#good thing he’s not actually at the table

[thebearer]

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.” 

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line. 

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket. 

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock. 

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval. 

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one. 

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name? 

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week. 

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself. 

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows. 

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.” 

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window. 

There you were. 

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high. 

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-” 

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it. 

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned. 

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.” 

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone. 

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it. 

From: Richie 

‘Look at table nine.’ 

Sugar huffed. 

To: Richie 

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’ 

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen? 

To: Richie 

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’ 

From: Richie 

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’ 

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end. 

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,” 

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.” 

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.” 

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced. 

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.  

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-” 

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.” 

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin. 

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge. 

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his. 

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee. 

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection. 

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.” 

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight. 

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out. 

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing. 

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face. 

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded. 

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.” 

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head. 

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.” 

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-” 

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.” 

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” 

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.” 

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-” 

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered. 

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window. 

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.” 

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger. 

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time. 

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.” 

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?” 

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.” 

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl. 

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called. 

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered. 

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.” 

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?” 

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.” 

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?” 

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

[loveinhawkins]

When Steve gets to his last year at Hawkins High, it feels like some kind of veil has been lifted right in front him. Or maybe it’s more that the veil’s actually been slowly lifting for years, and he’s noticing it all the more because it’s no longer there.

Either way, when he receives his yearbook, it doesn’t seem like the huge deal that his younger self would’ve made it out to be; he flicks through the pictures half-heartedly, doesn’t even care when the candid ones taken at sporting events catch him in unflattering poses, lip jutting out in concentration.

If he tried to voice his disinterest, Henderson would probably spout off some precocious shit about societal expectations, and Steve would pretend to nod sagely before stealing whatever dorky hat he happened to be wearing—it’s not like he could let the little shit suspect that he occasionally had a point, Steve would never hear the end of it.

The yearbook signings are predictably inescapable: people passing their books back and forth in class or in the cafeteria—and that one’s a risky move, with the threat of drinks spilling on the pages, whether accidental or malicious.

Steve thinks the fever’s dwindled out until he spends a free period in the school library. The seniors typically all bunch together in one of the far corners, the spots with the comfiest seats—loners included, like the perks of age for once outweigh the usual ridicule.

But that silent truce is not exactly being upheld, Steve notes—Eddie Munson is sitting alone at a nearby table.

It becomes painfully obvious when the signing starts up again. There’s a cluster of girls on the yearbook committee who initiate it, and soon every senior in reach is either passing over their own book or signing one.

Almost every senior.

It’s not like Eddie’s the only person ever to be held back. He’s not even the only one to be held back for next year, either: John Nelson off the swim team is in the same position, and he’s still been asked to sign.

But Steve knows that’s not what the source of exclusion is, not really.

He’s gotten good at spotting silent cruelty—good at avoiding it too, before his popularity gave him a temporary shield.

It’s all just bullshit, he thinks. It’s been a recurring thought lately.

He brings out his own yearbook because he knows it’s expected. When it’s finally passed back round to him, he ends up right near the seat opposite Eddie’s, just by chance.

But actually sitting there is his own choice.

He can tell that Eddie has spotted him even though he’s not looked up from whatever homework he’s doing; there’s a silent tension in the way he’s holding his pen.

Steve mulls it over before he asks the question. It could blow up in his face, but what did that matter, really? In the grand scheme of things, it would hardly count as a major embarrassment; it’s not like it’d be any more mortifying than telling his dad that he didn’t get into any colleges whatsoever.

So he pushes his yearbook across the table, because what the hell.

“Wanna sign?”

Eddie glances up. There’s a guarded look in his eyes, and Steve can almost hear him mentally replaying the question.

“Pardon?” Eddie says with pointed emphasis, like he’s daring Steve, let it drop and we’ll say no more about it, Harrington.

Steve doesn’t take it back. He shrugs and flicks open the yearbook, finds a blank spot and taps it once with his finger, a silent offer.

Eddie stares like Steve’s a riddle, like he’s wondering just who the show’s for—but the other students have turned away, have gone back to their seats, yearbooks temporarily forgotten.

Eddie’s hold on his pen relaxes, ever so slightly.

“You sure, Harrington?” he says. There’s still a wary edge to his voice, but there’s an undercurrent of something else, too, like he’s secretly amused despite himself. “Haven’t you heard what folks say? I could curse you.”

Steve scoffs. “That all you’ve got? I’ve dealt with way worse, man,” he says mildly.

A corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches into a surprised smile. Then it’s gone almost like it had never been in the first place, his gaze turning thoughtful rather than defensive.

And obviously this isn’t Eddie’s first rodeo at the whole senior year thing. Steve wonders if there’s a veil that’s been lifted for him too, wonders if he can see straight through it right now.

The bell rings.

Eddie stands up, gathering his stuff.

Steve thinks that’s the end of it: something that’s neither a success or a failure.

But then, lightning fast, Eddie darts across the table and scribbles something on the open page. Slams the yearbook shut and pushes it back over, and it feels like a challenge, like some of his caginess is back—like he’s just daring Steve to reveal that it had been a joke all along—

“Bet you’re counting down the days till you can hold your own copy, huh?” Steve says dryly, as he stuffs the book into his bag.

It’s a risk; he knows Eddie could easily take it as pure ridicule, could misinterpret it as Steve throwing the failed school years back in his face.

Eddie just shakes his head, but he could be laughing—the moment’s gone too quickly for Steve to know for sure.

“Nah, Harrington,” Eddie says easily, thrown over his shoulder as he leaves, “those things aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

Steve doesn’t check the yearbook until he’s home. He eventually finds Eddie’s signature, simple black ink right in the upper corner of one page.

Good luck, Steve. —Eddie

Some of the letters are bunched a little too close together, drifting upwards on the blank page, as if they usually need lined paper to guide them—left-handed, Steve thinks vaguely.

Within a sea of scrawled nicknames and loudly enthusiastic messages, Steve finds that he kind of likes how mundane Eddie’s truly is. Likes the sign off with minimal fuss. Just “Eddie.” Likes how he was just “Steve”, too.

And yeah, if anyone needed to be told good luck, Steve thinks, with the kind of amusement that only comes from distance—pictures his past self, freaking out about monsters come to life.

He slots the yearbook into his bookcase. By summer he might forget about it all together, left to gather dust as he works for 3 bucks an hour, but for now he marks its significance: something real, hidden alongside the bullshit.

[sjyluv]

in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you

genres! fluff?, angst, celebrity x celebrity, ex-lovers

word count! 1380

warnings! mention of breakup, heartbreak

synopsis! in another life, you and park sunghoon are lovers, just not in this one

mimi’s note! this fic was inspired by a quote from the movie ‘everything everywhere all at once’ also I'm not very good at writing angst because I hate it but I did my best

“Congrats, big shot,” a familiar voice says from behind you, and you can hear the teasing smile in his tone, “actress of the year award, you're in the big leagues now.”

You turn around to face Park Sunghoon, a renowned figure skater and your ex-boyfriend. You haven't seen each other in almost a year but the sight of him still has the same effect on you it did all those years ago.

He's hauntingly beautiful and you're a house of horrors.

You offer a polite smile, but it's bittersweet as if you were greeting death itself.

“Congratulations to you too, you're becoming a bit of an A-list yourself since you won the Olympics.” you quip, and you both know what kind of game you're going to play tonight.

It’s the same one you always play, the one where he pretends you didn’t break his heart and you pretend everything is fine.

Sunghoon smiles at you too, like you're everything he's ever had and everything he's ever lost.

“Maybe we should exchange autographs like middle schoolers trade Pokémon cards,” he says, and you both chuckle.

“Hmm, I have a feeling mines will be more valuable.”

He playfully puts a hand over his heart. “That’s hurtful, y/n, but I can’t deny that it’s also true.”

The gala was still roaring with life when you stepped out for some fresh air, you sat on concrete stairs, not caring if you got your 20,000-dollar dress dirty. You couldn't care about a lot of things lately.

You and Sunghoon had long parted ways, the conversation only lasted about five minutes before you were seated at your respective tables, you didn't see him again after that.

You’ve gotten everything you ever dreamed of at this point in your career, and you accomplished all your goals, in the beginning, it all seemed so impossible, but now that you're here and you've done it, you’re not so sure what's left anymore.

The sound of the door opening catches your attention, a tall, pale figure steps out, dressed in a purely black suit, and you recognize him instantly.

“Following me?” you prop your chin in your palm as your elbow rests on your knee, carrying the weight of your head as you tilt it playfully.

He’s not startled by the suddenness of your voice, which tells you, yes, he was looking for you.

He smiled. “Maybe.”

He sat next to you on the stairs, not caring if his 5,000-dollar suit got dirty, though it wasn't actually because he didn't care about the suit, but because he just wanted to be close to you.

You're both silent for a while, simply appreciating being in each other's presence after so long.

Or maybe it's because you don't know what to say and he has too much to say, so you settle for the piercing silence of unsaid words.

Sunghoon has been silent his whole life, but he promised himself tonight he wouldn't be.

“Was it worth it?”

Ah. There it is.

You think as the corners of your lips curl upward, you knew this question was coming, you sensed it the moment you saw him again.

If he had asked you that a year ago you would’ve said yes, no hesitation, no second thoughts, just a straight-up yes, and you would have meant it too.

Suddenly the silk fabric of your dress starts to itch your skin, your diamond embroidered heels start to hurt your feet, and your pearl jewelry feels too heavy.

In only a single minute, Park Sunghoon has stripped you of your persona, called you out for the fraud you are, and seen the real you.

And he accepted you.

You lie to save your pride, it's a habit of yours that he knows all too well.

He doesn't think you're perfect, but you would never have to be for him to love you.

“Sometimes,” you say.

You don't bother lying, he’ll know.

You had always been a good liar until Sunghoon came into your life.

He gently nods in understanding at your response, “Do you ever think about it? About us?”

With a chuckle, you reply, “Of course I do.”

It's true that sometimes leaving him is worth the life you're living now, but there are fragments of times when you imagine what your life could've been with him.

In another life, you never left Sunghoon, you got married, bought a home together, adopted a dog, and had a child.

On the surface that sounds nice, but in another life, you are a housewife with broken dreams, you bought a home together but it wasn't the one you always dreamed of because you had to compromise with Sunghoon, you adopted a dog but you were never really an animal person, and you had a child but motherhood was never for you.

In another life, you are happy to be a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought your dream home together, you adopted a dog that you both love, you had a child and you are the most loving mother.

In another life, you are not a housewife, you and Sunghoon bought a home even better than your dream home, you adopted a dog but you're more of a cat person, and you never had a child but you always wanted to be a mother.

In another life, you and Sunghoon work from home, you bought a decent home together, and although it's not your dream one, it's good enough, you adopted a cat, and you never had a child but because that's the way you liked things.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are divorced, the home you bought together is just walls and a roof with painful memories, you don't adopt any pets, and you never had a child.

In another life, Sunghoon is a househusband, you don't care about having a dream home because any place is home with him, you adopted a dog and a cat, and you had a child who has everything they could ever want.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are teenagers again falling in love for the very first time, and you have no idea what the future holds for you.

In another life, you and Sunghoon are just a little bit younger than you are now, in the kitchen of your shared apartment, and you are trying to figure out how to do laundry so all your clothes don’t turn blue again and how to properly calculate your taxes so you don’t go to prison for tax fraud.

In another life, you and Sunghoon have grown old together, and you are experts at doing laundry and taxes.

In another life, you are the bottles of salt and pepper on the table of a random diner and things are entirely less complicated.

In another life, you never meet Park Sunghoon.

The possibilities are endless, and the truth is, you never know what will happen in your life, and that's scary, but you hope in another life you learn to accept the bad just as easily as you accept the good.

“What does it look like?” he asks.

“Laundry and taxes,” you shrug.

You both laugh at that.

“What about you?” you ask.

“Taxes and laundry,” he smiles.

You both laugh again.

The party inside is completely forgotten about as you and Sunghoon spend what feels like hours just sitting and talking, until the realization that it’s time to go home dawns on you.

Sunghoon gets up first, holding his hand out for you to take, and you do, but when he helps you to your feet he doesn't let go just yet, instead, he looks into your eyes and you feel his thumb caress your knuckles.

“It was nice to see you again, y/n.”

“It was good to see you again too, Sunghoon.”

He finally lets you go and you already miss his warmth.

He almost walks away but turns to face you one last time.

With a hint of a smile on his lips, he says, “You know, in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.”

And then Park Sunghoon walks out of your life forever, and you let him.

In another life, things didn't end that way.

© 2024 sjyluv, all rights reserved | do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

[canthelpit0]

Innocent

Pairing: NotInnocent!Matt x Reader

Wordcount: 2.7k +

Summary: Matt was always seen as the innocent triplet. But being quiet doesn’t always mean being innocent. And Matt certainly is not.

Warnings: Smut, fwb, use of y/n, language, semi public (school bathroom), oral m!Receiving, fingering, teasing, edging, pet names, degration & praise, short

(A/N: this was so fun to write lmao. hope you guys like this.)

You’d been teasing Matt all day.

You were friends with benefits, sorta. Well you only hooked up a few times before.

Matt was always the quiet triplet. He was always more shy and reserved, more introverted than his extroverted brothers.

But being an introvert didn’t necessarily mean he was innocent.

But most people confused it as such.

You were in history class. You had group tables of four.

You sat next to Matt, Nick and Chris in front of you guys.

You’d known the triplets ever since freshmen year, and you quickly became close to them.

The group table was all the way in the back.

And when you had gotten bored with history, you drowned out the teachers voice, opting to focus on something else.

You sneaked your hand on Matt’s thigh. He didn’t react at first. Since your love language is touch, he just assumed this was innocent touch.

He quickly realized it wasn’t tho, when your hand started to trail up to his crotch.

“Y/n” he scolds under his breath.

He was giving you a warning glare.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your words menacing to their core. Nick and Chris’ eyes trail to you two as they also wait to hear Matt’s answer like the noisy fucks they are.

Matt glances at his brothers then Back at the table. “Nothing.”

He says under his breath. He doesn’t see your victorious grin, but he knows it’s there.

Chris and Nick avert their eyes again. Not bothering to think much of it. After all, what bad thing could Matt, out of all people, be doing?

Your hand trails further up his leg, finally meeting his clothed crotch.

He lets out an irritated sigh.

You start to gently palm him through his jeans, your eyes staying locked on the teacher at the front.

nothing about the way you were sitting was suspicious. Nobody was bothering to pay you guys any mind.

You were facing the teacher, all the way at the back of the classroom, your table was positioned in a way where people couldn’t see a thing, and Nick and Chris were shielding you.

You feel Matt become harder under your hand. You hear the way his breathing gets shakier and he closes his eyes a few times trying to keep himself together.

From the way it feels you know he should be at least half-hard by now.

He huffs trying not to groan at the slight stimulation. He grabs your wrist making you stop your movements.

Matt wasn’t going to let you finish him off into his boxers. And especially not in front of his brothers, let alone a whole classroom of people.

Your eyes meet his again, questioning why he stopped you.

To you this was all just fun and games.

He squeezes your wrist warningly.

You were being a brat, and he’d be dammed if he didn’t do anything about it.

Even if Matt seemed innocent because of how introverted and quiet he was, that did not mean that he actually was.

You know from first hand experience that Matt has a good dick, and he knows how to use it.

That one time you were a brat to him, he had made you cock warm him for what felt like hours while he kept doing his homework. And then afterwards he railed you until you were a crying, overstimulated, mess.

You don’t stop though. You start to rub his thigh right under his crotch.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, but eventually finally takes his hand off of your wrist.

You were in school, what was the worst he could do, really?

Fuck you in a locker room or something?

★ ★ ★

After class was finally over, Matt excused you and him from his brothers.

While you two walked he kept you in front of him to hide his bulge.

You got all the way to the highest floor where barely anyone was. After all it was lunch break now and everyone was all the way downstairs in the cafeteria.

He guides you into the men’s bathroom after checking if it’s empty.

All bathrooms in school had multiple stalls in them. Except the ones on the highest floor. It was just two rooms, one for the girls and one for guys, with only one bathroom.

So you stepped in and Matt locked the door behind you.

He closed the toilet seat not even bothering to do anything else before he was unbuckling his belt.

“Knees.” He demands. He was standing in front of the wall. You walk over to him and kneel in front of him.

You look up at him through doe eyes.

You look so innocent like you’ve done nothing wrong. And all he wants to do was fuck that expression off of your face

He finally undoes his jeans and slides them down along with his boxers.

His hard dick springs up eagerly. No need for foreplay, after all you teased him enough already.

You glance down at his length before your eyes meet his again. You try not to look too amused and pleased at the sight but he knows you are.

“Go on y/n, solve the problem you created.”

He huffs still staring down at you, his expression stony.

He was getting pissed off the more he had to wait, he just wanted his dick sucked.

You chuckle. Your manicured hand wraps around his cock, but you don’t do anything yet. Just admiring your nails and the way your hand looks around him.

“Don’t my nails look good? I just got them yesterday.” You say trying to hold back a laugh at his irritated scoff.

He grabs your wrist getting your hand off of him.

“Hands on your knees.” He says dimly and you do as he says.

He gently slaps your face. Enough for it to sting, but not hurt. “Open your mouth.”

You do as he says. And before you realize it, he’s standing up straight again, sliding his dick into your mouth.

He starts to gently thrust into your mouth. You keep your hands on your knees. Every time he retracts you suck and swirl around his dick. Matt thrusts in you hollow out your cheeks just letting him face fuck you.

Matt puts your hair in a makeshift ponytail. He was gently pulling on your hair to hold you in place while he thrusted into your mouth.

Your hands go to his hips as he starts to become rougher. You try hard not to gag too much, tapping his thigh to tell him to stop.

He roughly pulls out of your mouth. You keep your mouth open, sucking in a harsh breath. You close your eyes for a second.

“Christ, chill out, we got the entire lunch break.” You scoff your breath still ragged. You close your mouth pursing your lips as your eyes finally meet his again.

“Oh we do pretty girl.” He huffs. His one hand stays tangled in your hair holding your head up. The back of his other hand going to gently rub over your jaw.

“But you just had to be a slut and tease me.” He huffs, the words coming out in a harsh whisper.

He holds his length with his other hand sliding his tip over your lips. You keep your mouth shut though, not budging.

That is until Matt huffs. He grabs your cheeks squeezing them together making your mouth open slightly.

He slips just the very tip of his length between your lips.

“Come on sweetheart, open up.” He demands and you finally comply.

He pulls on your hair again to keep you in place. Matt starts to thrust into your mouth again, feeling the way you lick around him.

Your muffled moans were sending pleasure through his body, and he was holding back from groaning at the sight.

You, his best friend. His brothers best friend. On your knees for him, your plump lips wrapped around his cock. Choking on it.

“So pretty” he says under his breath before starting to thrust again.

He keeps thrusting in and out of your mouth at a fast pace. Occasionally slipping out fully to let your breathe for a second before going right back.

You were deepthroating him, letting him fuck your throat. You try not to let tears well up in your eyes at the constant hit to the back of your throat.

You listen to him praise and degrade you. While also telling you to not cry, as to not ruin your ‘perfect make up’.

After a while his thrusts get more erratic and uncontrolled. Until you suddenly feel it hit the back of your throat again, this time he stops moving though, the spurts of his release shooting down your throat.

You choke on it slightly, breathing in harshly through your nose.

He soon pulls out with a pop, watching the way your lips look all plump and swollen.

You swallow, some of his release running down your chin.

Matt lets go of your hair, his hands going and grabbing your cheek. He swipes the cum from your chin, pushing his thumb between your lips.

You suck on his finger, swirling your tongue and licking his release off of it like you had done to his cock previously.

“Good girl” Matt whispers. He pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop.

You groan under your breath licking your teeth while you keep your mouth closed.

He leans over picking up some paper towels and cleaning himself up, before he pulls his boxers and pants back up. He buckles his belt, while you don’t bother moving.

“Get up.” He demands.

You do as he says standing up on shaky feet. Your legs felt sore from kneeling on the ground.

Matt grabs your arm pulling you to the mirror. You lean against the sink to steady yourself, your ass out for him.

You knew he wasn’t going to fuck you, he’d already pulled his pants back up, but you wanted something.

You whine lowly closing your eyes briefly.

He scoffs a laugh watching how needy you are. He leans over your back, his arms going around you to undo your jeans before he swiftly slides them down.

Your jeans pool at your feet, your pantie covered self on display for him.

You normally wouldn’t wear a thong, but with these tight flare jeans, your ass just looked better in a thong.

“Wearing thongs to school now?” He questions. Matts hand starts to kneed your ass gently, pulling your cheeks apart and watching the way they move back when he lets go.

“Fucking slut” he huffs under his breath.

He squeezes your ass harshly making you hiss at the pain of his hard grip.

His hand trails from your ass to trail over your thong, teasing your covered hole.

You moan under your breath.

To with Matt just puts his other hand over your mouth and pulls your head back slightly.

“Stay quiet y/n/n. You wouldn’t want anyone to hear.” He says leaning over your back and whispering in your ear menacingly.

You stare at him through the mirror, feeling a bit of drool run down your chin.

He grins, a Cheshire like grin. His eyes droopy and sharp.

Your eyes were half lidded, your hair slightly messed up. Your mascara slightly smudged. Your eyes looked lust filled, you felt so overwhelmed by him giving you just the slightest bit of pleasure.

“Pretty girl.” He mumbles leaving a short kiss on your neck. His hand stays firmly on your mouth, his other hand still teasing you.

Until he finally pushes your panties aside and harshly pushes his middle finger in.

You moan at the sudden movement. Your moan gets muffled by his hand, sounding more like a whine.

“Sh.”

He starts to thrust his finger in and out of your tight hole. You were practically aching around him, begging him for more.

“Be quiet baby.”

You let out a shaky sigh at the words trying to keep your whines at a minimum.

Before you notice it he’s slipped his ring finger in too. You don’t realize he had, until he starts to scissor his fingers apart to stretch you even more.

You let out a harsh whine at the way he finger fucks you like that.

Out of instinct you try to let your head fall forward, but since he still has his hand clasped over your mouth that doesn’t work.

You whimper into his hand your eyes closing tightly.

“Keep. Your. Eyes. On. Me.” He emphasizes every word, thrusting his fingers in harshly after every word.

You groan against his hand trying to mumble an agreement. Until Matt makes you shut up. Once again reminding you that you’re in the school bathroom. Your eyes roll back in your head as you try to keep your focus on Matt.

“Shut.”

“Mhm.” You mumble into his hand. your eyes stay on his pale blue ones. He licks his lips and you watch him through the mirror.

You feel the knot in your stomach get even tighter threatening to snap at any time.

You breathe out shakily.

And it seems Matt notices too by the way you clench around his digits.

Suddenly he pulls his fingers out, and takes his hand from your mouth. He takes a full step back, biting back a smirk.

You borderline collapse against the sink, relying on your arms to halfheartedly hold you up. Your lower stomach pressed into the sink.

You breathe harshly. Your eyes closed, feeling yourself ache at the sudden loss of his finger in your cunt.

“Matt.” You groan in annoyance finally picking your head up to look at him through the mirror.

He actually snickers at the sight.

“Clean up.” He shrugs, leaning back and crossing his arms.

You lick your lips. You want to snap at him, but you actually knew he would do this. After all, you had teased him before knowing, he couldn’t do anything about it.

You take in a harsh breath your eyes meeting your own through the mirror. You lean back, standing up more straight feeling your legs shake slightly.

You huff at the sight. Your mascara only slightly smudged since you’re wearing a waterproof one.

Your lips are plump and swollen, a bit of drool running down your chin.

Your eyes are heavy and glassy. You just felt so sexually frustrated.

You lick your semi dry lips and then look back at Matt through the mirror.

“Go on y/n. Either you get yourself off or you clean up.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

Realistically you know that if you were to get yourself off, that Matt would get hard again by just watching you.

But you also knew that you didn’t have enough time to have a whole session right now.

You keep your eyes locked on Matt while you pull your thong back into place and pick up your jeans.

You watch as he can’t hold back his smile anymore, breaking out in a huge grin, closing his eyes briefly and shaking his head slightly in amusement.

He knew you were not satisfied. But he also knew he could’ve finished you off.

You pout dramatically, while you button your jeans again and pull up the zipper.

He chuckles lowly coming up behind you. His arm wraps around your waist. You watch through the mirror as he leans into you kissing your neck and holding you close to himself.

“Sorry, sweet girl.” He says sounding not so sorry.

“I’ll fuck you later. Now wipe that frown off of your face.” He chuckles. And his low laugh makes you smile slightly.

★ ★ ★

You two make it to the cafeteria for the last few minutes of lunch.

When Nick asks where you guys have been, Matt lies fast, saying that you two were in the library.

And everyone believes it.

It wasn’t that Matt was extraordinarily good at lying. He just pretends that he actually had. He wasn’t sweating or nervous or anything. He simply said it like it’s a fact.

And considering most people think that being innocent and introverted are the same thing, nobody questioned it.

Because Matt couldn’t have just gotten sucked off by his girl best friend in the school bathrooms.

After all he is way too innocent for that.

So nobody even bothers to question his reasoning.

Yet you would know better. You know how Matt is far away from innocent though.

You know first hand.

Masterlist

A/N: tbh i feel like most people always mistake being introverted as being innocent, so that's where the idea for this came from. Also, I’m so sorry if I couldn’t tag you I tried 😭

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss

[retroellie]

Loud

Summary: After being dragged to a small town for a case, spencer found himself littering the town with his moans because he couldn't keep quiet.

A/N: I actually hate this, but i wanted to post something. Work has been killing me (literally) Anyways, miss yall <3

Warnings: NSFW, riding, dirty talk, praise, normal CM stuff

Word count: 3.9K

Spencer Reid was vocal in anything he did whether it be profiling, chess, books, statistics... you name it and he can talk your ear off about it. So this didn't come as a surprise to you when he was extremely vocal and loud in bed. He would whimper and whine until his noises were bouncing off the walls, consuming every single quiet corner. He couldn't help it, it was so hard to focus on anything when his cock was deep inside of you. It did not help that you tried your hardest to get these noises out of him, it fed the huge ego that you had developed since having sex with him.

Spencer had been shamed his entire life for how talkative and loud he was, so he assumed his loud whimpers weren't an exception. He tried so desperately to keep quiet, he would bite his lips till they bled, shove his face into your skin until it turned red, he would strain himself so hard so no noise could sneak past his lips. You hated the fact, that Spencer tried so hard to keep his noises in. You wanted him to enjoy himself, you wanted him to be comfortable with everything you were doing with and to him. You didn't want him to feel like he had to hide, ever.

To be completely honest, you had grown to enjoy his high-pitched whimpers filling the room. It was your favorite song, your favorite melody to play as you rode him into the sun. You would constantly reassure him that you loved those noises, you would even sometimes punish him if he tried to hide them. One time you even got so frustrated with his shyness that you edged him for 2 hours, teasing him with your pussy until all he could do was babble... suddenly a 187 IQ went straight down to 60.

As much as you loved his loud moans and would usually encourage them! This was neither the place nor time to be letting them flow out of his mouth freely...

A case had dragged the team all the way to a small town in Alaska, a population of less than 300 people. It was a quiet town, made on top of hunting and farming. There was only one motel, the townspeople were more than happy for you and the team stayed in it. They were actually more eager to get you checked into the motel, they had all been so tired of this person killing their loved ones.

It was a small motel, with only 4 rooms and 2 shared bathrooms between the team. You couldn't complain though, it was beautiful and quiet... quiet, something Spencer wasn't being at the moment. Something along the long trip here had gotten you excited, basically bursting at the seams as you were immediately on top of Spencer as soon as you stepped foot into the room.

Both of your clothes had been scattered around the small room floor, things knocked over from tables, the bed already looked slept in as you rode Spencer roughly. There was already so much noise that echoed through the room, between Spencer's moans, the sound of slapping skin and the headboard being rocked into the wall. You prayed that the others didn't hear, but it was a small and old motel... The walls were thin. You were going at an animalistic pace, trying to get both of you guys off in a quick round so you wouldn't disturb the rest of the motel for long and hoping it was quick enough to be able to be written off as "old cabin" sounds. You knew Spencer wouldn't last too much longer, due to his high pitched whimpering and beet red face. He started off good, his moans stayed below a whisper but his cock started grazing the spongy part deep inside you... he couldn't hold back.

"Shhh..." You shushed, putting a hand over his mouth as his eyes fluttered closed. "gotta be quiet honey... Morgan and Garcia are quite literally 5 inches away from us."

Spencer moaned into your hand, digging his nails into your thighs. He couldn't make out most of your words, his hearing going in and out as you spoke to him. He threw his head back, your hand falling from his mouth as he obeyed you and quieted his moans.

"72 inches...." Spencer huffed out, squeezing his eyes shut as his cock twitched inside of you. He was so extremely close to the edge that he could taste it.

"What?" You asked. Your words barely above a whisper as your confusion took over your mind.

Spencer let out a few more moans, gripping tightly onto your thighs they started turning red and will probably leave a bruise in the morning. Your confusion led you to slow your movements, causing a whimper from spencer to rise from his chest. He sounded whiney, almost pathetic as he pouted that your movements had slowed. Spencer squirmed underneath you, taking in a breath as he found the words to explain himself.

"Garcia and m-morgan are actually 72 inches from us..." He stuttered, moving his hips up to meet you as your confusion still filled your head.

You didn't really even want to know how he figured that out, especially since the only time you guys had been in this room is now... and Spencer didn't have enough time to scope the room before you were on him. Spencer's mind worked in mysterious ways, it was the main reason why you were riding him now. His mind was amazing to you, his knowledge of literally anything was so impressive that it felt so amazing that only you could make him a dumb, moaning mess. Spencer looked up at you as you furrowed your brows, a face that he saw often because everyone was confused about why he knew anything he knew.

"I took the square footage of the building, divided it into 4 rooms, and then..." Spencer couldn't finish because, with a swift move of your hand, you took your underwear that had been hanging off one of your ankles and showed it in his mouth to silence him.

He looked up at you with big eyes, his surprise taking over his face as you leaned down to be face to face with him. He bit down on your panties as you drove your pussy down on him, a couple of hard thrust almost pushing him over the edge.

"It doesn't matter..." You hissed, watching his eyes snap shut as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. "Either way, they can hear you... the entire cabin can hear you. Do you really want our coworker to know how much of a whiny brat you actually are?"

Spencer whimpered softly, the taste of your juices making his back arch into you and his hips thrust widely. Your dominance leaked from every pore of your body, only causing Spencer to moan louder. You were getting frustrated with him, his moans bouncing off the walls as the sound of your hips hitting his was still echoing through the cabin. However, there was a slight bit of excitement that coursed through your body. Everyone hearing how easily you can break down the boy wonder, everyone knowing that you were the only one who can reduce a 187 iq down to 0 with just one swift move of your hips.

"can't... gonna..." He tried to get his words out through your underwear that was stuffed into his mouth. He was shaking now, frustrated with his inability to speak but also your slowed movements. You chuckled softly, brushing his hair from his face before pecking his cheek.

"Gonna what?" You asked, mocking his inability to form a single sentence. "Gonna cum huh? Gonna cum in me like a good boy?"

Spencer whined softly, your praise ripping his self-control away from him. He could no longer control his loud moans or his hips snapping back into yours. You leaned back from him, sitting straight as you placed your hands on his chest. You prepared yourself to go faster, preparing yourself to push you both off that edge. You lifted yourself and then snapped your hips back down over and over again, watching as Spencer bit harder down on your underwear with each thrust. Your nails dug into his chest, your own moans escaping your mouth as you sloppily thrust into him. It took only seconds for you both to be cumming, your liquids soaking the bed beneath you.

You shoved your face into the sheets next to Spencer, moaning loudly into them as you were too embarrassed for your own moans to be heard. Your body spasmed out, not able to stop your hips from fucking yourself through your orgasm. Spencer had been doing no better than you had. He had left his body and went to cloud nine, your underwear now soaked with his drool as his body tensed. His nails were still dug so deeply into your hips, small moon-shaped crescents were becoming present now. It was a fast but lovely type of pleasure, it was there and then it wasn't.

Your body shook, hands placed into Spencer's hair as you left sloppy kisses on his neck appraisingly. Spencer was coming back into his body as you did so, each kiss sent him further down within himself until he was there and he was present with you.

"Did so good for my love..." You spoke, continuing your kisses on his neck. Spencer and neck kisses were like a puppy to a treat, his favorite way of getting praised. "Always so good for me. How'd I get so lucky huh?"

Spencer couldn't help his blush, he loved the praise and it had caused his cock to twitch once more. You rubbed his cheek softly, leaving a small little love bite down his neck. He definitely was going to scold you for that decision in the morning but as of right now, you did not care. All you cared about was the fact that you were deeply fucked for spencer, you just fucked him in a small town, with a serial killer on the loose, while your coworkers were 72 exact inches away. How fucked can someone be for another person?

"Not lucky..." Spencer whispered out, his voice raspy. Your panties had been taken out of his mouth, laying by his head as he tried to catch his breath. "Just really nice boobs." He joked.

You chuckled softly, pecking his neck one last time before sitting up. You were still straddling him, feeling as his cock was starting to get hard again. The way your sweat-drenched chest looked while on top of him had his cock standing to attention, his exhaustion soon melting away and turning to excitement. You would have loved to go a couple more rounds, fucking spencer till he cried and than passing out in his arms was one of your favorite before-bed activities. However, this was not the time or place to go multiple rounds.

You looked around the room, looking for anything in your close proximity to clean you both up with. Spencer took this time to sit up, wrapping his arms around you to keep you in place as he started to work his own soft kisses down your neck. The feeling felt heavenly, his hardening cock beginning to brush against your clit as his mouth worked wonders on your soft spots. You could feel yourself slowly start to melt into his kisses, moaning softly when he nibbled at your collar bone.

Spencer was kind of messy and dumb when he was horny, he didn't have much common sense when it came to it. All he cared about was how good it felt, how the inside of your walls would clench around him until he felt he would go crazy if he didn't cum deep within you. So as of right now, his mind was not in the place yours was. He wasn't thinking about the serial killer on the loose or your team being only inches from you, all he was thinking was you and how he wanted to be inside you once more.

If you weren't in your "FBI profiler" mode then you would have caved in the moment he started kissing your neck, but you were and you knew one round was enough for right now. You didn't want to disturb the motel more than you already had, knowing that Morgan was definitely going to be teasing the both of you in the morning. You just wanted to save you both the embarrassment of it all, even if Spencer was the one making all the noise.

"I gotta take a shower." You said simply, reaching up to grab his face in your hands. He looked up at you, eyes glossed over with lust as he looked at you like you were a goddess. That look alone was going to really make this much more hard than it already was. You left softly little kisses along his face, the only thing you could do without losing complete control over what your vagina did.

"Can I come too?" He said innocently, his lip coming to rest between his teeth.

You wanted to say yes, so desperately wanted to let him come with you. But you knew better. You knew that every time you took a shower with spencer he some how had your face shoved against the cold wall as he fucked you roughly. Spencer didn't like the germs that came with sex, so he let loose when he fucked you in the shower. It was never an innocent "I'm going to help you get clean" shower, it was always a shower that still came out dirty. You sighed softly, brushing your hand through his hair as you knew the one single word that was going to come out of your mouth was going to break his little heart.

"No." You stated simply.

"What! why?" He pouted, looking like a literal child as he did so.

You smirked softly, hoping off his lap as you made your way to your closet. You were still naked, with only a flimsy button-up over your shoulders. Spencer thought you had been teasing him, watching your thighs glisten with his cum as it dripped out of you. He wanted more, he craved more and you were completely denying him of a need. Spencer knew in the morning he was going to regret this entire decision, he wasn't dumb. He knew he would cringe at the fact he was so loud, that Morgan would probably cook him for this one. But he didn't care, all he could focus on was his now very hard cock.

"Because..." You mocked him, bending down to grab your pajama pants that somehow made their way onto the floor when you threw your bags down. You weren't worried about where they would land, you were too worried about the fastest way to get Spencer's cock in you. "Showers always end with sex and since you can't keep quiet... you will not be joining me."

You took a washrag from the desk, assuming that the motel staff put them there for your stay, and wiped his cum off the insides of your thighs. Spencer pouted some more, letting out huffs and promises that he'll be quiet and blah blah blah. You didn't hear much of it though, trying to clean yourself up as best as you could before going over to Spencer and doing the same thing. He was still pouting when you wiped your own juices off his cock, making sure to get his lower stomach as you did so.

This was definitely a punishment, it was so much fun hearing spencer begging to fuck you and get all high-pitched when he didn't get his way. When he was all cleaned up, you quietly collected your things as he listed the reason for you to let him get in the shower with him, your favorite one being "You made a mess out of me! I need to get cleaned up too!". You knew his intention was not to get clean in that shower, you knew he'd somehow end up inside of you. You were stronger-willed than him however, you begged and he would cave almost instantly but it was not the same for you. You couldn't tell if you were good at not giving in or if Spencer was bad at begging.

"You will live my love." You smirked, collecting your things in a small shower bag before making your way to him. You bent down to peck his lips softly, taking his face in your hands as you did so. "One shower without me will not kill you."

Spencer tried to make the kiss deeper, trying to make it so you just couldn't say no to the hard passionate kiss he had created. You again were much stronger than that, pulling away with a smirk as he whimpered at the loss of your lips. Spencer sighed softly, he couldn't stand your self-control sometimes. You grabbed buttoned up the long button up shirt, making your way to the door.

"There's still an unsub on the loose, so it might kill me." He pouted out, watching you walk away. You couldn't help but laugh loudly at his words, shaking your head as you did so.

"Alright well, don't die I guess." You joked back, opening the door to your hotel room. Spencer ripped the sheets over him as he was still sitting on the bed, cock out and everything. "cause then you wouldn't ever get to fuck me ever again."

You fake pouted, watching as he rolled his eyes as you mocked him. You stepped outside the room, closing the door as you did so. You swear he was going to be the death of you, his sassiness and sex drive was going to one day make it impossible for you to even utter the words "no" to him. But for tonight, you were going to take a nice hot shower without your boyfriend's cock deep inside of you... although that did sound nice.

-

You made your way down the steps to the old motel, files in your hand as Spencer followed closely behind you. There was a new break in the case, a new suspect that the town's sheriff had put together with the help of your profile. This caused hotch to call your cell phone at 4 am, telling you that you needed to be at the police station in 20 minutes. You debated on getting up this morning, wanting nothing more than to sleep off the side effects of an overwhelming orgasm. Your thighs were sore and your legs were still slightly shaking. Spencer wasn't doing any better, for he had to go to bed with a hard cock.

He woke up extremely needy this morning, but he couldn't do anything about it due to the fact you both were rushed out of your hotel room to come and once again go over the details of the profile. You found yourself being extremely irritated with the day already, you should've just caved in and let spencer fuck you... maybe this mood you were in could have been avoided if you didn't avoid the orgasm. You debated on if you and spencer could get in a quickie in before you arrived at the station, but most of the drive there was spent going over case details and you actually did care about catching this fucker.

You both arrived a bit late, the team had already begun talking about the suspect and Morgan even went in to interview him. As soon as you two had stepped foot into the room, the team had stopped what they were doing and their eyes landed on you both. Even Hotch had begun looking and if Hotch looks then you know it's bad. Spencer was completely clueless about it, he was never much for picking up on social cues, but you knew. Spencer sat down with a smile, saying "good morning" before digging right into the new case file.

"Good morning indeed, pretty boy." Morgan teased, causing the rest to snicker.

'Oh god, it's already starting' you thought to yourself, hoping that you could at least get a moment of peace before they started throwing their jokes at the two of you. You rolled your eyes, sitting down at a chair next to Spencer as you sat your stuff down on the table. You were not prepared for today, even on 3 cups of coffee you could not handle this. Spencer squinted his eyes at the team, again not really picking up on their reason for laughing.

"Did y'all sleep well?" Morgan added, hoping at least Spencer would fall right into his trap... and he did.

"Yeah, we slept as good as you could in a 60-year-old bed," Spencer said back, his statement not even an overstatement. Those beds were around 60 years old and they sounded like it when you fucked in them.

You just kept your head down, not wanting the attention on you even though it was. Spencer was lucky that he was clueless, not understanding that you are quite literally the butt of the joke. Spencer's words caused a slight reaction in them all, they all knew you did a lot more than sleeping in that 60 year old bed... they all heard it. You could tell they all could, even Rossi who was the very last door in the hall could hear you.

"I know I didn't sleep too well..." Emily added in, looking over at Morgan as she smirked softly. "I kept hearing what sounded like a grunting goat?"

There it was, Spencer's confusion turned to embarrassment as she said those words. He suddenly sunk into his chair, feeling exposed as he now knew he was the butt of the joke.

"No, it was more of an owl who hasn't gone through puberty yet." Garcia joined in, causing everyone to laugh as you and Spencer both grew red.

Hotch was even laughing softly, his eyes peeling away from the file as he looked at you both through his eyebrows. You knew this was going to be a long trip... excruciatingly long and you knew this was only the beginning of the teasing and the jokes. Morgan had now started to make high pitched moaning sounds and Garcia would do it back to him, sounding completely ridiculous but honestly pretty close to what Spencer sounded like... you couldn't hide your laugh as they did them.

"Alright, alright..." You finally said, your face now on fire as you tried to redirect their focus on the case. "I'm sorry you guys are all not getting any... but we really have to focus on the case right now." You joked back, wanting the attention off of you now.

Spencer looked over at you, silently thanking you for attempting to get them to stop. They all continued to laugh, however, laughing even harder at your words. Your embarrassment slightly dissolved as you realized how stupid this entire thing was. You felt stupid for being embarrassed at how good you fuck your boyfriend, how he wasn't able to control his moans when he was with you. Your embarrassment turned to an ego as you looked at it like that.

"Y/N is right..." Hotch joined in, looking back down at his file. "But y/n, If you and Spencer keep me up until 2 am again... you're fired." 

[avocad1s]

Trial By Combat - 6

Requested By: No one. Original Work

CW: manipulation?

Summary: Arlecchino’s got a secret…

Note: You all asked and I will provide! Here’s part six <3 this chapter is a bit slow but I promise it’s leading up to something great!

Part One —> Part Five

-

Fontaine, for the most part, had finally begun to go back to normal. Although no trials have been held since the Creators trial, many shops have reopened their doors to the public once more. It’s as if Fontainians want to disregard the event entirely, treating it as a work of fiction like the Prophecy. However, this doesn’t stop The Steambird from posting every single update regarding the Creator, nor does it stop every copy from selling out.

Despite the lack of trials, it hasn’t prevented the Chief Justice from sending criminals to the Fortress of Meropide, and only hours from now, Paimon and Aether would be a part of the group sent there. The two were the only customers dining at Cafe Lutece this afternoon, the owner seemed almost eager to provide the gluttonous amount of food the duo had ordered.

“Oh Paimon is feeling a bunch of nerves right now and it’s just making her more hungry.” She whines while rubbing her stomach. “I’m just hoping that the food in the Fortress is actually tasty.”

Aether lets out a soft chuckle, “it’s a prison Paimon. I doubt that the food will be any good”

Paimon pouts crossing her arms. “Hopefully will be rightfully compensated for our due diligence. Oh! Maybe even something from the Creator themselves!”

The traveler gives her a look, “you shouldn’t think like that Paimon, not when they are currently missing right now.”

The travel guide immediately covers her lips, muttering out a small apology.

“Speaking of the Creator,” Paimon says, “do you really think Childe might know something? I mean, we’ve heard how he’s talked about them before.”

It was true, during their time in Liyue when they had met Childe, he had expressed how heavily he revered the Creator. Not just him, all of the harbingers they’ve met have mentioned the Creator in a positive light. Aether even recalls when the Wanderer told him that the only thing all of the harbingers could agree on was their ultimate respect for them.

“Based off our interactions with the Fatui before, they might have some respect for Their Grace. But we still have no idea why they want the Gnosis, maybe it’s connected to the Creator.”

Paimon nods in agreement. “You’re right. If the gnosis are what connect the Archons to Celestia, then maybe the Creator has something similar?”

“Hopefully if the Fatui got their hands on Their Grace, they haven’t left Fontaine yet. We should still be able to rescue them.” Aether adds.

“Paimon hopes so too! Oh I can only imagine the type of horrors they could be putting them through!”

“Are you talking about Their Grace?!”

A familiar girl with a pink bob holding a camera in her head pops out of a bush quickly approaching the table. It was Charlotte, and she had a large smile on her face.

“Do you two have any nuggets of information about Their Grace? Oh please share it with me, I’ll make it worth your while!”

Paimon and Aether share a look before looking back at the journalist.

“We don’t have any new information on The Creator.” Paimon explained, “we didn’t even know they had returned until Monsieur Neuvillette told us.”

Charlotte makes a look of surprise, “wait seriously? It was such big news! I’m sure everyone in Teyvat wrote the piece I had written.”

Charlotte places her camera on the table taking a seat across from them. “I’m just hoping for Their Grace to have a speedy recovery. I would love to interview them if they let me, it just seems like all of the big names in Fontaine never have the time for an interview. Monsieur Neuvillette and the Duke of Meropide have been on the top of my list for ages now!”

“Oh right, you’re a journalist Charlotte! ” Paimon exclaimed, “do you have an information about the Duke?”

Charlotte ponders for a moment, “not really, just the same regurgitated information I get from people who leave the Fortress. Why do you ask?”

“We actually are going to the Fortress later today.” Aether answers.

Charlotte’s eyes get as big as saucers as she’s jumping in her seat. “You two are going to the Fortress?! Will you two please get some information about the Duke for me?

Noticing the restrained looks on their face, Charlotte quickly adds, “I’ll pay for your meal! Yeah…! Let’s make it a deal, you get information on the Duke for me and this meal of yours is on me!”

Paimon grins, “it’s a deal!”

Charlotte shares Paimon’s enthusiasm as she pulls out a small bag of mora ready to pay for the meal. At that moment, the owner returns with multiple plates and bowls filled with various amounts of entrees and desserts wheeling it to the table.

“H—how much did you order…?”

———

Many journalist stood outside of the Palais Mermonia demanding answers from their Archon who had entered the building earlier that morning. Luckily, gardes stood outside preventing anyone from entering.

Inside of the chief justice’s office was him, the God of Justice, and the Champion Duelist whose hair was damp with sea water.

“I checked the surrounding area,” Clorinde says, “there is no traces of Their Grace anywhere. The only logical conclusion is that the Fatui must’ve done something with them.”

Neuvillette nods. “Thank you for looking Clorinde, your help is appreciated.”

Clorinde nods, “it’s no trouble. We all want Their Grace to be found safe and sound.”

Furina had a worried look on her face as she paces back and forth in the office. “W—what are we supposed to do now? We looked all over Fontaine and they aren’t anywhere.”

“Lady Furina.”

Furina stops pacing, turning her gaze over to Neuvillette who looked calm considering the situation. “I think it’s time to meet with the Kanve, wouldn’t you agree?”

“T—that Knave?” Furina stammers, “ha, why would we meet with her? Don’t we have more important things to worry about?”

Neuvillette clears his throat, “until we find Their Grace, we must operate like normal. If the others find out that we lost Their Grace—“

Furina lets out a breath putting on a confident stance, “yes! Right of course!” She interrupts, “I was thinking the same thing… I will prepare for the two of us to discuss relations with her as soon as possible.”

“Who said that I would be joining you?”

Focalors lets out a short gasp as she quickly approaches his desk, her gloved hands balling into fists. “Y—you expect me to attend the meeting alone! No! You must go with me!”

Neuvillette closes his eyes as he shake her head, “I must focus all my attention on the Creator, we must locate them before the rest of Fontaine and Teyvat begin asking questions. As the Archon, this is something you should be able to handle. Correct?”

Furina tenses slightly but lets out a sigh. “But… wouldn’t attending the meeting be the best thing for Their Grace?”

Neuvillette furrows his brows, “What do you mean?”

Furina’s confident flair was back just as quickly as it dissipated, “Attending the meeting will give us the chance to indirectly interrogate the harbingers before she even knows that we suspect her.”

Noticing the look on the chief justice’s face, Furina lets out a boastful laugh. “Naturally I, the God of Justice, would be the first one to think of this! Worry not Neuvillette, I believe that after this meeting, the truth shall be revealed!”

Clorinde mutters how she needed a towel and Neuvillette lets out a sigh.

“Very well... I will participate in the meeting.”

In between Fontaine’s Lumidouce Harbor and Chenyu Vale, a large ship was anchored the familiar insignia imprinted in the sail. There was a plethora of Fatui agents stationed on the ship that it was overwhelming, it would be impossible to infiltrate the ship without being spotted.

Many of the agents weren’t even aware why there was such an urgency to return to the homeland. Curious glances and whispers spread throughout the ship like wildfire, wondering what could the Knave possibly be doing in the lower deck that no one else was allowed to enter unless they brought news from Fontaine. All of them knew better than to question their harbinger, but she hadn’t been seen since the night before.

“Your Grace.”

Arlecchino’s soft voice cuts through your thoughts. Fontaine was in danger and you were the only one who could help, at least that’s what she believed. It was only a matter of time before the nation was completely wiped off the map, Lady Furina has done nothing but bury her head in the sand.

You glance at her face, despite her sharp features she still had a soft yet powerful air around her. Maybe that’s why the children from the House of the Hearth trust her so much.

“Are you hungry? I have chefs on board, they can prepare anything you desire.” Her hand rested on top of yours, her long nails rubbing against your knuckles in a comforting way.

You were famished. You knew she was capable of, but she was making you feel so welcomed. It felt as if you could trust her, tell her anything and she would understand.

You nod slowly and she smiles.

“I’ll be right back.”

She stands up from her spot next to you leaving the room. Her luscious black and white hair that was pulled into a low ponytail flowed behind her. Arlecchino returned quickly letting out a soft sigh.

“They are preparing a Snezhnayian specialty, the food is quite delicious. I hope it’s to your liking” She commented placing her hand right back on top of yours.

“We will be heading towards Snezhnaya at sunset.” She says. “Although leaving Fontaine wasn’t originally apart of my plan, but considering the circumstances, changes had to be made.”

You furrow your brows. “The circumstances?”

Arlecchino nods. “Your power…or rather, lack there of.”

“I have a colleague, I do not trust nor like him very much but I cannot deny his intelligence, I believe he may be able to figure out the answer… or even Her Majesty may know.”

So there was a colleague within the Fatui who had extreme intelligence that might be able to help you. Maybe he would even know why you were healing so quickly? Or does that tie into your “godly” abilities too?

“Is that why we are leaving so quickly? Because of my supposed amnesia?” You ask.

The Knave shakes her head, “not necessarily. It’s mainly for your safety, you don’t wish to stay in a nation that tried to kill you, right Your Grace?”

You were forced into a corner with that question. Wanting to stay in a nation that almost killed you was bad, but wanting to go to a nation that had the capability to kidnap you wasn’t any better. Yet you had to pick your poison, and in that moment you decided—

“Right.” You reply. “Leaving Fontaine is the smartest option.”

“I knew that you would see it my way,” she praises, “I only want what’s best for you and all of Teyvat.” She gives your hand a squeeze a small smile spreading on her red lips.

A small knock on the door interrupts the moment, Arlecchino looks at the door her gaze becoming icy. “You may enter.”

The door opens and a young lady whose face is obscured by a mask enters and she immediately kneels.

“Y—your Grace… Lady Harbinger.” Her voice was almost breathless, her gaze transfixed on you. “I have news from Fontaine.”

Arlecchino lets out a sigh crossing her legs. “News? What is it?”

“Focalors has agreed to have a political meeting with you. The chief justice Neuvillette will also be attending.”

The Knave doesn’t even try to hide the smirk that spreads on her face, “Very well then. Was there a time mentioned for this meeting?”

“In the next few hours Lady Harbinger. We’ve already got a boat ready to return back to Fontaine’s harbor.”

Arlecchino stands, her gaze becomes soft once more when she looks back at you. “Your Grace, I will return as soon as I can. If you have any needs anyone on the ship will be more than happy to serve you.”

She exchanges a few whispers with the agent before giving you one last smile leaving the bottom deck. The agent looks at you one last time before stuttering out.

“I—I’ll go get your meal immediately Your Grace!” She rushes out of the door leaving you alone once more.

The Fortress of Meropide was more grand than Aether had anticipated. Surrounded by Fontaine’s sea, there was no escape from this prison besides the path they embarked, which was at the rear of the Opera Epiclese.

After heaving their mugshots taken, Aether and Paimon are escorted onto a ship where they meet their tour guide, who is also just another prisoner within the Fortress. The entire tour he was standoffish and dry only giving the required amount of information. If the two asked for more information about credit coupons, secret rules, or about the Creator, he would say they’d have to pay for that.

The prisoner leads the two down the large hallway of the Fortress when multiple gardemeks came around the corner. The traveler immediately takes a stance ready for a fight when a voice eases his worries coming around the corner with the machinery.

“Welcome to the Fortress of Meropide,” the man greets. He had dark clothing and dark hair with a scar under his eye.

“Y—your Grace!” The tour guide quickly says, his standoffish nature immediately disappears. “Lovely weather we’re having!”

The man glances over at the tour guide, “Hm? Oh yes, I guess the weather is nice. If we could see it.”

The prisoner lets out an awkward laugh as the Duke looks back at Paimon and Aether. “I’m Wriothesley, but you can call me Your Grace.”

“You’re the Duke of Meropide?” Paimon asks in a shocked tone. Wriothesley nods.

“So, how was your tour?” He asks, “was everything up to standard?”

Aether glances as the tour guide for a moment before giving Wriothesley a firm nod. “Yep. No complaints here.”

“Wonderful.” Wriothesley smiles, “I think we should be able to reward you with more credit coupons then?”

“T—thank you Your Grace! Thank you!” The tour guide says. He then looks over at the traveler, “and thank you for such kind words! If you ever need anything! Anything at all! Please come find me!”

Once he rushes off, the Duke turns his attention back onto the newcomers.

“So, is it normal for you to greet all newbies in person like this?” Paimon asks.

Wriothesley lets out a soft laugh. “No it’s not. I just heard that you two were friends with Neuvillette so I figured I finish the tour myself.”

“Wait, how do you know that?” Aether questions.

“The Fortress might look like it’s cut off from the rest of the world but word still travels fast. Just like what happened to Their Eminence.”

Paimon glances at the traveler briefly. Wriothesley continues, “Many people in the Fortress were ready to leave just for a chance at seeing the Creator. But since they are still in the hospital recovering, I managed to keep them under control.”

“What else do you know about the Creator?” Aether asks.

“Nothing really.” He responds, “I haven’t had the time to leave the Fortress and go visit them myself. Unless you’re talking about the basic information, there’s books all around the Fortress that can tell you that.”

Wriothesley continues on with the tour, showing the where the so-called cafeteria was, the Pankration Ring, and where they would report to work everyday. He also mentions Sigewinne, the nurse who looks after anyone who gets hurt or sick.

Lastly, he shows them where they’ll be sleeping. As he explains the procedures for their room, Aether gazes falls onto someone walking nearby. An oddly familiar magician.

Lyney stops walking and looks back at him, but once Wriothesley notices, Lyney lets out a soft laugh doing a dramatic bow.

“Well hello there Your Grace! It’s lovely to see you out of your office!”

Wriothesley crosses his arms, “it’s good to see you too, but shouldn’t you be reporting to work?”

The magician gives him a cheeky smile as he stands back up, “of course! That’s where I was heading right now! But these two must be very important to get a personal tour from the Duke himself.”

Wriothesley says nothing in response but Lyney quickly excuses himself, his gaze falling onto Aether once more before walking out of sight.

“Come on,” Wriothesley says, “there’s one last stop I’d like to make.”

———

The three sit at one of the tables in the cafeteria, the chef bringing over three welfare meals. They remove the lids revealing the delectable meals inside causing Paimons mouth to water.

“Oh is this what the food is like in the Fortress?” She rubes her hands together, “Paimon could get used to this!”

“Actually, I managed to pull a few strings to get this meal, after today, you might not get another meal like this.”

The fairy didn’t seem to be paying attention as she keeps shoving more food into her mouth. The traveler rolls his eyes at his companion, looking back at the Duke.

“So you said there was books in the Fortress about the Creator?” Aether asks, his fork pushing around his meal mindlessly.

Wriothesley nods. “There are groups within the Fortress to make people feel more welcome or comfortable. There’s quite a few revolved around Their Eminence. Prayer groups, wanting a stronger relationship, or just normal worship in general, they’re actually pretty popular.”

Paimon swallows the food in her mouth, “How do you feel about them?”

Wriothesley ponders for a second, “I don’t know anyone who has a negative view on Their Eminence, including myself. I would be honored to go up to the surface soon and share a cup of tea with them.”

Aether didn’t say anything in response, but he had a feeling that Wriothesley knew more about the Creator than he let on. He did say word travels fast from the surface, is it possible he already knows the Creator is missing?

“Anyways,” Wriothesley says, “I have other things to attend to, enjoy your time in the Fortress and try not to cause any trouble.”

The Duke gives one last farewell, leaving the table without another word. Aether and Paimon continue eating their welfare meals preparing themselves to adjust to their new situation and figure what exactly Childe may know about the Creator.

———

“You were right.”

In a dark corner of the Fortress, the twins from the House of the Hearth spoke in quiet whispers.

“Paimon and the Traveler, I just saw them.” Lyney explained.

Lynette’s ear lay flat on her head, her tail swaying slightly. “Monsieur Neuvillette must’ve told them and they’re here to investigate.”

“We have to do what Father told us to do.“ Lyney adds, “although playing ignorant to figure what they know won’t hurt either.”

Lynette lets out a sigh. “…and what about Tartaglia?”

Lyney shrugs, “what about him? He’s not here. We have to focus on the Creator. Without Their Grace, the Fatui won’t be able to—“

“I know.” Lynette interrupts. “Let’s just focus on the traveler for now.

“I must say, the timing of this meeting seems almost convient…” Arlecchino narrows her gaze as she brings her teacup up to her lips.

“I’ll just cut straight to the chase. I’m here about my colleague, Childe and of course, Their Grace.”

The table inside of Neuvillette’s office was covered in sweets from Snezhnaya, something the Kanve brought to ease the tensions within the meeting. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be working.

“Childe was declared innocent by you, the Iudex, yet was still given a guilty verdict by the Oratrice…” Arlecchino explains, “and only days after that, you declare that Their Grace is an imposter and almost kill them.”

Furina shifts uncomfortably in her seat, “Y-yes… we are aware of our… transgressions. The Creator is being well looked after and is healing quite quickly.”

Arlecchino perks up, “Oh? They are? So is it possible for me to see them for myself?”

“That won’t be possible at the moment, I apologize.” Neuvillette quickly adds in.

Arlecchino brings a forkful of cake up to her mouth as she lets out a scoff. “An outright refusal? I must say, I am surprised…”

Neuvillette crosses his arms, “this meeting wasn’t called to talk about Their Grace, but rather Mr. Tartaglia, correct?”

“That is correct. Then am I able to enter the Fortress to check on the wellbeing of my colleague?”

“That also won’t be possible.”

Arlecchino sighs, “so I cannot see Their Grace and I cannot see Childe. What exactly will this meeting accomplish?”

“We already have a course of action for Their Grace.” Focalors adds, “but we cannot share it with you or any other nations for now. This meeting was just a… common courtesy”

“And as for Mr. Tartaglia I am investigating matter.” The chief justice adds.

“A common courtesy?” The Knave questions, “everyone in Teyvat is wondering just what exactly will Fontaine do after committing the biggest sin known to man… and all you can say is that it’s confidential? Not to mention the prophecy you refuse to address.”

Furina shoves another bite of cake into her mouth, scooting her chair closer to Neuvillette.

“As long as Their Grace is in our nation, they are under our jurisdiction.” Neuvillette explains.

Arlecchino clicks her tongue. “A disappointing outcome indeed… but I cannot say I am shocked.”

Arlecchino finished her tea, “the Fatui is willing to extend our help if you need it. You all seem to have a lot on your plate at the moment. Maybe it’s best to pass some of the responsibility onto someone else?”

“That won’t be necessary.” Neuvillette states.

The Knave stands from her seat, brushing her bangs out of the way, revealing her red X eyes. “I think it’s safe to say this meeting is concluded, I have to return back to Snezhnaya immediately.”

Furina raises a brow, “returing so soon? W—why such a rush to leave?”

It falls silent in the room for a few seconds.

“Her Majesty cares very dearly about the Creator, I am expected to report any and all news directly to her.” Arlecchino explains, her back facing the two.

“Snezhnaya as a whole cares deeply about Their Grace, and once they heal completely we will welcome them with open arms… not a trial.”

Focalors looks down at her lap as Arlecchino leaves the office returning to her ship anchored near the border of Fontaine and Liyue. A sinister smile spread on her lips while Neuvillette and Furina sit in the office in silence, a sour taste lingering in their mouth even with the baked goods in front of them.

-

© avocad1s 2024

Note: Good luck to all my Arlecchino wanters! I got her and her sig weapon so I give all my luck to you <3

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I know it’s been a while so if you want to be removed let me know!!

[lovifie]

For my dear @lyralein (@support un-naughty my girl, you coward!!) and her mastermind of a mind, that came with the (correct) thought that Mr. Alex Keller would be a big shot at French porn.

And et voilà! ✨The porn✨ (and when I say porn, I meant it. There is no plot.)

Masterlist

Working for the CIA has granted Alex the opportunity to visit a multitude of countries, to meet unbelievable people and to push his limits on uncountable occasions.

In a couple too many times he has been at the verge of death, buildings collapsing, missiles flying a tad too close for his liking, friends turned enemies in the blink of an eye… But after all, that's what he signed up for.

Plus, sometimes, it also had some advantages.

Like meeting you.

And hearing your voice so sweetly call for him. “Monsieur, Keller!”

He whips his head around towards the sound of your voice like a dog well trained, turning to look at you standing on the porch of the little palace you lived in.

He drinks you in, standing barefoot on the first step of the short stair, pretty white summer dress accentuating every curve of your body and moving along the jiggle of your body as you effusively waved your hand at him.

He takes advantage of the distance, enough for you to not be able to tell the ungentlemanly places he rests his eyes at. The top of the dress, pulled to the center in a bow and pushing your boobs together calling him in like a siren's song.

He doesn't peel his eyes away from you, unable to do so; walking up to where you stand smiling like an angel upon him.

You shouldn't be calling him. The daughter of the owner of the wine yard shouldn't be talking to the lowest class of the employees. Alex's body is covered on a thin layer of sweat from working outside under the sun, hands grimey with dirt and clothes less than appropriate to be talking to you.

Still, when Alex slightly kicks the stairs to remove the loose dirt from his boots to not bring it inside, you are quick to jump at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him under the shade.

“You shouldn't be working at this time! It's too hot!” You reprimand him, the french accent obvious on your tone making him smile.

“Désolé, mademoiselle…” He attempts to excuse himself, cutting himself short when he sees the offended expression on your face at his french.

“Where did you say you are from again, monsieur Keller?” You ask, trying to switch the language to English again.

Alex looks at you, trying to remember what his last lie was so he can match it. “Quebec.”

You nod, raising your eyebrows at the doubt he is actually from Quebec but choosing to indulge him on his lie. You point to the washbowl on the table, a kind smile still on your face as you order him. “Wash your hands and face, I'll get us something to drink.”

And with that you disappear into the house, letting him the full view of your behind as you walk away. He turns again towards the bowl, using the fresh water to wash off the dirt from his face and hands, cleaning under his nails to make sure not a crumb of dirt has the chance to pollute you.

The door creaks when you open it again, a small tray on your hand that you quickly set on the table beside him. An unnecessary intricate jar full of iced lemon water with two just-as-intricate glasses beside it. But the first thing you grab is the small towel with your family initials embroidered in it.

He picks it up, patting his face and hands dry and checking he did a good job at cleaning himself before handing it back. You drop it on the table, slightly bending forward to pour the water on the glasses, and Alex's eyes are glued to the curve of your ass.

The heat of the summer hits you too, no matter how much of a local you are and he can tell by your clothing choices. The dress you are wearing is so dainty the beauty marks of your skin are visible through the fabric, as well as your lack of underwear.

It causes Alex to swallow a groan at his reaction over such a small detail when he feels his dick stir on his pants at the thought of pulling your dress up. His hand moves on its own, creeping closer and closer towards the flimsy material keeping the touch of your skin from him.

You turn around, filled glass in hand, jumping when you feel his hand rest on the curve of your hip but still, you look at him with the warmest smile on your face. You look down to where his hand is placed, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“So pretty…” He mumbles, grabbing the glass on your hand without moving his other hand.

“The dress?” You ask, warmth rising to your cheeks at his touch while you try not to break the contact with his blue eyes.

Alex furrowed his eyebrows for a second confused before softening his expression. “...yeah, pretty dress.”

He is the one to break eye contact, dragging his eyes over your body, down to the hem of your dress. He bends forwards, glass still on his hand as the other moves to rest right where the dress ends.

Teasingly, he walks his middle and pointer fingers up your thigh, flicking the skirt up with each step and exposing more bare skin of the leg, while you watch on with bated breath.

He looks at your face again, so he doesn't miss your expression when he finally lets the palm of his hand rest on the softness of your thigh; dangerously close to your core.

“Monsieur Ke- Monsieur Keller!” You call him, trying to sound scandalized when he starts to close his hand, the fat of your inner thigh being squeezed.

But no matter how appalled you try to look, leaning back against the table; Alex notices how you slightly pull your thighs together, pushing his hand towards the middle in the process.

He turns his wrist in one swift motion, with the palm of his hand resting on your cunt. Making you jump to wrap your hand around his wrist, keeping his hand between your thighs as you squeeze them together.

His index finger moves between your folds making you whine as you close your eyes, your hold on his wrist losing strength. It doesn't take long for him to feel wetness dribble over his digit. The feeling making you unclench your legs, allowing him more space between them.

The arousal slowly dripping from your core allows him to slide more easily his finger along your folds, making it easy for him to probe at your entrance, making you close your eyes as little moans and whimpers start to fall from your lips.

Such delicious sounds making him thirsty, but not for the glass of water on his hand. He tries to set it down on the table, but unable to peel his eyes from your pleasured expression he knocks it down making the water run over the surface of the table.

It snaps you out of it, finally pushing his hand away and you stand, turning around to pick up the glass. “I- I better clean it up.” You hurriedly say as you place the glass back on the tray as well as everything else on the table.

He tries to call your name when you turn, but his words die on the back of his throat when he sees the wet fabric of your dress stuck to your plush ass. And it is enough to have him walk behind you, following you inside the house and into the kitchen just a couple of steps behind you.

“You were right, I shouldn't have been working…” He says, making you turn once more with a surprised expression on your face. “I think I might be overheating, mademoiselle...”

You look up to him as he walks closer to you, unable to say anything, intoxicating on his proximity. And when his hands finally wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you against his hard chest and his lips crash against your, the only thing you can do is kiss him back.

He moves his hands up, cupping your face as he hums at the satisfaction of finally feeling your lips against his. Then takes one more step forwards, keeping you trapped between the countertop and his body.

You can feel his groin pressed against your abdomen, feeling it grow and harden with each swim of his hips against your body. The need to feel his skin under your touch making you pull his shirt out of his trouser so you can bury your hand under, your nails dragging over the firm muscle of his waist.

His lips pull apart from yours to kiss his way down your neck, sucking your taste in and letting his tongue roam flat against your skin, feeling your pulse rise up at his actions.

One of your hands moves to the back of his head, tangling your fingers with his hair as you push his face into your neck. “Alex…” You softly moan when his tongue presses on the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He shushes you, smile appearing on his face. “Now, now, sunshine… Where did Monsieur Keller go?” He asks, pulling back, standing to his whole height as he lets his hands rest on the counter behind you, caging you in. “Let's not lose our manners, alright?”

You nod, mimicking his movements when he does; you mind already getting driven by your body and not your brain. You follow his gaze when he looks down and see his hands pulling your dress up again. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs trembling with anticipation and he knows that if he pulled them apart they would be glossy with your arousal sliding down.

He chuckles when he sees you look so bashful, averting his eyes but still unable to look away from him, needing to see what his next move will be.

To your dissatisfaction, he lets the dress down; which makes you look at him with questioning doe eyes when he steps back. You are about to question the reason for his change of heart when you see him pull the chair from the kitchen table.

He turns it, sliding it until it's right in front of you. You look from the chair to his face, questioning his plan; and instead of answering your unspoken question he simply sits down, pushing it even more forward. He pulls your dress up again, stuffing the hem of the dress into your cleavage as if it was a napkin to keep it away from his meal.

He pushes down on your chest with the same movement making you lean back on the counter, propped up on your elbows and with a seamless movement, he slides his hands behind your knees and effortlessly moves then to rest over his shoulders.

The surprise of the movement combined with the way he presses his tongue flat against your folds takes every ounce of strength away from your body making you lay flat on your back.

He groans at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, his fingertips sinking into the fat of your thighs around his head when he dives in again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, catching at your clit with a flick.

It makes your thigh tremble, threatening to close; which only encourages him further. Repeating the motion, feeling them flex on each side of his head; his hearing getting muffled with each stripe he licks.

But no matter how tightly you suffocate his skull between them, he can still hear loud and clear the moans and whines dripping from your lips.

He finally opens his eyes, not even aware that he had closed them as soon as he got a taste, letting the rest of his senses enjoy your body. But once he opens his eyes, he can't close them back.

From between your legs, the first thing he sees is your abdomen flexing at the feeling of his mouth lapping at your clit, your back arching at the attack of his tongue. The dress that he so carelessly stuffed on itself, sliding out of your cleavage with your movements. He wishes he could undo the bow keeping your boobs from his prying eyes, but not yet, not when he can prolong it and savor every minute for longer.

The only thing he doesn't love it's that he can't see your face, your head falling back; only letting him see your chin. He wishes he could see your face, see the product of his work in the shape of a pleasured expression just the way he's listening. But he'll see it later, when he's buried deep into you.

For now, he buries his tongue as deep as he cans into your cunt, feeling your inner walls clamp down on it when his nose rubs against your clit deliciously as he shakes his head. It makes you spread your legs, urging him deeper with a hand on his head. You manage to prop yourself on your free elbow, looking down at him. With your fingers tangled on his brunette hair and his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh to keep you close.

His pupils are blown, two black voids looking at you when you finally manage to make eye contact with him for a fraction of a second; before it is the last drop throwing you over the edge.

Your legs closing against his head again, unable to muffle the moan of his name as you come down from your high. His head is pressed so tightly against your cunt he can't even breath, but he would so gladly die there.

The moment your legs free his head he pulls back just enough to breathe, inhaling your smell in the way. He kisses the inner side of your tight leaving a wet spot and then stands again, standing between your legs licking his lips like an animal after eating.

The sight of your body, sprawled and fucked under him, get his dick impossibly harder. Then you raise your hand, using your thumb to collect the juices left on his mustache and before you can pull your hand back to lick it yourself, he grabs your wrist keeping it close and sucks your finger into his mouth. His scorching hot tongue cleaning the juices from your hand without breaking eye contact, it makes you whimper softly; cupping his face with your thumb still inside his mouth and you pull him closer.

“Monsieur Keller…” You whine, calling him like a moth to a light. “Please…”

“I know, love, I know.” He says once he pulls your finger out and he kisses you softly, tasting yourself on his tongue. His hands find their way around your waist pulling you closer and you circle his hips with his legs.

He picks you up, just for a second before sitting back down on the chair with you on his lap. Your hands rest on his shoulders, being you the one to kiss him this time. He can feel you grind your hips against him, the softest whine falling from your lips at the feel of the rough material of his jeans against your sensible cunt.

He moves his hand down, undoing his belt so he can pull his length free. You wish you could see it, but the dress serves as a tent when it slaps against his abdomen. The little wet spot of his seed turning translucent the fabric so you can see the red tip underneath, angry with the lack of attention.

You raise your hips, letting him slap his length against your folds; your arousal getting it slicked and desperate for the feeling of your warm walls engulfing him like a vice.

But he's not the only one desperate for it, and the moment his tip catches on your entrance you pull down in a swift motion taking all of him in, moaning into each other's mouths at the feeling. His hands rests on your hips, keeping you in place.

“Stay there for me, sweetheart.” He moans, head falling back over the backrest of the chair. “Just keep it in for me, fuck…”

His hips move in the smallest thrust, the movement would pass unnoticed if it wasn't for how deep it reaches inside of you. He finally pulls his head back up, coming face to face with your chest. And no matter how pretty the dress is or how good it looks on you, it's the only thing keeping him from seeing you and it's time it goes away.

His hands grab each side of the bow, easily getting it undone and groaning when your boobs finally spill over. He hugs your middle, burying his face between your breasts taking your aroma in before he starts to lap at them.

Licking, sucking and biting every centimeter, his hips immobile making you whine pathetically at the delicious torture of both his attention and the lack of it.

You whine his name again, needing more than just his mouth on your chest. “I know, I know, sweetheart. Just let me taste you some more…” He tries to say, words dying down on his throat when you begin to move your hips.

“T-tu… tu es… trés…” He tries to say again, so enamored with the feel of your tight cunt around his cock it makes him switch languages.

He doesn't get to finish his attempt before you push your hand over his mouth, pushing his head back. “Enough with the shitty French, Monsieur Keller…” You moan, the feeling of his length hitting every sweet spot inside of you getting ruined by his continuous butchering of your language.

He apologised against your hand, doing it again when you beg him to fuck you, your thighs getting tired of the cramped position. He pulls your dress up, pulling it off your body, finally having you completely exposed to him. His hands roam your body, getting distracted from his original plan.

Only remembering when you whine his name again, picking you up to lay you down on the kitchen table like the most precious and delicate piece of art. You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking at him with lust and hunger in your eyes.

He spreads your legs, laying his dick flat against your folds, sliding it in between making the two of you moan softly. It finally gives you the chance to catch a glimpse of his length.

The droplet of precum slowly falls over your mount of venus when he glides forwards, allowing you to see the glistering layer of your arousal mixing with his.

He moves you to lay on your side, moving your leg up, your knee almost touching your shoulder when you prop yourself up on your elbow. And at the same time he buries himself to the hilt, the double stretch making your mouth fall open as you look at him, a deaf moan waiting to be spilled.

“Big stretch, sweetheart “ He grunts as he sets himself inside of you, bending down to kiss your open mouth. He might have already been inside of you when you were both sitting down, but the new position has you feeling it all again as if he didn't.

The moan finally comes to life when his hand meets his shaft, collecting the fluids flooding for your cunt to wet his thumb and rubbing soft circles around your clit. You moan his name, your hand grabbing his shirt to ground yourself.

“Fucking hell, sunshine… Taking me so fucking good…” He moans, hiding his face on the crook of your neck. “Fuck… This cunt was fucking made to take me, love. Fucking perfect, you are. My fucking perfect sunshine.”

His thrusts start to pick up the pace, the sound of skin slapping on skin getting louder and louder; only overshadowed by the song of moans falling from one mouth to the other.

He is still almost completely dressed, his pants still over the curve of his ass. So slowly sliding down with each snap of his hips, the belt clinking with each movement. It works as proof of his desperation to be inside, no matter how uncomfortable the clothes are, it is not worth it wasting time on taking it off.

Not when your cunt is sucking him in so deliciously, each rub at your hooded clit making you clench around him; urging him impossibly deeper. His shaft dragging along your wall, caressing each and every sweet spot inside of you.

It has you closing your eyes with your eyebrows furrowed, an expression that would make him think you were in pain if it wasn't by the loud moans of his name leaving your lips like a mantra.

“Open your eyes, please, sweetheart… Look at me, love.” He moans, moving his free hand to cup your face so you will look at him. Resting his forehead against yours, your breath hitting his chin. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum, sweetheart, please.”

You finally open your eyes, looking right into his when he slightly moves back and it is like an arrow went through his heart. He notices how your free hand grabs the arm on your face, not wanting to let escape any kind of contact and his heart melts when he notices you lay your face on his hand, kissing his palm.

Such a small gesture that has his blood rushing to his head making the tip of his ears blush, as if he wasn't balls deep into you. But he feels his ball tighten with the want for release, and he can't miss the opportunity to feel you come undone around his dick.

So using every ounce of self restraint he pulls the hand from your face away, moving it back to where you are connected, rubbing his thumb over your clit making you mewl.

He can feel you get tighter and tighter as your orgasm approaches, making it harder for him to move freely at the immensely pleasurable feeling.

It's only when he finally feels you unclench, your head falling back in a silent cry and your legs shaking slightly; that he feels you cum, your arousal spurting out of your drenched cunt with each thrust of his hips.

He groans, having missed your fuck out expression when you let your head fall and deprived him of the desired sight. So he moves his hand from your clit, moving it to the back of your head to move it forward so you look right at him.

And you look so beautiful, if he died right there he would die happy, so he can't help himself when he bends forwards, kissing you sloppy and nasty with his horny brain.

The last thrusts of his hips hard and deep making you bounce and whine, moaning softly and long when you feel him spill deep inside of you. A shiver running down your spine at the warm sensation, your hand on his shirt falling down to help you support yourself.

And it's when you pull apart from the kiss, hair sticking to your forehead from the sweat, your chest rising at an unsteady pace and your cunt still pulsing around his length that he realizes how deep under his skin you have buried yourself.

He can't keep living like this, not able to sleep in the same bed as you every night, waiting for another opportunity like this, hoping everyday will be the day. He needs to see your smile everyday, to have your number, for you to have his surname, everything. Absolute smitten with you, enamored even. Falling so deep in love after such a short period of time, his heart aching at the thought of pulling away, how could he not love you when you are so obviously his soulmat-

“D'accord! That was a good one, let's wrap everything up, tout le monde!” The director shouts, bringing the situation down on Alex.

He suddenly realizes everyone around the two of you, the cameras, the crew, the assistants, the director.

The whole vineyard owner's daughter plot of the porn movie was a bit odd from the beginning, but when he laid his eyes on him he didn't give a damn about the plot.

Being a CIA agent had made Alex live in strange situations, but starring on a porn movie in a foreign country had to be the top one.

He barely remembers how this was related with the mission, something about some suspicious money being moved along with the crew. But in all honesty, he would also move all his money after you.

Especially when you clench for a last time around his girth, the aftershock of you orgasm that makes him groan as he finally pulls out. “Sorry” The two of you mumble, chuckling at the echo and blushing like you didn't just fuck eachother brains off.

He helps you stand back on your feet, his hands resting on your waist and unable to peel his eyes away from your face.

“Are you alright, Alex?” You ask, rubbing his biceps in a consoling way.

And you look at him so softly, almost unaffected by the whole ordeal, that it sends Alex into a spiral. Were those noises you were making real? Was the way you were clinging onto his shoulder true? Would you moan his name just like you moaned his surname?

He needed to know the answer to those questions, and there was only one way to find out.

“Y-Yeah, don't worry about it, love.” He says making you smile wider. “But I was wondering… do you know any good restaurants in the area? Maybe one you wouldn't mind having dinner at with me?”

Taglist: @crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @whos-fran

@thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @darkangel4121

@spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind

@cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk @reap3erslov3

@mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat @lunamoonbby

@hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @cod-z @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @archenillo @thesinsoflust @sodavrr

@yuki2129 @mikaronn @idk-justkane

[askblueandviolet]

Macaque, you are a freeloader...

At least give The Mayor a kiss. 😗

MASTER POST

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[gardengirl222]

lene we need some 80s slasher JB!!!

ohh shure! he gives creepy summer camp counselor vibes - 80s!slasher!john b

₊ ⊹ warnings! 18+ - p in v, non con, blood, violence, death, threats, slapping, spitting, obsessed!john b - ₊˚⊹

you'd gotten the most perfect job for the summer as a camp counselor at a sleep-away summer camp. after meeting everyone at the orientation you've become close to another counselor who will be working with you, john b. 

he was in charge of the boy's cabin and you the girls, and your groups would meet up for activities, bonfires, smores, and lunch. he'd honestly grown really attached to you since you were always doing things together, whenever he'd see you chatting with another guy he'd feel possessive and you weren't even dating! yet john b would also embarrassingly get hard watching you slide down your shorts, staring at how tight your bikini bottoms fit around your ass. he'd spend that night in his cabin jerking off, picturing your pretty body bouncing on top of him, wishing he could grab fistfuls of your ass. he'd finish in his fist all sweaty and out of breath. 

you sat at your group's table in the mess hall facing john b's table, both of you making eye contact every few seconds. 

when the dessert was ready, each table was called to go pick up their plate of cherry pie with vanilla ice cream. john b's eyes followed your figure as you walked up to the counter, waiting until all the little girls got their slices. one of the guys that was working inside the kitchen, clearly flirting with you, asks if you want some. you decline with a smile but the young man insists, saying he made it himself, he lifts up the fork with a piece of the warm pie and dripping ice cream to your lips. you indulge him by opening your mouth and closing it around the fork, swallowing the desert you widen your eyes and nod. "it's really good!" you smile, the guy's hand reaching out to swipe the little bit of ice cream that stayed on the edge of your lip. 

watching this, john b was furious, letting that fucking feed you, touch your lips....

that night, the little girls knock on your cabin door, right next to theirs. they complain that they heard someone scream coming from the mess hall and are too scared to sleep. you tell them it's probably nothing and to go back to sleep, that you'll check it out.

the girls do as they're told and you walk over to the mess hall and walk inside the dark space to see what could have been the noise, hearing some sort of noise coming from inside the kitchen you figure it could be an animal that got inside, you press your ear to the swinging door honestly too scared to actually look inside. 

the door then swings open, causing you to stumble back and meet eyes with john b, with blood on his shirt, hands, and on the knife in his hands. you stand there confused...'did he cut himself?' you think, then you see it, through the open door is the pie guy dead on the floor with his blood pooling around his body. john b's hand is quick to cover your mouth before you can scream, "shshsh, you don't need to do that bub, you're fine." he whispers, maintaining eye contact with you. 

you nod your head slowly, chest heaving. 

"i'm gonna let go now okay? need you to be quite f'me, can you do that?" he raises his eyebrows and you nod again, he takes his hand off our mouth. "m'gonna need to take your clothes off...got blood on them..." he tells you rather than asks you, he raises the knife and cuts your top up the middle. 

"john b? what's going on..." you whisper, clearly scared. 

"i can't wait anymore, you drive me crazy, i need to do this." he rambles while tugging off your shorts rather roughly. 

"john b did you stab the kitchen b-" he cuts you off with a rough kiss to keep you quiet. he manhandles you over one of the tables and lifts you on top, facing him. 

you whine as he brings the knife up to your face. 

"don't scream, don't want to whole camp to hear you, n'i don't want to hurt you pup"

you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks as he cuts your panties to get access to your hot messy pussy. 

"awww she's so pretty..." he coos, his big rough fingers slowly rubbing your clit, making you mewl. 

"jombee...i don't wanna...you killed someone!" you shake your head, almost hyperventilating crying. 

"hey, nuh uh, stop that." he pats your face to get you to listen to him. you watch as he pulls off his bloody shirt and unzips his shorts and pulls himself out, your eyes widening at the size. "he's not the only one i killed." he looks back into your eyes and you swear your heartbeat sped up and so did the pulsing of your cunt. 

"you're a murderer johnbee," you whisper but then gasp when you feel him start to push in, stretching your pussy. 

"i know, m'really mean, huh puppy?" he pouts mockingly and pinches one of your nipples making you squeal. 

"don't like being mean to you, but when you walk around acting like an angel, when i know you're a little tease...kinda have'ta put you in your place," he grunts, pounding into hard now, you can see the little bulge in your tummy. 

"i wasn't! i didn't mean to be! i didn't do anything!" you sob, one hand grabbing onto the table and the other hand gripping his bicep. blood sorta covering both of you from where he had touched you, he grabs your face with his hand and forces you to look at him. 

"wish you could be my good girl right now n'just take. it." he thrusts harder with his last two words. you wish you could scream at how scared you are of him but also at how good it feels. 

"open." he grunts, squeezing your jaw a little. you shake your head no as best you can, causing him to let go of your jaw and slap you, making your drooly cunt clench around him. "m'not asking again." he grabs your jaw again, and you open your mouth, and he spits into it making you whine in disgust. "swallow." you do as your told and swallow tears continuing to fall. 

"that's how a dumb little doggy gets treated, they get spit on." he grins and pulls out of you, manhandles you off the table, and bends you over, tits and face pressed against the wood. 

"nooo...no.." you drool onto the table. 

he bends down a bit to be right in front of your ass and spits on your other tight little hole, watching as his spit drips down to your pussy. you squeeze your eyes shut at the feeling and sob a little louder. 

he stands up straight again and reaches around to pat your sloppy little cunt now covered in his spit, and slides his cock back in. 

"s-so gross..." you mewl, making him laugh quietly, bringing the back of his bloody hand up to your face. 

"cum around me or i'll smear this on your face, you want that? hmm? some guy's blood on your face?" he threatens. "c'mon..." he bends down to press icky wet kisses to your cheek that instantly cum on on him, pulsing and squeezing him as your mind goes dumb. his big hand covering your mouth as you moan.

"there she is, good girl...yeaaah" he praises, thrusting into you more sloppily until he's pumping you full, flooding your poor little pussy. 

after a few seconds, he pulls out and uses his tip to smear yours and his cum around your pussy lips. 

"here." he hands you his bloody shirt for you to put on knowing it'll cover you enough to get back to your cabin decent, you pull his shirt over your head and make sure it covers your ass.

"we'll talk more tomorrow, okay sweetie? gotta go...clean that up." he tilts his head toward the body. "goodnight kiss?" he bits his lip, squinting his eyes, taunting you. you stand there lifting your head, he leans down to give you one last kiss on your lips, a string of saliva connecting your lips when he pulls away.  ᥫ᭡

[hellfirenacht]

C'mon, It's Just One Night (Part 1)

Summary: After getting a fake love note in your locker, you ask Eddie to help you mess up some bullies plans. 

Tags: Eddie Munson x Reader, sfw, fem reader, reader wears a dress at one point, mentions of bullying, actual bullying, two-shot

Master List

Work Count: 3.7k Words

You ain't seen nothing yet....

The thing that always confused you about jocks and popular kids was that they always assumed that everyone else was dumber than them. Girls would come up to you and give you a compliment that was clearly not sincere and when you thanked them just to get them to leave you alone they would giggle and think that you believed them. Guys would ask you on dates as a joke and you’d roll your eyes and try to ignore them, even as they tried desperately for your attention for their own amusement. 

Thankfully, there were certain perks that came with being in the Hellfire Club. Being associated with Eddie “the Freak” Munson meant that as long as you were standing near your friend, you’d mostly be left alone. You’d sit with him at lunch, try and walk with him to class in the hallways, and in general just tried to avoid any jock that looked particularly bored. 

However it had been quiet over the past few weeks, too quiet for your liking. Honestly, you were almost missing some of the backhanded compliments because it at least gave you a chance to blow off some steam outside of Hellfire. Well, something out there heard your wish and that’s how you found yourself watching from the other end of the hallway as two boys shoved a note in your locker, snickering to themselves. 

Well, this should be entertaining at least. 

They didn’t even try and look around to see if anyone was watching them, too caught up in their own scheme to realize the person who’s locker they were messing with was watching them from just a few yards away. 

“-’s gonna be so funny.” laughed one. You didn’t even know their names. There were so many people at this school that how were you expected to keep up with everyone when you didn’t even speak to them?

“Yeah, she’s gonna be embarrassed and we’ll get a free show out of it.” laughed the other one. 

You were right there. How was it that you could be on their radar for this shit and yet still remain completely invisible? 

The two turned around and you pretended to be throwing something away in a nearby trash can quickly, so that they wouldn’t realize that you had been staring at them. 

“There she is, we gotta go!” you heard one say in a voice that you assumed was his idea of whispering as the two scampered off while trying to hold off their laughter. 

You gave them a generous thirty seconds to get away before making your way to your locker and opening it up, grabbing the note and reading it over. It took everything you had not to burst out laughing right there, and you were just going to throw it away when you had an idea. 

Tucking it into your pocket, you smiled and made your way to the drama room for Hellfire as you started making your own plans for what you’d just read. 

“And with the Dwarf’s golden pick rightfully returned to him, I think this is a good stopping point.” Eddie said, finally sitting back in his chair. He’d been really revved up today, jumping around the table and getting in everyone’s faces as he described what was happening. He’d nearly rammed his head into yours at one point and you had barely managed to lean back enough so he didn’t. 

Eddie was always revved up, always ready to put on a show. He wasn’t afraid to be loud or call out the bullshit of what was expected. Eddie would jump on tables, get in people's faces, declare himself King Freak. 

He was perfect. 

...For your plan. Nothing more. You knew he’d be on board when you explained what you wanted to do. He was perfect for... that. 

As the rest of the club filed out, you stayed behind to help clean up the leftover soda cans and break down the board. You were also stalling because you didn’t want any of the other members to witness what you were about to ask of Eddie. 

“Your Scottish accent is getting better and worse at the same time.” you said, handing him one of the minis. “Sometimes you nail it, and sometimes I don’t think you’re even trying to say anything legible.” 

“It’s better than your character's accent! Is your tiefling from New Jersey or trans-atlantic?” Eddie laughed, shoving his notes unceremoniously in a folder. 

“Why do Dwarves need to be Scottish anyway?” you ignored his question, fully aware that your accents were no better. “I think you should mix it up. Make Canadian dwarves or something.”

This is how Hellfire usually ended, with the two of you joking around and talking about the session and making fun of each other while you tried to get hints about what was to come. He never gave anything away. 

You blew out a few candles and Eddie went to readjust the lights. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the note. 

“So, Eddie.” you started, turning to him. “Remember how last month I helped you study for Mrs. O’Donnel’s midterm and you got a solid B?”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he stopped what he was doing to look at you. Under the multicolored spotlights he looked... you never had the words to describe it. He just looked like Eddie. The Eddie that should be playing guitar on stage or the Eddie that kept your attention so easily and rapturously when he was running his games. You weren’t ready to say that to his face yet, despite the contradiction of what you were about to do. 

“I remember.” he said, walking over to you and crossing his arms. “I take it you aren’t just bringing up a fond memory of us to reminisce about?”

“Not a chance.” you looked into his brown doe eyes. “It’s time for you to pay up.” And with that you handed over the note. 

Eddie took it with a slight tilt of his head and unfolded it, scanning the contents. 

My Dearest, 

I’ve been watching you for weeks now, enraptored by your beauty. I’ve been too shy to talk to you, but now I want the chance to confess to you. I’m in love with you, and have been all year. I don’t care if everyone thinks you’re some weird Satanist freak because I’m into that. Please be my date for homecoming and meet me at the school at 7:30 pm.

-Your secret admirer  

“It’s not really a secret if you’re handing this directly to my face.” Eddie said, looking up from the note. “And you spelled ‘enraptured’ wrong.” 

“I found this in my locker.” you said, ignoring his comments. “Some jocks think they’re being funny and are clearly trying to pull some sort of prank to humiliate me.” 

“Think it’s a Carrie situation?” Eddie asked, looking over the note again before handing it back to you. 

“They don’t have the guts to get any pig's blood.” you shook your head. 

“So what does this have to do with me? You know that Hellfire doesn’t do school dances.” He said. “I thought we were just gonna blow it off, and Corroded Coffin is gonna do a secret show at the Quarry.”

“Eddie, all your shows are secret.”

“Not true, we have recently gained another groupie. There are now a grand total of six drunks that regularly listen to us play.” Eddie pouted. “Six and a half if you count the cat that’s been hanging around the Hideout.” 

“Yeah, okay, remember me when you’re famous.” You said. “Listen, I need your help. I’m coming to you wanting to cash in my favor. I need the Freak to help me out here, Eddie.”

“For what, exactly?” His eyes narrowed, but you stood your ground. 

“If I show up to homecoming, something's gonna happen. The best case scenario is that I show up and they ignore me and laugh while I wait for this fake person to show up. The worst case scenario ends with pigs blood and me learning I have telekinetic powers.” You explained. 

“So why even bother going? I thought we all agreed that Hellfire doesn’t do school events.” 

That was a good point, and you were making a gamble on this. Eddie didn’t do school events, and tried to make it a rule for his club as well. That didn’t go over well when Mike insisted that he was going to take his girlfriend Jane to homecoming, and everyone finally came clean that Lucas was playing both sides of the field and playing basketball AND doing Hellfire. 

You had to admit, Eddie’s face of disappointment and disapproval was pretty funny. You felt bad for the guy though, he avoided anything school related like the plague outside of this club. Eddie had boasted that he’d never gone to prom or homecoming, and had been skipping any pep rally since his second senior year. 

“You agreed that you didn’t go to events. I never agreed to anything.” you said firmly. “I only agreed to show up every Friday and wear the Hellfire shirt.”

“And again I ask, what does this have to do with me?” Eddie pushed. 

“Be my date for homecoming.” you said. “My fake date. I want you to get to me before they have the chance to.”

Eddie froze for a second, a thousand emotions flashing through his eyes at once. You’d seen this look countless times when one of his players had thrown him a curve-ball and he had to scramble to figure out how to make it work for the game. 

“Your fake date.” he said slowly. “So you want me to- what exactly?” 

“I want you to show up and pretend to be the person who wrote this note.” you explained. “I’ll pretend to be thrilled, you get to be seen with a cute girl at a dance, the gossip train gets something to talk about, and the jocks get their plans foiled. Everybody wins.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at your plan. “Or you could just not show up at all and just come help us set up for the show.” He said. 

“But that’s not fun.” You pointed out. “Besides, if they think we’re together even just for the night then they’ll leave me alone. Probably”

Eddie looked skeptical. 

“Please?” you leaned closer, making your eyes wide as possible. “Eddie, these dicks have been on my ass all semester. I can’t go two weeks without getting asked out as a joke or having some meat head yell about how his “friend thinks I’m cute”. It’s fucking annoying, and ignoring them has done jack and shit.” 

You saw the stone look in his eyes falter and his shoulders ease up. “You’re really serious about this?” he asked. 

“I am.” you confirmed. “You do this for me, and you can have full creative control. Show up in your Hellfire shirt, hell you could show up in your pjs and I’ll pretend to be thrilled that you’re my secret admirer. We’ll make sure that we’re seen, then we can go to the quarry. We don’t even have to stay for fifteen minutes. Just show up for me, Eddie. Please.” 

Eddie took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands. “Fifteen minutes. All I have to do is show up and pretend that I’m your secret admirer and then we leave. Right?”

“Right.” You promised. “That’s all I need.”

Eddie sighed deeply and grabbed his jacket and threw it on. “I am never asking for your help studying again. You drive a hard bargain.” Despite his words he had a grin on his face. 

“I’m going easy on you, if you had gotten an A I’d be demanding that you show up in a full tux with roses.” you teased. “I’m talking about the full cheesy school dance treatment. Corsage, first dance, all of it.”

“Don’t even start, you’d have to get me to completely ace her whole class to get that kind of treatment.” Eddie grabbed your shoulder and started pushing you up the stairs. “I wouldn’t even know where to get a tux.” 

“I think you’re supposed to rent one.” you laughed as the two of you made your way out of the drama room and closed the door. “I, however, will need to actually buy my dress.”

“You’re really gonna get a dress for this? We’re only going for fifteen minutes.” Eddie pointed out. 

“Oh, would you rather me show up looking terrible?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “You really wanna show up and fake-confess to me looking plain and like I don’t care?”

“You really want to sell this, huh?” Eddie laughed. 

“It’s the only way I can think of for them to stop.” You said. 

The two of you made your way to the parking lot. Eddie walking you to your car. 

“Remember Eddie, you have full creative control over how you want to do this.” you said, getting in the driver's seat. “I don’t care how you show up, just go loud.”

“Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson would never disappoint.” he said, closing the door for you with a flourish.

You were going to get a dress for this. 

No, you weren’t, you were only going to be there for fifteen minutes at most. 

But your mom would want to take pictures and be thrilled you were even going. After all, you’d avoided it during your first four years of high school. 

And you wanted to. 

That was the real kick in the pants for all this. You wanted to go to homecoming. You wanted to have a night to dress up and look nice and have fun with your friends. Unfortunately, only the freshmen were going to the dance, and as much as you loved Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, you didn’t really think you’d have a lot of fun with some kids a good five years younger than you. Hell, Mike and Lucas had actual dates and Dustin had a long distance girlfriend! 

You’d be the single person in the group and that didn’t exactly put points in your favor for sticking around for the dance. The rest of Hellfire didn’t bother going to these kinds of things, as this town made it clear that school events were for normal people who enjoyed normal things, whatever the fuck that meant. 

As much as you denied ever wanting to go to homecoming or prom, you knew that you wanted to, and you knew who you wanted to go with. 

On the bright side, at least you’d get your secret wish now, even if it was for fifteen minutes. 

Eddie had made it clear since the first time the words “school dance” were uttered in his presence a few years ago that he wasn’t going to even entertain the idea of showing up. Those nights were dedicated to one shots or longer sessions for Hellfire. So for the past few years you had skipped out on any dances in favor of at least telling your beat up journal that you had technically spent prom or homecoming with Eddie Munson. 

You walked into the department store that you knew had a sizable selection of dresses, took one look at the price tags, and walked right back out. It was insane to spend that money on one night of dancing, let alone fifteen minutes. 

Besides, where else would you even wear a dress like that? You laughed at the idea of showing up to Hellfire, with your shirt on over whatever you would have picked. That’d be stupid. 

....

But it’d also be funny. 

You walked back into the department store and ignored the front and center mannequins to hit up the clearance rack instead. Even as you browsed, you were still trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need to buy something for this. Eddie was probably just going to show up in his old faded DIO shirt and some old jeans (maybe the ones that had that hole in the butt that showed his boxers when you stood behind him, if you were lucky). He probably wouldn’t even brush his hair. 

You had a choice to make. How much of an effort did you want to put into your appearance for this? Should you follow Eddie’s approach and just show up as normal, or should you allow yourself an indulgence in the Cinderella fantasy? What did you want, and what did this revenge situation call for?

You wanted to look nice. You wanted to tell your journal that you had a date with Eddie and that you looked good and that those asshole jocks didn’t even recognize you. Wouldn’t it be better that way anyway? No matter what Eddie looked like when he showed up, the point would be made clear; you were off the market (as far as anyone would be able to tell) and Eddie Munson had gotten the girl. No, not the girl; a girl. Being the girl implied that you were someone that Eddie had an interest in. 

Dresses of different lengths and cuts and colors started to blend together as you indulged in the fantasy of matching your dress to whatever Eddie was going to wear. You flipped through the dress rack while you mentally flipped through all the shirts you had seen Eddie wear in the last few weeks. He favored darker colors most times, the main exception being the white Hellfire Club shirt. 

“Dark clothes don’t stain as easily.” he’d explained before. 

You kept flipping through the racks of last seasons’ fashion, trying to find something that you could wear. Halfway through you considered giving up and just showing up in what you would have worn to the quarry if you hadn’t planned this whole thing. 

You need to commit to the bit. You reminded yourself. These jocks are expecting you to look pretty and then try to embarrass you. Don’t half ass it.

Sucking it up, you made your way over to the normal racks. Your mom had given you some cash to buy yourself a nice dress, but you had been hoping to just buy something cheaper and save the rest to buy off of Eddie later. 

You walked out of the store, bag in hand, with a receipt showing a number that made you feel sick. You reminded yourself over and over it was for you, Eddie, and your mom. 

“Are you sure you have the charisma for this?” Gareth asked. “You always roll shit with any charisma roll.”

“Gareth, I don’t know if you know this, but rolling a die and saying that I’m trying to do something is different than actually doing it outside of the game.” you said as the two of you made your way into the Library. You had it on good authority that this was the jocks study hall period, and you wanted to really sell your plan. 

“I still don’t get why I have to be part of this. I’m not even going to homecoming either.” He grumbled. “This whole thing is stupid. You should just come to the show instead.” 

“I can do both.” you waved him off. “All I need you to do is let me talk at you-”

“You do that anyway.”

“Yes, but this time I need you to pretend to be invested.” You explained. “You let me talk about how excited I am for homecoming and to meet my secret admirer and I use my powers of being able to leave school during lunch to bring you McDonald’s tomorrow.” 

Gareth couldn’t argue with that, no teenage boy could resist the sweet temptation of greasy fast food in the middle of the school day. It was more than a fair trade, even if Gareth didn’t see the point in this. You just really wanted to sell your plan. 

“Remember, all you need to do is ask me who I’m going to Homecoming with.” you reminded him. 

The two of you walked over to where the group of basketball players were goofing off and not really studying, and the two who had slid the note into your locker started nudging each other and snickering to themselves. 

“So who are you going to homecoming with?” Gareth asked, his line delivery stiff and unnatural and disinterested. You had to fight with yourself to not roll your eyes at the lackluster performance. 

“I don’t know!” your voice was a little higher pitched at the response, trying to emulate the cheerleaders you’d seen giggling in their groups as they gossiped. You pulled the note that you had been keeping in your pocket. “I got this note asking me to meet them at the dance, so I have no idea!”

You continued to gush to the disinterested Gareth how excited you were to be asked to go, and speculating on who it could be. The entire time, your friend looked like he’d rather be smashing his head against the table than listen to you talk about this, which was honestly more fun for you than the jocks reactions. 

From the table behind you, the normally loud group of boys were attempting to be quiet as they snickered and nudged each other. You wished that Gareth would try and talk a little more so that you could stop talking to eavesdrop on them. 

When the jocks started getting louder again, that’s when you dropped the conversation. They weren’t interested in hearing anymore and so you weren’t either. 

“So what was the point of that?” Gareth muttered, making his way to the exit of the library. 

“I don’t want them to forget about me. If I’m gonna be completely honest, I really just expected them to totally forget they left something in my locker about this.” you adjusted your backpack, following him out. “I’m committed to the bit.”

“Sounds like you’re just asking for trouble.” He shook his head. 

“Maybe a little.” you sighed. “Eddie and I are graduating this year and I don’t want to look back at my time here and think that I just took the bullshit that was given to me. I just want them to get off my ass for the rest of the year.” 

“Do you really think it’ll work?” 

“Only one way to find out.” 

Part 2 It's Gonna Be A Night We'll Never Forget (Coming Soon)

Dividers By: @strangergraphics

Tag List: @somethingvicked @ladysilence @leelei1980 @seexyyprincess @rosebudsgarden @ghcstpyre @crocwork-clockodile

[confessioncassette]

The Belly of a Black Heart - Alastor x Reader

18+. minors do not interact.

thank you @lustylita for the inspiration of this fic. your mind is a beautiful place. everyone check out her art and her concept to this story here. all credits to her, this was not my idea.

part 2

summary : After an unsuspecting death, you end up in hell and at the Hazbin Hotel. You become dead set on redemption. Alastor's feelings towards you are confusing and it pisses him off more than he can handle. In result, unknowingly to him, his feelings manifest through his shadow.

tw : no smut this chapter. angst. alastor being a jerk. mild gore/wound

words : 5.3k

notes : i hope you enjoy this chapter <3

When you wake the next morning, your head is a blur. Sitting up in your bed you take a minute to look around your new living situation. It takes a second to understand that this isn’t the room you usually wake up in but, despite all of that, you feel good. 

The reality of being in hell was hard on you yesterday. You’ve had your little breakdown and denial fest.. you won’t let that bother you today. Pushing past things is how you manage. Always one step at a time. Plus, you’re in a place that offers redemption now. What’s done is done and now you can focus on how to get into heaven and maybe sort out a plan there. With God or something, right? 

He’s literally God, maybe he could help your situation on earth. You doubt anyone here could help you… or even want to help you. 

No headaches, your body doesn’t burn… today feels like you can start fresh. Rolling to get out of bed, your eyes catch a bundle of red in the corner of your eye.  

Three red peonies tied together in a bow lay delicately over your unoccupied pillow.

You examine the vibrant flowers and thumb around the stems. You wonder who was thoughtful enough to give a simple yet welcoming gift. 

Alastor’s fleeting expression and charming smile snatches your memory from last night. Your face almost burns, remembering how close he was to you, his face grazing against your cheek, breath fanning over you as it does. 

Smiling to yourself, you think today would be a good day to get back on track. Charlie is willing to help you, and you might learn more about the gentleman from last night. You can even thank him for the lovely flowers. 

The hotel buzzes with life when you walk to the formal dining room. Delicious breakfast foods waft through the air. The warm smell of coffee buzzes through your body. 

“C’mon Husky, don’t chya wanna try it? I’ve been slavin’ over this all mornin’ for ya!” A tall, fluffy man leans over the dining room table, sliding a plate of food to a grumpy cat. 

“Fuck no! Satan knows what you put in there and I don’t wanna risk dying twice.” Taking a swig from a browned bottle, the cat pushes away the plate. 

The tall man’s shoulder slump as he lets out a groan. “Fine, but one day you’re gunna try my cookin’ and you’ll love it. You might even beg for moore.” He teases, taking the plate for himself as Husk rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, good morning! How was your first night?” Charlie beams from the head of the table and everyone’s heads swivel to you. Suddenly, you’re on the spot. 

“It was great, thank you. I actually had the best sleep I’ve had in a while,” you smile, “I needed it.” 

“Everyone welcome our new guest! She arrived late last night.” 

It was a small creature with a giant eye who lunged herself toward you first. Her little legs patting the floor and up your body before you could react. 

“I’m Nifty, I clean.” A sinister giggle erupts from her lips before the tall man who offered.. Husk is it?.. a plate gently and removes her from you. 

“Hey doll, I’m Angel.”

Alastor watches from the hallway as the group introduces themselves to you. Hidden in the shadows, he watches you closely. The way you smile fondly towards people you barely know, how you embrace each one with a greeting. Clearly, you lighten the room. But you’re a mystery, and one he doesn’t want to get involved with. 

Does he? 

Your sweet doe eyes are burned in a memory. He couldn’t help but get close enough to smell you, and fuck, did your saccerine smell burn through his nostrils as well. He could see your panic, the reality of your new eternal life smacking you in the face… the frustration it caused you last night. 

But were you really keen on redemption? He could see the light beam behind your eyes once you stood at the center of your room. You belong here, you’re here for a reason. It’s hell afterall. Every sinner who comes here belongs to this wretched place to burn forever. Surely Charlie’s delusions didn’t persuade you in one night? 

Surely you’re not that…simple? 

“Will Alastor be joining us for breakfast? He’s the only one I haven’t seen this morning.” Alastor ears perk up at your voice from afar. 

“Ehh, smiles doesn’t usually eat with us. Probably up in his room going to town on some animal he caught this mornin’.” Angel grimaces. 

Watching your reaction closely, the slight fall of your face doesn’t go unnoticed. But you’re quick to recover with a smile and dig in with everyone else. 

“Okay everyone! Gather around! Today we will be learning about each other.” Charlie’s hand gestures to you on the couch as everyone else filters into the common room. 

Angel plops himself over the couch’s armchair next to you, stretching his long legs over your thighs. Husk mopes in the room, bottle in hand and leans against the fireplace. Nifty props herself over the table happily swinging her legs and Vaggie stands beside her partner, eyeing everyone down. 

Your eyes carefully glance around the room, trying not to bring attention that you’re looking for Alastor. From your comment at breakfast before, you don’t want to keep bringing the man up to avoid conversations you don’t want to have. 

But it fails. 

“Looking for tall dark and creepy?” Angel shimmies his chest and throws you a wink. 

Rolling your eyes you push playfully at Angel’s leg. “No, just making sure everyone is here.” Giving him a side eye you whisper, “nosey.”

Angel laughs and gives you a nudge, “Well looks like you’re in luck toots, looks who’s comin’.” 

Perking up, you watch Alastor’s tall form stride in the room and take a seat in an armchair directly across from you. His smile is wide, but it seems strained? Folding one leg over the other, he relaxes back into his seat. His eyes scan the room, probably checking for roll-call, before landing directly over you. 

You give a smile but he doesn’t react. 

“Okay! Now that everyone is here, we will be telling 2 truths and a lie. Everyone will say two truths about themselves and one lie. The group will have to guess which one is a lie. So fun!” Charlie claps. 

“I don’t want to put our new guest on the spot, so let’s start with Husk.”

A low groan emits from the fireplace where Husk stands. He really looks like he doesn’t want to be here, but maybe he’s been here long enough to know that he has to participate. 

“Alright, uh, I can down a whole bottle of whiskey with no reaction, I suck at dice games, and I hate water.”

“I’ll give you something to down, Husky~” Angel tosses his head back and blows him a kiss. 

“For fuckssake,” Husk rolls his eyes.

“Oh oh! I know, the lie is he hates water! I’ve seen him take bubble baths at night.” Nifty giggles sinisterly. 

“Okay good job, Nifty.” Vaggie cringes and turns her attention to you, “Would you like to give it a try next?” 

Glancing between her and Alastor’s heavy stare, has he been looking at you this whole time? You shrug. “Sure, I'll give it a shot. Let me think…” You hum. 

“I’ve been in hell for a long time, I love to dance and I’m pretty good at it, and I stole drugs when I was alive.” You’re not that great with coming up with things on the spot, but you gave it your best shot. First things that came to your mind and all without being too personal. 

Angel drags out a hum, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt that you can dance. Not sure if I would paint you as someone who would steal. You act like Miss-goodie-two-shoes’s-distant relative over there. I’m gunna go with that one.”

You couldn’t help but contain your smile, you could have sworn that your appearance gave you away that you literally died just yesterday. 

“Nope! I died yesterday and found this place last night. Thank god I saw your commercial, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t.” 

Angel’s mouth drops open and leans forward. “Hold on, you’re like, super fresh? No kiddin’. So… you stole drugs?” He looks you up and down, “can you do it again?” 

“Matter of fact, we don’t know much about you. Anything at all really. I’ll take it you’re here because you stole, but there’s gotta be more than that.” Husk examines his bottle. 

You shift in your seat uncomfortably. “Yeah, I stole but- I don’t know.” Memories of stealing drugs, scamming people for money flood your mind. That stuff was bad, but did it really land you here in hell? I’m sure it’s a part of the 10 commandments or sins or whatever… 

The man. Your knife. 

You killed someone right before dying. 

“What drugs do you like? I got some good connections. We could totally-”

“No! Nonono, no one is going to do that. Say no to drugs! Remember we are trying to get redeemed?” Charlie’s arms wave frantically as she lets out a nervous laugh. 

It was all for protection. You never wanted to hurt anyone like that before, it’s not like you wake up blood thirty for killing. It was self defense. 

Guilt bubbles within your gut, and it’s getting hard to breathe. Would they even care if you killed? You’re sure almost everyone in hell has killed, even in the afterlife. 

“C’mon, toots, tell us a little about yourself. This is about sharing after-all,” Angel teases. “I wanna know all the shit you did when you were alive! You sound like a good time, Y’know my girl buddy would love you-”

“I think that’s enough for today.” A staticy voice interrupts the conversation. Your head swivels to meet the demon who carries a strained smile. The hair on his ears stick up in a frenzy while his claws grip over the top of his microphone cane. 

“But Alastor we barely got star-”

“I think,” Alastors voice grows with static, every word pronounced precisely, “that is enough for today.”

Angel's legs slide off you as he stands to stretch, “Aww what a buzzkill.”

Before you have the chance to leave the room, your face is met with Alastor’s chest. 

He lifts his chin, but his eyes bore down at yours. Your eyes shoot wide with the proximity, and something within his chest spurs as wait for him to speak. 

“I would like to speak with you privately, my dear.”

Following him up the stairs and into his radio tower, you tread lightly in new territory. Papers over his desk are neatly stacked next to a forgotten cup of coffee. The walls are floor to ceiling windows overlooking Pride, you’ve come to know. Dusk stretches the horizon and little dots of light twinkle in the distance over the city. On the other side of the room, old equipment lined the wall. Hundreds of knobs and switches cover the machines and you wonder how he’s able to work such equipment. Speakers, extra microphones sat upon a bookshelf along with books, magazines and other nic-nacs you’re sure he has collected through the years. 

You’re not sure how old the demon is, and you’re not sure how you haven’t thought about it since meeting him, especially when he has taken up most of your mind these past 24 hours. 

You guess he’s from the roaring 20’s? 30’s? He’s dressed sophisticatedly with not a hair out of place. His posture paints him a perfect gentleman in a society where it mattered. His transatlantic accent was smooth and you long to hear it more than you should, or do. And guessing by this set up, the ON AIR sign that hangs directly over his desk, you could be right. 

But what of this demon? What is his story? You’ll put a pin in it and ask angel later-

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you here so I’ll cut to the chase.” Alastor’s arms are neatly behind his back as he looks over Pride. Without turning to you, he continues. 

“I’m looking for more help around the hotel. Husk’s job is primarily tending to the bar, Nifty cleans and Charlie is over her head with trying to recruit sinners. I’d like to say that I have everything handled with paperwork and trying to keep this pace afloat, but I don’t.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. He.. can’t handle it all? He definitely gives the calm, cool collected attitude of one who would never need help. 

“So, you need my help? I thought I was just a sinner trying to get redemption?” 

Alastor stiffens for a moment before turning to you. “I thought you should know that Charlie and I had a discussion earlier. We think that you fit into the family seamlessly. We both thought you would be great at helping us with our little project.” He tilts his head, scanning you over, “Unless you don’t want to?” 

You shake your head. This might not be a bad idea. This could actually help you in more ways than one. This could help you more with gaining redemption and be a part of a bigger picture. 

“No, that all sounds great actually. What exactly do you have in mind for me to help you with?” 

“More of the mundane things like checking over the hotel to make sure everything is in order, placing orders for food, toilet paper - the essentials.”

“So the mundane things you don’t want to do?” You laugh lightheartedly. “Sure, Alastor, I can do that for you. Do you have a check list for me?”

In one snap, Alastor conjures up a daily ‘to-do” list for you. Your eyes widen at his magic.

“If you can do that, why can’t you make food and toilet paper appear instead of ordering it?” 

His smile is smug, “It’s a lot more complicated than that, little doe” 

Turning on your heel, you say over your shoulder, “One day, I’d like to properly thank you for the flowers you left me.”

He watches you disappear through the doorway, confusion carved over his face. Flowers? 

What an interesting thing to say… An odd woman. 

Woman. Your presence had been the first in his studio.

Charlie and the guests know that no one is allowed in this room, for it’s locked 24/7. This room is his pride, his sanctuary and the one thing he’s carried on since dying. Besides killing and torturing innocent people, he supposes. 

Clawing at the staff of his cane he shakes the thought of your company being… comforting. 

His ear twitches in frustration. This foreign feeling- this odd hunger for catching your eye in a sea of others, to smell you near has become a twisted form of entertainment. He has to ignore the way his lower belly heats and aches when you're near…Is it entertainment? He stares at the door where you just stood. 

Is his curiosity growing in the little moments you spend together or is it something he can’t pinpoint? His facade will fail to hold if he continues like this. 

A predator assessing his pray like it’s a game. Except, it doesn’t feel like that kind of a hunt. 

-

Stepping out from the bathroom after your nighttime routine, a darkness catches the corner of your eye. 

“Hello?” you call out. 

The darkness in the corner slithers across the floor and manifests itself in the center of your room. 

You curse under your breath, while it’s not the craziest thing you’ve seen, it’s definitely unexpected. 

“Um, hello there…” You stay standing in the doorway of your bathroom. Looking the creature over as it stands tall. 

The creature, no, shadow, is dark, but you can make out that its body is made up of swirling smoke. It’s face gives a chiseled smile, imitating teeth through the smoke, and resting on top of it’s head were a pair of outgrown antlers that stretch wide. 

You tilt your head at the creature, curious on why it hasn’t responded to you. 

It tilts his head back, mimicking your movement. 

“Cute,” you giggle, “what are you?” 

The shadows' eyes glow green in response and gives you a bigger grin. 

“Are you here at the hotel too? I just got here yesterday…” you shift on the balls of your feet. “Do you have a name?” 

The shadow dissipates into the ground and for a moment, you’re spooked. Backing up into your bathroom, a coldness caresses your neck from behind. 

Spinning around fast, you’re met with it again. The creature folds forward to meet your face. 

Oh fuck no. 

You fumble backwards a little too fast but the creature is quick to catch you by an arm. It steadies you easily. 

“You’re.. Good, right? Friend?” The words fall stupidly out of your mouth. You feel like you’re talking to a child in simple words and a sweet voice. God knows that this creature is probably thousands of years old but you’re speaking to it like it lacks some form of intelligence. 

The creature smiles and nods, backing away from you before wisping itself around your body in a cloud of smoke. 

Warmth surrounds your body, unlike the coldness around your neck from before. 

“Friend, okay…good.” You smile and embrace the dance it gives you.

The creature manifests itself over in front of your nightstand and the bundle of shadows steps aside to reveal the red peonies from this morning. Your eyebrows raise and realization hits you.

“That was you? What a lovely gift to give.. To me.” Surprise followed by stupidity hits you in the last bit of that sentence. 

How could you be so stupid to think Alastor would give you those flowers? He hasn’t even spent much time around you, let alone want to speak to you. Every time you’re in the vicinity of him, he pretends you don’t exist. 

Foolish. 

Foolish to think that he would even take a liking to you. 

And you mentioned it to him hours ago… God, he’s probably so confused and you look like a fucking idiot. 

The shadow slumps at your reaction. Its swirls grow faster over its body, like the wheels in its head are thinking of a way to cheer you up. 

Warmth caresses around your hips and playfully drags you to your bed. You let it happen because, for some ungodly reason, you trust this shadow. 

It’s gentle hand lingers over your face, brushing over the skin of your cheek. A familiar feeling. Almost like the feeling of last night when Alastor’s-

No. 

The creature lifts your chin to look at him as he takes a seat by you on the bed and you mentally brush away the cringe.

You both stare at each other for a moment. You're entranced by its odd behavior. Although, its presence feels familiar, a kind of nostalgia you cannot place. His warmth feels like a gentle hug, a friend in the darkness when you're alone. 

The faint smell of whiskey, a bar of soap and lemongrass. 

A warm song that dances inside your nostrils. 

Your room is quiet, as you let the shadow tickle your face and neck. 

Soft music begins to play when your eyes fight sleep. But you give into the lull of the shadows lullaby. 

-

From that first night of meeting the creature, you’re woken up gently by it patting your head and urging you to get dressed. Funny enough, the creature disappears while you get ready, giving you privacy. But ultimately, you wouldn’t mind it at all if it stayed. 

One night, after a particularly hard day working under Alastor, you named the being. 

Umbra.

Not the most creative, but it was the first thing that popped in your head… and he, you’ve come to find out, was quite happy with the new nickname. 

You weren’t sure where he came from, what he is, or what manifested himself to you that night, but you’re thankful for the company. 

Umbra was quiet. He never spoke, but damn is he funny. Every night, he meets you in your room practically bouncing off the walls, or more so sliding everywhere in a mist of shadows and patiently listens when you talk about your day. 

Every morning you wake up with new little flowers over your unoccupied pillow. Each of them a bundle of red, for some reason. But lovely all the same. 

It became a nightly routine to where he’ll lull you to sleep with gentle caresses and soft old-timey music. 

And it’s given you the best sleep of your life. 

Alastor however, has been more distant than before. When asking for new lists everyday, he’ll stare down at you through lowered eyelids and hand you a list bigger than the last. 

He never questioned your flowers comment, but you’re sure he hasn’t forgotten. 

Though, through his aloof attitude, he still invades your personal space when talking to you - and he only talks to you when it’s absolutely needed. His stare burns new holes through you everyday before he locks himself up in his radio tower until dinner or Charlie's group exercises. 

“Smiles has been such a fucking jerk lately, what did you do to’m?” Angel slumps over the armchair, preoccupied with texting. 

“Me? He hardly talks to me! Everyday he’ll just hand me a list to do and disappears.”

“That’s exactly the problem, ever since he’s offered you a job here he’s been acting like there's a stick up his ass more than normal. You must being doin’ shit at your job.” He nudges you and you both laugh. 

“Yeah, no idea. I try to talk to him. He’s the one person in this whole place I don’t even know about… but he ignores me.”

“I don’t think he completely ignores you, doll face. Do you notice how you’re the only thing he can look at when you’re around? Hard to get him to help Charlie lately, too.”

You blush and drag your gaze to the floor. “No, I didn’t notice that. What’s his deal anyways?” 

Angel went into detail about how Alastor wa/is one of the most powerful overlords in the Pride ring. 7 years ago he disappeared or some shit but 7 months ago he came back and randomly ended up here. Some bullshit about wanting to help Charlie with her ridiculous delusions about saving a sinner. He’s just here for the ‘entertainment’, but he’s been a big help honestly. Especially in his battle during the extermination - before he got wounded. 

Wounded? He could get hurt? A powerful overlord who has thousands of contracted souls could get… hurt? But there airs another question…

He doesn’t believe in redemption? 

Your thoughts were cut short by a shadow carrying a mischievous grin lurking in the hallway. Umbra swirls in a mist of shadows as his eyes glow green and gestures for you to follow him. 

Raising from the couch you head his way. 

“Maybe he just needs some good head!” Angel calls out to you.

You follow Umbra as he slithers over the carpet, manifests himself over the walls and guides you upstairs. His cute grin makes you laugh, and you're excited to see what he has in store for you today. 

Not noticing that you pass your own room, your eyes only watching Umbra flee with excitement, he leads you to a door at the end of a hallway. He turns to you, looking you once over and dissipates through the door. 

Knowing you want him to follow, and without a second thought, your hand turns the knob and you fly inside Alastor’s radio room. 

There, hunched over his desk wearing only his long sleeve undershirt and pants, Alastor’s back is turned to you. 

“Who the fuck,” Alastor’s head turns over his shoulder, black eyes blown wide as his red pupils snap to you. 

“Alastor- shit, I’m,” you back away, accidentally shutting the door behind you. 

“Has anyone taught you proper manners? Don’t you know that walking in on someone is-” Every word cuts through you like a knife, the static in his voice grows louder in every syllable. The lights flicker around you as Alastor’s body grows larger in scale, his antlers growing wide. 

“I didn’t know!” You yell honestly, you didn't know. Or, you weren’t paying attention. 

“The door was locked, how did you get in here?” Red liquid oozes out of his mouth as his empty black eyes stare you down. But you’re not looking at the anger on his face, or the way his body engulfs the room. No, you're looking at how his arm covers a wound on his side. Your eyes scan to the side, where ointments and bandages lay askew over his desk. 

“You’re hurt, Alastor.” 

The radio demon stops, and for a moment, you catch surprise painted in his features. 

“Let me help?” You offer, taking a step forward. 

He doesn’t move. 

“Get out.” 

You step forward, unafraid of his form. He's hurt, and you can see the blood squelching against his hand, dripping to the floor. 

You reach out, covering your hand over his bloodied one and your eyes flicker upwards to the beast before you. 

A silent plea to let him help. If he’s been doing this on his own since the extermination, he hasn’t been doing a great job at mending it. 

He gives a frustrated sigh, and shrinks back down to his normal self. Internally rolling your eyes at how easy that was to do… an all powerful overlord listening to you was a confidence booster to say the least. 

You look down to assess the wound. His red undershirt wet and stained with blood on the right side of his torso. 

You flash him a look for silent permission, and he nods ever so slightly, his eyes fixated on your face. You begin to unbutton his shirt from the top down. You scan your fingers delicately over his chest and down towards the wound. Alastor lets out a shaky sigh that goes unnoticed by you. 

You expose his torso more by opening up his shirt to get a better look. Alastor leans back in his chair and curves his hips upwards ever so faintly. You swallow, fighting the demons in your head to take a closer look at his exposed body. 

“Looks… bad.” You manage to say, focusing only on the wound before gentle fingers slide under your chin and angle your face upwards so he can see you fully. 

And you swear, that for a moment, something swirls deep within his gaze. Something more than he lets on. A flash of hope? Eagerness?

Now’s not the time.

You clear your throat before grabbing supplies and getting to work. 

Alastor was silent as you mended him. His eyes never left your face as you cleaned the wound and bandaged it neatly. 

“All better!” You chime, doing your best to ignore the buzz on your chin from his touch, “Next time you try to do this yourself, try to find me? I don’t think it’s healed right for at least a couple weeks. You’re lucky it hasn’t gotten infected.” 

“We’re in hell, dear, I’m sure there’s worse things to worry about than an infected wound.”

He didn’t even bother to say thank you. 

Is this the sophisticated and well-mannered demon Charlie raved about? The helpful demon that made this hotel?

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’ve been holding and your shoulders shrug downward. 

“Is there a reason why you’ve been so avoidant since I arrived? Everyone has been talking about how you’ve been acting differently since I showed up. Why is that? Did I do anything to you?” You avoid his eye contact by putting away the medical supplies inside a metal box. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. I’ve always been the same.” He leans back in his chair. 

Something doesn’t add up. 

“Everyone talks about how you’re this powerful overlord, yet you lock yourself up in this tower all day and night. They all talk about how you were always around and ever since me you’re nowhere to be found.”

“I’d watch your mouth, little doe.” He snarls, but doesn’t move from his chair.

You stand, and for once you’re just taller than him even when he’s sitting down. Stories you’ve heard, the things the other residents say about him - nothing is adding up. Angel even went out of his way to ask what the fuck you did to him to act like this. 

“I can’t help but think that you’re trying to avoid me. Are you scared of me or something? Or do you just like to see me do all of your bitch work so you don’t have to look at me?” 

“And why,” Alastor stands, towering over you. You never realized how much taller and broader he is compared to you. His entire frame engulfs your size. “Would I be scared of a pathetic, weak sinner who died so easily doing something so reckless and ended up here?”

A beat, “I’d go far as to say you’re forgettable in this cesspool. Why would I go out of my way to avoid that?” He hums, lowering to your level at the waist. You want to punch that smug smile on his face. 

You ball your fists and keep his eye contact. You scrunch up your nose and grind out every word with anger, “That’s hilarious coming from someone who did the same. Not so different, you and I.”

You didn’t care enough to see his expression before turning on your heel and head straight to your room.

Sinking onto your bed, you throw your head between your hands with a groan. 

Asshole. Fucking asshole. 

It doesn't take long before a presence in front of you lingers, and a warm caress slithers over your cheek. 

“Not now, Umrba. I’m not in the mood.” 

Umbra’s smokey hand tugs gently at your arm, pulling it forward and causing your head to droop. You allow him to pull you up and into an embrace. 

Scents of whiskey, soap and lemongrass once again fill your head. A lovely haze that you’ve come to cherish. A friend. 

A comfort. 

A beautiful melody fills the air, and swallows you whole. Umbra’s body shakes with a staticy old tune. 

“I’ll never smile again, until I smile at you”  The voices sing a beautiful sorrowful melody, filling the air. Umbra’s arms skate over you and places his hands in yours. 

The stance of a dance. 

Umbra guides your one arm over his back, there he rests the other around your waist. A close embrace that you happily welcome.

“For tears would fill my eyes, my heart would realize…” 

Guiding your hips in a gentle sway, you rest your cheek on his torso. The both of you sway to the melody slowly in your dimly lit room. 

And, like always, the shadow doesn’t say a word. And maybe you like it that way. With all the chaos pounding loudly in your head, Umbra can always grant you the safe space you need. No judgment, no games. 

No words. 

Umbra pulls you around in a dizzying spin on your toes, earning a giggle from you. The music crescendos softly.

“I’ll never love again, I’m so in love with you…”

Guiding you around your room, you follow his lead. Wisps of smoke trail after him and curl at the bottom of your feet. Warmth is all you can feel. 

You’re picked up swiftly and spun like a child before being placed softly in your bed. Umbra continues to play the melody until you are cast away in blissful sleep. 

“Within my heart, I know I will never start to smile again, until I smile at you.”

taglist : @hazbinsimp777 @rapturenyx @kaytemchugh

[lady-raziel]

Cna i... Can I ask what the beef is with M Night Shyamalan?

fair warning, this is a self-indulgently long post. but if you endure the page break, you may find the story entertaining.

a long time ago...in a small indie comic book shop in downtown Philadelphia...

picture this. it's circa 2016. my hyperfixation at the time is DC Comics-- the Flash specifically. I like the Flash, but I really like his nemesis, the Reverse Flash. This guy's gimmick is that he has the same powers as the Flash, but he's also evil because he used to be a Flash stan and his idol didn't validate their parasocial relationship when they actually met in person, and now he just wants to kill the Flash instead. It's a long story. Reverse Flash has died many times. He's also from the future, but that's not the important bit right now.

Anyway, despite being one of the Flash's main enemies, there are not that many comic book issues that feature the Reverse Flash for some reason. My main hobby at the time of this whole ordeal is to go to the local comic book shops and search through the bins of back issues to find anything with the Reverse Flash in it (bonus points if he's on the cover, but at a certain point you can't be picky). I'd been fairly successful at this, and had even been able to avoid buying too much off Ebay as I really didn't care too much about the condition or grade of the comics. The comic book shop in downtown Philly I was in on the day of the Incident was one I'd been to before, but not in a while as I went to school out in the suburbs and didn't leave that general area too much.

So. I enter this shop, and it's not too busy. That's a good thing as it's not a large space and if there were too many people it would have been very difficult to navigate around the displays of Funko Pops and tables of back issues. However, as I was soon about to find out, it doesn't matter if there's only one other person shopping at the same time as you if that person is the wrong person.

I make my way to the back where all the big boxes of old comics are, and scan the rows alphabetically to find the 'Fs.' I see 'Firestorm,' and 'Fantastic Four,' and all the others...but there, right there, where the Flash comics should be...there's a guy. Standing there. In the way.

Now, that's alright. He just seemed to be perusing randomly and wasn't actually looking at the Flash comics specifically (my Flash comics), and I can just go look at the action figures or something until he moves to another section of the shop. No problem. I mean, it's one box of comics, Harold. How long does it take to look through it? 5 minutes? No, all I have to do is wait a little bit and then I can examine those 1980s Flash comics with my own grubby little paws.

So I do a loop of the store. I examine the Funko Pops (they all look the same), the t-shirts (only Hot Topic quality), the new comics (Superman #1? How many times are they going to reboot this thing?), and even the super expensive vintage comics up on the wall (no Reverse Flash here, and it would still be beyond my price point anyway). But when I finally make my way back to the back issues, the guy...is still there. He hasn't moved. And now he's not even pretending to look at the comics anymore.

Now, to my horror, he seems to be having a full-on conversation with one of the store employees right on top of my box of comics, and neither of them seem like they plan to end this discussion anytime soon. You may be asking at this point, "well Raz, if you wanted to look at the comics where they were standing, why didn't you just ask them to move out of the way?" You're right. I could have done that.

But problem. I have social anxiety. And sometimes it gets very bad about very small things. So while it would have been entirely reasonable to ask these two men to move their conversation elsewhere, the crippling social anxiety made it so that asking for that very small and reasonable thing would have been akin to asking these guys if they would set me on fire right here right now, please and thank you. It wasn't gonna happen. My only option was to hover uncomfortably 6 feet away, pretending to go through the back issues systematically and hope they picked up on what I was doing and moved out of the way when I got back to the 'Fs,' or give up and suffer an hour and a half on the SEPTA train back home with nothing to show for it.

now, i've never had a conversation with famous filmmaker and director M Night Shyamalan. I didn't even know what he looked like at the time, so when all this happened I thought he was just Some Guy who in his unawareness was keeping me from completing my mission. Maybe he's a really engaging conversationalist and talking with him causes you to not notice anything going on around you. That may even be the case-- as neither the Twistmaster himself or the besotted store employee seemed to notice I was there. But I WAS there. And my frantic silent social cues were being "returned to sender," unread.

Meanwhile I was enduring a level of internal turmoil on the level of a character in a Greek tragedy. This was my crucible. Surrender, or do something I was honor-bound not to do. Was this the meaning of an impossible choice?

It was only after almost 15 long, agonizing minutes and two more laps of the store on my part that finally, finally there was a breakthrough. Unaware Man (for this would be Shyamalan's superhero code name) and Employee-Bro had moved to the cash register, as the former had found something he wanted to buy. With speed rivaling the Flash himself, I descended on the fated box of comics like a plague. It seemed that the day had not been lost after all.

However, like any film from the man himself, there was to be a final twist to this tale. One last turn of the knife. You might be thinking-- "And it turned out that there weren't any comics in the box you wanted to buy after all, rendering this whole ordeal meaningless, right? Like any tragic hero you endured the terrible trials only to discover that the treasure you sought was a hollow fantasy of your own creation, and this all could have been avoided if you had not fallen prey to the follies of man?"

No. The problem was-- I did find several comics in that box that I wanted to buy. I even found one with the Reverse Flash on the cover. But now that I had found my prize, I faced a new, even greater challenge, which was somewhat an extension of the old challenge, but to the extreme.

I now had to get Employee-Bro to ring me up so I could leave this cursed place, but here's the kicker: I had to do this while he was still utterly engaged in discussion with Unaware Man and thus blind to the outside world. I had come out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now it wasn't like I could just go home and take only a feeling of defeat with me. My precious comic book finds were on the line, and what was I going to do? Just put them back in the box and leave?

Unfortunately, I was committed. I would have to stand reasonably out of the way of Unaware Man's personal space yet close enough to indicate that I was, yes, in line to check out my purchases. And goddamnit, I was going to do this until all of us died of old age or the world ended.

I kind of lost all sense of time at that point. It could have been only a few minutes. It could have been five hours. All I know is that it was long enough that I wished for the sweet release of death, because then at least I'd be able to lie down. How it eventually went down was that Employee-Bro rung up Unaware Man (because really, processing a credit card transaction and signing the receipt only can take so long), and the two continued to talk as Employee-Bro gradually gained awareness that I Was There Too, and multitasked to check out my items while remaining totally focused on his other conversation and not speaking a word to me.

And that was it. I was free, from the physical prison of the comic book store at least. But again, like a Shyamalan film, this was in reality only the end of the second act. Because as I walked through the streets of Center City Philadelphia and rested my head against the smudged window of the SEPTA train on the way home, I started to descend into the mental turmoil of the question, "wait, who was that guy? Was he like...famous, or something?"

If you've ever been to a comic con or spent enough time in a hobby shop, you know that sometimes Nerd Bros can get really deep into conversation about these sorts of things. Many of them even have lots of opinions on films, and will be happy to share them in detail unprompted. So it wasn't entirely unreasonable for me not to realize in the moment that what was happening wasn't just "Nerd Bros Being Dudes."

But the more I thought about it, the one-sided adoring dynamic between Employee Bro and Unaware Man did seem unusual. And in the bits of their conversation that I had been forced to endure, hadn't one of them mentioned something about...filming locations? What was that about? Nobody in their right mind films stuff in Philly unless they're making the 86th Rocky film or the like.

It was a Google search of "movies filming in Philadelphia" that returned several results of articles talking about how location scouting was going on in the area as part of the production of a long-awaited sequel to the 2000 film Unbreakable, a undercover superhero sleeper hit. Unbreakable, a film set in Philadelphia, written and directed by famous filmmaker M Night Shyamalan.

Shyamalan. SHYAMALAN. the man responsible for 2010's The Last Airbender. it was HIM. he was not only the man who originated the (still unbroken!) curse on the Avatar franchise, but also the man who had ruined my day. Thoughtlessly. Carelessly. Not by massacring a beloved children's television franchise, but by being unaware. Inconceivable.

This was horrific. It wasn't even like I was the Reverse Flash or any other famous superhero nemesis, who had a compelling backstory causing their undying hatred of the hero. Instead, I now had a narrative foil who barely even fit that description, because chances are he hadn't even taken notice of my existence the whole time! This was my supervillain origin story, and it was his normal day!

It was at this moment I swore an oath. I would not forget this terrible day of inconvenience that was partially caused by my own social failings. I would dedicate my life from this point forward to slightly narrowing my eyes and shaking my head disapprovingly when I saw mentions of Shyamalan or his works online. I would color any opinions I had of his films with the thought, "but remember that one time he was kind of a dick to you without even meaning it? what was up with that?"

and that is the tale of my tragic encounter with M Night Shyamalan. To this day, my only solace is that my epic origin story turned out more narratively coherent and with deeper substance than any other film made in the Unbreakable saga, including the one he was location scouting for at the time this happened. Shyamalan can write twists all he wants, but no one is better at that game than karma itself.

-END-

[starrystormwritings]

Red Wine

Red Wine

Master List <3 Request List <3 Marauders Master List <3

Remus Lupin x Reader

A/n: I lowkey hate this but it was inspired by the image of Sirius Black loving tequila and me thinking that all the muggle born students watching the others get drunk without it touching them was hilarious. This is based in their 7th year.

Summary: Muggle drinks and muggle drinking games.

Warnings: Drinking, mentions of underaged drinking, swearing, kissing, jealousy, fake ID

Word Count: 2232

(NOT MY GIF)

"Psst! Y/n! Over here!"

I spun my head around to see Christopher Adam's waving me over from the corner of the room, pointing enthusiastically at the plastic bag in his hands.

I smiled back at him and nodded enthusiastically.

"I'll be back now." I said to Sirius, who was spinning me around to the ABBA song playing before Chris had interrupted us.

"What does he want?" He asked with a quirked eyebrow "You got a new boyfriend or something?" He laughed slightly as I rolled my eyes and just walked away from him.

Me and some of the other muggle born students were starting to find these Gryffindor parties boring after the summer.

After partying at home with muggle drinks the classic fire whisky and witches brew just wasn't doing anything for us anymore, as funny as it was watching the pure and half bloods get extremely drunk so fast there's only so many parties you can do sober.

Hence Christopher.

A small group of us had gathered our money together and convinced Chris to use one of his approved trips to visit home to stop by a muggle store and complete a shopping list.

It took us a week to make him a fake ID good enough for him to pass as eighteen.

"So? How'd it go?" I asked, smiling brightly at him as I took the bag out of his hands.

"No hassle with the ID, although I did have to go to four stores so I didn't look suspicious buying this much alcohol for everyone." He rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"You're a lifesaver, we all owe you big time. Thank you!"

He just waved me off and I happily ran back over to the boys with the bag in my arms.

They were all giving the an identical look of speculation as I approached.

"What have you done?" James asked, trying to grab the bag off me before I pulled back.

"Why do you assume such little from me! I've gotten you all presents. Muggle presents actually."

Sirius perked up at that, excitedly shaking Remus's shoulders. Causing him to lean the other way with a smile.

"I'm about to show you all how muggles drink, because fire whisky is nothing in comparison. I've got fuck loads of things to share but I tried to get each of you something I thought you'd like."

"So it's alcohol?" Peter asked, now it was him having to push an excited Sirius away.

"Yep! For you Peter, gin. We don't have any tonic so drink it with lemonade, I think you'll like it though." He smiled widely as I handed him the rounded bottle, quickly opening it to smell it.

"It smells nice?"

"Yeah not all alcohol needs to smell like straight ass." I laughed nodding to the fire whisky in his other hand.

"James I've got you some muggle beers. I genuinely think this will change your life." I said with a laugh, handing him over the six pack as he looked at it bewildered.

"Like butter beer?"

"Kinda? Just a lot less sweet."

He nodded with a smile and popped the top of the bottle off, his smile growing as he tasted it.

"This is alcoholic?"

I laughed at him and turned to Sirius who looked like he was about to explode if I didn't show him what else was in the bag.

"Sirius I got you some tequila. There's some lime and salt on the table over there, you'll want them to take a shot. Lily will show you, she's been looking forward to it all night."

He took the bottle off me with a smirk before quickly hugging me from behind, placing an exaggerated kiss on the side of my face before running off.

"Thank you!"

I laughed at him, and watched James follow after him after a mention of Lily, Peter as always followed behind James.

"I hope you got yourself something, you're way too generous."

Remus said, sitting up on the table next to me with a soft smile.

"Oh don't worry I did." I reached to pull the large bottle from the bag "Some good old fashioned vodka for me."

He laughed at me and sniffed the bottle I held out in front of him, recoiling back.

"It smells horrible." He said with a laugh.

"That's how you know it's strong." I replied, coughing hard as I took a sip from the bottle. "I should probably mix it with some coke."

He laughed at me for a minute, nodding "Yeah, probably a good idea. I'll go get you some."

I placed an arm in front of him as he went to move to stop him.

"Not so quick Lupin, didn't think I'd forget you did I?"

"You didn't have to get me anything." A small blush covered his cheeks, reassuring me that I made the right call with getting him something.

"That's why you're my favourite."

"Wow I always thought Sirius was your favourite." He replied with a chuckle.

"Yeah well don't tell him, it would crush him."

He continued to laugh as I pulled the bottle of red wine out of my bag, passing it over to him.

"I think you'll like it, not as strong as the others but you'll enjoy it."

He looked over the bottle inquisitively.

"Thank you, I'll go pour myself a glass and grab you that coke." He smiled warmly at me, squeezing my knee as he got up.

My eyes followed him across the room, I smiled as I watched him interact with an already drunk Sirius who was shouting about the impressive feat of muggle alcohol.

"You're drooling." Mary said from behind me, causing me to jump and hit her in the arm.

"Shut up."

~~~~~

"So you've all been enjoying the muggle drinks, how about a muggle game to go with it!" Marls shouted from the middle of the room, clearly drunk.

A large group slowly made their way into a circle on the floor as Marls enthusiastically went around the room trying to gather a large enough group.

Remus groaned as I pulled him off the wall he was leaning on and led him towards the floor, an obvious smile on his face.

"Ok so you spin the bottle." She giggled while placing one of James's now empty beer bottles into the middle of the group. "You and whoever it lands on go into the broom cupboard for seven minutes. What happens is there is up to you." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively whilst laughing as the game began.

As the circle slowly made its way around I found myself hunched over onto Remus in a fit of laughter at Sirius and Peters faces as they came out of the cupboard looking very unamused.

As the group calmed down Sirius took his seat back next to me in the circle and most eyes moved towards me.

I giggled awkwardly before leaning forward and spinning the bottle as hard as I could.

As I lent back and watched it spin I silently prayed that it would land on the boy sat next to me who seemed to be avoiding my eye contact as everyone made a drum roll sound around us.

Much to my dismay instead of landing on Remus the bottle instead pointed towards the one and only James Potter whose face went bright red.

I laughed softly and stood up, watching him as he followed. The room whistling as we made our way into the small space.

If it wasn't gonna land on Remus James would've probably been my second choice, he was to in love with Lily to ever make a move on someone else. And I felt the same way about our best friend.

"So this isn't awkward." I joked with a smile.

He just half way laughed in response.

"Everything okay?" I asked, my eyes adjusting in the dark to make out his figure.

"Yeah it's stupid, Lily's just been avoiding me all night. I know I make a fool of myself for her but sometimes I just wish that she would just look at me." He sighed, leaning against the wall.

"Maybe she is and you're just not seeing?"

"Trust me, I'd see." He sadly laughed and I patted his shoulder comfortingly before getting an idea.

"I've got a way that would get her to look at you."

He turned to look at me with what I guessed was a confused expression.

I reached up to unbutton the first two buttons of his shirt.

"Whoa Y/n what are you doing?"

I laughed slighting at him, shaking my head.

"No I'm not doing that, trust me."

I reached up to ruffle my hand through his hair to make it messier, then moving to untuck one side of his shirt.

"Yeah she'll look at me if I look like shit. Is that the plan?" He laughed slightly and I softly hit him with the back of my hand.

I messed my own hair up as well, also shifting my clothes so they were slightly askew.

"Jealousy is the plan James."

It seemed to click with him then and despite the dark I could see the red blush on his face.

"You really think that'll work?"

"I hate to say it but if one thing will make her notice you, it's thinking that you might've noticed someone else. I'm also really drunk so this might be a bad plan."

He laughed at me, covering his mouth to try and stay quieter.

"I'm drunk enough to give it a go." He responded with a smile.

"Last touch." I reached up to move his glasses to sit crooked on his face with a laugh.

"There, perfect. Let's get you your lady."

As I spoke there was a knock at the door, and a second later Sirius Black swung them open.

"Merlin! Didn't see that happening." He said with a laugh, looking between us in disbelief "I always thought you were into Moony Y/n."

James punched him softly in the arm, shaking his head and I just walked past silently, trying to shake the blush off of my face and hoping everyone was just ignoring the obviously drunk pure blood.

I made my way back over to the circle but before I could sit back down Remus had already stood from his spot next to me and walked out of the common room with his bottle of wine.

~~~~~

I'd been wandering the castle grounds looking for Remus for the last thirty minutes.

The party had died down and everyone was so drunk most of them had passed out by now.

I was buzzed enough that the cold wasn't bothering me but I couldn't for the life of me figure out where Remus would've gone.

I sat on the floor against the railing as I finally got to the top of the astronomy tower, the vodka and the amount of stairs I just climbed had knocked the wind out of me.

"Y/n?"

A familiar voice said from next to me, making me jump.

"Jesus, I've been looking for you." I smiled at him but he only held my eye contact for a second before looking back out to the night sky.

"You disappeared, it got boring without you."

He laughed slightly and shook his head, his cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I'm sure it was fine without me. You and James sure didn't look bored." He chuckled awkwardly making me quirk an eyebrow at him.

"What? Me and James?"

He just nodded, avoiding my eyes.

"James definitely isn't bored, Lily's been all over him all night." I laughed softly and he just looked at me inquisitively.

"Aren't you upset by that?"

"Upset? Why would I be upset? Honestly I think it's a miracle."

He laughed slightly at that and finally looked back over to me.

"But you and James were snogging each other? Was that just a joke or something?"

I just looked at him confused for a second before breaking out into giggles.

"Oh you didn't actually think we did that? Gross no! I just thought that it would make Lily jealous. It worked by the way."

He seemed to think for a second before a small smile finally made its way onto his face.

"Oh, so you didn't actually kiss him?"

I snorted, covering my face quickly in embarrassment.

"No no, I just messed up his hair and unbuttoned his shirt a little. He's not my type."

Remus laughed quietly at that, relaxing a little.

"Good."

I nudged him lightly with my elbow, sliding over to sit next to him, bumping our knees together.

"Careful Lupin it almost feels like you're jealous."

He just looked at me for a second, a little smile on his face as he moved to stand up, offering me his hand.

"Maybe I was." He chuckled softly and pulled me to my feet as I just looked at him dazed.

"C'mon I'll walk you back to your dorm." He threaded our fingers together and went to walk but I didn't move.

"I wanted the bottle to land on you, for the record."

We both stood there for a second, just looking at each other before he grabbed my chin softly and lent down.

I never really liked the taste of red wine until that night.

[lace-coffin]

Hello! Awesome to see you're taking requests again. Could I please request Cnc headcanons for asa please and thank you? 💖

Asa Emory CNC headcanons!

Thanks for the request! It’s specified in the fic but I just want to re-iterate that everything is consensual and part of a scene! Also I love Asa and need to bite his tummy : 3

Reader is gender neutral!

Trigger warnings for consensual non consent, medical play, pet play, kidnapping, human pets, bondage and degradation.

Requests are open!

Scenes are always discussed and prepared beforehand, making sure both of you go over what kind of kinks it will include, what kind of setting it will be in, the toys and equipment needed and a refresher on the safe word/traffic light system. Asa may be sadistic sometimes but he would hate to actually make you feel unsafe or feel out of control and unable to call it off.

Scenes can be a range of things, the possibilities are pretty endless when you own a huge hotel with seemingly endless rooms. The woods out the back of the hotel are also an option! Perfect for ominous misty nights where you want to be stalked like prey. You may even end up with unused rooms converted solely for this purpose if you find yourself going back to that kind of scene on the regular.

You absolutely have a room dedicated to medical play, various pieces of sterilised medical equipment sits in the drawers, stethoscopes, black nitrile gloves, speculums and a nice big examination bed with conveniently placed cuffs.

Why don’t you come take a seat and let the doctor check you out? He’ll be gentle, promise. See? It’s ok, just let him check over your chest, have to check your heart is working ok, don’t we? Just try ignore the way he prods and gropes at your chest, fingers running across your nipples in the process, it’s all part of the procedure.

Squirming will land you a harsh slap on the thigh, as will trying to close your legs, why can’t you just let him work? There’s nothing wrong about the way his cool gloved hands slowly creep higher and higher towards your core, teasing the edge of your underwear. If you can’t sit still and be good he’ll be forced to cuff your ankles to the table, rendering you defenceless as he slips his lubed fingers into your cute little hole. seeing you struggle and cry only makes him harder. What are you going to do, report him to the board? They would never believe you. It’s what little sluts like you deserve. Now be good and don’t make a scene as he fucks you into the medical bed, we wouldn’t want to alert any patients outside.

Kidnapping scenarios are always fun between you two, reliving the moment you were captured but with a more exciting twist. A bigger box would be made for you, as much satisfaction as he gets from manhandling you into position and crumpling you into the box he wouldn’t want to actually hurt you or let any of your limbs go numb from lack of space. If you’re really keen to be bound tighter then you can add bondage to the mix inside the box. Asa will routinely verbally check in to make sure you’re not cramping or need a break. One knock for no, two for need a break and three for safewording.

The drive to your new home is quiet on your end, drool from the cloth gag spilling onto your chin. You can faintly hear the radio over the rumble of the engine and occasional bumps in the road. Panicked hands are pulled taught behind you as you’re marched into the hotel, there’s no point in fighting, he’ll drag you in by your hair if he has to. Don’t worry about the barley human specimens grabbing at the cage as you pass, he would never do that to you, no, you’re to precious too him. You’ll be staying by his side whether you like it or not, freedom is a privilege.

This little mattress and collar connected to the wall beside his bed is all yours! Perfect for him to watch over you at all times. It’s also perfect for him to force his cock into you whenever he wants, keeping you underdressed and easy to access. You can scream all you want, bite the pillows for all he cares. No one is going to hear or be able to help you. Asa’s going to keep you all open and pliant at all times, toys buried in your holes to keep you nice and ready for him whenever he decides to fuck you face down into the mattress. It would be alot easier if you stop trying to break out of his hold. You’re just a set of holes, may aswell learn your place and take what he gives you, it’s all you’re good for after all. Or does he need to drug you?

Petplay is a favourite for both of you, the scenes can be intense even if non sexual in nature, just being kept as an unwilling human pet that’s nothing more than an animal to him, so either way it can be enjoyable.

Does puppy want to be let out of its cage? Why would you want that? You have blankets, a water and food bowl, chew toys. Everything a little mutt like you could ever need. Maybe if you wiggle your little silicon doggie tail plugged ass for him convincingly enough he’ll think about it.

You’re learning to do tricks just like every good pet should, how long can you take your masters cock down your throat before you choke? Not good enough, you’re doing this again until Asa’s satisfied with your progress. Keep your hands to yourself unless you want to be punished, scratch at his thighs for a breath and he’ll only fuck your face harder and longer, drinking in your distressed tears.

aww you want to breathe? Your master decides when you’re allowed to pop off of his hard cock, choking down a desperate breath. Maybe if your a good mutt he’ll let you hump his boot to get yourself off, after all, he would never touch a filthy desperate animal like you.

Aftercare is incredibly important and cannot be skipped. After the scene is over Asa will tell you how good you’ve been, gently untying you from any binds and carrying you to your shared bed. He’s more than happy to cuddle and pet you whilst you float in Subspace for a while longer. Easy to eat snacks will be prepared and fed to you, bottled water or juice sweetly lifted to your lips, helping you take small manageable sips. Once you’re feeling more present Asa will reassure you about the scene, letting you know he doesn’t actually think those things about you and how much he cherishes you.

Showering comes later, running you a warm bath complete with bubbles and oils, washing away the days activities and leaving you warm and supple. Comfy pyjamas are a must, Asa helps you into them before marching your ass straight back to bed, ready to take a well deserved nap.

[tired-xyra-urstruly]

𓆩⟡𓆪𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎!?𓆩⟡𓆪

Yan!Reader x Yan!Dazai

One-Shot Fiction

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────

Summary: You had a dream he was cheating on you! But was it true?

Dazai, he is a former port mafia executive. Dazai, he is a current armed detective agency member. Dazai who hates pain, hates dogs, and especially hates his former partner in the mafia, Chuuya Nakahara. Dazai, who likes crabs, likes the idea of suicide, and likes alcohol. Dazai who was your boyfriend. Yours only. He was the only thing on your mind. Every single corner, every single thought, anything, would be connected to him someway and somehow.

✧. ┊Want to continue?

Dazai, he is a former port mafia executive. Dazai, he is a current armed detective agency member. Dazai who hates pain, hates dogs, and especially hates his former partner in the mafia, Chuuya Nakahara. Dazai, who likes crabs, likes the idea of suicide, and likes alcohol. Dazai who was your boyfriend. Yours only. He was the only thing on your mind. Every single corner, every single thought, anything, would be connected to him someway and somehow.

Ever since the day you both first met, you knew he was the one for you. You wanted him. No. You NEEDED him. So, you started collecting his belongings, it started with a document he just tossed away, then strands of his hair, chewed gum, and anything else you could get your hands on. You hid a wiretap on his clothes once, he found it cute and amusing because he hid a wiretap on you too. Did you know he hid one on you? No.

It's currently 10 in the evening, stars sparkled outside in the ink dark sky. You, as per usual, are on your bed chatting with your boyfriend through *insert any social media app*. It got your heart pounding faster and faster whenever he replied within seconds to your message. Notification after notification, you couldn't get your eyes off the screen. On the other side of the screen was Dazai, watching you through a camera he hid in your house. Pictures of you were plastered all over his room walls, and aside from that. Mostly nothing else could be found.

Your eyelids started to get heavy, you couldn't fight the feeling of drowsiness coming over you. Before you could pass out you decided to send one last message to Dazai. "I love you, Dazai. I love you so much that I want stab any woman who would try to talk to you." How endearing, this is why he loved you.

"I love you so much that I want to destroy any man who lays eyes on you." Was the last thing you read before dozing off.

"Impossible! I was taking pictures of you through your window!!!" He passed you his phone which was generosly unlocked for you. Quickly, you found the contacts app. You were the only one in his contacts. Good. That means he prioritized you over work. Next, you opened his gallery. It was you. You were the only thing in his gallery, and he wasn't lying. You scrolled through the pictures of you that he took through your window last night with a look of satisfaction. "That's actually... So sweet!!" You hugged him tightly clasping your arms around him full of affection and he did the same too. The other members of the Agency, who have been watching the whole thing were... Weirded out to say the least...

The doors of the Armed Detective Agency slammed to reveal a very furious and irritated figure, which was you. The Agency wasn't really surprised to see that you were the one at the door, you always did just to see Dazai. Your grip tightened around the knife in your hand as you advanced towards Dazais table. You drove the sharp object into the wood of the table forcibly which gained his attention. Dazai glances at the knife and then at you. "Oh, hey [Name]... What's wrong?" He asks.

"... I had a dream where you were cheating on me. Explain." You looked him dead in the eye.

"Whaaatttt?"

"Explain." You repeated. How could he? Especially in your dreams.

END

[charles-leclerc-official]

2024 China Grand Prix Race Analysis

Here is my full analysis of the 2024 Chinese Grand prix. I already covered the sprint in a separate post here.

The important thing to keep in mind about this weekend is that the Chinese track was a very unique surface. It caused a lot of unusual grip problems for many of the top teams. I think as a whole that this race saw some outlier results as far as car behavior goes.

Table of Contents Stake - Zhou - Valtteri Ferrari - Start - Charles: his race, vs Lando - Carlos - Data Analysis Mclaren - Lando - Oscar - Data Analysis Penalties - Logan - Kevin - Daniel - Lance VCARB Aston Martin Red Bull - Checo Final Thoughts

Stake

Zhou

I usually start these with Ferrari. However this is a special occasion. So we are starting the analysis by celebrating Zhou and his performance this weekend.

This was the first Chinese Grand Prix in Formula 1 history with a Chinese driver racing on track. Zhou Guanyu made history and considering the car he's in he gave a good performance for the home crowd. Between qualifying 10th in the sprint, making some pretty good overtakes during the race, and carrying his team after Valtteri's DNF it was a pretty good weekend all around.

It was so nice to see all of the home support for Zhou. He was given an honorary spot at parc fermé after the race, and I am so glad they did something special to highlight this moment for him and the country he is representing in F1.

Zhou driving this weekend really was the highlight. This was only ever going to happen once in F1. Glad I was here to see it.

Valtteri unfortunately suffered a power unit failure and had to retire from the race. No damage to the car. This did bring out the yellow flag and a VSC. And when the marshals were unable to roll the car off the track quickly enough it upgraded to a full safety car(don’t worry we will be coming back to this)

He was looking pretty good in the car until that point, actually getting close to the points. I think we might see Stake in the points this year if they ever get their pit stops under control.

Ferrari

Ferrari's race was probably the weakest for the team so far this season. It wasn't really a surprise though. The cooler temperatures and inconsistent track surface were not ideal for the SF24.

Charles started in P6 and finished P4, Carlos started P7 and finished P5.

I do consider this not to be indicative of any downward trend for Ferrari. It was pretty predictable and it did not reveal any issues in the SF-24 we weren't already aware of (tyre warming)

Ferrari did say that they sacrificed more in qualifying in favor of a better race setup. And I don't think this was necessarily a bad idea. It's impossible to say if a different setup might have put them higher and if they have been able to defend with that setup. Going for a more race focused setup and relying on the better tyre deg to be able to allow for overtaking is a pretty good plan, especially if they didn't think they could get much more out of qualifying.

This did mean that we got to see some proper overtakes in the SF-24 from Charles and that is something we just haven't seen a lot of this season so far. So seeing how it handles in that regard was good.

So the big question is, why did Ferrari suddenly end up behind a Mclaren when Ferrari have been easily beating them all season?

Well there are a few factors:

- Ferrari struggled this weekend with grip and failed to find the best balance in the car to maximize top speeds. They did sacrifice some downforce in favor of speed during the race but I don't think it was enough. It didn't do enough to help the top speeds and it sacrificed grip so we ended up a weird middle ground that didn't optimize either problem. This track surface really made it so hard to figure out the right direction for setup.

- Mclaren(Lando) were stronger than expected. Lando was really the one pulling performance out of that car.

I will point out some key areas on this in the data analysis section as well.

Race Start

The most notable thing about Ferrari’s race was the start, when Carlos compromised his and Charles’ start by attacking right into turn 1. This forced Charles to have to defend(something he should not have to do right off the race start from his own teammate who started behind) and this resulted in them both immediately losing a place to Russell. This was a place they both had to fight to make up.

Again, this kind of thing isn’t good when compromising the results for the whole team is the result.

Footage Analysis

Just so we are clear about who is responsible for the loss of placement I want to show the footage from this start. This is from Carlos' driver cam footage as it most clearly shows what happened.

Charles starts P6 with Carlos behind him in P7. George is behind them in P8.

Into turn 1 Charles has the inside line, very clearly. Carlos has the outside line into the turn, this is fine. Charles is also clearly ahead.

Carlos pushes inside more, putting pressure on Charles. Notice how much closer Carlos got and how much space he left on the outside(another vulnerability he left open)

Charles pushes Carlos back(to defend which he has to do if attacked especially into a crowded corner like that a the race start)

Charles then took full position in front of Carlos, and this allowed George to slip past both of them on the inside line.

Because Carlos forced Charles to defend George was able to take that inside line that Charles had and passed both of them, dropping Charles and Carlos down a place.

Charles cannot defend both the outside and inside line on his own. He defended against the car that put pressure on him first. His teammate should not be the main one he has to defend team track position against.

Carlos compromised Charles' ability to defend position against George(which is the priority, he's on a rival team that is more important than racing between teammates)

Again if he is attacked Charles has to defend, why would he give up the place to the teammate he was faster than? Nothing would have happened if Carlos hadn’t pulled this move. Charles would have kept George behind and they might have been able to overtake earlier in the race and gain one more position, because they lost a full position to George this early they had to take that back before they could make progress climbing further up the field.

Carlos

This was Carlos' weakest performance so far this year. He compromised the race start for himself and Ferrari causing them both to lose placement immediately. Then he was unable to overtake. The only real overtakes he's pulled off were on cars with seriously compromised brakes.

He struggled with grip and tyres more than Charles. They both had issues in this area but it was more noticeable in his performance.

Charles finished 10.36 seconds ahead of his teammate who was directly behind him in the final 13 laps this race. And that gap can be explained by the fact Carlos was stuck behind Fernando for more laps(as well as a pit stop), however once he got into clean air he did not make up any time at all, his pace didn’t gain on Charles at all with the clean air. A gap in pace that big between teammates is concerning(at least for Carlos) It may be due to his personal choice of setup, or tyre management, or grip in the track. Given that he had more issues with grip on this track I am thinking that was a factor. He lost most of his time on turns 1, 5, 7, 8, and 10.

Edit: also Carlos did pit under normal conditions while Charles pitted under the safety car, this saved Charles some time(aprox 7-8 seconds), however the main point stands that Carlos did not make any progress closing the gap between them.

Charles

Charles' overtakes climbing up the field really saved Ferrari's race. Starting off by losing a position he climbed up places pulling some really clean overtakes and also helping his teammate through.

It was great to see him doing some overtaking in this car, he hasn't been in the position to do much of that due to track position etc in previous races. SF-24 looked good on that front in his hands.

Charles mentioned the lack of speed on straights, and this is due to the fact he wasn't able to gain on Lando in those sections(when he should have) this is due to the less than optimal downforce balance Ferrari went with this weekend(again I don't this is anything terribly concerning, this was a hard track to get that right on)

Overall Charles ran a really good race, obviously not the results he wanted but he extremely optimistic about the upgrades and that they will address some of the current limitations of the SF-24.

Data Analysis

I want to compare Charles and Lando's pace to highlight where Mclaren had the edge on Ferrari in this race. Charles was the fastest Ferrari this weekend and Lando was the fastest Mclaren.

First here is a breakdown of the fastest lap both driver's set.

Lando's straight line speed was really a big factor in keeping him ahead. That plus the fact he was consistently strong in sector 2.

And here is a look at the overall race pace between the two.

Ignore the mess in the middle, that curve is just correcting a slope for the outlier laps due to yellow flag and safety car conditions. It's not important here.

Lando had the edge on Charles almost the entire race. Until the end on the old hards.

What is important is that Lando had the pace on the new hards. Charles didn’t have the time to catch Lando once he managed to gain the places. He probably would have without the yellow flags and if track placement was better. The point being that Ferrari’s pace was off this weekend but it wasn’t as bad as it looked on track, there were other factors at play.

I think this result was a combination of a sub-optimal setup for this track on Ferrari's part on top of the fact this wasn't Ferrari’s strongest track, and Mclaren getting things right for Lando. Also some fairly solid driving from Lando.

Now I want to compare Charles' and Carlos' fastest laps and pace. This was the biggest gap in performance we've seen so far this year between the two Ferraris. Some of that I will attribute to the fact this track was weird as far as track surface goes, but such a big difference between teammates like this means it wasn't just the car or the track surface. While both were not great with grip or setup this weekend one outperformed the other by a decent margin.

Here is a look at Charles' and Carlos' fastest laps.

Charles having better straight line speed consistently and putting in a strong sector three is what put him ahead of Carlos and kept him there for the entire race.

Now here is the full race pace.

Again remember to ignore the weird lines in the middle that is just the graphing tool not able to create a good slope for all the safety car laps.

But you can see that Charles' pace was better the entire race, on both the medium and the hard tyres.

I don't think there was a lot more to get out of this weekend for Ferrari. It's possible managing the pits a little differently would have gotten Charles up to third but with the yellow flag chaos It was really difficult to gauge in real time when the best time to pit was. I think the pit management was good. We can look back and go "oh we could have gained a place here" So I have no issues there.

Hopefully that clears up some questions about Ferrari's overall race and car performance this weekend.

Overall this was still decent points for the constructors’ and we saw some good racing from Charles. I do fully believe we will be seeing Ferrari come back stronger in Miami.

Mclaren

Why was Mclaren, specifically Lando, so strong this weekend?

Well it's unclear.

They have had the clear #3 car so far this season. So I think that it's a combination of this not being a strong track for Ferrari and some conditions that favored their car that put them ahead.

No one, not even Mclaren expected this so I really think it seems like it comes down to this track being better for them than expected and Lando specifically being tuned into the track. Like after practice Lando was not feeling confident(his words) and the team were also not making any promises. I don’t think they were sandbagging, I think this genuinely all came together for them. 

Now it’s clear that Lando would have finished P3 behind Checo if it were not for the luck/strategy(a little of both they timed that well, but also had to get lucky with Red Bull timing) with the pits. Red Bull lost track position to Lando when they pitted Checo and they were unable to take it back. If Red Bull had timed their stop better Lando would have been P3 because his pace was not going to catch Checo if he was ahead.

So the P2 is due to some good driving on Lando’s part and Red Bull giving up track position and failing to recover it.

Oscar struggled more on this track. However he wasn't far outside where we've seen him in other races and for Mclaren in general. So he wasn’t under-performing, Lando was over performing. I also want to note that Oscar was slightly damaged during the crash between Lance and Dani, Dani's front wing tapped the rear of his car and there may have been a small amount of damage, important to note as he may have been compromised on pace due to this.

Data Analysis

Comparison of Lando and Checo’s pace

The first half of the race isn’t as important, the graph is very odd in the middle due to all of the outlier laps caused by the yellow flags, so that is not important. What I want to point out is that Lando was on the same pace as Checo(or slightly better) for those first 6 laps after the race started again when all the yellow flags were done, but after that Checo was faster until the end of the race. Not enough to catch Lando, but enough that Lando would not have been able to pass him if he hadn’t had track position.

Now here is a quick look at Lando and Oscar's pace.

There isn't a ton to dissect here, Lando was faster the entire race, by a pretty big margin on the hards especially. Given that a lot of drivers this race had issues managing deg on the hards I think that second stint gap really came down to tyre management, an area where Oscar is still improving.

Here is a look at their fastest laps to really see where Lando was making those bigger gains and where Oscar was struggling.

One thing that I find interesting is that Oscar's fastest lap had a section of DRS, Lando's didn't and Lando was still a full second faster. Just a really solid lap from Lando all around. His strength in sector 2 is what really gave him an edge all race.

Overall this was Mclaren’s best finish, but their strongest weekend overall so far this season is still Australia(because both drivers had a strong finish not just one)

Penalties and Incidents

Welcome to the “everyone gets a penalty!” section of the analysis. This was a mess to unravel. After reviewing the footage and reading the stewards judgements as well as the driver and teams statements I have come to a lot of the same conclusions as the stewards. 

The middle of this race was a mess. One yellow flag had just ended before another had to be brought out again. 

There were two yellow flags this race, the first after Valtteri DNF'ed and the second due to multiple incidents right after the end of the first yellow flag. 

My biggest critique is that the VSC was deployed weirdly late. They seemed about 10 to 20 seconds off in calling for one, and that is concerning. A driver on the side of the track is at risk, so it’s important to make sure a race is slowed immediately.

Logan: overtook under safety car conditions after the VSC was enacted when Valtteri’s power unit failed. Nico was coming out of the pitlane as Logan was coming down the straight, Nico managed to barely exit in front of Logan, but Logan’s faster momentum into turn 1 put him ahead of Nico, and thus he overtook under a yellow flag. Time penalty and license points is an appropriate penalty. I have no idea why his team didn’t get him to slow down more. They said they missed Nico, which I really don't know how. Lack of track observation. This was a failure of the team as much as it was sloppy on Logan's part. I think he would have slowed more had the team actually noticed this sooner.

Kevin: Kevin made contact with Yuki going out of turn 6 right after the race restart. He broke late and made contact with Yuki’s rear wheel and this led to a tyre puncture. Yuki had to retire from the race. Kevin was clearly at fault here, he failed to brake when catching Yuki.

Daniel: Dani was penalized for overtaking under a yellow flag and a safety car. He did this deliberately because Nico took a place from him and he thought it was okay to take that spot back. However he should have waited for the race to resume under green light conditions before doing that. He knows better. What happened with Nico is a little murky as far as why he took a position and why he did not get penalized. I think it's because it was right before the safety car but the FIA reporting on that isn't clear.

Lance: At turn 14 Lance rear ended Daniel after the first safety car had ended they were waiting on Max to restart the race. Max was leading the race and setting the pace until proper racing speeds could resume. Lance is at fault here, it’s that simple. This was seriously negligent driving on his part. I really have no idea what he was doing but no competent driver does this. I will agree with Oscar in the sentiment that everyone was crowded together, only one person crashed into another car in that scenario. 

“Yes, but not everyone decided to crash into each other.” - Oscar 

Lance argued that it was the concertina effect, and said the stewards should account for that. This is a weak argument at best. The concertina effect is to describe car behavior on track, it isn’t an excuse. Going into a corner a driver who is supposedly one of the best in the world should know how to account for that effect. The fact is that he was going too fast into that corner and not paying attention to the car in front of him.  

Furthermore his lack of accountability and attempts to blame everyone but himself for the incident is not a good look. He is very clearly in the wrong here. I think that the penalty he received might be on the gentle side of things as well. Personally I would have liked to see a 20 second time penalty for that, or a grid penalty. 

I agree with Dani’s statement that Lance should have only been paying attention to the car in front of him. He clearly wasn’t doing that, or at least not well enough. He appears to be looking at Max and Oscar waiting for Max to restart the race. But that is not where he should have been looking. Additionally Dani pointed out that Lance’s speed there was too much, he put half his car under Dani, that’s not the concertina effect, that is going too fast. 

Dani of course is heated, and I feel that for him, he DNF'ed because of the carelessness of another driver through no real fault of his own. I don’t think continuing to argue is good on either side, but he has every right to be mad, especially when the offending driver refuses to admit his fault. Two DNFs in a row is hard for any driver. Lance really cost him a lot. 

This isn’t just sloppy driving on Lance’s part, it's outright negligent.

VCARB

Quick note about VCARB. Dani was on track for his best performance all year this weekend. Which makes the DNF all the more upsetting. Yuki struggled with this track all weekend, seems he was not feeling this track or that car. I will say his performance seems like an anomaly compared with the rest of his season so far so I don’t think it’s cause for concern for future races. 

VCARB as a team were obviously the worst off this weekend with both driver’s DNF'ing at no fault of their own.

Aston Martin

I already covered Lance, so I want to just quickly mention that Fernando was on fire this weekend. He was defending, and had that car in places it really had no business being. His recovery from the close spin, the defending, the overtakes. He really is just continuing to show his skill and experience, and he overall had one of the best drives of the entire race.

Red Bull

Max won the race, and it was a pretty clean race for him, which is amusing due to the utter chaos happening behind him. First time he has won at this track, so that is another track conquered by Max. Well done Max!

Sergio

Checo’s race wasn’t actually that bad. He was comfortably in P2 until Red Bull gave up track position and he wasn’t able to recover the place from Lando. I already compared the pace between those two. But I think it’s pretty clear that he would have been P2 were it not for the pits. If he has position he has the pace to keep the spot. However he does not have the same pace Max has in the RB20 to take lost positions back if the car ahead has similar pace. 

I also want to note here that there were a few corners where it was pointed out that Alpine and Williams were outperforming Ferrari on. However taking a look at the data it wasn’t just Ferrari. Pierre was literally faster than Max in that corner consistently. What this tells me is that something about the unusual grip of this track was not suited to any of the fastest cars. So it’s not a Ferrari problem, or a Red Bull problem, it’s just highlighting an unusual quirk of the track that no one really figured out this weekend.

Here is a fastest lap comparison of Pierre and Max. Obviously Max is the best driver in the best car, so I think this just highlights my point about certain corners especially turns 1, 2, and 3. There was something off there that gave the edge to some midfield cars are far as grip goes. All top cars struggled for speed on those turns and I think it was due to weird track surface conditions.

Final Thoughts

This was the most chaotic race of the season. Hopefully we have a penalty free race next time.

See you when I return with Miami GP analysis!