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lovebugism · 2 years

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Virgin!Eddie thoughts?

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | quid pro quo

summary: eddie muson is a virgin and doesn't want anyone to know (because being an adult who's never fucked anyone is a total reputation ruiner). but you, his favorite customer, are more than willing to change that. pairing: eddie munson / f!reader word count: 6.5k (holy shit this was supposed to be a blurb) warnings: talks of virginity and masturbation, the word "tit" too many times, a handjob (sorta?) 18+ mdni a/n: you asked for thoughts but i had way too many of them for a single post so i might turn this into a whole virgin!eddie series that will only see the light of day if you guys are into this so... no pressure <3

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You were Eddie’s favorite customer, though that went without saying. It was something both of you were more than aware of. Albeit it, it was a little strange, since he — the supplier of your weed — was essentially paying for your high. He doesn’t mind it, though. He never did. You made it up for him in other ways; and, no, it’s not as perverted as it sounds.

It’s actually much, much weirder.

It was your fourth time meeting with him but your first time without any money to give him in exchange. You’re all pink and fidgeting and feeling like a total loser as you shift on the hard wooden bench across from him.

Your gaze is tilted away from his and down at your hands where you twist the rings on your fingers — “I was supposed to get paid last Friday, but my boss is paying me weekly now instead of every two weeks, so he completely changed my payday on me, and he swears he told me about it, but he totally didn’t— anyway, that’s beside the point. I don’t have any money to give you, or like, at all. Genuinely. I’m gonna be lucky if I get to eat anything other than top ramen for the next few days.”

“Damn,” he laughs, not in amusement at your situation but rather pitying you for it. “That sucks—”

“That sounds like I’m guilt-tripping you, doesn’t it?” you keep rambling. “I’m really not. I’m just trying to be honest. I’m not, like, trying to do you over or anything. I swear. You probably don’t even care. You’re my drug dealer, not my friend, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't— I’m making a total fool out of myself, aren’t I?”

“No, not at all,” Eddie assures sincerely, the hint of a smile curling at the corner of his lips. That’s all he can muster. He feels like the fool right about now because your words sting a little harder than intended.

He always considered you a friend. Or, at least, a whole lot more than just a client. You’re the only customer he has fun with, who he can laugh with, who doesn’t just hang around long enough for him to hand you your drugs like everyone else does, who actually cares enough to make conversation with him.

Maybe that’s why he chose to give it to you for free that day.

Because he’s started to grow fond of you (and because he genuinely believes that you’re in a bad way and that money’s a little too tight for you right now. He knows all too well what that’s like.)

But he asks you for a favor in return when you take the plastic baggie from him. It has him blushing with embarrassment like you’d been just minutes before. He can’t meet your gaze as he says the words, but he can feel the incredulous beam of it piercing holes into him.

“You, Eddie Munson, are willing to give me weed, for free, as long as I… help you pass your next English exam?”

You weren’t repeating it to mock him or to make him feel bad for being a third-year senior. You’re just actually shocked because you know a thing or two about the Munson’s. You know that his Uncle is working two jobs, and his nephew has resorted to drug dealing to compensate for their being strapped for cash. You also know that suppliers giving out anything for free is bad for business, so it’s essentially unheard of.

And aside from all that, Eddie wanting to study — to want to try to be good at something rather than just winging it and hoping for the best — was almost as surprising as him wanting you to be the one to help him. You literally have Gareth, his best friend, in your English class, and he’s way better at it than you are.

You try to find what makes you somehow special but come up short.

“Is that, like, really weird?” he wonders meekly, scrunching his nose and peering at you through his lashes. His eyes are the color of chocolate syrup, you notice then. Like, exactly. And they have a sort of sheen to them beneath the sun, like he's trapped a star inside of them.

“Yes,” you answer with a laugh that's as light as air. “Considering you could’ve offered literally anything else. Like, I don’t know— groping my tits or something.”

It’s what you were half-expecting. Not because you thought Eddie was that kind of guy, but because that’s how it often went down, at least in porn. A busty (broke) blonde orders a pizza, a man with an enormous dick delivers it… It’s a tale as old as time, really.

Your words make him tense for the second time in five minutes.

He almost wants to be offended that you’d think of him that way, but his yearning far overpowers his wounded ego.

He’s got a soft heart. That offer never would’ve crossed his mind, and even if it did, he’d never be stupid enough to say it out loud. But he didn’t realize how much he liked you until right then. It wasn’t just a friend caring for another friend, but a boy with a crush on a girl eons out of his league (with boobs he would happily touch if she’d let him).

He clears his throat and irrationally prays that you aren’t a mind reader.

“I’m down if you are,” he answers with a playful lilt to his voice that makes you giggle again. He’s happy to hear it. Your laugh is like being basked in sunshine. He wants to keep it in his pocket when he gets lost in the shade.

That’s the moment that started it all — the strange friendship that formed out of practically nothing. Who knew what being poor, free weed, an historically low GPA, and a missed opportunity for tit-groping could do to two people?

From then on, all your weed was free. As long as you broke down all the themes in Of Mice and Men for him, of course. And then, when he ultimately aced that paper, he wanted to run his D&D campaign by you — “So, you know, it isn’t totally lame when I show it to the rest of Hellfire.”

“Of course, it’s gonna be lame,” you deadpan from across the rotting bench. “It’s Dungeons and Dragons.”

He goes red at that, a flash of pink blotched around his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He glows cherry with embarrassment and smiles faintly as he looks down at his hand, fidgeting with his silver skull ring. It’s cute. Too cute. The kind of cute that makes you grin to yourself without even thinking about it.

“I’m kidding, Eds—”

Eds. That was new, the boy remarks to himself. Not the nickname itself, perhaps, but the fact that you were the one calling him by it. You’re getting more comfortable with him. He likes that. It gives him a false hope; that one day he’ll be a friend to you and not just your dealer.

“—It sounds really fun actually,” you assure him with nod and a twinkling gaze that proves you sincere. “As long as you’ll smoke with me during.”

“I don’t really like to use my own product…” That was a lie. Mostly. He didn’t like to smoke his own stuff because that burned a hole into his profits. But that didn’t mean he didn’t do it. It was far too tempting to have a tin full of so much weed never more than just a few inches away.

Now he’s got a pretty girl in front of him, wanting to smoke with him, wanting to spend time with him. Hell’s freezing over as they speak and that certainly calls for a celebratory smoke session.

A smirk pulls at his pink lips and he tilts his head, bringing his ear to his shoulder, as he looks at you with a glimmering umber gaze.

“But I’m willing to make an exception. Just for you.”

Eddie swears you blush at that, but he catches only the shortest glimpse of your crimson cheeks before you duck your gaze to the table. The beam on your face is only half-washed away, however, when you turn up to look at him again. You look shy, almost, as you peer at him through your lashes.

“You’ll basically have to start from scratch too, you know that, right? I don’t know anything about that shit.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be your first,” he quips.

You laugh again. It’s like the pinky-orange of a sunset. He could paint it if he had the right supplies. And a set of hands that were good for things other than rolling die and playing guitar.

It was his first time, really. In every aspect of the phrase.

It was the first time a girl’s ever offered to hang out with him and not the other way around. The first time a customer’s ever offered to share their weed with him. The first time someone’s ever wanted him to explain his favorite hobby and not care that he’s been rambling for the better part of an hour.

He doesn’t even notice that he hasn’t shut up since he started talking, mostly because you aren’t giving him that look of annoyance people usually have when he hasn’t gotten the hint. Most couldn’t care less about goblins and villains and battles and knights and princesses — princess knights.

It’s more interesting than you ever hoped a board game could be, but less so as enchanting as the glow Eddie’s got about him as he rambles on and on about something that makes him so happy.

He’s beaming and he doesn’t even realize it. He has no idea he could light up an entire solar system with the smile on his face. You’d tell him if it didn’t feel totally inappropriate.

It takes two weeks to perfect the campaign, which isn’t at all long if you compare it to the year it took him to build it from scratch. When the Cult of Vecna (you pat yourself on the back for coming up with the name) is polished and Hellfire worthy, Eddie starts giving you weed... just because.

There’s nothing left for him to offer in exchange. And he isn’t going to turn his favorite customer down for anything.

“What? No tutoring? No D&D campaign?” you wonder with furrowed brows and a face contorted in confusion.

Eddie shrugs and swings the baggie full of greenery back and forth with the tip of his pointed finger. “Nope. I’m passing English and the campaign’s all finished — the guys love it, by the way. Thanks to you. You’ve helped me out with enough shit, so… just take it.”

“Well, now I just feel bad,” you reject with a scrunched nose, displeased at the idea of taking something and not doing anything for it in return. He can hardly afford it to begin with, much less without anything in exchange. “You're basically paying for my weed already. I can’t just take it.”

“You could,” the boy lilts with a sardonic nod. “My hand's getting a little tired here, sweetheart.”

You huff and reach across the bench for the plastic baggie. Your face is still twisted with an absentminded annoyance and your gaze still uncertain. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah. Cross my heart.”

“Fine.”

“Unless groping your tits is still on the table, of course,” he squints playfully over at you and then smiles softly at the recollection of the conversation from many moons ago.

It was supposed to be a joke. But you’re not laughing.

And when you nod at him, he isn’t either.

It’s got him nearly choking on air and sputtering for a response. “No, I was— I was just— It was a joke. I was just kidding.”

“I know. But, I don’t know, I’m down if you are,” you shrug. “That’s what you said before, right?”

And Eddie has no idea what to say to that. Of course, he wants to. There are a billion things he wants to do. He wants to graduate, he wants to play a show at the Madison Square Garden with Corroded Coffin, he wants to bend you over this table and fuck you silly.

He could do all those things if he were a different person, but he wasn’t. He’s just some guy who can’t pass an English class he's already taken three times, with a mediocre band that plays in front of about five drunks (if they’re lucky), who has a crush on a girl who’s offering to let him feel her up for a short-lived high.

He repeats that last part to himself in his head a couple times. It sounds like a dream he had once. He pinches the skin of his wrist, just to make sure, and winces when it starts to hurt.

It’s real, you’re real, and that’s the scariest part.

Because he’s never actually seen boobs that weren’t projected from a television screen through the grainy film of a VHS tape, or pictured in a crinkled magazine he stole from a gas station — let alone touched one. And the second he puts his hands on you, and you feel him shaking like a leaf and totally unsure of what to do, you’ll know that.

That is, if he doesn’t come in his pants first.

He’s terrified that when you do realize that he’s a complete and utter, absolute and proper virgin, you’ll think he’s significantly less cool. And he can’t have that.

It’s bad for clientele. They’ll stop seeing him as the mysterious metalhead from the wrong side of the tracks but rather as some teddy bear who’s never actually been inside a woman.

He could probably handle the potential drop in income and the talks around school. Hell, he could even handle all the shit Jason Carver would spew at him if he knew. But the idea that you’ll stop wanting to hang out with him — he isn’t sure if he could take that.

He doesn’t notice that he hasn’t said a word until you’re speaking again. And even then, it’s all muffled like he’s underwater.

“I can come over tonight, if you want.”

No, he thinks to himself. That’s far too early. I have to lose my virginity and learn everything there is to possibly know about sex first.

“I... I can’t. Hellfire,” he answers, almost slurring, still caught in a stupor.

“Tomorrow, then,” you challenge at his rejection. You cross your arms and lean over the table as you squint at him. The wind rustling through the trees carries the warmth of your floral-vanilla scent over to him, like a lullaby, or a magic spell.

As though he needed something else to make him all stupid.

Suddenly you're ten feet tall. Eddie feels like an ant. You could crush him if you wanted. You have all the power and the look you give him tells him that you know that. He fidgets on the hard wooden seat but can’t seem to break your stare. His voice is tight and a few octaves higher as he answers — “Yeah. Tomorrow sounds good. Great, even.”

“Cool,” you’re suddenly beaming. You stand from the bench and saunter off, tossing a look and a wave over your shoulder as you shout, “See you tomorrow, Eds!”

He has to jerk off after that one. He counts himself lucky that he made it to his van before he exploded completely.

Eddie has to become a sex god in twenty-four hours and he doesn’t know where to start.

So, like any master procrastinator, he doesn’t. He just worries about it all night and the following day. He turns himself into a big ball of anxiety (if you touched him, he'd probably shock you) and it’s left him in the sort of worry that doesn’t let him sit still for too long.

Wayne’s sitting in his recliner, trying to eat his late lunch before he heads off to work the graveyard shift. It’s hard to enjoy his sandwich or the latest episode of Miami Vice playing on the television ahead of him when his nephew keeps bouncing in and out of the room. Making brief conversation, rearranging the knickknacks on the coffee table, coming in just to stand in place for a few minutes before leaving again to rustle in other parts of the small trailer.

At one point, he comes in with the fucking vacuum and nudges at the man’s work boots until he kicks his feet up. Wayne’s never seen him do a chore in his life.

“What the hell has gotten into you today, boy?” the man complains through turkey, cheese, and bread.

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m perfectly normal.”

He’s never been normal a day in his life either.

Eddie disappears out of the room a second later with the whirring of the vacuum in tow. Wayne shakes his head to himself. “Boy’s gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles and takes another too large bite.

It’s unlike Eddie not to tell his uncle things, especially things weighing so heavy on his chest that they're starting to feel like pure steel. But his uncle doesn’t ask any questions, and Eddie’s grateful.

How the hell is he supposed to tell Wayne that a cute girl is coming over and that he’s jacked off three times at the thought of her?

Once in his bed, the first thing he did that day when he woke up from a dream about you that felt a little too real; the second in the shower when the cold water wouldn’t kill the boner he’d gotten; and the third in his bedroom, in the shirt he’d peeled off hardly ten minutes beforehand when he got into a bath. It made him feel dirty again though his skin was perfectly clean.

Wayne would think he was joking. At least with the “cute girl” part. He’d probably pat him on the back for the second one — “oh, to be young again,” he'd mumble to himself while simultaneously deciding to leave well enough alone.

Eddie’s so nervous he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

You’ve got him practicing what to do in the mirror, trying to plan the conversation, ironing out the wrinkles of what might happen. “Hi—” he starts but then shakes his head and clears his throat. His voice is deeper as he continues, “Hey, how are you doing? Oh, that’s cool, I’m good too— shit, this is so fucking lame.”

He wonders how you’ll go about it. If you’ll offer first, or if he needs to ask. If you’ll make small talk or if you’ll just straight up take off your shirt. He’d take either, honestly.

He jerks off one more time, just for good measure, after Wayne’s left for work. He’s already tired and his dick is practically raw with how much it’s been tugged at, but he hopes it’ll stop him from getting hard the second you walk through the door. And he figures with the amount he’s come that day, he’s a whole less likely to do it in his pants when he touches you.

You knock on the door at 7 o’clock sharp, like you planned it down to the minute.

He straightens out his leather jacket when he stands abruptly from the couch. He rushes to the door and then hesitates with his hand on the rusted brass handle — because he doesn’t want to seem too eager, right?

He leans to the side to look in the dirty glass mirror hanging by the coat rack, brushing through his curly locks in attempts to tame them. Then he shakes his head so they’re wild again.

He finds you standing on his porch in a tight-black sweater that dips down at your chest; the pendant of your necklace sparkles under the yellow nightlight perched on the outside wall. It’s paired with a white nylon skirt that stops at your thigh.

He’s only seen girls on TV in the suede boots you’re wearing — the kind that’s tight up to your ankle with a short and chunky heel. They match the color of your skirt. He wonders if they were expensive and how much you’ve worn them; they look brand new, like you’ve brought them down from the top of your closet just for him.

You’ve got a stack of thick tapes in one hand and a brown paper bag of snacks in the other.

“What… What’s all this?” he wonders, not displeased at your effort but shocked by it nonetheless.

“Thought we could have a movie night,” you shrug then slide by him and into the trailer. He shuts the door behind you and watches from afar as you set the sack down. It’s not quite flat on the bottom so it topples over and spills some of its content onto the coffee table — red hot chips and sour gummy worms.

“You mentioned that you’d never seen Fast Times a couple weeks ago, so I decided to go rent a copy at Family Video, right? And then I started talking to Robin and she started showing me all the new movies that just came in, so I got a little carried away—”

You're rambling, he notices, almost like you’re nervous.

It makes him feel slightly better, knowing this obviously wasn’t your first time hanging out with a guy (or being touched by one, if he ever got to that part), but that you were nervous nonetheless. Like you wanted this — whatever this was — to go well just as much as he did.

Eddie puts the tape into the VHS player when you’re headed back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn in hand. You sit it on the table before plopping yourself in the middle of the couch — the boy across the living room has no idea you spent the two-and-a-half minutes it took to cook the snack debating on where to sit.

You feared sitting too far on one side might spook him from sitting next to you, that he’d think you didn’t want to sit next to him. So you place yourself snuggly in the middle of the decade-old sofa and hope you don’t seem too eager.

Your heart sinks to your ass when Eddie sits so far on the edge he’s practically sitting on the arm of it.

You muster a smile and try to make a joke of it. “I don’t have cooties or anything, Eds.”

“Promise?” he lilts. The way his voice shakes is purely for comedic effect. Obviously.

“Cross my heart.”

He hopes that by playing it off, you won’t notice how anxious he is about sitting next to you. But when he plants himself beside you, just close enough so that the rough fabric of his jeans scratches your knee every time he fidgets, it’s a little like sitting next to a rock. You spend the first half of the movie wondering if he’s nervous too or if he really just didn’t want to sit this close to you.

The film keeps playing and he keeps snacking — eating chips and Oreos and popcorn in a rotation before combining all three and marveling at the taste; “You’ve got to try this!” he exclaims to you with raised brows and wide eyes. He eventually forgets to be nervous.

That is, until Fast Times hits 53 minutes and 5 seconds.

The smooth bass of Moving in Stereo plays lowly in the background as Phoebe Cates rises from the pool water, clad in a small red bikini. The chlorine-laced drops of water glisten off of her tanned skin. “Hi, Brad. You know how cute I always thought you were,” you quote quietly along with her.

Your eyes are as glued to the television as Eddie’s when she starts to unlatch her top, like it’s the first time you’re seeing it too. You joked to Robin once that you couldn't wait until they made this movie in 3D.

Eddie gets hard as a rock, then. In every sense of the phrase.

“She’s hot, right?” you ask him.

“Yeah,” he answers. He clears his throat when the word comes out too tight. “Totally.”

“That’s how I knew Robin was gay, you know? We watched this when I slept over at her house one time and I woke up in the middle of the night and found her playing this scene over and over again,” you confess with a laugh and hope your best friend won’t be too angry you told him this. “She was sitting, like, two inches away from the screen.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. And when we made out afterward, that really sealed the deal—”

“Holy shit—” he sputters before he can stop it. “—Are you joking?”

Please, say yes before I come in my jeans, he thinks to himself.

“Why?” you challenge, shooting him an arched brow over your shoulder. “Does that change anything?”

“What? No! Of— Of course not!” It just makes you, like, ten times fucking hotter, that’s all.

“Good,” you nod and then turn back to the television. You move on quickly, and Eddie’s grateful. You keep telling the story like it’s one you tell all your friends.

“I asked her why she was watching it without me, and she said she got bored, but I already knew why she was watching it, you know? I guess I just wanted to hear her say it. So I just came out with it — ‘If you want to look at a pair of tits, I’m literally right here.’”

Eddie’s so entranced by your words it’s like you're telling him a bedtime story. He’s looking at you so intently, his gaze locked to your profile like he’s trying to commit it to memory. And when you finally turn to look at him again, he can’t seem to turn away, to even pretend like he wasn’t just hopelessly staring at you.

“So, then it became this whole thing, right? Like, I’ll show mine if you show yours. And then she got all awkward and nervous and lost in her head, kinda like you right now, and then I leaned in…” you trail off quietly, doing it in time as the words leave your mouth. So teasingly and breathtakingly slow. Eddie finds himself drifting closer to you, too, like a bayman to a siren’s call. “Just like this… And then I—”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence.

Eddie’s already kissing you before he realizes what he’s doing. Your noses knock together, the tip of his crushed against the side of yours. The sweet flavor of your strawberry chapstick evades his mouth when your lips press together.

He’s as shocked as you are.

He’s wanted to kiss many pretty girls in his life, but this was the first time he's actually ever done it.

You feel his face burn red against you when he realizes what he’s just done. He tries to pull away from you, but you keep him there with a hand on the back of his head; deepening the kiss and telling him that you want this — that you’ve always wanted this — without actually saying the words.

Refusing to separate from him, you maneuver yourself to face him more as press yourself against his side and tuck your knees beneath you. You caress the rough pad of his tongue with yours all the while, one hand balled in the shoulder of his t-shirt and the other anchoring itself to his curls.

You wait patiently for him to take action. To grip your waist. To lay you back on the couch. To climb over you and take what’s his.

He never does.

He hardly even touches you. He’s got one palm on your hip, but it’s so featherlight that it’s barely even there. His other hand is clutching the pillow on his lap with a white-knuckled grip, like he’s fighting to contain himself in some way. But you want him to let go. To lose himself with you.

The cushion had been there for most of the movie, something to keep in his absentminded hold and get crumbs all over. You wonder, now, if it’s a shield for something else.

Your lips click wetly when you part from him. A small smile forms on your mouth when you notice a string of spit threatening to connect the both of you. It breaks apart, landing cold below your mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your hand.

“Are you hard?”’ you wonder through bated breaths, coming right and just saying it.

Eddie’s eyes go somehow wider and his mouth falls agape. “Uh… No?”

Giggling, you ask, “Is that a question?”

“Maybe.”

“So what’s the answer?” you pry.

“Honestly?” he starts with a heavy breath and heavier eyes, still trying to joke. “Whatever makes me sound super cool and mysterious and sexy.”

“I’ve always thought you were all those things,” you confess with a soft laugh, twisting a strand of his hair with the tip of your finger.

“…Really?” he can’t help but wonder. Those words are about the most shocking thing that’s happened so far this evening.

“Yeah,” you nod, then tease: “Because you've never lied to me.”

So tell me the truth, he can hear the words jumbling around in your head. So does. He swallows thickly and then admits, voice cracking halfway through his confession, “I’m so hard that it fucking hurts, sweetheart.”

You’re smiling like the Chesire Cat at that, big and sly and mischievous. You have all the power and you know it.

“Can I make you feel better?” you whisper to him, lilting like you're taunting him. You mean it, though, and he knows that because you’re already tugging at the pillow in his lap. You don’t fight to snatch it away completely. You leave just enough room to allow him to say no. But his grip on the thing relaxes and allows you to slide the cushion slowly from his crotch.

He can’t say the words because his tongue is suddenly heavy in his mouth and his throat is closing on him. So he just nods, peering at you with eyes hooded with ecstasy.

You go back to kissing him, then, unhurriedly this time. You allow yourself to feel all of him, to hold his face in your hands and explore all the bits of him you never got the chance to before now. You do it more so in an effort to get him to relax, to forget to be nervous, but it only half-works.

He gets more comfortable with himself with time. The hand on your waist finds a more confident purchase there and the other climbs up to your face, cradling your jaw while his ringed fingers get lost in the strands of your hair. Then he starts to kiss you back harder, more earnestly than before, like he’s trying to prove something. Trying to tell you everything like this than with words he can’t seem to say out loud.

He forgets to be nervous again when your lips fit together like pieces of a puzzle — the kind with the funky edges, the kind you know goes together because there’s only two in the whole bunch like it. He stops worrying if he’s doing it right.

His breath is warm and heavy as it fans against your cupid’s bow. He’d rather take in small pieces of oxygen like this than stop kissing you now. You feel the same way as you straddle his thigh, careful not to move with too much haste that it knocks your lips apart.

Eddie’s legs part for you on instinct. When you settle more comfortably against him, he can feel the warmth radiating between your thighs through the thick fabric of his jeans. He wishes he was naked right now, more so that you were, so he can feel all of you, bare against his skin.

But he takes what he can get for now. And tries not to burst completely at the thought that the only thing separating you from him was the thin layer of your cotton underwear.

It’s hard not to think about your own pleasure like this. You could so easily move your hips against his thigh, let the rugged fabric of his jeans and your panties do all the work against your clit and bring you to a swift release. You want to. You’re sure Eddie would want you to if you asked him. But it strangely seems less important now.

Because you know you’re minutes away from making Eddie come so hard his legs shake. And you always wanted to know what he looked like when he came.

Your hand worms out of his hair and down his neck. Your fingernails trail lightly over his skin, leaving visible chill bumps in their wake. Your palm falls down his chest and stomach, smooth like drops of summer rain. The print of his Def Leppard tee is rough and cracked with age. You wonder how long he’s had it, how often he’s worn it, as your hand settles again. This time on his belt.

For a split second, he’s anxious about you seeing his dick. What if you think it’s too small? He thinks to himself. What if you think it’s too ugly? But then he realizes you’re not even trying to take off his jeans. You just rest your palm over the rough material of the denim and grip him through it.

A groan crawls up his throat and out of his mouth. His head falls backward and lands against the back of the couch.

He’s bigger than you thought, and warm against the tender skin of your hand, even through his boxers and his pants. It’d be ever warmer if you were feeling the real thing, you discern, but you figure you’ll save that for another time. Because even though it’s not the real thing and there are so many layers separating your fingers from his cock, Eddie’s letting out small and breathy moans that tell you that you’re touching him just right. The more you squeeze, the louder he gets.

“Is this okay?” you whisper to him.

“Are you kidding?” he retorts with a breathless laugh. “I feel like I’m in heaven right now.”

“Just wait until you come,” you giggle. It makes him moan again. His eyes fall shut because he knows he’s moments away from feeling what it’s like — not to come, obviously, but for it to be from your hand and not his.

You massage him through his jeans, feeling him grow somehow harder with each caress of your fingers. Peering down at him, you can see his jaw clenching, the way it moves his temples, and the muscles in his neck straining as he climbs the peak of pleasure.

“If you think this feels good now, just wait until you're inside me,” you purr to him.

“Oh, fuck,” he drawls shakily at your words. He doesn’t know if you’re being serious or not. He wants so much to believe that it’s a promise, though. The idea that he could unbuckle his belt right now, free his cock from its restraints and slip your panties to the side and take you, just like this, with you on top of him and riding him for all he’s worth, that nearly does him in.

But he’s fighting to keep it at bay. To let this moment last as long as he can. Because it’s entirely likely that he’ll come and you’ll never want to do this again. It’s even more likely that he’ll wake up from this way too vivid fantasy he’s concocted in his brain. How good can dreams get until they’re nightmares again?

The hand on your hip darts to wrap around your wrist.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him, gaze sober and sincere.

Eddie breathes out a tremble sigh of relief when you slow your motions against him. “I just…” he breathes heavily. And swallows. “I really don’t want to come in my jeans.”

You’re smiling again at that, pleased at how good you're making him feel. Like the pleasure is foreign to him. He can feel your grin as you lean down to kiss him. It’s a chaste peck, like you're just sprinkling yourself there so it can linger the rest of the night.

Your kiss is far more fervent against his neck, wetter and more passionate. His skin has a faint taste of salt, like he’d been sweating. And he was, for the entire day that he anticipated your arrival, though there was never an ounce of him expecting this. You bite at the strained tendon and marvel as he shudders beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you leave your promise against his skin. “I’ll wash them for you after. Like a good little housewife—”

It was a joke and he knows it because you’re laughing at the absurdity of your words, at the reality of them. You’re probably the only person in the world giving your drug dealer a handjob for free weed and then offering to wash his damp bottoms when he comes in them — calling yourself his fucking housewife. But, for a reason he can’t explain, that’s what gets him.

Not marrying you, perhaps, but the idea that he could have this feeling forever. That you could bring him to complete and utter, blinding bliss and then take care of him while he comes back to earth.

You give him an especially tough squeeze that sends a moan spilling roughly from his throat. His hips jerk up to their own according, his thigh jamming into your clothed pussy — he swears he hears you moan — and his toes curl in his boots.

He doesn’t let go of your hand as he comes. He grasps your wrist and presses you further against him. His grip is almost too tight but you don’t mind it, not when you can feel the denim growing damp with the evidence of his orgasm.

Eddie doesn’t feel anything for a while after that. It’s just pure pleasure for several long moments. The fuzziness of his climax, your hand pressed against him, your warmth still pressed against his thigh.

But then the high fades away like a rolling summer cloud and he starts to feel the wet patch forming in his clothes. The fabric of his thin boxer starts to stick to him and he almost feels gross, like he’s a teenager again who can’t so much as look at a woman with needing to come.

But then he sees the way you look at him, grinning like a cat who got the cream — because, in some ways, you are. You look like you're proud of him. Like you’re secretly wondering how many times you can do that before it’s too much. He wants to find out too.

You plant another kiss to his lips. Just because you can.

“Take your pants off, Munson,” you mumble against his mouth, kissing him one more time for good measure before pulling away again.

“Oh— shit— wait, really?” he sputters. “I thought you were joking about— about me being… I— I don’t know if I have any condoms.”

He totally does, in an unopened box under his bed, collecting dust.

You don’t need to know that, though.

“I meant for washing them so you can change,” you laugh at his embarrassment. The sound somehow makes him feel better even though you’re slightly making fun of him. You shrug and arch a brow at him, lilting, “But… I’m down if you are.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#stranger things imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #stranger things x reader #virgin!eddie munson #virgin!eddie munson x reader #st oneshots <3 #published by bug

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kedreeva · 6 months

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Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

#peafowl #my pets #longfeather lane #cool cool cool i'm crying about it again #but listen I am OVERCOME with happiness okay #Can't wait to cry in the middle of a VERY public place over a bird #can i gofundme a bird?? is that allowed in their tos

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charmedreincarnation · 10 months

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Hey, guys! I've been receiving a ton of messages in response to my last post. It's reminding me of how I first discovered shifting. I feel like doing a little story time since Ive just passed the three-year mark of my discovery, and I've been reminiscing with friends about it.

I remember being in a very dark place when I stumbled upon shifting. I was depressed, and very suicidal. Yet, there was this unshakeable optimism inside me that I was meant for an extraordinary life. Despite my mental state, I had a lot of knowledge of subliminals and the law of attraction (-_-). These gave me hope, but they weren't enough tbh. I didn't want to attract my dream life through practicing gratitude or becoming a magnet for my desires or whatever. Nor did I want to have to listen to subliminals for years on end to achieve my goals. My list of desires was so long, and I needed everything to change that going step by step and waiting years for each one to manifest just wasn't feasible.

But I refused to give up. One day, after a particularly hard day of being sad per usual, I searched on Quora for something like "fastest most powerful subliminals on YouTube ever" (Y’all 😭😭). Among the recommended sub creators, I found a video called "Desired Life: Reality Shifting". The description promised everything I had ever wanted: waking up with all your desires fulfilled permanently in short. It piqued my curiosity so much. Could I really just wake up with my dream life, family, house, wealth, all based on my scripts and imagination?

Growing up, I was a heavy maladaptive daydreamer. From ages 10-17, I created alternate lives in my head, telling myself I would go there someday. I was always doing SATs (State Akin to Sleep), and I think that's what kept me from ending it all. I was constantly in the wish fulfilled state, even though I didn't know what that was at the time.

Back to my story, I went into the comments of that video and came across a guy who claimed that after a week of using this subliminal, he woke up with a new life as a multi-millionaire living in his dream penthouse. I messaged him, and he gave me his Instagram which showcased his luxurious life. He had what seemed like a perfect relationship, he was very attractive, had so many cars, and travelled 24/7 while having a six figures amount of followers. He was living proof that this wasn't just scripting. Also the law of attraction community is known for their mad expensive coaching.. like hundreds of dollars per hour for questions and he was answering it all for free something I didn’t see the law of attraction community. And I talked to him for hours! He never got mad, he had proof, and he was kind, proof and the behavior of someone who really had mastered the art of life.

After our conversation, I spent the next couple of months doing research. I found numerous stories about glitches in the matrix, accidental shifting, people entering parallel realities, and eventually, shifting communities on platforms like Amino and Reddit. It was stuff I already believed in and did in my imagination; I just didn’t know there was a term for it.

Then I got reminded of a memory that I had seriously repressed bc it was so fucking weird. When I was 6 and my brother was 3, we were absolutely obsessed with dodo birds. One day, we were outside playing, and on god time seemed to stop. Out of nowhere, a dodo bird appeared. I know you’re probably like “maya be so fr rn you were a kid” but no, This wasn't just our young imaginations running wild - there was a bird that was huge, dinosaur-like, exactly how dodos are described in books and pictures we had.

Then things got weirder. Suddenly it started raining eggs. Big, large eggs everywhere it was so gross and my brother and I were a mess. We were young, sure, but not stupid. We knew this wasn't normal. My brother and I rushed inside to tell our dad. When I managed to drag him outside, he was furious, accusing me of throwing eggs everywhere. To this day, he tells the story of the time I "trashed the backyard with eggs." And every time, I'm like, "Dad, where would I get that many eggs?" We didn’t have eggs but so he assumed I stole them and we went inside for hours and it was magically cleaned. So he also tells the story of how responsible I am and how I took accountability for my actions even as a child. I didn’t clean that shit bro and I tell him that too and he just laughs it makes me so mad.

My brother, who knows I'm into reality shifting (though he doesn’t really believe in it), can't explain that day either. He often shrugs it off as a "glitch in the matrix," which honestly, well no duh it is a shift dummie. He does believe in manifesting but only bc he has seen me use it and he experiences the good things I manifest as well. They’re the same thing anyways but that isn’t the point

The reason I'm bringing up this bizarre childhood memory is because during my months of research into shifting, I found countless stories of accidental shifts, people entering the void, entering parallel universes, time glitches, examples of the Mandela effect first hand, glitches in the matrix and etc. It was like uncovering a myriad of experiences that confirmed what I already believed: we can change and choose our reality. I just didn’t know the phenomena had a name. Obviously in the future I came across other things like the law of assumption, the void state, etc etc but this was where it started.

I wish I had saved all those fascinating stories, posts, and blogs. I might go back and compile everything I found because they were so real and enlightening. It will probably take forever tho if I do choose to do that, but I think it's worth sharing.

In the meantime, check out this accounts of accidental shifts that my friend shared with me this account https://instagram.com/tessicavision?igshid=OGQ5ZDc2ODk2ZA== based off the Glitch in the Matrix subreddit which is also a goldmine of people experiencing similar phenomena. It helped me make sense of my own experiences and might do the same for you.

I don’t want this to be too long and I already got to the point I think! but regardless stay curious and realize you’re really not that special. I mean ofc you are, i mean this is not some tumblr thing teens girls discovered or created and isn’t even limited to “spiritually/manifesting inclined people” I think at the beginning of my journey people talking about accidental shifts and such, inspired me more than purposeful success stories because they really have no reason to lie and they were looking for answers just like I was.

#law of assumption #manifesation #manifesting #reality shifting #shiftblr

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jmdbjk · 8 months

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They take up a lot of space in my head sometimes...

I didn't want to dwell on this in the documentary posts but I know you guys will indulge me as I ramble a little bit.

I want to elaborate on some thoughts I had while watching the second half of Episode 7 when Jungkook went over to Jimin's.

I watched it several times. I made sure to watch it once with a very critical and skeptical eye to keep myself from straying too far...nothing serious but possibly delulu...

This part of the documentary inside Jimin's apartment was filmed on March 13, 2022 following the last PTD Seoul concert.

This was BEFORE PTD Las Vegas where Jimin has told us he talked to the members about his troubles and that's when he embarked on writing the songs that would end up on his album FACE which was released A YEAR after this interview.

It seems Jimin answers his phone in the car after the concert. Tells whoever to get ready and come over and asks what kind of chicken to order. The documentary camera person is already in the car with Jimin... who is he speaking to on the phone? When we eventually see Jungkook coming over later on in this episode, it's natural to assume he was speaking to Jungkook on the phone, who was probably in another car on his way home to his own apartment after the concert, or perhaps already home since his apartment is much closer to Jamsil Olympic Stadium where PTD Seoul was held.

Inside Jimin's residence, he talks about what he does there, basically not a whole lot: eats, sleeps, drinks, has friends over, plays on the computer, and from what we've seen since, he's not much of a decorator.

He wonders if he's revealed too much. I think this was a legitimate question for him, since idols typically do not divulge this sort of thing to the fans. It's plausible to me that Jimin has to unlearn all these preconceived ideas he's had about being an idol in order to forge ahead.

Delivery fried chicken arrives and he runs to get it and runs back to the dining table. Literally runs. The door chimes as it closes. I do love watching him eat. He surely loves his food. A man after my heart.

He talks about how it naturally came about that they needed to have their own spaces. They were maturing young men, they needed their own places even though they'd lived together for so many years. He said their place in Gangnam was so small they put up temporary walls. I believe he was speaking about the house that is now a cafe, Hyuga? He says it was scary living on his own, it was so quiet.

When Jungkook arrives, the door chime sound we hear was different from what it sounded like when Jimin went to the door to get the delivery chicken.

From this footage, we can't know if Jungkook punched in the code and let himself in. Maybe he did, but this footage does not show that. Unless someone is familiar with how that particular door chime sounds when it is unlocked, when it is locked, when it opens and when it closes, we can't know what that chime meant.

We see Jungkook after he's already inside the apartment. He was followed by a camera person. I am certain the camera-person does not have Jimin's apartment's door code. Make of that what you will...perhaps Jungkook came alone and they re-enacted him entering once he got there because it'd be weird if he was just there all of a sudden... we can't know.

Incidentally (fun fact) this is the same jacket Jungkook wore in the video of receiving the President's Award during his university graduation earlier that month (Mar. 2, 2022)... yes, Jeon Jungkook is a university graduate too. He wore a jacket with "QUIT YOUR JOB" across the back of it, to accept a graduation award.... 💀

Anyway back to my delulu...

Jimin and Jungkook are chatting at the table while eating and drinking and get on the topic of their sleeping habits when Jungkook says normally he would take a bath, drink a couple beers and go to sleep and even adds now he goes to sleep earlier. Such a grown up.

Jimin says he falls asleep at 1 a.m. so he must be getting old but it doesn't matter if he falls asleep at 1 a.m. or 6-7 a.m., he sleeps until 4 o'clock in the afternoon.

Jungkook says he decided not to live like that anymore... this the man who in early 2023 was staying up all night to do live broadcasts with us from his living room and waking up his neighbors belting out Unholy, etc... such a grown up.

And then Jungkook says 'oops, I sounded like Yoongi just then, never mind, live how what you want' and whoever that is off-camera wheezing... HAHAHAHAHAHA. Anyway. That whole exchange was... what is it with them? They ride the edge of smart-assy sarcasm and inside jokery with each other constantly. And this time at the expense of Yoongi! HAHAHAHA.

Jimin and Tae sometimes act similarly with each other but it is more role play and nothing like the long-running inside joke Jimin and Jungkook do all the time.

The vibe between them was identical to the one when they were sitting at the dining table that first night of In The Soop 2.

As episode 7 goes on, they show Jimin and Jungkook again, Jungkook is chopping mushrooms and Jimin says "You are doing so well on your own" and "Be careful" and the translation says Jungkook said "okay" but it sounds more to me like a "ayyy stop nagging" sound he made.

Jimin runs behind Jungkook again. Why does Jimin run so much? He's like a nervous, excited little mouse.

They're terrible Youtubers:

The ship wars and solo wars and stupid-things-you-could-ask-during-a-live wars over whether or not Jimin ever ate Jungkook's ramen... FINALLY, after posting all those recipes last year and Jimin saying he wants Jungkook to cook that for him, we see JUNGKOOK HAS COOKED RAMEN FOR JIMIN! Cooked it for him way before any of these wars began too... what a waste of energy.

No, Jimin didn't go over to Jungkook's to eat it, Jungkook came to Jimin and cooked it for him.

Ok, but this is the part that made me need to pause and rewind and write this long-ass post:

Jimin tells us that a friend of his helped him realize he needed to explore the possibility he was depressed.

He recounts the story as they were at Jimin's apartment drinking and they had a small argument. The next morning Jimin wakes up, has totally forgotten the argument and goes over to the friend's to help begin moving. They apologized to each other and the friend came over again that night and the friend said "I think you are severely depressed. You act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin said he didn't think he was having a hard time and the friend told Jimin to take some time to think about it. Jimin says a lot changed after that.

This moment when Jimin is retelling this story, "yet you act like you aren't, but you've been acting strange. If you're having a hard time, tell me." Jimin reaches over and actually touches Jungkook. Look at the way they are looking at each other?

The way Jungkook sat there, looking straight at Jimin while Jimin recounted that conversation/day/moment, chewing on his bottom lip as is his habit, Jungkook nodding during certain points that Jimin was retelling... very very brief moments where body language reveals a lot.

Maybe the "friend" Jimin was supposed to help move, the one who told Jimin he seemed severely depressed... was Jungkook?

You can call me delulu if you want. I see what I see and I hear what I hear.

They have not shown this type of closeness amongst the other members in this entire documentary. And here is Jungkook sitting in Jimin's home, while Jimin tells us this very intimate detail about himself.

If Jungkook was the one... it's plausible, the one who came over to drink, just like they were doing this evening... the one who was moving and Jimin was going to help him. The one who he can look in the eyes and recount this story and his friend can look him straight back in the eye and nod in agreement.

Why retell this story with Jungkook sitting next to him? There were other moments when we know Jungkook is there, he could have been off camera while Jimin told the staff about this intimate moment with his friend. No. He said it while they sat next to each other looking at each other.

It's possible. If not, it seems possible that Jungkook has already heard this story.

Jimin shares more than we've ever heard from him: that he falls into a labyrinth the moment he starts to ponder about what happiness is. He says of course their work and many other things require attention to detail but it's ok if there is vagueness (or imperfection) too. If you get too caught up in the meaning of things (in the importance of things), you feel like you have to risk it all to accomplish them and its ok to let some of it go, enjoy the simplicity of things and not get emotional over everything ... this sounds like Jimin has matured and has tried to push away perfectionism.

He believes he is in a very healthy place mentally right now (at the time of that interview, March 13, 2022) but can't say the same about his body, but he wants to stay healthy as he grows older together with the fans. And Jungkook is still there, but off camera.

This interview was almost two years ago. And now their first solo career endeavors have been accomplished and these two are doing their military obligation together. They've come a long way. We will see them again next year. It won't be as long as it feels.

Anyway, going back to my delulu cave now. Carry on.

#i cried my eyes out #jimin and jungkook #jikook #kookmin #the more i think about the 'friend' the more dots connect #i could also be totally wrong #jungkook does know though #nothing will change the fact they are tight tight

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metyouinthehallway · 7 days

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Going Under - C. Sturniolo

Summary: In desperate need of a plus one to her sisters wedding, Masie decides that Chris will act as her fake boyfriend throughout the weekend. What could possibly transpire during the trip?

WC: 2555

Pt.1

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

“Chris come on, you're literally my last hope.” I beg through the phone. My sister sent out wedding invitations six months ago and I checked the plus one box because, at the time, I was under the impression that me and my boyfriend would be in attendance. I even went as far as telling her I was so excited for the family to finally meet him. But alas, shit happens and we inevitably broke up. So, I'm sat here at one in the morning begging Chris, of all people, to come with me instead.

“There is no way in hell I'm gonna fly all the way to Colorado with you, let alone meet your family.” Chris rebuttals, I can almost hear the eyeroll in his voice. I’ve already asked Matt and he said he’d be out of town then and I wouldn’t put nick through the torture of pretending to be my boyfriend for a weekend.

So I settled for Chris.

“Please? It won't be as bad as you think it’ll be, I promise.” I've spent the last thirty minutes on the phone with him and I'm so close to just giving up. The triplets are my best friends and have been since I moved to LA two years ago. Chris, for some reason, always has some shit to say about everything I do. Over the last few years, he’s learned to tolerate me at the very least.

“Fine,” He huffs, “I’ll go but… I want you to buy me a Redbull, and dinner, and-”

“Deal! You got it. Flight leaves on Thursday morning at seven. Be at my place by five.” I cut him off, hanging up the phone. I honestly can’t believe I actually convinced him to come with me.

Once Thursday rolls around, Chris is knocking on my apartment door at five o’clock sharp. Two suitcases full of shit are on either side of him and the bags under his eyes tell me he didn't get any prior sleep.

“Good morning sleepy head!” I grin as he pulls his bags into my living room.

“Mhm. you owe me a Redbull.” He grumbles, plopping down onto my couch.

“You want anything to eat? I'm making a bagel but I have Pop Tarts if you don't want that.” I offer, feeling like a mother. The awkwardness made both of us visibly tense. Out of all three of the triplets, I spend the least time with Chris. Sometimes he actually makes it obvious that he’s avoiding me.

“Bagel, do you have any orange juice?” He asks, scrolling on his phone. I reach into my fridge and luckily, I do. Pouring him a glass, he takes it upon himself to start an actual conversation. “So, your family, how do they feel about you being a youtuber? Like, are they gonna judge me too?” I hand him his drink, walking back to the kitchen.

“Eh, they don't really care. I mean, my parents are proud of me for being able to support myself but they probably wish I was a doctor or somethin’.” I let out a dry laugh, I know my family loves the fact that I’m happy with my career but they definitely do wish I went into the healthcare field. I couldn't care less.

“You do need to play as a good fake boyfriend though, let's say… we met at a party or somethin’ and you asked me out a month later. We've been ‘dating’ for eight months. Sound good?” I suggest, knowing Chris doesn't care half as much as I do. He only nods in response again. I take it he isn't much of a morning person.

We sit in silence for the rest of the time at the apartment before I drive us to the airport. Stopping at a gas station to get Chris that promised Redbull. At the airport, Chris is asleep before we even take off.

The flight is only three hours but the screeching baby behind us makes it feel like an eternity. “Chris…” I gently nudged him, careful not to piss him off. “Get up, I need to pee.” There were pros and cons to having the window seat. Pros; the window & having the wall to lean your body against. Cons; waking up Chris to piss.

He grumbles, lifting his legs to his chest to let me by. I'm quick in the bathroom, aside from the fact that I almost trip and fall on my face from someone's carry on, I make it back to my seat safely. Chris is now fully awake again and seemingly in a better mood than earlier this morning.

“When we land, I wanna stop at a gift shop in the airport. I promised my brothers I’d get them a keychain or somethin’.” He watches as I climb back over his legs and I make a mental note to be sure to point out the first gift shop I see.

“Sounds good. I should probably tell you now, My sister rented this huge house on Emerald Lake. Like, huge. We’ll all be staying there for the weekend.” I scroll through my messages with my sister to show him a picture of the house, his jaw nearly drops when I do. It's a cabin-esque lake house, made out of wood and huge windows in the front. Probably the coolest house I've ever seen.

“That is insane.” he responds, taking my phone out of my hands to scroll through the rest of the photos. I take this time to look out my window. Clouds are kissing mountaintops and I can just barely see a few canyons which means we're about to land soon.

Chris hands me back my phone and the flight attendant comes on the intercom. “Attention Southwest Flyers, We are about to land in beautiful Colorado. Please latch your seatbelts and keep them on until we are landed. We hope you enjoyed flying with us.” She says. I can't help the smile that plasters itself onto my face. I haven't seen my family in nearly a year and to think I’m bringing Chris, of all people, with me.

When we land, we find a gift shop before going to baggage claim, Chris grabs my hand so as not to lose me in the busy airport. He points out a display with keychains on it, the ones that look like license plates with names on them.

“Help me find one for nick,” He lets go of my hand, frantically searching the display for Nick's name. I look behind me, finding a rack with t-shirts on them.

“This shirt is very Nick.” I smile, holding up a yellow shirt with mountains on it. Chris grabs it from me, almost praising me for finding it.

“Thanks.” He acknowledges the shirt and we walk up to check out. We’re quick to grab our bags and call an Uber from the airport to the lake house. After the hour-long car ride, we thank the driver, making sure to tip him extra and staring in awe at the lake house we’re staying at for the next four days.

A huge driveway led up to the entrance of the house, the outside was a mix of craftsman and cabin architecture. The wraparound porch was accompanied by gardens full of Colorado native flowers. The house sat right on Emerald Lake, the mountains only added to the scenery, secluding us from any outside world. It felt so peaceful here. It's beautiful.

“Masie, Hi!” My sister, Amber shouts, running down to the driveway and smothering me in a bear hug while chris stands around awkwardly.

“Hi amber, I’ve missed you so, so much! Congrats on the wedding big sis.” I smile, trying to escape her grip. “This is Chris, my boyfriend.” I point to Chris, praying he's ready to play fake boyfriend.

“Nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you. All good things.” He chuckles, extending his hand for her to shake.

“You as well, here, let me show you to your guys’ room.” Amber grabs one of Chris’ suitcases and my purse, leading us to the house.

When we walk in, It's just as gorgeous as I imagined. A grand staircase greets us, to which Amber leads us up, our room is all the way at the end of the hallway, which is adorned with photos of wildlife that I assume inhabits the area.

“Alright, this is your guys’ room. Mine and Marks is right down the hall. I’ll let you get settled in but we're all having lunch in town at one. The cousins will be there!” she explains before walking out and shutting the door behind her.

“Wow.” is the first and only word Chris has said to me since arriving. “Your sisters hot.” He jokes, setting one of his suitcases on the bed.

“Hey thanks!” I bubble, giving myself a tour of the room. We have a master so our own bathroom, how nice. The walls are painted a baby blue with a photo of the mountains about the bed and a balcony? I’m scared to ask how much it cost for Amber to rent this place for a whole weekend.

“Who’re the cousins?” Chris questions, shoving his clothes into the dresser.

“Is it not obvious? They’re my cousins dipshit.” I blurt, seriously a stupid question on his part.

“Yeah, no shit. Are they chill? Mom’s side or Dad’s?” Chris rolls his eyes at me, the dresser drawer now overflowing with clothes. Who knew this kid could pack so much shit?

“Both sides, They're all cool, don't worry. One of them was just born a few months ago so I haven't met her yet. Her name is Charity.” I coo, I’ve seen facebook posts of her sure, but I couldn't be more excited to meet her. Or meet my other cousins.

“A baby?” He looks nearly disgusted. I chose to ignore his comment and step out onto the deck, breathing in the Colorado air and basking in the view and taking a few pictures for Instagram. Growing up in Colorado was a blessing and I'd take this place over Los Angeles any day. I miss it every day.

Deciding I should probably unpack and get ready for lunch, I walk back inside to see Chris already on the bed, scrolling through his phone. After putting all my shit away, I walk into the bathroom to change for lunch.

A denim skirt and white lace top. Doing some light makeup and putting my hair into a slick back, I walk back out to Chris.

“You look decent.” He scoffs, as if it's unusual for me to look nice. Taking his turn to change out of his airport attire, somehow, he takes longer to get ready than I did.

“You ready?” He asks, after taking forty five minutes in the bathroom. I nod and link our arms together, walking down to the living room. I'm greeted by nearly all of my family with weird looks and coming to the realization that literally none of them know the stranger standing next to me.

“This is Chris, My boyfriend.” I announce to the room, all of them, especially the little ones being intrigued by him.

“Nice to meet you guys.” He nods and my parents are the first to walk up to us and introduce themselves.

“Chris,” My dad shakes his hand. “Im Maise’s father, Donny. I assume you treat her right?” He has such a serious look on his face. This is the exact same way he introduced himself to my past boyfriends too, I find it hilarious.

“Yes, sir.” He gulps, very clearly nervous.

“Oh, honey, don't be intimidated by him. He’s a big ol’ softie.” My mom laughs at my dads sternness. “I’m Laurie.” Mom giggles and we all file out the door into our cars, Me and Chris riding with Amber and her soon to be husband, Mark.

The car ride into town is about thirty minutes and the whole time Amber and Mark are interrogating us.

“So, Los angeles, how is that? You enjoy being Youtubers?” Mark looks at us through the rear view mirror.

“It’s pretty awesome, I make videos with my brothers and I’d say we have a pretty great fanbase.” Chris fawns, he can't thank anyone other than his fans for the career he has today and I can tell he's truly grateful.

“Did Masie mention our cousin Ally is a fan of you and your brothers? She’s arriving tonight, I’m sure you’ll have a blast dealing with that.” Amber pipes in.

No Amber, In fact I did not tell Chris for a reason! Thanks! I think to myself and Chris looks at me with wide eyes. I send him an apologetic look knowing how obsessive Ally can be.

“Oh cool, always fun to meet fans.” Chris tries to sound excited but inevitably fails.

“How long have you guys been together for? I haven't seen you post about him, Maise.” My sister inquires, I internally curse myself forgetting about her curiosity.

“Eight months almost nine, never been happier!” I spit through my teeth, placing my hand on Chris’ knee and giving it a light squeeze.

The rest of the car ride isn't too awkward, mostly comfortable silence as the radio plays softly throughout the car.

Once we arrived at the restaurant, were split up into groups and despite our age, Chris and I are pretty much forced to sit at the ‘kids’ table with my cousins.

“Sophie says your boyfriend is cute!” My little cousin, James blurts out after she just whispered something to him.

“James!” Sophie squeaks, hiding her face in embarrassment.

“Awh shucks, you're pretty adorable too sophie.” Chris waves at Sophie. She's only eleven but hey, she recognizes an attractive guy when she sees one.

I giggle at the interaction, attempting to brush off that thought but I find myself peering up at Chris. Somethin’ about the way his hair is poking out from his hat is pretty hot.

“Soph, its okay, I think he's cute too!” I say in an attempt to make her feel better. I assume it works cause she's giggling with me

After the waitress comes to take our order we go back to normal conversation, Chris is playing tic-tac-toe on the kids menu with Sophie, I watch him as he draws an X in a spot completely opposite from where he should. He’s letting her win, Chris praises her as she pieces it together that she won two out of three rounds.

“Do you love her?” James asks Chris, drawing out the O for much longer than needed. He looks at me with furrowed brows, unsure of how to answer.

“Yeah, I love her a lot.” He looks at me for a second and then back at James, placing his hand on my thigh and I can't help but blush a little. Once the waitress brings our food out, everyone shuts up (thank god). While we’re eating, I continue to steal glances at Chris. Something tells me this weekend might not be a total shitshow like I imagined.

A/N: heyy this is the first chapter of god knows how many for this series. idk how long itll be until pt2 comes out as i have a job anddd im going to college lmao this chapters kinda lame but itll get better trust <3

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masonmount-vii · 24 days

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It'll Make Sense One Day

Part Two

april eighteenth

You glance at your phone to look at the time as the book you've been reading lands on the duvet.

It's one am

You don't have to be up until nine, but you figure that you should probably get some sleep, anyway.

When you look at your phone screen again, you notice that you have two new messages which are from Tinder, both from guys you have matched with.

Sighing, you tap on the screen to launch the app, and see that both a Jake and Mason have messaged you.

Hey! The one from Jake says.

Funny seeing you here ;), the one from Mason reads.

A shiver runs down your spine as you click on his profile.

Chocolate brown eyes, charming smile.

How did you manage to swipe on your high school best friend and not even know?

'What do i even say?' You wonder, knowing that you have to reply.

You don't want to, especially not with the way you and Mason ended your friendship, but you also didn't think that you would ever talk to him again.

The Mount family had moved next door when you were six and Mason was seven. At first, you were acquaintances, but that didn't last long. Soon enough, you both were inseparable, spending all your time outside of school together, talking on the phone when you weren't in the same place.

As high school started, you had begun to notice how Mason would fluster whenever you talked to him whenever your friends were around, but whenever it was just you two, he was completely fine, laughing and joking with you. You had never brought it up yo him, as you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable or even worst case scenario distance himself but that had happened anyways.

Or, at one of your friends birthday party, there had been a dance floor, and you only really wanted to dance with Mason. You eventually insisted that you should dance with your other friends too.

"Just to be fair, Mase," you remember your little young self whispering, not noticing the expression that passed across his face, one that suggested he would rather leave the party altogether than dance with someone who wasn't you.

"Right, yeah, makes sense," Mason had mumbled as he let go of you. You couldn't help but be disappointed as he went off to dance with someone else, even though you had suggested it in the first place.

By the end of the school year, you were convinced you were in love with him.

Anytime he would look at you, butterflies would kickstart in your stomach, or you'd blush unnecessarily at anything and everything he had said.

As all of her friends shared their stories of their first kisses or first boyfriends, you would sit and think about what it would be like to date Mason, or kiss him, at the very least.

Then, weeks before you started year eleven, he told you that he would have to move to kickstart his football career.

"I'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner," he had confessed one Saturday night, while you were sat on the step outside your house, watching the time creep closer to your curfew. "i just didn't know how. It's such a big decision, and i didn't want to tell you until it was all sorted, but you know you can always visit me. You understand though, right? You're like my sister Y/N. You'll always be in my life, you know?"

You didn't know. The words my sister tumbled around in your brain as you tried to make sense of them. You didn't know what to say, but the words i've liked you for a long time were on the tip of your tongue.

You were so close to saying it right then, but instead you chewed on the inside of your cheek while inspecting your nails, two nervous habits that you felt like you needed to break. "Why are you telling me now? Why not just not tell me at all and leave me to figure it out for myself?"

Mason had been speechless, staring open-mouthed at you as if he couldn't believe you had actually said that. (You couldn't believe it, either.) While he sat there, you whispered a 'goodbye' as you saw that there was only one minute until your curfew, and it wasn't until the next morning that you had realised that he hadn't said it back.

You didn't talk to him for the rest of the school holidays. You hardly saw him, except for when your brother, Liam used to go to football practice with him and you used to go along with your mum to watch him. You would see Mason getting into his Mum's car at the same time. Mason would wave to Liam while you avoided eye contact.

Your mum brought you a journal for your birthday, and you wrote in it until you poured your heart out onto the pages, only stopping when there wasn't any more room to write.

You were sure that this was what a broken heart felt like; messy and unclear. There was some days that you wanted to talk to Mason, just because you couldn't believe this is how your friendship ended.

You thought many times about patching things up over the rest of holidays before Mason goes away, but then you would see him around with a girl, at the movies or a fancy restaurant where your sister worked.

You came to learn, through friends, that his girlfriends name was Georgina, and they were pretty serious. One morning you saw getting in the car with rest of his family, driving away when the time finally came for him to move. You stayed in a slump all day, you at least thought your friendship meant more and he would say goodbye before moving but you thought wrong. "I don't understand why you won't just talk to him." Your sister, Millie had said not without rolling her eyes, as she thought this was a stupid way to end a friendship.

The fact that Mason was gone had made it easier for her to admit the reason for her radio silence towards him. When you were done talking, you had expected Millie to start laughing (or worse, force you to call him), but all your older sister did was give you a hug and say that she understood. It was hard for her to see her little sister upset.

Then, as time went on, you had passed your GCSE'S done your A-Levels and now you were moving away from home to start university and you didn't hear from Mason or about him.

He and Georgina eventually broke up, and you had almost reached out to him, apologise for being an overdramatic teenager, but something had stopped you.

Now, your phone buzzes again, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Sorry if that message came off a little strong.

Mason, apologising for something as simple as a possible misinterpreted text.

The irony of him apologising to you when you thought you should be apologising isn't lost on you.

You don't know how to respond, so you don't; instead, you plug your phone in, set it on your bedside table, and fell asleep.

You alarm rings at exactly eight o' clock the next morning, and you reluctantly sit up, sighing.

The first thing you see when you look at your phone is the unanswered text from Mason, and you know you should just answer it.

It's nearly been ten years, you need to get over it, you tell yourself.

You are over it, you think. you haven't thought about Mason in a long, long time, and you only had today since you'd matched with him on Tinder without knowing how. There's a part of you that still wants to be friend with him.

So, you respond with a simple ‘it’s been a while, how are you?’ before doing your morning routine and heading off to work.

Whilst at work, all you can think about is how you wish you never stopped talking to Mason just because he was moving away and didn’t tell you. You should’ve been proud of him, that he’s finally going to do what he loves most and what he’s passionate about but you were so stuck in your own feelings you didn’t think about how the way you reacted could’ve possibly hurt him too. You should’ve been there for him.

It’s not like he told you a day before; he let you know once he was certain it was happening, and yet you were still upset about it, exactly as he feared you would be. Mason didn’t know you were in love with him at the time. How could he? You didn’t show your emotions as easily as he did back then, and now, nearly ten years later, you regret that.

You get home a few hours later to see a new message from Mason, but instead of replying, you scroll through your contacts, hoping that you still have the number you’re looking for.

To your surprise, your brokenhearted, fifteen year old self hadn’t thought to erase your best friends number from your contacts, and you’re relieved to see the same number has stayed there through various phones over the years.

“Hello?” Mason answers, and you aren’t prepared for the emotions that suddenly hit you in an overwhelming wave.

“Hi,” you whisper back, feeling tears rising behind your eyes, “I thought…well, I thought I might aswell call you.”

“Y/N?” He breathes out in disbelief, “It’s been, what, ten years almost?”

“Something like that.”

“How….how are you doing? I didn’t realise you still had my number.”

“I didn’t either, honestly. I’m doing well, I just got home from work. What about you?”

“I’ve been at training, but I got home not that long ago.”

An awkward silence follows. You feel like you suddenly don’t remember how to talk.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about what-” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“Mason, we both know that if anyone should be apologising for what happened nine and a half years ago to put it precisely, it’s me. So, I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t fair to just let you leave and not explain myself. The truth is, well..”

Here goes nothing.

You take a deep breath, hearing nothing in the other end.

“I liked you. As more than friends.”

More silence.

It stretches on for so long that you begin to think he hung up.

And then.

“Oh.”

“At the time!” You were quick to reassure him in the thick awkwardness that’s grown between the two of you, “I know, I know you were with Georgina at the time, and I couldn’t, didn’t want to, get in the way of that. Not to mention that you were moving anyways so it wouldn’t have worked between us. Not that that’s bad. It is what it is. I just had to figure out how I was going to piece my broken heart back together.”

You take a deep breath after you’re done talking, and when he doesn’t answer you straight away, you fight the urge to hang up the phone.

“It’s okay,” Mason says eventually, and it takes a second for you to calm down, “As long as you’re not, you know, still in love with me.”

It’s a joke, you realise after a second has already passed, and then you let out a laugh that sounds fake even to your own ears.

“No, I’m not. That would be ridiculous, Mason. I haven’t talked to you in almost ten years, and I think we have a lot to talk about,” you reply.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe we could meet for a coffee next Saturday? You don’t work on Saturday’s, do you?”

You answer almost immediately. “Nope.”

“I’ll see you on Saturday, Y/N. I’m really looking forward to it.”

“Me too, Mase.”

There’s slight smile in his voice as he hangs up, and you’re just left staring at your phone, wondering what the hell you had just agreed to.

Thank you so much for reading, I’m hoping you’ll continue to stick around 💓 next part will be 30/08/2024!

#mason mount x reader #mason mount x oc #mason mount x you #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fluff #mason mount smut #mason mount imagine #mason mount

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accirax · 6 days

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Danganronpa: Despair Time Chapter 2 Episode 13 Dissection

Jesus CHRIST, the hits keep on coming (/pos). I don't think anyone could have predicted everything that came to light in this episode. But, hey, at least we're finally cooking on the murder method a bit more...?

SPOILERS for Danganronpa: Despair Time though Chapter 2 Episode 13! Also, CW: discussions of suicide.

Similarly to last time, I tried not to look at too many other people's major reactions/theories as to not influence my opinions as they were when I watched the episode. (Although I think I failed to do that more than last week...) Here's what this episode got me thinking about!

Genocide Jack, Junko, Mukuro, Peko, and Korekiyo:

On that note, though, this is... debatably relevant lore about Hope's Peak as it exists in DRDT? We know from Chapter 2 Episode 2 that Veronika (and likely all of the non-Terukos as well) don't remember Trigger Happy Havoc, and, based on this, it's likely that they don't remember much of the history of the old HPA either. Ace being so adamant that HPA wouldn't scout a murderer implies that the new HPA has fully regained its spotless reputation, potentially even more than the Tokyo school ever had.

I want you all to know that I tried to write out a little theory about whether or not Levi could have killed any plot-relevant characters here, but I came to a dead end at every venture. Levi killed Mai? No, he has no motive, and the murder happened before everyone attended Hope's Peak. Levi killed Elliot? No, Ellie was probably killed by dogs, and the timing is all wrong. Levi killed someone at the North C and Chariton incident? That didn't even happen. I was just getting that confused with my theories about what Xander might have done at that incident in FF's DRDT Milgram AU. Not even what actually happened in the AU. Just my theories on what might happen.

The only option I couldn't fully rule out was the idea that Levi killed some of the ~5 missing members of the altDRDT cast, but, holy shit, can you imagine how funny that would be? Teacher and the gang get to the sixth Class Trial and ask all dramatically, "so, what happened to the rest of our class that didn't make it to the killing game...?" and Monowhatever is just like "actually, Levi Fontana just straight up merced those dudes years ago." Hilarious.

Anyways. That goes to show that I do think these were just random guys, and the only specific relevance they would have is in the realm of Levi's backstory specifically.

RIP to the "Levi used to be an assassin" theory. I actually kinda liked that one myself.

(Also, hijacking this image to point out the background music here. You hear the ticking clock motif? Very suspicious indeed...)

Yup, even more confirmation that HPA highly valued having an incredibly pure and righteous image. Of course this HPA was also corrupt. Is it even possible to make an HPA without some level of corruption?

(Levi. My guy. I need you to use a different sprite; the quadruple image combo is starting to look ridiculous.)

What I find really interesting here is that, even in the realm of forgetting about murders, Levi remembers the three random guys before his father. Like, I know that Levi says that he kinda equally doesn't care about everyone (and I believe him to be telling the truth on that), but you would think that, just by virtue of having spent more time with his dad or the people around him's reactions, Levi would have remembered killing his father before offing three random thugs.

I don't know if this is meant to A) really drive the point home that Levi sees no difference between those he "knows" and those he doesn't; B) imply that Levi might have sustained some greater amount of trauma from killing his father that caused him to block that memory out more; C) suggest that killing the guys was more recent than killing his dad, which might lead him to remember it with more clarity; or D) some combination of the former three. However, I think it's an interesting detail to note.

The foils are foiling........

This was hilarious. And lowkey evidence that Nico was the one who tried to kill Ace.

You know, I actually almost made a theory once that the clauses "you're a murderer" and "you have no remorse" could be read as two separate secret statements! Not to say that Levi didn't have no remorse for the killing part, but that having no remorse was a state of being not solely tied to the murdering.

Alsoooo... just gonna say, Levi on Drawing Pins is looking better and better all the time...

Eden: But you're a good person. Why are you saying these things when it's clearly not true? You're so kind to everyone. You're always helping others out, even when it'd be easier not to. Like that time Ace almost died. You kept trying to help him, even if he always pushed you away. Isn't that what "a good person" does?

WE ARE BACK AT IT AGAIN!!! "GOOD PERSON" SPECIFICALLY IN THE LEVI/EDEN CONTEXT AAAAAAAAA

Beyond the further "good person" jumpscare, I found this line interesting due to how Eden describes Ace. Someone who "always pushed [Levi] away." Sounds a lot like Arei, huh? In fact, a lot of it sounds like Eden is applying it to herself.

"But I'm a good person. Why am I thinking these things when it's clearly not true? I'm so kind to everyone. I'm always helping others out, even when it'd be easier not to. Like that time Arei yelled at me. I kept trying to help her, even if she always pushed me away. Isn't that what "a good person" does?"

Obviously, I'm reading into this in the "Eden is the blackened" context, but I think that it's still an interesting read of Eden's mental state even if she isn't the blackened. We know that, to some extent, Eden blames herself for both Min and Arei's deaths. Therefore, despite likely feeling like she's fucked up, she wants to cling onto the idea that she's a good person so she doesn't lose faith in herself.

That leads into some super interesting parallels when it comes to this speech versus what Arei said, but I'll talk about that more once we get to the Arei monologue.

This week, acevi shippers take the L. Really, Levi x anyone shippers, but I think acevi shippers got the worst of it.

Except, they also took the W. "Ace lowkey confirms he once had feelings for Levi" was NOT on my bingo card. Or Star's.

(Also I LOVE this new sprite)

I saw some people talking about Ace's friend (Taylor?) but I do not remember and cannot find any information about this character (so I can't even tell if they're just fanmade :( ). If anyone knows what I'm talking about and has a link, please send it to me. Anyways, "insult to his memory" definitely makes it sound like Ace's friend is dead. I wonder if the way in which he died has anything to do with Ace's fear of horses/cowardice in general.

I want to see more Levi and Veronika interactions so bad. It's no surprise that Veronika was the first to pick up what Levi was putting down. Both of them don't have the "normal" way of processing their feelings and interacting with others, but while Levi has decided to try to be what society deems as "good" anyways, Veronika has decided to fully live by her own creed. I wonder if Levi could be at all convinced by Veronika to go back to his old ways.

Veronika: You're always guessing as to what a normal human would do in your situation. You're so awkward in social settings because you can't tell what other people want.

I'm excited to see Levi and Nico interact too, obviously. I suppose Nico is kinda like the midpoint of Veronika and Levi-- doesn't understand people and wants the world to work the way they perceive it, but also has been bullied enough to feel forced to play along with how others want them to be. Characters like these have become some of my favorite archetypes to discuss. I'm so glad that DRDT has so many of them!!!

The foils are foiling AGAIN...

Why the fuck are you so pressed about the secrets now??? I thought you were all about privacy?????

Well, thank you for "confirming" that swap, ladies! This talk of a pact is very interesting, though. I guess Hu must have gone to Veronika pretty early to ensure that her secret wouldn't get out-- makes sense, as without that there's a good chance Hu could believe that Veronika would reveal her secret at the most unflattering time to create drama.

It does slightly recontextualize Veronika's "A little mystery makes this Trial more exciting, don't you think?", though. I wonder if that was just straight up a lie, or if that was the rationale Hu used to appeal to Veronika. I doubt we'll get a flashback of this scene now that this moment's passed, but I'd love to see it. FTEs...? 👀

David you have to stop this right now or you're going to become my new favorite character. Dude's been dying to don the mantle of the comic relief character, apparently.

Is The Motive Scoreboard Accurate?

I'm including this because I've seen some other people say that it is, specifically on Teruko's front. I strongly believe that this motive board is incorrect, and Teruko and Xander's secrets are swapped.

The blaming yourself secret mentions parentS and siblingS. Back in Chapter 1 Episode 4, Teruko says that she never knew her parents (and therefore may even just be assuming that she has two), and she only had one biological brother. Furthermore, she has no idea if they're dead or not. On the parents front, she could assume that being sent to an orphanage is confirmation enough that her parents are dead instead of just not wanting her. Being sent there with her older biological brother is a further implication of that.

However, Teruko specifically says that her brother "left with some other family." She makes no mention of believing he's dead at all. Therefore, for Teruko to have the secret she claims to have, Teruko would have to be constantly mourning parents and an additional sibling that she never knew, and to believe that all of them are dead despite having no reason to believe that her known brother died.

Obviously, all of these things were said aloud to Charles and Whit, so there is a possibility that Teruko lied about or concealed parts of her past to keep her walls up around those two. However, what does this face from David mean if not "I've caught you in my trap?"

(DRDT sprites are SO GOOD--)

To me, this sprite clearly indicates that David knows that Teruko is lying about something, but has chosen not to bring it up to save it for later purposes. I don't know if he has something specific in mind or just wants to hold the potential blackmail over her head, but I strongly suspect that we'll come back to this someday-- either in later daily life or a post-Trial scene in this chapter.

It's also interesting to note that, while David knows that this is Teruko's for sure, Charles and Whit also have the opportunity to recognize the discrepancy. I definitely wouldn't be surprised if Charles kept notes about what he knows about everyone somewhere. We'll have to see if either of them ask her about it down the road as well.

Eden: I know that she's dead!! I know that she's dead and that she's never coming back. I know that I'll never be able to talk to her ever again. But even then... I have to know that when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends. If you really say that you lied about making Arei kill herself, then tell me the truth. Tell me that you didn't make her lose hope. Please! Tell me what happened last night between you and Arei!

Oh boy.

Can Eden Still Be the Culprit?

Look. I understand if you look at this and believe that Eden couldn't possibly be the culprit-- or at least, not without being a completely different character than we know her to be. Because I almost did. Zel's performance did a really good job of selling Eden's heartbreak in a way that makes it feel like she couldn't have possibly been the one to end Arei's life. However, upon further review, I do think that Eden's words could be that of the killer, with minimal levels of intentional manipulation thrown in.

If it would cause you emotional distress to listen to me continue to accuse Eden, I'll write the rest of this section in purple so that you can skip it if you'd like. I don't want to make anyone sad, so I fully understand if you want to avoid these bad vibes. However, for those of you who are still on the fence, and those who have stuck with Eden!culprit all along, here's my justification. I think it'll be easiest to break it down block by block.

Eden: I know that she's dead!!

Okay, well, maybe skipping this section a bit. More points for Arei truly being the one who's dead, I guess?

Eden: I know that she's dead and that she's never coming back. I know that I'll never be able to talk to her ever again.

Alright, so, this can fairly easily be read as the same thing as what Eden was doing back when she was talking to Levi: reassuring herself.

Well, maybe "reassuring" is the wrong word. Basically, she's repeating the same mantra that she told herself when she was trying to justify her decision to kill Arei. When making the decision to kill anyone, the killer (if they care) has to process that they will have to kill every other person in the game if they want to escape for themselves. Therefore, if Eden is the killer, she already had to grapple with the fact that she can't turn back time. ("You can't go back, no matter how hard you try.")

I think that Eden might have it in her head that, even if it wouldn't fully erase her wrongdoings, as long as she doesn't just forgive and forget the whole affair, it makes things slightly better. That's why she was yelling things like "You forgot about all the things you did just because you didn't face any consequences for them? That's incredibly selfish!" at Levi.

Feeling bad about things is her punishment to make sure that Arei is never fully forgotten. She knows that, if she goes through with killing, she'll never be able to talk with any of these people again. However, if there's something more important to her than these 13 lives that she has to escape the killing game to reach, it's a consequence she'll have to accept. She knows it's selfish-- but she at least won't be so selfish as to also forget everyone else's sacrifice.

Eden: But even then... I have to know that when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends.

This is probably the part that feels the most damning. Why would Eden care about whether or not Arei was trying to become a good person if Eden is the one who killed her? Wouldn't it be better for Eden if she wasn't?

Well, that's what Eden is trying to figure out, too. In Venus' Narrative Defense of Eden Culprit Theory, Venus says that Eden didn't believe that Arei actually changed and wanted to be her friend. And, it really makes complete sense if she didn't-- Eden had no idea that David and Teruko continued to talk so seriously with Arei after her departure, and Arei saving Eden from Arturo literally happened the same day that Arei had her breakdown. It had probably been, like, 4 hours since Arei chewed her out for her worldview being stupid, and then Arei's suddenly turning around and declaring that she wants to protect Eden at all costs. Of course Eden might just believe that Arei was setting her up for a fall! (Murder pun not intended.)

Venus also adds that, at this point in the Trial, David knew something that Eden didn't: namely, that Arei actually wanted to change, and saw Eden as her inspiration for doing so. Under the assumption that that revelation has been bothering Eden the whole time, it makes perfect sense that Eden would want to know more about what David knew about Arei. She needs to know exactly how terrible she needs to feel for doing this terrible thing.

I think the quote becomes a lot less defendable if you just swap out the "that" for an "if."

"But even then... I have to know if when she was alive, she was still trying to become a good person. That if she lived, then maybe there'd be a world in which we would both be friends."

Now, obviously, you could say that this is an unfair point-- Eden didn't say "if," she said, "that"! How can you excuse Eden based off of evidence that isn't actually real?

My point is that, even if DRDTdev didn't have Eden phrase it that way, it would be an incredibly easy swap to make. Thus, the only way in which Eden would have to be lying is to swap out one word. With that one word, "if," we see how she's still doubting whether Arei really was trying to be a good person, and can read into why she's bringing that up at this time. To disguise it, all Eden has to do is trade "if" for "that"-- she doesn't have to be some masterful lying manipulator to pull off a quick exchange that makes her look more innocent.

Eden: If you really say that you lied about making Arei kill herself, then tell me the truth. Tell me that you didn't make her lose hope.

Eden needs the truth so that she can know how despicable she actually is (in her opinion). She needs to know how bad she needs to feel for taking Arei's life, so that she won't wind up as "inhuman" as Levi.

I also think that "tell me that you didn't make Arei lose hope" could be interpreted in a killer-ish way. There is a rhetorical device in English that sorta turns words like that on their head. Like, if I said, "don't tell me you spoiled DRDT for all of your followers!," it's often interpreted as "I know that you did spoil DRDT for all of your followers, but I don't want to hear it." In this case, Eden might not want David to tell her that he made Arei lose hope because she doesn't want to believe that Arei had any hope in the first place. It's better than if Eden was the one to directly crush those hopes, sure, but if Arei approached David talking about wanting to be a better person mere hours before her death, that still means that Eden was killing a hopeful Arei. She doesn't want David to confirm her worst fears.

I don't know if I phrased that section exactly how I imagined it in my mind, but hopefully you understand what I'm getting at.

Eden: Please! Tell me what happened last night between you and Arei!

In the end, though, Eden knows that she has to face the music to figure out how she wants to proceed with this trial, whether that's sinking the cost of her fallacy or owning up to her crime. And that's how I think you can justify this outburst of Eden's within the context of her being the blackened, without having to fully corrupt her character.

What Arei Meant

This part isn't a theory, exactly; it's more of an analysis of the point I think Arei was trying to convey in this section. I've seen some people be sad about the new note that Arei's character is "going out" on, but I actually think that this is a pretty realistic, thematic ending for where Arei's story and the themes of the chapter are headed. Time to praise DRDTdev's writing for a bit!

Arei: I'm a manipulative, two-faced bitch. I pretend to be cute so that I can treat others like trash. I only care about myself, and I always hurt others for selfish and stupid reasons. Of course I wanted to change myself. [...] Still, for the longest time, I thought it was stupid to even try. I'm rotten to the core, and I might as well be a different species from saints like you and Eden. [...] No matter what, I'll never be a good person. And yet, despite all that... David, you... It turns out that you might be a total piece of shit after all. If even a perfect inspirational speaker like you turns out to be an asshole, then there's no such thing as "a good person." [...] And that makes me relieved, because it means I'm not too far gone. It's okay that I'll never be a good person, because no one else can be either.

I don't think that Arei is saying that the world is a lost cause.

Instead, she's saying that no one is a lost cause. She's applying that Syndrome logic: "if everyone is a bad person, no one will be." Arei thought that, because of her upbringing, there was no possibility that she could ever Be Good, because she'd already done too much wrong. Good People are perfect, unerring gods who do nothing but help others and reach out to wayward souls. However, David's manipulations proved that that wasn't true.

Good People fuck up. Good People do good things for bad reasons, and bad things for good reasons, and, hell, if David is a Good Person, then Good People do bad things for bad reasons sometimes, too! Arei confessed to us that she felt like her life was over because she was given an unfair start. However, now she knows that the bar has been lowered, and that being a good person can be done by anyone, anywhere, at any time. Perfection doesn't exist. Now that she knows that there was never any need to be perfect, the chance she sought for so long has finally been granted.

(Dipping back into purple for a sec to talk about Eden culprit stuff)

After this, I feel like the theme of this chapter has to be about deconstructing the myth of "The Good Person." You think that Nico is just a soft and shy bullying victim? No, they're just as willing to kill as anyone else. You think that Hu is a gracious motherly figure? No, she has an angry streak and talks over other people. You think that Levi is a softhearted giant who just struggles with what to say sometimes? His kill count is higher than everyone who's died to the killing game so far, and he doesn't really care that that's the case. You think that Whit is just a silly guy who cares about others? Fuck, even he's willing to stall out the trial in an attempt to fulfill his own agenda.

The main person who hasn't yet been proven so be not as good as they seem so far is Eden, who in this episode has been clinging to the idea of being a good person harder than ever. I know that some people believe that Eden needs to survive to fulfill the role of the optimist, but I feel like this episode proves that that isn't true. We don't need A Hopeful Person because anyone can step up to the plate and believe in hope if they want to do so. Eden isn't A Good Person, but a real person, who's just as capable of laughing and crying and living and dying as anyone else.

A good person is not gold. That's why everyone who tried to cling to the idea that they were being A Good Person-- Xander, David, Levi-- has always wound up hurting others in the end. Xander believed his actions were morally justified, and thus decided to kill Teruko, causing Min's death and lots of anguish for Teruko. David wanted to follow in his footsteps, and beyond his inspirational speaker persona causing damage to himself, he was also about to kill everyone else to do "what's right." Levi (Arei pending) hasn't killed anyone since trying to become A Good Person, but pretending to follow those guidelines without actually wanting to change anything about himself emotionally hurt Ace, who was set up with false expectations.

If Eden is so convinced that she's a good person, she's only blinding herself to the ways that she's inevitably not.

Back to Arei, while it is sad that her development was cut off just as she made this revelation, I believe that clarifying this additional bit of content is a way to allow her to rest in peace. Even if she didn't get to transform as much as she wanted to, she at least got to die knowing that she wasn't as wretched as she convinced herself that she was all these years, and having done at least one good thing-- saving Eden from Arturo-- before she passed. It's an amazing character arc to squeeze in for your second victim.

Phew, finally, a chance to talk about objective lore instead of heavy and divisive character themes! Except, uh...

WHAT THE FUCK???

Remember when, at the beginning, I said that no one could have predicted everything that came to light in this episode? This was the main point I was talking about. I don't think anyone saw this reveal coming, especially in this moment.

For starters, even though this CG does appear in David's memories, I don't think that he or Arei actually remembers whatever this was taking place. Beyond me attempting to debunk the idea that David had additional memories of Hope's Peak last week, Arei or David specifically referring to this moment means that they had to... be there? When whatever this was happened?

I say "whatever this was" to briefly create suspense before connecting the dots everyone's already talked about: that Eden was probably the one to scratch out Xander's eye. This would make Eden the "she" that Xander (er, I mean, "the guy with the bloody hands") talks about in the intro scene.

It also gives some more context to the clock with the fork stabbed into it depicted in LGI.

I don't know if "non-functional" and "I didn't expect her to" mean that Eden could have been brainwashed or otherwise broken down into not acting like herself when this happened, but it certainly seems out of character for what we know of Eden. Even her facial expression seems to suggest that she might not have wanted or intended to attack anyone with that fork.

Anyways, for Arei or David to know about the contents of that CG, they would've had to both be there when Eden attacked Xander and then also have regained/had their memories of it, which seems unlikely given how both of them treat Eden. Like, even if Arei is sure that Eden "did something to hurt someone in the past," this seems a bit extreme, and David probably wouldn't be so neutral on her if he knew that she attacked his man.

Another really clever point that I saw someone make (AND THEN COULDN'T TRACK DOWN WHO OR IN WHICH POST IT WAS--) was that Eden is wearing her current outfit in this CG. Interestingly, I looked back at A History of Hope's Peak and Visiting Graves to see what Min and Xander were wearing, and while Min was wearing her typical killing game uniform, Xander was wearing something different. Given that Min's scene takes place in HPA and Xander's doesn't, this could imply that Min was wearing the HPA uniform? That's fitting, for her.

We also know that the DRDT cast were all wearing these outfits believing that they were headed for the HPA entrance ceremony. Therefore, we know that Eden would wear this getup to school, but we don't know if she'd wear it elsewhere. Once again, assuming it was Xander who got forked, we can place this CG some time between Visiting Graves and the start of the killing game. I have a hunch that Visiting Graves might have taken place during HPA's spring break-- in A History, Min and Mai (er, I mean, "Unnamed Student") are at school studying for a test with "Spring Break next week" on the chalkboard, while in Visiting Graves, Mai and Xander have traveled elsewhere-- but that's not confirmed, so we can't lock it down.

Maybe we can get more information about this in Eden's bonus episode! Because, well, I at least do think that most of the mysteries of this CG could be solved within a bonus episode and/or other characters talking about her posthumously in later chapters. Again, I understand if you want to use this CG as evidence that Eden is important enough to need to stick around, though.

AREI I MISS YOUUUUUUUUUU

Also, I didn't catch this at all, but credit to everyone who noticed how similar this scene is to the "Diana Chiem" scene in LGI! Fascinating implications that I have no additional thoughts on at the moment. Mostly because we don't know shit about Diana, if that even is her who's portrayed in that CG. I'm sure I'll come back to this someday, just not right now.

Oh, and I don't think you can really argue that Ace made up this conversation anymore. Idk how much of it he stuck around to listen to, though.

See like why is she so pressed about it???

I'd like to say that this is a win for Whit not being the mastermind (because he doesn't seem to know what MonoTV is talking about), but he could probably just be going "why are you saying that at this time?" or something like that. Sigh (/j)

Why Does Whit Know So Much About Hanging?

Alright, so, obviously, this could be a super-suspect hint that Whit knows all of this stuff about hanging and therefore decided to use that knowledge to kill Arei. But, I don't care about that! What I don't understand is how Whit came to know all of this in the first place!

Well, after a quick review, there's one option that stands out more than all the others: Whit's mom was killed by hanging, likely self-inflicted. The only thing we "know" about Whit's mom dying (assuming that secret really is his) is that she is dead, and Whit omits it. It's phrased pretty vaguely. We also know that Whit thinks his mom is awesome, but that doesn't tell us anything about how she saw herself. Sadly, I think this lines up all too well.

Whit's main character flaw, as we've seen throughout the story so far, is ignoring things that stress him out or make him sad. He represses, and chooses not to get involved in others' fights because it's "not his business." It would make sense if the same extended to what he was like before the killing game. If Whit always chooses to ignore things that worry him, there's a possibility he blames himself for his mom's death via not paying enough attention to any warning signs that her mental state might have gotten so dire. Of course, if repression runs in the family, she might have been doing her best to not make it obvious as well.

So, even though he hates himself for not giving his mom enough support in her darkest hour, he still can't (yet) make any changes in his life because ignorance is the only way he knows how to cope. Yet, he still won't let himself pass up on helping another soul in clear need of support, like Charles panicking over the blood, or Eden suffering over seeing Arei's body. He can push himself to help others that are sad, as long as he never focuses on himself.

Or, he's the time loop mastermind who's heard Class Trials discuss hanging a billion times before. You never know with this guy.

CONGRATS TO FF AND BADJOE FOR BEING THE SMARTEST PEOPLE IN THE WORLD!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉 Man, even seeing Teruko explain this mechanism as the truth, I still don't know if I would've been able to come up with it myself. This fandom is so smart :D

(Also, why was Whit a dog? Goddammit, is this more MonoTV coding?! /lh)

FUCK YES, WE'RE ACTUALLY GOING TO GET ANSWERS ABOUT THE GYM MURDER IN THIS TRIAL? HALLELUJAH! IT'S ABOUT TO BE T A P E T I M E, MOTHERFUCKERS! (/j)

Phew, barely squeaked it within 30 images! I'm impressed and amazed that DRDTdev keeps managing to make such gripping episodes week after week.

Get it? Gripping? Like grippy tape?

I'd apologize, but you're almost certainly going to hear more of that from me next week. Until then!

#danganronpa despair time #drdt #drdt spoilers #drdt chapter 2 part 2 spoilers #fanganronpa #cw suicide mention #levi fontana #ace markey #eden tobisa #whit young #teruko tawaki #arei nageishi #btw i hope i didn't come off as at all rude or condescending to people who don't believe in eden culprit #especially bc i was the one who was saying that no one should use the trial results to be mean to each other #my goal was only to celebrate some of my friends for having their theories turn out to be true #but i do truly feel for anyone whose expectations aren't lining up with reality. i'm sure that must be hard after the long wait #(and also to be clear i'm not discounting that i'll be proven wrong not long from now i just don't think it's happened yet)#(or maybe i'm just still delusional)#my theories

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dirigibleplumbing · 7 months

Text

If you're like me, sometimes you need the full text of Civil-War-era Tony's letter to Steve in the event of his death from "What If? Fallen Son" (2009). So here it is in its entirety!

If you notice any typos on my part, please let me know.

I put line breaks wherever the text was broken up, either by being in different sections of a panel or different panels/pages. I preserved the ellipses, though I didn't double them (in many cases a section of text would end in "..." and then the next section would also begin with "..."). I also didn't double up line breaks and ellipses.

Steve, I hope you never have to read this, old friend, because if you do, it means something terrible has happened. It means I'm dead. I suppose it shouldn't come as much of a surprise, really. During my years as Iron Man, I've racked up hundreds of enemies who wanted to do me in… and after recent events, probably a few old friends who feel the same. It's funny, though. I always prided myself on being a futurist--constantly thinking a leap ahead of everyone else. Apparently, that leap wasn't nearly far enough. But this letter is about looking forward--not back. It doesn't matter what killed me. All that matters is what happens next… and the legacy I've left behind. I'm not talking about Iron Man, either. The suit is nothing without the right man inside… and there aren't many I'd trust to pilot. Rhodey. Pepper. Happy. Maybe Jarvis… though he was never really the hero-type. And you, Steve. Whether you believe it or not, I always trusted you. Even during the darkest days--during the war--I never stopped believing in you. No one did. But like I said, this isn't about choosing a new Iron Man. There was a world before him, and there will be one after. This is about my ideas--the plans and inventions that I hoped would make the world a better place. This is about making sure those things don't fall into the wrong hands. I don't even want to imagine the suffering that could cause… That's where you come in it. I need your help, Steve. I need you to keep an eye on things now that I can't anymore--which is a lot to ask, I know, after what I've put you through. Still you're the only one I trust to make certain everything I was working for doesn't fall apart without me… and to ensure that the threats that I wasn't around to predict… don't end up blindsiding us in my absence. Our war may be over, Steve, but we both know that it won't be the last one. When the time comes, the world will still need heroes. And when the fighting is over and history is written… I can only hope that we will be remembered as more than just heroes. I hope that we will be remembered as I will always remember us… As friends.

And the typeface used in the comic is--or is very close to--Lucida Handwriting Light, which used to come free with a lot of Microsoft products.

I also have a rough mock-up of the entire letter.

#what if? fallen son #marvel #marvel 616 #616 #resources #reference #tony stark #iron man #captain america #steve rogers #posts I created #marvel civil war #616 civil war #civil war 616

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hungermakesmonsters · 8 days

Text

Love, Sick Love

Chapter Two

Plot summary : Working at one of the shadier bars in Brooklyn, you have one rule; don’t mess around with the patrons. Most of them are criminals, dangerous. None more so than Billy Russo, but Billy believes that rules are made to be broken. Especially your rule. One lapse in judgement is all it takes for Billy to decide that you’re his, and he’s never been the sort of man to take rejection well.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Explicit, rough and dirty smut. All chapters will deal with dark and smutty themes, including but not limited to stalking. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.2k

A/N : This one goes from 1 to 100 very quickly 😅 .

CHAPTER ONE

Master List

Chapter Two

He followed you into your apartment without comment or question. His eyes stayed fixed on you, either because of disinterest in his surroundings or because he was too focused on you to care. Billy watched as you shrugged off your jacket and threw it onto the sofa and proceeded to kick off your boots.

Modest was a nice word for your apartment, empty was another. Aside from basic furnishings, there wasn’t much there. You didn’t even own a TV. From the look of the place anyone would have been forgiven for assuming you had just moved in or you were getting ready to move out. The sad truth of the matter was that it was neither.

But Billy didn’t seem to care.

You led him into the kitchen, trying not to look at him, trying not to think too much about how you’d let a man you didn’t know the first thing about into your home. Without a word, you grabbed a couple of clean glasses (the only two you owned) but, as you leaned down to get the vodka bottle from one of the lower cupboards, your back ached and you let out a hiss of pain.

“You okay?” He asked, stepping closer as you stood back up.

“Fine,” you answered automatically.

“You're so full of shit,” he said, a hint of annoyance slipping into his tone. “Lemme see.”

It wasn't a question and Billy didn't wait for an answer before pulling at the back of your top, revealing tender, bruised skin. You pulled away from him almost instantly, knocking his hand away.

“I said it's fine.”

“I'm just trying to help,” he told you, barely holding back his irritation.

“It's not your problem.”

He looked ready to say something, like he was ready to argue with you, but he seemed to think better of it and, instead, just offered a shrug. You kept your eyes on him for a second more before returning your attention to pouring drinks for the both of you.

His fingers met yours as you handed him the glass and he held you there for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours, filled with a wanting that stoked a heat in your stomach. Once he released your hand, you knocked back your drink, hoping to quell the feeling but it only seemed to get worse.

Billy sipped his drink slowly, his eyes not leaving you.

“What?” You finally asked.

“What?”

“Why do you keep looking at me like that?” You asked, pouring yourself another drink.

“You know why,” Billy answered without hesitation, completely unashamed and unembarrassed.

And you did know. At least, you knew enough; he wanted you. You just weren't sure why.

“You don't even know me.”

You didn't expect that to get a laugh from him.

“Well, at the moment I don’t even exactly know myself,” he said with another one of those awkward one-sided shrugs. “At least... not the last few years.”

Your expression softened and you gave him a confused look.

“What do you mean?” You asked, even though you had an inkling. “What happened?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Somehow, he seemed almost amused by it, but there was a discomfort in his smile that said more than his words ever could.

“You don’t remember anything?”

His head shook. “No, but I figure that’s probably for the best.”

“How?” You asked, struggling to follow his chain of logic (if, indeed, any logic at all was involved in his thought process).

“Look at me,” he said, and you did, only not at his scars. You got lost in his eyes again. “Whatever did this to me probably wasn’t good, so I don’t know if it’s something I want to remember.” He was silent for a moment, then; “makes us kinda perfect for each other though, doesn’t it?”

“How?”

“You don’t want anyone to know you, and I can’t remember who I really am...”

“I don’t -” you started to defend yourself, hating that he’d managed to read you so easily.

He took a step towards you, halting the moment he noticed you tense. You weren’t sure why you did, you didn’t think he was a threat or that he’d hurt you, but something about him made you nervous. You didn’t trust yourself with him. That was the problem. Every time he looked at you, every time your eyes met his, you felt butterflies in your stomach.

“I’m sorry if I scared you earlier,” he offered softly, though it didn’t sound like he was sorry for his actions, just the fact that you’d been around to witness it.

And you weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you told him, defiant.

Lifting your glass, you took a slow drink, not wanting to give away the effect that he had on you. The cheap vodka burned its way down the back of your throat, stoking the warmth in your belly, a warmth that only seemed to burn hotter when he looked at you. And it wasn’t long before the heat was spreading down to your core.

“You should be,” he said, quietly, darkly.

“Why?” You asked, refusing to show anymore weakness in front of him. “Are you dangerous?”

“Oh, kitten, you’ve got no idea...” he answered, the grin on his lips causing your breath to catch.

“Kitten?” You repeated, unimpressed.

“You’ve got sharp claws and no sense of danger, but you’re so soft and fragile...”

It should have been your cue to say goodnight, to thank him for helping you and walking you home, and show him to the door. But it felt like things between you had shifted again and part of you wanted to see where it would lead.

You finished your drink and he did the same, his every reason for being there disappearing with that last mouthful, but he didn’t move or offer to leave. And you didn’t ask. You didn’t want him to go. At least, not yet.

“But I think you like the danger,” he offered, his voice quiet but certain. The grin on his lips grew and your thighs clenched. “I think it turns you on.”

Silence fell. You couldn’t bring yourself to deny it, not when his gaze dropped to your cleavage, watching the awkward rise and fall of your breasts beneath your tank top, pebbled nipples pressing through the fabric.

“Oh, really?” You rolled your eyes and stood a little straighter. “And what makes you think that?”

“‘cause you invited me in,” he started, “‘cause you haven’t asked me to leave yet, even though you’ve seen what I’m capable of.”

“You haven’t seen what I’m capable of,” you countered, not sure why you were indulging him.

“You shouldn’t tempt me, kitten. You might not be able to handle what you get...” Billy warned, smirking as his eyes moved to your chest again as you drew a deep breath.

There was something in the way he looked at you, something that felt almost predatory but found that you didn’t mind it. It was nice to have someone look at you that way, like his world would end if he couldn’t have you. You wondered when he was last touched, when he last remembered being touched. The scars on his face still seemed fresh and, even though he did a good job of hiding it, the trauma he’d been through seemed fresher still even if he couldn't remember it.

As he held your gaze, Billy dared to step closer, watching every flicker of emotion to cross your face. Trepidation, curiosity, arousal, and fear. You felt at war with yourself, the heat in your stomach and a throbbing between your thighs wanted one thing, while your brain and common sense wanted something else entirely. You barely knew him and had no idea what he was capable of, or what he was involved with.

His tongue slipped across his lip and your heart lurched in your chest. Neither of you had spoken in going on a minute, both of you were just staring, waiting to see if the other would make the first move.

Billy cracked first, taking that final step, his body pressing you back against the counter while his hand slipped around the back of your neck, pulling your lips to his. It was everything you expected from him; a domineering kiss that took far more than it gave, his tongue unceremoniously pushing its way into your mouth when your lips parted to let out a whimper of pain at the way your back was forced against the counter.

But any discomfort you felt was quickly forgotten and you lost yourself to the kiss, indulging in whatever this was, losing yourself in the sort of kiss you’d never experienced before. The men you saw were normally so gentle with you, and you’d always told yourself that that was what you wanted but Billy was already making you question everything.

He shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor. The kiss continued until your hand moved to his face, your fingertips grazing one of the more prominent scars. He inhaled awkwardly and let out a low, animalist rumble from the back of his throat.

His fingers gripped your wrist, wrenching your hand away from his face and he pulled back a fraction to stare at you. Anger and anguish warred for place in his expression, his hold on your wrist so tight that it was almost painful. It should have scared you but, somehow, it didn’t. In fact, it sent a thrill through you.

“Do they hurt?” You dared to ask.

He didn’t say anything. It didn’t seem like he could. It was as if he was caught in the grip of something he didn’t know how to escape, something he couldn’t verbalise or come to terms with. Trauma that he didn’t know how to handle. As he looked at you, you looked right back, finally letting yourself look at his scars.

Even with his face marked and marred, there was more than a hint of handsomeness. It hadn’t been a lie when you’d said he was fuckable, but now you were really looking at him, you could tell that he’d been beautiful before whatever had happened to him. And, maybe that just made it worse for him.

“They don’t bother me,” you told him, trying to wrestle him from whatever thought had him in its grips.

When he didn’t respond, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his scarred cheek, trailing kisses along the raised mark. His chest shuddered against yours and he let out a ragged exhale. You took that as a sign to continue kissing his scars. When he seemed settled, you dared run your tongue over one of them, and Billy came to life again.

His lips captured yours, reasserting his dominance over the moment and over you. If the way he kissed you hadn’t been enough to tell you that he wanted you, the way his body pressed against you certainly did. As he moved closer you felt his erection through his jeans, pressing against your hip.

But you didn’t have time to think about it, not when his free hand started to trail up your thigh, taking the fabric of your skirt with it. The more he kissed you, touched you, the harder it became to hear the little voice of reason in your head. He was dangerous. Violent. You didn’t know the first thing about him. His other hand was still gripping your wrist, holding you in place. There were so many obvious red flags, so many reasons not to do this, but none of those reasons were enough to stop the way you trembled under his touch.

He parted your legs with his knee, and you let him. You let his hand slip higher and higher beneath your skirt and between your legs, despite knowing what he’d find. Another dark and possessive sound rumbled in through his chest as his fingers grazed the lace of your thong and he cupped you through the increasingly wet scrap of fabric.

“If I’d known this was all you were wearing under your skirt, I would’ve saved us both some time and bent you over the bar,” he muttered against your lips, as if he was angry that he waited so long to have you. The combination of his words and the press of his fingers pulled an eager gasp from you. “You like that? You like the thought of me bending you over the bar and fuckin’ you hard?”

“Yes,” you whined without thought or hesitation.

As if rewarding your honesty, Billy slipped his fingers beneath the fabric and finally touched you, his long fingers trailing through your arousal. His teeth nipped at your lip and the sudden pain caused you to let out another gasp, a gasp that became a moan as his finger slid between your walls.

“Already so wet for me,” he said in a low voice, his lips lingering close to yours but pulling back every time you tried to reignite the kiss. “Knew this was turning you on.”

You reached for the bulge in his pants, palming his cock through denim.

“I’m not the only one,” you muttered, sounding a little out of breath.

As he grinned, you took the opportunity to kiss him, shutting him up before he could say anything else. Already you could tell that his dirty mouth was going to be your undoing, and you wanted this to last. Your legs trembled beneath you like they might buckle at any moment, but you didn’t care. His fingers finally released your wrist and you were able to grip his sweater at his waist.

A second finger slipped inside you and your head fell back, a needy moan erupting from you.

“Mmm purr for me, kitten,” he groaned.

At any other time you would have rolled your eyes, but the way he was touching you, the way he was making you feel. It was as if he’d already made himself intimately familiar with your body, as if he knew exactly how to draw pleasure from you. His fingers bent and scissored inside you and you cried out again, already feeling an orgasm starting to build, the wet heat of your body clenching around him in anticipation.

You didn’t notice the knife until you heard it ripping through the fabric of your tank top from bottom to top and, by the time you realised it was happening, it was too late to stop it. The fabric parted, exposing you, but before you could think to protest, his head bowed and his lips started to press kisses along your breasts.

Arching your back, you leaned into his touch, completely giving yourself over to him. His lips closed over your nipple, sucking and nipping at the hardened peak, while the hand between your legs continued to move, fucking you with his fingers.

Every touch was rough, assertive, dominant. Taking, not giving, making demands of your body. Everything you thought you hated, everything you thought you never wanted But, now that you had it, it felt so good that you could only want more. It was like he was awakening a side of you that you hadn’t realised existed, a side that craved a man like Billy; a man who knew exactly what he wanted.

By the end of the night, you knew you were going to be covered in the marks of his affections; bruises where he’d gripped too tight, hickies and bite marks where he’d gotten too excited. But you didn’t care. You actually wanted him to keep going, to be rough, to take what he wanted from you.

“Your tits have been driving me crazy all fuckin’ night,” he groaned, running his tongue around your nipple in a way that had you clenching around his fingers, and then -

You saw stars, coming harder than you had in a long time, and the fact that it was on his fingers had you wondering just how explosive the main event was going to be. Your whole body shook and, if he hadn’t wrapped an arm around you, you were certain you would have crumpled to the floor, a trembling wreck.

Rendered speechless by the pleasure he’d forced your body through, you could only watch as his hand lifted from between your legs and his fingers slipped into his mouth. His eyes closed and he groaned as he sucked his fingers clean.

Just the sight of it had your cheeks warming. Maybe Jenna had been right, maybe this was what you’d been missing out on.

“I need a proper taste,” he groaned before lifting you onto the counter.

Without prompting, you parted your legs and pulled up your skirt, hoping to save it from the same fate as your top as the knife appeared in his hand again. You felt the cold blade against your thigh for the briefest of seconds as he cut away your thong. It shouldn’t have turned you on - none of this should have turned you on - but you felt yourself tremble and clench in anticipation.

“Look at that,” he groaned, brushing his thumb over your still-sensitive folds before parting them with his fingers. “Prettiest little cunt I’ve ever seen.”

He continued to tease you for at least another minute, paying more attention to your pussy than any man had in years. Your cheeks continued to warm and you felt like you should be ashamed, but there was no denying your arousal and the way his attention had you desperate for him.

“You’re practically dripping for me,” he groaned, his slight and teasing touches becoming too much for you to bear.

“Then do something about it,” you answered back.

Your words seemed to break whatever spell he was under, and he looked back up to meet your eyes, the grin on his lips almost turning sinister. He leaned down, the wet heat of his mouth finding the wet heat of your body. There was no teasing, no slow build up. His tongue slid through your arousal in quick, greedy swipes, like he was trying to devour you, like he was trying to make you lose your mind.

And it was working.

“Please,” you begged, leaning back against the wall and pressing yourself against his eager mouth as his tongue circled your clit. “Oh, fuck, Billy...”

The scratch of his facial hair against your thighs added to the roughness of the moment, and your pleasure. You’d only just come for him but you already felt another orgasm starting to build inside you. It shouldn’t have been so shocking but you couldn’t remember the last time a man had made you come more than once in a night (if they even managed to make you come at all).

He pulled your legs over his shoulders, almost causing you to slide off the counter, pulling you against his hungry mouth in a way you couldn’t escape - not that escape had even crossed your mind.

Your body was thrumming with pleasure, every stroke of his tongue causing you to tremble and moan. Your hands gripped the sides of his head, his hair buzzed too short for you to pull on, keeping him held against you as you came. Though it quickly became clear that Billy didn’t need holding in place, he had no intention of pulling away, his tongue continuing to lap against you until you had to beg him to stop.

He didn’t even give you a chance to come down from your high before scooping you off the counter. Your arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him as he navigated your apartment with ease, finding your bedroom without help while you tugged off his sweater.

Billy dropped you onto the bed and, this time, you saw him pull out the knife, the blade appearing from the handle. But before you could say anything, it was tearing through your skirt.

“Hey -” you started but stopped as he looked at you, folding the blade and dropping it back into his pocket.

“You know how many guys wanted to fuck you in the little skirt tonight?” He asked, though you were certain he didn’t want an answer.

Was he jealous? Is that what had caused all of this? Just some petty jealousy?

“Apparently I have that effect on men,” you answered back.

Rather than responding, he started to undo his belt, then his jeans. You took in the sight of him in the dim light, your eyes dropping as his pants and boxers did. You got your first glimpse of his cock, hard and standing to attention, but he didn’t give you time to appreciate it before crawling onto the bed on top of you.

Your heels pressed into the mattress as his hips lowered to meet yours, grinding the length of his cock against you. A desperate moan tore from your lips, needy and eager for more.

“Top drawer,” you managed to gasp with the last shred of your sanity. “Condoms.”

Billy made that sound again, that rumbling in the back of his throat, an animalistic sound that sent sparks of desire through you. It was almost enough to change your mind and let him fuck you bare like he obviously wanted, but you weren’t that stupid. You’d known him for less that forty-eight hours and what you were doing was already risky enough.

His eyes left you long enough to reach into the drawer and retrieve a condom, tearing the wrapper open with his teeth and quickly setting about rolling it down his length. You couldn’t help but glance down, between your bodies, to look at him, biting your lip in anticipation. When he was ready, he tapped his cock against your swollen and sensitive clit, causing your breath to catch.

Your lungs burned as you held onto that breath, biting down on your lip even harder as you felt his sheathed tip starting to stretch your dripping slit as he slid inside you. You finally exhaled sharply once he’d pushed past that first inch of resistance and started to fill you at a leisurely pace you were certain wouldn’t last.

“Fuck. I knew you’d be tight,” he muttered, grinning down at you. “I knew this sweet little cunt wasn’t getting used enough. Don’t worry, that’s gonna change.”

He looked down at you, expecting a response but you simply returned to biting your lip, overwhelmed by the promise in his words and the feel of his cock filling you.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked the attitude out of you,” he joked, “I’m just getting started.”

“Fuck you,” you managed to groan between panted breathes.

Billy laughed. “You first, kitten.”

As you opened your mouth to respond, his hips jerked forwards, driving the last couple of inches of his cock into you in a way that had your eyes almost rolling back.

“Fuck,” you whined as he stilled, every hard inch of himself buried between your trembling walls. Your back arched, head pressed back against the pillow, and your hips desperately shifted trying to adjust to the size of him.

“Next time, I’m fucking you bare,” he muttered in your ear, and you couldn’t tell if it was a promise or a threat, but the rough, dark tone of his voice was enough to make your walls flutter and clench around him. “Gonna make you feel the cock you’re gripping so tight, kitten.”

His hips drew back before you could even think to respond, almost pulling out completely before slamming back inside you, tearing a desperate cry from your lips. Then he started to fuck you, rough and hard, setting a pace that he wanted and not stopping to check if it was okay with you.

(Fortunately, it was more than okay with you.)

“You like that, don’t you?” He asked, knowing you couldn’t answer between the moans and ragged breaths he was already drawing from you. “You like being fucked hard. You’re gonna be able to feel me inside you for the rest of the week...”

Wrapping your arms around him, you tried to hold on as he took complete control. Your nails tore into his back but Billy didn’t seem to care about or even notice any pain you were causing. In fact the way you were holding him only seemed to spur him on, and he soon lost himself in the roughness of the moment.

Your hands shifted, one of them pressing to his shoulder, fingernails biting into skin, and Billy tensed. It wouldn’t occur to you until later that it was the shoulder that had been seemingly causing him discomfort earlier - you were too out of your mind to even think about that.

Suddenly his fingers were on your wrist, taking hold of one hand, then the other, pulling both of them up until they were pressed into the pillow above your head. One hand was all it took to hold your slender wrists in place, effectively pinning you beneath him. He barely even slowed as he restrained you and, once he had you pinned, his thrusts became harder, the sound of his body meeting yours filling the room.

You’d never experienced anything like it before. You’d never wanted anything like it before. Never once in your life had you thought you were the sort of person who’d enjoy being completely at the mercy of some man you barely knew, letting him fuck you however he wanted, but you were enjoying it. You were loving it.

Your mouth fell slack and you gave up on trying to hold back the sounds that were desperate to escape you; his name, guttural moans, and pleas for more, for him not to stop.

Pulling, you tested his grip on you, causing his hand to tighten on your wrists. You gave another tug, wanting to push your luck just to see what he’d do.

“Don’t make me tie you down, kitten,” he groaned, starting to get breathless. “Be a good girl for me.”

He kept you pinned, kept taking everything that he wanted from you, pushing you higher and higher. You almost wanted to struggle against him again, just to see if he really would tie you down but, even in your fucked-out state, you weren’t willing to trust him that much.

You cried out his name as you suddenly came again, your body shivering and shaking, completely overwhelmed by him.

Bill pulled out, leaving your body trembling and clenching around nothing. For a moment you thought that he was done, that it was over - and, honestly, you would have been more than satisfied if it was.

Instead you found yourself rolled onto your stomach before he pulled you up on all fours. A mindless cry tore from you as his cock filled you again and he started to fuck you from behind. Try as you might to lift your head, you felt boneless and exhausted, completely undone by Billy. But then you felt his fingers in your hair, pulling, tugging, forcing you to turn and look at him. He wanted you to see him.

“That’s it, kitten, let me watch you lose your mind,” he groaned as your eyes struggled to focus on him.

Every rough thrust forced a moan from you, each louder than the last. His free arm slipped around your waist, holding you tight, making sure you stayed exactly where he wanted you.

Your own arms shook and trembled as you tried to support yourself, and your back arched more and more with every drive of his hips, wanting to feel him as deep as he could get. You felt drunk, and not from the vodka you’d necked. You were drunk on the moment, on him, on his cock, and on every filthy word that left his lips. You’d never been with a man who’d treated you in such a raw and carnal way.

“You’ve creamed all over my cock, kitten,” he grunted, his hips slamming forward in a way that made your eyes roll back.

It didn’t make sense, you couldn’t understand how he’d managed to stoke a fire inside you that burned brighter and hotter with every passing second. Is this what you’d been missing out on by only picking safe guys?

“B-Billy,” you gasped.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, breathless and grinning, not slowing for a second. “Gonna come for me again?”

You couldn’t answer, whatever you’d wanted to say to him had left your head just as quickly as it had entered. All you could do was moan in response, your body quickly giving in to him again.

He let go of you as he came, letting you fall forwards onto the mattress, continuing to fuck you. His thrusts turned frenzied, fucking you into the bed as he chased his own orgasm.

Your body was trembling so much when another orgasm hit, that it barely even registered that he pulled out and rolled you onto your back again. Hazy, half-shut eyes looked up at him as he knelt over you, pulling the condom off and quickly starting to jerk his hand along his cock, finishing himself off.

A low grunt spilled from him as he started to come, and you felt it sputter onto your stomach and chest, and up your neck. Your eyes met his when you felt his thumb on your chin, urging your mouth open, and you let him slip the tip of his cock between your lips to swallow the last few spurts of cum.

Your tongue ran over his tip a couple of times, earning another low groan from Billy and one last little trickle of cum. His chest was heaving as he looked down at you, seeming like he was lost for words for the first time in his life. All he could do was let out a breathless laugh as he collapsed beside you.

It felt like you couldn't have moved even if you’d wanted to. You felt humiliated, dirty and degraded, overwhelmed and - and you’d enjoyed it. You'd loved it. It was the best sex you’d ever had. Your body was still thrumming with pleasure, trembling from his rough treatment, and it didn’t feel like it would ever stop. You’d never experience anything like it before. You’d never felt so good, so alive. Suddenly, you understood what you’d been missing out on.

“Jenna wasn’t kidding, you really did need someone to fuck your brains out,” Billy said with a contented sigh.

You barely had the strength to swat him with your hand. All you could do was take a series of slow breaths as your body slowly came down from the heights he’d pushed it to.

Your eyes closed but, before you could fall asleep, you felt him wipe you clean with the tattered remains of your skirt. Then he pulled you towards him, holding you tightly, possessively, in a way that you hadn’t expected. In fact, you’d expected him to leave once he’d gotten what he wanted from you. Instead, you fell asleep in his arms, held against his chest like this was anything more than a meaningless one night stand.

The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was the press of his lips against your forehead.

End Note : I shocked myself and let Billy go feral in chapter two this time 😅 From here on out things are going to start getting darker.

Thank you so much for the positive response to chapter one, I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! As always your comments/likes/reblogs/asks/general screaming is always appreciated. I hope you all have an amazing weekend!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt (and on AO3 at some point in the hours after).

Tag List : @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @sweetserendipity65 @dreadfulxives18 @snowkestrel @ladyblacky

@readingabouthim @cheshirecat484 @broadwaybabe18 @oliviaewl @lincerad

@benbarnesprettygurl @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @whereismymindnow

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #dark!billy russo #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #lsl ff #stalker!billy russo

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joeys-babe · 9 months

Text

Joey B Imagines: Call It What You Want

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Summary: Joe makes your first anniversary something you'll never forget. After some bumps in the road, Joe shows you there can be smooth sailing ahead.

Warnings: None, fluff, barely mentions of sex

Pairing: Joe Burrow x reader

Imagine universe: Everlasting Love

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December 20, 2023

(y/n’s pov)

Day two of staying with Joe in Cincinnati, and I couldn't be happier.

Today was extra special because it marked one year of Joe and I being a couple.

I woke up to tiny kisses being littered on my cheeks. A small smile spread across my lips without me even opening my eyes.

When I finally did, my eyes locked with those ocean-blue ones that I had fallen in love with the first time I saw them.

“G’morning, pretty girl.” - Joe

“Good morning, Joey.” - you grinned

Joe was leaning over top of me and gently lowered himself to place a huge kiss on my lips.

“Happy anniversary.” - Joe

“Happy anniversary, baby.” - you

“Can you believe it's been a year since I asked you to be my girlfriend?” - Joe

“It's felt way longer than that. Probably not seeing each other for two months made it feel like a longer amount of time.” - you

“I promise you’ll be here with me soon, full-time. That is… if you want to.” - Joe

I leaned up in bed and looked down at him, who was now lying on his back.

“Are you asking me to move in with you when I graduate?” - you

“Do you want to?” - Joe

“Yeah…” - you smiled

“Good. We can go back to Athens whenever because that's where both our parents are. If you want you can start slowly moving your stuff here every time you come over.” - Joe

“I would love that.” - you grinned and laid back down

Joe wrapped his arms tightly around my waist and held me against his chest.

“I can't wait to wake up to you every day.” - Joe

“Me too. Opening my eyes and seeing your gorgeous blues is something I'll never get over or take for granted.” - you

I ran one of my hands over Joe’s cheek and rubbed my thumb under his eye. That perfect smile found its way onto his lips.

“You’re so handsome, Joe.” - you

“Well, you are absolutely gorgeous and I can't wait for you to live here with me, it kinda gets lonely sometimes in a big house by myself.” - Joe

“Well trust me, you aren't gonna feel lonely with me here.” - you

“I know… fuck I’m so excited.” - Joe

“One more semester, Joey.” - you laid your head on his chest

I’d be finishing college this spring, and finally be done in May. My commencement ceremony wouldn't be till fall though.

——

After breakfast, Joe sent me upstairs to get ready and said I wasn't allowed to come downstairs till he said so.

Joe said I didn't have to put anything fancy on, and that comfy would be best, so I wore a pair of leggings and stole one of his sweatshirts.

After getting changed, I headed to the top of the stairs.

“Joe! Can I come down?” - you

“Almost! Give me like one more minute!” - Joe

I waited patiently, feeling a soreness between my legs as I stood there. Last night was so good, and Joe 100% made up for the two months without sex.

Before I could get lost in my thoughts over last night with Joe, the man himself snapped me out of them.

“Okay, you can come down, baby!” - Joe

I excitedly trotted down the stairs to find Joe waiting for me at the bottom of them.

“Should I be scared?” - you

“No.” - Joe laughed

When I got to the last step, Joe gently took one of my hands and led me to the living room.

A smile formed on my lips and I squeezed Joe’s hand when I saw what he had been doing.

There was a fort made out of a ton of blankets taking up the majority of the living room.

“Awe, babe. You made this?” - you

“Yup, after way too many, like an embarrassing number of instructional videos.” - Joe

Laughing as I faced him and got on my tiptoes, Joe and I both leaned in to kiss each other.

His arms wrapped around my waist as my hands found their place on Joe’s chest.

We stayed there for a second, intertwined.

In the end, Joe pulled away and started showing me more of his fort, which he was very proud of.

“I know we had breakfast a little bit ago, but there's a box of pizza in there for whenever we get hungry. Uhm… I have some movies picked out for us to watch. What else… oh and I have a gift for you.” - Joe smiled

“A gift? Joe, we exchanged our anniversary gifts a couple of days ago, remember? We couldn't wait to give them to each other.” - you

“I have another one for you.” - Joe

“You've already done so much though…” - you

Joe rubbed my back and pulled me back into his chest.

“And you deserve even more.” - Joe

“I love you.” - you mumbled into his built chest

“I love you too. Wanna get in the fort?” - Joe

“Yes!” - you

I excitedly broke away from him and knelt to get inside the fort.

When I was fully lying down, Joe followed behind me. His big 6’4 self barreling into the blanket fortress, causing me to bust out laughing.

“Shit, that wasn't the romantic entrance I was going for.” - Joe hid his face in a pillow

Running my fingers through his hair, I pulled on Joe’s blonde locks to pull his face away from the pillow.

“I love your silly self, now come up here and cuddle with me.” - you

“Yes ma'am.” - Joe smirked and crawled up the blankets

He cuddled into me, and I quickly became the little spoon to Joe.

“You comfy?” - Joe

“Mhm.” - you moved back against him

Joe abruptly grabbed my hip to stop my backing up and I flashed him a look over my shoulder.

“Just… don't do that. It'll end in this fort tumbling down.” - Joe

I giggled at the sexual tone behind his words before lacing my fingers with his. The hand of his was connected to the arm he had thrown over my waist. Joe’s arms were so long and thick, who wouldn't want to cuddle them?

——

A movie and a pizza later, Joe and I were feeling full and tired.

“It’s three o'clock but I want to go to bed. I don't know why I'm so tired.” - Joe

“I am too, baby. Wanna take a nap real quick? It's probably the comfort of this damn fort that's making us tired.” - you

“Aye! Don’t make fun of my fort!” - Joe

“Joseph, I’m not. I'm saying you made it too comfortable!” - you

Joe and I both drowsily laughed at each other before trying to find a comfortable cuddling position to get into for sleep.

Just as my eyes were drifting shut, Joe abruptly sat up behind me.

“Wait! I have to give you your gift.” - Joe

I watched him with a smile on my face as he wiggled himself out of the fort, coming back later with a gift bag.

Joe handed it to me, but I waited for him to get settled before I would even acknowledge the gift.

“Here, my love.” - Joe

“Should I be scared?” - you

“Babe, that's the second time you've asked me that today. I'm starting to think you don't trust me.” - Joe

“I do trust you! I'm teasing.” - you

A few seconds passed of us just smiling at each other till Joe spoke up.

“Open it.” - Joe

Opening the gift bag, there was a small box inside of it. Probably jewelry.

I looked up at Joe to see him smiling at me, I could sense nervousness behind his movements.

Pulling the box out and bag setting the bag to the side, I opened the box to find a gold chain necklace with a ‘J’ pendant.

“Awe, baby. I love it.” - you

“Here let me put it on you.” - Joe

Joe took the necklace out of the box after I handed it to him and maneuvered himself behind me.

He moved my hair to the side and placed a big kiss on the back of my neck, then put the necklace around my neck and clasped it.

When he sat back down in his spot and saw his initial resting on my chest, identifying me as his and his only, I saw the blush on his cheeks deepen to a rosy shade I’d never seen before.

“It looks great on you.” - Joe grinned

“Thank you, baby. I think J’s are a good fit for me.” - you

“I think so too.” - Joe leaned in and kissed you

There was no other boy’s initials that I'd rather wear than Joe’s. He showed me what true love is, and though we'd only been together for a year, I knew he was the one I’d be with for the rest of my life.

With all of the odds stacked against us and everyone saying it wouldn't work, Joe and I tuned out the noise. All because Joe showed me that all that mattered was the fact we were so in love.

All the drama queens taking swings, all the jokers dressing up as kings, they fade to nothing when I look at him.

So yeah, call it what you want.

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Authors note: A fic not posted after 9 pm?!

Request for this fic;

Hope you enjoyed! 💕

#joe burrow #bengals #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow x reader #joey b #cincinnati bengals #joe burrow fan fic

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taylor-titmouse · 9 months

Text

2023 Book Retrospective

it's pretty much the end of the year, and i've never done this before, but i wanted to take a look at what i managed to do in 2023 and share some of my thoughts on it! i published five novellas this year (though i didn't actually write one of them) plus the public release of the demo and first huge update to You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain. that's a lot!

so let's dig into all that. this will contain some spoilers for the books, because it's hard to talk about them without talking about what's in 'em, so maybe check out my itchio first and grab anything you missed! (but also.... perhaps wait until this weekend before you buy anything. shh.)

You're A Mage on Monsterfuck Mountain, released in March

TECHNICALLY, the demo was finished and available on patreon around the end of last year, and didn't become public until I'd finished the garden update, which i did finish this year. and what a massive fuckin THING that was. 60k words! 50 illustrations!! the biggest thing i ever put out and technically finished, and the beginning of a move to being less afraid of writing "weird" sex. there was so much bee sex in it. arguably too much bee sex in it. which i'd left entirely til last to do which meant i was writing nothing but bee sex for weeks.

this was the first time i let myself really indulge in writing dubcon for the bad endings, and it was a lot of fun. very often it was more interesting than the deliberately horny routes, because it meant writing a way to be put in the situation, and also making it hot every time. i'm very much of the philosophy with dubcon that even if the situation wasn't Ideal for the character, they're still going to get good sex out of it. i believe i put it at another point as, i'm here to write the pleasure of helplessness, not suffering. to that point, the dubcon endings for the armor, the dryad, and the queen bee were my favorite bits from this.

the fact i never got a second update out this year is a big regret. i finished a bunch of the routes for it, but ultimately i wanted to have things i could release! shortly after publishing the demo and update, i officially put my webcomic on hiatus so i could focus more on my graphic novel, and also spend more time on my writing. having that extra time is probably the only reason i was able to write as much as i did this year, and i didn't want to spend it toiling away on a serial project i couldn't release for months at a time.

which leads us to the release of my first novella of the year...

House of the Risen King, released in April

now this is when i truly said "i'm just going to write what i think is hot and interesting and not worry about how it's perceived!!" and went whole hog on exhibitionism and monster dubcon cult horror. house was mostly inspired by the ending of Hereditary, and was originally going to be more poltergiesty and played more straight, with vee being harangued by a bunch of horny ghost-demons and nothing more sinister than that. but i've had cult shit percolating at the back of my brain forever, and i wanted to play with ideas i'd first developed in shadow in the shelves with rituals and shadows, so here we are! the scene of hettie fingering vee in the bathtub while vee's god-fucked out of her mind is my favorite.

fun fact, the original seed for this book was actually going to feature max and mortis, my photographer/model couple (that link goes to cohost because i wasn't posting here yet when i was drawing them the most). the idea was they'd go do an urban exploration shoot and mortis would start getting fucked by a ghost while max filmed it, but the more time i spent with those characters the less i wanted to involve the supernatural. which meant i never wrote their book, and had to make a new character to do the idea. and then it wasn't even that idea anymore.

that's writing, folks

Roger Crenshaw: The Dogs at Duskfall, released in June

... which makes it ironic that the next book is one i didn't even write! r/l monroe @mortalityplays has been my friend for years, and was my editor for a long time (until he got a REAL JOB and didn't have TIME to edit anymore. sobs, cries, kicks a stone and walks into the distance). he's also always been an incredible writer, and for my birthday this year i asked him to write me something. i asked with the expectation of a little short story about our old tabletop RP characters, or a fanfic scene for one of my books he'd edited.

and then he wrote me 20,000+ words digging into the character of roger crenshaw and who he is that perfectly summed him up and tied all his stories together, such that i don't think i ever need to write another one. he did it, he wrote the perfect ending to roger. AND he did it using my favorite of his ocs from our tabletop campaign, AND there's some really hot and sweet smut in it. AND HE DID IT IN LIKE TWO WEEKS.

i loved it so much that i asked if i could illustrate and publish it as an official novella, and to my delight he agreed, and it was so so nice to collaborate with him on it. even if it meant beating our heads against the wall for 30 minutes about the placement of certain images on the page.

this was a great tragedy. i'd drawn the vagina one first, but an image earlier in the book had to be moved, which affected the placement of everything else. the vagina image had been perfectly at the start of a new page, and then suddenly it wasn't. so i had to do the penis one instead for better placement. tragic!!!

it's hard to pick a favorite scene in something written entirely, lovingly for you. how can i choose between the characters' pitch perfect semantic arguments on the nature of folk lore, the millenium princess-ass memory hopping, or the really really hot smut? i can't. i love it all. thank you r/l for being so good at what you do and writing this for me, i'll treasure it always.

The Dragon Double Feature, released in May

apparently this came out in may, and not july. i don't know why i've been convinced this came out in july. oh well i can't be bothered to insert it on top of the roger one.

anyway. THIS book. this book exists because i believe at the time i was a bit blocked, and wanted to just write SOMETHING. for a long time i've had the idea of a dragon wrecking a princess' wedding and fucking her in front of the congregation just sitting in my back pocket. it was the 'i know i could just slam this out if i wanted. i don't have to care about it it's just sex and then it's done' fallback idea, and i finally did it!

and then it was too short. i don't like the idea of publishing anything less than 10k words for full price, so i was like. okay. alright. i've always thought fucking an eastern dragon would be hot and have this other idea i was going to use for roger (back when i had an idea for every monster possible for roger), let's just write that. kenta is only kenta because i took a poll for what body type i should pair with a dragon (he was 'big boy', i think the other options were twink, older woman, and average woman). and i was also Really into the movie inu-oh at the time, which is probably obvious with kenta being a blind musician, lol.

the musician and the waterfall was tougher to write because i didn't have a clear vision of how it should end or even how they should fuck (the mechanics of fucking long noodle dragon have challenged me for years) but i'm ultimately pleased with it. it would have been a long time since i wrote something sincerely romantic, and it was nice to go back to it. i'm a HUGE romantic at heart.

both stories are pretty much one extended scene so it's hard to pick a favorite moment from them, but i will say i'm very pleased with how i approached writing the musician and the waterfall, specifically in the challenge i set myself to never use visual description kenta couldn't reasonably guess. writing from the POV of a blind man made me focus in on different senses and ways to describe them.

this book is also, as of right now, my best seller. which is great! i love that for me.

The Dragon Double Feature 2, released in July

okay i guess THIS one released in july.

anyway i got stricken with the curse with this one. a lot of people wanted me to write a sequel, but i wasn't going to. and every time i say i'm not going to do something, i end up doing it. it's so annoying. this one only happened because i wanted to write a SHORT! a SHORT extra for patreon describing kenta and wakatake's first time having sex as humans.

and then i wrote too much preamble describing their time on the beach. and then i got emotionally invested in unpacking their actual relationship, and also added a third character with mrs arakawa, and had to bring it all together into a story that was coherent and had something to say about the way they loved and ALSO ended in a THREESOME because WHATS THE POINT OF INTRODUCING A THIRD CHARACTER if they aren't all going to FUCK TOGETHER!!

it was tough. but i'm really, really happy with it in the end, and think it's one of the best things i've ever written. my favorite scene is definitely them playing with the hermit crab on the beach. metaphors babie.

the gundrid/eveline story is fine too. lmao. i NEVER PLANNED TO WRITE ANOTHER WITH THEM!! i only did it because the idea of publishing a sequel to a story from a double feature without writing a sequel to the other half of the feature was insane. and now eveline and gundrid are some of my most beloved characters, to the point of writing another book featuring them...

The Tenebrous Tower, released November

yet another book i'm pretty sure i was like 'i don't need to write this. this character doesn't work for a story on his own, what am i ever gonna do with him' and then i dumped a bunch of fantasy characters into a jar with him and suddenly i had a story. I ONLY MADE ROMICK BECAUSE I WANTED TO DRAW FUCKED UP WIZARD PORN AND MY ONLY OTHER OPTION WAS A GRANDPA!!!

anyway i started writing it as something to do on vacation, and it was just gonna be a bunch of dungeon bdsm vignettes until i hit on a throughline and suddenly i had a story and an emotional arc and damn i did it again. i did it again. i have a book.

i was expecting this one not to do very well because it had multiple prerequisites, but because i am a master of my craft i made sure to write it so you didn't need to read those. and then people read it without reading those. so it worked out anyway and now it's done just about as well as dragons 2. the people love romick, but they especially love the idea of him being destroyed. maybe someday. maybe someday. (except on patreon, where it's already happened)

the final vignette with the doll is, of course my favorite. i think it was a lot of people's favorites.

............................................

and that's everything i published this year! honorable mention to my novel starbuster, which i'd written most of last year, then spent all of october this year revising with the intent of finishing it, only to run out of steam by the time i was done revising it. so it's exactly where i left it last year. just better written. god it would be nice to finish that fuckin thing next year.

my goals for 2024 are, of course: release more books!! i have a big project i've been working on illustrating for the past month that i'd like to release in january, and i've also been working on a spin-off one-shot with mrs arakawa and an oni. i think this coming year i want to Try to blast through some of the one-off ideas i developed this year so they'll quit banging cowbells in my brain. like the sleeping garden. it makes me insane i never actually wrote the sleeping garden.

anyway if you actually made it to the end of this, thank you!! if you've bought all of these books, double thank you!!! i've been able to pay my rent and expenses just with my adult work this year, and it's been amazing and fun and super fulfilling. thank you for supporting me in 2023, here's to a horny 2024!!

#tt talks writing #taylor titmouse

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flowerandblood · 10 months

Text

The Prince and The Fox (6)

[ modern! • Aemond x friend! • female ]

[ warnings: threats, angst, mention a toxic relationship ]

[ description: After the events of her childhood, despite her best efforts, her neighbor and the younger brother of her friend Helaena, Aemond, does not want to know her. This state lasts until a house party organized by his older brother, Aegon, during which an incident occurs that will change their relationship forever. Slow burn, angst, toxic ex-Alys, rough Aemond. This is several anon requests combined into one fic. ]

WARNING: The main plot between the characters takes place in high school. Yes, in high school. The belief that teenagers wait with an intimacy when they are in love in high school is ridiculous to me. Aemond and the character here are the same age. Don't ask me how old they are, in my country you are of the age of consent in your first year of high school and an adult in the last year of high school, so if it is more convenient for you, think about it that way and decide for yourself. In this story, I am not following the trail that they are magically friends right away, but how they become friends and what that even means. I'm writing this fic to give the perspective of young, lost people, not adult women who want to see exactly themselves in everything they read. If that's all you expect, this isn't the fic for you.

I don't want whining about this in my comments or asks. I will delete these and block you. You have been warned.

Aemond + Evans Series Moodboard

This is my first story that has its own playlist, but yes! Get in the mood!

Story Music Playlist

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Never before in her life had she missed a class for any reason other than illness, bad form or some important trip. As it turned out, so had he. They went into a shop to buy something to drink and sat on a bench in a nearby park, watching people walking around.

She felt that he wanted to tell her something, felt that all this was not without reason.

He grunted after a long moment, opening his can of Coke with a loud pssst, he didn't look at her.

"She doesn't want to give me a break. She keeps texting me and calling me even though I don't answer. She's totally fucking out of her mind." He grinned, taking a deep sip of his drink, she heard the hiss of bubbles inside the can. He wasn't looking at her, just ahead.

She wondered what he wanted to hear.

Friendly advice?

"Why did you two break up?" She asked straight out, deciding there was no point in wrapping her mind around it.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Because she was praising me to the skies one time and humiliating me the next. She made fucking shit out of my brain. If it wasn't for Helaena I'd probably still be in it." He muttered, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, watching the passers-by.

She blinked, pressing her lips together, feeling a squeeze in her heart at the thought that he was trying to open up to her, trying to let her understand.

To be honest with her.

"Do you want to see?" He asked suddenly, pulling his phone from the pocket of his black sweatshirt, taking another loud sip from his can in the meantime. She looked at him surprised, unable to believe that he really wanted to show her their private messages.

"I've got some interesting screenshots from a few months back." He muttered, leaning back and moving towards her so that their shoulders touched, showing her his display, scrolling slowly through the next messages with his finger so that she had time to read them.

"She had a habit of deleting messages like that afterwards, so I started saving them to remind myself when I missed her what she really thought of me." He chuckled, locking his phone again, tucking it into his pocket.

She felt her heart pounding hard, felt some kind of discomfort and pain.

"How long did it last?" She asked uncertainly, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He pressed his lips together, taking another deep sip from his can.

She remembered she had her juice and opened the wrapper to take out her straw, then stuck it in the carton and began to drink with a loud slurping sound.

He shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn't believe it himself.

"Two years. I've broken up with her a couple of times, but in all seriousness it was only a month ago. A fresh case." He muttered lowly, sipping the rest of the Coke he had in the can and crumpled it up, tossing it into the dumpster standing next to his bench.

A month ago.

When Aegon organised a house party.

She lowered her gaze, tightening her lips, hesitating to ask him the question that was pressing on her lips.

She decided she had to know.

"Why did you want me to stay in the room with you then?" She asked in a trembling voice and felt him cast her a quick, surprised glance. He grunted loudly, clearly embarrassed by this memory and scratched his cheek, licking his lips.

"I don't know. I…it just felt good with you, you know. So…tenderly." She muttered, tracing his fingers across his forehead, his head tilted, he was unable to look at her.

Tenderly.

"Do you regret it?" She asked in a tired voice, and he gave her a quick glance.

"What? I… fuck. No. It was one of the more pleasant things that's happened to me in recent times. So… innocent. The kind that when I think back on it, it makes my heart warmer." He confessed with shame, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her blue orange juice carton, fiddling with it in her hands.

"I don't regret it either."

They said nothing more.

They went back to school for the last few hours and pretended nothing had happened. Driving home from school they listened to music together again on her earphones, sitting with their eyes closed. She saw his display light up from time to time, that his ex-girlfriend kept sending him new messages, desperate. He didn't even read them.

She asked him why he didn't just block her number, but he said he had done that before and then she simply buys a new card. According to her, he was just upset with her and was teasing her, pretending to be interested in someone else to make her jealous because she couldn't imagine that it was possible to stop loving her.

She thought with regret that she had found herself an easy target, a high school student, quiet and closed off, with complexes, who would never share with anyone else what harm she was doing to him and how she was slowly destroying his self-esteem, manipulating him and making him dependent on her.

They said their goodbyes and parted ways to their homes, however, she felt that something had snapped between them and even though she continued to feel uncomfortable and sad, she thought that this time he really took it seriously, that he really wanted to try.

Whatever that meant.

She recognised that they both needed a lot of space and that what they had now suited her.

She didn't hide her surprise when he called her in the evening when she was already lying in bed, preparing for a maths test. She answered with her heart beating hard, wondering what it could have been about, whether he wanted to wish her goodnight.

"She was recording us." He said as soon as she picked up, not even giving her a chance to say hello, despair in his voice, she felt like he was almost crying. She swallowed loudly, feeling a tightness in her throat.

"What do you mean?" She asked, lifting herself up on the bed to sit down, concerned.

"How do we…how do we…I…you know. God." He mumbled in a breaking voice and drew in the air loudly, breathing unevenly. "She's threatening to send this to the school principal if I don't come back to her. To our friends. She sent me one video to show me she's not bluffing. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

She pressed her lips together feeling the cold sweat on the back of her neck, her heart pounding like crazy, the seriousness and awfulness of this situation hitting her so hard that she didn't know what to say, what to do.

Of course he couldn't tell his parents or siblings about it.

"I… God, do you want to meet? M-maybe, maybe we can work something out." She mumbled with difficulty, not knowing what else to suggest, how to help him.

"Yes… yes, if you can, please, I can't stand being at home now."

She quickly dressed a warm sweatshirt over her pyjamas and told her parents that she would go out to talk to Helaena for a while.

She left her house and ran across the street with her trainers on her feet, he was standing far from his house, she saw to her shock that he was smoking a cigarette, his one leg moving in a nervous tic.

He was terrified.

She approached him and he threw her a quick, heartbroken look. He chuckled under his breath, rubbing the tip of his nose with the back of his hand.

"I know what you're thinking. I got what I deserved." He muttered in a trembling, low voice, and she shook her head in disbelief.

"What are you babbling about? Don't you have something on her? I don't know, can't you send her the screenshots you have, the ones where she humiliates you and say you'll send them to her friends too? Don't you have any naked pictures of her that you can scare her with?" She asked, speaking quickly, thinking intensely about what solutions he had. He shook his head.

"I deleted everything a month ago, I didn't want to go back to it, and she herself deleted everything from our chats that might be saved somewhere on the internet. Like she fucking planned it." He grinned under his breath in despair and took a drag on his cigarette looking sideways, his eyebrows arched in anguish, despair and regret, a single tear running down his cheek.

"A cyclops and a pervert. Fuck, that's what I needed. Why did I get involved in this." He uttered in a breaking voice, running his free hand over his face, all red.

She walked over to him and stroked his shoulder, looking at him with distress mixed with understanding.

"Come here." She said softly, and he sank into her arms as if without strength, snuggling his face into her neck, embracing her loosely, and cried aloud, her hands stroking his hair and back with tenderness.

"It's not your fault. You trusted her and she took advantage of you. What she's doing now is monstrous and she has no right to do it. You are not to blame." She said and kissed the side of his head softly, his free hand clamped down on her blouse, she felt that her neck was all wet from his tears.

"I'm so fucking scared. I'm frightened that my parents will see this." He whimpered like a small child with a shuddering breath, and she hugged him tighter, trying to embrace his large figure, to give him the shelter in her arms he so desperately needed.

Her heart was breaking.

"I know, I'm with you. We'll figure something out in a moment." She whispered, stroking his head and back reassuringly and felt his lips place a gentle kiss on the skin of her neck. She felt a warmth in her lower abdomen and a pleasant tickle between her thighs.

They stood like that for a moment until he calmed down, and then they sat on the pavement, their knees and shoulders touching. She slapped her hand on his thigh, getting a sudden idea.

"I know! Write her that if she sends this out, you will report with the same video to the rector of her university that she forced you to have sex before you were of the age of consent. You can go to jail for that!"

He looked at her shocked, tightening his lips, thinking strenuously, hesitant, terrified and uncertain.

"But…it's not true."

"How does it matter? She threatens you, so you threaten her! Clearly there is a big age difference between you, what she was doing was just plain grooming. Knowing that you were in high school when she videotaped it and on top of that you were younger than you are now, the police would certainly have taken an interest. Maybe you would have lost your dignity, but she has a lot more to lose. This will make her loathe sending anything anywhere!" She said with conviction, saw him lick his dry lips with his tongue, that he was increasingly convinced of her idea.

"Okay. Then what should I write her?"

She sat next to him looking at the screen of his phone telling him aloud what she thought he should write to sound as confident as possible, when they finished he swallowed loudly and clicked 'send'. They saw that she had read the message immediately and saw surprised as a wave of messages started to come in from her.

They looked at it in silence breathing loudly. She heard him swallow with difficulty, tense.

"Do you think she'll send it?" He asked in a trembling voice.

"No. She is shitting herself with fear."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

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666writingcafe · 3 months

Text

A Revealing Conversation

Lucifer

I don't know what exactly prompts me to do this, but I find myself walking inside the library with a cup of coffee in my hand. The door to the attached study is slightly ajar. Poking my head in reveals Zephyr fast asleep with their head resting on top of the desk. Setting the mug down on an empty spot on the desk, I touch their shoulder and gently shake it, successfully waking them up.

"What time is it?" they ask, rubbing the sleepiness out of their eyes.

"Eight," I respond."

"Morning?"

"Yes. I brought you coffee." Zephyr gives me a quizzical look. "I made a pot for myself, and I didn't want it to go to waste." A partial lie, but I don't want them teasing me if they knew the truth: that I intentionally made enough for the two of us to share.

"Thanks." They take a sip of the coffee, making a face as soon as the beverage hits their tongue.

Which is odd. I don't recall burning it.

"Oh, don't mind me," Zephyr tells me, setting the mug back down. "Some blends of Devildom coffee tend to be too bitter for my taste. I do appreciate you grabbing me a cup, though. It'll definitely help me feel more awake." They pause briefly. "Just out of curiosity, what did you use this morning?"

"Something called hell coffee, I believe? The person that helped me pick it out at the store said that it's rather strong, so I figured that meant it had a decent amount of caffeine in it."

"I see." They look slightly amused as they pick the mug up again. The next thing I know, they're downing the coffee like it was a shot.

Which I've only seen Diavolo do. It's not like I've done it.

Another lie. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

Zephyr softly smiles, appearing to pick up on my confusion.

"Someday, you'll understand why I did that, but for now, just know that some of the foods and drinks around here are laced with magic." Before I can tell them off for being vague, they turn their attention towards the biggest stack of paperwork and begin working through it. I should take that as my cue to leave them alone so that they can focus on what Diavolo assigned them.

But I don't. I can't.

I quietly sit down in one of the chairs across from them and watch them work for a moment. They seem poised, even when doing something this menial.

Even when punishing my brothers. How can they remain so composed when I want to scream and bang my head against the wall?

It just isn't fair.

"Something on your mind?" Zephyr asks, glancing up at me. If it weren't for the genuine curiosity in their eyes, I would've simply brushed them off by saying I was simply staring off into space or something.

Instead, I ask them,

"How can you stay calm in all this chaos?"

"Years of practice," they answer, still focused on their paperwork. "And knowing that there will always be quiet periods where I can decompress."

"What about in the moment, when you're confronted with it and can't escape it?"

"Well, that's when I start cursing to myself. The key with dealing with chaos is to not let your frustrations show. If the people around you sense that you're upset, then they're more likely to reflect those emotions back at you, making everything that much more tedious to slog through."

"What would you call last night, then?" Zephyr appears to contemplate my question as they continue working.

"Karma." In an attempt to hold back laughter, I end up going into a coughing fit.

"Hold your arms up," they instruct. "It'll relax the muscles enough for you to breathe properly." Surprisingly, their advice works.

"Better?" I nod my head. What I feel to be an awkward silence settles between us, but given their peaceful demeanor, it's probably just me.

"You can stay if you want, Lucifer. I don't mind your presence. We can continue talking, or you can simply enjoy the quiet if that's what you'd prefer."

"How are you not scared of me?" The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Pardon?" Zephyr's giving me their full attention now. I shouldn't have said anything.

Because now I can't hold back anymore.

"Most people either see me as a heartless monster or put me on this ridiculously high pedestal. They get so nervous around me that they can't even string two words together, let alone have a proper conversation with me. I wish I can say that my brothers are exceptions to that, but I can't. I still see the fear in their eyes sometimes when they look at me. The only way I've been able to have some degree of companionship is with those in the same position of authority as me, and even then they have to get used to me first before they feel comfortable around me.

"I think you might just be the first to see me as a normal person. Even Diavolo looks at me like I'm a shiny new toy, and he's the closest thing I have to a friend in this godforsaken place. I just don't understand how a previously low-ranking demon is able to do the one thing no one else has been able to do in my entire existence. What do you have that they don't?"

Zephyr sets their pen down. I wouldn't be surprised if they told me to leave. I just dumped a whole lot of trauma on their lap without seeing if they were okay with it.

"Many years ago, I met someone that was pretty similar to you," they respond. "He intimidated everyone they came into contact with due to both his attitude and position. He also tended to push anyone that wanted to get close to him away. I didn't let him do that to me. Even when he screamed at me to go away, I stubbornly stuck around. After a while, he decided that he might as well trust me if I was that determined to stay by his side, and he did. It didn't happen all at once, but little by little, he allowed me to see the more vulnerable, intimate sides of him that he previously kept to himself.

"So, to answer your question, Lucifer, I'd like to think I have a pretty decent amount of patience and compassion. Certainly more than a lot of people in this world."

"Do you still keep in contact with him?" I ask after several moments of silence. The question seems to make Zephyr a bit sad.

"Unfortunately, no. I was forced to move far away from him and assume a new identity. To reach back out to him would put both of us in harm's way, and I care too much about him to do that to him."

"Do you love him?" They don't answer me initially. "I understand if you don't want to tell me. I'm probably overstepping my boundaries--"

"Yes." They look directly into my eyes. "I miss him every single day. If circumstances were different, I would have married him and spent the rest of my life with him. But that simply isn't possible."

"Zephyr, I--"

"It's not your fault, Lucifer. You didn't know." They softly smile. "I've learned a long time ago to not dwell too much on the past, because then you end up missing out on the present, which is chock full of fun and exciting opportunities. Instead, it's best to think of the past as lessons that you've learned, and to use that knowledge to help you grow and develop as a person. Does that make sense?"

Before I can respond to them, someone loudly knocks on the front door. Zephyr hits the power button on their phone to check the time.

"Son of a bitch," they mutter.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, I told Solomon to pick me up at around nine so that I can drop stuff off at home before we run some errands. It's just that I hoped to be more or less ready to go when he arrived."

"I'm sorry, Zephyr. If I'd known you were expecting him--"

"It's quite alright!" they exclaim. "No need to apologize. I enjoyed talking to you."

Has the study always been this warm, or is it just me?

"I'll at least help you gather your stuff." Zephyr smiles.

"That'd be lovely, Lucifer. Thank you."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #two things #one #the person that zephyr/mc is referring to is the lucifer from their timeline #that's part of why they look directly at past!lucifer when they answer his question #two #past!lucifer is TOTALLY blushing at the end

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akuworld777 · 4 months

Text

The newspaper

Tim had told Kon all about the cloning incident, so a year later Tim hadn't really thought about it but now Kon was in his Wayne office wondering, why because Bruce refused to take over the company again unless that Tim would finish his education, but getting back to the point , Kon was there with a book in his hand, a book very very similar to Tim's diary, the diary he started after his dad's death, the diary in which he planned the murderer's death. of his father, even if in the end he did not kill him, diary where all the cloning data is, where each documented attempt is, where…. Where Tim goes crazy and Kon has the diary…

I had thought that he had hidden it, Tim had hidden it with all the cloning things, with the capsule, the generator, the data, the DNA. Tim had hidden it and if he had told Kon the address when he confessed to him about how he had tried it. clone in case he wants to go see, or destroy it, Tm's actually not sure why he told him that, hell he's not sure why he didn't burn everything to the ground, Probably because he was thinking of trying again, after all He only stopped because Cassie intervened and Bruce disappeared, he wasn't dead, Tim had brought him back and he wasn't dead, he wasn't crazy.

Actually Tim had thought that Kon would destroy everything and if he didn't he wouldn't find the diary, but he did and now he's probably here to tell him what an idiot he was, how disgusting he is for trying to clone his best friend 99 times, for that matter. How he kissed Cassie just to feel it, how he planned to use his DNA if the 100th attempt didn't work, trapping him with a baby, it didn't matter that at that moment Kon was dead, that there was actually no one to catch, god Tim It really was disgusting, wasn't it?

Too caught up in his head he didn't notice the intense look Kon was giving him, though his thoughts were cut off by a laugh, “I can't believe it, Cassie told me you were sick when me and Bart died but, I can't believe it.” I said that you kissed her to feel me” probably because he didn't know, Tim thought, although the thought didn't last long as he focused on what Kon was saying. "And although I knew about cloning, I didn't really expect you to have tried so hard, Tim, you were actually going to make a baby with our DNA, as if it were a husband who died and you were the mother who decided to keep the child to remember her dead loved one, it's very soap opera-like”

Tim felt like those words were digging into his conscience. Kon was saying it as if it were something absurd, he didn't seem malicious or angry, but his words felt wrong, it felt like he was making fun of what Tim had gone through, of his feelings. of his unrequited love, as if everything he did was nothing more than a bad joke, as if his mourning was worthless.

Kon seemed to realize the state Tim was in because he stopped laughing, examining him as if he were seeing him with his x-ray vision, examining him thoroughly. Unlike Bruce, Tim didn't mind being used, he felt seen in the way his parents never saw him.

Kon obviously realized something, because Tim felt the tkl pull him closer and suddenly he was trapped in the muscular, tanned arms of a Kryptonian, Tim felt himself melting in the embrace as Kon's ever-present warmth sank into him. his bones, relieving phantom pains that Tim had not even realized were there, it was like returning home, to his home, a home that seemed to have been missing for a while, he could not contain the sigh of satisfaction, but he did not regret leaving it. He left especially because Kon hugged him tighter and surrounded them both with his tactile telekinesis.

"I'm sorry, I didn't express myself well," Kon's voice sounded right next to his ear. that someone could do so much for me, could have fallen so low, could have I've suffered my loss enough to try everything." Tim felt a chill as Kon spoke, while that voice tickled his ear, but he also felt conflicted, a conflict between telling him that it wasn't that big of a deal and telling him that anyone would have done it, Cassie is proof she went and joined a cult because of his death, that he deserved that recognition, that he deserved people to worry about him, but he bit his tongue and let Kon continue instead of interrupting to express how incredible it was. It was Kon and how much it affected everyone that he was not there, how much it affected him.

“I don't want to say that what you did wasn't fucked up, damn it's actually kind of funny I'm a clone and you decided that to bring me back you were going to clone me instead of going to Constantie and making some deal with a god or demon.” Tim continued listening to Kon but made a mental note to dabble in necromancy since Kon seemed open to that and get more blackmail on Constantine, hell next time he would throw Kon's body in a lazarus pit or just jump in a building, before being without him again. As if Kon read his mind, Tim felt a tug on his hair which Kon had been stroking earlier and saw the disapproving look the super gave him.

"I'm sorry… I don't know what happened to me, you were gone, so many people were gone." Tim buried his face in Kon's shoulder. "I was just thinking about bringing you back, about bringing at least a part of you back." lap" Kon sighed “I'm not asking you to apologize Tim, I actually thought you were going to be much worse, it doesn't mean I approve of this but if I had come back to life and you had managed to have another me, I wouldn't have been angry… if you had achieved the “Baby, I wouldn’t be mad either…” The silence after that was louder than if this had been a shouting match, Tim once again confirmed that bats are not made for feelings… or maybe the trauma was simply preventing him from being good at feelings, or something. Maybe it was negligence.

Kon clarified the guarantee and spoke again, “Actually, it had been a year since all this and I probably should have talked to you since I read the entire diary, but I kept putting it off because I didn't know how to tell you this… I didn't know how. explain my feelings and I didn't know if I had really understood yours correctly, the hell I chose this moment because Cassie threatened to destroy the diary if I didn't talk to you and…and I thought that now that a year has passed, it probably won't affect you that much…" The pause felt like a shock so Kon wasted no time in continuing quickly.

“Probably what you feel for me is already gone and I thought if that's how I can deal with rejection… I can deal with that, I'm used to not having much luck in romance and this is Rob, he wouldn't make fun of me or nothing, our relationship could continue….” Kon's voice became lower and lower as if he felt unsure of continuing, but Tim couldn't pay much attention to that, because Kon had just confessed to him, to Tim Drake, he had just confessed and he was actually thinking. that Tim would reject him, he thought that Tim would have gotten bored of him because it had been a year, just a year and Tim wanted to hit him because Tim had been feeling something for him since they were only 4 in young Justice and Kon thought that one year he would to be enough to make Tim forget about his feelings, to make Tim reject him.

Kon had arrived with the damn diary where Tim poured his soul, his sorrow, his pain, his mourning, his love and he had tried to take it with humor as he always did with serious topics trying not to get hurt, the trauma appeared in many forms and everyone They had a way of dealing with him, Kon had always used humor, kind of like Dick. He probably planned to pretend that everything was a joke if Tim rejected him, but Tim would never reject him so he took a deep breath and separated from the hug, the TKL let go easily but at the same time seemed to want to keep him there, Kon looked at him sadly, he seemed resigned and Tim couldn't allow that.

"I still like you… If you hadn't come back in the middle of my search for Bruce, I probably would have done the baby plan after bringing Bruce back, put my DNA and yours in a capsule and spent months hiding creating fake IDs, buying a house, getting a fake job, in some random country and I would have raised the baby there.” It may not be the most poetic or emotional declaration of love, hell in reality he hadn't even said that he loved him or that he liked him but Tim was a vigilante, above all he was a bat and practically Tim's entire life had revolved around heroes and That Tim is confessing to Kon what is basically that he was going to retire from being a vigilante with a test tube baby of the two, was very significant.

“I liked you from the beginning of Young Justice, I may not have loved you that early but I liked you, and after breaking up with Steph I realized that I wasn't that interested in her, because the breakup didn't hurt me that much. Instead I was more focused on the fact that we were going out the next day and that I had nothing to wear, damn Steph helped me choose what to wear because she had also realized it long before me", "you are, nice handsome, you smile seems to light up the day, your hugs are like scorching the home, I can feel the heat, the comfort, the affection, you are like a respite from the pain, the memories are the discomfort, you never judge anything, damn it, I tried to clone you 99 times and you keep saying that you don't blame me for it, even knowing that you had a lot of problems regarding your identity due to cloning, you always support everyone, you always seem to know everything, you never push me or anyone to do things I don't want to do, Hell, when my parents weren't at Christmas or when Bruce and I were arguing, you were the angriest, you always defended me, you gave fucking Jason Todd a threat for trying to kill me, you…" Tim could have spent hours talking about everything good about Kon if he had the time he would even show you his power point and his graph of over 100 reasons why Kon was a unique, admirable person and anyone who said otherwise was obviously a villain, but he couldn't since warm lips that felt like the sun on the morning of a spring day rested on his lips, effectively silencing him.

Tim had priorities and preferred to indulge in the kiss than in his talk about why Kon is the best person in the world, sue him, if Superboy kissed them they surely wouldn't be able to think, much less continue with a speech.

The kiss was perfect, not in the traditional way after all, Tim. And him still didn't know what the other liked and it was a little awkward for it being the first kiss they shared, but the feelings were there, every movement of lip to lip, They told praises of love and professed devotion, each touch was warm and moved the heart of the other, it was a promise, a prophecy fulfilled, a river that overflowed as the minutes passed and the feelings of each one were transmitted in the kiss.

The only thing that brought them out of their concentration was the noise of a pile of leaves falling to the floor. They quickly separated. Tim had thought that Kon had dropped the newspaper but unfortunately they were not so lucky. His assistant Katerin, the substitute since Tam was sick, had just seen 18-year-old Tim Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, kissing Superboy… Tim would have to pay her so much to keep quiet.

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