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gurugirl · 23 days

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The Babysitter | dad!harry x babysitter!reader

Based on this request (changed some things - hope you still like it anon!)

Summary: The cute babysitter Harry's wife hired has always tempted him, but now that his wife is away for the evening Harry might just give in.

Word Count: 2,011

Warning: smut, cheating, implied age gap (your call on how large), inappropriate relationship (both consenting adults)

|main masterlist|

. . .

Harry was so fucked.

He knew better. A married man on the brink of ruining it all just for a taste of his kid’s babysitter. Truly, outrageously fucked.

He arrived home that day, knowing he’d have the house to himself all night with his wife gone out of town for a work trip. Knowing the cute babysitter would still be there, all doe-eyed and shy smiles. She definitely had a crush on him and he couldn’t stop thinking about that.

All day at work he went back and forth with the idea of it. The whole ‘fuck around and find out’ thing was more compelling when he might be able to get away with it. But it wouldn’t be worth it, he told himself even though he continued imagining what she’d feel like underneath him.

His actions completely contradicted that sound internal advice.

Because when he saw Y/n all cuddled up on his couch, a sweater draped over her shoulders and her bare legs stretched out long he allowed himself to stare for a moment. He shouldn’t have been thinking what he was but he couldn’t stop the blood rushing to his cock. He was going straight to hell for the kind of thoughts that were running through his head right then.

She slowly blinked her eyes opened and sat up with a sweet smile, “Hi. How was work?”

God, the cute, bubbly personality on her, even after just waking up from a nap… She hadn’t been tainted by years of grueling workplace drama and a sad and lonely marriage like he had and he found it refreshing.

“Was good. Uh,” he scratched the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on hers, “Everything go all right today here?”

She nodded and moved her legs off the couch, feet hitting the floor as she nodded, “He’s the sweetest. It was a good day. He kept asking for mom so I think he’s upset that she wasn’t here this morning but I told him she’d be back tomorrow night. Fast asleep now.”

But there was something in the way she was looking at him. Like she was just waiting for him to pounce. Rounded eyes, with that shy smile as she bit the edge of her bottom lip. Like she knew what he was thinking, her own mind filled with the same filthy scenarios.

It was late. Harry always got home late on Thursdays. After dark. After his son was already asleep, and usually it was his wife greeting him.

She parted her lips as she let her gaze lower to just below the buckle on his pants and then back up to his eyes.

“Yeah. We’ll be okay without her for a night,” Harry swallowed thickly as he sat his briefcase down and moved deeper into the living room next to the couch where Y/n was still seated. “What about you?”

“What about me?” She raised her brows as she craned her head to look up at him.

“I mean… you alright too? Still seated like you’re tired. You can stay if you want.”

She blinked her eyes and then did it again, letting her pupils connect with the space at his crotch before quickly bringing them back upward to his face, “Oh… I can go. I’m sorry…”

Y/n stood up quickly but Harry caught her by her arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to go. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Was really helpful having you stay late tonight.”

If she kept looking at him like that, those fuck-me eyes and plush parted lips, he wasn’t going to be able to stop himself.

“Oh. I’m glad. Was happy to help you out, Harry. I’d do it as often as you needed me to.”

He grinned and watched her moisten her soft lips when she poked her tongue out and looked up at him through her lashes. If she wasn’t begging for it he didn’t know what this was.

“You gonna stay?”

She nodded, still looking up at him as she tucked her bottom lip into her mouth.

In a moment of weakness, of sheer insanity, he raised his hand up to her face and thumbed at her bottom lip, “What’s going on, Y/n? You got something to tell me?”

She fluttered her lashes and leaned into his touch as she kept her pupils aimed right at him. But then her lips parted again and Harry found himself sliding the tip of his thumb between her lips before she wrapped her mouth around it and he felt her tongue gently lave against his pad.

Now he was the one with parted lips as he watched his kid’s babysitter suck his thumb into her mouth, eyes pinned to his still.

And before he knew it, he found himself fucked in the figurative and literal sense as he had her face down on his mattress with his cock nudged into her so deep she was keening and hissing at the bite of pain his fat length was causing.

“Shhh… be a good girl and keep quiet, yeah?”

“Mmmm!”

It was so good. It was so fucking good. He hadn’t been laid in a couple of months and the babysitter’s pussy was better than he imagined it would be. She was wet for him right away. When he got her very short shorts off her legs and buried his face between her soft thighs she was already so sensitive and dripping, wiggling and moaning like she was just as pent up as he’d been. Like she wanted it just as bad. She’d made a big mess of him and the sheets but he’d deal with clean up later.

Because when he finally pushed his throbbing dick inside of her welcoming pussy it was game over. He had her hips in both hands, tightly gripping the meat at her sides as he buried in over and over again, letting her juice coat every inch and wet his pubes with her fragrance. He watched as he stuffed her with his cock, her cute ass perked upward and she pushed back on every one of his thrusts. So pretty.

Everything was slick and gushy as he plowed into her guts, slapping his hips into her ass. He kept looking at the bedroom door (which was closed and locked) out of habit just in case, but now he was out of his mind as she trembled and drooled against the pillow his wife used.

He slowed his plunges and watched his shaft as he pulled out, “Fuck… got me all creamy, baby. Why don’t you flip over so I can see your pretty face?”

She was shaky as she dropped down to the bed, scooting herself to adjust and then spreading her thighs as he tucked right back inside of her, pelvis dipping against her own.

“Harry…” Y/n quietly breathed as she watched him. He was so thick and long, just like she knew he’d be. She never thought he’d ever step out on his wife but here he was, with his big cock driving into her, making her squelch and stretch wide for him. She almost couldn’t believe it was happening.

Harry groped at her tit, still on his knees as he steadied himself, his thighs working in, “Oh sweet girl…” he panted, quads and glutes flexing with every motion. He picked up her hand and brought her fingertips to his mouth, kissing as he pumped himself through her walls and then dragging his lips down to her palm and then wrist.

“Oh my god…” she whined before draping her arm over her mouth to keep her volume down.

“Who knew you were so filthy? Look at you letting a married man fuck your brains out.”

A muffled moan sounded from her throat as she felt him jerk into her harder, the coarse hair at the base of his dick scratched at her clit before he began to grind his hips against her, adding friction like he knew that was what she was searching for with her hips rising to meet him with every thrust.

“But look at how lucky I am. So pretty… Hot little pussy, fuckin’ drenched, baby. How long were thinking about this, hmm?”

Harry did feel lucky too. Y/n was a hot little thing that he’d had some pretty dirty thoughts about since they first hired her. It was his wife’s choice. Y/n was in her senior year of university with long smooth legs and an adorable shy smile that caught him off guard the first time he saw her. So he always looked forward to seeing her every morning before leaving for work, or in the early evenings when he’d come home to relieve her.

Harry grabbed her other hand, moving her arm from her mouth as he brought those fingers up to his lips to kiss every one of them as he threaded their fingers together on her other hand, never stopping the movement of his hips.

With the back of her hand pressed into the blanket next to her shoulder, she inhaled sharply, trying to catch her breath. “Since I first met you…” she admitted.

Harry grunted, running his tongue along her wrist before folding his fingers into hers like her other hand and then pressing it down to the bed as he leaned over her, pelvis grinding against hers, his balls squeezing against her bum. And that was fucking deep.

“Oh yeah? Fuck, coulda been fucking this pretty pussy for the last few months. Making you come for being such a good girl and just for looking so fucking cute all the time.”

She moaned softly, “It feels so good…”

Harry grinned down at her, feeling her start to squeeze and pulse, “It does doesn’t it? Such a bad thing to feel this good. Might be trouble for us.”

“Mmmm…” she panted and then gasped as she was thrown over the edge, walls gripping and milking his cock.

Harry watched Y/n as she fell apart, “There you go, such a good girl, so pretty, baby…”

Harry gritted his teeth as he fucked her through her orgasm.

He was already leaking precome and practically shaking by the time he pulled himself out and pumped his fat cock right over her tummy. He’d have loved to have just come inside Y/n’s pussy but what he was doing was already dumb as it was.

He grunted and sucked in through his teeth, “Oh fuck…”

He’d gotten a little come on his knuckles as he ran his fist down his shaft, letting the last bits drip out onto the girl below him. A pretty sight. She was all fucked out and dazed, tits rising and falling with every breath, his come marking her tummy and her pussy freshly fucked, still soaked.

He was a gentleman, helped her clean up, and kissed her a little bit more before sending her on her way with a playful swat to her ass. He’d have loved to ask her to stay all night but he worried that that would just confuse things further. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone and Harry said it wouldn’t affect her job and that it would be their secret. Though he did hope he’d have another chance to feel her again one day, he didn’t count on it. His wife was returning the following day and Y/n was soon to finish off her last year of college and she wouldn’t be needing a babysitting gig anymore.

Did he regret cheating on his wife? In that moment, he couldn’t say he did. He had fun and it felt so good to have sex with someone who wanted his cock as bad as Y/n did. He only hoped he didn’t get found out and as long as Y/n kept up her end of the bargain (he was sure she would) he figured the whole thing was a win.

He’d just need to keep himself in check around her when his wife was present. But when his wife wasn’t around he couldn’t promise anything.

. . .

PART 2

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screeching-bunny · 9 months

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Yandere! Game Show Host Hcs

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

A/N: I saw this request and was like this is such a cool request but what if we made him an evil game show host. Like one that would put contestants in deadly scenarios.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host who kidnaps all of the contestants and forces them to play this twisted game that he created for money. Don’t worry though, he rigged the entire game to be in your favor. It was discreet enough for the viewers not to really care but apparent enough for you to notice the favoritism. Did you care? Hell no!! As long as you were getting paid you and survived this whole ordeal could give a rats ass about what happened next. Even when you do manage to get certain questions wrong, he will just brush it off and pretend that it was just a warm up question. The contestants are definitely seething whenever they see this happening.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is a psychopath by nature. In each round, he presents the contestants with morally ambiguous dilemmas, enticing them with promises of grand rewards while dangling the threat of dire consequences for failure. Whether it's forcing them to choose between betraying a fellow contestant or facing a treacherous obstacle, he revels in their anguish, relishing the psychological torment he inflicts.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host is doing everything in his power to make sure that you win the game. He can’t have his poor baby feeling upset if they fail to win the grand prize. He would absolutely give out the most insane questions that practically no one knows the answer to. The punishment for getting a few questions wrong is mutilation of certain body parts and if you get too many questions wrong then you’ll end up being sent to your death. While everyone is basically being tortured in their punishments, he’d never allow that to happen to you. At most he’d probably just flick your forehead and call it a day. I imagine that most of the people watching the show are people who paid for the contestants to be kidnapped and be brought there against their wishes. Everyone who is put onto his show is a horrible person, including yourself, and have done something to be warranted to be there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host bends all the rules of the game for you, providing subtle hints or covert assistance to ensure your safety. Although he has a strong desire to see others in pain and suffering, his love for you is stronger. At first justifies these actions as preserving the "entertainment value" of the show, but deep down, he's driven by an inexplicable desire to protect you.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host would baby you during your time there. He’d make a fuss whenever you tried to do anything remotely dangerous or touch some blood. I could totally see him using a baby voice to try to convince you to stop what you're doing. He has no shame, and everyone is looking at him with utter disbelief/confusion on their faces.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Oh No! Please don’t go over there! You might slip from all the blood on the ground! Come here let me carry you across.”

Viewers: “…”

The contestant with their leg cut off: “…”

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host thrives on the power he wields over his contestants, reveling in their suffering as they navigate his challenges. As the game progresses, his demeanor grows more twisted, enjoying the contestants' internal conflicts and emotional turmoil. He taunts them with mocking laughter, reveling in their discomfort and manipulating their decisions to heighten the drama. God forbid that you manage to develop a crush on someone while you are there. He’d absolutely lose it and do everything in his power to crush them. You best believe that he’s going to keep them alive for as long as possible and give them the worst punishments known to man.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host has cameras everywhere and when it's time for the contestants to rest for the night he’s going to be observing you. He’s a loser who doesn’t really know how to act around you without becoming a mess. In his spare time, he likes to just watch you through the cameras and imagine himself right next to you. He’s absolutely delulu about your feelings towards him and believes that you feel the same way. Even when you do manage to win this fucked up game, he’s not letting you go. There’s no way that he’s letting you leave after you managed to steal his heart. After this is all over, he’s taking you to his house and locking you there.

🌟 Yandere! Game Show Host holds pride in knowing how many people are at the mercy of his hand. Has a minor God complex and has this skewed mindset about how everyone else is beneath him besides you. Believes that you were made just for him and that you're his one true love. Would rather die than give you up or allow anyone to “take you away from him”. He’s like an annoying roach and almost impossible to get rid of. He’s making sure to stay with you for as long as possible.

—

Yandere! Game Show Host strides onto the stage with a wicked gaze, his piercing gaze fixed on the contestants. His voice, a chilling blend of charm and malice, booms through the speakers as he welcomes the participants with a mocking flourish. Thom who were strapped onto a table with heavy objects over their heads.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright contestant number one, what is the mass of the Sun divided by Planck's constant in nanometers.

Contestant One: “HOW THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT!?!?!”

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Unfortunately, that's not the correct answer. You’ll now be facing the consequences.” In a matter of seconds, the heavy object comes flying down with alarming speed. Upon impact, it mercilessly crushes against their skull, unleashing an overwhelming and unimaginable force that distorts bone and flesh. Yandere! Game Show Host then makes his way towards you and begins to speak.

Yandere! Game Show Host: “Alright, it's your turn now. No pressure, I know you’ll do great just take your time. Okay what’s 1 + 1?”

You: “2.”

Yandere! Game Show Host: "Talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it."

Other Contestants: “What the hell!?!? How is this fair!?!!

#yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere scenarios #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere game show host

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pr0cyon-lotor · 2 months

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AU where instead of Shen Yuan being obsessed with Luo Binghe, he's instead obsessed with the scum villain himself. I mean we all know Bingge is Very Not Good Person™ but you know who else a Very Not Good Person™? Say it with me: Shen Jiu

Like just imagine a timeline where Shen Yuan is writing paragraph after paragraph about how Shen Qingqiu might actually be a good person but Airplane is wasting his potential. The other commenters are saying he's delusional because he abused the protagonist and as all these TERRIBLE allegations towards him. So he's a clear cut villain.

But Shen Yuan is defending his fav with the vigor of a devout worshipper. He's constantly siting parts that are obvious plot holes and how they could give much needed context to Shen Qingqiu's character.

Other people are demanding for worst things to happen to Shen Qingqiu to spite him. Airplane caves. Shen Yuan actively commissions art and fics where Shen Qingqiu is happy. People tell him "Shen Qingqiu won't fuck you bro"

Shen Yuan isn't interested in that. He's a freaky little man with freaky little likes. He'd gladly take Shen Qingqiu's cold glares and even volunteer to have tea poured on him.

When he finishes PIDW, he's been outraged that Shen Qingqiu was killed off a while back. He's even more outraged that Shen Qingqiu wasn't given any mention at the end.

Now, imagine with me that he gets transmigrated into some NPC, literally Unimportant Character No°5. Probably as the head disciple for drama reasons. And as soon as Shen Jiu is brought in, scruffy and hissing as he is. He immediately hugging his thighs and saying he'll be peak lord for sure.

Please follow me into this suspicious alleyway as I continue to explain my vision fueled by sleep deprivation.

So now imagine your Shen Jiu. You're a former street rat and demonic cultivator, you aren't expecting to be liked or respected. You're expecting it, you've come to terms with it a long time ago. What you weren't expecting was for this random ass guy you have to call da-shixiong is immediately insane about you.

He met you first day, literally saw you bite a guy, and immediately started spouting out how you'll be the next peak lord and the absolute envy of Cang Qiong Mountain. You conclude he's missing a few screws because he said it in the most disgustingly sincere way.

You try to continue on with your life, trying to beat him and he looks almost... Excited about you beating him. So he's an M, you think to yourself. But then you see someone trying to beat him or you on something, and this guy immediately gets aggressive. Okay so he's just weird with you.

You continue to deal with him. He's weird but also weirdly respectful. He leaves if you tell him to leave. He defends you like it's his very birth right. He's always there to tend to you as if you were a god. He doesn't touch you and only sits around like a dog waiting for a command.

You eventually get strong enough to beat him, and this absolute buffoon is over the moon about it, already spouting about your supposed success again.

When you actually become peak lord, it isn't surprising. Your hype man has been saying it since day one, he was expecting it for some reason. He continues to spout out nonsense about how he just knew you were going to do it.

So what now? You obviously desire him carnally. What is the next step?

Okay so I know this wouldn't fix them. Almost without question this would make they both worse. But, hear me out, it would be funny. (Especially since just know Shen Yuan's entire inner monologue would be him saying he's just being a good friend as if he isn't being the gayest man in the sect and Shang Qinghua is there. That's an accomplishment to outgay the author)

#ignore me im insane #i can only articulate my ideas through silly haha jokes #but like y'all get it right?#svsss #jiuyuan #scumcum #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #shen yuan #shitpost #idk i'm just rambling #personally I always saw SY on the asexuality spectrum but still that man is PRETTY gay about men #especially pretty men #good for him

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captainreecejames · 3 months

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Miss Movin On || My Ex is a Footballer CL16 Edition

links [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist] [series update with more footballers]

summary your ex is engaged and you haven't moved on, or have you?

pairings ex!federico chiesa x reader, charles leclerc x reader faceclaim benedetta porcaroli

warnings cursing, mentions of austria 24

notes lol this is kinda short but my head has been hurting for the past few days so I haven't been able to do much. Fernando Alonso's my ex is the next one I'm working on.

yn's instagram messages -----

yn's messages -----

twitter ------

ynusername posted a story -------

ynusername posted ---------

liked by carmenmmundt, arthurleclerc and others

ynusername me and the bestie tagged opheliamillaiss

load more comments

opheliamillaiss ti amo ynnie! i love you ynnie ↳ ynusername sei bellessima you are beautiful

username1 i HAVE seen two pretty best friends

username7 she's trying to distract us from her story ↳ username8 yn, babe, who was the man??

username2 why is arthur leclerc lurking in the likes? ↳ username3 was it him in the story? ↳ username2 no i don't think so ↳ username3 your're right, looked more like charles

username4 girl it's time to move on ↳ username5 she posts about her friend and you guys are mentioning chiesa! can't make anyone happy here

username6 thoughts on the euros? ↳ ynusername :(((

yn's whatsapp messages -------

"unofficial official drivers group chat"

charlie now accepting caption ideas for my post about yn

ynnie charles no

max emilian charles yes

ynnie max no

danny ric max yes

landotd max no

ynnie lol not the norstappen breakup drama

landotd you made this my name didn't you

ynnie well... yes you did say it was better than the actual trophy 🤷‍♀️

landotd you make me want to say max yes

ynnie lmao telling the f1 girlies that I'm the reason yall are getting back together

charlie and none of you are helping me with the caption

frenchie pie shhh cha, we're watching the girls fighting messaged haha'd by 11

princess george "imagine getting knocked out of the euros and losing yn, couldn't be me"

albono aww, george that's a good one

carmen 🩵 that's because it's my idea

lily 🏌️🏻‍♀️💙 I knew it babe

aussie son fumbled the bag and the girl or winning isn't for everyone, but it is for me 👎🏻 by ynnie

lily 🧡 how about monagasque men do it better 👎🏻 by ynnie

carmen 🩵 damn lils!

frenchie pie "you broke her heart, I breaka da spaghetti" 👎🏻 by ynnie

logie bear "formula 1 > soccer"

lewlew make that football and you got a good one

kmags why are we coming up with captions?

hulk 💚 because yn's ex man is messaging her being a dick and so charles has decided to hard launch

kmags ohhh wait, how do you know this nico?

hulk 💚 I stay in the know 💪🏼

ynnie gotta keep my grid dad up to date

nando why the fuck is he your grid dad??

lewlew yeah wtf?

ynnie uhm, cause my grid dad can't be my boyfriends grid dad or my son's dad's boyfriend???

charlie still getting off topic

frenchie pie don't worry chiesa, she's moved on to someone better

kika!! 💘 pierre, he is not saying that!

ynnie thank you!! someone actually on my side

kika!! 💘 say 'don't worry, she's moved on'

ynnie how about none of those

charlie i don't see you coming up with anything, mon cherie

ynnie meet my love, yn?? my beautiful girlfriend, yn?? something normal please

charles_leclerc posted ------

liked by ynusername, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_leclerc don't worry bud, she's moved on

load more comments

username11 calling chiesa bud is insane

username12 two different tifosi coming together to NOT maximize their joint slay ↳ username11 charles really declaring war on juve fans ↳ username12 who will win? ferrari or juve?

ynusername sha, this is not what we agreed on. ↳ charles_leclerc but this is funnier, no? ↳ ynusername I blame pierregasly for this ↳ pierregasly that's okay, MY bestie is iconic ↳ francisca.cgomes are you calling me not iconic ↳ ynusername hahaha, let's all laugh at pierre now ♥️ by estebanocon ↳ username13 not estie bestie liking that comment

username14 THE HAND ON HER THROAT IN THE SECOND PICTURE??? YN HOW DID YOU SURVIVE? ↳ username15 BITCH WHO CARES ABOUT THAT HAND!! LOOK AT THE FIRST PICTURE! ↳ username14 charles marking his spot like a dog

lewishamilton look at you two! ↳ ynusername hi future teammate!

logansargeant i liked my suggestion :( ↳ charles_leclerc me too ↳ oscarpiastri personally my options were better ↳ username16 now I want to know what you all suggested ↳ logansargeant formula 1 > soccer

username17 someone should edit that picture of jorginho getting the spaghetti dumped on him to chiesa, but it's actually formula 1 cars ↳ username18 winning isn't for everyone, but it is for Charles ↳ oscarpiastri that's what I said! ↳ username18 omg twins!

username19 chiesa really fumbled the bag ↳ oscarpiastri I said that one too! ↳ username19 oscar just twinning with everyone!

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x fem!reader #charles leclerc #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 smau #read #danielle writes #federico chiesa x ex!reader

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il-miele-che-scrive · 8 months

Text

Go for his brother part 2

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

username1 DOUBLE BETRAYAL 😭

↳username2 wdym bro wtf Arthur is just getting his karma, he CHEATED on Y/n with her best friend

↳username2 and Y/n only got with his brother after the breakup

username3 It's so crazy to me how not long ago Y/n was with Arthur at Charles' race and we could see them all lovey dovey and now she's with Charles 💀

username4 I hope they actually like each other and it's not just something Y/n schemed to get back at Arthur

↳username5 And even if it is, so what? Both Leclercs deserve this if she's doing it for the sake of revenge

username4 What did Charles ever do to you 😭 he's a literal pookie

username6 I am BEGGING to find out Arthur's reaction

username7 I wanna see this on Drive To Survive lmao

↳username8 The most interesting thing in the whole season lol

username9 Exactly! Men driving in circles? Nah, fuck that, give me family drama

yourusername The Art & The Artist

view all comments

charles_leclerc I took way more than these 2 pictures, should post them all

↳yourusername some would get me banned🤭

username1 MY OH MY

username2 What did she say 😐

username3 I'm jealous but haven't decided if I want him or her

username4 Arthur better not read this comment section (I hope he will)

francisca.cgomes Thanks for blessing my eyes 🫶

↳yourusername You're welcome bestie🫶

username4 it's so nice to see Y/n found a friend who won't steal her bf

username5 You can't be sure, it's Charles Leclerc we're talking about. You think he wouldn't go for his best friends' girlfriend who is now his own girlfriends' best friend after pulling what he's just pulled?

username4 ngl girl I got lost in whatever you're saying

yoursister In your iconic girl era ❤️

↳yourusername I slayed didn't I 💅

username6 Honestly guys I believe it's not just a revenge scheme

↳username5 What makes you think that?

username6 Given these pictures and the pictures from the gossip page they look pretty much happy to me, too happy for it to be fake

username5 Whatever you say, we'll see. They have to get tired of pretending one day

exbestfriend Glowing ✨🩷

↳yourusername 😐

↳francisca.cgomes 😐

↳yoursister 😐

↳charles_leclerc 😐

↳pierregasly 😐

↳georgerussell63 😐

↳carmenmmundt 😐

↳alex_albon 😐

↳lilymhe 😐

username7 Y/N AND HER COMMENT SECTION ARE ICONIC 😭

↳username8 I can't stop imagining them having a gc and she sent a screenshot of her ex best friend's comment like "you know what to do, guys" 🤣

username9 I just know Arthur is screaming crying throwing up because LOOK AT WHAT HE LOST

username10 Lol who's next? Toto Wolff?

arthur_leclerc My favorite love story is ours ❤️

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exbestfriend So happy we found each other ❤️❤️

username1 💀

username2 Alright they both have the audacity

username3 your love story is cheating on Y/n lmao

username4 Imagine they have a kid one day who'll ask mom dad how did you meet lol

↳username3 I'd be EMBARRASSED

username5 They deserve each other tbh

username6 Hey but... What if this pic and Y/n's pics were taken on the same day...

↳username7 wdym

username6 Arthur wanted to keep and eye on his ex and his brother from afar 😭

username7 it's terrible but possibly true lmao

exbestfriend I'm so sick of people judging us

↳username2 That's what you deserve, the both of you

↳username4 when actions have consequences:😮

yourusername Back at the paddock ❤️

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username1 At least she didn't downgrade right?

yoursister You guys look so good together

↳yourusername Thank you 🫶 ily

↳charles_leclerc Yes we do 😊

↳username2 Y/s/n never commented anything like this when Y/n used to post with Arthur😭

lilymhe It was nice catching up with you when the boys were playing

↳yourusername maybe next time you and Alex could come over so the boys can play some video games together

username3 Pls they're just two single mothers bonding over their toddlers being besties😭

username4 I NEED TO KNOW IF ARTHUR WAS THERE

↳username5 You crazy? Ofc he wouldn't have come, he's too scared of confrontation

username4 Okay but then what if one day Y/n and Charles get married? Will Arthur just skip his brother's wedding?

username5 I think some time will pass before Charles decides to settle down. And not with Y/n, that's for sure

username6 Why not? Y/n makes a much better couple with Charles than she did with Arthur

username5 Charles would never take her seriously lol she dated his brother, Charles is just having fun with her while letting her have her moment

arthur_leclerc Are you wearing the dress you wore on our first date?

↳username2 SHE'S WHAT?????

↳username3 wtf are u doing here

↳yourusername Maybe...

username4 Mother keeps slaying 😭👏

username7 I aspire to be like Y/n fr

alex_albon Lily said we should have a double date

↳yourusername Let's do it then @/lilymhe @/charles_leclerc when and where

arthur_leclerc I just wonder when will you get bored of this

↳yourusername Bored of what exactly? Going to races? You know I've always enjoyed looking at cars go vroooom

arthur_leclerc You know what I mean

arthur_leclerc Of pretending to like Charles just to prove me some delusional point

yourusername You really think I'd waste my energy on that? It's a funny coincidence indeed, but I do like him actually

arthur_leclerc Mhm sure I give you maybe 6 months more, can't keep pretending forever

charles_leclerc A family gathering & the morning after

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username1 OH GREAT HEAVENS

pierregasly Now that's something none of us expected

↳username2 bro speaking facts

username3 They said fuck you Arthur you'll get a proof we're not pretending😭

username4 Well at least the family already knew her

↳username5 Pascale liked Y/n so much she said girl you have my blessing no matter which one u marry

username3 Guys do you think Arthur was there? You know, it's a family gathering, so he had to be there, right?

alex_albon Charles settling down wasn't on my bingo card this year

↳lilymhe Neither was it on mine but I love it

francisca.cgomes Girl you realize there's no going back now? 😂

↳yourusername I hope so😜🫶

arthur_leclerc I still can't believe how disrespectful you both are

↳charles_leclerc Look who's speaking of being disrespectful

↳yourusername stfu arthur maman literally had to kick you out of the party

username3 The way it used to be "Thurthur" and now it's "stfu arthur" 😶

username2 at least the "maman" is the same right

username5 I feel like Pascale likes Y/n more than she likes Arthur

username7 wtf guys PASCALE HAD TO KICK ARTHUR OUT OF THE PARTY 😭😭

↳username8 That's crazy, imagine how's the wedding gonna look like

carlossainz55 Getting engaged after a few weeks? Is she pregnant?😂

↳username9 Not funny

username10 Chill that's just millennial humour from back when pregnancy outside marriage was a disgrace

↳charles_leclerc We've known each other long enough to make this decision 🫢

carlossainz55 Valid point

arthur_leclerc But for majority of this time she was my girlfriend

charles_leclerc On which you cheated

arthur_leclerc @/yourusername did you use me just to get to Charles? Was it your plan from the beginning?

↳yourusername Sure because I have nothing else to do lmao

↳yourusername We've talked about it yesterday arthur, don't start again

arthur_leclerc I just still can't believe Charles would do something like that to me

yourusername And half a year ago I believed you wouldn't have ever cheated on me

charles_leclerc I said it yesterday and I'll say it again, Arthur I will always love you as a brother, but you messed up big time, you can't be mad at us

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 smau #f1 social media au #Charles leclerc smau #arthur leclerc x reader #Arthur leclerc smau #Charles leclerc social media au #Arthur leclerc social media au

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wenigstenshabeichesversucht · 6 months

Text

Girls Castellan might like

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Athena kid!Reader

Summary: After talking to Annabeth, you try to figure out who Luke likes. And what would be the best way to do this other than a list?

Warnings: fluff, english is not my native language

Word Count: 2.6k

First when you had arrived, Camp Half-Blood sounded like a dream. A place where you were finally safe, thanks to Mr. D. the weather was always good and there were many activities. But after some time, doing always the same stuff got boring. Learning ancient Greek, cleaning stables, Pegasus riding, picking strawberries, Sword and archery training, Volleyball, Capture the Flag, swimming in the lake, and campfire singalongs. Every week it was the same. Thanks Aphrodite, you were all hormonal teenagers and at least there was sometimes exciting drama at camp.

Like right now, you were sitting at breakfast, and you couldn't help but notice, that Lucy, Daughter of Aphrodite, was glaring holes in the back of Luke Castellan’s head. Clutching the knife firm that her knuckles were white, she looked as if she was about to jump up and pounce on the Hermes cabin counselor. A big contrast to yesterday, when they couldn't keep their hands off each other around the campfire. So, what happened in the darkness of the night?

"You see it too?”, you asked your half-sister Annabeth curious, who already had assessed the whole situation.

“It’s not surprising, she isn’t his type.”

“Not his type?”, you echoed taken aback.

Before Luke and Lucy were a thing, only for ten days but still a thing, he had something with one of Lucy’s half-sisters. There had been a lot of drama, when Luke had ended things with Stephanie and was seen kissing Lucy three days later. It had been a lot of fun, maybe except for Luke, Stephanie, and Lucy. But back to the actual situation, after this story, everybody, you too, though that Luke’s type were beautiful girls, preferable daughters of Aphrodite. And who could blame him? They were otherworldly pretty.

“He likes feisty girls who are good fighters”, Annabeth told you unaffected while picking at her bacon with her fork.

“How do you know that?”

Annabeth and Luke were close, like siblings. But you couldn’t imagine neither Annabeth nor Luke lying down on one of their beds and talking about girls.

“Because he is so obvious.”

If she said so. You hadn't noticed it yet, but maybe you hadn't looked closely either. You had wanted to spare yourself the pain.

“And who does he like?”, you dared a short look at Luke, who was laughing about something Chris had said. Seeing this, you couldn’t help it, your lips pulled up to a small smile. Next to you Annabeth rolled her eyes. But you only had eyes for the pretty head counselor of cabin 11.

“Won’t tell you”, astonished you teared your eyes of Luke and looked to your little sister. A smug smile was dancing around her mouth. “You always complain that you're bored. Perhaps finding it out may help you battle your boredom.”

You immediately regretted complaining to her about your boredom at the start of your breakfast. This was now her revenge.

“Can you at least tell me if it’s a girl or a boy.”

“A girl, that's the only tip you get.”

Like every organized person you started your research with a list. Your list with the very fitting title ‘Girls Castellan might like’ included every girl at camp, except the ones who were too young and the girls you knew, were bad at fighting.

Next your research led you in the arena, where Luke was teaching sword fight. Clutching your list, like it was your most prized possession, you searched for a good place to keep an eye on everything. With a little bit of luck, you would be able to watch, how Luke was interacting with some of the girls on your list and could draw further conclusions from this.

You weren’t the only one, who came just to watch the practice. A few seats away sat a few daughters of Aphrodite. And you quickly understood why.

Holding a sword Luke was a force to be reckoned with. His movements were smooth as butter, and you couldn’t help noticing his muscles tensing under his shirt as he performed various exercises. Your gaze unconsciously slipped to his large hands, which were loosely holding the sword. After years of wielding a sword, they must be covered with calluses. How would it feel, if his callused hands would wander over your body, cupping your hips to pull you closer to him?

“What are you scheming?”

An all too familiar voice snapped you out of your daydream. Caught like a deer in headlights you looked up to Luke Castellan, who was standing right in front of you. Just looking at his hands, you could feel a blush slowly creeping up. Damn hormones.

“I’m not scheming”, you protested while stuffing the list hastily in the back pocket of your jeans shorts.

“Sure, that's why you're hiding the note”, amused Luke’s brown eyes sparkled. And what beautiful eyes he had. Stop! You had to concentrate! “Besides kids of Athena don’t just sit around and watch people, you lot are always scheming.”

“If you say so”, trying to seem cool, you shrugged your shoulders. “But that’s not why you came here.”

“Always so wise, fancy a fight?”

„There is no way I will beat you with a sword.”

And why fight if you already knew that you would lose? That wasn’t your style. You and your half-siblings knew better than that.

“What about hand-to-hand combat?”

Now you were talking! In hand-to-hand combat you could stand a chance.

“So desperate to lose, Castellan?”, you teased trying to drive away the nervousness that had settled in your bones. Sometimes you hated the nervousness Luke Castellan made you feel in his present, but looking at him, you knew, that you could never hate him.

“When it comes to you, I’m always desperate”, there was a time, were words like that form Luke’s lips, had made your heart flatter. That was before you realized that he was just a big flirt and wasn’t serious. But now, older, and wiser, you just rolled your eyes, before you motioned for him to follow you down in the arena.

“Flirting will not help you to win.”

Luke just shrugged, “Doesn't hurt trying.”

Yours and Luke’s hand-to-hand combats were famous around the camp. Luke had quick reflexes, was tall and full of muscles, while you were a strategic mastermind, always three steps ahead. And none of you shied away from getting down and dirty. Therefore, it was no surprise, that a ring of onlookers had already formed before one of you could throw the first punch. Besides, you were too focused to really mind it. You had already fought against Luke so often, that it felt more like a rehearsed dance than a fight. Maybe this was your way of dancing. While the Aphrodite girls danced around the bonfire, you danced in an arena to the music of your own heartbeat.

Like always it was Luke who opened the fight. With one large strike he closed the distanced between you and tried to punch you in your face, so your hands would go up, and he could kick you in your belly. Seeing this coming, you caught his hand with yours and while he lifted his leg, your swiped yours under his other one to bring him down. Letting go of his hands, you watched with a smile, how the tumbled down to the floor. But instead of going after him, you gave him the time you stand up. He was stronger than you, so you wanted to avoid wrestling with him on the floor so early at all costs, it would only end badly for you. First, he had to get tired, and none knew better that you how to wear down Luke Castellan.

His next three punches you easily dodged and then you stroke. Letting go of a flurry of blows it was Luke’s turn to block. For a moment you just exchanged blows, neither of you managed to blow the other's cover. But then Luke clipped the side of your face and while hot pain shot through your left cheek, you stumbled back. However, as fast as he punched you, you recovered. Dipping under his outstretched arm, you twisted said arm in a painful angle. You could hear his sharp inhale. And maybe it brought you a little bit of joy. But before you knew what happened, Luke had knelt and thrown you over his shoulder. To everyone's surprise, including yours, you somehow managed to land on your feet. Taking advantage of the chance that his face was still near your knees, you rammed your knee into his nose, drawing first blood. Both of you watched stunned how it dripped down from his chin to the floor, where it mixed with the sand. You had won sooner than any of you thought.

“It was a good fight, sorry about your nose”, you winced, but Luke just waved you off.

“It’s fine. I would have preferred it if you had won the fight with a tackle, but that's the way it is.”

Before you could respond a pretty girl from cabin 10 rushed to Luke with a handkerchief in her hands, and you were forgotten. Not wanting to watch Luke soaking up her attention, you retreated.

Only when you had left the arena and wanted to reach for your list, you found it missing. As if struck by lightning, you froze. You were pretty sure, that you didn’t lose the list. If it had fallen out of your pocket, you would have seen it lying on the floor, you were sure of it. That could only mean one thing. Just thinking about it made you wish the ground would open up and swallow you. Hot panic shot up your back and you felt like screaming. Someone had stolen your list, without you even noticing. There was only one person who got close enough to you to do this and at the same time had the nimble fingers required, Luke Castellan.

At dinner, you were sulking in self-pity while you were trying very hard to look everywhere except at a certain table. Maybe if you would not draw his attention for a week or maybe two, he would forget about the list. Or at least you could pretend that he forgot. The other option was, that you would flee from camp and never look back. Considering the monsters that lurked outside the borders for young demigods, the first was clearly the safer option.

The fear that he would share the list with all the campers, and they would laugh at you, gnawed at you, that you couldn't swallow a bite. Your throat felt like it was tight up, yet it was your hands who were tight up. You couldn’t do anything besides waiting for the storm to blow over, and you hated it.

Your thoughts got interrupted by a paper plane which landed perfectly in front of you. Surprised, your head shot up, and your eyes locked with a pair of dark brown ones. Sending you a wink, Luke dived into conversation with his siblings, and you couldn’t help but groan. His father was the messenger god, if Luke wanted to convey a message, he could do it by paper plane without any problems.

Torn you looked at the paper plane. Did you really want to know what he had to say? What if he just wanted to make fun of you? But if not? With shaking hands, you picked up the paper. Your mum was Athena, goddess of war, you wouldn't hide from Castellan, you would face this fight. Determinedly unfolding the paper, your eyes scanned the list spread out in front of you. You knew this list; you had written this list. Everything was how you had left it, beside one thing. Luke has crossed out the ‘might’ in the title and had replaced it with a ‘doesn't’ in his scraggly handwritten. Now the new title of your list read as ‘Girls Castellan doesn't like ‘.

A few days passed and you weren’t wiser. There must be a mistake! The list you made included every girl, that could fight and wasn’t a child. If Annabeth wasn't wrong, Luke had to like one of them. And Annabeth was never wrong. Crouching on your bottom lip you looked down on the list in your hands.

You were sitting in the grass near the strawberry fields, the sun was warming your face. When you weren't busy avoiding Luke, you were thinking about the list and its meaning. By changing the title Luke hinted, that he didn’t like any of the girls on the list. You had double and triple checked it, you hadn’t forgotten anyone. But Annabeth couldn’t be wrong, that had never happened before. It was maddening. It was like a riddle you were too dumb to solve, and you hated it. You were a daughter of Athena for god’s sake. Right now, you were possible one of her greatest shames, if she was interested enough in you to know what you were up to.

Before more negative thoughts could fill your mind, a shadow appeared over you. As you looked up, calluses hands stole the list out of your fingers. Groaning you faced none other than Luke Castellan.

“Still trying to find out who I fancy?”, he asked with a shit eating grin, and you couldn’t help but blush. But before you exposed yourself any further, you went into offense. As well known, attack was the best defense.

“You mislead me intentional”, you accused him. “The list includes every girl from camp. If Annabeth not wrong, you must like one of them.”

And you both knew Annabeth was never wrong.

“Actually, you forgot one person on your little list.”

That couldn’t be. You checked the list, more than once. You hadn’t! But it wouldn’t hurt to check the list another time.

“Give me the list”, you demanded, but Luke just hold the list over his head out of your reach. This was how he wanted to play it? Fine by you. Springing to your feet, you reached for the list, but Luke was taller than you. Tiptoeing you unconsciously moved closer to Luke. You first realized how close you were, as he wrapped his arm around your waist. Fighting a blush you hold your breath. You were so close, that Luke could certainly feel your heart almost jumping out of your chest.

“You are missing from the list”, he whispered, and you just could gape. That was too good to be true. That must be a dream.

“Because you can’t fancy me.”

“Why not?”

Truly confused, Luke furrowed his brows. Never had you seen him like this, and slowly you realized that he wasn’t joking. He didn’t want to trick you, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. Had you not wished for this for a long time?

“I’m not pretty like the Aphrodite girls you dated”, you confessed your insecurity. But Luke didn’t want to hear anything about it.

“In my eyes you are. You are tougher, braver, smarter, and far more beautiful. You are perfect. Can I kiss you?”

Lost for words, you could just nod. Carefully taking your face in his hands, he stroked back your hair, before lowering his lips to yours. The kiss was sweet, slow and everything you ever wanted. Sadly, it was over way too fast.

“I’m very glad Annabeth told me to help you with your project, on the day we fought. Otherwise, I wouldn't have stolen your list”, Luke confessed, still caressing your face. Oh, you see what she did there.

“Seems like she did set us up. Should we prank her for this?”

“Did I already tell you, that you are perfect?”

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan oneshot #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan fluff #daughter of athena #athena!reader

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keeksandgigz · 8 months

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

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lovelybluebirdie · 10 months

Text

The astonishing failure of a simple plan

Astarion x f!Reader

Summary: Astarion tries to wrap his head around you, when a sudden tumult in camp occurs.

[AO3]

The concept of altruism had always been quite strange to Astarion.

Doing something solely for benefiting others, without one's own needs primarily in mind – how outrageously foolish.

And yet, he caught himself considering the idea more often since he had met you.

You, the soft-hearted soul who always seemed to stumble directly into the next best opportunity to solve the problems of complete strangers that would cross your way – gladly interfering with any sort of personal drama.

Although you and the rest of your travel companions had been infected with a tadpole to the brain, leaving you in desperate need for a cure to this rather urgent condition, somehow you would always manage to save a child from getting gruesomely killed by harpies, pick a fight with a powerful hag to rescue some random woman you just met or annihilate an entire camp full of goblins to ensure safe travels for a bunch of Tieflings – without at least demanding a proper compensation for all your troubles.

You just did those things, and it drove Astarion mad.

Perhaps one of the reasons for your undeniable saviour complex were the recurring thoughts that plagued you. You had once explained it as particularly dark urges, the impulse to hurt and kill spreading its roots inside your brain, evolving into a yearn to act out the most gruesome visions one could imagine. Gloriously kill an innocent to bathe in their blood, crush a squirrel to death with your bare fists or rip off a stranger's hand in need of help – malicious ideas that would otherwise never cross your mind.

The origin of these unwanted desires were unknown to you, but you sensed that it had to be connected to your past somehow – a part of you that had yet to be completely revealed. Of course, you had sworn to give everything in your might to resist them. And luckily for the life of your travel companions, you were mostly able to succeed.

Regardless of these murderous tendencies coming with your affliction, you were still the kindest person Astarion had ever met. A contradiction in itself, and yet you were – well, you.

Lately, Astarion had caught himself just perceiving you.

Taking in your soft expression as you were mindlessly humming a song to yourself, sitting barefoot by the river, hands elbow-deep in the cold water to wash your clothes, sticking this stupid little melody to his head for the rest of the day.

While resting at camp, he had watched you reading – one of your favourites, the lexicon of bird species in Faerûn – a terribly boring topic, but you seemed to indulge in the lengthy descriptions of a blue jay’s wingspan. You would fetch Astarion a caught smile between slowly turned pages, eyes half-closed, before eventually dozing off in the flickering light of the fire. He had barely been fast enough to catch the edges of your slipping book, saving it from landing in the dirt.

The other day, he noticed you carefully picking flowers from the road, acting like it was the most important task on your schedule. Later, you would sit in silence, brows furrowed in concentration and hands busy with knotting them into a beautiful headband. A gift for Karlach, since you had sensed that she hadn’t been too well on this particular day.

A sickeningly sweet gesture.

And yet, so typically you. Affectionate, always looking after your dearest companions.

He remembered the feeling of you casually squeezing his shoulder after an exhausting battle, the concerned look you would give him as you noticed that he had been injured, and how you insisted on treating his wounds with the utmost care, not leaving his side before you made sure his bleeding had entirely stopped.

There was the sensation of your fingers gently forming circles through his white curls, while he had buried his fangs deep inside your neck, greedily gulping down the blood you had been willingly offered to him. The quickening of your pulse, the little shivers your body would give away as he was feeding on you.

Your thumb shyly placed against his brow, the tender movement as you traced his features. The sincerity in your voice as you described the outlines of his face to him, after he had shared with you that his lack of reflection had turned the image of his own appearance into a dark shape from his past. Profane vanity was all he had initially seeked from you that evening, listening to you calling him beautiful and stroking his ego, and yet there had been a certain intimacy resonating in that moment. You had described to him what the world would see when it looked at him – what you would see.

Astarion groaned and pulled his blanket up to his chin, almost covering his bottom lip with the thin woollen fabric.

Gods, how you irritated him.

How you had infested his mind with your nauseating goodness.

When you first met, Astarion had decided that precisely this outstanding character trait of yours should be your undoing.

You offered an easy prey, he had thought to himself in a blissful glee, as he imagined all the ways in which he would bargain your trust.

Luring and deceiving were practically moulded into him, therefore charming you appeared as easy as picking the lock on a broken chest. In order to survive under his former master Cazador, he had become an unwilling adept in these abilities.

Astarion flinched as the memory of his ruthless tormentor reentered his mind. Cazador had turned him into a vampire spawn almost two centuries ago and made him his slave, forcing him to a life in complete darkness and made him use his body to bring more than thousands of victims to him.

In order to deceive you, Astarion had formed a rather simple plan: Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you would never turn on him – old habits that cemented over the past centuries had kicked in.

Therefore, it should have been easy with you. Instinctive. Following a pattern of studied behaviour, throwing his best lines at you until you would breathe his name between tousled sheets - leaving your body aching for him and trusting him unconditionally.

All he had to do was follow this nice little plan of his, deepening the selfish bond he aimed to create between the two of you in order to secure his safety. To get you on his side.

It should have been nothing more than an insurance. A simple transaction, so to speak: His honeyed words for your protection. Performing an act, yourself delightfully unaware of your leading role in this little play of his.

Well, and what else could it ever be? After all, manipulating others in order to get something out of them was the only way he had ever known.

And yet: with you, things had somewhat felt entirely different.

At least, his plan had evidently borne fruit by now: Not only were you voluntarily offering your blood to help him with his cravings after he had revealed his past of being a vampire spawn, you had also sworn to help him finding out the meaning of the scars on his back and dealing with Cazador when the time would come.

Still, instead of savouring his accomplishment he found himself distracted with his attempts to wrap his head around you.

Sometimes he wanted nothing more than to peek inside this little skull of yours, picking your brain until he would satisfy his curiosity with you and determine the reason why you were lingering on his mind of late.

He wanted to figure out what made him actually want to listen to the things you had to say, admire your wit when you would share a heartfelt laugh over one of your foolish jokes or why he would seek your company after a night spent in familiar solitude. And even worse: Why in the Hells he had caught himself enjoying how your face would light up after you had saved another unfortunate soul in need on your travels.

Astarion sighed and pushed his fingers to his eyes, hoping that pressing them shut would free him from his vexing thoughts, as a sudden noise distracted him.

The pounding of hurried footsteps and jumbled voices rose outside his tent, growing louder and faster.

He let out another disgruntled sigh.

Gods, what would it be now?

Whoever was roaming around your camp this late at night, screaming like an animal, better had a rightful reason to do so.

His annoyance fell off immediately as he came to understand what the unfamiliar voices were yelling: Your name. Followed by pleas for help.

Before he even comprehended what exactly posed this sudden level of urgency, his feet had already dragged him outside in the dark, a cold breeze brushing against his skin.

“What is going on?” he heard his own voice meddling into the sudden tumult.

Then he spotted you: Arms and legs hanging lifelessly, brought down on your bedding by one of the Harpers he remembered from the Last Light Inn. You were followed by a few other Harpers who positioned themselves around your tent - they were desperately shouting for a healer.

An icy grip twisted Astarion’s chest as he stormed forward to reach you, stomping through mud and dirt.

“Is she hurt?” His voice broke as he saw your face. You were lying on your blanket, eyes rolling behind closed lids, cheeks all flushed and a thin line of sweat forming on your brow. You looked utterly terrible: Weakened and sick, seemingly in a feverish delirium.

Astarion had seen you wounded before, due to blood and gore being in the nature of your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles, but never like this: more dead than alive, not moving a single major muscle.

What in the Nine Hells had happened to you?

Astarion swallowed hard before he found his voice again and turned to the ones who had brought you in.

“What did you do to her?” he hissed, readying himself to grab the Harper next to him by the throat and shake him until his tongue would loosen. “Explain yourself, now!”

Before any of the men could open their agape mouths in response to Astarion’s daunting request, Shadowheart broke the heated atmosphere with a soft push to his shoulder and made way to kneel beside you.

“Let me see her.” She spoke quickly as she felt for your pulse and started to spread her hands protectively over you, encompassing you in a blue radiance. She was already casting a healing spell.

“Your friend, she… she was fighting a shadow creature, and it must have poisoned her,” the Harper that had carried you pressed between quivering lips. “We already sent someone to call for Isobel. She will know what to do.” As he met Astarion’s furious glimpse, he hastily added “They – they should be here any minute.”

Poison? Astarion wrinkled his nose. Indeed, your blood smelled different – somewhat tainted.

He focused his gaze back to you, suppressing the urge to slap that damned Harper straight across the face.

Instead of acting out this violent thought, he sank to his knees next to Shadowheart and carefully laid one hand on your cheek. You were burning hot and letting out ragged breaths between your cracked lips.

“I can cast my spells, but I am not versed in the toxins of the Dark”, Shadowheart declared with the most tensed look on her face, her magic still hovering over your body. “We need Isobel – fast.”

Another twist in Astarion’s chest. He racked his brain for a solution, his hand still held helplessly against your cheek. You were in need of healing, desperately, and more adept than Shadowheart could provide. His senses began to blur.

Through the pulsing sound of blood rushing through his ears he could only gather a few scraps of the enfolding conversation between the Harpers and the rest of your companions that had hurried to your aid.

It was enough to paint a picture of what happened to you: During your night watch, you had noticed a Harper being dragged away in the shadows and went immediately to his aid. With a few quick blows, you had managed to kill the attacking creature and save the unfortunate man from his demise, but for its final act it stroked you with its claw, leaving a deep scratch on your right arm – the source of the suspected poison that would flow through your veins.

Astarion bit the inside of his cheek, spilling blood. His mind was racing.

Of course you had gotten yourself in danger over saving someone else again.

In normal times, he would have loved to tease you for your foolish act of heroism and give you an “I told you so”, probably earning a defiant look from you while you would emphasise the importance of helping those in need.

Hells, he desired nothing more than to listen to your moralising if it meant that he could just hear your voice right now.

But instead of lecturing him on morality, you were still lying on your mattress, unmoving and probably on the verge of death, and he couldn’t think of a single way to rid you of this terrible state.

He felt numb. Useless. It made him sick.

A gut wrenching thought rushed over him.

What if you would die right now – just like that?

Before he could… Well, before he could do what exactly?

The image of your limp lifeless body with dead staring eyes entered his mind.

No. You didn’t deserve to die. You couldn’t die. Not like this. Not now, not ever, not from saving a goddamned Harper.

Then you whimpered.

Silent, almost inaudible, but enough to set Astarion ablaze.

The urge of punishing every single one who had dared to lead you to harm overcame him like a ruthless wave crashing shore. He wanted to cut open, to rip apart and to send everyone into eternal hell.

Fire took over his crimson eyes as he bared his fangs, the look of a predator on his pale face, ready to curse those wretched Harpers or worse, as another quiet sound spilled from your lips.

“As… Astar... ion…?”

He froze.

His name – spoken as gentle as a flicker of moonlight glistening through leaves. Not moaned in lust or used to denounce him in anger – just… him being called, in the most faintest way.

He felt his eyes wet before he even knew it, his mouth opened for a split second only to his lips pressing it shut again, forcing himself to blink before a single tear could make its way down his cheek.

You sounded so fragile. So ... in need of him.

“Asta...rion?”

His chest twisted again.

He wanted to whisper words of comfort to you, chanting them over and over like a prayer, assuring you that everything would be alright.

“Don’t speak,” he managed to breathe in a cracked voice. “I’m here, my sweet.”

Your eyes were still closed and moving fast underneath your lids. You spoke in a fever, and he could sense that you were in pain.

Astarion brushed a strand of hair off your sweaty brow, using just the tips of his slender fingers. A most careful touch, as if a hint of deeper force would break you.

Then, there was no more sound coming from you.

“Hells, where is that goddamned cleric? If she doesn’t arrive here any second, I’m going to drag her over myself-” Astarion’s voice was nothing more than a helpless plea. He sounded way less threatening than he had wished for, almost spilling those tears he had to hold back, and seconds before bursting if there would be no aid for you right now.

“No need to shout, my friend. I’m right here.”

Isobel. Finally.

A fire in his stomach again.

How dared she sound so calm, considering your condition?

With haste, Isobel knelt between him and Shadowheart and opened her pouch, revealing a set of different sized bottles. She began to examine you with concentration, lifting your eyelids to look at your pupils, checking your vitals and thoroughly inspecting the wound the monster had inflicted on you.

Astarion gritted his teeth in anticipation, a thick lump forming in his throat.

“Will she be alright?” he eventually demanded, his voice cracking like a violin out of tune, but Isobel ignored him and silently continued her treatment.

“Astarion, I’m worried about her too, but I think we shouldn’t disturb Isobel right now,” Wyll interfered softly and squeezed his shoulder.

Taken aback, Astarion pressed his lips together. Of course Wyll would be the voice of reason in a situation like this, but unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. Isobel was the most profound healer available, an expert on the shadow creatures - and unlike himself, she offered the possibility to save you.

“As I thought,” Isobel mumbled after a minute that had felt like eternity and opened one of her potions with a loud plop. “She will need this.”

She then put her thumb on your chin, carefully opening your mouth and pouring in a dark liquid, before she continued to clear your wound.

Astarion eagerly watched her hands treating you with expertise, still not laying his gaze off you.

“I gave her a powerful antidote,” Isobel began to explain calmly as she spread a colourless balm on your torn flesh. “Such poison needs fast treatment. Fortunately, if dealt with in time, it can still be cured. I’m glad I was able to aid your dear friend before it made its way through her entire body. Otherwise… It most likely would have been fatal.”

Astarion’s muscles tightened and his stomach turned. You almost died tonight.

Isobel seemed to notice his tension, so she quickly added “With this antidote, she will be completely fine in the morning. Her fever might continue through the night, but I promise that there is no more reason for concern.”

“Are you completely sure of that, Isobel?” Shadowheart asked, seeking out reassurance that the treatment truly had succeeded.

“I swear by Selune, she is not at risk anymore. The antidote freed her from the poison and the balm will heal her wound,” the cleric responded confidently. “Her body will do the rest.”

The tight, dark blanket that had wrapped around Astarion’s chest began to loosen up.

“I… I’m glad that she’ll be alright,” was all he managed to vocalise as the adrenaline slowly faded from his body.

“Thank you, Isobel,” added Gale, who had been nervously walking up and down your tent as Isobel had tended to your condition.

Even Shadowheart, a devoted follower of Lady Shar, spared a few words of gratitude towards the cleric following her sworn enemy’s beliefs.

A general sense of ease took over from the strained atmosphere that had prevailed just a moment ago.

“She needs rest and quiet now,” Isobel claimed and gave a telling look to your companions and the assembly of Harpers that gathered around your tent.

An unspoken demand that it was time to give you some space now.

“I will stay with her,” Astarion announced to Shadowheart and the remaining group after Isobel and the Harpers had left for the Last Light Inn. There had been a quick discussion if you should have been brought with them, but eventually it was decided that you were more safe in your own bedroll than being dragged through the shadow infested lands again.

“Are you sure, Astarion? I’d be more than glad to watch over her myself,” Shadowheart responded, not hiding her surprise over his proposition.

Even if Astarion wasn’t sure about anything in particular right now, he felt the pressing need to remain by your side until you would open your eyes again, ensuring that Isobel had spoken the truth and the threat had passed.

“Well, I won’t be able to get some more rest tonight anyway, so I might as well just stay over here,” he attempted in a more indifferent manner. “Besides, her tent is by far the most comfortable one our excuse for a camp has to offer, and I’m looking forward to indulging in some peace and quiet after all of this night's terrible trouble.”

Karlach listened to his explanation in slight amusement and gave him a supporting nod. Liar, her smiling face said.

“Well, if you’re sure, and there are no objections… Then it’s fine with me, I suppose,” Shadowheart replied with a raised eyebrow. “But promise to shout for me if something’s the matter, will you?”

“Gods, would you please give me some credit here, you mother hen. I got this,” Astarion said and rolled his eyes. On the inside, he was still shaken up, and he could only hope that the slight pitch in his voice wouldn’t give him away. “So hush hush everyone, off you go now. Get in some beauty sleep, as you all are evidently in need of it.”

“Chk!” Lae’zel interfered in the most angry whisper she could muster. “Leave Astarion to look after her for the night if he insists. I’m certain he knows the fate that will await him should she come to harm under his supervision.” Lae’zel’s very own way to express that she came to care about you.

“Charming as ever,” Astarion replied at this implicit threat, still holding no intention to move merely an inch from his spot next to your bedroll.

“You see, Shadowheart? There seems to be no need to worry about our dearest friend,” Gale added with a slight chuckle. “I suppose she’ll be in good hands for tonight.”

Shadowheart let out a grunt and readied herself to leave with the others, but not before she would lay one last gaze on you, ensuring that you had not gotten any worse over the last few minutes.

Astarion watched your chest rise and fall in a soothing rhythm.

What a mess this night had been.

From the moment the Harpers had brought you in it had been like a heavy weight violently crushing his chest over and over, turning him into an angry, scared wreck, and the pressure only began to wear off by now.

Realistically, he knew that you were safe and the danger had passed. But then, why was there such an uneasiness lingering on him?

He had been scared in his life before, probably more times than he could recall, and yet… The fear over losing you tonight had shifted something in him.

You had called for him in your feverish delirium, as you were lying helpless and in pain.

It was an image hard to shake off.

Astarion sighed, when he noticed that you were still in your armour. There was no way in Hell he would let you sleep in this reeking dirt-covered piece of cloth, so his dexterous fingers began to peel it off, piece by piece. Carefully not to wake you, he stored your armour aside, until you were lying in your undergarment. Then he took your blanket and wrapped it around you.

With another gentle motion, he let his finger stroke along your brow, brushing over the dampness of your skin. You were still feeling hot.

His nose wrinkled as he pulled down his sleeve to cautiously wipe your sweat away. There was no need to get up to fetch some extra cloth, and he would be perfectly capable of cleaning his shirt the next morning.

For a while, Astarion would just watch over you, mustering your relaxed face and ensuring that your breathing continued steadily. You seemed to be in a calm sleep, still feverish, but evidently better looking than the moment you had been brought in.

The next morning came to his mind. Perhaps he might attempt to prepare your favourite food for you, a simple but apparently very delicious berry porridge. Not that he had any particular experience on the matter, since his culinary needs were restricted to blood these days, but if someone like Gale was able to cook it, he surely would be too. Maybe he would surprise you with the dog or the owlbear for some morning snuggling in bed, as you seemed to never spend a single day without indulging in some pets on your journey. Well, he probably should bring in both. Oh how delighted you would be, waking up to these furry little beasts, he thought with a grin.

Then it hit him.

Shit.

His nice, simple plan with you had truly and utterly fallen apart.

What should have been nothing more than an insurance for his safety, a way to rid himself of the tadpole in his brain and offer him a powerful ally to face Cazador some day, had developed into something he never experienced before.

He genuinely cared about you - more than he thought himself to be capable of. You had become most precious to him, and he felt the urgent need to be honest with you.

You were incredible, and you didn’t deserve to be lured into a selfish alliance.

You deserved something real.

He wanted things between you to be something real - even if he didn’t know what real looked like. After all, charming and deceiving others was the only way he had ever known. Forming a sincere connection and being close with someone posed an entirely new and remarkably scary sensation. But maybe, with you…

Your faint voice brought him back from his thoughts.

“Asta...rion?”

His face softened, not as an act of will, more like a reflex.

You looked at him with half-open eyes, sounding still a little weak.

He bowed his head closer to you and spoke softly, letting his thumb brush gently over your cheek.

"There you are, my little fool. Getting ourselves in trouble over our constant need to do something heroic again, weren’t we?”

“Mh… Is that so?” you asked in a raspy voice, offering a weak smile through glistening eyes underlined with dark circles, your hair pressed damp to your skull. “And you saved me, I suppose?”

Astarion’s heart grew tight with adoration. To him, you had never looked more beautiful.

“I’m afraid not, my dear. Actually, you have been poisoned by a shadow creature, so you were in need of a more adept healer. Isobel treated you.”

“Mhm.. How bad was it?”

He thought for a moment, the fear he had felt rushing over him for a split second and piercing his chest like ice.

"Well, not as bad as it could have. I’ll spare you the details for tomorrow.”

“That’s… good.” You hummed, sounding drowsy and still a little feverish. Then, you gave a soft plea. “Astarion… Would you… stay with me tonight?”

There it was again, a pull at his heartstrings.

Gods, you wicked little thing.

“Of course, my darling. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

A promise, unimaginable honest had it been another time, with another person, but this was now, and this was you.

He gave another gentle press to your hand, carefully intertwining your fingers with his, as if to underline his words.

"Thank you,” you whispered, eyes closed for a second before you let your gaze meet his again. Another quiet mumble. "Could you... hold me please?"

Astarion was overwhelmed by your vulnerability for a second. He wanted nothing more than to provide you comfort, to make you feel safe, but didn't know if he should give in. Even though you had often shared your bedroll these days, this somehow felt more open, more intimate.

Before he realised what he was doing, he swiftly lifted off your blanket to slip underneath and laid his arm around your waist, pulling you in close.

He could feel your hand on his chest. Your head gently resting on his shoulder, fingers loosely clutching around the end of his collar. Your warm body against his cold.

Astarion let his fingers gently caressing the small of your back.

You were breathing steady, already seeming to doze off again. A soothing calmness came over him.

“I hope… I didn’t worry you too much,” you mumbled, more asleep than awake.

Astarion bit his lip.

“Well…” he said and cleared his throat. “I managed.” A complete understatement of events, but this was also a confession for another day. “Rest now, my love.”

Astarion continued to gently stroke your back, his lips turning into an affectionate smile. He never thought his heart to be this full over the failure of such a simple plan.

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