#i was like...i GOTTA. i cannot pass up this opportunity
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finally investing in a real setup for vinyl records like a real vinyl owner. we are so back...but also it's so OVER bc i fear im slipping into real Insane collector brain it's all i think about right now
#the turntable/speakers i bought are barely used secondhand/refurbished so they were like a great price AND better for the enviro etc <3#i love you kijiji........picked it up at the seller's house yesterday and he showed me how it sounded etc and didnt kill me so thats a win#but dw i take precautions <3 did not go alone etc LMAO. im just always nervous with picking up from buying sites lolol#also yes i shamefully did have one of those garbage suitcase style ones for a bit but i couldnt stand it any longer...fhjsbajhfbsj#and when i stumbled across a turntable i was humming and hawing about for a while bc of the price for $100 on kijiji barely used...#i was like...i GOTTA. i cannot pass up this opportunity#the initial listing had speakers but they sold before i contacted </3 so i found the exact same ones refurbished online lolol. win for me
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get work done while at home on break (impossible challenge)
#literally CANNOT focus or be productive and the instant i do something comes up#since this happens literally every time i think i should just accept that i can't get work done at home and shouldn't try anymore#but alas i have less than 2 months to finish my thesis that i've had to completely revamp and for which i have (as of today) written two (2#sentences#so i have no choice but to grind this week!#literally HOW did i manage to pass my first year of Zoom University living at home#p#society if if i actually knew what i was doing and was able to pick a thesis topic i actually knew i cared about instead of scrambling.....#i do actually enjoy research and writing but i totally dropped the ball and now this opportunity to explore in depth something i really car#about has turned into a super overwhelming and stressful behemoth that i just want to be done with at a level of quality that's passable to#my advisors et al#:(#whatever it's fine lmao#i just gotta hit a Writing Groove⢠but it seems like i only reach that state after an intense session of panic LMAO
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the way it follows you home, the stories i never told
My guy Vox once again graced us with lovely Goyuu fanfics, and the way it follows you home, the stories i never told, made me go FERAL.
Time travel? Two Gojou Satorus? Double affection for our sunshine Yuuji? Yuuji sandwich? What feels like possible continuation of (you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become???
FUCK.
I need to stop indulging my imagination too much. I shouldâve been content with writing long-ass comments but noooooo, my brain goes âyou gotta draw itâ. DAMMIT VOX, YOU AND YOUR DELICIOUS WRITINGS HHHHHH
So⌠usually I shouldâve picked a favourite scene that is within my drawing capability, but I just⌠love all three chapters??? So I made a questionable time investment? I canât stop??? Help???
This is probably the most ambitious fanart project Iâve ever done so far. Fair enough, considering I might combust if I keep these welled-up emotions inside from reading Voxâs Goyuu fics. Fuck.
Fic info:
Title: the way it follows you home, the stories i never told
Author: @voxofthevoid
Pairing: YuuGoGo. Future!Yuuji, Future!Gojou, Teen!Gojou
(idk why I laugh writing YuuGoGo. Iâm beyond help)
Currently, it is 3 chapters out of 8. And itâs gonna be NSFW chapter 4 onwards, so donât forget to read the tags first, folks!
The drawings are under Read More, because I have lots of thoughts surrounding each chapter and drawings. Itâll be hella long if I didnât hide it here. It was a mess down there. A combination of hours before, during, and after I read said fic. Iâd say good luck finding the art among the sea of jumbled words but⌠youâll find them easily. Donât worry about it haha
SPOILERS FOR ALL 3 CHAPTERS! I highly recommend reading those first before diving into these drawings!
Also for the comics, read from right to left please!
From here on, I will be referring to the Future!Gojou as Gojou and the teenage one as Satoru.
Overall, drawing all these is fun! Really fun! This project pushed me quite hard, forcing me to test my limit (because I rarely draw this much back to back). Since this is a combination of drawings and comics, the coloring style will not be consistent. In a way, I want to try some brushes I never get to use, as well as try out my new graphic tablet. Drawing these got me giggling because I was finally able to let loose during line art. It's much easier to do so, and sometimes I just get to reread the fic and giggle to myself for the nth time.
CHAPTER 1:
Whooo. Whoooooooooâ
Ok, ok, the premise is just that good. It intrigued me, fascinated me, and I just⌠oomph. I cannot refuse a Time Travel Yuuji Sandwich. Sign me up.
Honestly, there are two scenes that are just⌠a bit too clear in my mind when reading this chapter. That would be the one I drew above, and the other is when Yaga called Gojou to come outside of the class. I love, loooove how Vox wrote Satoruâs POV. And when Yuuji fucking giggles?
I lost it.
Can you imagine, drawing Yuuji grins, with shiny stuff, maybe some sunlight, just purely happy and indulging Gojou?
Help me, for I am drowning in my love and adoration for Yuuji.
Page 2 is an experiment on using harsh black as shading (kind of?). I really enjoyed colouring Yuuji, and drawing those buffalo skulls! I wish I can grasp the concept of contrast a bit better tho :v
CHAPTER 2:
This is probably the only chapter where I picture still images instead of comic panels. A bit like those cool chapter covers in mangas. The one I really, really want to draw is the scene with Satoru on the table. Canât pass the opportunity to highlight Satoru being a brat, albeit a really cool brat.
Cool idea drawing always proves to be a challenge, because of course my artistic skill just so happens to be below the requirement. Thank you, Sketchfab, for the chair and deskâs perspective otherwise Iâm screwed lmao
The second scene that I want to draw the most is this:
Gojou is one step away from climbing Yuuji. Also, I have a bit of a problem picturing a man pouting that makes him look crazy instead, so please have Gojou pouting adorably instead. Because, as Yuuji said (with love), Gojou is (also) a brat.
This is possibly my favorite art in this project, after Yuuji's in Chapter 1 page 2. It's clean because I don't have to draw background, and I was having a fun time drawing Yuuji. And Gojou's squishy cheek as well.
Oh, actually, there is a âmangaâ scene in this chapter. Itâs when Yuuji said, âI love Satoru.â
I justâ
AAAAAHHHHH YUUJIIIIIII YOU AND VOX ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. That secure relationship between Yuuji and Gojou? Satoruâs description of how Yuujiâs smile could blot out the sun??? Not me screaming đ I also see bits of hints of possible co-dependency, though I could be reading those wrong, but either way Iâm good. Secure and possessive relationships are fun to consume hhhhhh
But yeah. There are too many wholesome Yuuji smiles in this fic, and I⌠I am not confident enough to draw genuine happiness. Itâs too much for me â ( á ăâ )ďźż
For this chapter, another reason why I chose these two scenes is just because I want to try and draw cover-worthy pictures of Yuuji and Satoru, and Yuuji and Gojou (cough)
CHAPTER 3:
We start the chapter with Nanamin. Ah, Nanamin. I forgot what his teen self looked like and was surprised to see his design again lmao
I want to draw Yuuji and Nanami scene because⌠I just want to, I guess. I have never drawn him before (Yaga as well) so that's an interesting challenge. I got two ideas on how I want to draw it. One is a bit painting-esque, and the other one is like another chapter cover. In the end, I chose the cover one because I want to emphasise the difference between teen!Nanami and the Nanami from Yuujiâs original timeline, and how the watch feels like a connection between the same (yet not) person. Itâs a bittersweet feeling? In a way?
Iâm not really good at explaining my intention â ( á ăâ )ďźż
I love Yuujiâs answer to Nanami's question.
AND FINALLY.
A Yuuji SandwichTM scene.
And oh B O I do I love it. Have I told you I like every chapter? I probably have. But this one? Satoruâs curiosity, Yuujiâs on-brand self-deprecation, and Gojou come strolling down to show more of Yuuji to his mini-self. I want to draw this whole scene, from Gojou finding them, feeding Yuuji snacks, bitch-slapping Satoru into the backroom, to Yuuji growling. Them trying to hide a boner from Yuujiâs growl got me cackling so hard I LOVE IT đ
I love it all. Please love Yuuji in my stead, Satoru and Satonyan :3
Oh! Also! 40-finger Yuuji sounds really, really cool! Iâll be happy with whatever Vox will give us in future chapters, but 40-finger Yuuji⌠possible scene with this timelineâs Sukuna⌠my god. The action! The drama! The bloodshed! One can only hope.
However, as much as I love that whole scene, itâs still too much for me :â) Iâm still not yet confident in delivering the humour and action. Also my already-long drawing plan had my brain groaning in protest so I canât push my luck :'D
When Gojou said "He looks sweet, but he's a bit of a beast", I kept picturing Yuuji staring innocently, but there was an edge to his look. As if the moment Satoru looks away, he will pounce. But in the end I just stick with innocent-looking Yuuji because I accidentally drew his eyes that way and I want to keep it in lol
Since Satoru points out how soft and cuddly Yuuji is, I also want to draw soft Yuuji :v
And the last one⌠is the last scene. For some reason, I read that both Gojou and Satoru share Yuujiâs lap and was having a frustrating yet fun time figuring out how itâs⌠physically possible, without having their butts on the ground because they both are not small at all. As I lined the art, I reread it again and⌠perhaps I read it wrong? Satoru is beside Yuuji, and not on his lap? So yeah, this one might be the least accurate, but hey, at least you can view it as a crack drawing or something :v
AAAANNNDDD I HAVE EXCEEDED TODAYâS BRAIN CAPACITY OF FORMING WORDS
Have I told you I love this fic?
âŚI probably have.
Have an amazing week (â´â˝`â)*â˛ďž*
#yuu's art#jjk-fic-fanart#jjk ship#jjk-ship#äşć #goyuu#goyu#5u#gojou x yuuji#speedrun this bad boy of a project in 3 days#from planning#now I can sleep in peace
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HELLFIRE & ICE â eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers
CHAPTER NINE â EDDIE the OBVIOUS and the LADY SPHINX
PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT
summary: a tense dinner at rick lipton's place reveals some part of al munson's reason for returning to hawkins. your saturday morning detention is tense, and you and eddie both get more than you bargained for when you crash hellfire club to profile them for the school newspaper. content warnings: MINORS DNI AS ALWAYS warnings for smut, cunnilingus, dick-fondling, p in v, reference to drug usage, slight perv!eddie, silly teenagers having silly teenage fights that actually aren't so silly (kinda antagonistic ronance version!), reference to childhood physical abuse, al munson jumpscare, lacy's dad jumpscare, both lacy's real first name and surname is used in this chapter. no description of body type. just descriptions of a good time eye emoji eye emoji word count: 16.4k
Dear Lord,Â
Grant me the serenity to accept the shit I cannot change, the courage to change the shit I can, and the wisdom to seize a damn fine opportunity when I see one.Â
Amen.Â
When Al Munson cooks a spaghetti dinner, you know he means business.Â
Once a line cook with aspirations higher than diner fumes, always a line cook with aspirations higher than diner fumes.
He learned to cook on the grill, but perfected it in the joint. During one of his stints, a homecoming tour of the state of Kentucky, he fell in with this web of wiseguys who made him stagiaire in their makeshift kitchen, slicing ghostly slivers of garlic with a razorblade.Â
Alâs insisted on the method ever since. Even now, hunkered over in Rick Liptonâs kitchen, preparing a meal for which Eddieâs already lost his appetite.Â
Eddie had already given up on the whole there are a bunch of knives right there suggestion, knowing his father loves few things like he loves performing his whole Kiss the Cook bit. He plays it to the hilt, an exercise in tart, rich, floral smarm that beats out the complex flavoring of his tomato gravy by a country fucking mile. Down to that bullshit Serenity Prayer.Â
âCourage to change the shit you can? Man, you can barely change your underwear!â Rick heartily chuckles, heaping pasta onto his plate. The way the noodles slide against each other, thick and glistening like worms full of nefarious promise, makes Eddie want to ralph.Â
He hadnât had much of an appetite for anything since heâd visited the nurseâs office.Â
He felt weird. Strung out. Guilty. And angry. Guilty like, what got into me, whyâd I do that and angry like, whyâd I leave you just standing there like that, and whyâd you let me.
âCâmon, kid, you look famished,â Al pulls that anger-inducing Cheshire Cat face, placing a solely ornamental leaf of basil on top of the dish Rick passes. This fucking asshole. These fucking assholes. In cahoots together. âWayneâs Hungry Man dinners ainât hittinâ the way they used to, huh?â
Alâs smile doesnât slice through the tension of the room nearly as clean as he wants it to. Eddie feels Wayne stiffen at his right elbow, sees Rick divert his eyes from across the table.
âWell, Dad,â Eddie says, forcibly stabbing and winding his fork through the spaghetti, âYou know what coulda solved that?â
âWhatâs that, huh?â
âYou staying out of lockup for longer than the duration of an MC5 song.â
Al doesnât falter. Eddie bets he could open-palm slap him and that shiteater of a grin wouldnât slide from his face.Â
âIâm here now, ainât I?â his father clicks his tongue, digging right into his own dish, âYou really gotta learn to live in the moment, kid.âÂ
Eddieâs spaghetti-filled mouth starts to form around the indignant words, Iâm not a kid! but Al beats him to the punch. Quite literally.Â
âThough, judginâ by those scuffs on your knuckles, looks like you did somethinâ without thinkinâ it the whole way through first. Huh?â Al slurps his pasta noisily, and Eddie feels Wayne tense even more, if thatâs possible. âWhoâs the lucky guy?â
The sense memory of silver flashes colliding with Billy Hargroveâs face in the parking lot, the sense memory of you and your vicelike grip trying to pull him off before he killed him. The sense memory of bile blowing through his veins, stumbling upon those lowlifes talk to you like that. Rage blackout. Yadda yadda.
According to rumor, Hargrove was lucky that Eddie didnât cave his entire cheek in. He still couldnât totally see out of his right eye, the swelling was that gathered and insistent.Â
Eddie lets the question droop in the air, before eventually mumbling, âSânothing. Justâ shit at school.â
Wayne had been the first one to ask him, obviously, catching sight of his bandaged hand when he came upon Eddie staring a hole intoâyou guessed itâyet another Murder, She Wrote rerun, following your encounter on the examination table.Â
Eddie had given it the brush off so Wayne had given it the brush off. He was no stranger to his nephew bearing busted knuckles, even if it did make the old manâs blood chill every time he saw it. Those interactions always reeked of you poor kid, like Eddie was the perpetual victim. Got under Eddieâs skin a little.
But Al asks him like he knows something. And Rick wonât look at Eddie.Â
âThis wouldnât have anything to do with your lovely new neighbor, would it?â Other shoe, meet short, hard drop.Â
Eddieâs grip tightens around his fork, and in the back of his mind, he summons the spirit of the sharpest tongue he knows.
âWho?â Heâs this close to prank calling people using his Lacy impression, thatâs how good itâs gotten.Â
Al cradles his cheek against his palm. His eyes, the eyes that might as well have been scooped out and shoved into Eddieâs skull, theyâre such iris perfect replicas, search his son for cracks in his composure. Al stabs, stabs, stabs aimlessly into his dinner.Â
âYouâre a lot of things, Eddie Munson,â he says, âbut you ainât dumb.â
âTruly do not know what youâre yakkinâ about. Can I eat?âÂ
âCome on, Eddie boy! You out there getting into scuffles over that little gold-plated pieceâah something?â
âCan I eat?â
âA little forbidden flame, maybe, twoâah you?â
âCan I eat?â
âCanât say I blame ya. If I were⌠twenty years younger.... Or maybe she likes âem a little more mature. Think I got a shot?â Alâs teeth are starting to grit, spittle starting to fly. Frenzied in the way heâs trying to eek a reaction out of his kid. âHuh? Eddie?â
Alâs lecherous suggestion of you toed the line of too much for the Munson men, it seems. Eddie and Wayneâs voices overlap.Â
âMaybe we leave that girl out of this, Alââ ââcan I eat, or what?â
SLAM! Alâs fist comes into direct contact with the hardwood of Rickâs dining room table, plates and cutlery and glasses clattering nervously. Rick jumps a little, groaning under his breath. Wayne drags a hand over his eyes.Â
âYou can answer the goddamn question! Shit!âÂ
Eddie, for his part, should probably feel a little scared, his dad raring up on him like that. Instead, he just lets his wound-up fork sag in a pile of spaghetti and leans back in his seat. The thing with Al Munson is thisâ his bark has always been way bigger than his bite. Especially when heâs as coked up as he is right now.Â
Ever since heâd roared into Rickâs driveway in that eyesore of a muscle car (alright, it was a little coolâ but in, like, a lame Dukes of Hazzard kinda way), Al had been operating in sharp angles and backed-up nostrils.Â
Shit, Eddie would be shocked if there wasnât residue on that razor blade he used to slice the garlic. That stupid, reckless, peacocking-as-a-father motherfucker.Â
He folds his arms, waiting for Alâs tone to pitch on down, for the tremor in his hand to act up, for him to sayâ
âSorry. Sorry,â pressed through a line of grit teeth, âI just⌠Hmm.â Itâs like Al is actively trying to plaster the mask of his charming grin back on his face but it keeps slipping out of his fingers. âSheâs a real dime. Smart as hell too, huh? Shame aboutââ
âAl, whatâre you gettinâ at with all this?â Wayne asks, and thank god he does. Eddie doesnât know how much more dancing around the subject he can take, but he wonât be the one to bend first. âWhat did you bring us up here for? And donâtââ the eldest of all Munson holds a hand up, â--say you just wanted to get together. I donât buy it. Eddie sure doesnât buy it. And if Lipton here buys it, heâs a fool.â
Al shrinks, a snot-nosed kid under the magnifying glass his big brother holds to him. âWayneââ
âYou bring us up here to make us part of that goddamn stupid high school feud with that girlâs father? You really spin out that far?â
Itâs not often that Wayne speaks up, but when he does, boy. Can that man dress a situation down.Â
Al falters. Wayne has that ability to knock him out at the knees, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask him how he does that.Â
âListen. Alright. Itâs notâ alright,â Al clenches his hands in fists, a flex in and a flex out. A gesture Eddie notices, because he does it too. As if heâs trying to grasp the last threads of trust from them. âWith that girlâs old man permanently benched so to speak, thereâs an opportunity for another batter to step up. Okay? Jail sentences get doled out like Halloween candyâwho knows that better than me, right?--but life goes on. There is⌠an opportunity here. Work still needs to get done. Work that I couldâveâ that I can do.â
Eddie knows that his dad doesnât realize heâs saying a lot of nothing, because Alâs always saying a lot of nothing. Vague promises with no real end to them. What catches him this time around is the glint in his eye, hidden behind the drug-induced one, and the glint of a gaudy ring on his finger. A green gem stamped in the middle, like a catâs harvested eyeball. Huh.Â
â... let me make good on this, boys. For once. Let me take care of yâall.â Al huffs a faux-humble breath, glancing toward Rick for some kind of illustrative reassurance. âYâknow, seeing how it screwed up that little girl, seeing her big, upstanding daddy go to jail and all, I reallyâ,â a swallow, for dramatic measure. Gunning for Best Actor here. â--felt it. Made me think, Eddie, of all the times when you were just a squirt⌠Made me wanna do right by you, is all.âÂ
âHow much of that doinâ right have you got up your nose, Dad?â Eddie sneers, putting two and two together. Of course this is what heâs back for; not to sell, couldnât possibly be that simple in the convoluted world of Al Munson, but to supply. To get a suit fitted, pretend to be the big man. âTry before you buy isnât exactly the most cost-effective policy.âÂ
âJesus, why, why have you got to make this so hard on me, kid?â Al is just about wringing his hands right now, scaling the apex of his desperation. âYou have an in! You have the in!âÂ
The in, of course, being Eddieâs connection to you, and by proxy, your dad. Alâs like a bloodhound that way, sniffing out the few good things that Eddie has going for him from miles off and tearing them right from his hands and acting like heâs doing Eddie a favor by making him his man on the inside.
âThis whole town could be ours if you would justââ
That does it. Eddie leaps from the table, chair clattering to Rickâs warped wooden floor.
âI donât want this whole town, are you fucking crazy?!â he yells, spittle flying, âAndâand I certainly donât want it if itâs anything to do with you!â
What the hell would make Al think that Eddie would hitch his wagon (which, granted, ainât in too great a shapeâheâs barely passing any classes, thanks to a pickup in business he guesses he can thank his dad for) to the living sunk cost fallacy that his father is? What the hell does Al Munson want with that kind of fantasy, one where heâs king bastard of the Hawkins cockwalk when he canât even stick within county limits for more than a couple of weeks?
Well, Eddie actually has a pretty good idea, one that occurs to him like a lightning strike as Al struggles to keep his temper level. Let Eddie look like the tantrum-throwing brat.
Yeah. Exactly.Â
Heâd wind Eddie into whatever scheme he was cooking up and ditch it, half-baked, leaving Eddie in a kitchen with all the smoke alarms going off. Elbow deep in an unsalvageable mess, because Al could never follow through on anything.Â
Heâd have Eddie exploit your relationship for a couple of instances of, âThatâs my boy.â Because Al still thought that trick worked; making him believe heâs loved, valuable, wringing every last drop of loyalty out of him because a boy needs his father⌠and a father needs his boy, yâknow!
Fuck that.Â
âWe should split.â Itâs Wayne who says it, batting away the apologetic glance both the Munson men get from Rickâ like heâs Alâs keeper or something, managing his moods. Like he isnât raking in a cash cow from Alâs great Ray Doevski replacement theory.Â
âNo, câmonââ Al half-heartedly protests, like he could still save the evening but canât really be bothered.Â
Wayne follows Eddieâs furious stalk out the door, tearing a cigarette from a soft pack as he hauls into the passenger side of the van.Â
Eddie, a tightening ball of rage, whacks the steering wheel with one good thump. Heâd been stupid enough to entertain Al these past couple of daysâ out of confusion more than anything else. Waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.
âThe in,â Eddie mockingly mumbles as the van roars to life and he peels out against scattering gravel.Â
Wayne has his cigarette pinched between his thumb and index and lets that settle for a beat or two.Â
âYou wanna talk about it?â
Fists flexing around the wheel, Eddie knows very well heâs been caught red-handed. Thereâs no way Wayne had gone this long without suspecting anything, even after heâd specifically warned him. More of a suggestion, actually; Wayne knows that Eddie will do whatever he wants, regardless.Â
Unfortunately, heâs like his father that way.Â
âThereâs nothing to talk about,â Eddie says, a shoulder shrug, a mirthless lilt in his tone. âSheâŚâ
Again, Wayne stays silent. Waiting for Eddie to tell on himself, like he always does.Â
âShe doesnât deserve to be in the middle of this,â Eddie arrives at, voice a little choked. âWhatever Dadâs planning on doingââ
âNeither do you,â Wayne reminds him. This is where Wayne and his stoicism pulls Eddie up short. Neither do you, and the only way you avoid the blowback is if you two avoid each other. But at that same time, Wayne always knows where Eddieâs heart is at. Knows that his heart is too big not to follow.Â
Even if Wayne hasnât seen you two together, laughing âtil youâre stupid like the kids that you are, canât he seeâŚ
âWhy canât this be easy?â Eddie asks, his voice small. Echoes of a littler him, one that Wayne would pick up in the truck after school. Head hanging, backpack trailing, kicking pebbles and cursing the world.Â
Instead, through a sage swirl of smoke, Wayneâs hard stare seems to peel back some. Heâs always known where Eddieâs heart is at. Eddieâs starting to think he wishes he knew less.Â
â
Jesus Christ, are you ever sick of learning your lesson. Of reflecting on what youâve done.Â
Itâs exhausting, and more to the point, pointless, and even more than that, boring.Â
Truth is, youâre beginning to second-guess your adoration of brilliant thinkers. Those motherfuckers knew too much, and in the past week, youâve found yourself yearning for the days where you got by on knowing nothing but the good stuff! The juicy gossip, where the best parties were at, what lipstick could not stand up to what nail polish! When intellectualism was a bedtime story youâd read to yourself under the fucking covers and you didnât have to decode the labyrinth of your own stupid feelings!Â
Sure, you felt like a husk most of the time, but youâd take that over this graceless stumbling shit!
You should be allowed to smash the windows out of Billy Hargroveâs car and no one should be able to say boo about it! God!
Instead, however, youâve been caught up in an as-yet-unprecedented display of seething and sulking. People are still whispering about you, natch, glancing at your belly like you wouldâve if that heinous spawnous prank was played on anyone else. At the very least, they still have the good sense to flinch when you match their stare.
Billy Hargroveâs two week suspension means you donât have to worry about seeing his ugly face, but it also comes with the two week guarantee of not seeing Eddie.Â
And the probable delay of your Hellfire article. Which is paramount. Obviously.
Speaking of Eddie, thereâs too much speaking of Eddie to do.Â
You keep replaying the sneak attack from Al Munson in your head, him sliding his aviators down his nose to get a look at you.Â
âWhat are you doing here?âÂ
âPayinâ my respects. Your father, shit. Shame what happened to him. He wasâ well. I was gonna say he was a âgood manâ, but that sounds kinda funny, donât it?â
It wasnât about Eddie, except it was about Eddie, because every stupid thing is about Eddie.
Especially the fact that youâre sitting in your college-going beauâs chariot, about to slink into Saturday detention. If it werenât for himâŚ
âLacy?â a voice calls from the driverâs seat. âYou alright?â
You snap to, rearranging your face into something definitive and sharp and pleasing to the eye. Because youâre fine! Youâd said as much when he snuck you into the basement of his parentâs houseâwhy wasnât he back in school yetâand said as much when he squirmed against you, asking you if you were okay in that weighted way that really meant can I put it in yet.Â
Youâd gotten on all fours because it allowed you to roll your eyes when he was all, oh, woah! sliding it in from the back.Â
Youâd reached around and teased your clit to attempt a climax. Trying to imitate that clumsy rhythm from the nurseâs office. It didnât quite stickâpaled in comparison, like a Simon and Garfunkel tribute act made up of people that didnât secretly want to fuck each other.Â
And then he gave you a ride this morning. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to bore yourself out of misbehaviorâ but youâd told him that you had newspaper business to attend to.Â
âIâm fine,â you brightly declare for the fourth and final time, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder. It was a weird gesture, but the shine had buffed off. Heâs cute and all, but you two had gone to see Paris, Texas at the Hawk and he didnât get it.
He didnât get how much you clowned on him for not getting it afterwards either. You hadnât been able to get it out of your head, the way he shrugged away from you at the diner as you ribbed him for his plodding misunderstanding of Harry Dean Stanton.
Coldly, you thought of the trade-off that you and Eddie had agreed on. Repo Man for Paris, Texas once it came out. You had to pretend you liked Repo Man a lot less than you actually did to swing that one, because Eddie wasnât keen to lock in to some movie about a dude crying in the desert or whatever unless you angled in the fact that you owe me for making me sit through all that machismo.Â
âYou love machismo. You wanted to nail that sweaty little punker, I saw you squeezinâ your knees together.â
âFor Emilio Estevez? Please. I had my eye on the old guy. âOrdinary fuckinâ people, I hate âemâ--that kind of shit really does it for me, Munson, you know that.â
âThat why youâve been entertaining the pleasure of my company for so long?â
âDown, dog.â
Anyway. Fuck.Â
âListen, Lacy, I gotta tell you sââ
âCanât right now! Iâm already late and Fred is gonna have my head,â you chime, all saccharine, climbing out of the car. âCall me!â You pray that he doesnât.Â
Slam. What an extraordinary waste of time.Â
As instructed, you make your way to the gym, which you think is a little weird. Detention usually denotes writing pointless, go-nowhere laments on how sorry you are for being such a bad kid, right? Think on your sins, yadda yadda yadda.Â
Typically enough, no oneâs here on time. Everyoneâs late. Youâre perched on the bleachers like an asshole, sitting alone like an asshole. Thatâs the goddamn ticket, isnât it? Youâre alone in all of this. You always have been.Â
Like, for example. The Al Munson walk-on role into the surrealist tragi-comedy that is your fucking life. You canât tell that to anybody. Not Eddie, naturally, not your mom, not Nancy because then youâd have to explain the continued and complicated Eddie of it all, not Ronnie because just because. And the ickiness of it hangs off your every move, and you canât shake it, and no one can share it.Â
Youâre beginning to wonder if thatâs true of all the parts of you. The ickiness. Itâs all a little heavy, isnât it?Â
As if on cue, hearing ickiness called by name on the wind, Mr Kaminsky pushes open the gymâs double doors.Â
âOh, what the fuck.â
âHad to see it for myself.â Your loathed History teacher says, full of glee.
âSir, if this is some kind of elaborate courting ritual, I have to say, youâre not my type.â
âCareful up there, Doevski. Thereâs more detentions where this came from.â
âFreak accident. I canât be caged.â
âWell, let me enjoy the exception to the rule!â Kaminsky claps, and you jerk at the echo.Â
You sigh so hard you almost unlatch something. âWhat elaborate torture have you got planned for me today? Want me to run laps or something? Because these shoes arenât built for that.â
âDonât get ahead of yourself, Lacy,â the teacher digs, âWeâre still waiting on your comrades.â
âIâm late, Iâm late, I know Iâm late!â a familiar voice comes skidding right up behind Kaminsky, baseball hat askew, mud stains on the knees of her overalls. âSome goddamn lunatic tried to run me and my bike off the roadââ
âRonnie?â
âHey, Lacy!â she calls brightly and breathlessly, slamming herself down on the bleachers beside you.
âRon, whatâre youââ
An unmistakable heel-click rounds its way into the gym, and in walks Nancy Wheeler with her face all pinched like a porcelain doll. She receives your big olâ center-piece-missing jigsaw puzzle of a look with a knowingly arched eyebrow.
âYouâre late, Wheeler,â Kaminsky tries, but Nancyâs already consulting her wristwatch.Â
âDetention starts at nine sharp, right?â she says, impenetrable as always. âItâs 8:58.â
âThen can I have my admission of lateness struck from the record, actually?â Ronnie asks and Kaminsky shoots her a withering one, consulting his clipboard.Â
âAlright, we got one more. Give it the goddamn two minutes, but then Iâm bumping her to suspension. You wanna count it, Wheeler?â he scoffs. Wow, so heâs like a round the clock douchebag. To everybody.Â
At what you only can assume is 8:59, the mismatched gangle of Robin Buckley comes slinking over the waxed floor, looking half-awake and pissed offâmore pissed off, you might argue, now that she registers her company. She perches on the furthest end of the bleachers, pointedly away from the loose gaggle of you, Ronnie and Nancy.Â
You shoot Ronnie a look like, whatâs the sitch there? Thought you two were getting all bosomy.Â
Ronnie just shrugs.Â
âAlright!â Kaminsky claps the clipboard again, âSo, this is a fun group. Bunch of smart girls who got caught doing idiot stuff. Weâre gonna make you pay for that today. Sound good?â
The whole bad bunch of you just stare at him, slit-eyed.Â
Your collective punishment, as it turns out, comes in the form of scraping old, disgusting, errant gum and other mystery sticky bullshit from the bottom of the bleachers.Â
âStupid is as stupid does,â Kaminsky sagely says, handing you each a tiny chisel from the art room, âAnd I understand that some of you are violent offenders,â thatâs a pointed look at you and Ronnie, by the way, âbut please. Donât use this opportunity to take another girlâs eye out. Your community college acceptance is riding on it.âÂ
Motherfucker. Everyone knows Ronnie Ecker is in the running for valedictorian.
He leaves the four of you to your own devices, promising to check up on you all in a solid forty-five.Â
âHow many times you think he can beat off in forty-five minutes?â Ronnie immediately asks as the teacher disappears through the door.Â
âDepends. Is he doing it in the shameful privacy of his three-door rust bucket or the clandestine confines of the AV room?â you question.Â
Nancy makes a gagging sound but adds, âAnd is he using his imagination or Ms Kelleyâs yearbook picture?âÂ
Nasty Wheeler! That girl has truly endeared herself to you.
Robin, however, doesnât weigh in at all. She just sort of glares and angles herself onto the nearest bleacher rung to start scraping the age-old mastication from the wood. Tension in the air.
âBuckleyâs got the right idea,â you say, twirling the chisel in your fingers, âSooner we get started, sooner we get the grossness over withâŚâ
Ronnie sticks close by you, which is nice. You always like having her in proximity. Nancy, whoâs nothing but work ethic in everything she does, starts furiously working on a corner a little ways away from you bothâ and Robin.Â
It doesnât take long, maybe fifteen minutes of silent, resigned scraping, for you to get bored. And disgusted.Â
âAt what point do we get to do the whole prison thing of what are you in for?â you say, sitting up and letting the blood rush back to your head.Â
âWell, yours goes without saying,â Ronnie chuckles, âgoing all batter on Hargroveâs car like that. Did you actually bust a window?â
âJust swung it around,â you say, driving your heel into the bench, âI may have inherited the felony misdemeanor gene, but I didnât inherit getting caught. What about you?â
Ronnie flicks another gum wad off with her chisel, âActually, you might wanna ask Wheeler about that.â
Your brow furrows. âNance?â your voice rings down to the lower rungs, âRonnie here says you were implicated in her detention-getting.â
âYeah, um. Well, I heard about everything when you wentââ
â--totally awesome psychoââ
â--in the parking lot and⌠I just. I wanted to clean up all that shit. From your locker. And then Nicole came by, smacking her stupid gum, and it kind of got ugly.â
Nicole. The irony of it, Nicole, gnashing out shittalk about you and Eddie in order to impress whatever unfortunate member of the wrestling squad sheâd dug her press-ons into this week. Nicole, whoâd already invaded Eddieâs territory, much to her apparent shame.Â
What a majorette of a bitch.
You wouldâve given anything to be ringside for this, her versus Nancy.
âYou toed up to Nicole Summers?â a little pause, your voice goes smaller, âFor me?â
Nancy sits up, her perm clouding around her. She points her chisel Ecker-ward.
âRonnie was the one who smacked all her books out of her hand.â
Ronnie pffts. âLike she hasnât done that to me a million times. Eye for an eye.âÂ
âNicole wouldnât even go near her on account of that one time she bit that one kid for catcalling her.â
âOh, stop,â Ronnieâs gathering a blush, batting her hand all coquettish.Â
âWait, that was real?â you say, eyes darting between them, âI thought that was just some freak rumor we came up with.â
Rabid Ecker was one of the less clever nicknames your group of crown ghouls had come up with, so it obviously didnât stick too long.Â
âWe?â Nancy scoffs, not mean.
âThe royal âweâ,â Robin Buckley drawls from her prostrate position on the bleachers. That sounds mean, the bite in her voice.Â
Your hackles canât help but rise at that cold snap in her tone. Does she have a fucking problem, or something?Â
âAnd why are you here, Robin?â you call, hands knitting in your lap.
âI was with these bozos,â she says, a note-faithful mockery of your pointed voice, âFor some godforsaken reason⌠and now I really wish I wasnât.â
âWhyâs that?â you press.
Nancyâs whole upper half tenses. âRobinââ
Robinâs chisel clatters on the bench, a toss made out of frustration. She looks to the three of you with pursed lips before letting loose.Â
âSteve found out,â Robin says, âAbout the pregnancy test thing. In like, the worst way he could possibly find out, which is so goddamn unfair, unfair in the first place because of Nancy not telling himâlike, I get it, your choice or whatever but you guys have been together for, like, a really significant period of time and you know how he feels about youââ
You and Ronnie canât even get a breath in before Nancy rises from her seat, fingernails digging into tiny little fists at her side. Sheâs all spit and fury, sheâs on Robin.
âOh yeah, the worst way he could find out, Robin, the worst way which is that you blabbed to him!â Nancy yells, ricocheting around the gym, ââOh, I couldnât help it, he asked me what was wrong and it all just came outââ Give me a break! I mean, are you really that co-dependent that no one can tell you anything in confidence without you running to tell Steve?â
Robinâs face seizes in a snarl. âAre you really that stupid that you forgot to use protection with your long term boyfriend?â
âWhat is your problem?â Nancyâs voice whistles through her teeth, sheer exasperation, âHow is this any of your business?â
âShould we stop this?â Ronnie whispers, with no intention of moving.
You shake your head in tiny, tiny increments, gossip monger past getting the best of you. âI kinda wanna see where this goes.â
âHe is my friend, Nancy! And you broke his heart, dumping him right afterâ afterâ!â
Both your and Ronnieâs mouths drop into an âoâ. Youâre kind of disappointedâa big Wheeler-Harrington bust up and you werenât first on the call list?!Â
âJesus, Robin!â Nancy spits, perm flying, stomping towards Robin, âGet a personality! Sublimating yourself onto Steve Harrington isnât doing you any favors!â
âWhy, Nancy? I thought you loved him.â What confusing wording.
âIââ
Okay, these two girls are walking right into shit you canât take back territory. You and Ronnie rush the bleachers, breaking the negative space between them both.Â
âLadies! Break it up!âÂ
âYou heard Kaminsky! Weâre all holding chisels, this could get ugly fast!âÂ
You look to Nancy and her eyes are glistening. Reddening with the heat of anger and frustration. Robinâs jaw has hardened into a tough clinch, arms bound around her chest. Ronnie, she just lingers awkwardly, not quite knowing where to look. Your hand goes out to Nancyâs elbow, and she jerks away from you at first.Â
âLetâs go. Come on.â
âWeâre supposed to be chiseling,â Nancy seethes. Your eyes roll, no patience for this go-nowhere brat routine, and you lead her to the other end of the bleachers anyway. Saying something like, weâll take one end, Ronnie and Robin take the other, weâll get this shit cleared in no time.
Nancy starts working furiously, but thatâs kind of not what you had in mind here.
âYou broke up with Steve?â you ask, point blank. Like sheâd ask you.Â
She keeps chiseling for a few heavy, angry seconds. âI wasnât gonna tell him, you know. I wasnât gonna tell him, and we were gonna be fine. He could have lived without knowing. And thenâfucking Buckleyâ and he had all these questions.â
âLike what?â
âLike why didnât I tell him. And why was I so put out by the idea. Like, why didnât I want to have his hypothetical baby at age seventeen⌠stupid shit like that.â
âHeâs sensitive.â
âHeâs a moron.â
âDonât say things you donât mean,â as if you didnât have irrefutable proof in her favor. But that was the old Steve Harrington, wasnât it? Heâs meant to be some soft-hearted do-gooder dream boy now, right?Â
âNo, Lacy, heâs a moron,â Nancy hisses, spit flying again; youâve never seen her like this. Blue eyes bold and frightening with conviction. âWhy should I have to tell Steve about something like that if itâs just a big nothing? If I was never even actually pregnant or whatever? Why canât I just have that to forget about myself? Why do I owe him part of every single goddamn decision I make about my life?âÂ
This is a bigger conversation, isnât it? What youâd once regarded as poor Nancy and her perfect boyfriend, boo-fucking-hoo is now poor Nancy and her perfect boyfriend, stifled by his redemption.
âAt least if he was still an asshole, I wouldnât feel bad about breaking up with him. After all this.â
âNow itâs just like youâve kicked a puppy.â
âExactly.â
âWhat total bullshit.â
Nancy shoots the tiniest smile up at you, a stiff little nod bobbing her neck forward.
Thereâs a long beat as your focus reframes around Nancy. All the two of you wanted were lives of your own. Existences not indebted to anybody, good or bad. Shit.
âIâm the sublimator, by the way. I know that,â Nancy whispers, great big eyeballs glittering at you, âItâs easy to⌠fold into someone like Steve when, yâknow⌠youâre not exactly likeable on your own. I just. I wanted to hurt her. She doesnât deserve it. But I wanted to.âÂ
Her chisel gestures towards Robin, working alongside Ronnie in relative silence that Ronnie awkwardly tries to puncture.
You understand that. Wanting to hurt people after you feel like theyâve breached your trust. Even accidentally. And doing it. And the ugliness of the shame after, youâre familiar with that too.
You reach forward and brush a little lint off her collar. âThanks for getting in trouble for me, by the way. With that stupid prank and everything.â
âWhat are you talking about?â she scoffs softly, âYou covered for me. And you didnât have to.â
âHey,â you hold out your pinkie finger. Itâs the least you can do. âPromise is a promise, right?â
â
The members of Hellfire Club gather in an awkward row, standing under the odd, warm glow of the drama room lights like a police lineup of suspects least likely to score a date to homecoming. Sorry, Ronnie.Â
âWhat do you think,â you say, swiveling your focus to Jonathan, whoâs standing there twice as awkwardly with his camera slung around his neck, âShould we take âem outside, make âem do Abbey Road?â
In the middle of it all sits the man who canât help but be of the hour, what with the throne and the glowering and the gravitational pull. Eddie, slumped into that wild set piece left over from god knows what drama club production of, like, Henry VI or Pirates of Penzance or whatever, is so beyond unhappy with whatâs unfolding in front of him.Â
Good.Â
Ronnie clearly hadnât even fluffed him into the idea. Which she offered to do, when youâd hitched a ride home on the back of her bike after the tension of Saturday detention dissipated. Youâd firmly nixed the idea, the sneak attack being the whole point of this thing.Â
Youâd also learned that a two week suspension was no way no how going to keep Eddie from sneaking in and running this Hellfire session, which meant your article wouldnât be delayed after all.
So, nah. Good olâ Ronnie, she just let you stalk in there with your notebook and your pen and your glasses and your Pentax-wielding Jonathan Byers, ready to entirely fuck up Eddieâs day, which gave him no opportunity to protest or call for embargo. Because if he did, itâd raise eyebrows of suspicion and everyone would be like, I thought you two were weird trailer park friends? Is something going on? Something emotionally incoherent and ambiguously erotic? Should we tell everyone? Should we call the Mayor?
âCapital idea,â Eddie says, not exactly to you, but to those in general attendance like heâs playing to the cheap seats, âMaybe I can mow them down in my van and save them from this torture.â
Your smile tightens and Eddie matches your expression, both your mouths straining against your skulls. Wisecracks will not save him. He should know that by now.Â
âLetâs get a couple of the maestro while I excavate the disciplesâ brains,â come the instructions and a swift pat to Jonathanâs shoulder. He flashes you a bewildered kind of look.
âWhâ how do you⌠want him?âÂ
Incredible phrasing. You glance at Eddie, but not really at himânot enough that he can register and sucker your gaze in. Bathed under the dramatic glow like he was born to sprawl all cock-kneed on a throne like that.
âExsanguinated and hung on a meat hook, preferably,â you say to Jonathan, âBut, I trust you. Do whatever.â
As you gather the rest of the Hellfire denizens at the end of the table to interview them talking head style, Jonathan Byers slinks towards Eddie.Â
Eddie shifts uncomfortably, less equipped to keep up that fuck you stormcloud persona when heâs at the other end of a focusing lens. Plus, Byers always kind of gave him the creeps. Not to be a dick, but. Here we are.Â
Byers, to Eddieâs complete and utter horror, clears his throat and attempts to scrounge up some semblance of conversation. But, of course, itâs Jonathan Byers so itâs not fucking small talk. Any other day of the week, Eddie could get behind the notion of eschewing such how about this weather weâve been having type social norms but Byers decides to jump in withâ
âSo you guys areâŚâ he trails, leading the witness. Snap goes his little aperture. Thatâs unfair. Means he caught Eddieâs immediate facial reaction which, hands up, he has never been good at hiding.Â
âNeighbors,â Eddie supplies in a rush, twisting on his throne again. âShe can⌠hear me yelling about DnD from my trailer. Sâwhy sheâs here. To shut me up, I guess.â
Byers adjusts his stance, capturing Eddie from a lower angleâ a little more badass looking, he hopes. Frame the fucking curls, for godâs sake.
âGotcha journalism,â Byers quips. Byers quips.Â
Eddieâs mouth relaxes and he huffs out a little, âExactly.â
Byers shifts yet again, clearly covering all wondrous angles with his dinky little thirty-five millimetre whatever the fuck.Â
Itâs not that this whole sneak attack article for the Streak thing is getting under Eddieâs skinâ Eddie didnât even have a chance to acknowledge it getting under his skin. You just breezed in here and started sticking bamboo spikes under his fingernails, like the little warmongtrix you are.Â
And now youâre sitting at the end of the game table, ruby red end of your fountain pen pointing at Gareth, noting down everything he says without even the slightest hint of condescension. These dorks are looking at you in awe and fear, save for Ronnie who just looks smug, and youâre listening to them. Really listening to them. Your face fixed with that hard little glare that tells him youâre recording the minutiae of their answers.Â
Eddie digs the pad of his thumb into his lip. Why would you want to do this? Why arenât you avoiding him at all human cost? What is your angle here?
âSheâs cool, yâknow.â Click, goes Byerâs camera again. âLacy.â
Eddieâs voice comes out distant, his focus tugging away from you super, super slowly.Â
âI heard you blew it with her.âÂ
Byers, caught off guard, lowers his lens. âShe told you about that?â
Eddie shrugs, like itâs nothing. Itâd be easier to pretend like the idea of you and Byers hanging out was nothing if Byers and Eddie werenât both classified outsiders.Â
âWell, uh,â Byers fiddles with something on his camera, shrugging in turn, âIt was weird, talking to Lacy back then. You know. She was kind ofââ
âSheâs different now.â Eddie answers too fast, springing to a defense that didnât call for him. He sits up a little bit straighter, spine iron-rodding, and tries to recover. âI mean. Sheâs retired the whole icy Swatch rat bit. Sheâs not, likeâ pretending to be something.â
Jonathan gets this look on his face. One last click of the camera.Â
âI wouldnât know. I blew it, remember?â But you didnât, man.
Little does he know.Â
âAre we done?â Eddie says, launching himself from his chair and slapping palms on the table. His DM screen shakes. Byers steps back with a flared little danger zone! look tossed your way. âWeâve already lostââ
â--fifteen minutes of glorious game time?â you drawl, crossing a final âtâ in your notes. âOf course. My apologies. Tight schedule?âÂ
Your eyebrow arches as you flash your eyes up at him. His jaw flares. Youâ youâre good. Youâre vicious and youâre good.
âTheee tightest,â Eddie grits through the falsest of grins and jerks his head, waves flying and the rest of his little Hellfire sheepies following in motion to take their seats.Â
Ronnie takes her time, mumbling under her breath, âYou sure this is a good idea?â
And she was right, with what sheâd said before. You are using this as an excuse to get in his faceâbolstered only by the fact that he had now gotten in your pants, and you werenât letting him slink off that easy. Especially with the workplace cameo appearance from Al Munson that you had just been forced to live through.Â
Youâd been looking over your shoulder ever since, expecting to see him leering at you over those sickening aviator sunglasses.Â
âOh, Iâm positive,â you assure her, turning to Jonathan. âI need, like, one or two shots of them playing then you can take off.âÂ
âWaiwaiwaiwaiwaiwaiwait,â Eddie interrupts, an arm raising over his head to signal halt, âOkay, so first, you storm the castle with your little camera boy without my approval, now you think youâre going to stay for the game?â His ire is genuine. âItâs Hellfire Club, Lacy. Members only. We donât need bleacher bunnies.â
âOh, come on, Munson!â you lilt, situating yourself on an abandoned desk, away from the game table. âThe people want to know how the Satanic sausage is made.â
âThe people being?âÂ
âYour critics and fans. What is this all for, if not to piss off Hawkinsâ Presbyterian and garner a whole new legion of Hellfire acolytes, huh?â
âWe donât need any help from the press on that front.â
âReally?â You drag out your single-word answer, using the seconds to count the minimal amount of players in the room. Not even Ronnie could boast 100% attendance, with her marching band obligations clashing with Hellfire sessions. Eddie glares at you. Yeah, yeah.Â
âAâactually, Eddie⌠I think itâd be⌠pretty cool,â Gareth says, waver slowly fading out of his voice. âI mean, if weâre in the school paper, my Momâll be less suspicious that weâre likeââ
â--doing k-bombs in the drama roomâŚâ you mutter, loud enough that only Jonathan can hear.Â
â--and stuff.â
Eddie exhales so hard his nostrils flare, his shoulders tense, heâs about to shit.Â
âAnd who else would like to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Gareth the Treacherous here?â he snarls, looking pointedly around the table, âJeff? Dougie? Cyrus? Ecker?â
The dorks erupt in yapping agreement, totally swinging for Garethâs angle.Â
âShut up!â Eddie barks, throwing himself back onto his throne. Ringed fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. âFine. But this, in the business, is what they call a mutiny. Donât come cryinâ to me when youâre all gettinâ swirlies with half of the Weekly Streak stuffed in your goddamn mouths.â
Thatâs creative. He really could have had a fruitful career as a bully if he wasnât so gooey in the middle.Â
âMunson, I promise you can ride circles around me on a motorbike on live TV if this all goes to shit.âÂ
You make a fluttering hand motion that reads proceed, which he, naturally, hates. He stares at you, like white light white heat searing through stares at you. And then his eyes shut. He takes a deep breath.
What follows is⌠exactly what you should have expected, actually.
Eddie Munson transports the present-and-correct party of adventurers back into the eye of their campaign. Their mission? Infiltrate a cult of royal knights that have been bewitched by a high priest who is forcing them to sacrifice the kingdomâs innocents in order to fuel his dastardly arcane magic. The plot is⌠involved. Youâd done a light touch of research on how exactly the dragons and the dungeons all worked, so to speak, but it didnât really seep into the membrane. Itâs something you could only really engage with if you saw it in actionâ youâd have to rely on Eddie and company to fill in the blanks that the extensive lore left. Like, how exactly did these mythical dice come into play? How does a character sheet set you up for success, or failure? What the fuck is a skill check and why does it read so complicated?Â
And fill in they⌠kind of did.Â
Aside from the technical aspects, you find yourself suckered into the story. Quite literally, gripping your seat as Ronnieâs characterâa highly capable bard, from what you understandâattempts to escape the hateful royal sect and find her way back to her party. Theyâd taken her hostage, and sheâs managed to escape her chains but theyâre ruthless, on her like dogs. Eddie illustrates every sweaty, panicky movement as they close in on her, and your fine, painted fingernails are dug into every word.
Eddie weaves these stories like gossamerâ both in the sense of delicate intricacy and destructive nature of that big red monster thing from Looney Tunes. Each plot twist is created to elicit a sense of true foreboding, embellishing how effective his storytelling is. It forces each and every person at the table to face fear head on, dig deep and use what they were given in order to prevail, even if theyâre shaking in their boots while doing itâ shit, this is good, you should be writing this down.
Blindly, you sketch the word gossamer into your journal, not tearing your eyes away from the table. You barely notice the flash going off to your immediate rightâ Jonathan Byersâ lens pointed right at you.Â
âUhââ you start, Jonathan reaching to grab his jacket from behind you as the game goes on.Â
âIâm headinâ outâ gotta pick Will up fromâŚâ he trails off, but you fill in the blank. Nancy had mentioned that Mike was hosting his friends for a DnD session tonight too, and the party naturally included the most junior Byers. You nod, checking the timeâ Jesus, where had the last three hours gone?
âTell Nancy I said hey, if you see her,â you say, âand thank you.â
Jonathan shrinks into himself, bashful. âDonât worry about it.â A beat. âI still want that Echo & the Bunnymen, though.â
Your face peels into a grin that says donât worry, Iâm good for it! and you wave him off. The Hellfire party donât even notice his leaving, except for Eddie who, being judge, jury and executioner, notices everything.Â
â...and on that sweltering note, germies and Eckermen, we must bid each other good eventide. Until next time.âÂ
An operatic groan of disapproval goes up from the players, and you realize this must be a regular thing. Eddie always leaving them wanting more. Tease.Â
âI know, I know, if you had it your way, youâd be locked in here, pissing in buckets and the show would go on all night,â Eddie jeers, rising from his seat to start collecting his stuff, âbut I wouldnât inflict that on the janitorial staff. âkay? Scat. Outta my sight.â
With great indignation that swiftly turns into backslaps of appreciation, the Hellfire Club moves out of the drama room one by one. You stay put, and Eddie avoids your eyes completely.
Folding shit back into that madly overstuffed DM folder, he throws a strained-casual, âNeed a ride?â to Ronnie, the last straggler.Â
She shakes her head, smile barely contained. âUh-uh! Two wheeled my way here and Iâll two wheel my way backâ you, uh, have fun though.â
âBye, Ronnie,â you call after her, voice properly piercing through the air for the first time in hours. Eddie reacts like heâd completely forgotten you were there. Which, impossible. Itâs also impossible for him to keep up the whole punk-ass overlord act when itâs just the two of you. As it is now.
Alone, together. Again.Â
Thereâs a charge between you, as if that even needs pointing out. Like the electric fences surrounding McCorkleâs farm.Â
You and the wagonful of your one-time buddies, Carol and Tommy and Tina et al, used to drive out there more than a little under the influence. Your favorite trespassing activity was reaching out for the electric fence, hooking your fingers around it to feel the darting shock permeating your skin.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing? Canât that, like, fry your brain?â Carolâd ask you, slugging back the last of her beer as Tommy and Steve Harrington attempted to tip a cow in the background somewhere.Â
âTry it, Care,â youâd giggled, half drunk and half coursing with adrenaline, half alive and half dead, âIt feels weird. It feels good!âÂ
Youâd woken up the next morning in your plush bedroom in Loch Nora, two little blisters on your fingers, smarting from all that pleasure seeking. Did you regret it? Or did it just make you want to do it again?
Eddie still doesnât look at you as he speaks from the opposite end of the table.Â
âGet everything you need?â Â
âNo,â you answer, short. âMissing my key interview.â
Now he looks. Now he has the nerve to. And irises lock on irises, Eddie frozen in place. He knows heâs not getting out of this.Â
Whatâs more, you donât think he really wants to.
âPretty controversial subject matter,â he says, tone a whole shade softer than the commanding voice of God heâd used through the duration of the session. A little higher. Nervous. âWhat with the panic, and all.â
âMe and controversy are bedfellows,â your shoulder darts up, âIâm the big spoon.â
âOh yeah?â
âYeah,â you nod; your tone is as marble-solid as ever, eyes trained and undarting, âLike when I implied the Tigers were straddling a generation-defining line of bold faced failure. I got in a lot of trouble for that.â
The corners of Eddieâs mouth twitch a little. âDefine âa lot of troubleâ by your standards.â
âThey made me print a retraction!â Youâre genuinely incensed by the memory, hitching forward in your seat, âI mean, how insane? âBad for school spirit,â they said. Like Iâm some kind of pep exorcist.â
Eddie tongue folds in between his teeth and he turns his head a split second too late. You can see him biting back a snicker, or something, and point to Lacy and yadda yadda yaddaâbut you smile, and the tension feels like itâs waning. Thank god, because it is suffocating you. You take your in and up you get, moving to the seat closest to his right-hand side.
âCan we get started?â The fountain pen is uncapped, the notebook cracked, your legs crossing. Eddie sinks back into the throne, his face warming up under the yellow stage lights.
âOkay. Hit me with your best shot.â Fire away.
Youâre quick with it. âWhy this?â
âReally? Thatâs your first question?â Eddie looks bemused.
âItâs the least rudimentary of all the Ws,â you explain nice and plainly, plucking up fingers to illustrate your points, âPeople know who you areâagainst their will, mostly. People can glean what the game isâor will, once I put a fine point on the⌠everything that just happened there. What people donât get is why. Why indulge yourself in this?â
His fingers knit together in his lap, nearly shy.
âBecause itâs fun.â
âNope, too vague.â
âVague?â
You physically knock the notion with a waving hand, leaning closer over the table, errant miniatures and spare pencils still scattered there.
âBasketball is fun. Chess club is fun. Throwing rocks into a rusted can of SpaghettiOs is fun if you can make a case for it. Too vague. Didnât come here for the everyman answer.â
âWhat did you come here for?â Thatâs loaded. The way heâs daring himself to look at you is loaded. How soft his voice turns is loaded.
âThe Munson answer.â It hangs in the air like someone dropped off the gallows. âDig for me.â
A long, metastasizing beat. Resistance is futile, as it is and ever will be with you. Eddie hitches his arms across his chest, hiding a smile in the heel of his palm. Flattery works with him. Even if you'd never call this flattery.Â
âEscape,â he eventually tells you.
âGo on,â you press.
âThere is this⌠insatiability when it comes to fantasy. To stories like this, the kind with big, thriving worldscapes. Reading âem, even writing âemâ itâs good, but it isnât enough sometimes. Sometimes you want to wrap yourself up in the reality of elsewhere. Travel to a world where things are different.â
âBut not idyllic.â
Eddieâs eyebrows pull together.Â
âNo. If these campaigns were just⌠the bad guys are defeated by a mighty sword that you and you alone always happen to have on you, thatâs not a campaign. Thatâs a circle jerk.â
âThe idea is to be challenged. To fight for something.â
âRight. To adventure. Beat the odds.â
âAnd you canât do that alone.â
âWell, you can. I think thatâs called, like, writing a book.âÂ
âOhh-kay, EddieâŚâ
âNo, no, no, I mean,â Eddie shakes his head, planting his elbows on the table top, âWhereâs the fun in that? Whereâs the thrill of the unknown? Of not knowing what the other characters are gonna do, or what sick twist the dastardly, brilliant DM is gonna pull out next?â
Heâs on one now, so you donât stop him. Eddieâs eye takes on that mercurial shine, the same one he had while he was cruise directing the campaign. You wonder when he got like thisâgot bit by the God complex bug. Here, he could dare people to defy him when heâd been the defiant one his whole life.Â
You think about a littler him, yearning for escape.Â
âIt also doesnât work if everyone wants to be a hero. Too many heroes spoil the stew, okay, so you need to find other, yâknow, likeminded weirdos who fall into different alignments. Those alignments only work when theyâre played off other characters. Your merry band of outlaws or pirates or underdogs or whoever. You work together, or you betray each other, or you come back together because of some mighty sworn oath and you see your mission through. Itâs not about winning or losing, yâknow? Whatever happens out there,â he gestures to beyond the barricade of the drama room doors, âdoesnât matter. Whether lifeâs beating the shit out of them or not, my little acolytes, as you call âem, sit at this table and theyâre part of something bigger. Something thrilling. Magical. Alchemic. Theyâre part ofââ
â--a team.â You think about a littler him, yearning for people to escape with.
Eddie flaps his ever-animated hands. âNot my phrasing. But.â
âThat thread runs through it all,â you say, drawing a line down the center of your notes with the inactive end of your pen, âTeamwork. Belonging. Victoryâ an escape from the mundane to victory, especially when you canât find it elsewhere.â
Eddieâs chin rests on the back of his hand as he squints at you. âSounding a little sportsmanlike there, Lacy.â
âAnd?â
âThought you werenât pulling for the everyman answer.â
âA hookâs a hookâs a hook,â you quirk your eyebrows, ââand, when you put it that wayââÂ
âWhen you put it that way.â
ââwhat really makes you any different from, say, the Tigers?â
âBesides the cult of personality surrounding all jocksââ
âAs if you donât court your own little cult of personalityââ
ââwe actually win our campaigns.â
You start to retort, then stop. Letting that sink in.
âOh. Oh, thatâs good,â you say, sketching it down.Â
âI foresee letters to the editor in your future,â Eddie says, and heâs smug about it. Anything to aggregate the status quo, no matter what the blowback might be.Â
No one in their right mind here behaves like him. He just⌠does whatever he wants.
You find yourself wanting to touch the fence.Â
And maybe itâs that you stare at him a beat or so too long, but Eddie shifts his gaze down to the wood grain, flexing his hand. Scabs still marring his knuckles and all.Â
âIt wasnât broken or anything, then?â you ask, gesturing to his hand.Â
Eddie looks back up with a drag. You can feel whatâs coming.
âOh no, it was shattered,â he tells you, eyes-wide earnest and lying through his teeth, âMy bones just heal super fast. My mom, she ate a shit ton of canned spinach when I was in ute.â
âRight, the calciumââ
âNah. Rare botulism side effect,â he shrugs like, whaddaya gonna do!
Dumbass.Â
âRare Botulism Side Effect is a good album title.â
âIâll tell the guys.â
Silence falls again, and if you reach around, thereâs something close to normalcy in there. Among the spikes and confusion.Â
âUm,â Eddieâs face contorts into a tiny cringe, âI found out what the⌠what the prank was, by the way. I obviously wasnât here to witness the whole masterpiece theater of it all butâ but Ronnie told me.â
A tight and ugly feeling constricts your chest. You look away, nodding through a grimace. Youâd opened your locker with the practiced caution of someone diffusing a bomb since that whole incident, which sucks as someone who derives real joy from slamming metal doors.Â
âPretty creative bit, huh?â is all you offer.Â
âAlmost too creative for Hargrove,â Eddie counters, uprighting a fallen miniature with one finger.Â
âAre you trying to say I was being hysteric, jumping on his car?â It sounds like youâre offended, but.Â
âNo,â Eddie meets you right where youâre at with this sparkle framing his stare, âIâm saying it was probably a collaborative effort. You could go seek even more batshit revenge, if you wanted to.â
âAnd would you be there to stop me before I cut Carol Perkinsâ breaks?âÂ
You can see Eddie biting his tongue between his teeth oh-so-lightly⌠Saliva catching in the low light. Itâs warm in here. Stuffy.Â
âProbââÂ
âI miss you.âÂ
You cut him off in such a harsh, unforgiving way that Eddie feels his words rammed back down his throat. He blinks a couple of times, tempted to shake his head to make sure he heard you right. But there you are, your sight line running clean through him. You couldnât be talking to anybody else.Â
âYou do?â His voice is so small that his lips barely move. His lips, teased by his tongue, wetting them.Â
âDonât act brand new. Everythingâs harder without you. You have to know that.âÂ
He gets snagged on the angles in your voice. By without you, he can only imagine you mean since he started giving you the cold shoulder and you started hitching rides in that college dorkâs Ford Cortina. And by everything, he can only imagineâŚ
âLaceâŚâ
This is hard. This is horrible. This is uncomfortable and risky and as exposed as you have ever been, but itâs necessary.
âI canât stand the tension of not being around you,â you say, breath feeling harsher as it speeds past your molars, âAnd I canât stand the tension when Iâm with you either, with you and wanting toâ... so what do I do, Eddie?â
You focus on him, adjusting as if you were looking through the viewfinder of Jonathanâs Pentax. Eddieâs face, bewildered and angelic, with his parted mouth and his honorific glow of the stage lights haloing the frizz in his hair. He looks like something you want to commit to memory, as if to say see?! How could you deny this?Â
You rise from your seat, ever the investigator, and bear over him with hands on the table. Cards on the table, too. A genuine question smarts in your mouth, too sour candy you have to spit out.Â
âWhat do I do, Eddie?â
Eddie inhales with a sharp touch as you stand up, inspecting, demanding. He goes to tell you I donât know⌠in the meekest of tones but the arch in your eyebrows says donât you goddamn dare. You terrify him, and you make him dig.Â
âForget it. Forget about all of it,â he breathes, almost tasting your perfume, âWe can reset. Blank slate. Pretend like we donât know each other. Pretend like none of this ever happened. Itâd be better. Safer. Easy. Right? We could totally do that. Weâve fooled everybody so far. Even ourselves, into thinking this was⌠we could...âÂ
âFuck you,â you say in a soft rush.Â
Eddie only realizes that youâre both smiling when you kiss him. Itâs clumsy at first, teeth knocking and everything, your hands winding around his collar and your frigid fingertips finding his neck. The shock of your skin on his, the matchstick crack of your mouth on his propels Eddie onto his motherfucking feet. He leans over you, knocking you into the table as your tongue works its way deep into his mouth.Â
You give him an, âMm,â and if feels like an ascent to heaven.
Sparkles in the static makes the stuffiness evaporate, makes the room come alive. Your legs part to invite him closer to you, your hands faster and more insistent than his are. You pull at the hem of his Hellfire shirt and yank your head back, a string of saliva married between your mouths.Â
Fingers are more bold than they were in the nurseâs office, weaving the leather out of Eddieâs belt buckle. A deep ridge etches between Eddieâs eyebrows and his hands are propped in a mid-air surrender. Your eyes, your everything fucking eyes, are weighted with want. And challenge. Because you always do have to get one up on him.Â
âReset this.â You tug at his zipper. âTell me to stop.âÂ
âLacyâŚâ Eddie whispers, watching you pull at the waistband of his boxers with his mouth agape. Heâd dreamt about this. Thought about this. His cock about jumps into your hand like youâre Snow White and itâs a goddamned hummingbird. Pen marks on your fingers. âJesus, yâ...â
Eddieâs arms angle up behind his head, like a strung-up marionette, fabric of his shirt ghosting against his nipples in the stretch. This only makes him angle his hips further into you, eyelids flickering and his blood breaking the speed limit on its descent. Fuck, and then you fucking touch himâ fingertips along the length of him, featherlight and goading.Â
Eddieâs groan is broken, half-caught in his nose. Youâre looking at him like heâs a bad puppy, like youâre teaching him a lesson in scolding masking adoration. Youâre beautiful and he wants to tell you so, but it all comes out in a whimper. Your hand closes around his cock, thumb brushing rii-iii-iight along the ridge of his head.
âTell me to stop,â you echo yourself, and youâre fascinated that it comes out sounding like you know what youâre doing. You donât. Youâve never been thrust into a net of feeling like this, never had anyone look at you the way Eddie is nowâ like heâd throw himself on a bed of open flames for you, so long as you kept touching him. Itâs drunkard-making. Itâs a full headrush. The gradual glisten of his reddening head looks delicious to you.Â
âTell me to sââ
Grip tightens around him and Eddie moans from right in his sternum, his arms dropping to cradle around your head. He canât believe heâs doing this, he canât believe heâs fucking doing this butâ
âStop,â he gasps, fingers winding in your hair. His entire spinal cord is begging him to buck into your hand, your mouth, your anything, but he steels himself. âStopstopstop, Lacy. Fuckâ fuck.âÂ
Your eyes widen, cheek in his palm. âReally?â Said in the most painful, the most misread did I do something? lilted tone. Your hand doesnât exactly go slack right away.Â
âYeah. Yes,â Eddie murmurs, eyes screwing closed and opening again, the most manual effort ever put behind a blink. âI câI didnât do this right, the first time. This is stupid. This is so stupid.â
And so your hands go, and you feel the anchor of your heart slowly dropping⌠But Eddie drops his face right down to yours.Â
âYou deserve⌠so much more than giving me a handy on school property,â he tells you, and feels almost coherent about it. âHot as it is. Right out of my⌠nastiest dreams as it is.âÂ
Oh. Oh. The corners of your mouth pick up as Eddie presses his forehead to yours, just about evening out his breathing.Â
âHad a premonition about this, didja?â The pressure of his face on yours, his breath on yours, his skin on yours. Itâs nice.
âCame to me in a vision,â he grins, crooked. Slides his thumbs along your cheeks and kisses you, slowly and noisily. âIâm a prognosticator.â Tongue half in, half out your mouth. Your heartbeat sinks between your legs. In a good way. âBeen known to prognosticate.âÂ
âFive dollar vocab word,â you mumble into his mouth, canât help but push your body against him like a cat begging for attention. Eddieâs lips latch to the space right below your ear, a place where his mouth makes you feel like cymbals are clashing in your stomach.
âCome home with me,â he says, the note of pleading in his voice making your legs go numb. His nose and his lips dragging against the side of your neck, begging you to focus on the details and not the bigger picture. âPlease.â A swallow. A beat. A ragged whisper. â... I missed you. Too. Yâknow?â
âI doâŚâ you sigh into his curls, readjusting his boxers, âactually need a ride⌠so.â
â
The van ride back to Forest Hills is tight with a tension that makes you both laugh, your mouth still buzzing from the kiss Eddieâd laid on you right before heâd helped you into the passenger seat. Even after heâd insisted you not touch him from the drama room to the parking lot, insisted because, âThis thing,â heâd gestured to his crotch, his hard-on painfully zipped into submission, âthis thing is gonna get me hauled over by the cops!â
âDonât laugh!â you scold, mouth straining around the gleaming smile youâre suppressing, body all giddy. Voice ringing clear and high even over the cranked radio. Sabbath, naturally, Vol. 4. Wheels of Confusion sounds like treacle to you, mixed in with his laugh.
âIâm no-oo-oht!â Eddie says, syllables punctuated with chuckles, âI justâ I am expressly escorting you back to my place! To, like, have sex with me!â His hands beat against the wheel, teeth sunk into that pretty bottom lip, giddy-upping so hard he actually does swerve the van a little.
âWoah!â you yelp, âEddie, the road! You shouldâve let me drive, youâre feral!âÂ
Eddie moon eyes at you, reaching over to pinch your chin. âLace, please donât get all sore about this, but I will never trust you behind the wheel of this van. Sheâs a delicate piece of machinery and you would drive her like itâs the demolition derby.â
Narrowed eyes and all, you kind of have to concede. Youâve never been the best behind the wheel, a road rageaholic, and if you were to add feeling as frisky as you do now on top of that sundae⌠you press Eddieâs DM binder into your lap a little harder. Down, girl. He doesnât help, thumb stroking your chin and everything.Â
âThis is suh-rreal.â
âStop zooming out so hard or Iâm not gonna have sex with you!â Youâre kidding. Youâre so completely kidding. If he doesnât touch you someplace lower than your neck soon, youâre going to disintegrate.Â
But Eddie pauses. âLike, you donât. Have to.â Panicky, freezy. Hastily pulling on his good guy hat. âYou donâtâ by the way. Itâs whatever you want. Call timeout at any time. I know Iâve been kindaââ
âEddie.âÂ
â...you still want to though, right?â
The giggling dies down as you edge closer and closer to your respective trailers, darkness washed over them like a swathe of dark blue paint. The lights in both trailers are out. Nobody home. Wayne, something about the weekend, something about overtime. Your mom⌠who knew. Sheâd been moving around in shadows more so than usual lately.
Everything out there is dimmed, except you two. Eddie doesnât waste a second once the motor shuts off and the radio is silenced; he slams the driver door shut but the teensiest knot of hesitation tightens in your stomach before he reaches the passenger door.Â
And then he reaches the passenger door, gathering you out of it and pushing you up against the side of the van. Snapping you out of it instantaneously using the bare force of his mouth against yours.Â
âEddieâŚâ mumbled, your lips barely unstuck.
âSorry. Shit, sorry. I just really like kissing you.âÂ
Something pops in your chest; heâs⌠Jesus, heâs so sweet. Coal-eyed and excitable and lovely, kissing you with nothing left to spare.
âHey. Redirect,â you shiver, his fingertips pressing into your waist. âCome to my place.â
Eddie casts a wide glance back toward your double-wide. The forbidden castle. âYour⌠yâare you sure?â
âSure that my bedsheets are cleaner than yours, yes.â Â
He murmurs, âBedsheets,â with a darkened gaze and a grunt. Bedsheets. You wanted him in your bedsheets. âGet your key. Get your key. Get your key before me and my dick have a shared brain hemorrhage.âÂ
That new lock doesnât stick at all, thank god.Â
Eddie, ordinarily, would nosily register all of his surroundingsâ he had an extremely barebones idea of your place, cast mostly in darkness like this, from that first night heâd driven you back from the fallout at Harringtonâs. But heâs too busy nosily exploring your throat with his tongue, recording and archiving every breathy sound you make as you tug him toward your bedroom.Â
Cardboard boxes still trip you up a couple times. Did you ever unpack, or what?
You break from his heady kiss, vision doubling, taking in a lungful of air as you push Eddie through the door. Spine flattens against it as it shuts, the noise drawing a little bit of sobriety into the room. You reach to hit the floor lamp on and your bedroom is illuminated in a soft, orange glow, a scarf thrown over the bulb to diffuse light. A half-effort to make you forget where you were sometimes. It works; the edges of everything softens, which is such a contrast to the definitive presence that he is.
Eddieâs chest is heaving. He attempts to get his bearings but he can barely get his eyes off of you, squirming ever-so-slightly, ever-so-sexily against the door. Like youâd captured him.
Lips swollen, watching you watch him from the door, he turns a little shy and turns to look at the ephemera around him instead.Â
Heâs standing in your bedroom.
Youâre far more cluttered than he expected you to be.Â
He expected pressed sheets and a pristine dressing table, like a prison cell designed by a set dresser from Dynasty.Â
Well, thatâs wrong, actually. He expected that of the Lacy people thought you were.
On the walls are a couple of tear-outs from the Rolling Stones heâd helped you liberate from your porch in Loch Nora, a mission youâd bought him breakfast for but didnât have to. But mostly, every surface in the room is covered in piles. Piles of books, records, tapes, pens, jewelry, nail polish. And the clothes. They hung from everywhere, bursting out of your tiny closet space like bodies trying to escape.Â
Itâs confused in here; feels like someone who has unearthed parts of herself that she hasnât been able to organize yet. Eddie wants to comb through it like a collector at a rarities market, he thinks, running a finger along the spine of a porcelain cat that sits on your dresser.Â
âPlace is filthy, cheerleader.â
âYouâd know about mess, freak.â
The only really neat, clear space is, fortunate for tonightâs entertainment purposes, the bed.Â
As heâs sliding his jacket (jackets, plural) off, Eddieâs eye travels to the window.Â
âDid you fix your blinds?â he asks, pivoting back and forth on his heel.Â
âMy blinds?â you parrot. The blinds that had been broken when you moved in. The ones that sure were shuttered now. Youâd made a point to fix them with whatever was left out of your first paycheck from the Bookstore. âHowâd you know about my blinds?â
He couldâve lied, if he caught himself quicker. If he didnât straighten up his back like someone had snapped him to attention. âUuh.âÂ
It dawns on you like a flashlight in the eyeballs. âWere you⌠watching me, Munson?â
Not spying, mind. Not peeping. Watching. Eddie sinks down to sit on the edge of your bed, because whether or not heâs ever going to get to be here again kind of hangs in the balance right now.Â
âThat. DepâŚends. What do you,â Please donât kick him out. Please donât kick him out. Look at the line of your fucking body as you round on him, staring him down like you want him for dinner. Christ, he hopes you want him for dinner.
Eddie swallows roughly, tone bumpy, face a dime store Halloween mask of nonchalance. Paper thin. âWhat do you think about that?â
Fact is, heâd subsisted on a couple of very guilty glimpses of you. Catching sight of the lines of your bare back and taught shoulders would keep him in jerk-off material for a week, just thinking about kneading out your knots and undoing your bra clasp with his teeth.Â
Eddie felt positively Victorian about it. Maybe youâd flash an ankle at him next and heâd be institutionalized for hysterics.Â
You look at him with the same pinpoint as you did earlier. Like youâre studying him. And then you edge closer, closer, nudging his knees apart. Echoes of the nurseâs office.Â
But this isnât the goddamn nurseâs office. Youâre not straining to adapt to the element of surprise. You know that the breath Eddie takes, shuddering and wondrous as you tilt his chin up to look at you, is a sound you want on repeat for as long as you can bear to hear sounds.Â
âTheyâve blinded men for that, yâknow? Before.â
Eddie canât answer. Just let out a huh! as your fingers trace his jaw, thumb brushes his lip. His hands squeeze the curve of your ass, fingers beg into your thighs as he watches you, dumbstruck. His tongue unconsciously presses to the tip of your thumb and he hears your breath hitch.
A sustained shock travels up your neck.
âI mean, was it worth it?â
âWas it w⌠Lacy.â Eddieâs hands have breached the hem of your skirt and with a groan, his face burrows into the silken fabric of your shirt, like heâs trying to nudge it off with his nose or his mouth. Fingers are working mindlessly to loosen some article of clothing from your body and it makes you feel buzzy and trancelike. âDonât ask stupid questions. I might have fuckinâ carpal tunnel because of you.â
Jesus. He makes you feel soâŚ
Desired. Needed. Youâve never felt that way before, and you donât quite know how to navigate it. So your buttons start coming undone with the work of one hand, the other shoving Eddie by the shoulder to lean back on your bed.Â
Eddie, here, among all your things. Disparate in your shabby little dollhouse, looking at you like you just swallowed the sun.Â
Your shirt comes off, and Eddie, in a game of match point, tugs his off too. Pause comes over the both of you. Youâd seen him shirtless before; shower-bare in his trailer when the first security breach happened, a crack in the containment whatever you were pretending your relationship to each other wasâaffable enemies, irritated acquaintances. Heâd looked at you like an animal cornered, tendons tense under his tattooed skin and youâd wanted to drag a finger or two down the center of his chest.Â
You didnât, though. Youâd sniped, asked where the cigarettes were.Â
This is all one big case of making up for lost time.
Youâve been looking at him so long, bra strap slipping off your shoulder, that Eddie leans forward. As if to come get you.Â
Remember me? Iâm real. You can touch me. Touch me, please.
His warm arms pull you to him, pull you onto the bed, pull you against his lips. Itâs gentler there; not as furtive. It says, hi, Iâm here. Your arms, tugging him closer as he eases you beneath him say, good, Iâve been waiting. Eddie brushes his nose against yours, you laid down with your hair fanned out on the plush comforter.Â
Both your pulses must have stuttered at the same time.
His smile is serene but you can feel his forearms trembling. âI feel like Iâm gonna have a heart attack.â
âDonât,â you tell him, very quietly while his hand nervously tries to find the zipper on your skirt, âI just got you back.â
Your hips lift to help him and youâre wiggling the thing off and youâre wiggling your tights off and heâs thrashing his jeans off only to land back between your parted legs with bouncing recoil from the mattress. Laughter biting in one anotherâs mouths. The nerves are teeming off him in waves and it makes you want to kiss him all over.Â
The feeling housed in your body is different; not jittery, but struck somehow. This doesnât feel like the way it usually feels, the way it does when you disappear into spare rooms at parties or the shadow of Skull Rock or hitch your leg up against the center console of someoneâs shitty car. It doesnât feel rote, like youâre doing it to stack up experience pointsâ that is a Dungeons and Dragons term you found particularly interesting. How many bad tongue kisses had you accepted just to feel like youâre progressing, instead of waiting for someone who wants to taste you like Eddie does?Â
Your bodies caged together, you feel the eager, hard, tragically clothed line of him rub against your center. Eddie manages to free your bra clasp on the first try, which you almost goadingly applaud him forâbut he cuts you short with a bewitched stare, his lovely, hot mouth laving over your nipple as he slips the fabric away. It tears the first real moan from you, your back arching into his kneading fingers as his tongue curves over your tightening bud.Â
Eddie canât believe what heâs hearing. He can barely see straight, but heâs trying to commit every second of this to a glorious Technicolor memory, sound and image capturing working overtime. The sound that comes from your beautiful, balmy mouth sounds fresh out the packetâlike youâd never made it for anyone before. The look of suppressed surprise on your face confirms as much and Eddie feels like he might explode.Â
He, too, has no idea what heâs doing but he canât help his hips from jerking into you as he plays on. Playing with your nipples, remembering that making them glisten with his spit will make you whimper, and so will kissing the center of your sternum. Heâs watching wide-eyed and fascinated as your brow furrows and your legs tighten around him. Heâs a wonderful student, when he wants to be.
Eddie is throbbing, and thereâs too much cotton and lace between you.Â
Thereâs also this other thing, and it comes out of him like word upchuck as you try to tease his boxers down around his hips using only your feet.Â
âI oughta tell you,â Eddie whispers, voice all raspy, all boyish with his hair tickling your collarbone, âIâm, uh. Iâm not good at this.â
âAt what?â Heâs got one hand roaming over your chest, the other making indents in the meat of your thigh. It feels like heâs holding your breath right in his hands.
A new shade of pink rises high in Eddieâs already straining cheeks. He really doesnât want to have to use his words to spell it out. âThiii-iiss.â
Oh. A rivulet of cold realization runs through you. Nicole. Cass. Girls daring themselves to get near to him. Experience points. The great freak experiment project.Â
âThis isnât that.â Your hands hold his chin, perhaps a little roughly, to make sure heâs listening. And Eddie is, breath baited. You press your forehead to his like he pressed his forehead to yours. âItâs not.â
Heâs really about to ask you, what is it, then? but that feels like something you can work out later. Eddie lets you tug at his lips and you let him tug at your panties, arching up so you can wiggle them down your legs. His eyes cast to the downy hair at your mound, and itâd usually occur to you to apologize for your unshaven legs, as if it mattered.Â
But the way he regards you doesnât call for that; it calls for you to open up for him. Spread.
A rough pad of a finger runs along your slit, feeling the generous drip thatâs gathered, and Eddie moans as your breath hitches into an animalistic, âhahh!â-- heâs edging down your body to bury his face there. He wants to feel you, smell you, taste you. You tense at the sudden contact of his palms pressing your thighs open, his nose against your clit and he feels it. A jolt of worry passes through him. Did you not want that? âSorryââ
âDonâtâ no, Eddie, donât stop,â you strain, laugh a little, âYou just⌠surprised me. Keepâ keep surprising me. Please.âÂ
Shockwaves break through you as he gingerly offers his tongue. And more, and more, until heâs lapping at you with a vigor and no real direction. You dig against him, made speechless by the building ache in your core.
In your fantasies, you hadnât anticipated him being so givingâso eager to please and explore. Like all things, this moment projected itself in your head with the hard edges of some imagined cockiness, Eddie telling you to spread your legs and you, nymphlike and fluid and still somehow holding all the indiscriminate âpowerâ, doing so.Â
But this? This is soft and messy and spitty and real. Eddie is drooling and babbling into your pussy with the uncalculated effect of someone who has improvised his whole life and itâs tearing you at the seams. A satisfying little rip, every keen movement he makes.
You know when youâre close to climax, that familiar feeling of your cunt suckling at nothing, but it doesnât feel as jagged as the first time he brought you there. Urgently, you tug at his hair, claw at his shoulders, begging for his attention.Â
âEddie,â you gasp and his hands flex around your thighs at the sound of his name in your mouth. Itâs yours, he wants to tell you, rutting heedlessly into the mattress from his position between your legs, keep it! Please! âEddie, Eddieâ come here, come to me.âÂ
Your velveteen voice summons him, his face glistening from the exploration of you. Embarrassment threatens to ping at you, but it flames into want, seeing how wet and obscene he looks. Thatâs all from you?Â
Eddie does as heâs told, heart poundingâ and the sensation of fabric dragging against the raw tip of his cock nearly makes him pass out.Â
âFuck! Fuck, youââ he stammers as your hand pulls his heavy length free, balls tightening under your firm touch, âN-not fuck you, obvi-ously, butâhunhâokay, kinda fuck youâŚâ
Eddieâs lips fold against yours as he attempts, with shuddering arms, to brace himself over you. He whines at your dexterity, swiping his head against your entrance. The wetness from him, the wetness from youâ the sheer impact of sensation slices clean through him. Itâs not a tactic, youâre not teasing; youâre angling to get him inside you. You need to get him inside you, your entire body is begging for it.Â
âBaby, please, please, Iâm not gonna lastââ
âWho said you had to?â you ask, voice a drop of dark syrup. Just for him. âWho said you had to?â
The earnestness in your eyes gives Eddie pauseâ for all of a pulsating second.Â
âI want you⌠inside. Donât you want to feel me?â you ask with real conviction, thumb swiping over his moistened head in a way that makes his vision go galactic.Â
Eddie yanks your hand away, kissing roughly it, nailing it beside your head as he tries to ease into you.Â
âWant? Itâs all I wantâfuck, itâs all I fucking think about, Lacyâhuhhââ
His first attempt results in a gasp of painâ the sting, the stretch, itâs a little much a little fast. The sharpness has you wincing and has Eddie searching your face with an arrested kind of guilt.
âYâshit, baby, are youââ
âIâm okay,â you recover, hand steadying on his flushed cheek. âJustâslower. Ease it in. Youâreâ youâre pretty remarkable, Eddie.âÂ
âRemarkable?â he mumbles against your cheek, focused and slowly lining his head against your entrance. âReally?â
âProdigiouâss, uhhâfuck!â Whispered swears come streaming from you as he sinks right into the velvety constraints of your cunt.Â
Your eyes roll right back, mouth tipping open and the grip of you arresting around him makes him cry out into your chest.Â
Eddieâs cock is long and heavy and thick, constricted to the point where you can nearly feel every ridge of him. It hurts, the stretch of him aches, but itâs deliciousâpinned and sweetly painful.
âProdigiousâis a five dollarâfuckinâ--vocab wordââ he strains, lifting his hips ever so slightlyâ youâre clutched onto him so tight that you move with him. Eddie open-mouth groans against your neck. âLacy, Jesus, youâre so tightâyou feel so goodâhow the fuck do you feel so good? Who invented you?!âÂ
Thereâs a tinge of a giggle in your moaning, which doesnât let up. Eddieâs voice rings out like a church bell, making one slow stroke inside you, then another. Then another, then another, picking up speed, groans chorusing into the hollow of your neck around the lewd sound of his flesh slapping against yours. The sound alone brings you close to cumming. âOh, pleasepleaseplease, fuck, Lace, Iâm gâ fuck, Iâmââ
The way Eddieâs hands are carving permanent marks into your hips, the way his movements are halting, you get the idea that⌠âYou holding out on me?â you ask him, short of breath around your panting but demanding still, âDonât you dareâdonât you dare.âÂ
âLacy, uhhâ please, âmgonnafuckingââ
âCum for me? Are you?â
Your fingers tug at his curls so you can look at him as his face tenses. Eddieâs hair is flattened across his head, face glimmering with exertion. You drag your lips against his forehead, the salty flavor of sweat breaking across your tastebuds.
âFor you, for you, shit, only for youâonly for you, only fucking everâfuckââ
His dark eyes have been blown out since he pulled you to the mattress, eyelids flickering over his irises as he pistons into you with speed that hurts but you love it.Â
You barely hear yourself beginning a prayer of dirty little succors, but there it is, easing him through his orgasm as he shudders a load between your legs. âYou feel like nothing on this fucking earth, you know that, youâre so good for me...â The tension breaks with one final rasping cry, his expression dissolving into a softness as he exhales a lungful, neck stretching to lean into your touch.Â
A couple of half-cracked dry sobs escape him.Â
Looking up at you, cradled against your shoulder, Eddieâs cursing himself for every second heâs wasted not doing this with you.Â
And you, looking down, are stroking his damp curls from his forehead and cursing yourself. Youâre going to burn the world down for this boy.
âLacy. Youââ
And then, yâknow, the fucking front door of the trailer clicks.Â
Little too much deja vu for your liking these days!Â
Immediately, you seize upwards, jolting a confused Eddie with youâ which breaks your heart, in a way, seeing him darty-eyed and shocked out of his bliss so fast.Â
âFuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.â These are not like your prior âfucksâ, he can register through the haze of his post-nut state. These are bad fucks. So he responds in turn, âFuck?â
âMy mom!â You hiss, naked and scrambling. Panic crests on you like a wave, a wave that should have been an orgasm mind fucking you, and your fingernails tear at the comforter beneath you.Â
âUnder, under, gogogo!â
Because if thereâs one thing your mother, in all her former-center-of-attention glory, loves to do? Itâs enter a room uninvited.Â
Case in fucking pointâ
âLacy?â A perfunctory knuckle rap from the other side of the door, just as you manage to hide Eddie by shoving him behind you and tenting the comforter around you both. Youâre praying to anything with a little more gusto than God that it works. And then, enter your mother and her cloud of Shalimar.Â
Soon as she opens the door, you can tell something is terribly off.Â
Sheâs smiling, face as serene as the Virgin Mary. Usually sheâs got a sharpened dagger of a glare, just for you. Two of you havenât been spending much quality time lately, see.Â
âLacy! Whatââ your momâs brow knits, but itâs a look of amusement. Which freaks you out. Sheâs looking at your just-fucked-by-Eddie-Munson hair, isnât she? The mascara thatâs surely streaking down your face? Does she know? Can she sense heâs in this very room? â--what are you doing?â
âNapping. Crying. What does it look like?â you snap, hiking the comforter up a little further and begging that she doesnât notice Eddieâs incriminating clothes strewn across the floor.Â
Eddie, for his part, is not breathing. Heâs crouched behind your bare ass, a position heâs in no rush to get out of, arms caged around your thighs like a petrified child. This is almost funnyâor would be, if he wasnât scared shitless of everything your mom would definitely do to him if she discovered him buck ass naked in your bed.
Dreamily, Eddie reminds himself that heâs buck ass naked, in your bed. He smiles into one of your cheeks and considers how biteable it is. Â
âWell. Wrap it up,â your mom says, tone still light, and you twinge at the irony. At least youâre on the pill. âI have a surprise.â
Slam. Door shuts. Your lamp wobbles with the force of it and Eddie emerges from behind you, like a freshly-fucked groundhog.Â
âShe sounds happy,â he mumbles, arms sliding up around your waist.Â
You want to kiss the mirth out his mouth but you have to shove him back behind you firstâ cue your mom, doubling back through the door. Jesus!
âWhat was that?â Â
âNothing!â you say, shortly and breathily because Eddie nips at your fucking ass cheek back there. âJustâyou sound happy, mom!â
She shakes her head at you, a smile curving her tulip colored lips, like a mom from a detergent commercial. Yâknow, were it not for the whole Italian widow getup sheâs alway sporting.Â
âGet on with it already.â
You count to a full five before you even let out a breath, snapping your attention back to reality and the fact that Eddie Munson is very naked in your very bed.Â
âYou gotta get out of here,â you tell him, and you want to kill yourself about it.Â
The both of you balance on your knees. Eddie tugs you into him with shining, begging eyes. Standing almost at full attention again, already.
âJesus, that thingâs impressive.â
Eddieâs fingers wind around the hair at the nape of your neck. Despite the brief jolt of fear from your little interruption just now, heâs all romanceâtotally suckered, rose-colored glasses, the whole bit. Thoughts not exactly creating a straight line just yet, but he doesnât care. Heâs had his hands all over you for the better part of an evening now, and he doesnât want to let up just yet. It might kill him. It might kill him.Â
Thereâs no unringing this bell between the two of you, and he knows that.Â
And you knew it first, because you know everything first.Â
âYou sure?â he hums into your sweet lips, âYou absolutely positive? Because I could be real, real quietâŚâ
Eddieâs also thrilled by the fact that he seems to know instinctively what to do to turn you on.Â
âWhat if I donât want you to be real, real quiet?â
You kiss him back, sighing and sliding a single finger down the length of his cock.Â
âLaceâŚâ he whimpers to you, his commandant fantasy of being dominant in the bedroom officially, officially escorted out back and shot. He wants to please you too badly. Be the jester in your court that makes you cackle and makes you cum.
âLacy!â a shrill yell comes from the hall. Your eyes snap open, Eddieâs dancing with amusement and yours heaving with alarm.Â
âFuck, okay, go! Window!â
Another scramble, you tossing jeans and socks and the rest of Eddieâs uniform at him while you clean yourself off, try to pull a robe around yourself. A stray thought occurs to you as you watch him trip over himself, ripping the hole in his jeans a little furtherâyou hate what he wears, but you love it on him. And off him. AndâŚ
You yank up those blinds and unlatch the window with a faint smile. Nothing about you two makes any conceivable senseâ
Eddie starts out the window, shirt barely pulled down his torso and his shoes in his hands, then turns to hook you to him by the elbow. Smiling with the full blush of his mouth, he kisses you. Firm and knowing and whole.Â
âexcept that. That makes sense.
The pad of his finger clears a lock of rumpled hair from your forehead.Â
âTo be continued?â Eddie searches your face, with those crazy dark brimming universes of eyes.Â
Your heart is leaping in your ribcage. You nod sharply, gleaming back at him.Â
âIâm cominâ back for you, Lacy Doevksi,â he tells you with all the brazen confidence he can muster. âAnd I am gonna go down on you until I drown. On pain of death, I swear it.â
âGo!â you command, and regret it as soon as he drops out of your bedroom window. Eddie starts a cant toward his trailer across the way.Â
âFaster!â you hiss, just as an excuse to watch him.Â
He pivots mid-jog, hair swinging wildly, his hand grabbing at his crotch.Â
âYou try runninâ with a hard on! Witch!âÂ
Itâs far, far, far too quiet once heâs escaped through the front door of his trailer.
It's not fair, you think. You should be basking in some kind of afterglow, sharing a stupid clichĂŠ cigarette, you feel like you should be... celebrating this.
You shouldn't have to keep running away from each other.
The warmth the two of you had created, through mere physical friction or just how much you⌠you like each other, rapidly dissipated into a chill as you advance through your bedroom door, to deal with the other thing.
Surprise, you thought, What kind of goddamn surprise could mother o'mine have for me? Did she boost a bank? Did she win the Indiana Sweepstakes? I donât want to know about any gâ
âLorelei.â
The universe has a way of shoving you back in place when you get ahead of yourself.
You donât just stop in your tracks, youâre repelled a half-step backwards. The centrifugal force urging you away, telling you thereâs an immediate threat in the heart of your home.Â
No one uses that name anymore. Not even him. Not since you were fourteen.
âDaddy.â
Your father sits at the shabby dinette that you and your mother donât even share meals at, sits there in the suit he was sentenced in. A rich navy pinstripe, chosen because gray would have been too flashy and black would admit defeat. âOf course!â your mother had said, marveling at his ingenuity. But the pantomime of his defense was wearing real thin on you; whispering at school had started growing louder and louder and you were finding more and more chips in the porcelain of your fatherâs worldly facade.Â
âWhy not compromise. Wear charcoal,â youâd said, leaning against the kitchen counter in Loch Nora, drinking orange juice from your parentsâ wedding crystal as the movers taped up your boxes, âYou can plead guilty and still look smug about it.â
Your father had smacked the flute from your hand and it shattered in forty thousand pieces on the ground. You didnât move, didnât breathe, because you knew if you did, youâd be next.Â
Navy it was. And navy it is. He sits at that dinette like heâs expecting white jacket service. You swear even more gray has started glimmering through his hair. Flashy.Â
âShould I ask how youâre here?â you say, stiff and scared. Your mother, standing at your fatherâs shoulder, tuts and sighs. Canât you just enjoy this? she silently bemoans.
âGood behavior,â Ray smiles, âCanât say the same for you. Can I, Lorelei?â
âPrincipal Higgins called,â your mom chimes in, âOr rather, that odious little secretary called. You think you could get a Saturday detention and they just wouldnât tell us?â
âThatâs why heâs here?â You laugh a little, inwardly. âWith all due respect, Daddy, thatâs a terrible reason to break out of prison.â
To your surprise, your father chuckles too. Makes your blood run cold, obviously.Â
âYâknow, I really didnât anticipate this for my homecoming, I gotta tell you,â he says, shifting in his seat and plucking a cigarillo from his jacket pocket. âI mean, honestly. I thought, a nice bottle of Beaujolaisââ
âWeâre fresh out,â you gesture to your cringing mother.
â--a dinner at, Christ, Enzoâs, since thatâs where our budget is at now,â his lighter flicks and ignites the end, âBut no. I have to sit here and cross-examine my daughter about⌠fraternizing with the lowest of criminal elements.â
The lack of self awareness here is off the fucking charts. It makes your blood pressure spike.
âTake a seat, Lacy,â your father so gallantly gestures to the vinyl backed kitchen chair in front of him, âand tell me all about Eddie Munson.â
Chair drags aggressively against the linoleum. You sit, and swear that the next time youâre caught off guard by anyoneâs father, itâd better be God himself.Â
This bit is getting old.
author's notes: so i'm not fucking around when i say i need to hear everyone's thoughts on what just happened immediately. i really do think that happenings-wise, this was my favourite chapter to write thus far. felt cathartic, from the al munson to the hellfire article of it all. anyway. onto the good stuff - like i feel like everyone who reads this series will have clocked this but of course i lifted the garlic slicing right out of goodfellas. i just think it's a perfect al munson attribute to have - al munson kicking out the jams instead of picking up his kid i know that's right - our dukes of hazzard ref is a tribute to my own personal al munson fancast - not that paris, texas but this paris, texas. (and you know when lacy eventually gets eddie to watch it he CRIES. they both cry) - i should probably put the repo man trailer in here as well - speaking of another fancast! the manager of forest hills trailer park is, of course, to me, in my heart, carl rodd. - the best song off of abbey road by the beatles, fight with the wall - SHOULD WE CALL THE MAYOR - lacy promising eddie that he can ride circles around her on a motor bike is a reference to hunter s thompson being ambushed on canadian television by one of the hells angels he wrote about in his book. dude rolls onto set on his hog. it's crazy. - eddie is kinda gossamer coded - cow tipping? at mccorkle's? anybody? our love is god - god wheels of confusion is kinda horny sounding huh i think that this might be the shortest references recap so far in the series?? one of them anyway. probably because i wrote 4k words of FILTH. anyway, thank you all so much for continuing to read this fucking thing. we're almost at the end of this part of the story which is wild to me. now let me get on your ass and remind you that REBLOGGING FICS IS ESSENTIAL TO YOUR FIC WRITERS HEALTH. SO ARE COMMENTS AND SO ARE ASKS so send those pls :) love you hellcats. be well, cats
#published by powder#hellfire & ice#in progress#e. munson by powder#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x f!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x oc#stranger things fic#eddie munson fic
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It's Nice To Have A Friend
Chapter 4: You Weren't Mine To Lose
Summary: Fate is cruel on how it goes about obtaining its desires. It must be fate, because there is no other explanation for how perfectly molded Y/N and Helaena are to one another. They complement one another like opposite sides of a coin. Where Helaena is shy, Y/N is outgoing. Helaena has a photographic memory. Y/N has emotional inteligence. They have the right temperament to be the missing piece in one anotherâs lives. Ying and Yang. Then there are the boys. Love them or hate them, theyâre there. Even the adults cannot escape the Targaryen chaos, and the fallout doesnât spare the minors simply because theyâre adolescents. Follow how Y/N and those around her carve out lives for themselves amongst the weight of the Targaryen legacy in a modern Westeros.
Word Count: 6.2k
Pairings: Aegon x Y/N, Aemond xY/N, hints of Jace x Y/N, Platonic! Helaena x Y/N, Father Figure! Harwin x Y/N, Mother Figure! Rhaneyra x Y/N, Mother Figure! Alicent x Y/N
Warnings: 18+ youâve been warned
Lots of profanity, sexual innuendos, drug and alcohol use, boys being stupid jerks, infidelity, divorce, eventual smut
A/N 1: Chapters drop on Thursdays. Please, please, please, please share your thoughts. I wanna hear them. I don't bite, promise! Also, I lied about this chapter being signifigantly shorter. I reodered some parts for the story to flow better. Oops, sorry! This is for my Aemond girlies. My Aegon girlies, you'll have your turn soon.
Sereies Masterlist
Aegon pulled Y/N along by her mitten covered hand. It was winter, a harsh one. They were walking down a secluded trail, as the sun set, and old browning snow blanketed the ground. It was scenic. It was freezing.
âI swear to the gods, Aegon Targaryan, if you dragged me out here for some dumb prank or to try and make a pass at me then Iâm going to-â She could see her breath as she huffed at him.
âDo what?â He was giddily mischievous today. Her annoyance only fueled his fun. Sheâd quit her whining once he revealed their reason for being out in the cold. Until then, he enjoyed her frustration.
âIâll post that video of your Risky Business impersonation on my throwback Thursday.â It was a smug, looming threat- one she only brought out when she couldnât think of anything heâd done recently. It was a video of him at thirteen practicing for a costume party. He thought the outfit made him appear cool and mature. That was, until he slid a little too far, lost his footing, and face planted. Y/N was recording for him to review his performance. She saved the video to five different locations before he could fight her for her phone.
Aegon shot her a dirty glare. âYou wouldnât dare.â
âTry me.â She tilted her head in that annoying, dareful way that made his skin itch.
âFine.â He dropped her hand. He continued walking, but backwards so he could face her. âNo high for you.â He turned and sped up his pace which forced her into a light jog to follow.
âHigh?â She questioned. Smoking Ashai root, or Shairo as it was called, was something Y/N brought up to Aegon months ago. As a freshman in high school, she felt mature and wanted to partake in the fun, just like how she now attended the parties. Of course Aegon of all people had a connection. She smelled the bottles of body spray he used to cover the scent.
âYup.â He popped the word to accentuate his nonchalant persona. âSnitches donât get prizes.â
âItâs technically not snitching.â Y/N mumbled under her breath. Sheâd caught up to Aegon by this point and tugged on his arm. âWhy do we have to go out this far though? Why couldnât we have just gone in the backyard.â
âAnd give Aemond the opportunity to snitch, huh!â He shook his head at her naivety.
âUgh, fine, but isnât this far enough?â âGotta get to the clearing.â
âThe clearing?â âYouâre a green little girl. What if you crash out after your first hit? Gotta place you somewhere stationary.â
âFuck you!â
âIf thatâs how youâd like to repay this kind gesture, I wonât complain.â
Theyâd stopped at a rather decrepitated set of tree stumps. It was one of the smaller clearings. In a fit of dramatics, Y/N crossed her arms and took a seat like he so rudely suggested.
âGood girl.â This made Y/N roll her eyes. She watched as Aegon took out a long, skinny roll, of what looked like wax paper from his pocket. He held it between his lips as he sparked the lighter, cupping it to secure the flame from the wind. Y/N watched intently. She wanted to know what to do so she wouldnât look inexperienced when asked at a party. There was something about the way Aegonâs brows knit or his low grumble in annoyance. Y/Nâs lips curved into a lazy crescent smile. He was almost endearing. Aegonâs eyes flicked from their half lidded concentration and landed on her. The roll was lit and he was emitting puffs of smoke.
âHave I ever told you how hot you look when youâre speechless, looking up at me with those dopey eyes.â And the moment was gone. Aegon was in a fit of giggles, dodging Y/Nâs ire. He waved the roll above her head until she calmed down. Then he handed it over, showing what part to hold to her lips, and directed her to sit.
Y/N inhaled in as he instructed. The smoke burned her throat and lungs as she suckled on the roll. She coughed in little spouts as she tried to hold it down. Smoke poured out her nose by the end.
âWell, youâre definitely part Valyrian.â Aegon settled. âYou didnât choke nearly as bad as Iâve seen and the smoke pouring out your nose made you look like a dragon.â
âI get the purpose.â Y/N was struggling with her release of the second inhale. âBut how do you enjoy this part?â
Aegon shrugged. âYou just get used to it I guess. It becomes familiar and then kinda comforting.â He took the shairo from her so he could partake as well.
âAnd then we do what?â
âRelax, enjoy, hangoutâŚâ
âIn the middle of the woods, when itâs freezing?â
âIâll admit, it isnât the most ideal place this time of year, but where would we go? I donât have a car yet.â
âWhat about those gummy things Iâve seen people take?â
âNah, youâre going about it the old school way like the best of us. I would be a poor bad influence if I didnât give you the full experience.â
Y/N rolled her eyes. That was Aegonâs new thing. Yeah, he was popular in his class. How could he not be? He had all the right clothes, and socials, and the Targaryen status. It was just for his class though. To appear cooler to anyone older and to attract admiration from those younger, Aegon adopted the bad boy moniker. It wasnât successful with Y/N. Sheâd seen him cry over animals in movies. He couldnât appear aloof after that.
âSo we just hang out.â She accepted.
âYouâre stuck with me.â He mulled it over. âTill we get hungry. Then we rejoin society to raid a fridge.â
Y/N nodded. âUh, my place. âCause I donât fancy Alicentâs bird food.â
âDitto.â Aegon quickly replied.
After that, getting high became their thing. Before that, it was passively scrolling on their phones, but Y/N did that with Helaena as well. No, for the first time Aegon had something only he could do with Y/N. Heâd often save up allowance and lunch money for these purchases. His excuse to have her all to himself. He wasnât sure why he did it. Half the time he didnât realize he was doing it.
The weather was warmer now and swimming in the lake was a possibility. Y/N was with Helaena for the weekend, but Helaena was indisposed for the moment. One of her insects, or maybe it was an arachnid, was acting strangely. Y/N couldnât tell the difference, but sheâd mumble agreements every now and then to Helena. Really, she was left to lay idle until her friend was done.Â
Aegon knocked on the doorframe of Helaenaâs room. Helaena glanced at the disturbance but did not acknowledge him. Y/N, however, silently addressed him. Aegon held two fingers up to his lips, their signal. Y/N nodded and hopped off Helenaâs bed. She began putting on her sneakers in preparation for the walk ahead.
âIâm gonna go on a quick walk while you finish up.â Y/N spoke to her best friend who waved her off. She figured Helaena had to know what they were going to do, but she really didnât care so long as it didnât interfere with her plans.
The pair walked down the stairs as warily relaxed as they could be. They still had that teenage anxiety of being busted by a parent. Much like a drunk person trying to prove they arenât intoxicated, they were a bit off.
They made it out the door, but not down the driveway. Alicent and Aemond had arrived home from tourney practice. Y/N and Aegon exchanged a look- proceed with caution. Alicent paid little mind to the two cagey teenagers seemingly going on walk. Nothing a teenager should care about was nearby. Yes the lake, but a lake day without proper accouterments wasnât something society born Alicent could comprehend. Aemond though, he knew better.
He wasnât oblivious. The thick, weighted smell was easily remembered. No matter the amount of perfume or cologne sprayed, the oder remained pungent. Yes, they could slip past the adults to change, but they almost always encountered Aemond. He didnât hate the idea of getting high. He wasnât a prude. It was the intentional exclusion from Aegon and Y/Nâs compliance that drew his contempt. He was too young, wouldnât understand, couldnât handle it. Well, he was as mature as the rest of them. In some ways, more than Aegon. So it rubbed the wrong nerve. Aegon had something with Y/N that he couldnât, whether he actively knew it or not. Of course Aemond would never snitch on Y/N. Aegon alone, absolutely. So rather than alerting his mother, he played her to his advantage in a subtler way.
âMother, since tonight is the live premiere, can we order pizza for supper? Iâm sure Heleana and Y/N would appreciate it as well as I.â Aemondâs tone had become rather haughty lately. He always had an advanced grasp on his language skills, but the older he became his readings increased in intensity. Often, it reflected in his superior attitude.
He caught Y/Nâs attention with the use of her name. Yes, sheâd come over to watch a new Valaryian documentary with Helena and Aemond, but the release was scheduled for tomorrow.
Y/N and Aegon exchanged their confusion. âI thought that was tomorrow night.â
âOh it is,â Aemond quickly elaborated. âHowever, the exclusive live exploration of the archeological site is tonight. Father agreed to purchase the viewing rights.â
Smug, thatâs how Aegon would describe his brotherâs countenance in perceived triumph. Aegonâs eyes narrowed, making it clear that he knew what his brother was up to. Aemond held his own, showing he knew his brother knew and didnât care.
Before more words were exchanged, Alicent sighed her approval without looking up from her phone. The entire practice sheâd sat on the sidelines scrolling reviews for exercise classes and personal trainers. âWhatever you like dear, but I expect you all to eat a healthy bit of salad along with it.â
âOf course, mother.â Aemond held a delightful innocent grin as his mother passed by to enter the house. Once she slipped inside, the facade dropped. Ignoring his brotherâs seething, he addressed Y/N directly. âIâll make myself presentable and then we can set up.âÂ
âYou go make yourself presentable, pretty boy.â Aegon didnât hide the condensation he felt from his tone. âYou can primp all you like while we walk, then you can watch whatever you like.â
Aegon went to take Y/Nâs hand and pull her along. The stand off looked rather familiar. Similar to the battles they had as little children over a favored dragon stuffie. This time, Y/N was the toy being tugged from both ends. Much like the stuffend dragon, she felt little say in the battle of wills.
âOh, but it starts in thirty minutes. Will your walk be that quick?â
âRecord it.â
Aemond scoffed. âWhatâs the point of a live premier if you wait to watch the recording.â
Aegon pulled his free hand down his face in annoyance. âForty-five minutes of delay and itâll still be as insufferable as it was forty-five minutes before.â
âThen you miss out on the opportunity to submit inquiries in real time.â
âOh no, whatever will you do if you canât be one of thousands to submit the same stupid question about the same stupid rock?â
âIt would be nice to participate.â Y/N slowly reclaimed her hand. Lately, sheâd become inconsistent with the brothers. One moment she asserted her wants and left it up to them to follow. Another, she was demure and allowed them to go through their tense exchange. Maybe it depended on her reluctance to referee. Maybe she was caught between wanting to satisfy them both. Maybe it was something else.
âWe can walk after.â Y/N offered as she gravitated towards Aemond.
Though it was reasonable, Aegon couldnât allow his brother to be the top choice. âItâs now or never. Iâve got to meet up with Tarbeck and Redwyne later.â It was a lie, he had no plans, but if Y/N wouldnât comply then he could always summon them and lick his wounds while shit-talking his family.
Aemond now acquired Y/Nâs hand. Again, she was the toy being tugged. This time, Aemond was winning the competition by slowly escorting his prize up the front steps. âWeâll walk another time then.â
Y/N gave that apologetic grimace of sympathy that Aegon hated to be on the receiving end of. When he was the one it was directed at, it meant heâd lost. He hated losing, especially to his pompous prick of a brother. He gritted his teeth and groaned through them. He shoved his closed fists into his pockets and refrained from kicking at the grass. He didnât want Aemonf to have the satisfaction of his temper. âFine, fine, nerd out with the geeks. When you wanna have fun, maybe Iâll be around.â
Aegonâs angered surrender was enough satisfaction for Aemond. He and Y/N were in the house, so close to the finish line, Aemond allowed the glee to fill his stomach with butterflies. The celebration came too soon.
âWait,â Aegon slyly feigned his acceptance. âBefore I go, let me grab Helaena for you.â Both knew Helaena usually fed her pets around this time. That girl never broke her routines if she could help it.
Aemond hadnât anticipated his brother having enough composure in his frustration to sabotage his plans. Underestimating Aegon would be his downfall. Helaena was feeding her pets which would take longer than Aemond needed. He also never told Helaena about the live premier, so sheâd probably go straight into her drawing until dinner time. That wouldâve left him and Y/N alone for over an hour. Aemond couldnât help the strangled hum he let out. If he stopped Aegon, then it would raise questions heâd rather not answer. The arrogant little scholar couldnât think of an escape from his own web.
âIâll feed her little creepy crawlies since asking questions seems so important.â Aegonâs grin was a little too grandiose to avoid Y/N noticing something was up. Though sheâd let it slide if nothing else came of it. Aemond recluded into his default lack of expression, signaling on the inside, all he wanted was murder.
âHow generous of you, brother.â Aemond swiftly turned on his heel, retreating in the direction of his room. Gratified with his actions, Aegon added a bounce to his step on his way to retrieve Helaena. The lack of escalation allowed Y/N to convince herself it was all nothing.
âŚ
The last party of the summer was as big of a blowout as the first. Maybe more so, because it was the final time a batch of overly privileged teens, who thought themselves invincible, let loose before parting for separate colleges. Y/Nâs celebration into adulthood was no different. Helaena attended, though she spent more of her time enjoying the fire than the drinking or drugs. Or maybe she took the drugs and thatâs why she enjoyed the fire so much. Aegon was off impressing soon to be freshman college girls with his seasoned university knowledge. Or whatever made it easier to get laid.
Aemond was the only challenge. Yes, heâd gone to parties countless times before. He even drank enough to be enjoyable during the first party of the summer. Somehow, at some point, his attitude towards their parties soured. He was grumpy and giving Y/N a hard time. Sheâd gotten him out of the house at least.
âIf I need to be inebriated to enjoy their company, then I shouldnât be expected to suffer their presence at all.â Aemond argued, but loyalty followed Y/N as they walked.
âYou say that, but maybe itâs you who needs the alcohol to behave.â She quipped back, but he stopped and gave her a look that would intimidate many others. Not her. âCome on, Aemond, please? Itâs the last time we can party together before I leave for school.â
Aemond crossed his arms and haughtily smirked. âYouâll be back.â
Y/N groaned. âPlease, Iâll owe you a favor for your last party.â
Appearing reluctant, Aemond accepted her terms. Gaining his obedience always pleased Y/N. They made their way down the trail to the designated party spot. Everything was up and running. Hard liquor flowed from stolen and or purchased bottles. Many were over eighteen now; the legal age in Westeros. Someone even managed to drag a keg out.Â
Y/N made a drink for herself and Aemond. For a while, they managed to stay together. Everything was just right for Aemond. Aegon was out of sight, out of mind. Jace found himself a Haroway or Hillden to entertain himself. Helaena was somewhat occupied. He had Y/N all to himself. She never contemplated how his arm draped over her shoulder or when he tugged on her waist. It was just Aemond, the boy who used to drag her by her hand to show whatever new book or poster he bought. Aemond, the boy who often fell asleep on her shoulder during long car rides. Aemond, her best friend's little brother. His touch meant little to her, but her touch meant everything to him.
Eventually, she slipped out of his grasp. Sheâd gone to refill her drink and stayed away; not intentionally. Aemond didnât notice at first. He wasnât irritated when he did. He had others he didnât loathe talking to, but after a while he found himself longing to be near her again.
Y/N was a social butterfly. Like Aegon, she was at ease conversing with her targets. Sheâd gone group to group and addressed those she wanted to, but landed on Alana Rogar and Lance Tyrell. Both looked so tasty, she could eat them then and there for all to watch. She hadnât a preference for either. If so lucky, sheâd take both. Her flirting wasnât subtle, but neither was theirs. When Alana leaned in and melted her mouth to Y/Nâs, she felt like a lightning struck wildfire. Alana parted and did the same with Lance. Finally, Y/N and Lance greedily devoured each other. They only hummed in agreement when Alana announced sheâd bring her off road dragonback to pick them up. Then they could have some real fun.
Y/N and Lance had no shame. Each groped at the other over and under clothing. Both had a need they wanted filled, and both were more than willing to help the other. Hands under shirts, red patches forming on collar bones, and the two walked in tandem towards the trail where Alana would pick them up. Lance pushed Y/N up against a tree. She preened at his roughness and returned the favor by grinding herself against his tented pants. Just as she was losing herself in the satisfying rock of their hips, she lost the feeling.
Lance stumbled steps back. Y/N opened her eyes to see Aemond be the force that pulled him. Somehow the angles of his face were sharper, casting deeper shadows, and appearing menacing.
âWhat the fuck man?â Lance tossed Aemondâs commanding hand off his shoulder. Aemond retaliated by pushing Lance further and standing between him and Y/N like a platinum haired wall.
âThink you're some caveman tough guy here to snatch up the girl.â Lanceâs fists balled as he dared to be face to face with Aemond. The adrenaline from the carnal encounter was shifting to something lethally primal.
Aemond laughed maniacally for being disturbingly restrained. It further enraged Lance. âNo, but I know a perverted bastard when I see one.â
Lance took a swing on Aemond. They were practically blended into the trees. Y/N couldnât expect back up when separating the two. Aemond dodged and threw his own punch. Less intoxicated and more grounded, Aemondâs swing was faster, harder, and it connected. Lance didnât stand a chance. He fell backwards onto his ass and rolled further back from the momentum of the fall. Aemond was very pleased with himself.
Y/N snapped out of her shock and went to help Lance up, to Aemondâs disapproval. She tried reassuring Lance by suggesting they just walk away, but he wasnât interested anymore.
âNo, this shit isnât worth it.â He shrugged Y/N off. âAlanaâs getting her four wheeler and I donât have to joust some douche for her pleasure.â Y/N protested, but Lance stormed off to hide his wounded pride.
Y/N watched him leave. Enraged tears welled in her eyes. Like an electric current, the fury pulsed through her body, and in a quick pivot she slammed Aemondâs chest. It was his turn to be sent stumbling.Â
âWhat the fuck is wrong with you.â Y/N roared. Aemond allowed her to push him again. âWhat in the seven hells is wrong with you!â She punctuated each of her last words with a shove.
Aemond caught her fists the final time and ended her physical tirade. âLance Tyrell is a dickhead and you would have regretted going off with him.â
âWho gave you the right to make that call?â Y/N struggled against him.
âDonât be stupid, you know Iâm right.â Aemond faintly sneered and refused to let go.
Y/N roared. âAemond.â
âIâm right!â He snapped, matching her volume and intensity. âYou shouldnât be entertaining guys like that.â
Y/N slipped her hands free by tugging downwards in one sharp motion. Her strength surprised Aemond. Her tone lessened in rage but grew in disgust. âThatâs not for you to decide.â
Aemond grumbled under his breath. He refused to acknowledge that he indeed had no right to make that decision on her behalf. He wasnât her father, brother, or boyfriend. Unfortunately, all he was, was Helaenaâs younger brother.
Y/N was unsatisfied with his silence. âWhy did you do that?â She was exasperated but refused his answer before he could give it. âNo piss ass excuse. Why, Aemond?â
Aemond was pushed to his edge. First she dragged him here when he didnât want to come to begin with, then she abandoned him, finally he finds her dry humping that ass wipe Lance Tyrell. It was more than Aemond could take. He was boiling over and she was at the fuel of his madness.
âI thought you were better than slutting yourself out to any guy who gave you a momentâs attention.â He sneered. âMy mistake.â âFuck. You.â Y/N slapped him. Aemond didnât reject the hit. It reverberated in the night air. She was going to leave him, but her thoughts were too sharp not to let cut. âYou give me your attention and yet I find sleeping with you repulsive. Must not be that much of a slut after all.â
She did her best to keep her head held high and suppress her tears. She didnât want anyone at the party to make a fuss and ruin their fun. Aemond in turn let his frustrations out by screaming and kicking the dirt.
âYouâre going to regret that.â Was all he could sputter out. Or maybe that was all she heard.
âŚ
Time didnât heal the wound. Yule was⌠icy. When Y/N and Aemond were forced in close proximity, a chill settled over the space. Eyes shot daggers made of icicles. Everyone noticed the obvious animosity between the two. Few addressed it.
Aegon, Jace, and Luke found humor in it when they could. Always away from Y/N. If she caught their remarks, sheâd roast them alive over the Yule log. However, it was open season on Aemond. Sure heâd retaliate, but heâd never let it get out of hand and peak the curiosity of the elder adults. He wanted to continue the facade of the rift being a simple teenage squabble.
Aegon initiated the teasing. He was privy to the depth of the feud. Jace and Luke, sensing an opportunity to taunt the prick, joined in. Y/N would normally disperse the teasing before it got out of hand, but there was a void where Aemondâs best ally used to stand.
Aegon would ask, âAemond, have you seen Y/N today?â Aemond would stiffen his posture and attempt a withering glare.
His response was always something like âNo I havenât,â or âYou know I havenât.â
Like sharks, Jace and Luke sensed the blood in the water. Aemond was uneasy about Y/N? Keep her around as often as possible. Invite her to partake in things Aemond enjoys. Youâre going horseback riding? Letâs round everyone up and ride together.
Little jabs like, âYou know whoâs good at this? Lance Tyrell.â
âThe Tyrell estate has great Yule lights. We should go check them out.â
âGuess who I saw today?â
Another favorite was, âYouâll regret that.â Though it was said in a jovial tone.
All hell broke loose, and the Targaryen estate turned into Thunderdome every time Aemond found a How to Talk to Girls pamphlet amongst his things. The hit list included: under his pillow, on top of his bed, inside the books he was reading, his car, and Vagarâs terrarium. Whichever boy was nearest received his tirade. The adults shrugged it off as boys pulling childish pranks.
âŚ
Come summer break, Y/N, Helaena, and Aegon were due to return from university. Their college set up resided in storage units as their living arrangements differed in the fall. Out of brotherly love and duty- or Alicentâs behest, Aemond volunteered to help Helaena sort her belongings. He assumed Y/N wouldnât turn down the free help, but gods she was as stubborn as him. Maybe she was prettier than stubborn. She had several well built members of the jousting league assist in moving her boxes. She made a display out of her sugar sweet compliments and feather light touches of gratitude. Aemond wanted to take a flamethrower and torch the world.
He tried to talk to her. She came back to the dorm for one final walk through and Aemond followed her out to her car. There wasnât anyone or anything to buffer their interaction.
âYou canât stay mad at me forever.â Aemond hollered in her direction. Heâd followed her out, but his footsteps hadnât captured Y/Nâs attention. She was unprepared for this.Â
Y/N stood at the driverâs door of her car. Her keys tightened in her hands but she refused to face him or climb in the car to drive away. Aemond took the lack of fight as an invitation to approach. He got as far as a hand brushing her shoulder before Y/N became a tempest of withheld rage. âYou havenât given me a reason to forgive you. So I can and I will.â
Aemond scoffed, she was being immature. Or, she was the immature one, to him. âIâve already apologized. Itâs been nine months.â
Y/Nâs scowl was one of disbelief. âNo!â He couldnât be serious. âNo you didnât Aemond. An apology isnât some ridiculously expensive Yule gift or a mumble in passing about how it wasnât your best night.â She pushed his chest as she entered his space. Her temper radiated and forced him to take steps back. This was all too familiar. âAn apology is an âIâm sorry. I fucked up. I let my jealousy blind me to my actions.â And then you make changes to your behavior that reflect your remorse. Ugh!â
She turned away once more. She couldnât stand him. She wanted to return to their exile. The best she could do is withhold her gaze. Aemond was frozen, feet away on the asphalt as she made her final remark. âSo no, you havenât apologized.â
Aemond liked to think of himself as an unwavering, incorruptible pillar, but Y/N was a force of nature. She couldnât always move him, but she could leave him battered and bruised. She was one of the few who could leave him uncomfortably still. She made him want to move, but somehow also pinned him in his place.
Helaena and Aegon returned to their childhood rooms. All Hightower-Targaryen children were together again. This go round, their parents were serene by comparison. It was agreed upon that until their youngest graduated college and was fully independent, theyâd both reside on the estate but in separate wings. After that, Alicent would move out and move on. Sheâd always be welcome for family gatherings, obviously.
Y/N, true to her determination, claimed the pool house. Not much changed, just bed sheets and decor. The younger Targaryens and Velaryons gravitated to Y/Nâs new set up. For one, there was the summer activity of the pool. The adults rarely made appearances in the pool house. It was unsupervised territory and there were snacks. It was a perfect impromptu clubhouse. When Y/N was over it, sheâd kick them out till the next day- save Helaena.
Thatâs who she presumed was knocking on her door. The sun was setting and the sky turned all shades of pastel. Helaena was an unexpected delight. Y/Nâd show her how far along she was in redoing the pool house. Helaenaâd pick out a movie. Y/N would order something to be delivered. But it wasnât Helaena at her door. It was Aemond.
Expensive wooden blinds covered the glass doors for privacy. Y/N couldnât see Aemond lying in wait. When she swung the door open, ready with an open smile and a remark, everything faltered. Y/Nâs mouth remained open, hung in surprise. Aemond dared turn up to her sanctuary, sneaking past the residents of the primary household, and stood as if he was an invited guest. In his hands rested a pizza box, a stack of favorite snacks, and the mini projector they used to use to watch vintage movies.Â
For someone who strived to be Aegonâs opposite, he certainly shared the presumptuous smirk. They started using it as boys when they knew their mother wouldnât follow through on whatever punishment she promised. Grown, it was reserved for when they pulled one over on the other, or they were certain they secured a girlâs attention. Y/N went to slam the door in his face. That smirk was gasoline to her fire. Aemond stopped her by nudging himself against the frame, preventing her momentum from gaining traction.Â
His smirk faded into a gentle smile. âI know I fucked up and I know I shouldâve made amends long ago. I couldnât move past my pride and I see how ridiculous it- I was.â
Y/N remained mute but she stood aside to let him in. His eyes sparkled with hope. He looked around at the new set up. His heart panged in regret. He wouldâve been here with her the last few days, setting up, but he missed the opportunity. Though different in appearance, the layout remained the same. He made his way to the kitchen and placed the peace offering on the counter. Y/N leaned against the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. She was barefoot, in her pajama shorts, and an oversized university sweatshirt. Her usual sleeping attire.
She remained in place, arms folded and on guard. âIf you havenât noticed, your opinion means a lot to me. So those insults you freely discarded really took a dig at my self esteem.â
Something caught in Aemondâs throat. There was a deep seated urgency that drove his thoughts in quick succession. She valued his opinion. That was something he had yet to consciously think of, or maybe he did and his subconscious couldnât believe it. It clouded his mind with unpinnable anxiety. She never required him to earn her consideration. She gave it freely and he dashed itâs worth against the rocks. She hadnât clung to her anger. She clung to her hurt. Everything fell into place, he never needed to wait out or cool her fury. He had to bandage the wounds he blindly made.Â
âY/N,â He pleaded earnestly. âI never wanted to make you feel that way. I was just, ugh!â There was a deep rumble from within his chest, directed at himself. âI was angry and frustrated-â
âAnd you let the green eyed monster take over.â She cut him off with the obvious. If she didnât, heâd dance around it.
Meekly, he confirmed her observation. âMaybe.â
âAemond.â Y/N took a step into the kitchen. Her moves were tentative to prevent any reflexive bolt on Aemondâs end. âBe honest with me, because if you arenât you wonât like the result.â
âWhat?â He immediately shot back in nervous suspicion.
Y/N was blunt. Her voice was flat, giving no indications. âDo you have feelings for me?â She stunned him. Her words were the headlights and he was the deer in the roadway. There was a long silence, hoping for an interjection. There wasnât one. Aemond was forced to speak, stuttering, âWhat?â Y/N again swept closer. Her tone remained without any indication. âDo you have feelings for me?â
âI,â Aemond tried to gather composure, but the anxiety already made its way to his very blood and pumped through his veins. âI donât know. Yes? Maybe.â
Y/N held her breath till she was forced to exhale. The release broke their eye contact. Her hands became very interesting. Her fingers rocked back and forth over smooth palms. She swallowed to hold back the intensity of her unease. The bubble of plausible ignorance had burst.
âI⌠I know. I knew for a while now. I see it in the way you look at me.â She huffed. âLike I hung the moon or something. You treat me differently. Youâre not as⌠gentle with anyone else.â Crystalized eyes looked up through damp lashes. âYou shouldnât. I thought that by playing ignorant it would fade with time. I didnât want anything to change, and I failed to realize it already had.â
Feeling emboldened by the honesty that settled over the conversation, Aemond spoke up. His voice was freshly assured. âWeâre not kids anymore.â
Y/N fluttered her eyes clear, melancholy at the acceptance. âNo, weâre not.â
Aemond grew bolder, he took a step forward and tucked her hand in his. She allowed him to run his thumb over the dainty skin of her knuckles. It sent a shiver down her spine and to try hiding her gasp, she turned her head away. Aemond refused the escape. He took her chin between his thumb and index finger, directing her focus back to him. âIâm not Helaenaâs nerdy little brother anymore.â
Y/N nodded ever so slightly in his grasp. He held her attention captive. The roles reversed. She was now the deer. âNo, youâre not.â
It was then and there or never at all. Without the veil of naivety or shaky denials, Aemond took action. He cupped her cheek, tunnel visioned her lips, and went in.
His attempt broke the hypnosis that settled over Y/N. The deer made its dash. She slipped out of his hold and held herself. Before Aemond could fully feel the impact of rejection, Y/N surpassed his chance to speak. âI donât know what I feel for you, but whatever it is, isnât the same as what you feel for me.â
She dressed in a warm, sorrowful smile. A smile nonetheless. Though weary, her eyes hinted at a spark of hope. It was enough for Aemond, for now. He did not buck or bolt.
âI can wait.â It was as solemn as any vow heâd take. âIâve waited for you for eight years already. Youâre worth a thousand more.â
Y/Nâs lip quivered. âWhat if I never feel the same?â It was a defiant, whisper of a question.
Aemond felt a familiar warmth spread from his heart. There was a sense of nostalgia which acted as the source of heat. Gods she was insufferable, but thatâs why he fell in love with her. His eyes held the twinkle now. Like the sun reflecting off the water. Certain. âYou will. I know you will because weâre meant to be together.â He brightened ever so slightly. âIâve known it since the day we first met.â
Unironically, Y/N mumbled, âIâm sure shoving Aegonâs face into the dirt had something to do with it.â
He felt at ease enough to chuckle. Still, so certain. âPossibly.â
Worry reclaimed Y/N. He was too assured. âWhat if I develop feelings for someone else while youâre waiting? I donât want you to be compelled to the sidelines forever. It wouldnât be fair.â
Aemondâs breath faltered into rigidness. âI promise I will no longer interfere. Itâs my choice to wait, and youâd be a hypocrite to interfere with that.â
Y/N nodded as her mind wandered off to the infinite possibilities. They made her dizzy. She steadied herself by collapsing onto a kitchen stool. Her head rested against her crossed arms, the counter barring her weight. As it just so happened, sheâd tucked in right in front of the pizza box. She could smell the contents and they pulled her out of her plummet.
She raised her head, to Aemondâs surprise and delight, with a friendly smirk. âAll this seriousness is making me hungry, and we have an apology pie to eat.â
A/N 2: Let me know your thoughts! I'll soon add post chapter discussions and share mine.
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#fanfiction#house of the dragon#hotd#aegon targaryen x reader#hotd fanfic#aegon ii targaryen#aegon the second#aegon x reader#aemond fic#aemond one eye#helaena targaryen#aemond x you#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aegon ii x reader#hotd aegon#hotd aemond#hotd alicent#hotd rhaenyra#rhaenicent#rhaenyra targaryen#alicent hightower#queen rhaenyra#rhaenyra x alicent#harwin strong#rhaenyra x harwin#harwin breakbones#ser harwin#leanor velaryon#jace velaryon
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Iâm sitting by a trash can at the bus stop waiting for the bus for the past TWENTY minutes and I am also late to class (my own fault for going to the gym instead of heading to class early :/) SO ANYWAYS-
Voltron headcanons (realistic and college AU, also inspired by my own college misery):
- theyâre all stem nerds. All of them. I know a lot of people HC them as liberal arts major which is great! but they are canonically astronauts (one part of canon that I like)
- Lance would be the kind of guy to be like âWE GOTTA HIT THE GYM EVERYDAY THIS SEMESTER RAHHHHâ and then dip the second midterms start. Every single semester. Without fail.
- Keith found lectures useless since he could just âread the textbookâ. He never showed up to a single class except for exams and somehow passed. He only stopped the habit when multiple friends scolded him for it.
- Coran would be in twenty different clubs. Correction: he would be PRESIDENT of twenty different clubs. No one knows when he joined them. The clubs range from archery to competitive coding to mental health awareness. (âHey Coran are u free tonight?â âNo sorry, the Roleplaying Ancient Romans club is having a bake sale tonightâ âthe what-)
- hunk would do a LOT of volunteering. Heâs probably cook for shelters but I can also see him tutoring underprivileged kids in engineering :)
- Pidge would have a surprising amount of school spirit. Not bc she likes the college or the sport. She just wants to hate on the other teams. Also if her tuition is going to the football coachâs salary, she might as well be passionate about it.
- Allura is a triple major. Maybe even a quadruple major?? Sheâs the girl you see constantly stressing about their schedule. âOkay so should I take this classâŚthat makes me have eight classes total all back to backâ âWHATâ âwhat if I did a minor in psychology?â âAllura how tf are you going to fit that in thereâ
- Shiro is a TA (teaching assistant) for calculus or physics or something. Because the world hates him itâs an eight am class where the professor teaches wrong content and then dumps twenty hours of grading on him. âSo you find the derivative under the curveâ âProfessor thatâs not-â You will never see him without a coffee.
- Hunk has beef with the Dining halls. They donât season their food and they donât even have much to begin with. On the other hand, Lance practically lives there. Heâs making the most of the meal plans he paid for.
- At least he sticks to tastier things. Keith, who also practically lives at the dining hall, will eat salt and pepper chicken four times a day (âitâs proteinâ)
- itâs how Keith and Lance have had most of their meals together. Notably, also alone.
- aside from living at the dining hall, Keith also lives at the gym. This explains why heâs never at class.
- pidge has a car on campus. Itâs Mattâs car or whatever. Not only can she not park for her life, she also canât stop getting parking tickets. She uses the tickets as wall decor for her dorm.
- Lance skateboards. Heâs pretty good at it. Heâs only fallen twice, and both times had been in extremely public settings. Once was in front of a bus stop with fifty people. He tried teaching Coran how to skate and Coran accidentally slipped and launched the board towards the main road.
- Pidge plays clash royale in class. Shiro roasts her for it but then secretly also plays word games in class
- on top of having four majors, Allura also has four internships??? Everytime she posts about something that seems relaxing, itâs misleading. Sheâll post herself getting drinks and SIKE itâs a networking event. Sheâll be going hiking SIKE itâs a colleague bonding trip. Girl cannot take a break.
- Keith hates frats. Even educational ones with job opportunities. Even if he knows all frat boys arenât shitty, he refuses to budge on his stance
- Shiro is the kind of guy youâd be talking to and ten people come up to him to say hi. Everyone knows him. Even if he doesnât know them.
#voltron#vld#Voltron headcanons#vld headcanons#klance#vld College au#lance mclain#keith kogane#pidge holt#hunk garrett#takashi shirogane#vld coran#allura#Iâm so fuckinf hungry bro#the Keith skipping class thing inspired by me last year#so is Lance falling off his skateboard publicly#Allura having four majors is based off my roommate who is currently trying to do an English minor on top of her Econ and CS majors
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List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore âĽâĽâĽ
Hehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehehe đ
I picked Uriah this time and I had to wait to answer this because I wanted to do a whole photoshoot for it. I had to be extra. He demands it.
đ¤ Uriah Voss đ
I cannot pronounce his name correctly in my accent. 𤣠Instead of Yoo-rye-uh, it comes out sounding like Yoo-rah. It's funny because I was originally going to name him a different super old-fashioned old man name (Ira, if you're curious, which I also can't pronounce correctly in my accent) but when the game randomly generated Uriah, it was too perfect to pass up. I don't think anyone has been named Uriah since like the 1800s but it suits him so well somehow. Voss was also randomly generated by the game which I kept because I just thought it was kind of pretty sounding and fit nicely with his wack-ass first name.
2. Uriah is an only child...at least for now. He likes to say that's because when the Watcher saw how perfect he was, she broke the mold so he could never be duplicated. While it's true that he is perfect, I've cloned him in two different save files and saved him to the bin, so technically speaking there are three of this lil gremlin boy. Lord help us all. I haven't made him any siblings or other family members and I don't know if I ever will but if a story opportunity presents itself in the future, there's no telling what kind of relatives he'll suddenly spawn! đ
3. If it wasn't immediately obvious, Uriah loves fashion. He craves attention and if his clothes aren't constantly screaming "look at me," he might actually shrivel up and die. He's constantly experimenting with his look, sometimes to ridiculous extremes, and he likes to push the envelope as far as gender norms are concerned. While he likes the looks he gets, he actually doesn't really care much what people think of him. If he wants to wear a dress and heels, he will. If he wants to wear a bat kigurumi, he will. If he wants to wear nothing at all...well...that one might actually get me in trouble, but I wouldn't put it past him.
4. Uriah's sexuality is complicated. You could say he's bi, you could say he's pan, you could say he's a lot of things. Honestly, he's just attracted to pretty Sims with nice clothes, regardless of their gender. He's not totally shallow and he does want to find his soul mate and have a loving relationship, blah blah blah, but you gotta look good if you're going to be his partner! Casual dressers need not apply.
5. Uriah might not be entirely...human. đđ What do I mean by that? Who's to say? đ
#ask#answer#ask game#ask meme#just simblr things#sim: uriah voss#i still have more of his character to flesh out#which is why this is so boring#but i have plans for this boy#he has joined aiden as one of my favorite sims of all time
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Attention to Detail
GIF credit:Â @angel060563
Summary:Â Men rarely pay attention to the things women say, but that's not the case with Officer Tom Hanson.
Tom Hanson x ReaderÂ
A/N:Â Just a quick Drabble!
Warnings: None! fluff!
Word Count:Â 958 :)
For the past three weeks me and Penhall were at a local high school making a bust on drug dealing.Â
It was always fun when me and Doug were put on a case together, he always knew how to make these cases interesting.
After I got a gun pointed to my head by one of the suspects we made an arrest.Â
I asked Jenko if I could have the day off and work at my desk.Â
âHey how you doingâ Penhall asked pulling a chair next to me.Â
âIâm fineâŚisnât the first time I got a gun placed to my headâ. Â
âHanson, Penhall, Y/L/N in my officeâ Jenko spoke.Â
I took a seat next to Penhall on the couch while Hanson stood up.
âWe got a new case apparently somebody is trying to relocate SouthCentral High School one room at a time. Last night was the fourth BE in the same amount of months. No forced entry, no busted windowsâ. Jenko informed.
âDoesnât sound like much of a break inâ I added.Â
âBurglary says to smacks of an inside gig. Like one kid gets a set of master keys, the next thing, half the schoolâs drinking free sodas, and on top of that, some teachers getting free roses from so secret admirerâ Jenko continued.
âGot any suspects?â Hanson asked.Â
âGot a couple. My best bet is a guy named Jeffery Stone. Sells everything from hot records to tickets to the Bossâs concerts, third rowâ.Â
âSounds like a real sales manâ I spoke.Â
âwell Hanson your on this case. Penhall will be your backup in case things go south. Y/N I want you here going over this Stone guys profile see if you can get anything off himâ Jenko informed us.
âNot a problem I gotta help Ayoki study for his test anywayâ.
The three of us group outside by Hansons desk.Â
âSo aside from the kid selling merchandise we also got a stalker creeping on a teacher and leaving her flowersâ Penhall spoke grabbing a cup of coffee.
âAt least sheâs getting flowersâ I mumbled sitting on Hansonâs desk.Â
âAw come on Y/N I bet you get flowers all the timeâ Penhall teased.Â
I rolled my eyes.Â
âWhat no oneâs given you a bouquet of roses?â Hanson asked.Â
I look at him.Â
âI donât even remember the last time I got a single flower let alone a whole bouquet. Besides roses are so clique every girl loves red roses. I on the other hand am very different...Would make my day if a guy got me a single white lily my favorite flowerâ. Â
***
It was getting late, Ayoki and I had been doing practice questions for I donât know how many hours.Â
We decided to break for a while and I took it as an opportunity to rest my head on my desk.Â
But ended up knocking out instead.Â
The sound of a loud book hitting my desk made me shot up.Â
âA felon cannot be issued a drivers licenseâ I spoke still half asleep.Â
I rubbed my eyes to see a smiling Hanson sitting on top of my desk.Â
âOh itâs just you Hansonâ I yawed stretching.Â
âWhat are you still doing here this lateâ he broke into a smirk.
âitâs not that late itâs onlyâŚmidnightâ I looked over at my watch.
âShe was helping me study that is until she fell asleep two hours agoâ Ayoki smiled passing by.
âGod I am tieredâ I rubbed my eyes again.Â
âWhy donât you let me give you a ride Iâm about to head out anywaysâ Hanson said.Â
I took him up on his offer, and he drove me home.Â
âCan I ask you somethingâ he asked staring at the road in front of him.
âShoot.â
âYou know so much about cars yet you donât own one?â He smirked.
I let out a small chuckle.Â
âYeah well I live about a twenty min walk from the chapel.Â
And if I ever wanted a ride somewhere I donât live that far away from Penhall so I could always ask him for a liftâ.Â
âFrom the time Iâve been here not once have I seen you and Penhall come in togetherâ.
âOk if Iâm honest I prefer walking it helps clear my mindâ.
âSounds like a fair gameâ he glances over at me.Â
When we arrived to the front of my apartment complex I thanked him for the ride.Â
He stayed and made sure I got inside before taking off.Â
Hanson was starting to rub off on me.Â
***
The following day Hanson closed the case, and made an arrest turns out the janitor was the one setting up Stone.Â
I was at my desk cleaning out my file drawer when I notice someone sit on my desk.Â
Looking up I saw a smiling Hanson again.
âHey Hanson congrats not screwing up your caseâ I smiled.Â
âThanksâŚhey I got something for youâ he spoke nervously.Â
I gave him a confused look before he pulled his hand from behind his back.Â
There in my sight was a single white lily.Â
âWhatâs thisâ I smiled.Â
âWell you said you didnât remember the last time you got a flower so I took it upon myself to get you oneâ he smiled.Â
âAnd you got me a white lilyâ I took the flower from him smelling it.
âWhat you didnât think I was paying attention?â.
âWell Hanson no offense but most guys donât usually pay attention to what comes out of my mouth. But in fact are paying more attention toâŚwell you get the ideaâ I laughed.Â
âWell I just thought you could use something nice to start your dayâ he smiled.
I got up and kissed him on his cheek.Â
âThank you Hansonâ I whispered to him.Â
He blushes.
#21 jump street tv show#21 jump street#johnny depp#tom hanson x reader#tom hanson fanfiction#tom hanson
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one direction.
i think iâm still grieving what happened; ever since liam has passed thereâs not been a single day where i havenât thought about the 5 boys that overtook my life when i was 12. i was a diehard fan, still am. if it wasnât for them; i wouldnât of met my closest friend. they had such an impact on my life and i genuinely cannot process what happened.
i never thought that i would be this sad at a member passing; but i also think that i never ever thought to fully understand that itâll happen one day. i handle death well but for some reason this death has struck me.
as a 24 year old, i feel for the 12 year old girl who started liking them. who had her walls covered in posters, wrote fanfiction, ran a 1D fan page on facebook and twitter, the one who cried when zayn left and when they all unfortunately split away from the band. i remember the little girl who would get salty when people typed â1dâ instead of of â1Dâ, the girl who stayed up late to watch songs be released, the girl who truly thought these 5 guys were the best thing to happen to her.
i remember listening to up all night and getting sad when stole my heart came on; because i knew the album was ending. but luckily i was fortune enough to own the physical album so i could just rewind it. i did that for years since i never owned another album on cd.
i also feel for that little girl; i remember being sad when i saw people attending 1D concerts knowing i never got the opportunity to as a child. as an adult; sure but⌠a reunion is unspoken for currently. i get sad when i realize that iâll never see 5/5 live, but i saw a tiktok comment saying that i at least experienced the fandom at its prime and that i lived during it, and thatâs enough for me to feel a connection to them. it makes me feel better.
i know that death is natural and happens to everyone, but i was not expecting to handle the loss of someone i worshiped as a child. i know heâs just a celebrity, would never know i existed and all of that but genuinely this has struck me in a way i never expected. itâs like part of my childhood has been torn away from me; like my younger self is heartbroken by liam and what happened. (maybe this has to do with the trauma ive dealt with in my life? but thatâs something i gotta discuss with my psychiatrist.)
1D and all the members will always have a spot in my heart and soul for the chapter of my life that they were in, iâm genuinely so grateful for them in multiple ways. i remember when little things came out and that was in my peak of my self harming, and hearing them sing about things i hated about myself struck me when i was younger. obviously, when i was a child it felt more personal compared to being an adult, but it still helped. i donât think i self harmed for awhile after that song.
i love the fact that i got to experience them as a band, and the fact that im living in a life with their solo careers as well. iâm ever so proud of them and how theyâve grown.
as for liam, i do miss him as weird as it might be. i never knew him, never would but he was ⌠almost a positive influence on me and my younger self. i didnât have much direction growing up, but i knew listening to their songs or watching videos of them that i would feel content. an escape maybe.
i donât know. i canât sleep and itâs almost midnight and i needed to get this off my chest. i think i just needed to vent and say my peace and words to accept whatâs happened.
this blog started as a 1D blog đ
i know thereâs millions of fans who are deeply affected by this as well, and if anyone even reads this i just want you to know your feelings and thoughts are completely valid, grief affects everyone differently. he was a huge part of life for MANY people out there. take care of yourself. listen to some songs and cry; everything will be okay.
(i donât think i can do this 4 more times)
thereâs a day iâll be older than him and thatâs weird⌠i donât like that thought. it was never supposed to be that.
i would like to believe that liam is content wherever he is right now.
all the love, sarah / egirling
#sawah vent lol#one direction#zayn malik#liam payne#rip liam payne#harry styles#niall horan#louis tomlinson#tw sh implied
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Calm
Double drabbles about lazy soft sex with Connie turned a little rough.
đ mdni | masterlist | 772 wc | afab!reader x Connie
Warnings: smut; soft turned rougher sex, dubcon/somnophilia/inebriation, creampie, frottage, cockwarming, come play/eating, objectification/slight humiliation, Dom/sub tones, thumb in the bum
AN: Repost from my old account.
Connieâs curled around your body, air the perfect temperature to get away with being entirely naked and just under a smooth sheet. His inhale catches the edge of your ear and stirs you along with his gentle caress of your soft breast. He smiles into your neck and you get a jutting motion from his hips that press his erection against the curve of your ass. He only manages to work himself between your thighs before heâs drifting again, but still rocking his cock between. Youâre wet enough to lubricate him each time and eventually get up enough momentum to lean forward and let him pop in your pussy. Itâs a lot of effort, encouraging you to drift off with him.
He stays and fucks you awake on his sensitive member until heâs begging to come inside as a good morning creampie. You tell him it better be a promise or heâs gonna owe you a lot more orgasms before lunch as you let him use your pussy. He holds you close, biting your neck, hands pressing flat at your hip bones to keep you within fucking distance. His bite only tightens when you do, but itâs his own doing because his hand rubs sporadically rhythmed motions across your clit that has you milking him of each spurting white rope.
You were almost passed out on the plush carpet in front of the TV. Youâd relaxed waiting for Connie to come over and after a glass or two of wine, decided you didnât need the confinement of pants and deserved to just hang out doing something mindless. Or at least enough glasses to forget Connie had a key and miss your phone vibrating his corroborating explanation. He nearly drops the to-go boxes in the doorway when he does finally greet your groggy ass. He gets the most perfect view of your backside dressed in his favorite cheeky panties. He sets everything down before he slowly, quietly disrobes on his way over.
His hands feel like theyâre everywhere as he joins you on the carpet in his boxers. He massages muscles and begins to pay close attention to your lower back and thighs, straddling your legs as he sharpens his focus. He even encourages you to finish the level you were on and let him make you feel good. Of course, you agree. It sounds heavenly and his hands, oh fuck his handsâŚ
Theyâre absolutely glued to your ass and he cannot hide the raging boner it gives him, but he does his best to be a gentleman and actually work your muscles before he chooses to be a brat. His touch drifts closer and closer to your labia and under the panties quickly. Heâs pulling them to the side, reaching down for his dripping cock, and nudging his way through your arousal to get his head in immediately.
âAh-ngh-woah, a warning, babe?!â
âSaid I was gonna make you feel good. Let me take care of your pussy too. Iâll-ngh, gotta make sure I donât miss an opportunity to help you relieve some stress.â
âI guess, if you put it that way. Iâll let you get back to work then while I beat this level. You donât mind, do you, sweet boy?â
His rhythm falters with the subtlety of shattering porcelain, overwhelmed in how he feels to use your body to get off while you ignore him until he can distract you⌠His only reply is to keep lapping away languorously with his hips, using just enough force to barely push you forward along the carpet. Connieâs gaze is centered on where he can see his cream-coated cock entering and leaving your grasping cunt. He withdraws fully to stimulate your entrance and his head a few times, then rubbing it through your lips and across your clit before abruptly shoving the entirety of his member back in your welcoming hole. Your face is blushing neon heat that has you forgetting the controller exists, almost biting the carpet to stay anchored.
Time slows drastically when you feel his spit-slicked thumb breach your tight back bud, but, as heâd massaged elsewhere, so had he here. The painful burn is quickly replaced with gently simulating fullness when he passes the muscle. Paired with your own fingers travelling down to aid your struggle, Connie finesses your body into convulsing release that leaves you both boneless on the floor.
His hand traipses down to touch the come weeping from your womb, then brings it back up to suckle your shared flavor into his mouth. You both light up in rose tones of arousal, then intimate giggles.
Taglist: @aotwarriorsimp @alexpro-nwn @animediplomat @antoxsmith @armoredpotato @aviinnit @beffjurky @blondeboyfriend @casuallyck @cherrxs @dearbaji @erwinsbaby @eyesucket @fairypiku @fandomficsobsession @fujoneshi @holographicceo @hinasakuino @interfectio-mortales @kenryug @koulakoukoula2003 @kxkyuu-main @lavenderdaisyhoney  @mybadluckshouldmakemefamous @chaotic-nick @nathalunalune @notgoodforlife @arsonszn @pockcock @poursomesunaonme @scouts-stuff @seychellse @shigarakiapologist @downbadpie @soaringmirror @sparklekitteh @stigandr-the-cat @syrma-sensei @reiners-milkbiddies @tiffanyy-21 @theinariakuma @tonaken @torapologist @touyyes @we-are-so-close @witchycamisado
#aot#aot x reader#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#aot smut#aot x reader smut#snk#shingeki no kyoujin#writing with kbee#aot x you#aot x y/n#reader insert#connie#connie smut#connie x reader#connie x you
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Oscar's Undisclosed Birthday
SoâŚmâgood friend @jealouscartoonist just shared with me this new cameo from Miles talking about Oscarâs birthday and this squiggly Pinehead is just all smiles now.
Listening to Miles describe with such pure joy an ideal birthday for Oscar was the big kick of serotonin that I didnât know I needed until I listened to the whole thing. Shoutout to whoever this Sarah person who sent in this cameo is. Thank you for doing the Pinehead community another solid.
This just makes me more salty that Oscar was NEVER EVER added to RWBY Chibi since Milesâ description of âOscarâs Undisclosed Birthdayâ is just perfect for as a concept for another wholesome episode of the series thatâs Oscar-worthy. Even calling the episode âOscarâs Undisclosed Birthdayâ seems perfect as an appropriate title.
Miles made my night with this cameo. Itâs everything I wanted for how Oscar would spent his special day (minus actually GIVING US HIS CANON birthday) and I love how Miles dropped more cute tidbits about Oscar as a character too.
Oscarâs favourite breakfast is waffles (and how his big sis Nora would actually make a big pile for him).
Apparently Oscar has trouble sleeping sometimes because of Oz being in his head so Ren gifting him a pair of headphones to drown out the voice of the old headmaster would be useful. Miles basically admitted that Oz is a chatterbox. Makes me think of that âBrain Before Sleepâ meme only replace the brain with Oz XD  Thatâs the first thing that popped into my head. Thanks for that imagery Miles.
Oscar loves going to the movies especially Spruce Lee (LOL) films which he shares in common with Jaune and thatâs how they bond.
Yang would take Oscar on a fun day at the amusement park where theyâd ride all the rides that heâs now tall enough to ride (another LOL from me because they always gotta poke fun that my little prince is a short king)---that would be a thing Yang would do and I cannot picture Oscar turning that down since, in the words of Ruby, Oscar is braver than he thinks and we have seen moments of Oscar being more daring than he looks so he totally would not pass up an opportunity to ride all the rides especially if Yang is the one pushing him to do it.
So the âGirl Who Fell Through the Worldâ is confirmed to be Oscarâs favourite childhood fairytale---and Blake getting him a second edition of it is cute being the book-worm that she is.
I also love the bit with Weiss panicking about not knowing what to get Oscar so she just gives him a lumpsome of money and Oscar being floored by it since heâs never had that amount of money in his life---that fits beautifully.
And of course, gotta love how Miles saved the best gift for last. Ruby gifting Oscar a new co-op videogame that they both end up spending the rest of his birthday playing til they both crash the morning after (Oscar first) is more than a perfect way to conclude Oscarâs birthday in my Rosegarden-shipping books.
*chefâs kiss*
Didnât even realize that Oscar liked playing videogames. Didnât know he had them back on the farm. This just makes me think back to his reaction to Rubyâs videogame comment back in V6. Puts the whole moment in a new context for me XD
All in all, Miles made me a happy Pinehead tonight.
~LMS (2023)
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Mess it up : pt 2
Summary: Years ago he had let you go for your own good. But this time, he isnât sure he can
Part of the Mess it up series
Pairing: brotherâs best friend rock star Bucky x fem reader (Steveâs sister) (dual pov)
Warnings: modern AU, angst, second chance, eventual smut, brothers best friend trope, implied cheating, self-deprecation, happy ending?
Inspired by: Mess it up by Gracie Abrams
Notes: This is the first time a fic has made its way from my laptop to the internet. So please be kind and do leave your feedback. Happy reading!Â
Chapter 2: Every time I get too close, I just go mess it up.
Reader POV
Stepping outside the airport gates, you were hit with an array of smells.
Hot bagels and car exhaust and manhole steams and people shouting and cars honking
Sounds you grew up listening to.
Sounds that used to remind you of home.
But you havenât considered New York City as your home for a while now. Youâve been living in Boston for the past four years completing law school at Harvard, and chose to stay back during breaks.
The small crammed apartment that you grew up in has been abandoned for years, ever since your mom passed away, and you have no emotional connect whatsoever with the fancy new penthouse your brother had bought to live with his girlfriend in.
To be completely honest however, you stopped considering New York as your home ever since that fateful night when a certain blue eyed man shattered your heartâŚâŚ..
âPeanut!â
Youâre snapped out of your reverie by a familiar, over enthusiastic voice. Your brotherâs voice.
The world knew him as Steven Grant Rogers, lead guitarist and vocalist of the âAvengersâ, one of the most sought-after music producers in the industry and the doting boyfriend of supermodel Natasha Romanoff.
You knew him as Stevie, the elder brother who practically raised you when your single mother had to work two jobs in order to raise her kids, the man who proudly shouts âthatâs my baby sisterâ every time you made an accomplishment, no matter how small, and refused to call you anything but peanut even though youâre a grown woman with a summa cum laude in criminal law from Harvard.
You let him engulf you in a big bear hug until you cannot breathe anymore. he steps back and it never ceases to amaze you how much heâs changed. Gone was the skinny blonde boy of Brooklyn, replaced by more than six feet of muscle and an intimidating beard. Even though the change was gradual, it was massive.
âwho are you and where is my human sized brother?â you asked, the same joke youâd cracked ever since he started bulking up. but it still cracks him up.
âThat scraggly idiot? show business ate him up.â Came the reply
âMore like he couldnât handle the pressure of having such a hot girlfriend.â Natasha answered from behind him, an amused smirk on her face and her eyebrows raised in challenge.
âhey what can I say, a manâs gotta do what heâs gotta doâ your brother drawled, playfully winking at his girl. That was their thing, teasing and taunting and bantering, and yet being equally besotted with each other.
âNat!â you exclaimed, dropping your bags to hug her, âyou didnât have to come to airport!â
She hugged you with the tenderness and love of an older sister âdonât be ridiculous. I already had to miss your graduation for work. Thereâs no way in hell Iâm missing an opportunity to see you again.â
âI here for an entire week Nat.â you replied fondly as Steve steered you both towards the car. In spite of what you said, you were glad to see Natasha. Youâd known her for as long as Steveâs been dating her and immediately liked her and her quick wit. the fact that she genuinely loved and cared about your brother and was supportive of his love for his family and friends made you love her even more.
                ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All throughout the ride from the airport your brother kept rambling about all that heâd planned for you while you were in the city, a sure tell of how excited he was to have you here. You turned around to see Nat, grinning at his childlike eagerness and you realised you had missed this, the easy comfort of being home. Of being coddled and pampered by your brother.
It isnât like you havenât met Steve since you left home. He tried his best to squeeze a few visits in every other month, but in between your studies and his work, it was a huge task in itself. And even then, it would be for a few hours, an overnight stay tops.
You liked this. This was reason why you were seriously considering moving back to New York, even though the San Francisco job offered you a few more amenities. So that you can see Steve more often. Especially now that your mom is gone and all that you both have left is each other.
âAnd itâs not just me whoâs all excited to have you back Peanut. Bucky has been cleaning the entire damn apartment like a crime scene ever since he heard youâre coming over. He washed the curtains for godâs sake. WHO WASHES CURTAINS?!â
The mention of his name jerked you back to reality. It took you a second to fully understand what Steve was saying, and when you did completely get what heâd said, you were suddenly terrified.
âWait a sec, why is Bucky cleaning your place?â you ask, hoping that none of your hysteria seeped into your words.
âCause I already cook and do the dishes, and that sloth hadnât cleaned in months, itâs like living with an animal. I swear Mrs Barnes would kill us both if she saw how we liveâŚ..â
âHold on Steve, do you and Bucky Live together?â
Steve immediately sensed something was off by the way you addressed him, âBucky and I have been sharing a place for years Y/N. is something wrong?â
âWhy would anything be wrong.â You laughed to cover your nervousness and took a moment to collect yourself, a tactic you learnt in law school, and replied calmly, âitâs just that you told me months ago that you and Nat are moving in together and I just assumed you would be living with her.â
âWe would have been if the genius here had not objected to the closet in our room. The poor designer has to redo the entire room just to fit in extra space for his beloved sneakers.â Nat interjected with mock annoyance. âIf you ask me, I think heâs fibbing intentionally because he isnât ready to leave his house husband just yet.â
âWell forgive me for thinking that my shoes deserve the same respect as yours. At least theyâre comfortable, not some bejewelled instrument of tortureâŚâ
You tuned out the rest of the banter, focussing on the chaos in your mind instead. You knew you might see Bucky one time or another during your visit. Heâs Steveâs best friend after all, along with his band mate. And even though you werenât completely ready for that, an evening around him was infinitely more comfortable than sharing a goddamn apartment with him.
All of a sudden, the air in the car wasnât enough and your head started clouding with thoughts. Thoughts you had kept locked away in some abyss of your brain for far too long. Thoughts that asked questions you couldnât bring yourself to answer, thoughts that reminded you of moments you couldnât bear to relive.
You cannot see him again.
It will ruin you, or whatever parts of you youâd salvaged and rebuilt over the years.
You try to convince Steve to let you stay at a hotel, reasoning that youâd already been offered accommodation by the firm at five-star hotel, so why waste that and trouble them, to which you brother gave you his trademark sad puppy eyes. They were fool proof and the bastard knew it. Heâd been using it to get his way since childhood.
So here you were, being driven by your obviously oblivious brother to your Exâs house, who also happened to be his closest friend.
And you have to spend the rest of the week pretending that he wasnât the only man you had ever loved. That he wasnât the one who stole all your firsts from you and in return gifted you an eternal heartache.
Like he wasnât the one who discarded you like a used tissue the minute he hit stardom.
Fuck this is going to be a long week.
Bucky POV
For the life of him, he couldnât sit still. Which was funny because James Buchanan Barnes, raised in the upper echelons of New York social scene, was taught from his childhood to sit still, to be calm and composed no matter.
But how on Earth was he to retain his composure when his heart was beating faster than Verstappenâs red bull, when his head was buzzing so much he stupidly wondered if was drugged. His stomach was in knots, his anxiety worse than his first sold out concert.
âIf it freaks you out so much, just leave man. Tell Steve that you had some shoot, hell, tell him anything. But get your shit together before he figures out.â Sam, another one of his bandmates and his closest friend after Steve, offered his sage advice. âMore importantly,â he sipped his beer, âBefore she figures out.â
Sam was probably the only person whom Bucky had told about your relationship. He wouldâve hid it from him as well if he had a choice, but Samuel Thomas Wilson was no fool. He had already noticed the lingering glances, the prolonged touches, the swapped sweatshirts. It was a good thing though because younger Bucky had felt relieved to let at least someone in on his secret, some one who could cover for him.
It was a good thing because older Bucky had someone to confide in and talk about you.
âDo you take Steve for an idiot? He knows my schedule; we share the same manager for godâs sake. He would smell my bullshit from miles away.â Bucky countered.
âStill better than him suspecting that the awkwardness between Y/N and you is because, well I donât know, maybe the fact that you dumped her ? â Sam chuckled.
âIâm glad you find my pain amusing you son of a bitch.â
âMaybe it wouldnât be awkward.â Bucky said after a while, hopefully. âI mean itâs been so long, too long even. Weâve both dated other people. It would be fine, if not like the old times.â
âCorrection, YOU have dated other people. She, from what I know, hasnât dated anyone after you.â Sam said, rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.
Even though the thought of you dating someone else, to give them your smile, your love, your body, filled bucky with dread, he still asked, â And you know this how ?â
âCause she told me.â
âYou talk to her?!â He couldnât believe it.
âYeah, now and again. You werenât the only guy who fancied her shithead.â Sam said, merely to get a rise out of him
And he got what he wanted, a low growl and a threatening look from his best friend. Still he continued, unbothered and unafraid, âSee, THIS is what Iâm talkinâ âbout. You still have feelings for her. Do you seriously think you can live in the same place as her without doing something stupid? without Steve noticing? â
Just then the front door opened, killing Buckyâs scathing reply in his throat. Steve entered first, lugging a couple of bags, his head turned backwards, saying something to Nat, who entered next.
And then his heart stopped.
And it started beating again.
Faster. Crazier.
His eyes fell on the one person theyâd craved for years, drinking in every detail, in all its glory. And your eyes found his.
And in that moment Bucky learnt what it was to be killed and reborn.
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagines#bucky angst#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky headcanon#bucky imagine#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#steve and bucky#bucky x reader#bucky barns#bucky fluff#fanfic#avengers fandom
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in many respects, these past few weeks in my phd program have been some of the most miserable in my entire life. institutions, academia included, cannot love you back and i am learning that in very personal, difficult, and tangible ways. there have been so many moments where i've completely and utterly understood why people give up on doctorate programs. ever since passing comps, i feel like i've had one moment of thinking i can't possibly be more stressed or anxious or uncomfortable until i'm confronted with the next. but here are some small joys:
i won an award for that dracula paper i wrote about blood transfusions. second place in the entire graduate program! hurray!
i published an essay last winter and now i'm in conversation with the person that essay is about, who not only read and loved the paper, but might want to commission me to write more. i have his number in my phone. i might have a really stunning professional opportunity on the other end of our scheduled phone conversation!
i got invited to a conference that is in a totally different field than what i studied. this could be because the conference is that desperate for papers (a real possibility) but maybe this also means that my Poe paper wasn't all that bad if my first attempt at writing something in the medieval field was good enough to warrant being invited to present it. i submitted my paper and haven't yet gotten the confirmation that it got accepted, but the prospect of going to my first conference -- and being personally invited to do so no less! -- is really nice
last, i applied to my first conference (in which i wasn't directly invited to attend), too!! there's a horror conference in new mexico that i'd kill to go to (no pun intended, i'm writing about a slasher film for this one lol) and well .. who knows if they'll accept but i'm so proud of myself for applying in the first place!
UPDATE: I JUST GOT AN EMAIL TELLING ME THAT MY HORROR PAPER GOT ACCEPTED THE SAME FUCKIN DAY I APPLIED. AHH!!
this is all to say ... i have to remember what a good friend said today: just because i'm having a horrible time doesn't mean i'm horrible at this. i gotta muscle through. i can do hard things. it won't be this difficult forever.
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đ and đ for the writer asks pls!
God I'm so sorry for this ramble đđ
đ Is there something you overuse, whether itâs a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation-
Religious Imagery đ
lmaoooo. I overuse that shit SOOO much. It's in every single fic I've ever written. Doesn't matter fluff or smut or what fandom, I always find a way to work it into the main themes. Literally writing a long af Price x Reader and its title is taken from Psalms đ
đ
I grew up a gay man in a Catholic military family in the Midwest of the United States. Gotta funnel that experience somewhere, so fics it is :D
đ Whoâs your blorbo and what are some of your favorite headcanons/ideas about them that repeatedly show up in your fics-
Okay this said free pass to ramble about blorbo so I will be taking that opportunity here lol, so my apologies i have many thoughts about this man. I'll use CoD bc it's the fandom I'm in rn so I gotta say John Price (Both the og and reboot though I'm just gonna refer to the reboot Price for this). This man does things to my brain that need to be studied under a microscope I swear đľâđŤđľâđŤ I have a whole ass character study of him written that's several pages long and I'm still not done.
Headcannons for him (some I've written, some just vibes):
-This man SCREAMS a good ol future midwestern dad type in the making to me. He loves to hunt and fish. He loves the solitude and quiet of both activities, even if he doesn't get anything. Its just peaceful. There is always a beer in the fridge for when the game is on. When he's got a family/partner/retired (whatever you'd prefer), he's a yard guy (yall know the type). I just feel like he cannot sit still when he's home. He's gotta be doing something with himself after years of keeping busy. He's got all the fun toys like a riding mower that is so unnecessary for the yard size but makes him happy. He's always outside in the spring/summer doing something to the yard and god forbid the grass get too tall. He's also not big on socializing with neighbors, a very much a keep to himself and/or his family kinda guy, but he's always SO polite and the ladies in his neighborhood love him.
-From my own homelife experience but it just feels so Price, when he's home he's AWFUL about just leaving his firearm on the counter or coffee table or bed side. Just wherever he remembered to take it off and set down and it's just another thing to forget where he set it like his phone and wallet. Speaking of, he's terrible about losing his phone/keys/wallet/etc. He has a little dish by the entry that he swears he puts it all into but they're never there when he goes to leave and he has to scramble to find them every time
-He's a coffee drinker (black with just a little sugar) and unironically loves to read the paper whenever he gets the chance. He's a small talker and enjoys it, he talks about the weather, gas prices, taxes, and match scores. He gets bored easily when just waiting around and will chat with just about anyone
-He has horrific night terrors and carries a lot of guilt for things he's done in his job. He firmly believes it was all necessary and worth it for the greater good but he wrestles with himself a lot. I personally like to think when Gaz pushes him on it after the interrogation in MW, it actually rattled him a bit. Not because he felt any guilt necessarily for what had just happened (I don't think he felt any in that instance), but because that's one of the first times someone else has pressed him on his moral convictions. "You draw the line where you need it" is not a belief that comes from nowhere or from a man who hasn't wrestled with himself and asked himself the very same questions Gaz was throwing at him. He meant every word he said though and while I feel guilt will catch up to him in the late hours of the night some nights after years of living like this, he fully believes he's justified in everything he does and it's integral to his character and who John Price is as a person
-He's a staunch atheist. Baptized but never believed in a God really anyways but after the things he's seen, he can't find it in himself to even entertain the thought. That being said, in the bottom of his desk is one of those old fashioned crosses that's hollow that holds holy water and one's last will and testament. Obviously being in the military there's already the records of his will but keeps that in his desk regardless because on the off chance he's wrong about there not being a God, it doesn't hurt to be safe.
He's SUCH a Girl Dad⢠in the making. He would THRIVE with having a daughter. I'm talking the tea parties, tiaras, letting her put makeup on him, his nails, all of it. He'd support her in any endeavors growing up and would do his damndest to be in the crowd any chance he can get. He'd be her biggest fan. Pictures of her on his desk, in his wallet. Always bragging about his daughter when he gets the chance because he'd be so proud of her
He's a salt of the earth kinda guy. Just has very classic masculinity. Like he's a Man⢠and takes pride in it. But its in the, "I'm gonna take care of everything because this is how I care for what's important to me" way. He enjoys being the handyman around the house and who people come to because they respect him. He has a Project Car in the garage that he swears he'll get to and the back is littered with power tools and lumber
(Okay this parts not headcannon because he not old, he's only 37!!) He's actually very tech savvy and likes things to be as up to date as he can get so everything runs smooth.
He feels personally responsible for the wellbeing of the other main 3 of 141 but not in a fatherly way like people think, but these men are his brothers and he hand picked them, he has so much faith in their abilities. (However he unwittingly becomes a mentor figure to Soap very much against his knowledge and will lol)
He had to shave once for an Op and the boys ragged him so hard he refuses to ever shave again. Genuinely fucked him up a bit lol
He has a temper. He's got a good lid on it 99% of the time but its always simmering underneath
Has a wicked sense of humor. Most people don't know or recognize it but he's actually the funniest person in the 141. He's always cracking jokes to break the tension but he says it with such a straight face before breaking into smile to let you know he's joking.
#okay ill probably leave it there#thanks for giving me an excuse to ramble about price#ask game#call of duty#john price#cain talks
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Until now, have you found any couple (canon or non canon) from any media (books, tv series, movies, anime/manga, etc) that the dynamics remind you of Neil/Andrew and Damen/Laurent?
if you're looking for dynamics specifically (as opposed to a full romance arc) the lymond chronicles, the queen's thief and empire of the vampire will scratch that damen/laurent itch.
it's common knowledge, at least in my niche circles, that cs pacat is a big fan of dorothy dunnett's work, that laurent is based on lymond and that his relationship with damen (down to specific scenes) was inspired by lymond's numerous boytoys. so reading the lymond chronicles after captive prince is constantly going aha! *leonardo dicaprio pointing meme*. what these books however don't have is a full romance arc with any of those men which is why you could say capri is, in a sense, a slash fic of the lymond chronicles. it's my favorite series of all time and i can't recommend it enough but it's also rather inaccessible in the beginning and has a steep learning curve - quite a commintment of your time and brain energy but so SO worth it!
the queen's thief is another series heavily inspired by the lymond chronicles and it has multiple ships that reminded me of damen/laurent: gen's love interest is very much a cast iron bitch and they do engage in an intense enemies to lovers romance, with some casualties. costis and kamet's story in thick as thieves is basically if the side quests laurent and damen went on were a whole separate book. and while not a canon romance like the previous two, whatever gen and costis have going on in the king of attolia is very reminiscent of the laurent/damen dynamic in book one (minus the slavery). two things to keep in mind if you decide to pick up the queen's thief: it's sort of ya (??) so the brutality and sexiness, while present, will not be on the same level as capri. and book one doesn't feature any of the above ships so, again, you gotta commit to the whole thing :)
now, while these two recs seem like no-brainers to me, i'm very excited to take this opportunity to yell about empire of the vampire from the rooftops AGAIN!! eotv is basically a story about epic quests and valiant deeds told by a jaded captive vampire hunter to his cunty vampire captor (who is blonde bc yes). jean françois is definitely inspired by anne rice's lestat (as the narrative format as a whole is inspired by interview with the vampire) but his dynamic with gabriel is just Peak Laurent/Damen Banter. "i speak your language better than you speak mine, sweetheart" and "hello, lover" galore! in fact, after i found out that pacat and jay kristoff know each other personally i became convinced that he had either read capri and borrowed the vibe OR *starts rambling about her conspiracy theory about how all australian fantasy authors drink secret australian magic juice that makes them write fun depraved sff, gets smacked on the head, passes out* where was i... ah yes, nasty gay vampires. eotv is very fun and very tropey, also very queer and sexy (esp book two) and it had my toxic yaoi needs covered however comma. jean françois/gabriel is basically them sitting in a room in the frame narrative and exchanging homoerotic barbs, while the story itself is about gabriel's past adventures (also very interesting but less homoerotic). it's unlikely that they're gonna have any sort of romance arc - unless someone reads the books and writes a fic of them. please.
alas, i still can't rec anything that comes close to what nora achieved with andreil. to me, the defining characteristics of their dynamic are two feral cats circling and sniffing each other, intricate rituals, overdramatic dialogue, aspec attraction (on neil's part). while one can attempt to find some of these elements in other stories, you cannot find all of them at once (aspec pov on relationships being particularly rare in fiction). there's just no other couple that manages to strike a perfect balance between the anime levels of drama and chaos on the one hand and the serious themes of trauma, acceptance, consent etc on the other hand. sorry, anon, ig we'll have to keep re-reading aftg until one of the aspiring authors i bet this fandom has a lot of writes their own book inspired by andreilđ¤ˇââď¸
#book tag#so there's a dorothy dunnett cabal and an australian/new zealand depraved sff cabal#and pacat is in the overlapping section of these two circles#i connected the dots
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Donât Rain on my parade (part 2)
So I made a second spicy part to appease lol jk đ¤ I am half awake drinking coffee as I write this filth lol
Tagging: @thevoidwriting here is the 2nd part
Warning: this second part is spicy, filthy, nsfwâ read at your own risk
Link to the first part: https://www.tumblr.com/krysta-cross/722418740682162176/dont-rain-on-my-parade
Rain instructed his colleagues to take care of the injured students as the test came to an end. He is still carrying you in his arms and lay you down on his bed, he immediately summoned the best healing mages of the academy to his quarters to tend on your injuries. He specifically instructed them to do the best they can to make sure you will live to see tomorrow or he will punish them immensely, not even showing his pent up guilt of causing this. The poor threatened mages put in their best effort to heal your wounds and change your clothes, after hours of spells they succeeded in saving your life. One of them went to tell Rain about the treatment success. âHead mage, we managed to heal her severe wound, her scratches and bruises and performed transfusion to make up for her blood loss. She will be awake later on.â he bowed his head down as he speak to the purple and gold clad mage who keenly watched as they do their job. âVery well, you both can leave now and assist the other injured fledglings.â he ordered and the pair immediately scurry out of the room.
The water mage sat down on the bedside to take a closer look at you. On your unconscious state he took his sweet time observing your now steady breaths, your lips slightly parted and your chest rising and falling as you breathe. âYou have potential, you just need to undergo training and you can aid me on my works after sometime, little vixenâŚâ he whispered and caressed your warm cheek. He canât help but to stare at your calm face and lean closer, now inches away where he can feel your warm exhales from your lips.
You then opened your eyes and it met his so close so you felt threatened, the flashback of the previous fight unearthed from your memory. Your shocked response is to push him but youâre still too weak to even do so, the mage felt youâre threatened so he held both your hands that is on his chest and said âApologies for startling you, I am just checking if youâre alright now, donât force yourself to moveâŚâ
You snatched your hands away from his grasp and positioned yourself to sit upright, your back on the headboard. âWhat happened to our test? Did I pass?â you asked anxiously, knowing that your last attack didnât even leave a scratch on him. âYou did, I admit I didnât expect you to use your own blood to shoot at me and thatâs impressive, though itâs so weak it didnât even made an impact. Nevertheless you did splendidly out of all the newbies so I will congratulate you and take you as my personal apprentice from today on, Y/N. Be prepared for the hellish training I will put you through to hone your talents.â he told you and that filled your heart with glee and dread at the same time as he had mentioned a hellish training but you sighed heavily to ease the building tension and spoke âThank you master Rain, I will be in your care then, please be patient with me as I am really clueless sometimes but I am very much willing to learn from you!â your voice tone rises as you talk to him, you simply cannot contain the excitement as you just didnât manage to pass but the head mage acknowledged your talents and took you as his personal student. That itself is a golden opportunity for a nobody like you.
Rain chuckled as he heard your response,âYou are indeed something, Y/N. I gotta admit I am not a patient type of person but I will try to be patient with you as you wish, please do the same for me.â he said and tucked some of your hair behind your ear which stunned you and left you speechless.
The head mage moved closer to you from where he was sitting a while ago and cupped your face and whispered in his husky voice âYouâre beautiful up close, Y/N. Did you cast a spell on me to be drawn to you like this?â he leans so close, you can feel his breath near your lips, seemingly waiting for your reaction but you are too stunned to even react so he took his chance and kissed you, his playful tongue played around your warm mouth and you canât help but moan as he conquered your lips. You can feel his hands crawling around your body, making their way under your top and his warmth are sending sparks of heat in you that you feel your knees weaken even if youâre sitting upright on the bed that you wrapped your arms around his neck for support as his kiss goes deeper and intense he is now going down on your neck down to your collar bone, trailing kiss marks over them as he go.
âUhhhnnnn, m-master RainâŚâ you uttered softly as you feel his touches and kisses all over you.
âY/N, you drive me crazy and itâs unbelievable since weâve just met⌠I canât stop myself for wanting you this bad.â he whispered in your ear and that made your heart skip a beat. Never in your wildest dream you thought someone as beautiful and majestic as this man will be mad for you this fast. The surge of your emotions got you washed over and you kissed him back, throwing your inhibitions out of the window which he reciprocated with a tight hug and another deep kiss, the heat of the moment consumed you as you went on.
You knew the man is experienced as he already removed your bra under your shirt and already working on the tied belt on your waist. His impatience showing as he is doing all this so fast while his mouth is busy silencing yours that your moans are all kept in, a way not to make anyone hear a sound from this secluded chamber.
He managed to remove your top clothing and pulled off from the kiss to appreciate the half naked beauty in front of him. You felt anxious under his gazes and hugged yourself but he pinned your arms above your head and indulged himself on your rich mounds, he has a way with his mouth that he knew how to tease you from there. You bit your lower lip to stop the impending sounds lumping on your throat as he romances you, you can feel his other hand touching your inner thighs, his fingers are now playing on your still clothed clit that you can feel yourself getting wet on each stroke.
He stopped teasing your nipples and went back to torridly kissing you, he lets go of your hands in hostage so he can use his other hand to caress your breast as his other hand is working on removing your last pieces of clothing. Your tied on belt is already undone a while ago so he yanked your skirt and shorts down, leaving only your thin silk lace panty covering you.
He pulled away from you and you blankly stared at the man removing his clothes in front of you, leaving nothing on. His godly features in full glory for you to see. You can feel your tension rising as you look at his erect dick, your mind trying to process if this size will even fit where it will.
âKeep your drool in check, Y/N. I donât like them on my covers.â he said and laughed as you touched your mouth to check if you are drooling which isnât the case, you felt embarrassed as he got you like that.
You turned your head away in embarrassment but you are taken by surprise as he lifted you up, his hands are on each of your thighs, supporting your weight as he positioned himself between your legs, you donât have an option but to grab onto his bulky shoulders, your face are now so close and you can feel his heartbeat as your chests are pressed against each other.
âCan we go all the way, Y/N?â he sweetly asked, staring at you while waiting for your response.
Your mind is in shambles, you know youâre inexperienced in this aspect as you spent most of your life training and didnât even date anyone until now. You felt like you will bore him or if you can take on his size but the sensation and heat of the moment won you over and the only words you can come up with to tell him is âmake me yoursâŚâ
After hearing your reply, Rain spared no time to proceed. You can feel his hardness pressing on your wet opening with only your thin underwear in between them. He pushed the cloth aside and you can feel him entering slowly, your virginity is already his to take in few moments but you are too drunk on your desires to even think straight. The pain as he makes his way in intensifies that you hugged him tighter, buried your head on his neck in an attempt to stop yourself from letting out any sound. He felt you trembling in his arms so he gently kissed your ear and say âIâm sorry if this hurts but I can stop if you wantâŚâ. His concern touched you that the pain was slowly numbed by his words like magic. âDonât stop, pleaseâŚâ you begged in between your breaths and braced yourself for him. You can feel him pushing his hard dick deeper into your cunt and finally made it all the way in, you can feel him throbbing inside your wet, warm cave. You gasped as he started to go in and out, his thrusts goes faster and deeper that you canât hide your screams of pleasure which is like a sweet music in his ears.
âY/N, you are mine and only mine!â he said in a commanding voice as he rammed his merciless cock deeper, he placed you gently down the bed without pulling out and continued to thrust in and out of your warm slick cunt. âR-Rain unghh~ haaaaaahhhhâŚâ you muttered as you feel him touching the sweet spot and teasing your body with his playful hands. You can hear his soft moans and breathing as he went on, his body heat engulfing your frail body under his like a warm blanket on a winter day. His movements are becoming faster, his breaths getting deeper and you can just moan in ecstasy. He used his strong arms to lift his upper body off of you, he is now staring at you, under him as he continues to move. You reached your now sweaty hands to touch his face, this moment seems like a dream that touching him and feeling this warmth radiating from his tanned skin still feels unreal.
âRain⌠give it all to meâŚâ you said as you feel him tensing up inside you, signifying he is nearing his climax and so are you.
He smirked and leaned down, his lips touching your ear and whispered âI donât plan on pulling out, Y/N.â His words with his warm breath sent tickles on your feet as you felt him going faster and hugging you so tight as he let his seeds flood inside you, coating your walls with the warm fluid that you feel it overflowing out of you.
You are still floating in pleasure, catching your breath after that intense love making that your body feels numb for a while, you can still feel his weight over you and he slowly lifts himself up and pulls out, he watched as his cum flows out of you and smiles. He noticed that his purple bed covers are stained with a mixture of your bodily fluid with the blood being the most vibrant one, he is too engrossed with your activity to notice it.
âY/N, are you okay?â he worriedly asked, the mage seemed to be always worried every time he sees your blood.
âMmm, yes⌠I think so⌠ughââ you answered weakly and grunts, the body pains slowly creeping up to you now as the adrenaline dies down.
âYouâre a virgin, did you not regret giving it to me?â the water mage asked, as he rolled on your side to face you.
âI told you to make me yours and you did, I think regret is out of the question.â you assured him and caressed his cheek.
âY/N, you donât have any idea how you made me happy today⌠you are mine and I am yours now. I hope I can make you happy, always.â Rain told you as he planted a kiss on your lips.
âThis is more than I could ask forâŚâ you said and leaned your head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat like a slow lullaby as you fell asleep.
Hope this is good enough haha~
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