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lostinwildflowers · 1 year

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Iced Tea Kisses

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Rooster and you have known each other for a long time and he casually asks you on a date after being platonic friends for years.

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: Fluff, very very very slight angst if you squint, just two goofballs in love

A/N: This is my first time writing for Rooster, so hopefully I did him good! I'd love to hear feedback because I've got a couple of other Rooster ideas in my drafts!!! Please enjoy!! -Birch<3

It was an unusually calm night outside of the Hard Deck. Yes, it was the middle of summer and the sun was blistering hot, but with a decent amount of cloud cover and the ocean spray catching the wind, it was a peaceful day.

The regular crowd was gone for the weekend, the chance to go see their families giving them the opportunity to get out of dodge in the blink of an eye.

But you were a local, and you enjoyed spending time outside of the naval bar, reading down by the water as the sun set over it. You were friends with some of the naval aviators, specifically long-term best friends with none other than Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw.

After his father had passed away when he was young, Carole had him transfer schools, where Rooster met you and you became his best friend almost immediately.

Over the years, the two of you formed a very close and tight-knit friendship, as you were one of the only people Rooster had after his mom passed away. Thus, when everyone left town, the two of you stayed behind and hung out.

The sun had just started to set, and even with your shades fighting off the bright rays as you tried to read, you still had to squint at the pages to follow along with your book.

Next to you, Rooster was fiddling with the small cooler of drinks he'd managed to snag from Penny at the bar, reaching for iced tea to try to cool himself down.

Rooster, being himself, donned what most would call the ugliest shirt known to man, the bright reddish pink and yellow flowers splattered all over the green base of the Hawaiian shirt. The shirt was completely unbuttoned, exposing his abs and muscular pecs.

You did your best to focus on your book because while you weren't blind and you knew your best friend was hot, you'd seen him shirtless plenty of times over the years.

You could hear Rooster fumbling with the ice in the cooler, and blinking away from your book, you ask, "You need help over there?"

A small chuckle is your only response, and the sound of ice crashing before Rooster turns to you with a wide smile makes close your book and look at him.

"Iced tea?" he asks, offering the drink to you as his aviators slid down the bridge of his nose. You smile back at him and say, "Only if you didn't break my glass of lemonade for later."

Rooster's smile drops and he tugs the drink back toward his bare chest, the sides of his shirt gently flowing in the wind. "Ooo, might need to get a rain check then, you see, I had to put it out of its misery for trying to steal my iced tea."

A snort falls from your lips as you set your book down and face him, an eyebrow quirked at him as you quip, "You had to put it out of its misery? Did it try to attack you or something?"

Rooster shifts his weight forward, and looking over the brim of his glasses he whispers, "It did. You missed it, but it tried to cut off my right hand, so I did the only thing I could do."

At the same time, you both say, "Fight back." A moment of silence passes between the two of you before you both erupt in booming laughter, your hand coming up to swipe the iced tea from Rooster's hand.

But he's always one step ahead of you, and he lifts it above your head as he tuts, "Nu-uh, Y/n/n! This one's for me!" You struggle to your knees to try to grab at the cool drink, giggles still falling from your lips.

Rooster turns his body away from you, swapping the drink to his right hand as he chuckles, trying to keep you away from the last living drink from the cooler.

"Roooooooster," you call out in between giggles, your hands still trying to grasp at the drink. Your knee slides in the sand under you, and your right-hand flies out to catch yourself as you go down.

You end up catching yourself on Rooster's shoulder as your body weight pushes his back into the sand. The drink in his right-hand lowers as you fall into him, and his left wraps around you so you didn't whack your head on the cooler.

"That's my name," he mumbles cheekily up at you as try to catch your breath from all of your laughter. The drink was no longer a thought as you gazed deep into his hazel eyes, his shades having fallen into the sand a little ways away.

It's still around the two of you, minus the waves and the occasional call of a gull off in the distance. Rooster looks divine laying under you like this, his hair was longer than usual, the curls just barely beginning to be bleached by the sun.

His gaze was soft as he looked up at you, and before he could stop himself, he whispers, "Go out with me." His stomach drops as the words leave his mouth, and your reaction is similar.

You don't move from his lap as you stare down at him, your cheeks getting warm as you push your sunglasses from your nose up into your hair to keep it out of your face.

"No," you say, shaking your head. In reality, you wanted to lunge forward and shout yes, yes, yes! from the top of the world, but he was your best friend. There was no way you could do that to him, you couldn't ruin your friendship.

Rooster frowns and you think your world is about to implode for a second, but then a smirk returns to his lips as he says, "Why won't you go on a date with me, huh? Scared you'll like it or something?"

A huff falls from your lips, and your head falls to rest on Rooster's chest in practiced ease. You can feel Rooster's grip on you tighten, and when he squeezes your waist a few times, you pull back and look at him.

His gaze is serious, and you suddenly feel butterflies bloom in your stomach with the way he's looking at you. Rooster glances away, setting the iced tea down next to the cooler.

"Y/n, I want to take you out with me," he mumbles, his now free hand coming up to brush a piece of hair behind the end of your sunglasses. You shake your head once and say, "Roo, no, you don't. If we did this- if... if I say yes, we can't ever go back to the way we've been."

Rooster smiles lightly as he cups your cheek and replies, "But I don't want to be where we've been. I want a future, with you, and broken lemonade glasses. Days where I can come home and hug you, kiss you, make love to you." At the end of his sentence, he playfully wiggles his eyebrows, eliciting a soft giggle from the two of you.

He sighs as he tugs you closer and whispers, "I want you." You swallow thickly as you move your hands from his bare chest up to hold his face. His mustache tickles your hands as you run your thumb along his cheek, and you smile quietly for a moment before you nod.

"I want you too," you whisper, leaning into his touch, your nose barely brushing against his. You take a deep breath before cracking a wide smile and busting out, "As long as you promise to not break anymore of my lemonades!"

Rooster groans and leans back, falling flat against the sand. You giggle at his reaction but squeal when he pulls you to his chest. His hand releases your face, and with impeccable timing, he digs his fingers into your sides, tickling you mercilessly.

Cries and laughter fall from your lips as you wiggle helplessly in his arms, your limbs flailing in all directions. "Okay, okay, okay, I'm sorry!" you cry out as you catch one of his wrists.

You sigh as his attacks stop, giggles still escaping you as you reiterate, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I ruined your moment." Rooster smiles and leans back into you as he mutters, "Just as long as you'll promise me a thousand more."

You lean deep into him this time, your nose bumping against his as you whisper, "Always." At that, he makes the final push, and his lips land on yours in a soft but sweet kiss, the taste of iced tea on his tongue sending your mind into overdrive.

Ever so slightly you shift in his grasp, and before you know it, a cold liquid is running down the side of your legs. The both of you pull away from the kiss and roll away from the imposter, seeing the iced tea Rooster had set down just a few inches away, now laying on its side, the liquid poured out across the sand.

You turn back to Rooster and you mumble against his lips, "Now it's not only another lemonade you need to get me," and you fall back against his lips.

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rainylana · 1 year

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“Come on, my little crybaby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: hot day in hawkins. eddie shaves your legs, you play in shaving cream and the water hose, then have sex in the woods.

warnings: language, so much fluff it might make you throw up, eddie shaves reader’s legs, stereotypical differences in men and women about shaving, quoting from the graduate, sex in the woods, giggly sex, teasing, decrophylia. i gave eddie christopher as a middle name lol.

taglist!

@phantomxoxo @imdoingbetternow @imabadarsebard @fionnthebandersnacc @eddiemania @eddiemunson @ohlovelyhollow @tessiemessie @rovckwells @lillianofliterature @delilahtaylorsverson @aa-li-yah @ches-86 @xx-hospitalforsouls-xx-blog @catherinnn @flowers-and-tsukki @your-starless-eyes-remain @kellysimagines @blowing-mikey @underthebatcape @noturmom15 @supercalifragilisticprincess @tripthlightfantastic @itiscj @edzmunsonswife @hearts4laura @ultimate-sdmn-trash @chaos-incorp @livasaurasrex @mic429 @averysblog @antigoneidk @avobabe87 @lexthemess21 @nothisispatric @heeyitsg @genuine-possum @imangy @fvcking-gxddess @kneelforloki @actuallybarb @justaproudslytherpuff @no0neknowsm3 @cosmic-lavender @bellasfavoritesweatpants @cheri86 @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @ahzysauce @softyutae @kaqua

1987 would be known as the hottest summer in Hawkins, Indiana. There was never not a day where the sun was bearing down without a single cloud in the sky for coverage. And to make matters worse, mostly everyone’s air conditioners weren’t working to the city damaging electrical towers, so everyone in town had to suffer.

Most kids and parents spent their days at the city pool or playing in the hose out in the yard, or get drunk at the bar. The ac didn’t work at the bars, either, but people still went. Eddie’s trailer had to have been the most scorching place all of town. After all, he lived in a tin can for shits sake. There were box fans all over the living room, but that only blew hot air around, so it didn’t do much to help cool anyone down.

Eddie worked a few days at the radiator shop with Wayne, while you worked weekends at the library in town, so you both spent most blistering days squished together in the kiddie pool in his back yard with cheap, packaged lemonade he found in his cabinet. You couldn’t exactly go fully nude in public, but you’d get as close as you possibly could without the law being called.

Today, Eddie was sprawled out on the living room floor in just his blue checkered boxers, skin sweaty and sticky, dark curls glued to his neck and shoulders. The tv was playing the price is right in the corner, and you, had one leg propped up on the sink as you shaved your legs, dots of white shaving cream decorating the floor. Your hair was tangled in a fallen bun, your clothes, or lack of, only being your short biker shorts and a black sports bra.

“Goddamn, son of a bitchin’ piece of fuck.” You muttered under your breath, struggling with your balance as you shaved under your ankle.

Eddie cocked his head to look over at you, blinking away sweat. “Cut yourself again?”

“No.” You huffed. “Just don’t like doing this in here.”

“Why can’t you do it in the bathroom?”

“Because it’s too fucking hot in there.” You sent him a glare, one that made him roll his eyes as he sat up dizzily. The heat made everyone feel sickly. He coughed as he stood, wiping a bead of sweat as he came up behind you.

“Here,” He took the razor from your hand. “Sit. I’ll do it.” He gave your ass a light tap as you twisted and lifted yourself onto the counter tops. He put his hand under your knee and you pressed your foot against his rib, your leg streaked with shaving cream and water. He turned on the sink for a moment to wet the razed, bringing it up to your thigh and slowly dragging it down.

You hummed in satisfaction at being able to relax, leaning against the cabinet doors as you admired his naked chest. “Being a woman sucks.”

He chuckled, going over your knee. “That right?”

“Yes.” You grumbled through sweat. “You men don’t understand how difficult it is. We have to shave everything, and I grow back so damn fast I have to basically do it everyday.”

“Well, you know I’d still love you if you had harry legs.” He caught your eyes with a smirk, leaning over to rinse the razor under the tap. “Don’t matter to me if you want to rock a seventies bush or not. You never complain about mine.”

“You’re just saying that.” You crossed your arms, jutting your lip out in annoyance. You raised your brow as he put your left leg down and picked up your right. He was surprisingly very good at this. “None of my exes would be interested in having sex with a ten foot yard pole if I wasn’t completely shaved.”

“Yeah, well your exes were assholes, babe.” He raised a brow at you for a moment. “You can be as harry as you want to be with me, sweetheart. You know I don’t give a shit about that stuff.”

You grew flushed under his stare, feeling embarrassed. He waited until you nodded before he went back down to your leg. You went back to admiring him, thinking about how good he was to you. The bulge beneath his boxers was prominent, and you eyed it shamelessly. A bead of sweat dripped down your exposed stomach, and you shimmied uncomfortably in the heat.

“If you want me to finish, honey, you’re gonna have to stop staring at me like that.” He didn’t look at you to know that you were ogling him, a small smirk tugging at his top lip.

You grew increasingly aware of just how close to naked the both of you were, even though that was pretty much your normal attire for the past few weeks. Still, his crotch was only a few feet in front of yours, only covered by shorts that barely covered any skin. “Just admiring.” You said with a playful shrug, sneakily reaching your hand back to grab the bottle of shaving cream.

“You mean distracting.” He shook your leg to keep you still, squinting his eyes in concentration as he inspected your skin for more hair.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing as you noisily squirted more into your hand. “Need some more of this?”

“Yeah- maybe just on your thigh right th- ooof!” The loud splat of the shaving cream in your hand landed smack dap in his face, covering his forehead and his nose, white dots on his lips.

You howled with a laugh that shook your shoulders and you dropped the can, the look of pure shock and awe on his face.

“So that’s what I get, huh?” He placed a hand on his hip, bringing up the other to attempt to wipe of the disaster. “Try and help my girl out and I just get mistreated. You’re a real brat, ya know?”

You fake pouted and jutted your lip. “Aww, my poor baby, come here.”

“No, huh uh!” He jerked away in playful defiance, grabbing the small hand towel by the stove. “I see how it is.”

“Oh, come on, you crybaby I was kidding!” You tried to keep from laughing, hopping down from the counter to step up behind him.

“Eddie- AH!” You screamed and jumped when shaving cream was smacked across your lips, smudging your cheeks and dripping down your neck. “What the fuck!”

Eddie beamed happily, sticking out his tongue and placing his hands on his hips. “Suck it up, crybaby.”

You cringed and spat out with a shake of your head. “Ugh- gross! That shit got in my mouth!”

“Aww, my poor baby, come here.” He mocked you, taking a step, but only to smother your face with the white foam on his hands. He cackled as you screamed, smacking your ass as he bolted out the door.

“You fucker!” You yelled through giggles, practically loosing your balance from the force of his hand. You slipped on your footing as you tried to chase after him, face bright red through giggles as you followed after him. “Eddie!” You ran down the steps, wincing when you stepped on the gravel with your bare feet. You payed no mind to the fact you didn’t have much covering.

You ran around into the backyard, the blades of grass hot under your skin. You continued to wipe away shaving cream of your body when yet again, you screamed. You were knocked down again when Eddie sprayed you with the hose. The hose on full blast. “Eddie!” You screamed from the ground, jaw hung open in dismay. “What the hell!”

His hair was wet on the ends from spraying you, and he blew on the end of the hose like he was putting out the smoke from a hot gun. “If you’re gonna mess with the master, sweetness, you’re gonna have to up your game.”

While the water felt nice, you weren’t done playing around. “Well, are you at least gonna help me up?” You craned a brow.

He chuckled and tossed down the hose, holding out his hand for you. Halfway pulling you up, he let go, sending you back on your ass. You yelped and watched as he reared his head back in laughter and took off down the backyard hill towards the woods.

You couldn’t even say anything, just gasping in shock as you struggled to stand. “Edward Christopher Munson!” You chased after him.

You almost debated going back for shoes when you stepped over rocks and limbs as you entered the woods. You and Eddie spent a lot of time down there. Even spent the night sometimes by the creek. It was romantic. And while a lot of the trailer park kids went down there to play, you pretended it was your own special place. It was grassy and mossy on the fallen tree trunks and rocks, and dandelions decorated the forest floor.

“Eddie!” You twirled around with a smile. “Come out, come out, wherever you are!” You already knew he was trying to scare you, and you shivered slightly from the cold water now that you were in the shade. “Eddie!”

“Boo!”

You jumped when his hands grabbed your shoulders, twisting you around and pushing you back until you pressed up against a tree. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, locking your lips together as he knocked your knees apart. You kissed through smiles, sweat and leftover shaving cream. His tongue swiped over your teeth and he pushed his torso between your thighs, making you groan from his erection. You grabbed his hip and pushed yours against him, fisting his curls tightly.

“Somebody’s happy to see me.” You reached down palm him through his boxers. “Seducing me down here to get your dick sucked, Munson?”

He littered kisses on your neck, biting softly when you lightly squeezed his cock. “Oh, baby, you’d know if I was seducing you.” He licked the shell of your ear. “Would you like me to seduce you?”

You erupted into giggles that made him smile against your skin, and you rolled your hips into his as tree bark scraped against your back. You were sure you’d have blood when you were finished.

You moaned sweetly in his ear, your stomach fluttering to life that made your head spin. “When do- ah, when do you think the ac w-will be back on- on?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He chuckled, pulling away to push your hair out of your face. “Ac units get you going, do they?”

You never felt insecure with Eddie. Not really. But still, self doubt always crept it’s way in from time to time. You blushed deeply and he saw your eyes flash for a moment. You looked nervous.

“What’s wrong?” He narrowed his eyes, thumb tracing your lips.

“Well,” You swallowed, briefly glancing down. “I’ve not- well, I didn’t finish shaving. You know- well- down there.”

He stared for a minute to see if you were messing with him, then he rolled his eyes. “Shut up.” He brushed your hands away to kiss you passionately, tilting your head back onto the tree. Your noses squished together and your tongues tangled. He reached for your thighs and gave them a light tap, signaling you to jump.

You quickly discarded your shorts and panties and jumped, your bodies slick and wet with lust and perspiration.

“God, I love you.” He husked against you, barely pushing down his boxers so he could pull his cock out. “And your hair.”

You whimpered as he lined his cock with your slit, adjusting his hold with you. “I love- oh,” You saw stars when he pushed into you, your muscles pushing and pulling to adjust to his girth. “Fuck, fuck,” You winced, gripping his shoulder.

He pressed his lips against yours to shut you up, and thrusted into you slowly to give you time to adjust. He kissed you slow and sweet, rocking your gently. You wrapped your arms around his neck to hold him close, tears already brimming your eyes at the fullness in your belly.

“You’re so good to me.”

He smirked at your shaky voice, his lips against your jaw as he put more force into his hips. He reached up to grab hold of your arm. “Because you’re my good little girl.” He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted sharply, and you squealed as your bare back scraped against the back, your bra being the only protection you had.

“Oh, fuck!” You yelped, your legs shaking with his pace. He grunted hotly into your ear, holding your hip in place to keep you from squirming so much. You hoped to god no kids would come down for an afternoon swim, because you were not being discreet whatsoever. You panted loudly through tears that leaked down your neck.

Scratches and small cuts formed on your back with each thrust, your stomach coiled and you whimpered loudly when his rough hand came down to your clit. You didn’t feel insecure about your pubic hair this time. Eddie’s eyes pierced into yours, glossing over from ecstasy and pleasure. He pressed his forehead against yours, thrusting harder and needier, sloppier as his orgasm got closer.

“Eddie, I’m- god, I’m gonna cum-” You sobbed, eyes fluttering open and close. You felt blood drip down your back, your skin stinging.

He nodded quickly, gasping as he kissed you hard. “Cum with me.” He rubbed quick and sloppy circles on your clit and you shook and cried, your body convulsing as your orgasm took over. Your eyes went blind and you hyperventilated in his arms, legs around him squeezing as his cock shot his load into you.

“Fuck.” He cursed, biting your shoulder as you squeezed his cock. Your tears hit his shoulders, and you almost thought you were going to faint from how quick your head was spinning.

When he moved to pull away, you squeezed his arm. “No, don’t.” You swallowed. “I don’t think I can stand.”

He laughed breathily and kissed at a tear, nodding.

“And I think my back might be bleeding.” You patted him, eyes closing from exhaustion.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” He gently pulled out of you, causing you to wince at the emptiness. “Turn around, let me see.”

You shook your head. “Can’t stand, Ed. M’ serious.”

He chuckled and tucked himself back into his boxers, picking you up gently to carry you back up to the house. You laid your head on his chest and smiled. “Come on, my little crybaby.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie munson smut #eddie my boy #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

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crippledwithrage · 10 months

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I'm somewhere between a B and A cup, so I'm on the smaller side of chests. I've tried different methods of taping and all it did was make them not jiggle when I walked- like a tape bra.

This method, however focuses on the pec shape rather than flattening perfectly.

I came up with it after wasting half a roll of trans tape on other methods, but this one really helped me!

All bodies are different so don't be afraid to experiment with different styles!

Make sure ur musty ass is clean when you put the tape on or you'll be taping over dirt and sweat which is going to give yourself an infection.

Here's a tutorial I found on larger chests and bodies!>>> https://youtu.be/USNvHelRBoU

When making the anchor (the part that sticks to your skin before you pull the rest of it) make sure it's flat and attached well using heat and friction.

(Round the fucking corners of the tape! It gives more traction! )

The first strip is 3 segments and starts near the bottom of the breast where the skin folds over, and pulls up towards the armpit diagonally.

Be sure to pull up first. If you pull down, it may damage the tissue and make top surgery impossible.

The second piece pulls downwards diagonally from the top towards the bottom of the ribs at the back (near your floating ribs). Make sure it doesn't wrap all the way to your shoulder blades.

(That way you can reach It to take it off properly)

It's important not to do this backwards because you shouldn't pull down! It should look like pecs, but remember, cutting board flat is unrealistic and dangerous!

The skin will itch in the middle so feel free to use anti itch cream to alleviate.

Remember > the tissue may be more dense like mine which makes this using transtape frustrating.

Again, feel free to alter it if it doesn't work.

If you have sensory issues, be aware of your boundaries! You can feel the tape on you but don't be afraid to say that it doesn't feel right.

Adjust it or try a different binder. Fytist is the best for sensory friendly binding.

With tape, you'll be able to feel your shirt on your chest and back when using transtape too, so that's something to get used to.

Wear a heavy jacket or sit against something to make that odd sensation go away.

I'm disabled, and I have issues with my oxygen levels so breathing properly is a must. Binders can make it hard to breathe and cause joint pain which is a bitch of a time for me. In the summer, especially, since they get hot.

Binders work for me, luckily, but this method of tape allows for clear breathing.

No squeezing sensation and free range of movement.

It minimizes pain, and allows me to breathe freely as I would with nothing on. If you have breathing problems and can use tape, I highly suggest this.

You can sleep in this stuff and use it for 4 ish days. If it hurts or pulls, or even blisters, take it off! It's better to have a bad day than to live with a mistake forever. Bind safely!

This is for those of you who feel like they're not "flat enough ". Markipier is a cis man and I personally love that he never hides that his chest is somewhat fuller. He has pecs and wears tighter shirts, and this is literally the norm for men. This is the shape you should be going for, not cutting board flat. Most men aren't flat anyways.

When in dysphoria, remember markipier!

Lastly, if you can get cutting board flat, be sure to check if your method is safe and that you're not pulling down. If it's safe, congrats! But I will find you and I will delete your minecraft worlds if you bully others about their chest.

Stay safe out there, queers!

#trans #ftm #transgender #trans ftm #disabled #neurodivergent #lgbt #trans tape #chest binding #binding tape #binding tips #safe binding #nonbinary #enby

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classickook · 2 years

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in the afterglow | defender strange

pairing: defender strange x fem!reader

summary: when the sanctum’s seals malfunction, coating your home in a blanket of white, stephen offers an unexpected remedy to heat you back up.

warnings: smut (18+), kissing, cockwarming, p in v sex, creampie, swearing, stephen is a bit of a soft!dom here

word count: 2.9k

a/n: there's basically no plot to this so enjoy the smut, besties! i’ll probably go back and edit later lol

your morning did not start off well.

apparently one of the seals to the rotunda of gateways had malfunctioned—how? you had no idea—and of course it had to be the very door that lead to siberia where a blistering storm of sharp ice crystals and blizzarding flakes charged their way into the sanctum and swept across every surface.

stephen had checked the series of doors as soon as he (literally) caught wind of the slip-up and recast the seals, ensuring they were done correctly, but it was too late. the sanctum was a winter wonderland in the middle of summer and there was no way to speed along the melting process as there was far too much snow and ice that coated the furniture, walls, and floorboards.

stephen requested wong’s assistance to cast every spell known to the mystic arts in an attempt to return the sanctum back to normal, but it appeared there was only so much magic could do.

you would have to wait, the normal way, for the ice to melt.

what was the point of magic if it couldn’t solve all of your problems?

after hours upon hours of useless attempts, stephen had finally relieved wong of his duties and encouraged him to return to kamar-taj until the sanctum’s seals were firmly restored and the ice had melted. as sorcerer supreme, stephen shouldered the responsibility of monitoring the sanctum in the meantime. he had offered the same option to you, suggesting that the warmth and comfort of kamar-taj would be far more pleasant than the frosty tundra of the sanctum, but you insisted on staying with him.

stephen allowed you to stay, though he worried about you being too cold or possibly developing hypothermia the longer you were exposed to such icy temperatures. you had teased that you were lucky to be dating a doctor, but he didn’t seem to find the joke very amusing when it was at the expense of your health and safety.

he chose for the two of you to spend the remainder of the day in your shared bedroom, the sorcerer anxiously flitting about and making adjustments to ensure it would be as comfortable as possible, given the circumstances.

a scarred hand waved over the fireplace until the wooden logs sparked to life, igniting a warm glow throughout the room that fought its way past the arctic environment. he also conjured up a bowl of steaming soup and mug of hot liquid that smelled faintly of hot chocolate for you in an effort to at least warm up your belly. you smiled at the gesture and at the way he fretted over your well-being.

doctor stephen strange, master of the mystic arts, sorcerer supreme, and member of the defenders was a total sweetheart.

even after downing both the soup and hot chocolate, it still wasn’t enough to heat you up completely, the after effects only lasting so long.

“still cold?” stephen asked from his armchair. he had positioned it in front of the fireplace along with the sofa you were currently lying on, but it wasn’t quite enough.

you nodded in answer to his question, noticeably shivering despite the oversized blanket draped over your shoulders.

he pouted in thought before an idea popped into his head. “let me warm you up then,” he said with a conspiratorial grin as he stretched out his arms and beckoned you toward him. “come here, sweet girl.”

you tightened the blanket around your figure as you stood from the sofa and crept your way across the cold floorboards until you reached stephen’s chair. you shivered again as you waited for him to instruct you on what to do next. “well?” you asked, teeth chattering audibly.

“come here,” he repeated, spreading his legs to you and then patting his lap expectantly.

you arched a brow but did as he said, moving closer until you stood between his legs. you balanced your hands on his shoulders as you positioned your thighs on either side of him, easing down onto his lap while his scarred hands guided you with gentle touches against the backs of your thighs. his head tilted back to watch you, his cerulean eyes intense and unwavering. once you settled onto him, stephen then wrapped your blanket over the two of you, forming a sort of cocoon of warmth and safety around you as your body hunched into his.

he experimentally rocked his hips up into you and you released a shaky breath as you felt the hardening bulge between his thighs brush against your clothed slit.

“that’s my good girl,” he murmurmed. “do you trust me?”

you nodded, the top of your head just barely visible from where you were nestled beneath the blanket.

“good,” stephen said with an affectionate laugh as he began to untie the strings of your sweatpants, “i’ll warm you right up.”

“how are you going to do that?”

his lips twitched at the corners. “i might have an idea. lift your hips for me, baby.”

you did as he instructed, rising just enough for him to slide your sweatpants and panties down in one swift motion. your cunt clenched as the cold air nipped at your skin, feeling wholly exposed and even colder than before. “how is this going to warm me up?” you whined.

“patience,” he said before pushing down his own pants, his cock springing free from the confines of his underwear, until the two of you were bare at the waists. his hands spread your legs open as he pulled you onto him, a sharp hiss pushing past your clenched teeth at feeling his hardened cock nudging at your entrance. “trust me,” he coaxed gently. stephen then thumbed at your clit, his fingers surprisingly warm as he played with you, loosening your muscles against the frostiness of the air. ��feel okay?”

you bit your lip and nodded silently, relaxing your abdominals as you felt him slide past your walls and stretch you open. the ministrations of his fingers against your clit must have done the trick because he easily slid inside you without any trouble or discomfort. he was always so fucking good with his fingers; he could turn you into a puddle of goo within seconds, it seemed.

“mmm,” you hummed as your eyes fluttered closed, basking in the warmth that started to unfurl in your lower belly. “feels really good, stephen.”

“good,” he said, obviously pleased from the way the skin beneath his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at you. he gently grasped your chin between his thumb and index finger, beckoning you down to meet his awaiting lips. he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling back with a frown. “your lips are freezing, baby.”

“warm them up then, doctor,” you said teasingly, referring back to his earlier statement.

he playfully nipped at your chin before slotting his mouth against yours, his lips surprisingly soft and warm despite the sanctum’s frigid temperatures. his tongue slipped past the seam of your lips and delved inside, licking into your mouth and eliciting a delicious heat to spread throughout your body.

“how are you so warm?” you murmured against his mouth, tightening your grip on him and bringing your body as close to him as humanly possible.

“i might have used a few spells to help,” he said with a mischievous grin. “anything i can do to warm you up.” he adjusted his hold on you, coaxing your limbs to wrap around him. “just think of me as your personal heater.”

you hummed as you tucked your hands beneath his shirt to soak up his body heat.

in turn, stephen’s hands crept beneath your sweater to make contact with the soft skin of your back, the rough calluses and scars scratching lightly, though not painfully, as he rubbed circles along your back in an effort to spread more warmth into your frigid form. you felt a twinge of heat radiating off of his palms, far warmer than what would be considered normal, especially given the circumstances, so you assumed he was using some sort of heating spell. maybe magic was good for something, after all.

your cunt stretched around him and you basked in the feeling of his cock filling you up, stuffing you completely until your walls quivered and squeezed him further inside, locking him into place. you had never been this intimate with him before. sure, the two of you have had sex numerous times, but this was something entirely different; instead of fucking each other to completion, you moved soft and slow, barely doing anything, actually.

stephen groaned as you subconsciously clenched around him. “you feel so fucking good, baby.”

“so do you.”

he breathed out a laugh, rubbing your hips and then pinching you there lightly.

you peered up at him from where you were tucked into his side, admiring the mole on the column of his throat and the sharp angle of his jaw on display thanks to his ponytail. you certainly liked the style, especially tugging on it playfully (or not so playfully), but you would always prefer his hair loose. decidedly, you reached up to release his ponytail, the salt and pepper hair you loved so much falling to his shoulders like glistening silk, and then secured the hair tie around your wrist.

he chuckled at your antics, the sound of it shooting down your spine. “better?”

you nodded into the crook of his neck, smiling to yourself as his hair brushed against your cheek.

you basked in the comfort that he offered you, feeling warm with him buried inside you and wrapped around you—up until he shifted his hips without warning, that is. you rolled your hips in retaliation, but moaned at the sensation, wanting to rock against him even further until all you could feel was him.

he tsked softly. “hold still, baby.”

“stephen, i can’t—”

“yes, you can,” he cooed in your ear. “my baby can do anything, can’t she?” his teeth left blossoms of purple and pink along the underside of your jaw as he nipped and sucked at your skin. “my sweet girl,” he rasped.

“please, stephen.”

“please what, baby? not warm enough yet?”

you shook your head against his shoulder.

“use your words,” he chided you. “what do you want, sweet girl?”

“want you to warm me up,” you mumbled.

“and how would you like me to do that?”

you chewed at your bottom lip. “i want you to make me cum.” your cheeks flamed at being so openly vocal about what you wanted him to do to you. you weren’t used to it, but stephen would always want to hear you say it, nonetheless.

“what was that?” he asked cheekily. you knew he heard you the first time, smug bastard.

“make me cum, stephen.”

“good girl,” he said proudly, then lifted your hips off of him until he was almost completely out of you before guiding you back down, rolling his cock into your wet heat in lazy strokes. you moaned as he moved you to rock against his lap, doing all the work while repetitively pulling you up and down, his hips lifting to meet you, sinking further into your cunt each time.

this wasn’t fucking, you realized in your blissed-out state; stephen was making love to you, taking time to worship your body, achingly slow and sweet. you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face.

“what is it?” stephen asked, speaking past the deep groan rising in his throat at feeling you so tight and warm around him.

“nothing,” you breathed.

“tell me, baby.”

you bit your lip. “you’re making love to me,” you admitted sheepishly.

stephen’s hips paused, his cock twitching inside of you. “i always make love to you.”

you shook your head. “this is different. i can’t explain it, but it feels different.”

“good different?” he asked with an almost nervous edge to his voice.

you hummed in agreement. “a very good different,” you confirmed, leaning forward to press your lips against his. “i love you, stephen.”

you felt him smile into the kiss. “i love you, too, sweet girl,” he replied, and it tasted like honey on your tongue.

your hips stuttered as if paying no mind to the heart-to-heart you were having with stephen. his grip on you tightened in response. “please make me cum, stephen,” you repeated against his lips.

the corner of his mouth pulled up into a smirk. “gladly.” he continued his ministrations, hands gripping your hipbones as he shifted his hips up into yours.

your mouth opened in silent pleasure, loving every second of what he was doing to you, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as he gradually sped up the pace. “stephen—”

“that’s it,” he cooed. “that’s a good girl. cum on my cock, baby. show me just how good i’m making you feel.”

a low moan bubbled its way up your throat at his words and the way he was moving inside you, his cock kissing your cervix as he breached the spongy tissue that always made you see stars.

with one final stroke, a flash of white suddenly clouded your vision as heat rushed from the roots of your hair to the tips of your toes. “fuck, stephen,” you whined pathetically and tugged on his hair in an effort to ground yourself.

your orgasm didn’t rip through you like a vicious current as it usually did when the two of you had sex, this time, it felt like the steady climb up a hill, creeping its way up to the top until it surpassed the peak and glided back down in sweet relief.

stephen quickly followed right after, a deep groan pushing past his lips and the vibration of it rumbled against your chest as you felt your combined arousal leak out of your cunt from where he was stuffing you full, cum dripping from between your legs onto the chair beneath you.

the sound of stuttered panting and the squelching of your joined bodies filled the otherwise silent room. “god, y/n,” he choked out, “you’re so fucking perfect. look at that,” he said, tipping your chin down to glance at where the two of you were connected and how his cum pooled between the cradle of your thighs.

heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks at the obscenity of it, but your cunt clenched once your brain caught up and processed what you were looking at.

obviously, stephen felt that. “fuck,” he hissed as you clenched around him again. his cock had already started to soften inside of you as the two of you settled in the afterglow of your orgasms, but you still felt so full of him, like he was touching every inch of you, and your body ached for him to move again; your brain, however, wasn’t quite up to it.

your eyelashes fluttered against the tops of your cheeks as your vision grew foggy in your blissed-out state. “sorry,” you said sheepishly, ducking your head beneath his chin.

he chuckled into your hair. “don’t apologize, baby. just give me a few minutes.”

you quietly giggled into the crook of his neck as you relaxed into him, releasing a sigh of contented relief. “i don’t think i can go again. ‘m too sleepy.” your eyes fluttered closed as drowsiness settled over you.

“yeah? you tired?” the deep baritone of his voice brushed against the shell of your ear.

you silently nodded, lovingly rubbing your cheek against the scruff of his beard.

“ready to go to bed, then?”

your head shook back and forth this time. “don’t wanna leave you,” you mumbled as you lazily clung onto his neck with your remaining energy. you felt completely relaxed and drained, ready to be coaxed to sleep but not wanting to be separated from him.

stephen chuckled before standing from his chair, arms tucked under your bare ass as he coaxed your legs to wrap around him, fingers digging into the fat of your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, eliciting a sleepy whine to escape your lips.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you.” he somehow managed to walk the two of you over to the bed, flicking his fingers in a quick motion that pulled the sheets and blankets down, the soft material looking so inviting to your spent form.

he sat on the edge of the bed with you still attached to his lap. you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck and sighed sleepily. “i have to clean you up, baby,” he whispered in your ear.

you barely managed to hum in response, but he took it as a sign to continue. he gently pulled out of you, eliciting a hiss from you once the heat of him was gone, but he quickly replaced it with a warm cloth, wiping away the mess before tucking you beneath the covers. he snuggled up behind you and wrapped a strong arm around your waist, fingers lightly tracing along the sensitive skin of your belly and kissing your shoulder.

“warm enough now?” he asked softly.

you nodded, hair brushing across your pillow as sleep pulled you in, the snowy landscape of the sanctum long forgotten now that you were blissfully warmed by your coupling, the crackling fireplace, and the arms of your lover.

stephen strange taglist: @singhfae @ironstrange1991 @slvtforstr4nge @strangeobsessed @lucywrites02

let me know if you want to be added/removed from any of my taglists!

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i05wook · 9 months

Text

Summer Sickness - Park Sunghoon

pairing: gn! reader x bf! sunghoon

genre: fluff, established au, romance, comfort

wc: 249

summary: It's the middle of summer and god knows how you've managed to fall sick.

author’s notes: thank you so much for the second request Stella!! i hope you enjoy this drabble as well <3

The middle of summer was fast approaching, each day becoming blisteringly hotter than the last, and yet here you were buried deep under the multiple blankets of your boyfriend’s bottom bunk.

Piles of tissues overflowing from the bin beside you, empty blister packs of tablets lay scattered across the bed sheets and nightstand. You’d been bedridden for the past three days, your body absolutely exhausted trying to fight off this summer cold.

"Are you warm enough darling?" Sunghoon asked you as he entered the room, with a fresh, hot bowl of chicken noodle soup which he managed to persuade Jay to teach him to make whilst you were napping. “I’m warm enough Hoon, stop worrying. It’s just a cold silly,” you tried to reassure your ever so doting boyfriend as he placed yet another blanket over you, before he sat down on the edge of the bed.

He insisted on feeding you the soup himself, wary of you exhausting yourself by lifting a spoon to your mouth, when really he actually liked the feeling of taking care of you. After there were only a couple of spoons of soup left in the bowl, you began to feel full and indicated this to Sunghoon. He placed the bowl on the nightstand and began to stand up off the bed until you reached out your arm towards him, grabbing him lightly by the wrist.

"Will you cuddle with me Hoonie?"

And who was he to refuse you when you were sick?

status: open

@bambisgirl @enhacolor @acaiasahi @duolingofanaccount @slytherinshua @redm4ri @enluv @jaelaxies

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luthien-under-bough · 10 months

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🔥Hot Daemyra Summer Prompt Fics 🔥

Prompt fics written for @/anamazingangie's HotD Summer Snippets & Stories event. [ao3 collection here]

Week One:

Tension / My Prompt Fic

Daemon gives Rhaenyra a massage.

Reflection / My Prompt Fic

Daemon helps Rhaenyra to see what he sees in her reflection.

Storm / My Prompt Fic

His Grace, Viserys I Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm had never regretted anything more immediately and more thoroughly than he did storming into his daughter’s room unannounced. -or- Five times Rhaenyra and Daemon welcomed an unexpected guest into bed, and one time they didn't.

Sparkle / My Prompt Fic

Pop star Rhaenyra Targaryen is interviewed by Southron Court magazine on the eve of her new album release.

Cloud / My Prompt Fic

They lay in a meadow beneath the slopes of the Dragonmont, braiding crowns of wildflowers. One day, Daemon placed one on her brow and named her Princess of Dragonstone. Rhaenyra giggled madly as he knelt before her, bowing his head and proclaiming that he would ever serve as her sworn shield, her protector. Then he called her his princess — his wild princess — and the bubbling laughter in her chest gave way to a blistering sort of pride. A feeling she did not yet have the words for, but would later understand to be her pleasure in being possessed by him, in being claimed. -- In which Rhaenyra spends her summers on Dragonstone.

Week Two:

Shield / My Prompt Fic

Rhaenyra is struggling with breastfeeding newborn Visenya. It's a good thing she has a husband who is willing to do anything to help ease the stress.

Stitch & Blood / My Prompt Fic

Amidst the salt and smoke of Dragonstone, they cut their palms, sliced their lips, and spoke their vows in the only tongue that could feel like an oath to creatures of Valyrian blood. When they shared a kiss, Daemon sucked drops of blood from Rhaenyra’s lip, and his whole body shivered with pleasure.

He needed more.

Burn / My Prompt Fic

When Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen takes her throne, she demands a special oath of fealty from Daemon.

Haunt / My Prompt Fic

Rhae Targaryen and her friends consider themselves amateur ghost-hunters, visiting all the locales in Westeros rumored to be haunted. To date, they haven't had much luck meeting any ghosts or ghouls or otherwise supernatural entities. Rhae herself has always been something of a skeptic, but when the gang's latest adventure brings them to Dragonstone, she encounters a figure from her family's past who changes everything she thought she knew.

Week Three:

Rough / My Prompt Fic

Rhaenyra didn't mean for her uncle to overhear her confession during a game of Truth or Dare, but she can't say she's disappointed in how it turned out.

Silk / My Prompt Fic

Now normally, Daemon wouldn’t answer the phone right in the middle of fucking, but it’s Rhaenyra’s name that pops up on the screen, and that’s enough to still his hips in an instant. It’s two a.m. It’s Saturday night—well, Sunday morning, actually. No matter, there’s only two reasons anyone calls at this ungodly hour: either she’s in trouble, in which case he’s duty-bound as her favorite and only uncle to respond—or it’s a booty call. And Daemon will happily kick out whichever flavor-of-the-week warms his bed if his sweet little niece is finally bold enough to openly proposition him.

Wing / My Prompt Fic

Daemon is happy to host Rhaenyra while Viserys is out of town, but he is woefully unprepared for his favorite niece to get her first period while under his care.

Gift / My Prompt Fic

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne, is afflicted with a strange and seemingly incurable malady that has her speaking in tongues, and thrashing so madly she must be chained to her bed. The maesters and septons alike are at a loss to treat her, so the king must turn to his last hope option: his estranged brother, living in exile in Volantis—Valyrian priest, Daemon Targaryen.

Ink / My Prompt Fic

Well-to-do, the beneficiary of a deep well of family money, in possession of an ample amount of charm, Daemon Targaryen never had to work very hard for anything. His elder brother was the steward of the family, the one responsible for shepherding them to continued prestige. Daemon was just along for the ride, entrusted with precious little, save for the expectation of upholding the family’s image. But when tragedy struck, Daemon inherited the family estate, the family business, and the full weight and burden of their ancestry. Seemingly overnight, Daemon’s entire life was thrown into tumult. And perhaps most bewildering of all was that Daemon inherited a child.

Week Four:

Signature / My Prompt Fic

Daemon gets drunk on a boys' night out - and decides to demonstrate his love for Rhaenyra in a rather permanent way.

Investment & Swallow / My Prompt Fic

Rhaenyra begged her parents for lessons. That’s too expensive, darling, they told her gently. And she could see they truly were sorry. Being two school teachers who married for love did not leave them with a great deal of disposable income. So Rhaenyra did what any enterprising young lady would do—she went to her rich uncle. --- In which Daemon funds Rhaenyra's education, and expects certain things in return.

Squeeze / My Prompt Fic

“You’re spoiled, Princess,” Daemon said as he moved to her other ankle. “Grown so accustomed to getting whatever you want. Free to flit about the castle as you please.” He gave the rope a hard tug, testing the bindings until he was satisfied she could not slip free. “Let’s see how you fare when you cannot move at all.” --- Another small council meeting, another punishment for Rhaenyra.

Peak / My Prompt Fic

When Rhaenyra was a little girl, her uncle Daemon was the best at taking care of her when she was sick. He read her stories, hoping to distract her from her symptoms while her cough medicine took effect. He made her soup and brought her tea and ginger ale and let her sleep in his big bed, while he slept on the couch. He tucked her in, and promised she would feel better in the morning. And she always did. --- In which Rhaenyra comes down with the flu, and uncle Daemon comes to take care of her.

*dividers by @ saradika

#daemyra #hotd #hotd fanfic #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #prompt fics #my fics #HotDaemyraSummer

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miraclecereal · 9 months

Text

MagiGal

Chapter 1

[Author’s Note: I’m not the best as buildups but oh well.]

When you’re young, everything is extraordinary. Rene remembered when she got her first phone. It was a hand-me-down from her sister, it was slow with a large crack in the top left corner yet it was new and exciting to her.

Now the phone lie in the shoebox underneath her bed along with all the other things her sister had given her. The phone is no longer as high tech and futuristic as she once thought it was.

She remembers looking out the window with amazement. The smell of gas and old food mixed with screaming children and scolding chaperones was overstimulating, but in such a way a child could tolerate. It was exciting because she knew where the bus was taking her. It was taking her to a place where she could be with her friends all summer, a place of competition and learning about the nature around her: Summer camp.

Rene remembers when her sister was a junior camp counselor at the summer camp. She would look at her sister with dazzling eyes. To her child brain, her sister was the epitome of cool and mature. Now she’s fifteen and when the summer ends, she’ll be a freshman in high school. Much like her older sister, she’s returning to summer camp to be a junior camp counselor.

Looking around the bus she can see some familiar faces from both elementary and middle school. There’s a lot of new faces too. Some girls who are talking with friends or looking out the window with determined faces.

The bus takes a sudden stop and she looks out towards the camp. It was no longer the beautiful, nature palace she once thought it was. It was only slabs of jagged wood that somehow formed stable cabins and a canteen. There were no children running around, at least not yet. The junior camp counselors came a couple of hours early to set everything up for the little kids. Rene wasn’t exactly excited to be doing errands in the blistering heat. She wanted to curse her parents to sending her out into the bug infested wilderness to do some glorified babysitting on a whim but she knew they were only doing it because they were worried about her.

Rene steps out of the bus with all the other teens who are enthusiastically talking to each other. Even in the morning the air is hot and suffocating, she can already feel a bug crawling up her arm.

The magic had worn off, she was no longer a child. This was no longer a magical place of play and exploration. Why couldn’t she just be home? Getting her bag out from under the bus reminded her of being in an airport. She couldn’t understand how all of her peers could have so much energy.

For a few minutes the group of teens talked amongst each other until a whistle blew, revealing a tired looking adult wearing the ugly yellow shirt the summer camp’s crest on it. “Welcome junior camp counselors.” Despite the tired look in her eyes she still tries to appear friendly with a smile. “Here you will learn about leadership and responsibility. We promise to teach you skills that will help you in your day to day life as well as important survival skills.”

With how her eyes dart down to her clipboard, it’s obvious she’s reading off of a script. The woman uses her free hand to motion to the name tag stuck to her shirt, it’s decorated with yellow stars. “My name is Amanda and I am one of the counselors here. If you need anything at all you come to me or another camp counselor, we’re here to help and make this enjoyable.” There was something about Amanda. She wasn’t intimidating but she held herself up with confidence. She looked plain, plain enough for people to pass by her without a second thought. The only thing that stood out to Rene was the star hairpin that was clipped to the left side of her hair. Unlike her shirt, it was a pretty yellow. She didn’t know what it was made out of but it looked expensive.

Rene didn’t mean to be rude but she ended up zoning out after that. She had been to this camp so many time, she already knew the rules. Like all the other teenagers, she got her bag from under the bus and placed her things onto one of the cabin’s bunk beds. When she was child, she didn’t mind sleeping on stiff mattress that had a plastic cover over it. The scratchy blanket she was given was the most comfortable thing in her young mind.

Setting things up for the little kids wasn’t as bad as Rene thought it would be but she wasn’t enthusiastic about it. She was introduced to the other counselors, made her own name tag, and helped clean and set up the cabins for the younger kids.

Then the bus carrying the younger kids came. Most of them were smiling and bouncing with excitement. She couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed by the loud children. She did envy their boundless energy though.

Rene mostly stood back and watched, occasionally helping a child get their heavy bag, then helped a few children make their own name tag. A part of her enjoyed doing something other than sitting at home all day but another part of her wanted to be back in her room, wasting her time watching videos on her phone. Most teenagers ignored the rules of not bringing a phone to camp. While the children played on the playground in the center of the trees, the teenagers like her sat at the wooden benches enjoying their plastic wrapped lunches as they chatted and “discreetly” played on their phones. She wished she could have brought her phone but her parents were strict about that.

Rene watched the children play, bouncing her leg. She could see some kids her age that she knew from elementary school but she didn’t have the courage to talk to them. So she sat alone amongst teens that didn’t even seem to acknowledge her existence. It wasn’t their fault, it’s not like she was trying to talk to anyone. She had a few friends she met in middle school but they weren’t here at camp, she couldn’t even text them either.

She sighed, looking past the children and beyond the trees. How was she supposed to survive being here for ten weeks?

#magical girl story #magical girl genre #original story #original fiction

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thewisebyers · 2 years

Text

Face Value (CH1: In The Air Tonight)

Prompt: After Christy’s mother dies, she comes to live with her aunt and cousins, the Byers. She has to live out her last year of high school where she only knows four middle schoolers and a moody high schooler. Her and Jonathan had never been the closest but now he was all she had to survive the next year, She’s not sure why everyone keeps referring to her cousin as ‘zombie boy’ but she’s determined to find out.

Steve Harrington x Byer!oc requested?: no warninging: none in this chapter that i can think of , mentions of death? sick person. word count: 2.2k

A/N: this is gonna be a series going along with Phil Collins’ Face Value album. Listen along as you read if you like. But this is chapter one so enjoy!

Chapter One: In the Air Tonight

No one ever left Hawkins, Indiana. You grew up, got a job, moved out of your parents’ place, and started a family. Repeat. Everyone knew everyone. In fact, everyone knew who Joyce Byers was before the Byers kid had disappeared. Everyone was connected. She had even gone to high school with the mother of her son’s bullies. Everyone knew each other. Joyce had followed in the footsteps set by those who walked before her; she grew up, moved out, and started a family. Her sister, who she considered to be her best friend growing up, had moved away to Ohio. Which seemed years away and eventually turned into just that; contact between the two become more distant. Phone calls had become shorter and distant until they hadn’t heard from each other in months and, eventually, years.

Until her sister became very sick and Joyce visited tried to visit every other weekend or her days off from work. Sometimes the boys came along but she never forced them; the task being daunting on the single mother herself. As his aunt grew sicker, Will found himself struggling to come to terms with her sickly disease and honestly seeing her in such bad shape made him anxious and nauseous. So he stayed home, either with Jonathon, who sometimes couldn’t stomach the situation either, or stayed with the Wheelers for the weekend. As her days became numbered conversations became very serious. She didn’t have much to offer but she’d give Joyce everything if she took good care of her only child, her daughter. Joyce, with tears in her eyes, promised to treat her niece like her own.

1984.

Christy Matthews lost her mother on a blistering hot summer day and despite the sun blaring on her during her mother's service, her skin felt ice cold as her aunt Joyce wrapped her in an embrace. It was meant to bring comfort to the teen but it only left her sobbing into her aunt's shoulder as Joyce rubbed circles in her back. Though she had just lost her sister; Joyce had to remain strong for her family. For her niece who had just lost her mother and for her boys who had lost their only aunt. "It's okay to cry," her youngest says, tears in his eyes as well. Her heart sank for her boy who had been through so much; something they had decided to keep from her niece since they were no longer in danger. She let herself cry, to feel, for her son. For her loss. For their loss and everything they had all been through. The four cried and held each other together as dirt was thrown on the lowered casket.

Joyce let Will stay with Christy in Ohio as she packed the rest of her belongings to take back to Hawkins while her and Jonathan made the drive back to Indiana. The house was already sold and the next day would be her final day in the house she had grown up in. There were so many emotions Christy was feeling at once; grief, terror, uncertainty. She was terrified for what the future held but she was so thankful for her family and the support they had been showing her through this hard time. It wasn't her hard time; all of them were affected by her mother's passing and it would be selfish of her to think any different. She had lost her mother but her aunt had lost her sister and the pain the two were feeling must be so different but the same.

Will wished Christy had been around more growing up; she was fun and she didn't judge him when he told her how he felt. During summer vacation after her mom got sick Christy would stay with the Byers; her mom being watched over by an in home nurse they hired during the summer. It was her mother's way of letting Christy have her freedom and not have to fuss over her while worrying about school. Though her mom never told her; Christy knew she had felt guilty for getting sick and Christy giving up her life to take care of her. It wasn't her fault and the teenager so badly wanted her mother to know that; it was never her fault.

The two stayed up and made up stories about fairies and an evil dragon that gets defeated by the fairy that got casted out by the other fairies for not being strong or brave enough. Of course, he didn't do it alone, oh no, he had help from a handsome knight with a noble stead. Will pretended to yawn when it came to the part where the fairy lifted the knight's helmet to see the face of the brave man that had helped him. Christy rolled her eyes at her young cousin but cut her story short anyways. He was probably right; they had a long drive ahead of them.

The drive wasn't entirely dreadful when you had a great DJ as your passenger; Christy had cassettes upon cassettes and Will managed to choose the best of the best to fill up the travel time. They sang loudly to Genesis, their self titled album she had just received for her birthday months ago, and Will occasionally looked over the map Christy had given him for the trip. Christy almost knew the way by memory but needed some refreshing at some points of their trip. The trip wasn't long; only about four and a half hours. But both of them were ready to stretch their legs by the time they got to the Byer's residence. They had tried to leave Ohio at a reasonable hour but the two had slept till noon and had made it to Hawkins around five, after stopping a few times for food and restroom breaks.

The two were greeted by a grinning Joyce who was happy to see the two had made it safely and she was totally not worrying the entire time the two had been out of her motherly sight. Before her sister's passing, Joyce had gotten everything in order, she adopted Christy and she would be starting Hawkins High, joining Jonathan in the fall. With Christy now staying in the Byer home, Will and Jonathan became roommates to make way for their cousin to have her own space. The teen was more grateful than her family would ever know for accepting her into their home. "The boys have been waiting," Joyce told her youngest once she had met him at the passenger side of the car, she placed a kiss on top of her son's head and quickly moved to the trunk to help Christy with her boxes.

Most of her items had been already packed and shipped to Hawkins through a moving company Joyce had hired but a few of her last minute things she had packed in her car and had made the journey with her. Christy had yet to exit the car despite Will already had and her aunt opening her trunk, she needed a moment to collect herself. To come to terms with the fact this was her new home and she would never see the home she had spent seventeen years growing up in. She took a deep breath then slowly let it out; letting her body relax. She placed her pointer finger to lips and then to her mother's necklace wrapped around her rear view mirror. She was finally prepared to start her life in Hawkins and prepared to be ambushed by Will's friend who hadn't seen her since last summer. Unbeknownst to her, a lot had happened to the group between then and now.

summer, 1983

Christy was in the passenger side of her aunt Joyce’s car, the radio was at a reasonable volume. It had been two years since her mother had gotten sick and this was the first summer with the Byers since then, she had gotten to know her aunt and cousins when they came to visit her mom and her in Ohio. Christy was very grateful for the visits; she spent most of her time caring care of her mom and the visitors took weight of her responsibities off her shoulders even if it was for a short period of time. Plus, having your mom as your only friend was totally lame and the added company was nice.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of working,” Joyce steals a glance at her niece, hands gripping tightly to the wheel. “But I’m gonna make sure you have everything you need. Everything is in driving or biking distance. I know your car is in Ohio but I’m sure Jonathon will let you borrow his. I think he still has his bike unless we gave it to Goodwill.”

“Thank you, Aunt Joyce,” Christy smiled. She was excited to see where the Byers lived, knowing it was going to be her home someday. She had already accepted that her mother was never going to get better. “For everything.”

That summer she had spent playing D&D with her cousin at the Wheeler house, borrowing Jonathon’s car on occasion just in case there was a good movie showing or just to get out of the house and go into town. The party showed her around town; either biking or all of them piled into Jonathon’s car. ‘Heat of the Moment’ was blasting on the radio as she drove the kids into town, all of them singing horribly along.

“I got the album that’s going to change your life,” Christy smiles, taking a hand off the steering wheel and pointing to the cassette she had entrusted with Will. “Put it in.” This album had changed her life and she was about to change the lives of the four boys sitting in that car. “Chills. That’s all I can say.”

Soon enough, Face Value by Phil Collins was blasting through the speakers of the car. “I’m going to school you guys in cool music, ‘kay? Can’t have you listening to garbage like a bunch of dweebs.” She looked at the three boys sitting in the backseat from the rearview mirror. “We may be dweebs but at least we have good music taste.”

“You said 'we',” Dustin said from the backseat. “That means you’re including yourself and, therefore, grouping us together-”

“Yeah, I’m a dweeb,” Christy rolled her eyes. “Now shut your trap before I take it back.” She didn’t mean it though, she enjoyed their company far too much. She smiled to show she was joking, which caused the boys around her to smile and quickly burst into laughter.

The whole party was rushing behind Joyce to see their friend and, arguably more interesting, his cousin. They argued and talked over each other; arguing about who would carry what and how Christy didn't have braces anymore but she still had her thick rimmed glasses. The older teen never considered herself cool and actually enjoyed hanging out with her younger cousin and his friends which was why the party liked her so much. She treated them like equals because she believed they were. "Christy!" Dustin said loudly despite closing the distance between the two in an embrace. "We've missed you!"

"I missed you the most," Lucas blurted out. He instantly regretted his lack of thinking and turned away to hide his embarrassment. Back last summer, even when Christy had braces, Lucas couldn't stop talking about his friend's cousin. It was obvious to the group, and Christy, that Lucas was harboring a crush on the older teen. Christy thought it was adorable and treated all the boys like they were younger brother but Will thought it was gross. "I mean, you're the best healer," he tried to recover.

"I miss the cool indoors, let's grab a box and go!" Christy joked, trying to take some of the embarrassment off of Lucas's little outburst. Joyce laughed, grabbed a box, and lead the way back towards the house. All the boys and Christy grabbed a box and followed behind, Christy closing her trunk behind her. Will walked beside her older cousin while the rest of the group walked ahead of them. "I'm glad you're living with us," Will said softly so his friends wouldn't hear. "I really missed you." A trace of a smile was on his lips but it wasn't quite there. "I'm sorry about Aunt Frankie." He didn't look at her, just kept his sight in front of him as he walked. "Losing a parent sucks."

Christy vaguely knew about the abuse that her aunt had suffered through the hands of her cousins' father and she was glad that he was long gone and out of the picture. "We win some, we lose some, I guess," Christy offered once they were in the cool room of the Byers' living room. "We go on living for those who are longer here, we have to. The only way to go is forward." The other three boys had caught the end of their conversation and a sorrowful mood had filled the room.

"El," Mike whispered. He was looking forward, focusing on nothing, not looking at anyone around him.

"Who's El?" Christy questioned, earning looks from the whole party, like they were questioning whether they could trust her or not. Tell her the secret they were obviously keeping, she just wasn't sure what the boys weren't telling her. They stared at her, none of them saying anything. "Come on guys," Christy laughed awkwardly. "You gotta lighten up, you're one redhead away from looking like the Children of the Corn."

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stanger things story #stranger things series #steve harrington #stranger things stever #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington story #steve harrinton x oc #steve harrinton x byer!oc #steve harrington x reader

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azurillturtle · 11 months

Text

telos (laughter & light)

more thoughts on ancients culture, in the form of azem, euny, and a little bit of pashtarot. growing up and being left behind.

It is raining outside of Amaurot.

It is not raining inside Amaurot.

Inside the city bounds, the humidity is nothing more than a warm, pleasant mist. It’s warm in general, actually, a tad too hot to be considered ideal but not the blistering heat one might expect in the height of midsummer. In fact it’s unusually nice—

Euny mentally corrects herself. For one who has lived one’s whole life within Amaurot, this is exactly the weather one might expect in the height of midsummer.

Weather in Amaurot does not always follow the expected rules of the rest of the world. The people of the city claim that they experience seasons. Spring is the time for Halmarut to show off their newest creations. Summer is noticeably warmer and wetter. Autumn is marked by bright bursts of foliage on the trees, and a light dusting of snow might be found on the ground in winter.

That’s really all, though. If one were to travel a little ways out from the city, a mere ten malms or so, one would find the weather gradually changing to something more normal for Amaurot’s latitude and the surrounding topography. It is not that Amaurot was built in a temperate clime: It is simply that her residents do not see any reason to suffer any discomfort that they can block out entirely. And so the weather is mild, the seasons are perfectly tailored to appeal to the poets and the romantics, and they experience no storms save those that originate within the Capitol.

Euny has learned that Amaurotines are full of these sorts of little hypocrisies. They call themselves custodians of the star. They say that protecting and overseeing Etheirys is their lives’ work. She does not see how manipulating the local weather is supposed to serve the star, but she has learned it’s better not to ask.

To those born and raised in the city, this is a perfectly normal day in a perfectly normal summer and there is no reason to think otherwise. And what does it say about Euny herself, she wonders, that she no longer thinks of herself as being part of the city where she was born and raised?

It is raining outside of Amaurot. It is not raining inside Amaurot. The best middle ground she has found is a vantage point on the cliffs south of the city. From here she can admire the sprawling metropolis in its entirety, the towering buildings and glowing lights and spiraling sculptures of her home. From here she is far enough removed that the sky is gray and the rain is a light, persistent drizzle soaking through her robes. In the world outside the city it is summer, and so it is warm enough that she does not mind, though she will have to remember to dry off before she returns. She has an image to maintain that she cannot afford to have sullied by rumors. She cannot stand the thought of whispers behind her back, gazes of disapproval or pity leveled at her when they think she is not looking.

Euny heaves a deep sigh. Her hands ball into the carpet of wildflowers at her sides. She resists the urge to raise them and pull up the greenery by the roots.

Now especially she cannot appear to be anything but calm and collected. She is no longer a child, prone to ill-timed excitement and unsightly outbursts. She is a seasoned traveler of the star, mature enough to take anything in stride.

Even this.

Especially this.

She does not know how long she has been sitting here, lost in thoughts of her city and her place in it, when someone behind her sets their hands on her shoulders. She jumps and nearly tips over in her surprise. The scream she lets out is not very mature at all.

The person behind her was expecting this. Already they are laughing, their hands tightening on her shoulders to steady her before she falls.

“Azem!” she splutters, twisting around to shoot a half-hearted glare at her long-time acquaintance.

Azem’s grin is completely unrepentant. Like her, they have lowered their cowl and mask out here away from the city. Their eyes, striking violet and gold, are bright and wicked.

“Hello, Euny,” they say. “It’s been a while. Not since Miletus, if I remember right?”

“I think so,” Euny answers, though she does not spare more than the briefest of thoughts for the question. “What are you doing here?”

Azem makes a small, thoughtful noise. In one fluid motion they fall to a seat beside her, sitting crosslegged on the grass and draping their arms across their knees. She envies their careless grace; she always has.

“They call me counselor to the people,” Azem says breezily. “I suppose that means I should do a spot of counseling every now and again. You look as if you might benefit from it.”

Euny does not argue. She knows the turn of Azem’s moods well enough to know they will continue pestering her until she speaks. And so, even though she does not particularly wish to converse with anyone and especially not with one of her father’s contemporaries, she says, “I meant, what are you doing here?”

“Oh. You mean, here?” Azem’s wave encompasses the clifftop on which they sit and the city in the distance below them. “Well, naturally, I was looking for you. A little bird told me I might find you here.”

Euny cocks her head and furrows her brow. “…Literally or figuratively?”

Azem smiles and does not answer. Instead they say, “Nice place you’ve got here. Stunning view of the city. Come here often?”

“…Sometimes. I used to more often when I was attending school.” She twists her wrists fractionally, putting more stress on the poor grass clutched in her fists. More softly she admits, “Whenever I was upset and wanted to get away for a bit.”

“Hmm. Would you prefer to be alone then or should I stay?”

Euny shakes her head. “You can stay.”

“Oh, good,” Azem says, their tone still so lighthearted it’s hard to decipher their thoughts. “I can’t do much good as a counselor if you shoo me away.”

Euny rolls her eyes and doesn’t dignify that with an answer.

They sit together quietly for a time, the wind toying with their hair and the rain sluicing down their faces. Azem, Euny notices, doesn’t seem to mind the weather much either. Indeed, they tilt their head back as if enjoying the caress of the rain.

Euny does not ask why Azem thinks she might need counseling. They too will have heard the news. Whoever it was who directed Azem her way, it is both gratifying and embarrassing that they spared a thought for her in this moment.

Azem is the one who breaks the silence. That is not unexpected; they always have been more impatient than Euny.

“So,” they say—and she stiffens at that single word. “Eight moons.”

“Yes.”

They tilt their head, not turning to face her but regarding her out of the corner of their eye. “You must have known it was coming? He wouldn’t have sprung something like this on you.”

“…Yes.”

Azem waits for her to continue. When she does not, they sigh, leaning back and resting their weight on their elbows. They murmur, “It is cause for rejoicing when one declares their work complete and announces their intention to return to the star. And yet you aren’t happy.”

“Are you?” she retorts. “Everyone knows you and Papa don’t get along.”

“Is that what they say?” Azem wonders aloud. Before Euny can answer that rather puzzling question, they are already saying, “We have an agreement, he and I, though it may not seem that way from the outside.”

They slide their elbows along the wet grass, falling onto their back and bringing one hand up to shield their eyes from the rain.

“You, though. Your love for Pashtarot is in no doubt.”

The invitation leaves little room for misinterpretation. Euny pushes one heel across the ground, tearing grass and leaving furrows in the mud.

She wants to say she doesn’t want to talk about it. But if she really didn’t want to talk about it, she would have told Azem to leave her, right?

“He first mentioned it some years ago,” she says at last. “As you say, he wanted to discuss it with family first. He sat us down one morning and told us he was thinking of returning to the star. He said it wouldn’t be anytime soon, that he still needed to set his affairs in order. I thought there would be time enough to make my peace with the idea, but…”

“But time flies, and before you knew it, it was looming close on the horizon,” Azem says gently. “And now the moment is nearly here and you don’t know what to do.”

Euny nods silently.

Azem hesitates, then reaches over to pat her elbow. It is a tentative, awkward gesture. Still, they are trying.

“It’s strange,” she says, in answer to Azem’s earlier question. “I should be happy for him. And I am. But I feel as if I’m forcing myself to be happy for him. If I stopped to think about what I wanted, for myself, I wouldn’t be happy at all, and that’s…”

She stops, struggling for words; ducks her head and pushes a lock of bedraggled hair out of her face. “…I don’t know. I don’t know what to make of it really.”

Azem only says, quietly and thoughtfully, “Hmm.”

That’s really not useful at all, and Euny can’t help but be disappointed. She’s not sure what she was expecting really. Certainly it wasn’t the painfully judgmental silence now stretching between them.

Azem runs their hands across the ground, rustling blades of grass in their wake, and at last says, “This is the first time anyone close to you has returned to the star?”

Euny nods. Azem laughs, low in their throat, but they stop quickly once they realize she might take offense. “Then I’ll tell you something few bother to explain. Only the very old and the very idealistic truly believe that returning to the star is an occasion for uncomplicated joy. The rest of us, who have decades if not centuries remaining in which to serve, often find ourselves conflicted at their return. We should be glad that those we have loved have found themselves thus satisfied and declare their duties at an end. But it is a bittersweet farewell for those left behind, for we find ourselves faced with an eternal parting from those we cherish.”

Azem lifts one hand, framing their fingers against the sky. Then they glance at her, frowning slightly as if puzzled.

“You are not the first to wonder why we walk so willingly to our ends. A dear friend of mine struggled with the question for a very long time. Why we exist on this star, why we live, why we would choose to die. But in the end everyone’s thoughts on returning to the star are different. Just as we choose what brings us fulfillment in life, only we can decide why and when we should seek our ends.”

“What about you?” Euny says. “You’re old. Why do you think people want to return?”

Azem laughs, They roll onto their side to face her fully, mismatched eyes glittering with mirth. “Euny! Is that really what you think of me? I’m hurt!”

Euny draws her brows together, attempting to glower at them, but as always, their laughter is contagious. In the end she smiles, just slightly. “You didn’t answer my question. What would make you return to the star?”

Why is her father choosing to leave her behind?

Azem is silent for a time, merely watching her. They don’t move save to blink, long lashes brushing rain from their eyes. She finds that she cannot holds their piercing gaze and looks away, back towards the city, and Azem sighs.

“To start with, it’s not fully my decision. I’m not going anywhere without Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus. That we decided long ago.”

Euny stifles her giggle. Their words are matter-of-fact, their promise solemn and unbreakable. Azem will return with Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus or not at all. The thought of their devotion tugs sweet and painful at her heartstrings.

“You’re adorable,” she says.

“What?” But Azem’s confusion lasts only a moment. When she does not elaborate, they flop on their back on the wet grass and continue, “…I don’t know when they will be ready. They’ll tell me when it’s time. But as for when I think we should return to the star…

“Well. I’m a traveler. The Traveler, I suppose. To me, life is all one long adventure. A series of sweet meetings and bitter partings. We chase our dreams, and celebrate our successes, and bow beneath the crushing weight of failure. Each and every moment, we live to the fullest. And at the end of the day, exhausted from our efforts, we retire for a well-deserved rest.”

They lace their fingers together and extend their arms above them. “That is how I have come to view it. Much as I love adventure, even I must admit that there comes a time when the excitement wears thin and we long for sleep.”

Azem shrugs, their hands rising another few ilms in the air with the movement. “We live to serve the star. We return to the star once we have made our contributions. In practice, that means a return when we are at our happiest: when we have achieved all that we intended, when we can look back on our lives with satisfaction and say, yes, I can do no better. What reason then do we have to linger? Better to rest and be reborn anew, ready to serve once more.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Euny mumbles.

“Most things are when you get right down to it. Complicated though they might seem at first glance, you’ll find there’s really not much to them once you strip them down to the essentials.”

Azem glances to the side, their eyes sharp. Only when a shiver runs down her spine does Euny realize that she’s relaxed her guard.

“What I mean to say, Euny, is that by voicing his intent to return to the star, Pashtarot has pronounced that he is satisfied with the life he has lived. As a respected member of the Convocation of Fourteen, yes, and as one who has watched over our people and acted as an unwelcome adversary to their irreproachable Azem, but in his personal life as well.”

Azem bestows a beatific smile upon her. “He has the utmost faith in you. You have grown into a magnificent adult. He believes he has done his duty by you; that even in his absence, you will continue to be well, with your strength and your courage to light your way. Has he not said as much?”

Euny stares as if they’ve grown a second head. After a long moment, Azem sighs. “…Right. Pashtarot. Of course not.”

With a great heave, they push themself back up to a seat. They are so close their shoulder brushes against hers, but at least their unsettling gaze is no longer focused on her.

“It’s a very personal matter, choosing to return to the star,” they say quietly. “In the end it falls to the individual, and it’s best if they don’t allow their decision to be unduly influenced by others. To live entirely for other people is to deny one’s own desires. To deny one’s desires is to plant the seeds of dissatisfaction and misery. It’s natural to grieve those we will not see again, but it is for their own sake that we let them go.”

“I know that,” she mumbles.

She does know that. She knows that she’s being selfish, wishing that her father would stay just a little longer. And that makes her feel worse in the end, because she shouldn’t be selfish, she should be able to see him off with a smile.

“We meet many people on our travels,” Azem says. “Some we encounter only once. Some we see again and again. And some we part with, knowing there will never be a next time. I will not tell you it gets easier—only that it is the same for all of us at some point in our lives.

“You will get through it all right. He would not leave you if he did not believe you could thrive without him.” Azem smiles faintly and tilts their head. “It’s a hard thing, being a parent. Letting one’s child fly free on her own wings.”

Euny closes her eyes and blows a breath. Azem’s shoulder bumps hers again, companionably, and she finds she does not mind.

“Would you like a hug?” they ask softly.

Euny nods, not daring to speak.

Azem’s arm wraps about her shoulders, pulling her close. Euny keeps her eyes screwed firmly shut. It is raining outside of Amaurot, and it is not raining inside Amaurot, and, she thinks, she can be forgiven for a moment of weakness. Just this once.

Azem does not say a word, but the arm around her is tight, and they do not let her go.

When even the last of her whimpers dies down to nothing, when pride and embarrassment reassert themselves, she straightens up and in so doing pulls away. Azem lets her go, dropping their hand to rest back on the grass.

“Thank you,” she says, and Azem nods.

“I’ll miss him too, I think,” they say. “Not in quite the same way as you, but I will miss him.”

She has no reason to doubt the truth of those words. Whatever Azem’s feelings on her father, a long, complex association leaves its own mark. It will not be the same once the new Pashtarot takes his place.

Euny scrubs one hand across her eyes. She cannot return to the city for a little while yet, not while her eyes are red enough to evoke comment. Instead she turns to Azem and searches for something to say. “What about you?”

Azem’s brow is furrowed, their eyes wide with confusion. Azem is also by now soaked from head to toe, gray hair plastered against their skin and robes hanging heavy with water. The overall effect is rather comical. “What about me?”

“You seem the type of person who can always find something new and interesting wherever you go. When would you consider yourself satisfied? Your adventures at an end?”

“Besides when Emet-Selch and Hythlodaeus are ready, you mean?” Azem stretches their legs out, pointing their toes down toward the city. “Well. I don’t think I’ll ever see everything the star has to offer. You’re right about that at least. When I have shared the joy and the beauty of the star with all who will listen; when the friendship between Amaurot and our far outflung peoples has grown unshakable. When the world has become a kinder and gentler place. Then, I think, I can step down from my seat content.”

They chuckle low in their throat, their chin dipping and their eyelids falling half-closed with amusement. “We won’t return immediately, I think. I fully intend to drag them across the star and take them to all of my favorite places. We could all do with some time to enjoy ourselves, and there is so much I’d like to show them.

“But that is still a long way off, and there is much preparation that has yet to be done.” Azem sighs theatrically. “Hythlodaeus still has boxes and boxes of submissions he’s always said he’ll get to someday, and Emet-Selch still keeps getting distracted by every new and fancy application of aether that crosses his path. I daresay they’ve put no thought into who will look after their business once they’ve gone, and that’s the most important consideration of all if one wishes for one’s legacy to be properly preserved.”

“I suppose,” Euny murmurs. She is thinking about her father’s chosen successor, a woman she has known since she was very young, as serious and dedicated as one could ever ask. There is no one better qualified to carry on her father’s will and his wishes than Metis.

“When that time comes, Euny…”

Azem pauses. There is a quality to their hesitance that makes Euny glance at them. Their eyes are narrowed to the barest slits; they are gazing down at the city as if something has displeased them.

“Azem?”

They shake their head sharply as if emerging from a reverie. “…Never mind. You’re still young. I won’t burden you with that yet.”

She stares at them, lips unconsciously pressed together in a pout. “Are you saying I’m too young to understand?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m saying you should enjoy your carefree youth for a few more decades before I upend your life with my dastardly plans.”

That does not make her feel any better. Euny’s scowl makes plain her thoughts on the matter. Azem laughs and ruffles her hair affectionately, which only solidifies her belief that they still consider her a child. “Feeling better?”

She stops, her lips parting as she considers the question. Oddly enough, she is. “…Yes.”

“I thought so. It helps to know you’re not alone.” Azem nudges her arm. “If you still find yourself struggling, send me a message. I’m always willing to talk. And I suggest sitting down with your father for a proper discussion. He isn’t really one to discuss his feelings, but he’ll do it if you ask it of him.”

Of course he will. That is the one thing in her life that Euny has never doubted. Her father would do anything for her.

Azem waits for a moment, giving her time to speak if she so desires. When she does not, they prompt gently, “Is there anything else on your mind?”

Euny gives the question serious thought before shaking her head. Azem nods and stands, stretching their arms above their head. “Then I think it’s past time we return to the city. We’ve been gone long enough there will be people wondering at our absence.”

They extend a hand to her, wet and clammy with rain. Euny takes it and they pull her to her feet.

She has traveled with Azem before, with other companions or just the two of them alone. Under normal circumstances, Azem will just not shut up: They delight in pointing out every wonder that crosses their path and catches their eye. Today, however, they are reserved in deference to her mood, breaking the silence only to tell her to watch her step.

Soon enough the spires of Amaurot are looming tall before them and they are passing through the city gates. Euny expects Azem to make their excuses and peel away to find their friends; instead they accompany her, following her lead down the streets. There is nowhere else she needs to be, and so she turns her steps toward home.

They are a mere few minutes and a few blocks from the spacious family suite where she grew up when they catch sight of a familiar mask. The color would identify him even had Euny not already recognized him by his height and his walk, the way he carries himself and the way he turns to look at them.

She stops and rocks back on her heels, struck by the sudden shock of seeing him. He pauses; then he’s moving toward them at his usual ground-eating stride.

“Eunomia,” he says. Then his attention slips to her companion and he inclines his head stiffly. “Azem.”

“Delivery for you, Pashtarot,” Azem says cheerfully. “I found her on the cliffs above the city. Not sure if the carrier got the address wrong.”

Pashtarot pays no attention to their nattering. He is studying Euny, searching for any trace of weakness or distress. She can feel the weight of his gaze beneath his mask.

For a brief, fleeting moment, she realizes that her first instinct when upset was to flee the city. What does that say about her, a born child of Amaurot? What does that say about who she is now?

What does her father see when he looks at her? Who does he think she will become once he has moved on and can no longer keep her under his watchful eye?

Pashtarot does not tell her. He does not speak of it at all. When he speaks at last, it is to say, “You’re soaked through.”

Her first instinct was to leave the city.

Her first thought was to turn to the outside world.

Once she remembers that, she realizes that he must know exactly the type of person she is. Even then he is prepared to return to the star. He trusts that wherever she goes from here, she will continue to be someone he loves and takes pride in.

Euny straightens up. She tilts her head back to look him in the eye. “It’s raining outside Amaurot.”

She speaks with a bright and beaming smile.

#ruriwrites #eunyverse tag

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paramountives · 1 year

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no it was not, I did it when I was little because I watched a tv show called Malcolm in the middle and in one of the episodes the mom and dad had a competition over who could hold a hot frying pan longer and the mom won and I thought it was so cool I started burning my hands on things every day and sadly I cannot hold a hot frying pan but I hardly feel pain in my hands and a piece of evidence to this is last summer I burnt a chunk out of my hand because I had it against the metal part of a car headrest and didn't notice till I had a balloon blister and now I have a scar there :]

raya.

#what #WHAT #you just thought you’d. burn your hand to build up a tolerance??#you probably saw the princess bride and decided to try building an immunity to poison too #how are you alive #how do you still own hands???#raya communication

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keirametzbrassknuckles · 2 years

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Would love to hear about Drumming Song or Salt, if you want to!

Salt is actually not a Witcher fic (surprising, I know, who even am I?). It's my take on a selkie and fisherman fic that is not about selkies at all featuring John Bridgens and Henry Peglar from The Terror. It's actually a reworking of a very old Les Mis fic I wrote in middle school and going through and picking the wheat from all of the chaff I wrote at 13 is kind of fun. Baby me kind of went off in places NGL.

Drumming Song came about because I decided that Eskel would make a great drummer. It slowly spiraled out of control from a cute fic of Geralt getting hot and bothered watching Eskel play to an absolute heartbreaker of a fic involving complicated sibling relationships, drug abuse, abandonment issues, the inherent trauma of growing up as an outsider in a small town, and being unable to break the cycles of abuse forced on you by circumstance. Y'know... all that fun stuff.

I've been trying to beat it into shape for a while but I can't really get it to say what I want it to yet. Dropping the beginning under the cut though because it's dear to me:

It's very soft but CW for mentions of child abuse anyway

The interior of the little roadside farm stand is dark and hot as hell, smelling of dirt and hay and vegetables slowly rotting in their crates. A fly hums over some tomatoes. In the corner a fan makes a halfhearted effort to move the blistering air around.

It’s Geralt and Eskel’s turn to mind the shop while Gweld, Tristan and Aubry help Vesemir with the day chores. They’re Vesemir’s farmhands much more than his sons and while the old man is kind he’s never gentle and works them accordingly. It’s better, though, than what he left; here he never goes hungry, never goes cold and he gets to shower every day. Best of all though, he met Eskel. Eskel is kind, and beautiful and Geralt loves him with the kind of star-struck twelve-year-old puppy love that is worth its weight in gold. Eskel, for all intents and purposes a sage and ancient fourteen, is the sun his planet orbits around, the steady, reliable center of his universe. If all Geralt ever knows is this one sun-struck summer, this buzzing heat, Eskel and the dirt streaked across one chestnut-tanned cheek, he thinks he’d die the happiest boy in the world.

They have the stereo on, huddled around it pressed closer than the warmth warrants, sharing a carton of fresh blueberries, unwashed and slightly gritty. Geralt is sweating so badly his shirt is sticking to his back but every now and then his and Eskel’s hands collide or their shoulders brush and Geralt feels like he’s swallowing the sun; some brightness in his chest lighting up like a firefly in the darkness.

“Listen!” Eskel says, eyes lighting up as the drum solo begins, as though this is the first time he’s heard it, as though they haven’t listened to it so many times it’s practically worn a hole in the tape “and then it goes…”

Geralt isn’t listening to the song, too busy watching the way Eskel mimics the drum line with two outstretched fingers in the air; the roll, the six one-two punches, the thunderclap of the cymbal. His fingers are long and beautiful, scabbed knuckles and all, tips of them stained purple with berry juice that Geralt wants to lick off even though he’s not entirely sure why.

“Something on my face?” Eskel asks. He’s smiling that private smile that he seems to reserve exclusively for Geralt and it makes his cheeks burn.

“No” he says, looking away quickly “I just…”

A customer wanders in, unknowable beneath her wide-brimmed sunhat, sending them shuffling apart and pretending to look busy. Geralt’s skin is buzzing like he’s just swallowed an entire hive of bees, and his mouth tastes dusty, dry suddenly. He glances at Eskel over his shoulder only to find Eskel looking back at him, dark eyes full of some emotion that Geralt can’t put a name to.

“Have you ever thought about what we’re gonna do after this?” he asks Eskel that evening as they’re shutting up the chicken coop.

The sky is turning bruise-colors at the edges, the last rays of the sun striking out gamely over the mountaintops in spears of bright against the dark. Crickets squeal in the long grass and in the patches of shadow at the edges of the forest the fireflies have already begun to make themselves known. Eskel carries the now-empty feed bucket and is drumming his fingers on it in a rhythmic roll that sounds like incoming thunder.

“Maybe” Eskel says, shrugging, pausing his drumming on the bucket for a moment before rolling into a syncopated tap tap tap rhythm that sounds like rain coming down on the roof of the greenhouse.

“Do you think we’ll do it together?”

That gives Eskel pause.

“Maybe” he says again, like a record stuck in a scratch repeating the same words, voice quiet in the dark.

“Well I’d like that” Geralt says, feeling sure about something for the first time in his life, resolute “We could get a house on the seaside and a drum set for you so you could play….”

He gets a little tangled up in himself after that, not sure what adulthood is supposed to look like. His experience of most grown ups so far has been acrid smoke and gnawing hunger in his stomach and dark rooms full of too many people who wouldn’t hear him no matter how hard he cried. Eskel, he knows, came from somewhere worse; somewhere that he wakes in the night begging to escape from. Geralt doesn’t want that for them, that re-treading of old patterns or falling into ruts (“it’s about breaking cycles” one of the caseworkers had said to Vesemir once when they’d thought they were alone “these boys are all stuck in it whether they want to be or not. It’s about keeping them out of the shit for as long as you can”); rather, he wants some kind of soft and open brightness that he can feel at the tips of his fingers but can’t manage to name.

“I’d like that” Eskel says, taking the bucket by the handle properly so he can grab Geralt’s sweaty, grimy hand in his own “I’d really like that”

That night they sleep with the windows open, the dust-hot wind rolling in from the hay fields coating their tongues. As soon as he’s sure Gweld and Aubry are asleep Geralt slips from his own bed and into Eskel’s, shadow quiet. He curls up against Eskel’s side, wrapping one skinny arm across that broad ribcage. Eskel smells of clean soap and fresh laundry, the fabric of his t-shirt soft and worn-in beneath Geralt’s cheek. He has his headphones on and the steady hum of the tape player is a metronomic white noise in the darkness; whir, rewind, whir, rewind as Eskel plays and replays his favorite song. His hand settles at the small of Geralt’s back, fingers drumming drumming drumming against his spine.

#my fic

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