#if i do it more than a few seconds ill just faint
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idkyetxoxo · 17 hours ago
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Aemond Targaryen - A Dance of Ambition
Summary - A fierce young woman meets a brooding Targaryen prince who defies expectations. As tension crackles between them—both verbal and unspoken—she discovers they may be more alike than she thought.
Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x Harroway reader
Warnings - None
Word count - 2600
Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist
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My father's voice was soft as I ran the brush through my hair. "Please, be kind. He's a prince... a Targaryen prince, to be precise."
I set the brush down, smoothing the fabric of my dress as I turned to face him. "That means nothing to me," I replied, adjusting the neckline with a flick of my wrist.
"Please, my love. Just this once, try not to be so... brash," he murmured, almost swallowing his words, and I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled from my chest.
"Father, you speak as if I have no manners at all," I said with a teasing smile, watching the weariness deepen the lines on his face as he sighed.
"You know what I mean," he relented, his shoulders slumping. I exhaled, stepping closer to wrap my arms around his neck.
"Do not worry, I will be on my best behaviour," I assured him, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. I glanced at my reflection one more time, the smirk already forming on my lips.
"And that's exactly what worries me," he muttered under his breath, leaving the room without another word.
Since my mother's passing, my father had treated me as though I were his entire world. I was his only child, and in the wake of losing his great love, he never remarried.
I had become a living reminder of the woman he adored, a memory he clung to, coddling me like a fragile thing.
People whispered behind our backs, blaming him for my haughty behaviour, for my sharp tongue and indifference to the opinions of others. But their gossip didn't bother me.
I knew how deeply he loved me, and I wore that truth like armour.
This meeting with the prince—this potential match—was one of the few prospects my father deemed worthy of his precious daughter.
If he had gone to such lengths to arrange it, the least I could do was ensure that the prince, and his family, were as perfect as they claimed.
The grand hall of the Keep was as intimidating as I'd imagined. Its vaulted ceilings and towering columns stretched endlessly, and the air was thick with the weight of history and power.
My father walked beside me, his arm linked with mine as if to steady me, though we both knew it was his nerves that needed calming.
His grip tightened slightly as we neared the dais, where Prince Aemond awaited us, his figure tall and composed in black and silver.
"Remember, be courteous," my father whispered, though his voice trembled slightly. "Please."
I offered him a brief smile, more for his benefit than anything else. "Of course, Father. Always."
Aemond stood with the poise of a warrior and the air of royalty, his lone eye fixed upon me with an intensity that sent a thrill through the room. His other eye, hidden beneath a leather patch, gave him an ominous air, one that might have unsettled others.
But I had never been easily cowed.
Beside him, Queen Alicent watched carefully, her expression unreadable, while King Viserys, though weakened by age and illness, managed a welcoming smile.
"Lord Harroway," the king greeted my father warmly. "And this must be your daughter."
"Yes, Your Grace," my father replied, bowing low. "My daughter, Lady—"
I stepped forward before my father could finish, interrupting him without a second thought.
"I am Lady Harroway," I said, my voice cool and clear. I curtsied, but only just enough to avoid outright insult. I did not lower my head. "It is an honour, Your Grace."
My father tensed beside me, but I ignored the faint hiss of his breath.
The Queen exchanged a quick glance with Aemond, whose face remained impassive, though his eye did flicker with the slightest hint of interest.
His lips curled ever so faintly—not quite a smile, but something close. Something unreadable.
"We are pleased to meet you, Lady Harroway," Aemond said at last, his voice smooth but carrying a weight that demanded attention.
"And I, you, Prince Aemond," I replied, meeting his gaze without flinching.
His eye gleamed like polished amethyst in the firelight, and I wondered how many lords and ladies had been made uneasy by that stare. I would not be one of them.
"Though I must admit, I was under the impression that princes of royal blood had more important matters than to be paraded before potential brides."
My father nearly choked. "My love—"
But Aemond raised a hand, silencing him without a word. "Perhaps," he said, stepping closer, his tone as unshaken as his expression.
"But sometimes, even a prince must take note of what is placed before him. Whether it is worth his time is another matter entirely."
I smirked, tilting my head slightly, meeting his challenge without hesitation.
"Well, I do hope I prove worthy of such precious time. Though, I must say, the decision lies as much with me as with you, my prince."
Aemond's lips quirked again, and for a moment, I thought I saw something like amusement flash behind his gaze.
He took a step toward me, close enough that I could feel the sheer force of his presence. His silence was deliberate, and I knew he was testing me.
Waiting for me to falter.
But I held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
"Indeed, it does," Aemond finally said, his voice low, his eye still locked on mine. "And what is your impression, Lady Harroway?"
"I have yet to be impressed, Prince Aemond," I said, though I couldn't quite suppress the mischievous edge to my tone. "But I'm certain you'll do your best."
The Queen shifted slightly in her seat, a flicker of disapproval crossing her face, while my father's knuckles turned white from how tightly he gripped the hilt of his cane.
I could feel his anxiety radiating off him, but I didn't care. I was too absorbed in the game being played.
My father had spent years building this fragile bridge between our house and the Targaryens, and here I was, dangling it over the edge.
Yet, for all his efforts, for all the whispered warnings, I couldn't help but wonder if I was destined for something more than the life they envisioned for me.
Aemond's expression didn't change, but his eye gleamed with an unmistakable spark.
"It seems I have my work cut out for me," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly. "I look forward to the challenge."
"I'm sure you do," I replied, a faint smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
My father finally spoke, his voice strained as he tried to smooth over what he clearly feared was a disastrous first impression.
"Your Grace, my daughter... she means no offence. She is simply... spirited."
The Queen's lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flicking toward her son as if trying to gauge his reaction. But Aemond's attention never wavered from me.
"No offence taken, Lord Harroway," he said smoothly. "I appreciate honesty. It is rare to find."
I arched an eyebrow, a little taken aback by his words but intrigued nonetheless. He was calm, far too calm for a prince who had just been openly challenged.
Most men would have been insulted or, at the very least, unnerved. But Aemond seemed... entertained.
"Honesty is a luxury some cannot afford," I said, testing the waters further. "But I've never been one to spare words for the sake of pleasing others."
Aemond's gaze sharpened. "Good. The world has enough liars."
For a moment, the air between us seemed to crackle with something unspoken, something that neither of us was willing to break first.
It was as if we were locked in a silent battle, each waiting for the other to make a move.
Finally, the Queen spoke, her voice cool but polite. "Lady Harroway, we hope you will find your time at court... enjoyable."
I smiled sweetly, though my words were edged with sarcasm. "I'm sure it will be most illuminating, Your Grace."
As we took our leave, my father's face was pale with barely suppressed anxiety.
The moment we were out of earshot, he let out a low groan. "What in the Seven Hells were you thinking?"
I glanced at him, still feeling the strange, electric sensation from my exchange with Aemond.
"I was thinking, Father, that perhaps a Targaryen prince isn't as infallible as you've made him out to be."
"You're going to ruin this," he muttered, running a hand through his greying hair. "The Queen was glaring at you—did you not see?"
"Oh, I saw," I said, unable to hide the smug smile that crept across my face. "But did you see Prince Aemond? He wasn't angry, Father. He was intrigued."
"And that," my father sighed, "is what worries me most."
─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───
The night air in King's Landing was cool, a refreshing contrast to the heat that had lingered throughout the day.
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the city, its quiet streets almost peaceful beneath the faint rustle of leaves and distant waves crashing against the shore.
I had never been one to stay confined for long, and tonight, the pull to escape the suffocating confines of the Keep had been too strong to resist.
I slipped out of my chambers with ease, the well-practised steps of stealth learned from years of dodging watchful eyes at my father's estate.
Wearing a simple dark cloak over my gown, I moved swiftly through the corridors, careful to avoid the guards who patrolled the castle.
The thrill of sneaking out, of defying expectations, made my pulse quicken.
My father would be furious if he knew, but that only made it all the more exhilarating.
The city below the Keep was alive in a way the castle could never be. While most of the nobles slept, commoners carried on their business, laughter and music spilling from taverns as the late-night revellers enjoyed their freedom.
But I wasn't interested in mingling with the crowds.
No, I wanted something more, something uncharted. The narrow alleys and hidden corners of King's Landing called to me, promising adventure.
As I wandered further into the maze of streets, my steps light and unhurried, I couldn't help but marvel at how different the city felt at night.
The oppressive weight of the court and its rigid rules seemed to lift, leaving behind a strange sense of liberation.
I had just turned into a quiet courtyard, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across the cobblestones, when I sensed someone watching me.
My hand instinctively went to the small dagger I kept hidden beneath my cloak, a precaution that had become second nature.
"You know," came a voice, low and smooth from the darkness, "you really shouldn't be out here all alone."
I turned sharply, but I wasn't startled. I knew that voice.
Stepping from the shadows, Aemond emerged, his silver hair catching the moonlight, his lone eye gleaming with a hint of amusement.
He was dressed far more casually than I'd ever seen him—no heavy armour, no regal attire—just simple black leathers that clung to his form, emphasizing the quiet strength he carried so effortlessly.
My pulse quickened, but not from fear.
"I could say the same to you, Prince Aemond," I replied coolly, though a smile tugged at my lips. "Surely a Targaryen prince has more pressing matters than lurking in alleyways."
Aemond's eye flickered with amusement, though his face remained stoic as ever. "Lurking? Hardly. I was merely taking in the night air when I spotted something curious."
"Oh? And what curiosity might that be?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
His gaze lingered on me, the intensity of his stare making the air between us crackle with tension.
"A lady of your standing, sneaking through the city in the dead of night. Unchaperoned. One might think you were up to something."
I stepped closer, refusing to be intimidated by the sharpness of his gaze. "And if I were? What would you do, Prince Aemond? Drag me back to the Keep? Lecture me on proper behaviour?"
He smiled then, just barely, the corner of his mouth lifting in a way that was both infuriating and intriguing. "Oh, I doubt anything I say would influence you in the slightest, Lady Harroway."
"You'd be right," I quipped, folding my arms and leaning against the stone wall behind me. "I've never been one for lectures."
He took a step closer, his boots clicking softly against the cobblestones, his eye never leaving mine.
"Then tell me," he said, his voice low, "what is it that brings you out here, sneaking through the city like some common thief?"
I shrugged, unbothered by his scrutiny. "Curiosity, I suppose. Or perhaps boredom. The walls of the Keep are far too stifling for my liking."
"You find the court dull?" he asked, his tone mildly teasing.
I smirked. "I find the people tiresome. Everyone so careful, so poised, afraid to speak their mind. It's all rather exhausting."
"Careful," Aemond said softly, his voice almost a purr. "If you speak too openly, someone might take offence."
I tilted my head, meeting his challenge head-on. "Let them. I've never been afraid of speaking the truth."
Aemond's eye darkened with something unreadable, but there was no anger, no offence taken. Instead, he seemed almost... pleased.
"You're an intriguing one, Lady Harroway," he murmured, his tone more thoughtful now. "Most women at court would go to great lengths to charm me, to flatter and appease."
"Well," I said simply, my chin lifting slightly. "I've never been one for flattery."
He chuckled, a low, almost dangerous sound that sent a shiver down my spine. "That much is clear. You don't bend, do you?"
"Not for anyone," I replied, my voice steady despite the strange tension simmering between us.
For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching out as we stood there, mere paces apart, locked in a silent battle of wills. His gaze held mine, searching, testing, and I refused to look away.
I could feel the weight of his presence, the sharpness of his mind behind that calculating eye. He was not a man easily impressed, nor was he one to back down from a challenge.
But I wasn't either.
Finally, he stepped back, though his gaze never wavered. "You are a rarity, Lady Harroway."
"I prefer the term 'unique,'" I said, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgement. "Unique, then."
There was a pause, a strange sense of understanding passing between us in the quiet of the night.
We were two people who didn't fit the mould, who defied expectations in a world that demanded conformity. And in that moment, I sensed that Aemond understood that better than most.
"Will you return to the Keep?" he asked, his voice softer now.
I exhaled, my earlier defiance softening just a fraction. "Perhaps. Or perhaps I'll wander a bit longer. The city has more to offer than courtly banter."
Aemond's lips quirked again, a rare hint of a smile. "I suspect it does."
We stood there for a moment longer, neither of us quite willing to be the first to leave. There was something unspoken between us, something simmering beneath the surface.
But neither of us would acknowledge it. Not yet.
Finally, Aemond broke the silence. "Until we meet again, Lady Harroway," he said, his tone formal but laced with something else—something deeper.
I smirked, my eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "Oh, I'm sure we will, Prince Aemond."
With that, I turned, disappearing into the shadows of the city streets, the thrill of our exchange still buzzing in my veins.
I could feel his gaze on me as I walked away, a smile playing at my lips. He hadn't rattled me. In fact, I had the distinct feeling I had rattled him.
And that, I thought with satisfaction, was a victory in itself.
A/n - I gotta start writing some quiet reserved characters as well tbh 😭
Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy @veesuguru
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caffeinatedopossum · 3 months ago
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My constant physical state lately has been like what I assume a healthy person feels doing intense exercise
Like 24/7 just so fucking tired, out of breath, heart is racing, muscles are all sore. Then some other stuff like dizziness, blacking out, and loss of balance/coordination that maybe normal people don't experience from working out unless they really over do it
Add to all of that my other symptoms like joint pain in all my fucking joints and migraines and I'm really not sure how I'm alive some days
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fandoms-x-reader · 5 months ago
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MC Faints
Requested By: @space-dragon-ace
Headcannons
Summary: The brothers (individually) react to MC who faints. Word Count: 4,146
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This time of year had been the most stressful for you.
The brothers were always fighting for your attention, so you rarely had time for yourself. 
You felt like the second you got home from RAD you were being pulled left and right by one brother or another.
And while you appreciated that they wanted to hang out with you, exams were coming up and as an exchange student, there was an immense amount of pressure on you to do good.
And since you were under that pressure, you had to find time to make sure you were studying.
Which unfortunately meant cutting into your sleep schedule.
You were overworked and exhausted and the only thing that was keeping you upright was the anxiety of knowing that the exams were in the next few days.
Lucifer was a very overworked person himself. So, he had a hard time noticing when someone was struggling to keep up with their workload.
It’s not that he couldn’t pick up on the signs of your exhaustion, it’s just between student council business and keeping his brothers out of trouble, he didn’t really have time to look for those signs.
So, when you fainted in the middle of a student council meeting, he was more surprised than anything.
You had been standing there, looking just as you usually did with no noticeable signs of distress.
And then the next second you were on the ground with his brothers surrounding you.
After the initial shock, Lucifer began thinking of reasons as to why you may have fainted and that’s when all of the little signals suddenly became clear to him.
It’s as if they were bright neon signs that stated you were overtired and ready to collapse.
And Lucifer suddenly became very protective of you, telling his brothers to give you space before whisking you away to the House of Lamentation where he could properly take care of you.
Lucifer held your hand the entire time you were asleep, gently touching his other hand to your forehead occasionally to make sure you weren’t running a fever or anything like that.
When you finally woke up, Lucifer gave you a small smile, apologizing to you for not noticing the signs of your suffering earlier.
“It’s not your fault, Lucifer,” you reassured him before adding, “I just need to do a better job of managing my time.”
Lucifer planned on helping with that.
He already planned to have a long talk with his brothers about respecting your time so that you didn’t have to sacrifice your own health just to keep up with your grades.
On top of that, Lucifer invited you to his room after school much more often. 
He claimed that it was to help make sure you were staying relaxed, but in reality, he needed a break just as much as you did.
And you were the only thing that helped him relax. 
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Demons didn’t get sick the same way that humans did.
That was one thing you had come to learn during your time in the Devildom.
They didn’t have a flu season and they didn’t get shots to stave off illness.
So when you started feeling sick, you didn’t think to mention it to the brothers.
After all, you were sure it would only end in a very long conversation consisting of you trying to explain your sickness while they bombarded you with a hundred questions.
You did your best to hide how awful you were really feeling, wearing a smile and doing your best to not look shaky or pale.
And it seemed to work because the brothers were as persistent as ever about spending time with you - especially Mammon.
And you loved spending time with Mammon. You thought it was adorable how he always fought for your attention.
But, today, you were hoping that he would get tired of going out and doing things and let you return to the House of Lamentation.
You would be fine even if he wanted to watch a movie with you at home. Then, if you fell asleep, you could just say you were really tired. It’s not like Mammon would be mad at you for very long anyway.
But, of course, when you were feeling very under the weather,+
Mammon decided he had a full day planned for the two of you.
From shopping to watching him do a photo shoot to trying out new restaurants - Mammon just wanted to spend the whole day together.
You did your best to keep up - to act like nothing was wrong.
But at the end of the day your ailment caught up to you and as you were standing next to Mammon at the casino, you felt incredibly lightheaded.
“I think I’m going to go sit down for a moment,” you told Mammon and he gave you a small frown.
“But, I’m about to win the jackpot!” Mammon argued and you once again smiled at him, agreeing to stay.
Moments later, Mammon did win the jackpot. He let out a victorious laugh and turned to celebrate with you only to find you collapsing into his arms.
His celebration was cut short as he was now freaking out trying to get you to wake up and gently brushing your hair out of your face as tears threatened to form in his eyes.
He rushed you back to the House of Lamentation and after Lucifer and Satan looked over you, they determined you had just fainted from being sick.
They gave Mammon some medicine to give to you when you woke up and then left.
Mammon stayed by your side the entire time and he felt a huge weight lift off his shoulders when you finally opened your eyes.
His lips were turned down into a frown as he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”
“I didn’t want to ruin our day together,” you replied and it only made Mammon more sad as he pulled you into a hug.
“I thought you died,” he admitted, his arms tightening around you, and you could see how affected he was by seeing you faint.
“I’m sorry, but I’m okay. It’s just a cold,” you told him and although he was satisfied with your answer, he wasn’t letting you go from his arms.
He needed to hold you there for a little while longer, just as some extra reassurance that you were okay.
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Levi was absolutely determined to finish the new game that he had bought.
It was a two-player game that he specifically purchased because he thought you would enjoy playing it with him.
Which meant that you were being dragged along for the ride whether you wanted to or not.
Levi wanted to finish the game as quickly as possible so that he could be the first person to review it and in order to do so, he had you pull two all-nighters back to back.
You were exhausted and ready to call it quits, but Levi was very convincing when he wanted to be. 
He knew all of the right bribes to offer you to keep you awake and playing.
On top of that, you were genuinely happy to be spending time with Levi.
But as the alarm clock rang after the second all-nighter that happiness you were feeling was overtaken by your exhaustion. 
You let out a groan as you sat down your controller, looking at the clock in Levi’s room as if it betrayed you by signaling it was time to get ready for school.
You and Levi still hadn’t finished the game and you couldn’t help but stare off into space with dread as you realized that meant that you would be in Levi’s room again after school today trying to finish it.
And no amount of caffeine would help you survive a third all-nighter in a row.
You didn’t say anything to Levi as you left his bedroom to get ready for school. In fact, you didn’t say anything to any of the brothers all day.
You weren’t trying to be rude, you were just too tired to care.
It wasn’t until you fainted at lunch that they realized something was genuinely wrong.
They all clamored over to you as you went down in the middle of the room, the other students whispering and asking what happened.
The scene caused quite the commotion which led to Diavolo finding out quickly. 
 As you rested in the infirmary, Diavolo questioned the brothers about what could have caused you to collapse.
Lucifer turned to Levi, claiming that he had been spending the most time with you lately.
Diavolo asked Levi if he noticed you feeling unwell and Levi innocently told him you looked like you were fine during your two all-nighters together.
“Wait - did you say that they hadn’t slept in two straight days?” Diavolo questioned and all of the brothers looked at Levi incredulously. 
Levi’s words suddenly registered in his own mind as he realized that he was the reason you fainted.
He immediately started panicking as his mind tried to come up with ways to make it up to you.
And as if his guilt wasn’t punishment enough, he had to endure a multiple-hour-long lecture from Lucifer about the importance of sleep for humans. 
Levi was afraid to face you the next time you saw him. He was afraid that you would hate him for forcing you to stay awake with him.
You reassured him that you had fun playing the game with him.
“Next time, maybe just let me get a couple hours of sleep in,” you teased and a blush rushed to his cheeks as he nodded his head.
Levi was really happy that you still wanted to play games with him despite what happened and he made a promise to himself to prioritize your health over the game from now on.
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Between his brothers and the busy life of being a member of the student council, you and Satan didn’t get a whole lot of free time to spend together.
So, when the opportunity did present itself where Satan was able to steal you away, the two of you liked to take advantage of it.
There was an outdoor festival happening up in the human world and Satan wanted to take you to it.
He knew that it had been a while since you visited and the festival had an overall theme that he knew you would both enjoy.
You were ecstatic when he asked you to go with him and the two of you left almost immediately after.
The festival was absolutely gorgeous and it was full of things that you and Satan could do together.
You shared the cuisines, you bought souvenirs, and you even participated in some of the side activities they offered.
And while you were enjoying your time with Satan, there was one problem - the heat.
The Devildom had no sun to shine brightly or warm the weather so you had grown accustomed to the weather there.
But in the human world, the sun was at large, beating down on you.
You hadn’t prepared for it to be so hot and were starting to feel light-headed.
Satan was usually so attentive and would recognize something was off the second that you started to not feel good.
But, he was so distracted by everything else going on that he didn’t notice.
He was like a kid in the candy shop, holding your hand as he dragged you from stall to stall.
He was talking to a vendor about a necklace they had when you felt like your head was starting to spin.
Satan turned to ask your opinion on the piece of jewelry with full intentions of buying it for you.
But, when he faced you, he saw how flushed your complexion was.
He barely had time to react before you were collapsing.
The necklace was long forgotten as Satan easily caught you in his arms.
He immediately went into doctor mode, doing his best to recall everything he had learned about humans.
His mind was racing with possible reasons as to why you could have fainted. The possibilities seemed endless.
Until he placed his hand on your forehead and noticed that you felt hot to the touch.
And it was like everything had clicked into place as he was suddenly rushing you back to the House of Lamentation.
He laid you in his bed because he figured it would be easier to take care of you there since the other brothers wouldn’t barge in.
When you woke up, it took you a moment to figure out where you were and what happened but a deep blush coated your cheeks as you began to comprehend the situation.
“I’m sorry I ruined our date,” you stated, refusing to look at Satan.
He immediately leaned forward and cupped your cheeks before tilting your head up to look into his eyes.
“You didn’t ruin our date. I still had a great time - did you?” Satan questioned and you nodded your head.
He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before telling you, “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
You leaned into his touch and he pulled you into his arms, attempting to calm his heart rate that had been racing since your first collapsed.
As calm and composed as he remained, Satan had been so scared when you fainted and now he was going to keep you in his arms for however long it took to convince himself that you were okay.
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You were heading home after school when Asmo suddenly approached you.
He had such a happy smile on his face when he saw you and you could hear the excitement in his voice.
Asmo had been invited to a special event that night and he asked if you would be his plus one.
You could see the jealous looks you were getting from miscellaneous other people as Asmo stood before you with a hopeful look.
When you agreed to go, Asmo let out a happy noise of excitement before taking your hand and leading you into town.
The two of you needed to start getting ready right away!
He wanted the two of you to have matching outfits so he took you to Majolish to get new ones.
The two of you spent a while there trying on different outfits, attempting to find matching ones that fit both your and Asmo’s styles.
And you had finally found an outfit that had a mix of both. 
There was just one problem - it had a corset. And in true corset fashion, it was quite restricting. 
Asmo was dying over the way you looked in that outfit, giving you compliment after compliment and looking so happy while doing it.
You didn’t tell him about the corset being too tight, instead agreeing to buy it.
The event would only be for a little while, so you figured it would be fine. All you had to do was last until the end of the event.
And you had managed to do just that, albeit with a bit of a struggle.
You felt like the corset was somehow getting tighter and tighter as the night went on and you were starting to feel short of breath and hot. 
Asmo could see that you weren’t feeling one hundred percent, so he suggested that the two of you head back to the House of Lamentation.
Though, he didn’t understand why you weren’t feeling well. Did you have something to drink when he wasn’t looking?
The two of you barely made it to the House of Lamentation when everything went black and you fell to the ground.
Asmo panicked immediately, shouting for Lucifer to come outside and help you as his hands shakily held your head, not knowing what to do.
When Lucifer inspected the scene in front of him, he noticed the corset and demanded Asmo take it off.
Lucifer was so sure that the article of clothing was the cause of your fainting so Asmo quickly rushed you to your bedroom and took the corset off you, staring intensely at your face as he waited for something to happen.
You woke up shortly after and Asmo let out a loud sigh of relief as he pulled you into his arms, blinking past the tears that had formed in his eyes.
He stroked your hair as you took deep breaths, the feeling of your lungs expanding fully was something that felt strangely nice.
“If the outfit was too tight, we could have gotten you something else,” Asmo told you softly.
“I’m sorry, I just wanted to look good for your event,” you replied and Asmo pulled away from the hug to cup your cheeks and look you in the eyes.
“You look perfect in everything. You didn’t have to suffer all night - I wanted you to have a good time,” Asmo replied.
“I did have a good time, Asmo,” you reassured him and he pulled you back into his arms.
“Just don’t ever do that again,” he said quietly as he tried to push the image of you fainting out of his mind.
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You were running late to breakfast and the brothers had noticed that his had been a recurring thing with you lately.
The day before, you were late for breakfast because you overslept after staying up all night studying.
And then you were also late to dinner later that day after Solomon unexpectedly asked for your help with something.
And today you had sent them all a message letting them know you would be late to breakfast due to a shower mishap.
Asmo attempted to ask you to explain in further detail, but the others didn’t press the subject.
They knew that you would be a little late, but it was only a few minutes until everyone had to leave to make it to RAD on time.
Beel had been staring at your plate of food the entire time, doing his best to restrain himself. 
He knew that after missing both breakfast and dinner yesterday you would be hungry. But, if you weren’t going to eat it, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste.
After waiting a couple more minutes, Lucifer let out a small sigh before allowing Beel to eat your food.
Just then, you came bounding into the dining room with a look of shock on your face as you watched Beel gobble up your food in one bite.
“Hey, that was mine,” you said with a small pout and Beel looked like a deer in headlights as he sat your plate down.
“You were late,” Lucifer retorted before adding, “Time to go.”
You had a small frown the entire way to RAD and Beel felt guilty every time he heard your stomach rumble.
He was determined to make it up to you by getting you extra food at lunch.
But your hunger was starting to really get to you and by the second class you were starting to feel lightheaded.
You tried not to act any differently but you could feel Beel’s eyes on you during the class and it was only adding to the myriad of things you were feeling right now.
You felt overwhelmed by everything and as soon as the bell rang signally class was over, you stood up - only to fall right back down.
Beel managed to get to you just in time to catch you, but he started panicking when he saw that you were unconscious. 
He immediately lifted you off the ground and carried you to the school infirmary. 
The guilt he was feeling now was eating him alive. He knew that you had fainted because you were hungry.
If only he had a little more self-control and didn’t eat your food then maybe you wouldn’t have fainted.
When you woke up, you were immediately met with Beel’s concerned eyes.
“How are you feeling?” Beel asked you and you sat up slightly as you realized what had happened. 
“I’m fine,” you replied, though he suspected that wasn’t one hundred percent true.
You looked around the room and noticed Beel had bought a ton of snacks and drinks and laid them out on the bed next to you.
As soon as he deemed you were okay enough, he handed you snack after snack and apologized profusely for eating your food.
He would make sure you never fainted from hunger again. 
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You and Belphie shared such romantic moments sometimes.
Other times, he acted like such a brat.
It seemed like one of Belphie’s favorite things to do was to mess with you. Especially when he was feeling particularly testy.
Lucifer woke him up from his nap? I guess that means you wanted to pick a fight with him too so now he’s relentlessly trying to wrestle and tickle you.
Beel decided to eat his food that morning? Well, then you don’t get to eat either. But, you don’t mind, right?
And you would always retaliate which would end up leading to a war between you.
And both of you refused to back down.
In fact, sometimes it got to the point where the other brothers avoided the two of you, afraid of being collateral damage.
You wanted something to drink in the middle of the night, so you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed your favorite from the fridge.
You poured yourself a cup and sipped it quietly, immediately regretting it as you did so.
The taste was awful and you could hear Belphie’s snickering somewhere nearby.
You swallowed the drink and glared at the entrance to the kitchen as Belphie entered, holding his sides from laughing.
Why was he only awake at the most inconvenient times?
You decided to make Belphie pay for his actions.
“Belphie - did you put something in this?” you asked him, holding a hand to your stomach as if you were about to be sick.
“You should see your face right now,” he replied, continuing to laugh.
You placed one hand on your head and started fanning yourself with your other hand.
“Okay, but you made sure it was safe for humans, right?” you asked him and Belphie paused. You were just pulling his leg, right?
You took a few strained breaths before asking him, “Is it really hot in here?”
Belphie’s expression had turned from one of amusement to one of slight panic as he watched you, trying to figure out if you were lying or not.
He was positive what he put in your drink wouldn’t harm you, but he didn’t exactly look it up to check.
Belphie’s eyes were wide and he felt like he couldn’t breathe as you collapsed to the ground.
He was panicking as flashbacks of what once happened between the two of you overwhelmed his mind.
Did he just kill you? Again?
He felt like he was starting to have a panic attack as Beel suddenly entered the kitchen.
“Belphie?” he questioned, not expecting his twin to be there. He was just trying to get his midnight snack.
“Beel - I think I…,” Belphie stated, frozen in shock.
Beel’s eyes widened as he saw your body on the ground and he immediately rushed over to you, placing his fingers on your neck to check for a pulse just like Satan had taught him.
When you could feel Beel’s shaky hands, you knew the prank might have gone a little too far and you gently grabbed his wrist and opened your eyes.
Beel and Belphie looked at you confused for a moment and then Belphie realized what happened.
He gave you the biggest death glare and you noticed the tears that had started to form in his eyes.
“Belphie-,” you began but he stormed off to sulk in the attic. You followed him, only to find the door shut. 
“Belphie, come on let me in,” you told him. You could see him lying on the bed, turned away from you.
“I opened this door once before, I’ll do it again if I really have to,” you added.
Belphie let out a sigh of frustration before getting up and opening the door.
You immediately pulled him into a hug as he did, wrapping your arms around his torso and his arms timidly wrapped around you as well.
“I’m sorry,” you told him, genuinely feeling bad for taking things so far.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he stated, hugging you tighter before pulling you over to the bed with him.
Your punishment was to spend the night with him so that you were there whenever he needed some extra reassurance that you were okay.
Despite his pranks and brattiness, Belphie really loved you and he couldn’t imagine what he would do without you.
806 notes · View notes
serasheart · 4 months ago
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Dreams ✭ Choso Kamo
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Synopsis ღ on a windy night in Shibuya, you decide to stay over at a friends house. However, when you go to sleep, you’re met with a weird dream.
Warnings ღ smut, oral sex, male receiving female giving, vaginal sex, cream pie, porn with plot, somnophilia (kind of)
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶
"Thank you for letting me stay with you, Cho." You sigh as you fall back onto his couch, your eyes closing as your body relaxes into the soft leather.
"No worries, weather seems pretty bad, wouldn't want you to catch a cold." He states, tired figure slowly pouring the coffee into his signature mug before taking a sip.
"Yeah, that would suck." You laughed as your eyes open from their previous nothing, now staring at the man leaning on the kitchen counter.
He stares back at you in silence, your eyes meeting for what feels like an awkward amount of time before he tears his gaze from your own and clears his throat.
"I probably have a spare blanket somewhere in a storage closet." He mutters, straightening his posture as he begins to walk down his hallway, opening what seems to look like said storage closet before speaking up.
"Bingo." Reaching into the closet, he pulls out a fuzzy white blanket, a faint smile plastered across his face as he shows you proudly.
You chuckle a little at his childish demeanour before sitting up from the couch, he walks over towards his living room before passing you the blanket.
"Thanks." You speak, sitting the fuzzy fabric on your lap before looking over to the clock which read 11:32pm.
"Don't wanna keep you up, feel free to make yourself at home, I still have a few things I need to do before im off to bed anyways." He says, walking past you into a door that lead to the laundry room.
"Ill take you up on that offer." You replied, yawning a little and stretching as you did before laying down on the leather couch. it was comfortable and warm but your back would probably kill you in the morning with the way you were sleeping.
You spread the fuzzy blanket on you, kicking it over your figure to rest below your feet and ensure you're (for the most part) engulfed in the comfy warmth.
Choso gives you a hum in reply, nothing more, nothing less. You think nothing of it as your eyes begin to close and the stress of today sinks in, Immersing you into a deep, deep sleep.
You find yourself in what seems to be a dream, you rub your eyes and sit up a little before looking around. To your surprise, you’re in Choso’s apartment in the dream.
‘That’s weird.’
You thought to yourself before shaking your head, you try to get up before the sinking weight beside you catches your attention.
It’s only then that you realise you’re in a bed, Choso’s bed, to be exact. You’re quite surprised by this, your eyes widen as you stare down at the man who wore only a baggy white t shirt and boxers.
You tried not to think too much of it, because after-all, it was a dream. Nothing more than a dream, but curiosity took the best of you when you were lost in thought.
It’s almost as if for a second, you forget it’s a dream. Because you stare at him.
For a really long time, your eyes trail across his face and his features, his messy jett black hair clinging to his sweaty face as his plump, pale lips part ever so slightly.
‘Was he always this attractive?’
Something about his appearance to you was just… so enticing. As if it was welcoming you in, and your eyes ate up every last drop of it like it was candy.
The idea made you chew your lip a little, gaze narrowing as you continue to stare shamelessly before he rolled over, now facing you as his eyes remained closed.
You found a million thoughts running in your mind, the loudest voice telling you his lips looked so sof-
‘What the fuck?’ You violently shake your head, trying to rid yourself of such thoughts about a close friend, but still, you find your gaze lingering on his lips just a little longer.
Everything in you was telling you not to, that it would be weird, that you shouldn’t even have such thoughts about someone who had been so sweet to you, even in a dream!
But… you were curious. Very curious about what would happen if you were to try, afterall
It wouldn’t hurt, right?
That’s the only thing you managed to bring into thought before you pressed your soft lips onto his own, placing a heavy peck on the flesh before pulling back. Your face instantly reddens at the realisation.
‘Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod!’
You stare at him intently, the anxiety raising high in your chest as the guilt sinks into your stomach. You watch for any motion, any sign he’s awake. To your relief, nothing.
Your index comes up to graze your bottom lip ever so slightly, caressing the place in which once touched his own.
You don’t even know what came over you in the moment, one second you were staring at him and the next your lips were on his. Is something wrong with you? Why were you feeling this way?
Your ears perk up and bring you back into reality when you hear Choso groan, accompanied by a shuffle not too long after as he turns to lay flat on his back.
Freezing up, all you can do is stare down at him. Your heart beat is uncontrollably erratic, everything in your mind telling you you’ve just been caught, all for him to keep snoring away.
After a few moments pass by, your figure unfreezes. You don’t know what to do as you awkwardly and anxiously sit there, trying your hardest not to fumble around.
That’s before a wave of confidence rushes over you again.
All you can think about is how good his lips felt on yours; how you wanted to taste more of him.
It was stupid, and it was perverted. You leaned back in, anyways.
You embrace him in a kiss, lips pressing against eachother for just a few more seconds than they had before. It was a dream, afterall. Who cares if you got caught?
Bringing yourself back as your eyes hazily stared at his sleeping face, painted with something a little more than romance.
Faces just inches away from eachother before you went back in for more, the exchange more rough this time before an idea managed to pry itself into your head.
You lightly caress his face, just under his chin as you softly slip your tongue into his mouth. You pause for a moment, eyes opening as you stare down at him for a reaction just to be met with nothing.
You continue to slip past his lips and teeth, meeting his own tongue as your hand gently parts his jaw in order for you to gain more control.
A couple seconds go by as you continue your perverted act on the poor, sleeping man. Unbeknownst to him, you pull away a little, the only evidence of your departure being the string of saliva that connects you two.
Brought back from your daze, you sit up, trying to process what the fuck could’ve made you act that way to someone you thought of so closely. There was a little shame in your expression before you went to lay back down.
His bed was comfortable, a lot more comfortable than the couch, at-least. But I guess that’s a given. It was made for sleeping on.
Everything in this dream felt so unbelievably real, if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it would’ve been reality.
For the past few years, you always had a slight crush on Choso, but you never acted on it because you know he wouldn’t consider the possibility of a relationship. He found it hard to understand the concept of friendship alone.
Overtime, it was washed away with your messy love life and all the douchebags you dated. Choso never liked any of them, anyways.
You guess your feelings for him never truly ceased since in the moment you were unable to stop yourself from having your flesh on his. You can’t help but feel bad for doing that to the unconscious man, even if you know it was a dream, it was wrong.
You glance over at him, his eyes still shut softly as you sighed. You could only make the most of such a dream before you woke up.
You sit up a little, leaning in softly this time and pressing another kiss onto his lips. By this point, any anxiety you had felt about him waking up and seeing you do that was long past.
Staring down at his face, you search for his expression. He looked so peaceful sleeping, even if this, too, was only a dream.
You didn’t think much before you leaned in again, cupping the man’s face as you kiss him, more deeply this time.
The passionate kiss quickly turned to you craving his taste once more, the idea shamefully plastered in your head and getting more tempting by the second even though the guilt you felt had been overwhelming.
You ultimately decided fuck it, leaning in and slipping your tongue back into his mouth as you messily entangle it with his own, the gesture deep.
Saliva drips down from your mouth but you’re too far to care by this point, hands still caressing his face, just a little roughly this time.
Choso groans into your mouth, his eyes opening a little in the moment and your heart stops.
Your world dissipates, the breath catching in your lungs as his eyes manage to open fully before they widened, you could feel his heartbeat speed up at the situation before you pull away.
‘Just a Dream, just a Dream, just a Dream, just a Dream.’ You chanted to yourself, yet the feeling of being caught scared you half to death.
You quickly pulled away, wiping your mouth, but of course that’s not gonna save you the humiliation. You sit there, not saying anything as he just stares at you, quickly sitting up.
After a few seconds of silence goes by, you begin to speak, attempting to apologise.
“I’m sorry cho- Choso. I don’t know what I was doi-“ He swallows, hard. His eyes were elsewhere, the obvious tent in his boxers so painfully hard.
You pause for a second, everything was just so shocking to you as you try to process what’s going on. It was supposed to be innocent, and he wasn’t supposed to wake up. Even if this was a dream, you were scared as shit.
He clears his throat, his croaky, tired voice speaks up,
“I-… It’s fine, Y/N. You don’t have to explain yourself.” He says, almost breathlessly. He too, is still trying to process what just happened.
You seemed to have notice the tent in his boxers aswell, because your eyes were gazing the exact same way his were. He lifts his head a little, staring at you before his face reddens. He doesn’t know why; but he feels exposed like this.
“I-i’m really sorry, Choso. It wasn’t supposed to-“ He grunts, the sound of his name slipping past your lips after he caught you doing such a dirty thing whilst he was sleeping made him shake a little.
He coughs. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I’ll go deal with this and we can pretend like it didn’t happen.” He states firmly, he goes to sit up before you grab his wrist.
“Wait!”
“I can help you..?”
He stares down at you, a shocked expression on his face before the flush from before quickly spreads itself upon his pale complexion.
Unfortunately, the suggestion only went straight to his dick. It throbs against the thin fabric in response, his heart was racing so fast.
He shakes his head a little, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He tries to speak up, his voice cracking a little:
“N-no. Wouldn’t that be… weird?”
You shake your head, eyes coming to meet his own as he stares down at you with such a lust stricken gaze. He was scared of being informal, scared of being more.
He hesitantly agrees, sitting back down on the bed before he stares at you in anticipation. You guys sit there for a minute before you clear your throat
“I could… use my mouth?” You suggest, innocently to the poor man whose heart was beating so fast he thought he might have a heart attack.
“I- uhm. Okay.” Is all he manages to get out, his deep voice echoes in your ears as you manage to finally get a reply out of him.
“Okay.” You smile, a little bit more eased into the situation as you stared up at him, his eyes meeting yours.
Even though this supposedly wasn’t reality and was just a dream, his reactions seemed very like Choso.
“Just relax, it’s gonna feel good more than it’s gonna hurt.” You say to the innocent man, your fingers lacing with the hem of his boxers before pulling them down slowly.
Choso grunts a little as the cold air brushed along his now exposed length. You took a moment to soak the details in, biting your lip a little.
He was uncircumcised, trimmed pretty cleanly but unkempt in a way, very girthy and had a lot of prominent veins, also while maintaining a good length.
It was pale, just as his skin, but the tip was a light pink.
You don’t know why, but the only thing you thought of in the moment was if this was how Choso actually looked.
He stared down at you, looking for any type of reaction. He was starting to feel insecure under your gaze before you giggled.
“You’re so pretty, Cho.” The nickname rolled off your tongue effortlessly, not helping his case as you watched his member throb at the words. He groans a little in reply.
You stare up at him, glassy eyes stared back at you, such vulnerability entrusted in your hands. How could you not help a friend?
A hand comes to wrap around him softly, but firm. He flinches in reply, letting out a harsh breath. You divert your attention from his face to his member, slowly beginning to move your hand rhythmically as you keep a steady pace.
This action rewards you with little whimpers, Choso’s eyes on your hands touching him so sweetly. He bit his lip so hard it began to bleed. Choso’s chest was heaving, trying to steady his breathing as his heart beat so fast.
You continued to stroke his girth, rubbing the veins attentively with your thumb occasionally which caused him to slip a sound. The sensation felt way better than his own hands, and he couldn’t help but whine.
His eyes squeezed shut, the pleasure of your soft, small hands being wrapped around his dick made him almost burst at the thought alone.
That was until he felt something warm wrap around him, his closed eyes abruptly shot open as a loud gasp erupted from him, followed by a moan as you lightly swirled your tongue around his dick.
It was likely Choso hadn’t had sex, let alone a blowjob. He only had recently started living as a human, so this was probably how you thought he would react.
You sink your mouth down on him further, your palm wrapped firmly at his base as you pull back, kissing his tip before going back down and taking as much of him you could possibly fit in your mouth.
You swirled your tongue, bobbing your head as you stroked the parts you couldn’t fit in your mouth. Your tongue lightly rubbing against a vein on his girth, causing him to moan loudly.
Choso’s eyes were back to being shut, but his left hand went to quickly grab hold of your hair, entangling his fingers in the strands as his right hand gripped the sheet.
The sensation of your tongue gliding along his cock is enough to send him into a spiral, he tries hard not to squirm under your touch but it’s hard with what you’re doing to him.
All he can do is feel the hot, wet saliva of your mouth drip down his dick, while your tongue is consistently prodding and touching all the right spots. It doesn’t help the fact your small hand is rubbing up against the parts you can’t fit.
It doesn’t take long before Choso feels himself drawing closer to the edge, the knot in his stomach threatening to snap into your mouth as his lip has been chewed raw by this point.
Tears well up in the poor man’s eyes, the pleasure being too much for him to handle. He never knew that it could feel this good, in fact, until a while ago he didn’t even know he could ejaculate.
His grip on your hair tightens, his vision begins to get blurry as all he can do is babble moans, the whimpers flowing out of his mouth as if he had been doing this for years.
Without warning, the tall man is coming undone in your mouth. White stringy semen spurts down your throat as he pushes your head down further, almost fully engulfing himself in the warmth of your mouth.
White paints his vision, his head is nauseous and his legs are shaking as his balls tighten, the addicting feeling of orgasm washing over him as he shoots load after load in big waves, not stopping for a second until he was done.
The sounds of his pleasure didn’t do anything but go straight to your core, shamelessly.
When he realises what he did, guilt and regret contorts his face. He instantly pulls you off of his length as you’re coughing, choking on the thick liquid he just released.
He slaps your back hard before you finally come down from your coughing fit, swallowing what you could.
“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, it just felt really goo-“
When he looks down at you, breath heavy from his orgasm and fit of apologies, he pauses and he evidently stiffens.
You’re confused for a second before you go to wipe your mouth, noticing a little bit of cum had leaked down from your mouth when you were probably coughing.
You look back at him, staring at eachother in silence before he swallows. He could feel the blood rush straight to his dick as his face flushes once more.
Both your hearts are beating fast, the silence is so thick it could be cut with a knife. The air smelled like sex, the tension was bad.
“Um… im sorry. I didn’t mean to…” his voice cracks and croaks, he tried to keep a steady tone but he couldn’t help it. He was so embarrassed at how fast he came, and he was embarrassed he was hard again.
“Don’t be, it’s… not a big deal.” You smile at him awkwardly, as you both sit there.
Your gaze lowers again, still a little taken aback at the fact he was hard once more. Before meeting his eyes
“I can help you again; but you have to promise to be good, okay? Don’t do anything, just relax.” You were speaking on the moment, it’s not like this wasn’t a dream or something.
Choso almost instantly nodded, his mind stopped listening at ‘help you again’
You began to undress, pulling your shirt over your head and kicking your pants off, quickly disposing of them. You’re in just your bra and panties now.
Choso just stared, shamelessly at this point, At your boobs. He ogled them, his face was as red as a cherry.
He took a second to take in your figure, the way your body curved and the way your skin looked so nice, the big plump balls of fat that rest on your chest especially catching his eye.
You never decided it was anything deeper than thought, but you always thought that Choso would be a boob guy.
Your fingertips grab at the hem of your panties, pulling them down to fully expose your cunt in which is seeping slick.
Choso just stares, you notice his breath speeding up as he gets more giddy, probably out of nervousness.
Before he can say anything, you hook a leg over his side while your other one rest the opposite, straddling him.
You lean in, pulling him into a kiss that quickly turns hungry. You’re pushing your tongue past his lips greedily as your tongues fight for dominance, ultimately exploring his mouth.
One of your arms that were previously wrapped around his neck goes down to grab at his cock before lightly teasing it, rubbing against your folds.
Choso whines into your mouth in reply, his hips involuntarily bucking up causing you to gasp. His hands come down to grab at your ass, gripping tightly as he forces you down onto his dick.
You moan into the kiss, the sudden intrusion of your walls causing you to clench harshly around him.
Choso whimpers in response, instinctively thrusting up into you, his tip kissing your cervix so easily with how his length fits inside, you grind down against him.
You pull away from the kiss, your tongue leaving his as a thick strand of saliva connects you two, you stare at him intently before you bite your lip, Choso watches you as you bring yourself up then slam down.
He moans as you begin to ride him, the position you’re in making it easy for him to control when you go down. His strong arms easily lift you up and slam you onto his dick, each time you can feel his girth slam against your poor cervix.
Your vision is hazy, you moan along with him as he continues to control the pace and rhythm, using you as you leak so shamelessly onto him.
“F-fuck, Y/N!” He moans, his eyes are shut. You’re taken aback a bit, definitely not enough to override the pleasure but you’re shocked at the sudden swear considering you’ve never heard him swear.
Your legs are weak and shaking. you shuffle a little, only for him to thrust up into you as he slams you down onto him once more.
He comes up to cup your breasts through your bra as you continue to grind down on his dick, he looks up at you, his eyes almost pleading before you nod, moaning.
He almost tears it off of you, his palms hungrily fondling your tits as your eyes roll back, the feeling of him thrusting up into you as he fondles with your boobs going straight down to your core. Your legs are getting so tired.
You’re out of breath by this point, the moans slipping past your lips so effortlessly as you ride his thick cock, the delicious stretch of your walls squelching with each thrust.
The room smells of thick sex, the only thing besides moans and slapping of skin that can be heard is the rumbling winds outside.
Choso drops his hands from your boobs, resting them firmly on your hips before positioning you into an easier accessible position.
Without warning, he thrusts up into you. It’s at that moment a pleasurable sensation washes over you, your stomach tightening hard. You moan loudly, Choso continues his motion as he realises what he found. He begins abusing your g-spot, your cunt instantly tightening around him as he rams into it.
Harsh thrusts cloud your mind, the pleasure washes over you like nothing has before, the fact that this was a dream being long forgotten by now; if this was a dream, you didn’t want it to end.
Everything felt good in the moment, the knot in your stomach only built up and up, threatening to snap at any second in given time. It begins to tighten, and tighten.
Choso leans in, wrapping his mouth against your sensitive tit, swirling his tongue around as his left hand goes down to rub at your clit in a circular motion, urging you to cum.
You moan loudly, hot pleasure painting your vision as your mind clouds up. Before you know it, you’re cumming hard on his thick cock, not long after he trails you, cumming inside you as the thick white liquid spurts in loads into you.
“I’m sorry!” He moans
The pleasure of your orgasm is enough to wear you down, you take a while to come down from it as your legs shake violently, you can feel Choso under you, moaning loudly as he releases inside.
Your body is so tense as you come back to reality, when you finally manage to shake it, you get off of him, laying down next to him as your chest heaves, feeling his seed trickle down your legs from your pussy.
After everything that happened, the only thing you wonder is why you haven’t woken up from your dream yet. It’s been so long.
You shake your head, trying everything to wake up. But you can’t.
That’s until he says something that makes it register.
“Also… uhm, Im sorry I moved you into my bed, you looked uncomfortable on the couch.”
344 notes · View notes
reystenius-01 · 9 months ago
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Sweet and Sour
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Summary: Alexia comes home from that game to a sick reader. Comfort and fluff ensues.
(okay theres a bit of angst as well, i couldn't help myself, im sorry 😭)
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Alexia didn’t know whether to cry, to yell, or to hurl a water bottle against the nearest surface. They had lost. Barça had lost. Their first defeat of the season could not have come at a more dangerous time, in the first leg of the Champions League Semi-Final. 
It was their first home defeat in five years, as well.
And to add salt to the wound, you weren’t around. You weren’t at the game today. You were at home, incredibly ill to the point where looking at a screen hurt your brain. You weren’t there for Alexia to cling onto, to reassure her that everything would come up blaugrana at the end of the day.
At least, though, you were at home, getting better for the second leg. You’d save them, Alexia told herself, as she applauded the fans for coming and attending. The fans deserved better than whatever the hell that performance was out there.
God, it kept replaying in her head. That miss. That fucking miss.
She could’ve levelled it, put her team on some somewhat stable ground for the away leg at Stamford Bridge. A part of her shattered when that ball went wide, it took majority of her willpower to get right back up afterwards. 
The little head-slaps she usually gave Vicky were lighter now, only just. As much as Alexia would love to give Jona a piece of her mind (she’d do that tomorrow at the latest), you were waiting for her at home. 
The mere thought nearly brought her to her knees. 
Though she knew that you would understand, that you would be the usual radiating beam of positivity that you always were despite feeling like you got hit by a truck, a part of her feared that you’d be disappointed, not just of the team, but of her.
Alexia was brought out of her thoughts as Jona walked into the locker room. The usual post-match speeches were given, but a chunk of Alexia’s brain was just all mush after that game. It was mostly a blur, and she could hardly remember what she had said in her own speech. Thankfully, she didn’t need to do media. The last thing she needed right now, especially in her current headspace, was for some reporters trying to bait her into making a scathing comment.
She wanted to go home to you. And at the same time, she didn’t.
The team bus was mostly silent on the way back to the training ground, a few of the girls conversing in hushed tones, some faint music coming from the back of the bus. Alexia hadn’t texted you yet. You needed the sleep, so you could get better and get back to the team.
Salma’s head was on her shoulder, the girl having fallen asleep a few minutes into the bus ride. Alexia’s heart went out to the girl, and she had encouraged her to keep her head up. 
The minutes went by like a blur, and before Alexia knew it, they were back at the training ground. The radio played faintly in her car as she drove back to your shared home, making a quick stop at the pharmacy to pick up your antibiotics, since the pharmacist had called her to let her know that your required dose for tonight was ready.
The first thing Alexia noticed when she got home was the smell of soup. You must’ve made some boxed instant soup or something, her thoughts confirmed when she saw the box and the seasoning packets. There was still some soup left in the pot on the stove. Well, there was dinner sorted.
She set the bag from the pharmacy down on the kitchen counter before heading upstairs to check on you. She quietly entered the bedroom, and saw you curled up in bed, your breathing steady and peaceful. She smiled softly, grateful to see you resting. You could be a little stubborn at times.
Carefully, she approached the bed and sat down beside you, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face, also gently holding her hand against your forehead to check on your fever. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad anymore.
“Hey, amor,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “I’m home.”
You stirred slightly, blinking sleepily as you looked up at her. “Hey, pretty girl,” you murmured, clearing your throat and sitting up a bit so you could lean against the headboard. “How are you? How was the game?”
Alexia hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. She didn't want to disappoint you with the loss, especially when you were just starting to feel better.
“It was... challenging,” she said finally, hating how small she sounded. “But you know how it is. Win some, lose some.”
Your brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in your eyes. You knew your girlfriend the same way you knew how to breathe. There was no way she’d ever use the words ‘win some, lose some’ to describe a game, especially a Champions League semi-final, at home no less. 
​​You studied her for a moment, your eyes searching her face. “Lex, what's wrong?” you asked gently, sensing her reluctance to talk about it.
Alexia hesitated, her heart heavy with the weight of her missed chance, chewing a little on the inside of her cheek. “I... I had a chance to level the score,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I missed.”
Your heart broke then and there, not because of the loss at all. Your girlfriend, the Alexia Putellas and the two-time Ballon D’or winner looked so… small in front of you. Your expression softened with understanding, and you reached out to take her hand in yours. “Hey, it's okay,” you said soothingly, your voice filled with reassurance. “That’s football, love.”
Alexia noticed you shift closer to her a bit, your thumb stroking the back of her hand gently. You were keeping your distance a bit, not wanting to get your girlfriend sick, even more so now.
“But it was such an important game,” Alexia said, her voice trembling with emotion. “And I let everyone down.”
You shook your head, gently squeezing her hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Lex. You gave it your all out there, and that's all anyone can ask for. We win and lose as a team,” Alexia wasn’t looking at you, but you were looking at her, studying her. You could see her biting her bottom lip to keep herself from crying in front of you. “Mi vida, mírame.”
Alexia nibbled on her lip some more, before shaking her head. Your hand left hers, reaching up to gently hold her chin and encourage her to look at you. “Ale, mi niña bonita. Please look at me.”
She let you turn her face to face yours, and your thumb immediately reaching up to wipe away the tears that were escaping the corners of those gorgeous hazel eyes.
Your heart ached for her. She looked so vulnerable in that moment, and it pained you to see her so torn up over the match. “Alexia, listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle as you wiped away her tears, albeit a little croaky as well. “You are so much more than just one missed chance. You are strong, talented, and resilient. And no matter what happens on the field, I am always going to be proud of you.”
Alexia's breath caught in her throat as she looked into your eyes, seeing nothing but love and admiration reflected back at her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
“Don't apologise, amor,” you said softly, shaking your head. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Alexia shook her head, a shaky sigh escaping her lips. “I just... I hate feeling like I disappointed the team, the fans… and you.”
You reached out, cupping her cheek gently in your hand. “You didn't let anyone down, Ale,” you insisted, completely sure of what you were saying. “You're an incredible player and an amazing captain. And I couldn't be prouder of you–”
You doubled over, turning your head away to cough into your arm, your other hand patting your chest. 
“Amor,” Alexia all but jumped to your side, hand rubbing your back despite you trying to keep her at a distance so that she didn’t get sick.
“I’m…” Another stream of coughs escaped you, and Alexia pulled away briefly to pour you a glass of water. “I’m fine, Ale, thank you.”
You accepted the glass, taking a few sips to soothe the irritation you felt in your throat, massaging it gently. “Maybe you should take some medicine,” she suggested, worry evident for your health.
“After this,” you set the glass on the bedside table, grabbing Alexia’s hands again and getting her to sit beside you. “It's okay to feel disappointed, Lex, but don't let one moment define you. You are capable of so much more than you realise, and I know you know that.”
Tears continued to stream down Alexia's cheeks, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I just want to make you proud,” she admitted, her voice slightly above a whisper, sounding more like herself now.
“Oh, bebita,” you murmured, your voice soft just like your smile as you bunched up your sleeve, wiping at Alexia’s cheeks. “You already make me proud every single day.”
Alexia sniffled, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Even when I miss crucial chances in important games?”
“Even then,” you replied without hesitation, your gaze locked with hers. “Because you give your all out there, and you never give up. You always fight, and fight to make up for it.”
“You always know just what to say,” she whispered, a soft sigh escaping her as she looked at you.
“What can I say? I’m just so wise,” you replied, pulling a face, making Alexia chuckle and lightly shove your shoulder. “Hey, no bullying the weak and feeble!”
“You aren’t f-fuh–?” Alexia tried to copy your pronunciation, and with each attempt, your smile grew. “Amor!”
“What?” 
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Just…” Alexia put her hands on your shoulders. “You’re not weak.”
“I know, mi amor, I know. You aren’t either,” you put one of your hands on top of one of hers, gently caressing her knuckles. “We’re still in it. We’ve been here before, no?” You looked at her knowingly, yet so softly and so full of love.
“Mhm,” she hummed, her smile getting bigger.
“We just need a bit of faith and trust. No matter what happens, win or lose, you’re one of the most amazing people in my life,” you reached out to run your hand through Alexia’s hair, still a bit damp from her post-match shower. “Want me to brush your hair?”
“I want you… to take your medicine,” Alexia said with a smile, and you groaned.
“Is it the tablets?”
Alexia pursed her lips as she stood up, stifling a smile as she held out her hands for you to help yourself up out of bed.
“Amor,” you whined, kicking your feet a little like a child being denied ice cream from a street vendor.
“Come on, my tough and pretty and sexy girl,” Alexia wiggled her fingers. “You can handle a few pills, lovely.”
“I told you that a few months ago, and you banished me to an air mattress on the floor because you didn’t want me catching whatever bug you had,” You held onto her hands, standing up. Alexia’s large hands patted your waist a little before holding you gently. It was an adorable habit of hers. “And then, you proceeded to beg for me to come to bed with you just because you couldn’t stand being apart from me for the night.”
“Come, come,” Alexia had a smile on her face as you went on your little rant, leading you down the stairs to your inevitable fate of having to ingest some pills. You hated the feeling of pills in your throat, even when you took them with water. “Don’t be stubborn.”
“Alexia, don’t be mean to me, I am ill,” you stopped at the bottom step, Alexia looking up at you slightly, tilting her head and smiling at the sight of you pouting.
 You grumbled when she wrapped her arms around your waist and picked you up into her arms, begrudgingly wrapping your legs around her waist to hold onto her as she carried you into the kitchen, “Be careful, you played a rough half of football.”
Alexia glanced at you, brow furrowed. You weren’t supposed to be on your phone or any technology for that matter.
“Mapi called,” you smiled innocently, fingers scratching her scalp, the midfielder closing her eyes at the feeling briefly. “It’s been a while since she used short sentences.” Alexia winced. “Too soon, yep, sorry.”
“The doctor said you need to have three tablets–” Alexia braced herself for the mush of words that were about to come out of your mouth.
“Amor!”
-----
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stuffyflowers · 6 months ago
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finally refined my amalgamate kanako take a little bit. was gonna annotate my thoughts on the image but i hate making compositions lol, so ill just talk below the cut in a semi-ramble. enjoy!
she is fused with a few other dunes monsters. when she woke up in the lab without her mother, i feel like she wouldve latched onto the most familiar looking monsters for some semblance of comfort and spent the most time with them before... everything went wrong. if you haven't guessed already, they are:
a dunebud (eyes)
a cactus monster (back spikes)
a monster of the same species as bryan (guy you give the hard hat to in the mines) (general long body, arms, slug-like tail)
(i would like to give each of them more defined individual personalities/names/etc at some point too, but i havent settled on anything yet. stay tuned for that if you want i guess)
much like how crystal (snowdrakes mum) seems to be the 'main' host in her amalgamate, kanako has the most control in this amalgamate (probably something to do with her having a stronger soul than most monsters). when this is the case, the left side of the face is visible and the left ear perks up. when one (or several) of the other monsters are fronting, this occurs for the right side instead.
for anyone who didnt know, the uty devs confirmed they intended for kanako to be the spoon amalgamate who tucks frisk in, which my take on her is inspired by. when she starts to lose memories of her old self as all the amalgamates do, she holds onto the faint memory of ceroba tucking her into bed. one of her daily routines in the lab is neatly making every bed until one of the others makes a mess of it, then rinse and repeat. again and again.
like how frisk helps the other amalgamates remember their old lives through acts, they help kanako remember her mother more clearly when they hop onto the bed, hence why she fondly pats their head as she can now remember ceroba doing after tucking her in every night.
the unfortunate side effect of her regaining a large chunk of her memory is that her guilt over 'failing' the experiment resurfaces, and she convinces herself that her mother wouldnt want to see her, even if they were ever allowed to go free. she ends up being the last amalgamate alphys reunites with their families, it takes a lot of convincing from her as well as the other parts of kanako that want to see their families to get her to leave the lab.
to keep it short, kanako and cerobas bond after the barrier breaks starts off a little rocky. ceroba is of course overjoyed kanako is alive, though it does take her a long while to get used to her being made up of three other monsters. they both still have feelings of immense guilt towards each other due to the incident that got them in this situation to begin with, which also takes a long time to smooth out. regardless, they are both doing their best to move forward and make the most of the second chances theyve both been given.
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recycledraccoon · 8 months ago
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Quick! I'm from the future!! I need your inkblade headcanons or scenarios or the universe will implode!
Ok ok, I can do this. I can answer this ask without going out of control. I can be normal about this, I can.
I don't have very many hardset headcanons, but more vibes that rise and fall like the tide. Oisin's fins/head-crest flare out ramrod straight and the spines turn as purple as his face if he's blushing hard enough. I will die on this hill. Oisin's non-verbal emotions are actually really easy to pick up on if he's too distracted to keep them tightly in control. A thick dragonborn tail lashing back and forth like an outlet for Emotions That Are Too Big can be really inconvenient in a highschool hallway. The rise and fall of his fins/head-crest are MUCH harder to hide however. Oisin also smells perpetually of petrichor, and it drives Adaine insane.
1. I think Oisin's crush started softly, and with indescribable longing, probably before he ever knew who she was. Freshman year, a Thursday Intro To Glyphs class. He doesn't know or talk to her at all, just a face in a class he has that he barely notices. So he's not falling for her quite yet.
I think he first fell in love in the way one does when you see a stranger sitting across from you on the public bus or train. The sunlight hit her hair and he couldn't take his eyes off suddenly. Maybe he saw her smiling and laughing with her friends, maybe she was rolling her eyes at them with her nose scrunched up just a little in faint judgement, maybe he can't even remember because while walking past in the hallway he had been so dumb-struck for a second he walked face first into an open locker door to Ivy's absolute confusion. (She does laugh at him mercilessly, even if he won't say why he walked into it.)
It's a moment of "I don't know you, you don't know me, but for one unfathomably long moment I wanted nothing more than to imagine a life lived that included basking near you and your smile every day until I die."
Unrealistic right? Just a passing stranger, this isn't a love story, it's an average Tuesday and Oisin has homework and an appointment with his party in the forest after school.
He gathers his bearings and moves on, and if his mind wanders back to the girl in the hall who had captivated him to lethal effect? Well it's a pleasant memory for him and he thinks that's allowed, right?
Except she's in his Glyph class two days later, he realizes, and suddenly that hallway moment of longing rushes back until his entire face is purple and he's trying not to stare at the occasionally stuttering but brilliant wizard girl two rows ahead in class.
1a. I think Oisin continued to take Glyph classes at first because he hoped she would too. Adaine doesn't, but Oisin continues because he is good at them and enjoys it and it's certainly easier to learn when he's not distracted in class 70% of the time.
2. As Oisin gets older, more and more of his dragonic nature becomes apparent. It's like a second puberty happening concurrently with normal puberty, which means it's a rollercoaster nightmare for him and the High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders.
2a. Dragons have hoards, but not all dragons hoard the same things, even within their own subclasses. Still, Oisin has quite a few gems and jewels in his fledgling hoard, despite not knowing what he most wants to hoard, and if his favorite gem just so happens to be one that reminds him of the shade of blue in a particular elven girl's eyes then-
2b. Oisin also has a deep fondness for rain and storms. He always knows if it's incoming even if it's not in the forecast. Something primal in him connects to the raging skies, for good or ill. It makes him feel confident and powerful. He also considers it very romantic. Unfortunately, Adaine gets so cross with him anytime she hears him predict a storm coming, even if he's talking to literally anyone else. (Adaine thinks Oisin is a storm himself, and if she is not careful she will be like the last Oracle and have forgotten to stock up on water breathing spells and drown in him amidst the storm of his being.)
2c. Dragons also hold great respect for power and prowess. Physical fights for hierarchy, play, or even courtship are very normal. For all that they are sentient brilliant beings, Dragons are still wild, untameable, primal things. This lurks underneath all of them, good or evil. Some are just more adept at hiding it. For courtship, this comes into play as sizing the other up. Both sides are looking to find out whether or not the other has any worth as a long term partner who would need to help guard the nest. Protecting eggs and hoards from greedy adventurers is serious business. There are reasons there aren't many truly ancient dragons. Too large a discrepancy in strength can sometimes be a turn off for the stronger one, so the most successful courtships are usually of similarly strong dragons, or at least, ones that put up enough of a fight despite the gap.
c1. Oisin, seeing the great accomplishments and prowess of Adaine Abernant over the course of Freshman year, feels a deep stirring even before he's rage-starred. He wants to fight her so badly, to sling magic and bloody teeth until the raging beast inside is sated. Naturally this scares him at first, and Oisin REFUSES to seek Adaine out to talk because of it, because the teen boy part of himself wants something kind, soft and tender between them, while the dragon making itself known as he ages wants to prove itself strong to her.
Later, he will tell himself this urge was ENTIRELY because he'd been on the path towards being contaminated-then-consumed with rage and wanted the Bad Kids dead. Absolutely not because it's the first step in traditional dragon courtship. He just wants to prove himself to her. He wants to feel for himself the confirmation of her renowned battle prowess. This is all for purely rival-related reasons, he tells himself. He is, perhaps, a bit of a liar.
3. Adaine's crush, not just her thinking he's cute but her actual legitimate crush on him, actually starts when the Rat Grinders are being redeemed post-Junior Year.
Like, she hates his GUTS. He made her feel belittled and stupid during Junior year, and yes they kicked his and his friends asses, but also now they just have to deal with them still being around. (Yes this is how they made friends with Ragh too, but they're petty.)
Except...so now they have to spend time together, maybe in classes maybe because Lucy loves her friends despite everything but is also now a friend of The Bad Kids. The former Rat Grinders are CLEARLY trying so hard to be better and kinder, but still the parties are mingling and there is tension but its also so fucking funny.
So Adaine and Oisin's interactions is just a montage of them being assholes to each other. Oisin can be polite and respectable, funny even, with everyone BUT Adaine apparently. Bickering about wizard things, taunting cutting words, and Adaine repeatedly trying to punch his smug face whenever he gets too close while gloating if he's right about something.
3a. Adaine literally tells Aelwyn that while she wants and needs kindness, she does acknowledge that it's messed up that she wishes someone was a little mean to her sometimes. This rivalry with Oisin is NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!!!!!! (the monkey paw curls)
3b. The worst part, is no matter how much Adaine hates Oisin, is that it doesn't stop him from being attractive. Oh sure, she thinks he's an absolute asshole when he's sitting across from her in the library, but......
He's still absurdly tall, with large arms that are for more than just show. The conjuration tattoos are both practical and very pleasing to the eye, the almost electric blue of them a pleasing contrast to the softer blue shade of his scales.
The contradiction of those large round spectacles resting on his snout makes him look just dorky enough to go from being just another buff guy to being....well. Unfortunately, the glasses also do nothing to shield Adaine from the weight of his gaze.
When he looks at her with his full attention, behind those glasses are eyes of molten gold, and trained solely on her that gaze feels searing hot wherever it lands.
3c. Or perhaps, the worst part is she despises how he laughs. Sometimes, when she says something as clever as it is cutting, Oisin throws his head back just a little to laugh, bright and warm, all while his throat rumbles. It must be something draconic in nature, like a strong purr or distant rain clouds. It's much harder to get him to make that particular sound when he laughs, and the rumble feels unfairly like victory. Like she cracked the careful fascade he puts up to pretend like he's not a dragon.
The rumble also feels particularly reminiscent of butterflies in her stomach. (She elects to ignore this part.)
4. Oisin is a dragon, and he is a little obsessed with Adaine even if he doesn't dare to dream of going on an actual date with her after everything from the previous year. He cannot imagine a world where she would ever again believe him to be genuine in affection or intention towards romantic feelings. No instance of genuine fluster could ever be seen as anything but a clever ruse, he tells himself, he certainly wouldn't believe it if it was him.
But he's got her attention now, and he is possessive of that, of what he CAN get. Even if she hates his guts and pointblank threatens to kill him if he steps out of line-
Even if it's because she hates him, Oisin still has her eyes on him. Eyes like clear skies before the rolling storm, like they can pierce through everything he is and will ever be and know the truth of it.
Every conversation is like a battle, a verbal sparring that he TELLS himself is nothing at all like the courtship fights, but oh how sweet does it sound to his inner dragon. She could be cussing him out and he could feel like his heart would burst from his chest from the affection he feels, even as he riles her up further, until she slips into saccharine elven curses that he can practically taste on his forked tongue.
4a. Once he tosses back a clever jape in draconic at her. When she immediately starts in on him with the gutteral words of his native tongue, perfectly fluent but lilted ever so slightly like a refined melody, his tail accidentally knocks over a chair and his crest flares so strongly that he KNOWS his face must be more purple than a ripe plum. He's lost a battle and her laughter at the way he flees claiming he forgot something haunts him for days. He tries to get revenge by whispering things under his breath at her in Elvish, and her glare is divine, but it's so risky because she might just start talking to him draconic again and Oisin fears he could live a thousand years and still not be able to handle the sound of it when it falls from her lips.
a1. It's a lost cause. Adaine has a weakness now, and she wields it with all the precision she's developed on a battlefield. It's the cutest surest way to put him in his place, rile him up with the same burning fire that he seems so expert in stirring up in her. Oh he might try to argue back in draconic, or even throw a taunt out in Elvish, but he always stalks off first. (He makes the refined, posh but ancient language of Elvish sound like something Tracker would appreciate. He makes it sound ever so slightly wild, like something else is lurking behind all the refinery. Adaine is well practiced in steadying her breathing, and Oisin always cracks first.)
5. Everyone has seen these two bicker back and forth, and everyone knows trying to get them to stop or get between them means the two turn as a united front against whoever interrupted, and that's honestly worse.
5a. The Bad Kids and High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders have an ongoing bet amongst themselves on on if the two will snap and legitimately murder each other, or snap and start making out in the library. It's honestly way too elaborate of a betting system with odds changing all the time, but it is actually probably the most fun, non-tense bonding the two groups have together. They have also gone to GREAT LENGTHS to keep it secret from the two wizards, especially when one of them is the fucking ORACLE.
6. It's not all bickering and scathing words. Sometimes, when nobody else is around to see behind this precarious curtain...its soft and tender too.
6a. Sometimes, when Adaine is genuinely having a bad day and feels one wrong moment from truly snapping, she feels the magic of a conjured summon passing by whatever table or nook she stowed herself away to hide in. The smell of arcane-tinted petrichor lingers afterwards, and settled nearby is a warm drink that hadn't been there before. Sometimes its tea's she's fond of, sometimes a warm peppermint mocha from her favorite coffee place downtown. Against her better judgement, she is increasingly fond of the smell of rain. 6b. Sometimes, the rage feels like it never left Oisin's body. It burns him inside and out, and he's so exhausted fighting back these aftershocks. He is trying every day to make up for what he's done, but the feeling of unbridled rage haunts him. To indulge is to fail, fall off the wagon, and he will not falter, even if he squeezes his hands so tightly they bleed beneath his claws. A message cantrip blooms to life in his mind. Melodic, lilted draconic, giving not words of comfort, but familiar unafraid taunts. It's a challenge, he knows it, and somehow that makes it easier, rage giving way to fondness and the desire to prove himself. 6c. There are more late nights in libraries and sitting close at tables in out of the way restaurants working on difficult projects then either would ever let anyone know, not that they let anyone know of them at all. It's quiet honest conversations over dusty tomes and scattered papers. (They couldn't know how to make the most cutting of remarks if they knew nothing about each other, after all.) a1. Its Oisin, laying his head down in his arms over the library table, eyes watching her sitting next to him with hair falling in her face like it always does when shes bent forward focusing intently on her work. There are many, many times when Oisin does nothing but watch in silence. Sometimes, rarely, when its late and nobody will come by except to kick them out- He reaches a claw to gingerly tuck the silken gold hair behind the bright red ear of a girl who doesn't say anything about it, before he looks away entirely, trying to ignore the way he can feel his crest fluttering up and down as it seemingly contemplates flaring out.
a2. It's Adaine, rolling her eyes with no heat, as she steps into his personal space and is enveloped in the smell of petrichor. Calloused fingers lingering on rough scales as she ever so gently corrects a stance or spell casting motion that the unfairly tall dragonborn boy next to her had been working on perfecting.
The both know she doesn't have to be so close for this, that another demonstration from beside him would work just fine. He doesn't have to bend ever so slightly, dip his long draconian neck down so he can better hear her murmured words either, so close they can feel the heat of the others breath. He casts the spell perfectly, and Adaine steps back out to a respectable distance, and neither of them say anything about it.
7. Neither of them ever mention any of it. It feels taboo, like the triggering of a spell that will destroy both of them. The fighting, the bickering, the cutting words and sharp swords aimed at jugulars? That's easy, that's familiar and safe. It's what's supposed to happen between them, safe territory they can walk with eyes closed. It's the tenderness that's hard. It's the yearning and soft touches aborted at the last moment-
This is what would be their ruin, and the threat of it lingers above them, rolling clouds heavy with rain that just wont fall. Days, weeks, months pass by and they do not mention it.
8. Adaine, flush with Oracle-sure certainty, gestures for Oisin to slow down, to bend down low so she can tell him something. He protests, its about to rain any second and really Abernant, they're going to be late- Adaine kisses Oisin first, soft and sure as her hands cradle his scaled jaw, just as the dark clouds above them break open.
The kiss tastes like rain, and the loud, pleased rumble in her ears certainly isn't from the storm coming down on them.
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primarinite · 9 months ago
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just realized i never posted my rescue team character redesigns oops
ninetales: shiloh (they/them)
-reworked to be a snowdrift (alolan) ninetales because it makes more sense with the climate they live in and spike chunsoft are COWARDS for not including the regional variants of pokemon in gens 1-3 that got one.
-actually only has 8 tails (lost one in the havoc encounter).
-@ all of the ties that bind heads out there: does their design remind you of anyone in particular? :3c
gengar: havoc (he/him)
-his real (human) name was alphard. he discarded this name and adopted havoc instead after his transformation, as he was hoping that it would make others want to avoid him entirely, as he felt like he didn't deserve any kindness or decency after what he had done. unfortunately for him, medicham and adder (ekans) are stupid and like him. he starts using alphard again after tureis is saved.
-he has a permanent frostbite scar on his right hand from when he grabbed shiloh.
-team meanies fully disbands after tureis' rescue and gengar decides to spend his time giving back to the community in pokemon square for forgiving him. he pretty much becomes team fable's biggest fan and hypes up mayar and turies after she joins (newlin.....exists), not that he will ever admit it.
-after the tureis rescue, mayar tells alphard that regardless of what he's done in the past he's still deserving of love and compassion and that he's not a bad pokemon. alphard becomes smitten with her after that (<- guy that is desparate for companionship). mayar thinks that he's funny and forgives him for the whole "sending a violent mob after her and newlin" thing, and they hookup eventually. everybody in town (especially newlin) hates it but they're still supportive.
-other than newlin he becomes the most active participant in team fable's research into mega evolution when their focus shifts over to that.
gardevoir: tureis (she/her)
-joins team fable for a few years before eventually joining team charm after meeting lopunny. the switch from rescuing to exploring excites her, especially since she's been unable to go anywhere for years. mayar and newlin are very supportive of this. medicham also joins in hopes of getting stronger by travelling to make up for fainting in wish cave.
-being trapped took a heavy toll on her physical body that left her very ill for a long time. she couldn't do much without getting weak and winded, and was severely underweight upon being freed. everyone was supportive of her just doing what she can while part of the team (though she was barred from partaking in mega evolution research due to being a massive strain on the body and could be lethal in her condition). she's much healthier as of joining team charm, which is her main motivation for getting out there and travelling.
-there is a 30ish year gap between rt and explorers in my lore, so by the time she appears in explorers she's in her late 50s/early 60s. still kicking it!
-first image is her appearance in rt, second image is her appearance in explorers
-never recovers her memories of alphard but, for reasons she can't describe, she feels a strong kinship with him. the two become good friends.
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fortheloveoffanfic · 11 months ago
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Prettier When You're Mine
Dark!Andy Barber x Reader
Author’s Note: Two more chapters on this one
Summary: One year into working with a young, bright and beautiful junior prosecutor, Y/n, who bears an almost uncanny resemblance to Andy’s late wife, Laurie, he finds himself developing feelings for her. Though, when she brushes off his advances, Andy proves that he’ll do whatever it takes to recreate his family.
Disclaimer: 18+ This work contains dark themes, including stalking, dub-con, infidelity and manipulation. Read at your own discretion.
Masterlist Playlist Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Weeks after her visit to Andy's house, Y/n makes an unsettling discovery and Andy reveals an even more sinister truth Warning: mentions of forced sex, mentions of stalking, possessiveness, mentions of pregnancy
Twelve weeks Later
Food poisoning. Stress. A newly developed food intolerance. Some sort of undiagnosed illness. 
Off all the things that could have caused the wave of symptoms she’d been experiencing, two faint, pink lines on a little plastic stick was the last place Y/n figured she’d find her reasoning. Holding the edge of the bathroom counter in a white knuckled grip, she shut her eyes and bent her head. Sniffling softly, she felt a slow, warm trickle down her cheeks and it was a task in itself to quiet her sobs.  
It wasn’t possible- it wasn't supposed to be possible. 
Unless-
“Babe?” A knock on the locked bathroom door made Y/n jump, and hastily wiping at her eyes, she checked her reflection over while emitting a sound of encouragement. “I’m almost ready to leave-”
“Already?” After capping the test and shoving it into the waistband of the back of her pants, she pulled the door open abruptly, causing James- who had been leaning on it- to stumble forward a little. “I didn’t realize it was seven already.”
He glanced at his watch and flashed her a look of concern, “Its actually seven thirty,” reaching out, he cupped the side of her face and she tried to smile, hoping that the sting in her eyes would wait till he’d left. “You’re still sick?” He frowned deeply and then chuckled halfheartedly as he teased, “I thought you were better, you had half a pizza last night.”
Swallowing thickly, Y/n smiled faintly and laid her hand on his forearm, “I’m fine,” she lied. It was hard to keep it together, but the last thing Y/n wanted was to have to explain everything to James when she could hardly make sense of it all herself. “Its just um…my hair is being uncooperative.”
He didn’t look like he believed her, but played along anyway, “Looks great to me,” he bent his head a little too swipe a kiss off her lips. When he pulled away, James searched her eyes and furrowed his brows, “You’re sure that you’re okay?” He moved his hand to slip two fingers under her chin, “Because if you want to stay home, I’ll stay with you or-”
“I’m fine,” Y/n forced herself to smile, “Go to work,” she tiptoed and kissed him again. 
He sighed, “Alright. Alright. And you’re sure you don’t want a ride?” Y/n shook her head in refusal, already deciding that she had other plans and wanting to get out of her current situation as soon as possible. “Okay,” his smile faltered, “Well I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah,” Y/n blinked quickly, barely holding it together, it was getting harder to lie to him by the second, and all she wanted was a few minutes to break down in peace, “Later.” 
“Love you,” James said softly before kissing her one last time, and with a subtle, unnoticed break in her voice, Y/n returned; 
“Love you too.”
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Later that day
Letting out a long, slow breath, Y/n wrung her hands together. She was shaking in her shoes and barely holding it together; it felt like her whole life was falling apart while she’d been reduced to nothing more than a powerless spectator.
She was late to work that morning, having impulsively decided to detour to a local women’s clinic. A free one that time so she wouldn’t have to use insurance or her banking information- the last thing she needed was James finding out about it from anyone but her. It, up to the minute she’d seen the little grainy image on the blueish screen, Y/n had taken to calling the baby in her belly ‘it’. Because it wasn’t possible; it wasn’t supposed to be there. It was going to ruin everything. 
But then she’d seen it and within a second, everything had changed. She fell in love. 
And she was so scared of that love. 
The nurse at the clinic had been alarmed by her very expressive outburst; loud wailing and messy tears. She’d asked if something had happened to put her in that situation, if she needed to see a social worker or wanted a pamphlet on termination. Y/n had refused both. 
“Okay,” Y/n exhaled heavily, touching her lower stomach, “Let’s do this.” 
Another breath. 
Clenching her fist so tight she could feel her nails leaving crescent shaped bruises on her palms, Y/n knocked on the door. She would have just gone in, she wanted to, but Y/n also wanted to prolong her final moments spent in denial. 
“Come in.”
Another breath. A bigger one. 
Turning the knob, Y/n crept inside and shut the door behind herself. Her throat suddenly felt dry and when he looked up from his work, and when he flashed her an unsuspecting, innocent gaze she felt rage boil in her center. They hadn’t talked about what had happened at his house, Andy for one had seemed to have forgotten, making Y/n wonder if he’d been that drunk. 
She’d even started wondering if it had all been a dream because how could he forget when she thought about it everyday? 
“Y/n,” he folded his arms, “You’re-”
Late. For a lot of things. 
“I know,” she cut him off hastily, “We need to talk.”
It might have been her tone, or just the weight of her words, but Andy sat up straighter, relaxing into the back of his chair and knitted his brows. Frowning, he asked, “What is it?” Y/n hesitated, and he though he encouraged her to sit, she remained standing, “Sweetheart if you don’t-”
“Please don’t call me that,” she cut him off hastily, shaking her head, “You have no idea-” Her voice broke with emotion and she sniffled loudly.
"Hey," Andy crooned, standing and crossing the floor to come near her. Though, when he reached to touch her face, Y/n filched, and his jaw tightened in response. With a scoff, he raised his hands in mock surrender and stepped away to lean on the edge of a bureau against the wall while she lingered near the chairs at his desk
Peeved by his reaction but still crippled with anxiety, Y/n whispered, “This is really important.”
“I wouldn’t know, you haven’t told me yet,” he shrugged and she wasn't sure if his disregard was coming from his annoyance with her or just the fact that he seemed to enjoy seeing her vulnerable. When she still didn’t speak, Andy started again, “I want to help you, but-”
“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out, refusing to look at him. 
Andy huffed, straightening his back as his grip on the edge of cupboard loosened, “Congratulations.”
Lifting her head, her jaw dropped when she realized his apparent amusement, “No, you don’t understand,” Y/n explained in a panic, “I’m twelve weeks pregnant and....." For a moment, she considered telling him about James' infertility, but Y/n didn't think she wanted him to know that much about her personal life. "It doesn't matter," she shook her head, "You're probably the father." Most likely.
Andy scoffed a chuckle, “I know. How's that for your ten percent?” 
Her lips quivered and Y/n felt like the room was spinning. As heavy breaths threatened to turn into a full on panic attack, she reached for the back of the closest chair for support. “What?”
“I know,” Andy repeated, licking his lips before he stood, slipping his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, “I know...everything. About James; the accident and his……little problem.”
Slapping her hand to her mouth, Y/n emitted a choked sob. “Oh my god,” her words were muffled into her palm, “You knew.” Andy came to stand behind her, laying one hand on her shoulder while the other snaked around to flatten on her stomach. There wasn’t a visible bump there yet, but there was a distinct firmness that she’d only started noticing earlier the last week.
“Don’t touch me,” as a whirlpool of emotions engulfed her, Y/n shoved him off, “How did you know?” 
A car wreck when he was sixteen temporarily left James paralyzed from the waist down and had permanently left him unable to have children. He’d been up front about the whole thing when they’d first started getting serious, and they’d even had a battery of tests run after they’d moved in together, just to be sure. For years, Y/n had promised, him and herself, that she didn’t care that they would never have biological children, and for years, it was true. She was okay with it being just the two of them for the rest of their lives, she was okay with adoption if they ever decided to have children.
But then she’d seen that couple at the doctor’s office and the most intense mixture of jealousy and heartbreak had overwhelmed her to the point of wondering if she actually was okay with never being able to get pregnant, or if she was just going along with it because she loved him. 
“Give a dirty cop three thousand dollars and he’ll show you the world,” Andy taunted, reaching out to touch her face and clicking his tongue when she slapped his hand away, “You don’t have to be upset, I'm giving you what you want.” 
“I didn’t want it like this!” She laid a hand over her stomach protectively, “You can’t do this to me, I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” Andy stepped forward to box her in, “Have a abortion? I know you don’t want that, else you wouldn’t be here right now. And don't you think for a second that you’re gonna pass my baby off as his.”
“Who’s to say you can stop me from doing either?”
The thought had crossed her mind when she determined that Andy was her baby’s father; she could lie to James and let him think they’d run into a miracle, or she could have an abortion at the women’s clinic and move on with her life. But Andy was right, she wanted that baby and lying to James for the rest of their lives wasn’t something she could bring herself to do. Their relationship had been built on trust and honesty, if they raised that child together and he somehow found out that it wasn’t his, he’d be devastated and everything they had would be ruined. 
And Andy deserved to know that he had a baby out there, at least, that was the fact that Y/n had convinced herself of on the cab ride over to the office. 
In an instant, Andy had her by the neck, holding her against the door. His grip wasn't tight enough to completely cut off her air, but it was firm and hurt. “You won’t,” Andy snarled, letting her throat go in favor of grabbing the the neckline of her blouse and pulling her up to his face, “You get rid of this baby and I will fucking kill you,” he shoved her against the door again, eliciting a frightened gasp, “And you tell him that its his, or try to run away or do whatever that brilliant little mind of yours can come up with and I will hunt you down and kill him with my bare hands. And you will never see this child again.”
“Why are you doing this?” She shuddered, voice quiet and scared. 
He was proving to truly be a monster. To be all the things she’d heard about him; the kind of man that could raise a murderer- because he was capable of being one himself. 
When he let her blouse go, his demeanor shifted completely. With newfound gentleness, Andy's eyes softened and he smoothed his hand over the wrinkles on her blouse. Trailing his fingers down her body he stopped to cradle the front of her hips, thumbs rubbing slow circles in the area a couple inches below her navel. “How can you ask me that?” He frowned, “I’m doing this for you- for our family. I just want our family back.”
A hitched noise contained in her throat followed the return of a thought she’d had back at his house; it was never about her. “I’m not her, I’m not Laurie.”
Andy’s long lashes fluttered as his gaze flitted to meet hers, “You’re not,” he agreed, touching her face gently, “You’re so much better. She was weak and stupid. She killed my baby boy,” he leaned his forehead against hers and while she was scared to the point of her blood running like ice water, Y/n didn't dare move away, “But you’ll protect our baby, I know it. You'll be such a good wife and an even better mother, I knew it from the moment we met.”
“I love my fiancee,” she whimpered. 
“No,” his mood shifted suddenly and Andy grabbed her by the shoulders, holding Y/n to the door, though not violently. “I see the way you look at me. You feel the same way I do,” he pressed urgently, “This is the way its supposed to be.”
“This the way you made it,” Y/n counted fearfully. 
He scoffed, bemused again, “Call it divine intervention.” Though his grip on her shoulders was bruising, Andy used his thumb to trace affectionate circles into the fabric of her coat, "Now,” his tone dropped again, “I’ve told you what happens if you make the wrong decisions. So you’re going to do as I say, and we’re going to fix this, together.”
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v1neyy · 4 months ago
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skizzpulse 12!!
They srsly make me ill like I need to put them in a paper shredder and turn them into confetti so bad. Also I may slow down on these for a while bc I have like… quite a few fic exchange gifts to write!!
Skizz/Impulse - #12, a kiss in the rain.
WC: 464 || original post!
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Impulse is sorting through his chests when the pistons of his door open up behind him. He doesn’t mind that people steal from him, but he does wish they would put things back in the correct place. He turns around to say hello and is met with a completely drenched Skizzleman.
“Hey buddy!”
He walks up to the angel, “Why are you soaked?”
Skizz chuckles, “I was hangin’ in the rain!” he shakes his wings, making water spray everywhere around the room, effectively getting Impulse wet.
He yelps at the water, a very manly yelp mind you, holding his hands out in a pathetic attempt to stay dry. “Skizz!”
The man grabs his hand and starts dragging him towards the door. “C’mon, out we go, you’re already wet anyways!”
Impulse sighs and lets himself be dragged outside. Rain is falling in a downpour, pounding against the roofs of the buildings that live in the cyber city. Hopefully he made them waterproof enough.
Once Skizz is done dragging him he lets go of his hand (which Impulse misses more than he should) and turns to face him. “What do we do now?”
“I dunno. Just wanted to do something,” Skizz shrugs.
Wrapping his arms around himself, Impulse shivers. “Well I’m cold,” He makes his best pouty face.
A damp wing wraps itself around Impulse. For the second time tonight he yelps at Skizz, the cold seeping from the feathers into his skin. The angel gives him a cheeky smile, “This better?”
He narrows his eyes. “No. This is worse, actually.”
The second wing wraps around him and pulls him closer, making him chest to chest with Skizz. Butterflies fill his stomach.
“How about now?”
Impulse rolls his eyes. “Yeah, whatever,”
Skizz gasps in mock offense, “Hey! Don’t give me attitude, I’m helping!”
Raindrops land on Skizz, looking almost like tears. It’s a bit mesmerizing to Impulse, how his friend can look more angelic than he already does while not even trying. He nearly faints when sturdy arms take hold of his waist, spreading warmth.
“What- what are you up to?”
He gets a sly smile as a reply, “Nothing!”
Impulse is about to bark a reply about how Skizz is never up to nothing when he’s cut off by lips pressing against his. It takes him a second to process that the angel is kissing him.
Once his brain starts working again Skizz is pulling away, looking anxious. He panics a little because he doesn’t want this to end, not now, not ever. He cups Skizz’s cheeks in his hands and pulls him back into another kiss, this one slower and more meaningful.
When they part they both laugh. Impulse hardly notices the cold rain drenching him, the warmth from Skizz making his skin buzz.
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sunlightandsuffering · 5 months ago
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Mikasa has never been popular. 
Never. Not once, elementary school, high school, summer camp, never in her life has she been the person people flock to.
It’s just not her, she’s not the girl everyone coos over and people yearn to be friends with. The best she’s got is Sasha, who to be honest more than makes up for Mikasa’s lack of friends, the girl sends her more memes than Mikasa imagines any large friend group would. One friend is enough. 
But maybe that explains why Mikasa is so ill-prepared to deal with the situation at hand, why instead of acting, she’s standing in the middle of the woods surrounded by drunken partygoers with her mouth hanging open doing absolutely nothing as someone’s piece of shit beater goes up in flames. 
There is an equally flabbergasted boy standing a few paces away from her, a very handsome one she notes as the flames engulf the old truck, illuminating the sharp angles of his face, casting his golden skin an almost bronze colour. “Am I just really fucking high, or is that actually on fire?” He asks, his voice a rich baritone, his pupils dilated so large his eyes look black in the night, barely a faint ring of green at the edges. Mikasa turns back to the rapidly escalating fire, pinching herself to make sure, “It’s on fire.” The boy beside her balks, “Is it… supposed to be on fire?” 
Mikasa glances around the gravel parking lot wearily, noting everyone that was around before has mysteriously disappeared off into the woods to join the party, “I don’t think so.” “Are you going to do anything about it?” The boy asks, almost in a daze and this time it’s Mikasa’s turn to balk, what the hell is she supposed to do? 
“It’s not even my car,” She responds defensively, her arms coming up to hug herself and they both hear the blare of sirens in the distance, hopefully the fire trucks. “So you’re just going to leave it?” Mikasa glares at him now, ripping her gaze from the yellow flames, “I don’t see you doing anything about it!” “Baby,” the boy looks at her now, his voice wicked as his gaze rakes her up and down, “I’m high as a fucking kite right now, there’s no shot I’m putting out a fire.” Mikasa hates how the pet name sends shivers up her spine, even more, because she can feel her pussy practically throb under his attention, because she knows this boy now, has seen him around her small town before. Resident stoner, Eren Yeager, and notorious flirt, apparently great in the sack and hotter than he has any right to be for a pothead. 
“Well, what are we supposed to do?” Mikasa asks genuinely, her hands gesturing wildly as she turns back to the fire, because Sasha is long gone and with every second she can hear the fire trucks getting closer. Eren shrugs, reaching over to grab her hand almost unconsciously, “We should probably get the fuck out of here.”
And the next thing she knows she’s being dragged towards Eren’s own beater on the other side of the parking lot, a piece of shit jeep thats seen better days and to her dismay she’s being shoved into the fucking driver’s seat. 
“What are you doing?” She asks in outrage as he buckles her in with more dexterity than he should have for someone who’s probably done several bong tokes already tonight. “I’m high as fuck Mikasa I can’t fucking drive, do you know how to drive stick?” The suggestion is so outrageous she doesn’t even have any time to ruminate on the fact that he somehow knows her name. 
“No!” “Well, you’re gonna learn, get excited baby.” 
“Stop calling me baby,” She tells him poutily and Eren smirks as he climbs into the cab, his hand unabashedly grabbing at her thighs, “You like it baby, admit it.” 
She most certainly does not!
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labselkie · 5 months ago
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THE NEXT BIG ONE! WHO BOOED!
i hate these two with half the fibers of my being. although i do hate some people just a bit more so maybe that weighs out! n e ways.. dumb and dumber week five
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05/10/2018
Just at 10:40, a few brisk knocks sounded at Lucielle’s apartment door. Olivia looked out of place in the hallway, just like she had riding her bike to the complex, and walking down the hall.
She ditched the lab coat Lucielle was used to for a dark tan jacket. It was layered over a long, plant patterned high waisted skirt and a loose-fit button up. She pulls a light scarf through her fingers, waiting for a response. She had been there for ten minutes, deciding to get there just at the time she had planned. Maybe going early would’ve been better for Lucielle, she had always arrived early to their appointments, so maybe Olivia putting in that effort would show that she cared.
Although, the doctor was nervous, shifting on her feet and constantly looking around the empty hall every few seconds. Another minute, another knock, she thought she was getting ahead of herself.
But there was nothing, no answer, not a sound. Olivia idly reached out a hand, her left one still tugging on the end of her scarf. She can’t explain how her heart beats quicker, how her mind overflows with emotion. She swallows, her hand on the doorknob almost shaking.
As Doctor Octopus, she’s committed plenty of crimes, dozens worse than just waltzing in to someone’s house with no ill intent. She still worries, though- What if Lucielle never forgives her? What if she was kicked out? Screamed at? She can’t help but panic, even if the last proper crime she committed was two days before she met Lucielle.
Olivia feels frozen, her thoughts running back to her last meeting with Spider-Man. She hadn’t been the one to initiate the fight, rather having to stop him from yet another attempt at wrecking some work. “You’ll only hurt her,” he had said when Olivia let it slip that she was meeting a friend, “It won’t work, doc! It never does.”
Her right hand tightens, and the knob clicks… It wasn’t fully locked, and the dark wooden door slowly swings open.
“God…” Olivia breathes, yanking her hand back like she touched a charged wire. Her brows furrow and her face feels hotter than ever. The cracked door calls to her, one magnet to another, and through the slit she can catch a glimpse of warm colors and bright windows. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever she could see, or whatever could possibly happen.
It was quite the quaint place, a main studio area connected to a bedroom and bathroom. She’s immediately met with vibrant colors and sweet decor, older furniture sets dotting the dark wooden floor. Olivia quietly closes the door behind her, surveying the place like an animal adapting to a new enclosure. She quickly locks onto the open bedroom door and steps up.
“Hello?” The doctor calls out.
Olivia lets her hand brush against a vase of fake white flowers on a table, and enters the bedroom. The faint sound of water splashing can be heard from the bathroom, and she has to tear her focus away from a tall bookshelf and the lightly colored bedsheets and outfit laid out beside piled pillows. A chill shoots down her spine, and not from the coolness of the room.
She runs a hand through her hair, freezing up right before the doorway. “If I don’t have an excuse, Lucielle will kill me,” her mind argues with itself, “I should go, I’m being rash.” But she still enters, and her eyes aren’t drawn to a young woman standing there.
Instead, she stared right at a dark harbor seal napping in an almost full bathtub.
The beast was as large as a retriever, practically motionless as it slept. Its pelt was dark, almost a slate blue, and absolutely coated in black spots. It was familiar, and as Olivia battled through her shock, a hand gripping the doorframe, she couldn’t help but feel excited that she was right about Lucielle’s mutant power.
Long whiskers rose and fell with each breath as it laid its head on the bathtub’s edge. Its back flippers faintly kicked whenever it exhaled, sending small ripples through the water. Olivia’s worried frown shifts into a weak grin. The sweet animal caught her off guard, and she has to bring a hand to her mouth as she holds back her laughter. A thin rug muffles her steps when she finally approaches the tub, and the idea of slipping out her phone to take a picture doesn’t even pass her mind.
She leans down, hands on her thighs as the seal sniffs in its sleep. Once, twice, then like a dog who caught onto a scent, its eyes flicker open. The beast panics, floundering around in its tub at the sight of Olivia, letting out a sharp bark and gracelessly slipping into the water.
Olivia steps back before she can get splashed, and she raises her hands with wide eyes. “Luce! It’s me!” She exclaimed as it tried to regain its footing, “Honey, hi! It’s ok!”
The seal was finally able to hook a front flipper back over the bathtub’s edge. It bares its fangs, out of breath from the sudden scare. It closes its eyes, and in a flash something moves- Not the seal, but something beneath its fur.
Olivia couldn’t see the transformation, no one really could, but in a quick moment Lucielle peeks out her head from under a now lifeless pelt. Her hair’s a bit disheveled, and she’s scrambling to cover up her body, but one thing shines through: shock.
“Liv?!” She barks, her chest heaving with worried breaths. Olivia takes another step back, studying the little lady below her. Lucielle has clearly just woken up, the makeup she had put so much effort into was smudged around her eyes, and it was a miracle that the massive pelt could cover her where she sat in the tub. “What the fu- How the hell did you even-“
Olivia’s eyes soften, and her face falls. Her lips part, and she fights to find her words. “The door- I figured I’d come on time and it was unlocked! So I-“ The women lock eyes. Lucielle had been crying sometime before shifting into seal form. Olivia swallows, unable to get that lump out of her throat.
Lucielle sinks a bit more into the bath’s scarce soap bubbles, pulling her pelt closer to cover herself. She sighs faintly, before mumbling, “I fell back asleep.. God, oh shit I am so sorry.” She doesn’t bring her hands up until she knows the pelt is tied just enough to cover her front. “I mean- You should be sorry, who would do that!”
“I am sorry!” Olivia adds quickly, unsure how to react to her normal cold demeanor shattering, “I didn’t want to be late, I can leave and call this all off, ok? You can go back to your little nap, and-“
“Stay.” The selkie butts in, finally standing her ground. She sniffs, taking a quick breath, “Please, could you just wait in the living room for a minute..? I’ll get ready, we can still go, I still want to go.”
Olivia raises a brow, and a small frown dims her expression. If anything, she was confused- Why hadn’t she been cast out, why hadn’t she been shouted at? Was Lucielle ok?
The doctor takes a small step back, adjusting her jacket nervously to try and keep herself occupied. “Do you want to talk about it here?”
“No, we can-“ Lucielle wrings her hands together underwater, “We can discuss it over lunch.”
Olivia found Lucielle’s small apartment adorable. It was a miracle how she could afford to rent her own, less than 600 square feet, but open enough to feel comfortable. The doctor stood in the main living area, barely leaning on the couch by the door. She could see herself here, sat on that very couch, over in the little kitchen corner, sat by the window with a mutant by her side. She didn’t like to settle, she was barely ever at the penthouse provided by Fisk Industries, but with that inability to leave her work came a yearning for something personalized.
Olivia removed her jacket, folding it over one arm and stretching out the other. The dark metal harness plastered on her back was faintly visible through the white fabric of her shirt. Her gaze trails the wall in front of her: a crowded coat rack, a grand set of bookcases around a quaint television, a taller potted plant, and much more. Apart from the bits of marine themed decor and small figures from movies or games, the place looked like it could be from a magazine. The last thing she picked out from the decorations was a familiar machine, the last functional light beginning to quietly blink in a quicker succession.
Ten minutes, that’s how long it took Lucielle to finally exit. Olivia whirled around at the door’s creaking, eyes wide under her large glasses. Lucielle was in the same outfit laid out on the bed: high rise, loose cut shorts, a simple pastel tank, and a necklace with a dark seal claw on its chain. Even if her curly hair was still damp, she seemed to put on a faint bit of eye makeup, like she felt the need to look her possible best at any time.
“Sorry again.” She begins, just standing in the doorway with the lamplight behind her still bright, “I’m alright, just- A few things went wrong at once last night, and then I got scared I’d be late.”
Olivia notices how the mutant stayed still, so as she turned, she didn’t approach either. “And then it all falls apart,” She muses calmly, glancing to her side and the macine she caught a glimpse of, “It’s alright, I get it.. How about we go for a walk, you can show me the way to that cafe, ok?” She wasn’t used to having someone to look over, let alone someone who looked out for her as well.
Lucielle took a small step back, reaching into her room to grab a little crossbody bag. She finally exits the room when she slings it on, and finally smiles. “That’s perfect.”
They were both silent until they stepped out of the building, and Lucielle is the first to chime in.
“Spider-Man,” She talks slowly, just as she tries not to walk ahead, “He found me last night, and he sounded scared.. Of you.”
Olivia was about to look terrified at the prospect of Spider-Man ‘finding’ Lucielle, but at the rest of the story, she just frowned. “So that’s why you had the Observation Device, I didn’t even notice he took it yesterday.”
“You fought him yesterday?” She turns her head as she walks, nearly hitting her shoulder on a lamppost.
“He broke in.” Olivia corrects, fixing up her posture in a subconscious attempt to seem calmer, “I have no clue what his motives were, but yes, I fought him yesterday..”
“And…” Lucielle pauses to double check the road she’s about to cross, “You mentioned me.”
As Olivia follows, she’s still on high alert. Not for her surroundings, but for the emotions of the woman she’s walking with. Her brows furrow, and her lips purse some. “Not… Really. I said that he was getting between, well- ‘A friend and I,’ I only ever mentioned you were a mutant!”
Lucielle knew where she was going, so she was able to slow down and process at her own pace. “A friend..?” Tears threatened to well in her eyes, she’d be able to make an excuse that the wind made her tear up, but it most certainly wouldn’t work.
Olivia looked to the road, and stopped at the next crosswalk. “Mhm… A friend. I didn’t want him to trash the lab while we fought like usual,” She was usually the one to wreck the laboratory, “Because- Because I like your company, and I don’t want to scare you off.”
Lucielle sighs, rubbing a free hand over her cheek before her fingers brushed through her hair. For once, she was the one studying the other woman’s expression. The nearest traffic light flicked green, and the light across the street clicked to life. She reaches out a hand to tap the doctor’s.
“I’m sure I’ve said this before.. But it’s not easy to scare me,” She reassured with a smile, “I just forgot- I forgot you were on his bad side and I forgot about all the things you’ve done” Lucielle stepped out to the open crosswalk, and Olivia takes a quick step forward to catch up. The doctor’s thinner hand darts out to try and take Lucielle’s, and her attempt is met with success. Her cool skin against the mutant’s warm palm was an odd feeling, but not too uncomfortable.
“But that’s not all I am-” Olivia’s words came quicker after she took the mutant’s hand. As they got just a touch closer, Olivia could see the faint redness around Lucielle’s eyes from her earlier breakdown, could notice the strands of hair that just wouldn’t flatten with the rest of her curls. “It’s for work.. That’s all it is,” She wouldn’t admit the excitement she garnered from the rush of battling, nor the ecstasy of having so little regulations on her work, at least not yet, “Let me make this up to you- I didn’t know he would show up, I swear.”
There really was a corner bookstore within a mile of her home, Olivia would have to keep that in mind for when she stayed in Fisk Tower. There’s a cafe connected to it, and the store itself stretched across two floors. Lucielle is the one to open the door, gesturing Olivia to enter, and smiling when thanked. It’s not the largest spot, but with its connection to the bookstore, it’s more than enough. A few tables and even a set of booths, all lit from a few warm lights and the large windows near the entrance.
They’re seated quite quickly, with two little cups of black tea and a couple of pastries. Neither of them were used to this, Lucielle quietly adds some sugar and creamer to her tea, and Olivia just goes right into drinking hers. Lucielle couldn’t be upset for long, so after she finally takes a sip, she speaks back up.
“I wasn’t even mad about you coming in.” She says nonchalantly, reaching out to a small plate between them to pluck out an apple fritter. “There was just a lot going on, if anything, you smelling like coffee helped me get up.”
“You could-“ Olivia blurts out, “You could smell that?” She leaned forward in her chair, forearms folded on the table.
“Of course! Seal form, clearly.. Plus, it was new, I don’t drink coffee so I know something was up.” Lucielle takes another drink, and finally goes to bite her pastry before saying, “That’s why I got you the bag with the least caffeine too.”
Olivia almost chokes on her sip, before finally getting it down and laughing. “God, Luce- I thought you were devastated this morning!”
Lucielle took a big bite of the fritter, snickering to herself. “I was… But seeing you made it much better.”
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crazylittlejester · 6 months ago
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So to had another plot bunny that grew somewhat right after sharing the last idea with you!
So we both agree that Wars would be a girl dad. That much is set in stone for me. But then I had a thought! Wars carries all this guilt after the war. Many people died in battle, but many more also died to sickness (this is a personal headcannon of mine since major wars often lead to the spread of disease. Like with influenza and WW2). So one day or another he gets to chatting with one of the soldiers under his command and it's brought up that this guy and his wife are expecting a kid! Man is super excited to see the end of the war and hopefully be home in time to see the birth of his kid.
But since I can't let anyone ever be happy apparently when I write, the soldier ends up dying in battle. The war was almost done at that point then too. Warriors gets to witness it too. (Poor Wars. He's my second favorite Link overall but my favorite to write. This seemingly has not gone well for him.) So Link decides that he'll be the one to go tell the wife that her husband is dead.
So he gets to the home and knocks on the door. No one answers. He waits a few minutes and knocks again, still no answer. He hears a faint crying from within the home. Wars ends up opening the door to the one room cottage. There he finds the mother dead to illness and a very young baby girl, no older than a month or two, crying weakly in a cradle.
Link of course ends up taking the baby since there's no one to take care of her, no even a nearby village. He decides to adopt her eventually (it's the least he owes with how he killed her parents) and give her one of the names the soldier mentioned he would have wanted his daughter to be named.
I do have more that I can share about this but currently I have run out of patience for typing on my phone. Hope you enjoy! (⁠ ⁠T⁠_⁠T⁠)⁠\⁠(⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠ ⁠)
-Emig22 💛
(PS when I shared both ideas to my IRL friend they told me that I should combine both ideas and kill off warriors's kid. Take that as you will)
DONT YOU DARE KILL THAT CHILD. GOOD LORD, HIT ME WITH A BRICK NEXT TIME ITLL HURT LESS!! OUGH!!! i have a similar wip in my google docs, just without the illness part
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i fear you ate, however i AM emotionally devastated
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fatuismooches · 2 years ago
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heyyy basically
i’m feeling absolutely shit rn bc i’ve worked myself into an utter state (god i’m praying i don’t faint after my exam and nullify it) so like what better to do than to come up with a brainrot
just imagine, it’s fragile! reader and they’ve got an upcoming assessment, biggest of the semester but fuck they just can’t study. their headaches are debilitating and constant but they push through anyways because god they need to get that score. they can’t fall behind now. and dottores been watching you all day, he knows he can’t get in your way, you were practically unstoppable; it was one of the things that drew him to you in the first place. but rn? god rn seeing you like this planted a strange feeling in his cold excuse of a heart and he knew he couldn’t just leave you like this. without a word, he saunters over, and gently pries the quill from your hands, you protest but you haven’t the energy for much more really and so you let him. you let him guide you to the bed and you let him lay you down and slip in next to you. he wasn’t a man who thought much of ‘cuddles’ or whatever the hell you called it. yet he wraps his arms around you, gentle yet so firm you’d think a breeze could snatch you away. yet he cradles a hand behind your head and runs his fingers through your tresses, combing out knots, combing out stress. yet he presses you against him and lets the unspoken reassurances flow onto you through the way he pulls you under his sanctity. ‘don’t break yourself’ whispered his fingers as they traced meaningless alchemical symbols on your skin. ‘you’re perfect the way you are, you don’t need to do this’ reassured the proximity between the two of you. the only word that was vocalised between in the quiet sanctuary was your name. there it hung, palpable and present in the air. and nothing more was needed to be said
LOL SORRY THAT WAS SO LONG, can u tell i’m dying for comfort rn 😭
HOPE THAG MAKES IP FOR MY ABSENCE LMAOO
-🌕💗
🌕 ANON?? THAT FIRST SENTENCE IS VERY ALARMING PLEASE REST??? Studying and working are important but you and your wellbeing are more important 💖 Balance is key, please make sure to relax 😔 But the brain rot? *chef kiss*
If you had the energy to, you'd laugh at how poor your situation was. This... mysterious illness of yours just had to appear when finals were right around the corner. If it was just a cold or a slight fever, you could have worked through it, just as you had many times before, but this pain was unlike any you ever had endured. But anyway, surely you could get through this. It was only a few more days, and you absolutely had to do good. Especially since this professor was notorious for his long and complicated exams. Especially because you couldn't bear to think what would happen if you fell behind. What Zandik would think of you.
You could always tell when Zandik was looking at you because anyone really could feel the piercing stare he gave off. You two studied in the same room but in different spaces for maximum concentration and organization. You used to ask him questions and such but you've been far too quiet now for his liking after since you became sick. And while he does admire how perseverant you are to knowledge, he does not enjoy forcing you to go to sleep or watching you barely touch your food while studying. Even he has to acknowledge the limitations of humanity. No human can properly function like this.
The silence he used to crave becomes unsettling, and he shall tolerate it no more. You don't even notice him coming up behind you, thinking he's too focused on his own stuff, so when your pen is plucked from you rather easily you're surprised for a good few seconds. You're opening your mouth to protest but the words don't come out when you see the expression on your lover's face. Zandik gives you a look that you have only seen a few times but understands well - the one where he will have his way, he won't take no for an answer.
So when he pulls you from your desk and lays you on the bed, you can't help but mutter some grumbles as to how you were perfectly fine, and he did this kind of stuff before so why couldn't you do it, which he promptly shuts you up with a flick to the forehead and soft blankets. He doesn't verbalize it but it's because you are clearly tired and sick. You are sick with something he doesn't understand for once in his life and he cannot seem to find any kind of information or research or anything whether it was from hundreds of years ago to a few. And you are pushing yourself through it with no knowledge of the consequences, and no knowledge means no predictability. And then means there is uncertainty which he does not like when it comes to you. For once, he is unsure. Zandik does not enjoy that feeling.
When he initiates the act of cuddling you are surprised but do not question or tease him for once, as comfort was what you desired the most now. Your senses were all hazy from the onslaught of illness and studying and he was being so un-Zandik-like but you lived for moments like these. Your brain had trouble processing his movements but he was doing all the things you enjoyed, fuzziness and heat warming your body. You could make out the lines being drawn on your body, a habit he tended to do unconsciously. The rubbing of your skin in the sore places from studying nonstop. No words needed to be said. Zandik wasn't very adept with flowery words anyway, and you preferred it that way. This meant more than words could convey, and you fell asleep quickly in your beloved's arms.
Zandik looked at you, completely knocked out with not-so-subtle eyebags. Your painfully weak grasp on his shirt. You were far smarter than what a test said anyway. He himself knew that for sure. Maybe that final of yours will be postponed. Better yet, canceled. He'll see what he can do.
Whenever I'm in Sumeru I'm always reminded of how I'd NEVER EVER join the Akademiya because of how hellish it seems, so much work and years to graduate, too much thinking, way too many smart people there who would talk circles around me, uniform, studying, failing, no sleep, and then there are students like Layla barely surviving 😭 I have no talent but sign me up for theater 🙏
Anyway... I appreciate all short and long brain rots, they're so 🥰 I wish I could provide more comfort but... *hugs you* <33
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vvmylove · 1 year ago
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Liking you isn't so bad after all
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I do not apologize for the jumpscare 
FOR @ayylovley Here you go. Please enjoy
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 18+ ONLY
Life on the run was not easy for Moon. Luckily, after bumping into James one night and a few arguments. James had convinced her to join Hostel, to fight along with them. At first, Moon found James a little creepy, but after a while, she had gotten used to his crazy antics. 
James had introduced Moon to their leader, Olly. At first, Olly wasn't so fond of Moon. He found her useless. He had solely created Hostel A to recreate Hostel B. It's not like Moon was a replica of Sally(haha get it?) Anyways, she decides to stick around and help get money for the group. Moon had spent most of her time trying to ignore Olly’s presence, but it was difficult when he was the one always ordering her around. (exchange Moon for Y/N I got lazy for the beginning here)
-
“We will use you as a distraction. Distract the guards and leave immediately,” Olly orders. He had seemed excited for the mission. He was going to get money after all. Olly was driving James and Y/N to a large facility.
Y/N glares over at Olly, shrugging. ‘Is that really all that I am worth to him? A distraction rather than a part of the mission?’ she thought to herself, sighing. Crossing her arms, she looks away with a sour look on her face. She wanted to prove to Olly that she was capable of more than just some doll as a distraction. 
The Van halts and they scurry out of it. Olly points over at the building. “Kill anyone who interferes,” he says over to James. Olly knew James was capable, anyone as insane determined as him would get the job done. Despite Olly’s seemingly casual attitude, she saw the faint smirk on his face. Was he really trying to test her? Both boys ran to the side of the building, grabbing anything that could be used as a weapon. 
As expected, Y/N had to fend for herself. Ill show you, you damn- She takes a nearby stick and throws it at one of the guards. So much for a ‘great distraction.’ The guards immediately responded by flaring out their weapons, pointing at the direction of the stick, pointing at Y/N. At first, they thought of her as just another stupid passerby. That was until she decided to slam herself onto one of the bodyguards, both of them stumbling back. Her eyes widened. She had not thoroughly developed a plan at all, so much for trying to show off. She uses her knees to jab at the bodyguard's stomach. The other bodyguards were quick to grab onto her, pushing her off the bodyguard on the floor. One of them pokes the weapon at her side, “What makes you think-” he said condescendingly. 
If there was one thing about Y/N, it is that she was quick with her movements. She was able to slither herself off the bodyguard's grip and make a run for it without a second thought. 
Making a run for it, she could hear the loud stomps of the guards as they quickened with her every step. The guards seemed determined to catch her, viewing her as a perceived threat. Running far would only cause her further trouble, as she would soon be lost. She makes a turn, heading back towards the building. 
-
Olly and James had successfully made their way out of the building, bloodied and tired. It didn’t matter how many they had killed, all that mattered was the abundance of cash in their hands, stuffed in their pockets. 
“Y/N?” Olly questions, looking around the building as he makes his way towards the car. He stuffs the cash in his car. “I only asked you to do one damn thing-” he mutters to himself, now annoyed that Y/N wasn’t in sight. Olly takes a deep breath, looking around once more before seeing the large group of armed men chasing Y/N in the near distance. 
He quickly gets into the car, James following along, and turns the wheel over to the direction of the guys. He pressed his foot on the gas as hard as he could, hitting the guys all at once. 
Y/N saw the familiar van stopping in front of her, feeling a mix of relief and frustration. Olly’s annoyance was radiating as he ordered her to get inside of the car.
“Get your ass in the car,” Olly seethed through his teeth. Y/N quickly nodded before getting into the car, cash spilled from their pockets onto the floor. 
“What took you so long huh? I told you to distract them and leave,” Olly says angrily, looking through the mirror to get a glimpse of her. He sped away from the scene, and Y/N couldn’t shake off the feeling that Olly had not been satisfied with her performance, especially when her job was as simple as distracting a bunch of guards. 
Y/N bites the inside of her cheek as she turns away from him, since when did he care so much about her wellbeing? So much for trying to prove herself as a worthy teammate. She scoffs, “Why don’t YOU distract the guards then?” Olly’s words had stung her, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that he had come to rescue her. The way he pressed on the gas, hitting the guards all at once, reminded her that despite his irritated exterior, he was still capable of caring for his teammate. 
Olly had just saved her from any further danger, and she couldn’t bring herself to be grateful. It wasn’t her fault that the guards went after her. Maybe if he did something instead of ordering her around and doing all the fun himself- She shakes off her contradicting thoughts. 
-
Y/N had spent weeks trying to ignore Olly's presence, but as she watched him lead the mission with confidence, she found herself increasingly drawn to him. He moved with ease through buildings, dealing with groups of men all at once with his bare hands. It was always Olly who stepped forward to face the enemy. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Olly was secretly trying to pull her in. She couldn’t deny the way her heart raced whenever he turned towards her, or the way her breath hitched in her throat when he smiled. 
There was no way she would have feelings for a guy like him? She despised him, or so she thought. She paces around the room, talking to herself out of frustration. “There's no way I like him, it's not like he's cute or anything,” she tries to reason with herself. 
What she had not realized was James making his way towards her, wanting to ask her for help with counting cash. Instead, he finds her talking to herself and decides to listen in. Pressing his ear against the door, he giggles to himself. 
“...way I like him, it's not like he's cute or anything”  was all James heard. He dramatically gasps to himself before skidding his (stupid ass) way to Olly. 
James grabs onto Olly, shaking him by the shoulder with a large grin plastered onto his face. He knew something was up between Y/N and Olly, sensing the tension between them. After a few minutes of giggling like a schoolgirl, he spills to Olly the news. 
-
Olly slowly opens the door to Y/N’s room, staring at her with a smirk as he leans on the doorframe. "I didn't know you felt that way about me," he says seductively. 
Y/N was a little confused as to what he was saying, too lost in her thoughts. Olly made his way towards her and immediately grabbed her by the waist, bringing her closer. She could feel her heart race in her chest. Her breathing quickened as he leaned in for a kiss. He slaps her side, earning a small gasp from her and uses this opportunity to slip his tongue in her mouth. 
Y/N had completely forgotten about everything as her mind started to spin from the kiss. Lost in the moment, she kisses him back passionately, synchronizing the movement of her lips with his. Olly deepens the kiss, running his hand up and down her back, slowly pushing her towards the wall until her back hits it. She felt a sense of warmth spread throughout her body as his hands stopped onto her lower back, bringing her impossibly closer to him. Olly’s tongue explores her mouth, his fingertips grazing her skin before tightly gripping onto her hips. 
Within the next few moments, clothes were tossed to the side. Moans echoed through the room as Olly brought his hands down to her wet core, easily slicking two fingers into her. “You're so wet,” he murmurs onto her skin as he starts to quicken his pace. Y/N’s hips buck into his hands, a mess as her back arches off the bed. “M-more,” she desperately moans, feeling close to her climax. 
“Jump,” he commands, breathless, moving his hands down to the back of her thighs. Y/N complies, wrapping her legs around his waist. Olly gently lays her on the bed, hovering himself on top of her. Y/N grabs onto his shoulders, spreading her legs for him.
“Good girl,” Olly chuckles at her eagerness, leaning down to kiss her lips one more time before trailing down to her neck. He places wet, sloppy kisses all over her neck. Y/N tilts her head, giving him more access as she moans softly. 
Olly decides to be a tease, pulling out his fingers and shoving them into her mouth. Y/N involuntarily licks her own wetness off his fingers as his mouth waters at the sight. She whined at the sudden loss of touch. He lines himself up to her core, slowly rubbing his dick on her entrance. “Say it, say you want it,” he teases. 
“M-yes, Olly. I want you” she moans. That was all it took for him to obey, he was as desperate as her. He pushes himself into her, and Y/N’s hands claws his back. “Such a good whore,” he cooes into her ear as his hips rock back and forth. Y/N whimpers as he starts to speed up, pleasure shooting up her spine. 
“Im-” Y/N gasps as his hips sped up, she felt the knot in her stomach starting to build up. Her walls clench around him, signaling she was close. “Cum baby, I know you want to,” Olly growls. And as if it was on cue, you came. Your back arching as your walls spasmed around him. He thrusts a few more times, cumming into you also. His body falls limp on top of yours right after pulling out, wrapping his arms around you as he buries his head into your neck.
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deceptive-daydreams · 1 year ago
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The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)
Chapter Five - Hot Chocolate
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Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |
Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - "I go back to December all the time" - Back to December by Taylor Swift
Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader
8K Words
Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything
Author's Note: This was a hard one to write and get everything laid out correctly I'm not gonna lie but we are getting there!!
Masterlist
Prev | Next
“Roadkill”
Such a simple and–to be honest–gross word held such heaviness and uncertainty.  A new meaning you’d dare to even suggest in the back of your brain.  
Neutrality?  
No.  
Surrender?  
Couldn’t be.  
Pity?
Quite possibly.  
The man was pitying you and at the expense of your involuntary vulnerability.  You weren’t sure what was worse, him being so cruel to you for years and years after the night he ultimately made a decision—a decision that severed ties and forced you to build walls taller than one could believe—or the fact that he was feeling sorry for you because your best friend was willingly engaging with the enemy, which happened to be him and that made the atmosphere that much more sinister.
How could he venture as far to think that a damn cup of coffee would provide you any comfort?  If that was even his intention.  Maybe it was poisoned.  Cutting you out of everyone’s lives so him and Steve could continue whatever it was they were doing.  No, your thoughts were becoming unrealistic and to be honest, even with how exhausted you’d been the night before, you were restless, tossing and turning all the way into the early hours of the morning when you could just make out the faint hustling and bustling of Hawkins’ early risers.  Sleep wasn’t as kind to you anymore and you couldn’t remember the last time that it was.  
An inner monologue of push and pull threw off your rhythm, suddenly glued to the floor as you’re forced into the spiraling void–it almost felt like you were sixteen again at this moment, just as you did the previous night.  It felt bitter, more than likely resembling the steaming liquid in the cup before you.  Utterly bitter.  How could something once so sweet and innocent become so vile and foul?  Devastatingly horrid.  It was mocking you, that stupid little cup.  Chanting over and over that you had nothing left meanwhile he would remain unchanged, untouched, and unbothered.  
And within your seconds of insanity, you missed the whispers of Steve and Robin just outside of the room until they made themselves known.  Robin’s piercing blue irises held such remorse as they looked into yours but you offered no solace.  Her eyes rimmed with smudged black eyeliner and fingers trembling as they toyed with the string of her apron clutched in the other hand revealed that she was a nervous wreck.  Then again, so were you and you were the one with all odds against you, not her.  If she wasn’t the instigator she was the bystander, comfortable in your cluelessness until now.  
Then there was Steve.  Quiet, uncharacteristically quiet.  Head bowed as if he were a child being sent to his room while he tossed his apron over an empty chair.  The stillness in the room was discomforting and you weren’t going to settle for another second of it.  With work to be done and bills to be paid, you refused to let them take up any more of your valuable time.  If they had anything further to say, you weren’t listening, swiping your phone from the table top and brushing past the two of them, only leaving them with a small breeze as you passed.  The cup that had haunted you those few moments sat neglected on the crumby surface of the table.
The sight of Eddie preparing a coffee as you rounded the corner had you internally groaning.  Now you’d be forced to face whatever sick game he was playing at.  You wouldn’t engage in it but would he be smart enough to lay off?  To your surprise a customer had been waiting patiently next to the to-go counter despite the weather just outside becoming more horrific by the minute.  It was pouring, water smashing against the pavement with no mercy and as Eddie handed the small piping hot coffee to an older man in a well worn denim jacket and what seemed to be some navy coveralls underneath, the man tipped his head at you with a friendly grin to which you returned the favor.  
“You didn’t go on and put all that fancy syrupy stuff in it, right?”  The man grumbled at Eddie, narrowing his eyes.
“No, old man.  Now get outta my shop.”  Eddie rolled his eyes which in turn pulled an astonished gasp from you.  What you failed to catch was the way his face contorted into a grin and how the man chuckled as you began repairing the damages.
“Eddie!”  You scolded before returning your attention back to the man who seemed way too calm.  “Sir, I’m so sorry–”
“Darlin’ don’t go gettin’ yourself all upset.  My nephew ‘ere was just clowning around.”  The man’s voice was deep and a bit gravelly but welcoming nevertheless.
��Nephew…”  You pondered.
“Wayne.  Wayne Munson.”  He introduces himself, sticking his hand out over the counter to properly greet you to which you accept.  
His hand is rough, no doubt showcasing a labor intensive job that he seemed to have either come from or was just heading off to.  Gracefully giving him your name as he shakes your hand, you notice a few similarities between the two men.  You can’t quite put your finger on which features they share but they’re there aside from the bright blue eyes Wayne possesses, a stark contrast to Eddie’s deep coffee colored eyes.
“Listen, don’t let Ed ‘ere drink too much sugar.  Kid is a fiend for the stuff.”  There’s a playful gleam in Wayne’s eyes, his lips pursed in an effort to keep from laughing, a smile pulling at your lips in return.  “Swear he’s a sucker for those frap milkshake things.  He comes over to my place with more energy than the tasmanian devil–”
“Pops.”  Eddie glares at his uncle and there seems to be an understanding as he begins backing up toward the door, humor written on his face.
“It was nice meetin’ you.  Eddie ever gives you any problems you come ‘n get me.  I’ll set ‘m straight, don’t you worry.”  You can’t help but giggle at Wayne’s words and at this moment in time, it's as if Eddie isn’t some opponent but rather an old friend.  It was strange but you shook it off immediately.
“Thank you Mr. Munson.”  It was all you could say as he began to embark back into the cold rain.
“Sure, honey.  Son, you behave.”  He gave Eddie a stern point of his finger as his nephew waved.  “Oh and don’t go racin’ that damn bike around in this rain.  Supposed to get a bit of floodin’ so take the back way home.  Slow.  Hear me?”
“Uh huh, got it.”  Eddie replies as if he’s a teenager who thinks he knows better, a sigh falling from his lips.  “Get outta here Pops, you’re gonna be late.” 
With one last raise of his brow, Wayne was suddenly gone and you could just barely see him rush out to what appeared to be his truck, keeping as dry as possible.
The energy had shifted the moment he left and you were ready to put Eddie in a chokehold if you could.  An accidental slam of the back door notified you that Robin and Steve opted to go out the back, your head snapping in the direction of the noise only to quickly shift back to the man in front of you who was now counting out some change from the tip jar.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Relax, you’ll thank me later.”
“Oh-thank you?  No, put that back.”  You reached for the coins only to be bumped out of the way by Eddie’s hip.  He hadn’t even completely finished training and he was acting like he ran the place.
“Munson, if you don’t–”  You’re unable to finish your thought as you catch on to his intentions.  The register opened and he pulled out in cash what was represented by the change, tossing each coin into its respective spot and then shoving the cash into the tip jar, finishing off by shutting the register and turning to you with a smirk.
“Ta da.  Unless you would rather take the change.  You’re not one of those annoying people who pays in all quarters are you?”  It’s unbelievable, the way you have to hold back a laugh.  A genuine laugh that he spurred on out of nowhere.  But you manage to remain unbothered.  At least you think so.
“No.”  You answer, arms crossed, earning a breathy laugh from him as he continued to lean over the counter.
And then it was silent.  Only the violent patter of rain on the windows and the faint jazz playing through the speakers filling in the gaps.  The lights casted a comfortable glow among the shop and Eddie continued to check off items on his training checklist placed in front of him.  You could bathe in the absence of his voice except you insisted on keeping it chaotic and you didn’t understand why.
“Why’d you do it?”  Well you only had yourself to blame if this blew up and turned into another argument after you insisted that this would be a night of avoidance, just work.  No talking.  No trying to reason.  That motive went down the drain the second you dared to ask the question.
His head snapped up from his current task, looking up at you curiously as he was still bent over the list.  Brown curls draped over the paper and you should tell him to pull his hair back but you don’t.  You figure it’s because you’re too occupied in being mad at him but something is telling you that the way they fall in front of his face is far too perfect.  
“Do what?”
Everything.  Everything that led us here.
“Hook up with Steve.”
A glance down at the pen he was using and a click of his tongue later he provides a response.
“Think that’s something you need to take up with Steve.”  He decides.
It’s not the answer you’re looking for and you both know it.  A shaky exhale leads him to believe that this isn’t something you’re going to drop, your eyes glassy as they stare directly into his.
“Stop it.”  A frown is now etched onto your face, the kind that you can’t control because you know you’re about to cry and you’re just trying to hold back.
“Stop what?”  He’s well aware he needs to stop playing dumb.  That he needs to man up and accept responsibility for everything because truly, all of this traces back to him.  But he is his father’s son.  At least that’s what he always chalks it up to.
“Stop trying to divert me to Steve.”  A single tear wins and escapes down your cheek only for you to rapidly wipe it away, sniffling back the others that were building up.  You were not going to cry again.  “You hurt me just as much and you’re the one with the reputation.”
The statement stung because it was true.  It burned like salt in a wound and all Eddie knew was that sting over and over again and again.  It was the story of his life.  With you.  With his childhood.  His adolescence.  He had reputation after reputation and he couldn’t seem to stop making a foul name for himself, further proving to everyone what a delinquent he was.  Except there was one person throughout all of it that never once fed into that narrative.
The Previous Night, Eddie’s Trailer
The slam of the fridge door and the sound of a fresh beer being cracked open wasn’t an uncommon sound within the Munson trailer.  Or at least what is now Eddie’s very own trailer just a few down from the one he grew up in which now only housed Wayne.  Metal blared from the speakers in the confined living room that practically shared the kitchen if you took a few more steps.  Slumping down on the beaten up couch, Eddie cursed under his breath as he sat on a pencil wedged in between the cushions, more than likely from a DND session last week.  This was his daily ritual but somehow it was different.  Angrier.  Soul-stirring.
He should go to sleep, the clock on the outdated stove read 11:00 PM which in theory isn’t very late however he would despise himself in the morning for not cherishing his sleep as he worked at the garage at 7:00 AM with bags hanging from his face.  But even if he did lay down, two beers in his system to aid him in place of melatonin, it would be no use and he would remain in the solitude of his trailer wide awake.  Tonight it was particularly bad due to the events that transpired earlier.  Steve asking him to hook up again and him accepting even though he knows he shouldn’t, it would only fuel his disaster of a life.  That’s what he told himself and as it turns out he was right.  But what kept replaying in his mind and plaguing every thought was the way you cupped your face in your hands for that brief second before disappearing around the corner to your apartment.  The look of despair in your eyes when he told you to get out.  He was a self destructive force that should never be unleashed upon anyone and yet he let the fallout ruin everything and ultimately, unleashed it upon you all this time.
As he remained a lump on the couch, he thought about how he couldn’t keep doing this anymore.  Be miserable.  Be the reason for your hatred.  He didn’t want to do it anymore and that’s what he told himself every time but without fail he sabotaged every good thing that ever happened to him.
So when Wayne receives a specific combination of knocks at his door at 11:05 PM while enjoying a night off watching old western movies, he knows either his nephew got locked out of his own trailer again or he needed him.  And when the door swings open to reveal a choked up Eddie with damp hair from the rain, Wayne just knows.
“What’s wrong, son?”  
Eddie doesn’t need permission to enter yet he remains at the doorstep, rain collecting on his eyelashes as he looks at his uncle with large lost eyes.
“C’mon, get inside.  You’re gonna get soaked out there.”
Wayne tugs on the sleeve of Eddie’s black sweater, not roughly, just enough to lure him into the warmth of the trailer.  Enough to keep him out of the rain.
“What happened, son?”  Wayne tries again.
There’s a distant look in his nephew’s eyes as he stands in the middle of the living room, and before Wayne can assess the damages and figure out what might be troubling him this time, Eddie interrupts.
“Why am I–why–am I–the way I am?”  The words don’t come out easily and it's as though he’s still searching for more to say.  “Why is there so much–wrong with me?”
There is no way to explain the twist in Wayne’s stomach.
“Why–why do I act like him?”
No explanation is needed when he says it.  Wayne just knows.
“Ed, quit that.”  It’s not said unkindly but rather in an attempt to steer him from those thoughts.
“No!  Why do I keep becoming more and more like him?”  The question is genuine, he just wants to know and though Wayne won’t have an answer, he still can’t help but ask.  His eyes are burning with unshed tears and all that flashes through his mind are images of you from earlier in the night.
“Son, you listen to me.”  Wayne’s hands grip Eddie’s shoulders, firmly but reassuring, his blue eyes wide with empathy.  An old western movie continues to play in the background, long forgotten in his nephew’s sudden need.  
“Who made you think that?”
Eddie wants to sink in on himself, become dirt and just blow away in the wind.  He’s so sick of this constant cycle.  He acts out, makes people hate him, pushes them away, and then turns to self loathing time and time again.  It was old, he’d admit that.  But he couldn’t stop, it felt like it was embedded in his DNA at this point.  And every time Wayne would be there to gather him up and still treat him with dignity even if he didn’t deserve it.
“Me!”  He shouts, hands running through his hair anxiously.  “I-I can’t stop.”  A sob is held back until after he weakly repeats himself.  “I can’t stop.”
Wayne doesn’t hesitate to pull him in and hold him close, letting him cry into his shoulder.  And if that’s all he needed then that would be fine.  But Wayne would give him the world and he wasn’t sure if Eddie quite knew that despite showing him over and over.  Before Wayne can run his hand down his back in an effort to comfort him, Eddie is pulling away again.
“She hates me.  I hate me.”  Eddie’s ringed hand reaches up to collect some fallen tears, trying to regain a fraction of his composure.
“Who?”
“Who do you think?”
“Ed, is this still about that girl from high school who works at the coffee place with you?”  Wayne sighs, running a hand over his sparse hair.
All he receives in response is a nod.  A sad and defeated nod.
“Well, it don’t help much that you won’t tell me what happened between you back then.”  His uncle gives him an apologetic shrug.  Suddenly gun shots sounded from the TV, cowboys shouting over them throughout the living room, urging Wayne to grab the remote and select mute.
“Wayne–”
“Look, all I know is you keep saying you did somethin’ pretty bad.  Not bad enough to tell me I guess, but is it bad enough that you’re both so bent out of shape ‘bout it this many years later?”
Eddie tries to come up with an answer but Wayne continues, doesn’t even give him a chance.
“And if it is that bad, why don’t you man up and apologize?  Why you givin’ this girl so much damn grief over a mistake made by a damn stupid teenager?”  Wayne finishes with a finger to Eddie’s chest.  He knows his nephew fragile right now but he’s tired of hearing vague details about him and this supposed girl that he can’t let go of because he ‘fucked up a really good thing really bad’.  And how they apparently can’t stand each other to this day.  He finds that maybe this time Eddie needs some tough love.
“Because I’m just like him, isn’t that why?”  Eddie seems to try and make sense of it himself, his features contorted into uncertainty as his brows draw together.
His uncle stares in disbelief, knowing better than anyone that Eddie is nothing like his father.  Not by any means.  Eddie has always been a timid boy hidden underneath a loud and outspoken exterior harboring more complications than the typical kid.  Sure he seemed to let his anger get the best of him at times but in no way did he release it in ways only his dad could.  At most he’d snap, say something a bit mean but he’d always come back and apologize.
“You aren’t.  Quit spewing that shit.  You know you aren’t.”  While the remark may seem harsh, his tone carries compassion.
“No I don’t.”  Eddie hates himself for whimpering like a kicked puppy.  “She thinks I’m some monster and I haven’t given her any reason not to think that.  I just keep pushing it until-until I make her upset or-or cry.”  Chest heaving, Eddie sits on the edge of the couch, the bridge of his nose pinched in between his fingers as he works to control his breathing.  “She’s right though.  I am a monster.”
“Boy, you’re no monster.”  Wayne settles next to his nephew, knees cracking and joints groaning beneath him.  “And you ain’t like your dad.  Not one bit.  Never were.  Think you just need to learn to control yourself when you get riled up.  And let good things happen to you.”
The advice resonates but Eddie is still prone to self sabotage so he’s not sure how to keep himself from digging himself into holes like he’s a dog having a hay day.  He’s not even sure he’ll ever have a chance at declaring a truce with you.  That ship seems to have sailed long ago.
“I don’t think I know how to.”  He admits, voice wavering like a terrified child.
“Well, then at least you know the problem, right?  Take that and learn.”  Wayne was always pretty straight forward and in a sense, it was very grounding.  No bullshit, just the truth.  “And if you care ‘bout someone, and it seems you care a whole lot ‘bout this girl, don’t you think it’d be better to own up to your mistakes and make nice?”
It’s so simple yet so difficult.  Yes, he wants to make nice.  It’s all he wants.  But he’s made himself into some kind of villain, feeding your depiction of him as some heartless asshole who only thrives on bloodshed.  But ultimately his uncle was right and he knew that before he’d even said anything but sometimes, it takes the right time and the right place for things to click.
Present day
“You hurt me just as much and you’re the one with the reputation.”
There Eddie stood, wanting to fume with anger, craving the adrenaline of just lashing out because it’s what he knew best.  But he couldn’t be that guy anymore.  It was miserable and lonely and it just wasn’t fair.  The fact that his uncle made an appearance only further encouraged him that he shouldn’t live in his self hatred, that he should man up and do the right thing.  Even after so long.  Even if it was too late.  And he had a slight suspicion that Wayne’s visit was calculated.
A nervous tongue poked out to lick his chapped lips, gaze darting between your eyes and your fingers now fidgeting with a pen, clicking it repeatedly.  Any other time he’d tell you to knock it off.  You were growing uneasy at his mellow demeanor, not used to seeing his face so relaxed, always familiar with his furrowed eyebrows and pupils that contained a fire, frown usually engraved into his face with you around.
“I know.”
Two words created a disturbance in the air, the nature of it still unknown as two minds considered the weight it carried.  The most shocking component of it all was that he didn’t appear as if he was internally searching for an out, scrambling to take his words back and replace them with something awful.  There was no evidence of backtracking from sentimental words, no sign of reversing and throwing it right back in your face.
I know.
What was the true scheme behind it all?
I know.
Was he admitting to his wrong doings?
“What do you mean you know?”  You try to force him to clarify but before he can even provide any further information your mind screams at you to keep questioning.  “And what the hell was that in the break room?”  It’s said with such defense, walls up and ready to protect your delicate heart.  “What are you playing?  Is this some kind of sick fucking game?  Again?”
Had he really fucked up your perception of him so bad that you were standing before him swirling into insanity at the premise of him taking the first step and acknowledging his mistakes?  Millions of words tug at his tongue but none of them make it out as you storm into the back and he’s sure he’s just made the situation that much worse.  Maybe things were beyond repair, he was naive to think that there was any chance of undoing even a fraction of the destruction he caused.
Of course things were beyond repair, he’d be an idiot to think there was redemption somewhere on the horizon.  Even if it was millions of miles away at least it would have been there.  He supposes he only has himself to blame.  No.  He does only have himself to blame.  Where was the change of heart though?  He was trying to add it all up.  Was there ever a change of heart even?  Or was it always the same feelings disguised, creating an armor that only managed to hurt others?  And now he was growing out of it, realizing that he couldn’t hide forever, couldn’t watch himself be the man he was starting to become.  He had to stop being a boy.  A stupid emotionally stunted boy.  His past didn’t grant him a pass to treat others how he’s treated them.  Though he couldn’t just patch things up, he could sure as hell try and learn from his mistakes and use that to his advantage.
He doesn’t even know how long he’s been in his head when you come racing out from the back, familiar coffee cup in hand and face twisted in disgust.  It’s shoved into his line of sight, the black ink spelling out the letters just inches from him, your hand shaking the beverage as some sloshes out of the little hole in the lid and nestles a fat drop onto your thumb.
“What is this!?”  You shout, practically begging for an explanation.
“What is what?  It’s a drink!”  He’s forced to stand straight at your insistence.
It catches you off guard, the way that there’s no sarcasm laced in his response.
“Stop it.”  Again, you’re pleading with him but you’re not quite sure what for.  The drink trembles in your hand, still floating a bit too close to his face.
“Stop what?”
It’s as if you’re repeating the same conversation in circles, creating a tornado of confusion and heart ache.  Pulling at emotions and plucking them like the strings of a guitar.
“Dammit, Eddie!  God fucking damn it!  Why are you doing this?!”  You were crying again and you’d never forgive yourself for letting him see you cry so much within the past twenty four hours.
“Doing what?!  What am I doing?!”  There’s something lingering in his eyes, something sad, and his shoulders are slumped as if almost defeated.  This was not the man you argued with time after time and it was messing with your psyche.
“Tormenting me!  What the fuck is this?!”  Voice strained, you continue shoving the drink in his face.
The storm outside seems to agree with your outburst, only growing more intense with every one of your heightened emotions.  Eddie glances from you to the drink and then lands back on you, trying to approach the situation differently than he normally would on autopilot.  He assesses your exterior and gathers that you’re visibly distressed.  Shaking, tears streaming down your face, lip in between your teeth, gnawing on the skin.  How could he ever say such atrocious things to your face all those times if this was the result?  Granted, you didn’t allow him to see it and you always scurried off before you could provide any proof of damages left by his words.  And now here he is trying to breathe.  Trying so desperately to not say the wrong thing as he’s done so many times.  Trying not to react in the way that you’d expect him to.  He’s piecing your words together–tormenting.  Tormenting.  The cup just a hair away from his face continues shaking violently.  The writing on the cup.
Oh.
“So now you shut up?!  What is this?!  Cause I’m not understanding the mind fuck that is you and Steve and Robin and why I’m the butt of some gigantic joke that–”
“Hot chocolate.”  
Oh he really was a dumb boy at the root of it all.  Failing to realize that at the base of your agitation over a beverage was insecurity in the fact that it seemed no one was on your side and even the mere idea of the ‘enemy’ offering anything remotely resembling a peace offering was considered a threat.  The sadness in his eyes only grew at the sight of you before him and at the realization hitting him.  Your next word came out fatigued, breathy as if you’d finally given up on your vocal cords.
“What?”
Though there wasn’t a lot of bark behind your tone, your gaze mirrored everything.  How horrible he was.  How convoluted and fucked up everything had become over time.  Your eyes were portals he was looking into, seeing himself from past, present, and even future.  He didn’t like what he saw.
“I-uh, it’s–it’s hot chocolate.”  Eddie swallows hard, fingers nervously twisting his rings.  “You asked what it was.”
He swears you soften for the quickest second before tensing back up, slamming the cup onto the counter next to him which causes even more of the chocolatey substance to spill over onto the pristine dark granite.
“Munson, I’m gonna ask you one more time.”  You suck in a breath and he’s not sure how to gauge your emotion this time.
“What.  Is.  This?”  Your finger points at the writing scribbled on the cup.
Now it was really confirmed that he was a stupid boy.  And the way the corner of his mouth twitches upward only makes you fume, fists clenching at your side as you glare up at him.  He was really getting a kick out of this and you wanted to punch him.  Except something was off in the way his eyes glimmered, where there would usually be a touch of mischief, there was something unfamiliar, something kinder if you’d dare to even trek that far.  But you wouldn’t.  Couldn’t. 
“Roadkill.”  He mumbles more to himself than you, eyes focused on the cup.
“Are you fucking high?”  It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary to assume however he still turned his head with offense in his expression.  But he let it go.
“Roadkill.  You’re Roadkill, remember?”
“Stop it!”
You’re beginning to think he’s even more evil than you were led to believe in the first place.  Why was he toying with you?  Suddenly he’s facing you, gaze softer than you’ve seen in a long time.  There was a gravity to him, you felt like you had no choice but to let it pull you in.  That sweetness to him years ago was faint in the air and it felt as though you were clinging to it.  Clinging to something, anything that would let you feel tiniest bit normal again.
“No.”
No, what did he mean no?
“No?”  You keep yourself grounded in your inquiry, wading in the sweetness while still weary of your surroundings, your face remaining serious.
“You don’t tell me what to do.  I think we both know that by now.”  Usually the statement would be said with such malice and disgust but the attitude was absent from his tone and there was a trace of an authentic smile tugging at his lips, dimple almost visible.
You were in awe, why was it as though seventeen year old Eddie was standing before you again?  Why did it feel like your stomach was bubbling with giddyness like the teenage girl you once were?  This wasn’t right, it wasn’t in the script, at least, that’s how it felt.  No, this was a show of some kind.  If everyone was against you, Eddie would surely use it to his advantage.
And yet he stood there with round eyes and a subtle smile awaiting your response, any response.  All you could see was the boy with charming dimples and curly hair and it was ruining your current perception of him, even after all he’d done, all the damage he inflicted.  A heavy exhale released from your lungs and you seemed to snap out of your trance.
“I–um–I have to…”  You didn’t seem capable of finishing your thought as you stepped away, suddenly far more interested in cleaning the espresso machine.  That was fine by him.  If it meant he didn’t scare you off crying again then he would take it.  And while the bar was still on the floor, he was determined to raise it at your pace.  The vandalized cup remained atop the counter, a token of his new objective.
The Harrington House, December of Junior Year
“Steve, you are such a cockblock!”
“Nance, it was Eddie The Freak Munson!”
“Yeah, I’m gonna agree with Nancy here.  Total cockblock.”
The two girls nitpicked Steve’s approach to tear you away from Eddie’s hypnotics, claiming they’d never seen a look like that in your eyes ever before and yet Steve inserted himself which led you to excuse yourself to the bathroom as the two conducted a deal.  Once Steve had what he wanted, Eddie banished himself to the basement which you had caught just as you stepped out from the bathroom, now only seeing Nancy and Robin scolding Steve.  For what, you weren’t sure but it wasn’t abnormal so there wasn’t much thought to be put into it.
“Where’d Eddie go?”  You ask innocently, linking an arm with Robin as you try to make sense of the distaste on her and Nancy’s face.
“Basement.”  Steve shrugs, earning a more intense glare from your friends.
“I’m gonna go find him, he owes me a–”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”  Steve’s hands find his hips, staring at you like a parent which only makes your blood boil.
You hated when he got like this, overprotective and over stepping into your private endeavors.  He was almost like a big brother, inheriting the position since freshman year.  At times it was welcomed but in circumstances like these you just wished he’d back off.  He and Eddie didn’t get along and Steve did little to hide his repulsion.  It was the classic jock versus outcast trope and it grew very old very fast.  Knowing how much you liked Eddie, he tried his best to keep his comments to himself but again, there wasn’t a lot of effort put forth.
“Steve.”  It didn’t take a genius to know that the way you seethed his name meant that he should excuse himself for a ‘time out’.
Mumbling your name, he tried one last time to reason with you.  “Anyone but Eddie Munson.  Please–”
“Steve.”
“He’s a lowlife, how’s that going to work out for you–”
“Steve!  Enough!”  Nancy reinserted herself, face tinting red.
“You really wanna go for a drug dealer?”  Steve continues, Nancy smacking his chest with her palm.
“Steve Harrington.  You quit it and you quit it right now.  How would you like it if they said the same thing about you when we got together?”
You were grateful for a friend like Nancy.  She seemed timid and shy at times but wasn’t afraid to put a man in his place.  You only wished you could possess that kind of power.  That seemed to shut Steve up, his lips forming a tight line as he glared toward the basement.
The air was stuffy and cloudy, skunky and smelled of tequila.  The basement included a toss up between the stoners in the corner and soon to be frat boys occupying the pool table.  They seemed to ignore each other and coexist just fine however you wouldn’t be surprised if every now and then a jock would intrude on them to poke and prod for some free weed.  Over exaggerated boyish yells erupted in the room, causing you to cover your ears.  A few girls lingered around, their boyfriends practically groping them in front of everyone but none of them sober enough to comprehend it.  The music booming upstairs trickled into the room but didn’t overpower it, the bass mainly taking over as it vibrated through the entire house.
The wood paneled walls should deem the basement outdated however Steve’s parents did well at keeping it feeling up to date and it almost didn’t feel like it was built in the 80’s.  It was dim, some multicolored lights decorating the molding at the very top of the walls and an overhead light hanging above the pool table that didn’t do a very good job at illuminating much, however it contributed enough for the party scene.  A frown pulled at your face as you searched around for Eddie but you had no success in finding the metalhead.  No shaggy curls in sight.
That is until the sliding door leading outside opens, pulling your attention toward it, answering your silent question of where Eddie had gone.  There he was, stepping inside with his signature black lunch box in hand, cheeks dusted pink from the biting cold outside.  Your heart couldn't seem to remain at a steady rhythm at the sight.  Although you’d just seen him minutes ago upstairs, he took your breath away all the same as when you first laid eyes on him across the room over the blaring music.  Tucking some cash into his front pocket, his eyes met yours, pausing his movements to grace you with an endearing smile that had your breath hitching.  You had no shame in sauntering up to him as he leaned against the door frame, the two of you nestled in the corner opposite of the group of stoners.
“Hey, you.”  You greet, cartoon hearts just about floating over your head.
“What’re you up to, trouble?”
“Me?  Trouble?”  Batting your eyelashes up at him, he was willingly in the palm of your hand.
“Yeah, you.  Most trouble I’ve ever seen.”  
There was a smirk playing on his features, charm dripping from his every word that only left you captivated.  His eyes were heavy but not due to substances.  If anyone were to pay any mind to the two of you, they’d see you were drunk off of each other.  No amount of pills or powder could create such an enchantment between two individuals, not like this.
“I could say the same about you.”  You say it so shyly, so quiet and yet he’s hanging on to every syllable.
“And you’d be right.”
“I–I was thinking–”  
Before you’re able to finish you shut yourself down, your sentence fading into nothing as the jocks behind you proceed to cause another uproar in their game of pool.  The smidge of confidence you had was gone.
“Thinking what?”  Eddie encourages.
“Oh, um.  Nothing, it’s nothing.”
A mischievous glint crosses his eyes as he leans toward you and if your nerves weren’t shot already then they definitely were now because his breath was fanning over your cheek and his distinct smell was invading your nose.  Something cinnamony and minty.  He was chewing gum, oh god he was chewing gum and he looked so hot while doing it.
“Did you come find ‘lil ‘ol me to smoke?”  Those big beautiful brown eyes swirled in honey hues remained heavy, lashes creating perfect shadows over the apples of his cheeks.  His eyelids were lazy but in the way that he was comfortable and dazed in this one vision, his sole focus on the way that you brought your finger up to toy with your lip nervously.
“Well I–I mean only if you w-want to.”  You were beginning to get self conscious and suddenly, all you wanted to do was dart upstairs and run into Nancy’s arms.
“Hey, I extended the invite, didn’t I?”
A rush of relief washes through you as he grins down at you.  Like a flip of a switch, you no longer wanted to run off to Nancy.  No, you’d rather stay in the newfound comfort of the basement.
“And then you just roll your thumb—there you go!”
The flame sparking to life from the lighter slightly burned at your thumb and your first instinct was to react and even tilt the flame closer to your thumb due to your inexperience.  A few lessons with Eddie changed that and you were now aware that you just needed to roll your thumb and keep the lighter upright, that way the flame wouldn’t singe you.
“It’s gonna burn my finger–it’s gonna burn–”
“No it won’t, see?  Just hold it like that and the flame isn’t gonna go anywhere near your finger.”
“Okay.”  You sigh, holding the lighter as still as possible in the air.
The bean bags you sat on made it difficult to keep still as you leaned back into the pliable pillow, your hand beginning to shake as you pulled your thumb from the little metal wheel, wincing.  The secluded spot just underneath the basement stairs was still within reach of the party however it was out of the way enough that no one would bother you.  Eddie lounged in his own respective bean bag, long legs splayed out across the carpet while he twirled the unlit joint with his fingers.  While you should have recommended smoking outside, you couldn’t be bothered when it was so icy and cold just beyond the frost coated sliding door, the warmth of the Harrington home wrapped around you like a hug and you refused to leave its embrace.  How could you bring yourself to care about the smoke embedding itself into the furniture when a whole smoke circle was happening right across the room and Steve seemed to have no issue with it earlier?  So what was just one more small smoke session initiated between a pair within the wooden walls?
“See, you got it.”  An alluring grin was offered, giant bambi eyes consuming your every movement.
“What do you mean?  My finger slipped.”
“Try again.”
For all you knew, it was only the two of you in the basement, that’s how enamoring he was.  It was unbelievable how everything was playing out, how for once things were going well for you.  A boy was showing genuine interest in you.  A boy you had been pining after for the last year and a half.
The pad of your thumb dug back into the little metal wheel, creating a bigger indent in your skin but you didn’t seem to mind.  The flame sparked once again and your eyes lit up with it.
“You definitely got it, you’re a pro now.  Just needed a little practice.”  Sweetness was drenched in his tone like honey drizzled over the freshest pastry.
No response came, your hot cheeks and a bashful smile directed down to your lap were all you could muster up.  You could feel his gaze on you, his head ducking to try and crack your shyness.  For a split second you felt a daydream come to life, a reality where Eddie may reciprocate your feelings but you quickly pushed it away.
No.  That’s not how things went for you.
Eddie was handsome.  Older.  Only by a year but it still contributed.  More experienced.  Had to have been.  Though you’d never seen girls hang around him you were sure he had a decent amount of experience, how could he not?
And you were some prude.  At least according to the higher social class of Hawkins High.  Specifically the jocks Steve still tolerated.  It was certainly none of their business whether you’d decided to put yourself out there or not however no one seemed to find anything wrong with the comments they made.  “Smile, babe.  If you’d smile every once in a while we might be hanging all over you.”  Gross.  They made you feel gross.  “C’mon, give us a smile.”  Embarrassed.  “Why so shy?  A sexy lil thing like you gotta get outta that shell.”  Violated.  By words.  It was worth noting that anytime these words were tossed your way and Nancy heard them, she would step up to the plate and defend you.  She had no problem but it never stopped them from continuing, they even went as far as to sexualize both you and Nancy.  As much as you tried not to let it get to you, it always lingered in the back of your mind that you were not enough.  Too shy.  Too timid.  Not up to your full potential since you wore clothes that hide your figure more than enhanced it.
“You okay?  We don’t have to smoke if you don’t want to.”  A gentle voice breaks you from the overbearing thoughts, the vicious cycle of internally tearing yourself apart at the male perception of you.
“Y-yeah.  Yes.”  It comes out breathy, almost as if you’d just run a marathon.  Cause in your minds it’s like you had.
“Listen, we can just save it for another time–or–or not.  If y’know, you don’t want to anymore–”
“No, no!  I still want to.”  A delicate hand rests on his forearm, something you’d usually scold yourself for doing but there was a comfort in the leather underneath your fingertips.  And there was his gorgeous boyish face, soft but slowly becoming more adult in every passing month.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Eddie playfully squints, eyeing your face for any hesitation.
“Okay, okay.  You light it.”
“Wha–no!”
“C’mon, just like I taught you.”
He grabs the lighter from you, sparking it quickly before returning it to your clammy hand.  Maybe you should’ve taken one more shot before subjecting yourself to the humiliation that is getting high in front of Eddie.  Sure you’d smoked before but it was always in a controlled environment with Steve, Nancy, Robin, Jonathan, and Argyle.  Always on the deck just outside.  Who knows how you’d behave in front of someone you were head over heels for.
“Oh shit, wait before we do that–”  Eddie plucks the lighter just out of your grasp once again, clutching it in his palm as he pushes himself forward, closer to you, knee brushing against yours.  “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Me?”  You perk up, your finger poking your own chest as if you were in disbelief.
You can’t seem to grasp that this is your reality as he leans even further forward.  It’s probably for help on homework.  Stop getting your hopes up.
Except something in the back of your brain persists, a hope–an intuition that the way he’s looking at you isn’t just the way a boy would look at someone just to seek homework answers.  Not that you would know but your gut was screaming at you that this was it.  It was always difficult to imagine a boy desiring to kiss you but for that split second it seemed very plausible.  It scared you.  Terrified you.  But in a way that was more exhilarating and had you anticipating every small movement, analyzing each twitch of his fingers as they rested on his thigh, the way he fidgeted with his lighter, it consumed your every thought.  And the moment you dared to glance up at his chocolatey pools of eyes, you’d become putty, melted caramel pliable only by his hands at this point.  His gaze held such care.  Something you’d never experienced by a boy before.  The slope of his nose suddenly became your favorite thing to look at aside from his giant sparkling irises.  It felt like every interaction with him before now just made sense.  His lingering glances, dimpled grins only reserved for you when you happened to see him across the cafeteria, every playful eye roll in O’Donnell’s last year when she attempted to snap at him for whispering some funny story over your shoulder,  each thumbs up he offered with a turn of his head as almost a question on days when you looked particularly down, all the times his voice would crack at the most inconvenient time and his face would go red, everything, everything, everything.
“Yeah, you.”  
It’s said with such sincerity.
“Okay.”  
The softness in your voice almost has him on his knees.  Until a not so soft voice burrowed its way in between the tenderness of the conversation.
“Well done, Munson.  Looks like you’ve won yourself a hundred bucks.”
~end~
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