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jungkookschin · 2 months

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demigod trials: fates intertwined | two

synopsis: you met jungkook at camp half-blood when you were 10 years old. since then, your fates have been infinitely intertwined.

word count: 10k

pairing: son of ares!jungkook x daughter of hephaestus!reader

genre: camp half blood au, percy jackson au, demigod au, childhood friends to lovers, exes to lovers , enemies to lovers, jungkook is sooo in love, jungkook is emotionally constipated, THEY FALL INTO TARTARUS TOGETHERR, jk and y/n are supposed to be reminiscent of percabeth, y/n can wield fire 😳 , ANGSTYY, taehyung as a son of poseidon, namjoon son of athena, mingyu son of jupiter, mina daughter of venus,

warnings: death, angst, blood, kinda gruesome, SMUT (not explicit at all- it's told more in a poetic way), v card loss, many percy jackson references, character death (she comes back to life)

author’s note

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 3.5 | chapter four

That morning, Jungkook, Namjoon (son of Athena), Taehyung (son of Poseidon), Jinyoung (son of Hermes), Jennie (daughter of Hades), Jaehyun (son of Apollo), Jisoo (daughter of Demeter), Mark (son of Hephaestus), and Yeri (the satyr) gathered around the ping pong table in the Big House, as called by Chiron.

The purpose of the gathering was to address the need for camp expansion. With the current cabins unable to accommodate all the demigods, it seemed impractical to have 22-year olds like Jungkook share living quarters with ten year-olds.

Namjoon unfolded the blueprints across the ping pong table, revealing intricate architectural designs for every cabin, along with plans to make space for adjacent cabins to accommodate all the demigods.

“So,” Taehyung begins, “We can separate the cabins by, like, minors and 18+?” he shrugs, to which everyone murmurs in agreement.

“Gods, that sounds good,” Jinyoung asserts, “My eight year old brother pulled condoms from my bag and kept asking me what they were! Can you imagine how I felt?”

Jennie swats Jinyoung’s chest. “Seriously? In front of Chiron?”

Jinyoung shrugs, “We’re all grown, I’m sure Chiron is aware of- that we… you know,”

Chiron sighs. “I’ve experienced worse with my brothers the Party Ponies. If anything, this is all the more reason to push for expansion. We must ensure the children are not inadvertently exposed to your... daily activities,” he finishes, eliciting laughter from the cabin leaders.

Jisoo plants her palms on the ping pong table and looks over the blueprints for the Demeter cabin. She bats her lashes at Namjoon. “Any way you can expand our garden, too?”, to which Yeri the satyr joins and uses her puppy eyes on him.

When Namjoon sighs and acquiesces, Jisoo and Yeri interlock fingers and squeal in excitement.

“In that case, can I get a pool in my cabin?-”

“Taehyung, shut up.”

Mark steps through and rapidly scans Namjoon’s blueprints before stepping back and nodding. “The Hephaestus cabin can do this in two weeks min and a month max.”

Jungkook dealt with weird emotions each time he crossed paths with Mark, your younger brother. Seeing Mark earnestly step up to lead the Hephaestus cabin, carrying the responsibilities you once shouldered, filled Jungkook with indescribable pride and sorrow.

“Anything we can do to help, then?” Jungkook offers to which Mark nods

“Namjoon and I can organize a list of materials we need for each cabin to gather. But beyond that, it would be best if you all stayed out of our ways, erm- respectfully, of course,” Mark responds.

Jaehyun laughs at that, throwing a lazy arm around Mark. “I’m so proud of you,” he nuzzles his forehead against the side of Mark’s head, “Our baby is all grown up.”

“Eww, get off me,” Mark responds, lightly nudging Jaehyun away.

Later in the day, Jungkook started collecting the materials Mark had instructed the Ares cabin to gather. He ran into the woods to start cutting wood when he senses another presence.

A monster, maybe, or perhaps a nymph or satyr wandering about. The sound of footsteps rustling through the dry leaves Jungkook further concerned, and he unsheathes his Celestial Bronze knife. “Show yourself.”

You step out from behind a tree in a fresh set of clothes and Jungkook drops his knife.

He looks at you, and you look at him.

In an instant, Jungkook's pupils burst into flaming orbs as he draws his sword, swiftly advancing towards you. The sheer disdain etched on his features is unforgettable, and you quickly realize that he likely mistook you for a monster taking on your appearance.

You turn around and run. You sprint towards the camp barriers, screaming for your life before you trip on a rock, sending you sprawling onto the ground, your face meeting the cold, hard earth.

Confusion clouds Jungkook's features as he slows his pursuit. He looks you up and down, uncertainty written across his face as he assesses the situation.

“Jungkook! It’s me! It’s actually me! Stop!” you scream, desperately trying to make him recognize you.

He assumes a defensive stance, but his voice quivers. “Y/N?”

“Jungkook,” you respond breathlessly, “I can explain. Did Rosie tell you guys about the Physician’s Cure?”

Jungkook comes to a sudden halt. "I... just..." His brain malfunctions, leaving him at a loss for words in your presence.

He pulls himself together. “I’m going to arrest you and take you to the Big House… just in case.”

You appear a little stunned but you nod, reaching into your magic toolbelt to pull out handcuffs, grinning at him a little when you toss them to him.

News of your return spread through the camp like a wildfire. Jungkook guides you to the Big House while a crowd of people formed around him

His heart insists that it’s you, and his soul is screaming at him that it’s you, but after all this time he refuses to believe it.

Camp Half-Blood achieved a new milestone by hosting the highest number of meetings in a single day: 2.

The ping pong table has been folded and moved to the side, leaving a single chair in the empty space for you- or a monster pretending to be you.

All the cabin leaders sprinted to the Big House once they heard the news.

Taehyung and Namjoon, sweaty from sprinting from the pegasi stables, stand in the doorway to catch a glimpse of you.

Taehyung instantly falls to his knees and Namjoon drops the notebook in his hand.

The seas of people part at the sound of Chiron’s hooves, whose face morphed into exasperation at your appearance. “My gods, it can’t be. Y/N?”

You smile shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your air before waving with your fingers, “Hi?”

Jennie peeked from behind Chiron, gasping, and she tried to run towards you until Chiron stuck his arm out to stop her.

Jaehyun stepped forward with a bow strung on his arrow, ready to fire at any moment. “Explain,” he seethes.

“Oh,” you laugh awkwardly, combing through your hair with your fingers, “What a warm welcome.”

A horn blows throughout the camp, signaling the arrival of the Roman demigods, who were alerted of the news immediately after Jungkook made the announcement.

Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood established a teleportation portal between the two camps, allowing instant and seamless communication.

Rose passed through the crowd, gasping when her eyes landed on you. Ignoring Chiron’s warnings, she ran to you, her hands falling on your shoulders.

“The Physician’s Cure?” she asks, breathless.

You nod, and she embraces you tightly, tears streaming down her face. “Fuck, Y/N. It fucking worked It’s a miracle.”

“Rose Park,” Mina’s voice echoes throughout the building, and she assumes an offensive stance with her Imperial Gold spatha. “You’ll be under arrest for treason if you don’t explain what’s going on.”

You rise abruptly, shielding Rose with your body. “I’ll explain. I am Y/N L/N, and it’s true that I died, but I was brought back to life with the Physician’s Cure.”

“On the ship, after Jungkook and I returned from Tartarus,” you begin, your eyes flickering towards Jungkook, “Rose and I began developing the Physician's Cure, an injection that can bring anybody back to life. It was formulated by Asclepius, son of Apollo and the god of medicine.”

Rose nods sternly. “I’d been researching the Physician’s Cure for years,” she adds, “Y/N was the only one I trusted with its formula, and we did it. I thought we had failed, but Gods, it worked.”

You vigorously nod. “And I had this idea- this idea that I had to be the one to kill Gaia. To storm or fire the world shall fall,” you state, recalling the prophecy, “I’m fire. It had to be me. So Rosie and I devised a plan to kill Gaia for good. And I knew the risks, I knew I could die- but when Rosie told me about the Physician’s Cure I knew I had to do it. It was a sign from the fates. I had to get rid of Gaia by burning her to death, and the only way I could do it was burning myself to death. We would fly Gaia away from her home court, burn her to death, and Pulchra would bring me back with the Physician's Cure.”

Jungkook’s features twist in pain, in betrayal. “So it wasn’t an accident? You planned on dying without telling us?”

His attention turns towards Rose. “And you knew?” he seethes, “This whole time, all this pain could have been avoided-“

“I thought she was dead!” Rose responds, “You were so depressed I didn’t want to give you any false hope! That injection had a 10% chance of working- I didn’t know!”

“So you knew Y/N was going to die and did nothing about it,” Taehyung seethes.

“It was my choice,” you interject, “It was for the mission. Gaia is gone and that means it was a success.”

Jungkook scoffs. “To storm or fire the world shall fall,” he recites the prophecy. “Storm would have sufficed. Mingyu and I had a plan, Y/N. We could have avoided all this.”

“But Mingyu would have died!” You respond.

“I wouldn’t have!” Mingyu interjects, “With all due respect, my body could have taken it,” He puts a hand on his heart to convey his sincerity. “You should have told us. Can you imagine how Jungkook and I felt when you fucking died in front of us? And we couldn’t do anything about it?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? Why does it matter?”

Mingyu looks at you with an especially crestfallen expression and your stomach plummets. You shift your gaze to Jungkook and he looks arguably worse, eyes turning red as he stares at the ground, shaking his head in disbelief.

Chiron steps in the middle to intervene. “That’s enough, everybody. Let Y/N finish her story. Where have you been the past two years?”

Your face falls and your knees buckle. “T-two years? What?”

Rosie hooks her arm through yours. “It’s been two years. Take a minute to process everything.” She leads you to your seat, and you inhale so deeply your chest hurts.

Two years? It was just yesterday that you incinerated Gaia.

“I-I woke up on an island,” you explain, “I don’t know where exactly I was, but it was somewhere in the Indian ocean. I made some tweaks to Pulchra’s GPS system and flew back here as fast as I could.”

Jungkook nods bitterly, tears streaming down his face as he addresses you. “Yea Y/N, it’s been two years- two fucking years. We’re not teenagers anymore, we’re adults and we take responsibility for our actions,” he bitterly states.

“Kook, I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.”

“Did you know that we spent six months looking for you? Traveled every sea, walked every country to find you, even though the Hades kids confirmed your death?” Jungkook adds, voice quivering. “So this information would have been nice to know when were on that ship for six fucking months,” he seethes, redirecting his attention to Rose.

“Don’t blame her,” you interject, “She was in a tough position, she couldn’t have-“

“Oh don’t worry, inferno princess, I blame you too. I must’ve meant shit to you if you were planning on dying without telling me. Did everything…” he trails off, gazing at you with such profound betrayal, “Did everything mean nothing to you?”

You shake your head, unable to conjure a proper response. “I-I thought I’d only be gone for a few hours Kook- I didn’t know-”

“And if the Physician’s Cure didn’t work?” Jungkook asks, staring at you incredulously, “Rose herself said it had a 90% failure rate, so if it didn’t work, you would have just died and expected me to live with myself? To live without you?” The pain in his chest is nearly unbearable, and sadness envelopes your entire being.

“I’m sorry,” is all you say.

“Sorry? Sorry? So that night when we- when you- with the candles, did you know? Did you know you were going to die?” Jungkook asks.

Your face falls, and Jungkook bitterly scoffs at that. “What you did wasn’t heroic, Y/N. What you did was cruel. You’re- you’re crueler than the gods.” And with that, he bitterly stomps away, the crowd parting for his exit.

Chiron clears his throat, walking towards the middle of the room before he announces “Campers under the age of 20, you are dismissed. Return to your daily activities immediately.”

You gaze at your trembling hands, struggling to comprehend everything, when Namjoon engulfs you in the most intense hug he's ever given. In his embrace, you crumble and break into tears.

“Gods Y/N, I’m just- I’m glad you’re back.”

You embrace him with the same intensity, crying into his shoulders.

You refuse to let Namjoon go until you’re ripped from him from the hem of your shirt and pulled into Taehyung’s embrace. He’s crying harder than you, body trembling as he holds you and at that moment, you would do anything to ease his anxiety and calm the tremors coursing through his body. You sniffle, rubbing his back up and down with your palms, and the only thing you can say to him is that you’re sorry.

Mingyu is up next, and as pissed off as he was, he holds you tight and cries into your shoulder. “You’re a fucking idiot,” he says and all you do is cry.

Mina, dropping her Spatha, rushes towards you, throwing herself into your arms. She buries her face in your hair, letting out guttural cries

For hours, you and your childhood friends stay in the Big House, crying, hugging, and catching up.

That night at dinner, you reconvene with your siblings in the Hephaestus cabin, who ardently welcome you home with a toast to your father.

Mark, your younger brother who is now the head of the Hephaestus cabin, receives the biggest hug the moment you spot him. He laughs and returns the hug with equal enthusiasm, saying, "So, does this mean I don’t have to be head counselor anymore?"

You shoot him a playful glare. “Don’t even. You’ve been doing so well. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to help.”

“Of course, sis,” he adds, “It’s water under the bridge- you did save the world anyway,” he shrugs.

During dinner, your gaze involuntarily wanders towards the Ares table, and Jungkook is noticeably absent.

The thought of what you did to Jungkook makes you sick to your stomach. Back then, your focus was solely on the quest, and you didn't want him to intervene because you believed the mission had to take precedence.

The mission carried immense stress, and you had to devise a strategy to eliminate Gaia. The fate of the world hung in the balance, dependent on your actions. Your friends would've intervened if they knew, and Gaia might have fully come back to life.

Everything he said was true. You were selfish. You knew you were going to die and you pretended like everything was okay because you desperately clung onto that sense of normalcy you had with him.

You were selfish, and you were a coward.

While dying for a noble cause sounds heroic- Jungkook was right, you were selfish. You would rather die than deal with the grief of losing your friends.

Nobody says anything about your encounter with Jungkook, until Jaehyun approaches you after dinner.

As you walk back to the Hephaestus cabin, he scares the shit out of you when he appears from the shadows, “So, Jungkook? Were you guys like …?”

You’re a little taken aback, but you can’t help but notice the crestfallen expression on Jaehyun’s face and all you can do is nod. “He’s it for me. It’s him or nothing,” you respond.

Jaehyun tightens his lips and gives a nod. "I- well- alright. If you ever change your mind... just let me know," he says with an awkward smile. He offers to walk you back to your cabin, and you oblige to catch up with him.

Walking past the Ares cabin, you can’t help but notice two figures convening by its side, one on their tiptoes to kiss the other. You tilt your head and momentarily pause.

“Wait Y/N- we should just go back-“

Your heart drops when you realize it’s Jungkook and a girl, a girl you definitely don't recognize. She’s got her hands on his cheeks, her thumbs rubbing his skin soothingly, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off her as they speak to each other.

You shake your head, immediately backing away before you stumble and fall onto Jaehyun. He catches you, gaze immediately sweeping over your face. You collect yourself and wipe the dust from your clothes.

"It-it's fine," you say, but tears are already streaming down your face. You sprint back to your cabin before Jaehyun can say anything.

That night, you can’t sleep. You and your younger brother Mark spend the entire night in the main room of the Hephaestus cabin, poring over a blueprint of a prototype he's working on for the new 18+ Hephaestus cabin.

"Obviously, I'm not sticking to Namjoon's blueprints for our cabin," Mark declares, as if it's the most evident statement, “Since you and I are the only 18+ kids in our cabin, we’re gonna make that shit the best building Camp Half-Blood’s ever seen!” he expresses with a twinkle in his eye.

You smile at his enthusiasm as you scan over his blueprints. “Jacuzzi tub for every bunk?” you express, “I like how you think little brother.”

For hours, you and Mark review blueprints, constructing the best cabin to ever be built.

The next morning, you and Mark look like death, but you insist on heading to breakfast anyway.

Your expression darkens as you catch sight of Jungkook and his girlfriend walking towards the dining hall. Mark instantly notices the shift in your mood and attempts to divert your attention by sharing another idea he had for the cabin.

Throughout the night, you had confided in your brother about the details of your past relationship with Jungkook, and now he fills you in on the information he gathered about Jungkook's new girlfriend.

A descendant of the Roman Apollo, Sofia traveled all the way to Camp Half-Blood to visit Jungkook.

In Jungkook's eyes, Sofia became a symbol of unwavering support, a pillar of unconditional devotion, and Mark’s verbiage makes you feel infinitely worse, considering that you disappeared after three weeks of dating Jungkook.

You know, maybe you weren’t so in the wrong. Ironically, considering he has moved on, perhaps you weren't as significant to him as you thought, not enough for him to hold on for two years.

Instead, you direct your attention to Mark’s plans for magical laundry chutes throughout the new Hephaestus cabin.

Taehyung and Namjoon join you for breakfast at the Hephaestus table, eagerly spilling everything they’ve accomplished the past two years.

Namjoon is now Chief Architect for Mount Olympus, and Taehyung discovered an underwater Camp Half-Blood for mermen. Mina and Mingyu join later and you immerse yourself in conversation, learning that Mina and Mingyu are the Praetors for the Roman Legion.

You smile at everybody, eagerly chatting and listening along, perceiving exactly how much you missed the past two years, as happy as you are for your friends, you’re heartbroken by the realization of your prolonged absence.

You’re pulled from your trance when Mina makes a damning statement. “Rose is on probation. She’s going to be put on trial for treason against the Legion and conspiring for your death.”

You freeze.

“What?”

Mina sighs. “I’m sorry Y/N, but that’s the law. I can’t bend rules because she’s my friend.”

The tension at the table is palpable, and you stare at Mingyu and Mina with a tenacious reflection in your eyes.

“Where is she?” you ask, adrenaline surging through your veins.

Mina and Mingyu exchange glances, imploring the other to answer the question. “She’s in a jail cell back in Camp Jupiter,” Mingyu finally answers.

You gasp, abruptly rising to your feet before Taehyung grabs your hand to stop you from going anywhere. “Y/N, sit,” he says through gritted teeth.

As you stand, eyes searching for answers, you catch Taehyung's grip on your hand and the subtle shake of Namjoon's head. You glance around and notice the curious and concerned gazes of fellow demigods in the dining hall. Innocent children, still unaware of the haunting reality of being a demigod.

These are the demigods you once swore to protect. You can't afford to disrupt the fragile peace that binds them together, even if your heart screams for justice.

Feeling the weight of the collective gaze, you reluctantly sink back into your seat. The metal chair feels cold against your skin, mirroring the chill that has settled in your heart.

Immediately after breakfast, the head counselors for every cabin meet at the Big House for yet another meeting. You’re back in the middle of the room, all eyes on you as you implore your friends to stick up for Rose.

"You can't go through with this," you express with exasperation, directing your gaze at Mina and Mingyu.

Mina dismissively shakes her head, her expression resolute. "It's not just about you," she emphasizes, "Well, it is but it's also about the principles we stand for in this camp. Trust, transparency, and accountability are crucial, especially when lives are at stake. Rose's actions have raised questions about the very foundations of our community."

The weight of Mina's words hangs in the air, and you can sense the gravity of the situation settling in the room.

“Killing Gaia my way was the only way, and I can prove it,” you counter. “Rose did the right thing. She saved the world.”

Mark, your little brother, steps forward and places a comforting shoulder on the small of your back.

“Jungkook is right,” Mina adds, “We were on a quest for six months to find you. She should have said something, but she didn't. She committed a crime against the Roman Legion."

At the mention of Jungkook's name, your gaze shifts toward him. He's leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, eyes trained downward.

You shake your head. “The Physician’s Cure was a prototype. We both knew that it probably wouldn’t work. What’s the point of bringing it up? To turn the six month quest into a year long quest? You have to understand her-“

Jaehyun grimaces, biting his lip, immediately speaking up. “Y/N, you don’t get it. After you died, it was rough. Really rough. Rose is in the wrong. She should have said something. She alone could have provided us more clarity, more closure.”

"And this isn't just about you; it's about the entire quest, the well-being of everyone involved,” Namjoon adds, his expression grave. “Hiding the details of your death is a serious offense in the eyes of both gods and mortals.”

You pause. “I get it. I really do, but what was she supposed to do? Would she have gone to jail for ‘conspiring in my death’ if she said anything? The reason we planned it out without telling you guys was because we knew you would stop me. The quest takes precedence. We had to put the quest first. And that’s what we did.”

Jisoo intervenes. “Y/N has a point. If Rosie mentioned the Physician’s Cure, would that have made a difference? It would have just left us with uncertainty, and we would have gone in circles around the world clinging on to hope. Isn’t it good that we moved forward?”

The room stills at Jisoo’s comment, silently acknowledging the validity of her point.

Ignorance is bliss, and Rose left both camps blissfully ignorant, free to move forward with the closure that they exhausted all efforts to find you.

You venture to ask something at that moment. “If I told you guys what I was planning… would you have stopped me?” You finally ask, eyes flickering to the demigods present on the quest.

Mina shakes her head almost immediately. “I wouldn’t have. You’re right Y/N. The quest takes precedence and the prophecy clearly states ‘To storm or fire the world must fall’.”

“I would have,” Taehyung states. “100%, and I wouldn't do anything differently if it happened today.”

“I-“ you look around, “I can prove why it had to be fire and not storm. Mingyu, your plan would have never worked in the sense that there would have been too much collateral damage.”

Mingyu tilts his head at your comment, and you whip out a white board marker, approaching the white board on the wall.

“Do you know how hot I burned to incinerate Gaia?” you ask everyone, and everybody’s eyes follow you- even Jungkook’s, listening and watching intently.

In bright red letters, you write 1,200-2,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

“That’s how hot lava burns,” you explain, pausing before you write another figure on the board.

10,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

“I burned at 10,000 degrees when I finally incinerated Gaia,” you state, and everybody looks dumbfounded at the number, unable to comprehend how hot 10,000 degrees actually is. “That’s as hot as the surface of the sun. At 10,000 degrees, matter does not exist, atoms do not exist- it simply implodes.”

The next thing you write on the board is

Saffir Sampson Hurricane Wind Scale.

Pointing to it, you explain, “This is how we measure intensity of storms. It rates hurricanes from Category 1 to Category 5 based on wind speeds. The deadliest hurricane on this scale was Hurricane Mitch in 1998, with wind speeds exceeding 155 miles per hour,” you explain, writing 155 MPH on the board.

Everyone appears to be aware of the direction you're heading, yet you still need to articulate it to drive your point home.

“Hurricane Mitch resulted in 11,000 to 19,000 fatalities, and I’m not even talking about injuries or displacement. So imagine the devastation of a storm with an intensity equivalent to 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit!”

Namjoon tilts his head, rising. “I get what you’re saying but that argument won’t hold up in court. Conversion metrics between temperature and speed don’t exist in Science- but hypothetically, a storm strong enough to kill Gaia would also kill a lot of people in its wake.”

You nod vigorously. “So Rose, by keeping a secret, killed Gaia and potentially saved the lives of thousands! Beyond that, you’re free to question her moral integrity, but it wouldn’t make a difference anyways!”

The features of Mingyu, the man who is responsible for stirring this hypothetical storm, morph into deep contemplation. “You’re free to argue that in court, Y/N. Our job is to uphold Roman law. I’m sorry.”

Your testimony for Rose in court reveals to be successful. The charges are dropped against Rose, and she is reinstated as the Official Healer for the Roman Legion.

However, Rose’s acquittal fails to supersede the animosity, hatred, and damage that have infiltrated the once-unbreakable bond among the seven demigods who triumphed over the Earth mother Gaia.

While the evil primordial goddess was physically dead, she successfully sowed her seeds of disdain within your group of friends.

The tension between Rose, Mina and Mingyu is more palpable than ever. How can a friendship be repaired after your best friends send you to jail? Rose refuses to talk to Mina and you can’t blame her. Nor can you blame Mina and Mingyu. You understand the rigidity of the role of Praetor, and Mina and Mingyu were simply fulfilling their duty.

At the same time, Jungkook still refuses to acknowledge your existence. If he sees you, he turns the opposite direction, not batting a lash at you.

The hurt in his eyes and the bitterness in his actions show how horribly he feels betrayed, and it makes you sick to your stomach. Despite Namjoon and Taehyung's assurances that he'll eventually come around, your intuition tells you that Jungkook's actions aren’t a choice he’s making willingly, but rather a burden too heavy for him to bear.

The bonds that once held your group together are now strained with secrets, regrets, and the harsh realities of the decisions you made.

You can’t even fathom how or if your friendships will ever be repaired. The wounds go deep, leaving scars that aren't just physical – they're emotional and psychological, ingrained in the very essence of your shared history.

It’s only three months after your miraculous return that Jungkook speaks to you.

By this time, the construction of the 18+ cabins were complete, meaning that all demigods over the age of 18 were given their own quarters separate from their little siblings.

Jungwon, a thirteen year old kid from the Ares cabin, established his name amongst Camp Half-Blood as the next best swordsman after Jungkook, of course.

Last month, he ventured on a quest now dubbed the Quest to the City Stuck in Time. Eldritch Haven, a quaint city in Maine, became seemingly stuck in time. The Oracle only called for a 13 year old Jungwon, calling him to eradicate the threat of the Lamented Souls- vengeful spirits ensnaring the city in a temporal web.

As requested by Chiron, you forged Jungwon a brand new Celestial Bronze blade called Kataklysmós, or Cataclysm, the forthbringer of destruction.

Armed with the freshly crafted blade, you secure it in its sheath and make your way to the Ares cabins. Of course, Jungwon resides in the cabin for minors, so you politely knock on the door to present him with his newly forged blade.

The door knob turns and to your surprise, Jungkook greets you.

He gazes at you, his expression devoid of any emotion, and his eyes pass from your face to the sword held in your hand.

“Come in.”

You abhor how he addresses you with such formality.

You follow Jungkook to the living room within the cabin, gingerly taking a seat on the leather sofa before Jungwon pops out from the adjacent room. He greets you with a firm and brief handshake before sitting on the couch in front of you.

Jungkook looms behind his younger brother, arms crossed as he scrutinizes every inch of your face. Gods, as handsome as he was, he also is the most terrifying and intimidating man you’ve ever encountered.

You clear your throat and unsheathe the blade. “Jungwon, I present you with the Kataklysmós. Henceforth, this blade shall be your weapon of choice on quests and your primary tool against monsters. Your skills were recognized by Chiron, and he prompted me to design and construct the finest sword I’ve ever created.”

Jungwon's eyes gleam as they lock onto the sword, sparkling against the silver reflection of the blade. Anyone could tell that this kid has fallen in love at first sight.

Honestly, you feel the same. This blade is the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen. Kataklysmós is a celestial bronze blade adorned with intricate engravings depicting scenes of Jungwon slicing through the Lamented Souls. Its hilt, crafted from Stygian iron, features a blood-red gemstone at its pommel, a gemstone embedded with divine magic.

“Not only does this sword enhance the weapon's slicing capability, it is magically embedded with divine magic. So, long as you form a soul link with your weapon, Kataklysmós will absorb the essence of fallen enemies, temporarily enhancing the wielder's strength and combat prowess.”

A small gasp leaves Jungwon’s lips and his gaze shifts from the sword to you. “What?” he asks like his breath has been taken away.

“A soul binding link,” you clarify, “You have to form a bond with your weapon for its celestial energy to be channeled,” your eyes flicker towards Jungkook whose features are twisted in a mixture of confusion and curiosity, and his face slightly disorients you so you clear your throat.

“This is new technology. My little brother Mark, Chiron, and I have been working on forging weapons with magical enhancement,” you elaborate.

“Weapons with divine energy from ancient times exist, but creating one has been a significantly challenging process” you continue, looking back at Jungwon, “So I don’t know exactly how you’ll form a soul tie with your blade, but I know you can do it. Chiron chose you to be the first wielder of a magically enhanced weapon for a reason.” You offer Jungwon a sisterly smile, and he appears like a fish, unable to comprehend your words.

“If this is the first weapon, doesn’t Cataclysm run the risk of causing harm to Jungwon?” Jungkook jumps in, question stern and abrupt.

You shake your head, locking eyes with him. “Magical enhancements don’t work that way. It only runs the risk of not working. It can only cause harm to its user if I enchanted it with some evil spell,” you confirm.

“Gonna pull out a whiteboard to explain that too? We have one in the other room,” he shrugs.

You wish there was someone you knew to exchange uncomfortable glances with, because was he cracking a joke after not acknowledging your existence for three months?

“Um-“

“Excuse my brother,” Jungwon intervenes, “It truly is a blessing to be the first candidate chosen to weild an enchanted blade. Thank you, Y/N.”

Observing Jungwon fixedly gazing at you with earnest eyes, you can’t help but think that 13-year old Jungwon is a stark contrast from 13-year old Jungkook. Jungwon is polite, a sweetie pie if you’ve ever seen one. 13-year old Jungkook cursed at Chiron, was a fireball of impulsivity, wreaking havoc everywhere he went.

You smile. “Yea Jungwon. I know you can do it. Congratulations on your last quest.”

“However, I do need you to keep a log of your progress," you add, retrieving a small notebook from your pocket. "Every day, as you work on forming a soul tie, fill out the form in this book. It's straightforward, covering things like the time you spent practicing with the sword and your thoughts during the process."

Jungwon nods, taking the logbook from you before flipping through it. “Got it, Y/N, and can I find you in the Hephaestus cabin if I have any questions?”

You nod. “Any time.”

With that, Jungwon gives you a final handshake before hurrying off to the dueling arena to practice parries and strikes.

You're on the verge of leaving when Jungkook clasps his arm around your wrist. His touch feels electrifying, and you look up at him.

"Let's talk."

Jungkook takes you to the 18+ Ares cabins, where so far, he is the only resident. The cabin looks different from how you constructed it, littered with his own personal Jungkook touch.

A sleek flat screen TV sits in the front of the room of the TV, a leather black couch you don’t recognize is littered with Hello Kitty plushies, probably from his girlfriend. The thought makes you nauseous.

You sit on the leather couch, watching as Jungkook whisks towards the kitchen to fill up a glass of water before handing it to you.

He sits next to you, his hands resting on his thighs. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he states, and you’re a bit taken aback.

“Do you.. do you know what my fatal flaw is?” he continues, addressing you directly, not looking away even when you fail to meet his eyes.

Despite the years of separation, the answer is clear to you. With Jungkook, it was painfully obvious, and you caught on immediately during your adventures in Tartarus.

“Yea,” you respond, “Love. Your fatal flaw is love.”

He nods, seemingly a bit taken aback before releasing a relieved laughter. “Of course.” He smiles cheekily to himself, a wave of nostalgia seemingly crashing over him.

“That’s why..” Jungkook trails off, “That’s why I was so sensitive to… to your death,” he finishes. “I led the quest for six months around the world, and when we couldn’t find you, I left Camp Half-Blood for a year.”

You nod. You heard from the others what had occurred during your absence, but hearing it from Jungkook still makes your stomach drop. “I’m sorry Jungkook-“

“No,” he cuts you off, “I get it. You were right. Mine and Mingyu’s plan would have never worked. In the end, it was my fault,” He looks forward, a gleam of despondence reflective in his eyes, “I couldn’t protect you. It was my weakness that forced you to do something so dire, and you paid the price with your life.”

“This whole thing,” Jungkook continues, “This whole thing is a mess. The more I think about it, we were so young. Why did we have to go through all that?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“If you told me about your plan, I would have gone ballistic,” he describes, face twisting with emotion, “And- and if Rosie told me what actually happened, gods, I would have destroyed Apollo’s shrine with my bare hands.”

“So maybe you were right to hide it from me. It sucks to say it, but our relationship was a small price to pay for saving the world, and as demigods we have to bear that burden.”

Your hands still, and this impulsive little demon living inside you is screaming tell him you love him, tell him you want him! Instead, you shakily exhale, blinking tears from your eyes.

Usually, when you cry, Jungkook wipes your tears or counsels you with his embrace.

This time he does nothing.

“We were kids,” he concurs, “The gods put us in this situation. You did your best, Y/N. Thank you for serving diligently.”

Unknowingly, your hands grasp onto the Hello Kitty plushie by your side, mistaking it for a pillow to hold. When you realize what you're clutching, you quickly set it down. “Sorry. That’s from... your—your—“

“My girlfriend?” Jungkook finishes, “My girlfriend…” he trails off, “Do you think I would even be speaking to you if I still had a girlfriend?”

You blink at him. “Did you guys.. break up?” You don’t realize you're holding your breath until you sigh in relief at his response.

“Yea,” he agrees. “Sofia’s a good girl. She needs someone who can love her, take care of her. I guess a kid of Ares isn’t that guy. She said I was too emotionally unavailable and found some other guy in Camp Jupiter.” He shrugs it off.

You’re a bit taken aback by that. Sofia seemed so enamored with Jungkook; you can’t fathom that she was the one to break it off.

Jungkook bitterly laughs. “The gods fucked us up so bad no one in our generation will ever get married.”

You know Jungkook is doing his Jungkook thing by coping with humor, but you can’t bring yourself to laugh along. Looking down with despondency at the Hello Kitty plushie, a sad “Yea,” is all you’re able to conjure.

As you both stare at the Hello Kitty plushy, Jungkook breaks the somber atmosphere with a casual tone. "So Y/N, friends?" he asks, a small smile playing on his lips. "It sucks to not talk to you—I mean, I still use this stupid knife all the time," he says, pointing to the Celestial Bronze knife you crafted for him all those years ago.

You smile, nodding at Jungkook. “Yea,” you concur, “Friends.”

Rebuilding your friendship with Jungkook was a lovely experience. You loved him and wanted him in any way, and if that was to be platonic, you would take it.

Countless hours were spent in the 18+ Poseidon cabin, immersed in the cool waters of Taehyung’s pool. Jungkook joined you in the forge, learning how to craft magically embedded weapons, and for an Ares kid, he wasn’t so horrible at it. As counselors for your cabins, you both emerged as pillars and leaders for the young demigods, echoing the very positions you once occupied years ago.

Neither of you dared to cross the boundary between friendship and love, and maybe it was better that way. It was too painful to love. There was too much at risk.

At 23, Jungkook embarks on a one-year journey to Camp Jupiter, assuming the role of Assistant Commander for the Roman Legion. A Greek in the Roman Legion was almost unheard of, but Jungkook who was highly respected for everything he accomplished, seized an unprecedented opportunity.

At 24, you find yourself presented with the opportunity to work in your father Hephaestus's forge for a year. Immediately, you accept it and bid goodbye to your friends in Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood.

And at age 25, you return to Earth, reuniting with Jungkook at Camp Jupiter for a meeting- a meeting of seemingly great importance, considering that the most powerful demigods have been summoned to gather.

25 years old

As Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook, and you meander around the grounds of New Rome, you explore the coffee shops, savoring the thrill of the bustling city and immersing yourselves in the rich tapestry of its culture.

You’re standing by a statue of your father in his Roman form Vulcan, posing with Namjoon for the photo while Jungkook snaps a shot.

You skip over to Jungkook, looking over his shoulder to view the photo before you’re tackled to the ground.

“Y/N! You bitch!” Rose, daughter of Apollo, is on top of you, holding her Imperial Gold dagger to your neck. She’s fuming, her face scrunched in hatred, and you already know what this is about.

Jungkook, Namjoon, and Taehyung aren’t sure if they should intervene; perhaps this was the cute new way you girls greeted each other (?)

Namjoon intervenes only when Rose starts drawing blood from your neck, and somehow, Rose has acquired monstrous strength, as she doesn't budge an inch when. Instead, she elbows him in the crotch and Namjoon falls to the floor with a thud.

Apollo: 1. Athena: 0.

“Y/N, you fucked my dad?!” Rose seethes, threatening to push the dagger further into your neck.

“Get off!” You employ your feet to push her away from your body and start wiping the blood from your neck.

Romantic entanglements between gods and demigods weren't uncommon. In various stories from Greek mythology, gods were known for their pursuits of mortal beings, including demigods. Quite frankly, the gods didn’t care that demigods were children of the other gods- they really had no decency. Anyone was free game.

“I did not fuck your dad!” you enunciate, “He came after me. I turned him down every time.”

“You liar!” She hisses, and suddenly she eerily resembles Lamia- the same demon who tried to kill you multiple times- before she pounces after you. Before you can comprehend it, you’re sprinting away.

Thank the gods Taehyung, your knight in shining armor, restrains Rose, locking her wrists behind her back. “Gods Rose, it’s not Y/N’s fault your dad is a slut,” Taehyung murmurs, looking up and raising his brows in amusement.

Rose quite literally growls at that, trying to release herself from Taehyung’s grip, and honestly you’re scared she’s going to kill you.

“Y/N, I swear to the gods- if you fucked my dad, I’m going to murder you,” she hisses, fuming from her ears.

“I did not fuck your dad! Are you insane?!”

“Taehyung, let me go!” Rose screams, “I’m not going to do anything, just let me go!” She screeches. Taehyung obliges and she falls on her face.

Her chest rises up and down while she catches her breath. She looks up at you, murderous intent still in her eyes. “Tell me everything that happened.”

During your time on Olympus, the god Apollo approached you in the forge multiple times, attempting to coax you into sleeping with him. You weren’t flattered, nor were you offended. It was Apollo being Apollo.

Under the protection of your father, you were able to pretend that he didn’t exist. Hephaestus soon got fed up and engineered a metal net to put an end to Apollo’s visits.

That’s how you, Namjoon, Taehyung, Jungkook and Rose end up at a nearby cafe, chowing down on pizza while you retell the story.

“Why are you blaming me for this?” you deadpan, “In what world would you be blaming me for your dad trying to sleep with me?”

Rose slams her face on the table, “I had a dream, Y/N. Not a dream, a fucking nightmare. I had a very vivid and repulsive dream of you and my father and I- I- Gods, my daddy issues are so horrible,” she mutters into the metal surface.

Jungkook places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Yea, me too,” he concurs, blankly staring into the atmosphere.

Taehyung dismisses the notion with a wave of his hand, “You should’ve known it was a dream and not a vision. My Y/N’s a good girl- she doesn’t do stuff like that.” Teasingly, he inches closer towards you and drapes an arm over your shoulder.

Your features twist in disgust and you whack him in the head with a rolled up newspaper.

Jungkook shrugs, "Y/N is beautiful. We all know that. It was bound to happen eventually," he takes a sip from his iced coffee, so nonchalant, like he doesn’t know how you desperately cling on to his every word, dying a little inside at his little compliment.

Namjoon side-eyes you.

Rose scoffs, glaring at Jungkook, “My father. My father tried to fuck my best friend. That wasn’t just bound to happen.”

Taehyung grins, “Y/N kissed your brother and then fucked your dad. Are you sure she’s your best friend?” he muses, so blatantly trying to trigger another cat fight between you and Rose.

Instead, you both frown deeply at him.

“So are you going to apologize to me for elbowing me in the balls or-”

“Gods Namjoon, I’m sorry. I was in the wrong. Blah, blah, blah,”

While Taehyung, Namjoon, and Rose bicker amongst each other Jungkook turns towards you, pointing to his neck, prompting you to look down at yours. “Want me to bandage it for you?” he mouths, to which you shake your head.

Rose didn’t cut you that deep. A sip of ambrosia would do the trick.

“You sure?” he mouths.

You nod. “It’s all good.”

The Senate House is home to important gatherings, crucial decisions, and the collective wisdom of the Roman demigods who shape the destiny of New Rome.

As you enter, you can feel the palpable tension in the air, making it seem colder than the rest of New Rome.

Jennie, daughter of Hades, stands at the podium, her stunning features clouded with pure exhaustion. She looks like a walking corpse with her cheekbones caved in and a gray shadow casting over her face. The aura she exudes is so dark that you can feel its weight from meters away.

She locks eyes with you but quickly averts her gaze, beads of cold sweat forming on her forehead. She begins trembling intensely, and Mina, daughter of Venus and the Praetor of the Roman Legion, rushes over to hand Jennie a bottle of water.

In the corner of your eye, you notice Mingyu conversing with another soldier in the Roman Legion. He seems taller and more muscular, his usual playful demeanor crushed under the weight of a serious expression on his face. He oddly resembles Atlas, a titan forced to hold the weight of the sky, and it sends chills down your body.

Timidly, you take a seat in the audience and wait for the meeting to be called into order.

Mina and Mingyu step in front of the podium. "Senators and esteemed demigods of Rome and Greece, your immediate attention is required. We gather here not in routine matters, but in the face of an unprecedented and dire threat. Our very existence is under siege, and the safety of our camp hangs in the balance,” Mina begins

“I beseech you, lend me your ears and hearts, for what I am about to reveal is of utmost gravity. Recent developments have uncovered a menace that surpasses any we have faced before. The threads of fate are unraveling, and the forces that threaten us are ancient, powerful, and malevolent,” Mingyu continues before glancing at Jennie.

With a gulp, she addresses the assembly through the microphone. “Hades, my father, has lost his reign over the Underworld. The primordial god Tartarus has plunged the Underworld into chaos and is plotting to ascend to the surface, aiming to annihilate both demigods and gods.”

Her gaze shifts towards you and Jungkook. "He has somehow taken control of my body, sending me vivid and disturbing dreams. He's furious and demands a sacrifice – a sacrifice of the demigods who once intruded into Tartarus six years ago. If we don't comply, he threatens to rise to Earth through the surface of Camp Jupiter, annihilating Camp Jupiter completely upon his return."

thanks for reading this far :) if u want then check out the

author’s note

#demigod!enhypen #demigod au #demigod!jungkook #demigod!bts #jk fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #heroes of olympus

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loveemagicpeace · 8 months

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Some Astrological Things

Your chart :

Upper half- having the majority of planets here suggests orientation twards the outside world and public life.

Lower half- having the majority of planets here suggests a life away from limelight in a more private life.

East- having the majority of planets here suggests a focus on the self.

West- having the majority of planets here suggests focus on relationships.

🫧Unaspected planets plays a key role too. It represents an inner drive that the person may find difficult to connect to or feel in control of. Aspect patterns reflect a complex inner pattern.

☀️☁️Neptune opposite Sun might reflect a sence of loss in connection to father and therefore a longing for masculine power.

🏝️Pluto, Neptune, and Uranus transits take at least one year from first to last "hit". They bring the most profound events and changes. Jupiter, Saturn, and Chiron transits can also have deep impact but are shorter.

🥑Transit aspect: Venus - Uranus, it can give the feeling that we have fallen in love with someone but we don't know why. Because it happens in such a strange and unpredictable way. But when we fall in love under the transit of Venus - Pluto, we feel love very deeply and in a way that we have never experienced before - which can mean that the feelings last forever. Pluto transits is almost always very deep and then many times we come to some realization and transformation that changes our life.

If you have planets in Taurus, feeling rushed can bring anxiety, if planets in Sagittarius, stress comes from having to fit yourself into a pre-set plan.

Belief🌠

💫Fire -Of the four elements, fire is the most naturally attuned to the idea of belief and the more planets you have in fire signs the more you might be comfortable with believing in something you cannot see. Air -On the other hand, air tends to be the cynic, needing a logical argument and trying to apply rationality to matters of faith. Earth is the pragmatist, perhaps more given I to living life in the here-and-now - or perhaps God is to be found in nature rather than floating on a cloud. Water is usually content with the unanswered questions that abound in religion; for a watery person, it does not need to be neatly worked out, as long as it makes sense inside.

Party🌉

🎸🍦The Sun and Jupiter - both have a celebratory feel to them - or at least, whatever signs and houses they occupy in your chart will say something about what, or who, brings out a sense of good will, generosity, and playfulness in you. Because these two planets are most inclined to where you find fun and light.

With the Sun in the 7th for instance, you can make other people feel special and golden. Sun in 4th house your family can give you a lot of support and light. Jupiter in Sagittarius or Leo might naturally lean towards joviality and good cheer - Jupiter in Capricorn or Virgo might be more circumspect but are more likely to keep the party budget under control.

Fire and air signs will show energy more outwardly and will be more ready to party. Water and earth signs tend to be more introverted.

🩷Childhood and Memories⛵️🧸

Water and fire signs are most connected to memories and to always renewing or remembering them. There is also a lot of connection with childhood. Most of the time, Leos are looking for childish energy and doing teenage things. They never really grow inside. Cancers often still like cartoons or toys that are related to their childhood.

Relationships🫀

7th & 8th house -These are the relationship houses, reflecting how you feel about emotional commitment. The 7th suggests a contract and a part of you encountered through the partners you choose. The 8th takes you into emotional entanglement on a soul level. If you have pluto here means you will always feel like you want to be in control of the relationship. With moon here you may feel that your emotions depend on your partner or you may quickly become attached to him

🍓Venus, which represents the relationships we have, also influences us by showing what we value most and what creates a problem in the relationship. Venus in Sagittarius wants a partner with a sense of adventure, passion, life, optimism. Venus in Capricorn values commitment. Venus in Pisces appreciates someone who expresses emotions, is spiritual. Venus in Gemini appreciate someone who talks a lot and has spontaneous energy.

🫧Astrology suggests we have choices - no matter how "fated" or beyond our control a situation may seem, it suggests we can alter our reality through a change of perspective, using imagination to re-vision our approach. Symbols do not tell us precisely what to do; instead they open our creative awareness and invite participation as co-creators of our own destiny.

✨Ig- bekylibra✨

-Rebekah⛵️🌙

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #planets #my notes #astrological houses #astrology observations #things

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capnsoapy · 1 year

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i have become unhealthily obsessed with trying to categorise the Nine Resurrection Beasts

• In Harrow the Ninth, chapter two, John Gaius tells Harrow there are nine Beasts. He says that they have killed five and that there are three left. Harrow mentally notes that the maths don't add up, but knowing that Alecto is an RB makes it compute (3 out there, 5 dead, 1 imprisoned). Although frustratingly, John only enumerates three of the dead (Two, Six, and Eight), leaving six RBs left to sort; one is Alecto, two are dead, and three are threats.

• In Harrow the Ninth, chapter thirty-six, the Lyctors encounter the Seventh RB, and in planning for this showdown recount some of their previous attempts at fighting RBs; the late Two, Six, and Eight, as well as One and Four. This confirms that Seven is alive, and that One and Four are not Alecto. In this same chapter, Seven is described as both "brood of [Six]" and "packmate of [Eight]", implying some close connection between this string of numbers but nothing concrete.

• In Nona the Ninth, Nona/Alecto speaks with the Seventh Beast, and refers to it by name; Varun. With Waruna being the old Malay name for Neptune, and Varuna being the Hindu God of the seas, this pretty solidly points to the Seventh RB being the revenant soul of Neptune. Varun recognises Nona/Alecto as being the revenant of Earth also.

So all that tells us is;

Described as "a great and incoherent machine".

Dead.

Unknown.

Described as "a humanoid creature with a beautiful face".

Unknown.

Dead.

Alive. Revenant of Neptune.

Dead.

Unknown.

Two of 1, 3, 4, 5, and 9 are dead. My guess is 1 and 4; Mercymorn doesn't explicitely say that they are killed but they're mentioned alongside the three confirmed kills. One of 3, 5, or 9 must be Alecto. My guess is 9; simply due to the "the Ninth" suffix for Nona and Alecto needing to refer to something. Also, it's plausible that her identity as an RB went unknown until after the other eight had been indexed.

So if you add some speculation (canon in bold, guesswork in italics), you get;

Dead

Alive

Dead

Alive

Dead

Alive (Neptune)

Dead

Alive (Earth)

The trail runs cold there. The only thing left to do is speculate wildly based on the physical descriptions of the Beasts let's go!

The Second Beast "spewed quicksilver...". Quicksilver is the planetary metallic name for mercury, so 2 = Mercury. The Fourth Beast had "a beautiful face". Beauty = love and love = Venus so 4 = Venus. The First Beast had "swords for wings". Swords are for war and so 1 = Mars. The Sixth Beast had "enormous sphincters". So. 6 = Uranus. The Eighth Beast "was red, and it had a single eye". Possibly referring to the Great Red Spot? So 8 = Jupiter.

And... I think that's about as far as I can go.

Dead (Mars)

Dead (Mercury)

Alive (Saturn/Pluto)

Dead (Venus)

Alive (Saturn/Pluto)

Dead (Uranus)

Alive (Neptune)

Dead (Jupiter)

Alive (Earth)

If any of this wild speculation disagrees with yours. I fully believe that Tamsyn has left us enough breadcrumbs to connect the planets, the houses, the saints, and the beasts together and we just need to find them

...

oh, and what about the Sun?

#1k+ club #tlt #the locked tomb #ntn spoilers #tlt spoilers

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fenrislorsrai · 9 months

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The Crow Road

I did in fact read The Crow Road because of Good Omens and it was very meandering with a lot of character study. For a thing summarized as "trying to solve a mystery from papers left behind" it was very uninterested in doing so. It didn't even introduce them for first 100 pages, then didn't refer to them for another 100, then LOST THEM ON THE TRAIN. The book itself is mostly a distraction from solving actual mystery. In no way would I classify this as being Mystery, as in the genre. This is a family saga/coming of age thing. I did enjoy it, but if you're expecting a genre fiction thing, you will hate it.

ANYWAY.

Then we get to the last 20 pages or so of the book and OH MY FUCKING GOD

the rest of this is going under a cut for anyone who actually wants to read The Crow Road themself, but for everyone else, this is directly relevant to the end of season 2, episode 6 AND is NSFW

Toward end of book, MC Prentice figures out "oh, maybe I am actually in love with my best friend, Ash, I should tell here". Oh shit, she's taking a job and moving to Canada! FUCK. Well telling her now is not gonna do anything good here, I blew it.

Ash meanwhile comes to stay with him in his rented place before having to fly out in the morning. The place is tied up in an estate dispute. It has an enormous four poster bed in a room covered in naked paintings of Venus. And mirrors. Pointed at the bed.

They go out for dinner and have a conversation of who owes who for dinner and decide its neither. They walk around a little bit reminiscing about when they were in school. Prentice had once broken her nose with a snowball and thought she didn't know. She says she forgave him right away. It also turns out she knew he was using morse code to tap out rude things at their French teacher.

They get back to the house and she says she's going to turn in early. Goes to give him a kiss on cheek. WHich then turns into kissing. and grabbing ass. They head to the bedroom of Fucking to do just that.

have a couple round and then while tangled up doing effectively some cockwarming, Ash does a little rhymic squeezing via morse code to spell out I-L-U and he does some cock moving to spell out I-L-U-T she still gets up in morning to leave, tehre's that brief, but what if I convince you to stay??? and they basically both agree "no, this is a breakup for work." Ash goes off to do her work contract, Prentice is going to finish his degree and sell the Bentley he just inherited. The split is not forever.

I did not have love confession via morse code while fucking on my bingo card AT ALL.

But good god, that ending there and the kiss there at the end of season2. OH RIGHT, THEY BOTH HAVE DONE SPY STUFF!!! What the fuck are Aziraphale's hands doing? are they frenching with morse code? IF THAT IS WHAT HAPPENED AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

#good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #gomens 2 #the crow road #good omens season 2 episode 6 theories #do not tag him on this to ask for confirmation #he read the book he knows what he did #don't tag him

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serasvictoria · 2 years

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Title: Pretty Persuasion

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: You are the proud owner of Hawkins Records and have been for some years now, but dwindling sales mean that you might be forced to close the store that you love so much. Help comes in the form of Eddie Munson, former friend and frontman of a very successful band, but since the two of you hadn't parted in the best way 12 years ago there is no telling what will happen when you reunite again.

Word Count: 19.398

Content warning: 18+ mdni. Porn with lots of feelings. I am not joking, there are a lot of feels in this. Two idiots in love. Swearing. Oral (m and f receiving). Unprotected sex (p in v). Alcohol use, but nothing outrageous. Short haired Eddie (hey, if the guys from Metallica got a haircut in the 90s, Eddie can get one too). Please let me know if I missed something!

Notes: This story takes place in 1996 and Eddie and Reader are both 30 years old. Reader character graduated in 1984, the year that Eddie was supposed to have graduated as well, and left Hawkins shortly afterwards.

I made a playlist for this that I played whilst writing and it can be found right here for people that are interested. It's mainly alternative music from the 90s from bands that I love.

Beta read by the lovely Pearl. Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @adrille88 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @quantumlocked310 @kaybee87 @istorkyou

“Hawkins Records, how can I help you?”

Eddie bit his bottom lip. This was crazy. This was probably the craziest idea that he ever had in his entire life.

“Hello?” He swallowed and before he could answer, the feminine voice on the other end started talking again. “Chase, is that you again? I can hear you breathing down the phone, you fucking perv. I swear to god if you call again I will fucking end you. We’re talking about me taking a pair of garden scissors to your house and cutting off your balls.”

“Wow,” Eddie said with a laugh. “Jesus. Harsh.”

“Oh.“ The surprise in her tone is clearly audible, even in just that one word. “I’m sorry, but we’ve been having some issues.”

“I can tell.” He laughed again and ran his hand through his hair nervously. “Look, I’ll make it quick, because I don’t want that guy to miss out on your furious, and might I add, sexy voice…”

“Fuck you,” the voice on the other end countered with a chuckle of her own. “But what can I do for you then? Want me to hold a copy of the Alice in Chains Unplugged CD for you?”

“Nah, thanks, I already have one,” he replied.

“Lucky you.” Eddie decided not to mention that he was given a copy by Jerry Cantrell himself. He didn’t like to brag. “So? What do you need?”

“Well, it’s not about what I need, but about what you need.” He could hear her groan on the other end so he kept talking before she gave him a lashing with her tongue (which he wouldn’t have minded much to be honest and he hadn’t even seen the girl). “I heard that the store isn’t doing too great…”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded decidedly smaller then, with a lot less confidence and bravado as before. “We got til the end of the year,” she sighed. “Unless I win the fucking lottery or something.”

“Guess this is your lucky day then, because I can make all your troubles go away,” he snapped his fingers next to the mouthpiece. “Just like that.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I want to make you an offer you can’t refuse...”

That was two weeks ago.

And now Eddie Munson was on his way to Hawkins Records.

Eddie Fucking Munson. Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson as almost everyone at school used to call him. Eddie, the singer and lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, the band that you’d seen play many a time at The Hideout before they’d made it big.

It was insane that you could even say that you once knew the frontman of a band that played at sold out venues all over the world. It had taken them years to get there, but they had made it.

While you had been away at college, Gareth, their drummer, graduated and shortly thereafter all four of them had left Hawkins to record a demo in Indianapolis.

Their self-titled demo was available in the store, still did reasonably well actually, and it got reprinted almost every single year. The first pressings were worth quite a bit of money and you actually had two of them upstairs, something that you had been saving for a “rainy day”. You had been slowly trying to get yourself used to the fact that that day might come a lot sooner than you thought, but then Eddie had called to make his offer, to buy the store and thus taking care of all your financial difficulties.

If he had been serious about it at all that was.

Because there was every chance that he might change his mind when he found out that you were the current owner. There was a history between the two of you that you’d rather not think of, but for all you knew, Eddie could turn on his heel and walk straight out again as soon as he saw your face.

The bell above the door rings and you instantly call out, “He’s not here yet.”

It didn't take a genius to figure out who had come round to check if Eddie had arrived. Again. It was only the ninth time that he had come round since the store had opened almost four hours ago.

Hurried footsteps approached the counter and when he reached it, his fingers started drumming on the old wood nervously. “He said that he’d be here over an hour ago,” Dustin says as he keeps his eyes firmly pointed at the door.

“Maybe he’s stuck in traffic somewhere,” you reply as you turn the page of the current edition of Rolling Stone magazine, something that you were barely reading at all. It had Jenny McCarthy on the cover with a hotdog that she was spraying loads of mustard on in a suggestive manner. “Or you know, it could all be some elaborate joke.”

“He’d never do that.” Dustin looks slightly shocked that you even suggested that at all. His curly hair, which was usually hidden underneath a cap, was slicked back. There was so much wet-look gel in it that it shone like crazy. “Eddie loves this place.”

“I know,” you reply with an annoyed tone in your voice. Looking back down at the page, the words ‘An artist wears his work in place of wounds’ in a Patti Smith article caught your attention. “I used to come here with him, you know.”

Whenever Eddie had money to spare, he’d be in here and looking for new releases. When he was listening to something that he liked, which was often, he’d pull the worn headphones off his head and shove them in your face, while excitedly telling you, “You’ve got to hear this.”

You had been with him when he bought Judas Priests’ Defenders of the Faith for example, which had been proclaimed as the best thing ever by Eddie at the time. The then owner, Rob, had later gifted a poster with the cover art on it to Eddie which he had stuck to his bedroom wall that same afternoon. You also distinctly remembered Eddie making fun of your, sometimes poor, taste in music, like when you had bought R.E.M.’s Murmur, a band that you still loved and whose second album you were playing right now.

Every good memory of your teenage years was tied up to this store.

And to Eddie Munson.

“It’s why you took over, right?”

“What?” Your mouth falls open, completely in shock over his question. “I didn’t buy this store because of Eddie! W-why would I- fuck. That would be so incredibly stupid!” Dustin raises an eyebrow, obviously not believing you. “I didn’t! I love this place and I didn’t want to see it turned into another run of the mill store. And look where that got me.”

“It’s okay,” Dustin replies as his fingernail picks at a loose piece of veneer on the old counter. “Eddie will save the day.”

“Yeah right. I still say that all this is some elaborate pr-“

Before you can finish your sentence, the door suddenly swings open, making the bell ring again. You didn’t look up from your magazine this time either, especially not when you heard that voice.

“Jesus. This place hasn’t changed a bit.”

You gave yourself a quick once over and deemed yourself passable enough. Since you had been half convinced that Eddie was never going to show, you hadn't even attempted to dress up. It was hot as fuck too, the height of summer, and the old AC barely offered enough in terms of cooling the place down, so you had opted for a pair of jean shorts and a black tank top with the name of the record store printed on it.

At least the clothes were clean. Thank god for that.

Despite not wanting to, fearful of a look of disappointment on his face when he saw that you were now working here, you did eventually look in his direction. It was all too easy to picture that same boy that you had hung out with daily all those years ago. The youthful exuberance didn't appear to have left him at all, but he wasn't the same guy that you had once known.

His hair was a lot shorter for starters.

Back then, he had vowed never to cut it, even though he had had a buzzcut in middle school. The long hair was part of his persona, an extension of it if you will, and he had made jokes about how all his strength was in his hair, very much like Samson. It was cut short now, but still long enough to show off his curls, with one curled over his forehead in what was either a deliberate or accidental move.

His clothing hadn’t changed much. His outfit was still predominantly black, with jeans that were so tight that it looked like they had been spray painted on. His shirt, with a faded Metallica print, was sleeveless and showed off all the new tattoos that he had gotten over the years. You briefly wondered whether there was a piece of his skin that hadn’t been inked yet.

Different, but still the same.

“You’re late!” Dustin calls out.

“Traffic was a bitch,” Eddie replies with a chuckle. “Is that you, Henderson?”

"Who else?" Dustin approaches him and is immediately swept up in a big hug. Dustin had told you that he and Eddie had kept in touch before. From the moment that he had found out that both of you knew Eddie, he hadn't shut up about him. In fact, Dustin had been the one that had told Eddie that the store hadn't been doing well. "Hey, man."

"Hey." They release each other and Eddie pats Dustin's back one more time for good measure. "Haven't seen you in a while, big man." It had looked like Eddie had wanted to say more, but you could see his nose crinkle in disgust even from this distance. "The fuck. R.E.M.? I fucking hate those guys."

You scoff loudly from behind the counter and that was when he finally noticed you. "Fuck you, Munson. Pretty Persuasion is the best song ever."

"Is not, loser," he counters like he used to do more than ten years ago as well. "Jesus,” he grins. “Talk about a blast from the past."

"Something like that," you mumble as you finally close your magazine and move it to the side.

You could hear Michael Stipe singing ‘He’s got a pretty persuasion’ through the speakers. It felt very appropriate to you.

Despite Eddie always being very vocal in his dislike of everything R.E.M., you did wonder if he even heard the lyrics and whether he finally realized that whenever you heard that song, you always thought of him. Sadly, he showed no sign of awareness as his eyes swept over the place that he used to know like the back of his hand and your shoulders immediately slumped in defeat.

Too good to be true, eh? Just like old times, you thought to yourself and tried to settle into an air of indifference, the only line of defense that you had left.

Eddie started walking around the store like he used to do back then as well, with Dustin hot on his heels instead of you on this particular occasion. He kept looking up at the walls and the various release posters that you had plastered all over it.

Some of which were old, like the one for Sonic Youth’s Daydream Nation which hung next to one for Rage Against The Machine’s Evil Empire which had been up there for about three months now.

You saw Eddie reach out and touch the Kurt Cobain poster, in a sign of respect. Some local kids had turned into some kind of shrine after Kurt had died two years ago, scribbling messages on it about how much he had meant to them. You didn’t have it in you to take it down.

Eddie and Dustin were talking in hushed tones, laughing occasionally, as they slowly made their way to the counter. Seeing Eddie up close for the first time in ages was making you nervous already.

Stop it, you think to yourself. You're being ridiculous. It's just Eddie. No big deal. Maybe he forgot all about what happened and then you can get on with your life.

"Didn't know you worked here," Eddie said when he was a couple of feet away from you.

"I own the place.” You almost sound too casual, which was a miracle seeing how you were a total mess on the inside.

"Really? Since when?"

"Since Rob died, so that's… what?” You start counting on your fingers quickly. “Eight years ago now?"

It was shortly after you graduated from college and you were still in that “What next?” stage of your life. You had merely been visiting Hawkins at the time, on a social call to visit some relatives, when you found out that Rob had died. Buying the record store had been a rather impulsive decision that you had never regretted, not until quite recently anyway.

"So you're the girl that I talked to on the phone?" He was standing on the other side of the counter now, his hands placed flat on the wooden surface, his rings immediately catching your eye. You nod in reply to his question. "You could have told me that that was you."

"Didn't think about it," you reply. You look at Dustin over Eddie's shoulder first, a big grin spread all over his face for some reason, before looking Eddie in the eye. "Why? Are you disappointed?"

"Fuck, did I say that?" He flashes you a wide grin, his dimples appearing like sunshine that was peeking through the clouds. "I know how much you love this place."

"Yeah. It seemed like the right thing to do, you know?” You thought that you were still pulling off this whole casual indifferent act, but from the way that Dustin was looking at you, who was trying very hard not to burst out laughing, you figured that you probably looked like a damn lunatic. “And I inherited some money when my grandmother died so I had the funds to do it."

“I’m sorry about that.” Eddie’s eyes soften considerably and he reaches out to give your hand a comforting squeeze.

“Don’t be. It happened a long time ago.” When you pull your hand away a bit too quickly, Eddie frowns briefly, unsure why you don’t seem to want him to touch you. Your hands are clammy and shaking so you hide them underneath the counter instead, out of his reach. “So. Here you are.”

“Here I am,” he grins, having recovered from your rejection. “And you’re in trouble. Never thought I’d be bailing you out.”

“It was usually the other way around,” you laugh.

Whenever Eddie was in trouble, and he got into trouble a lot (Hopper practically had Eddie’s number on speed dial), you’d usually provide him with an alibi, swearing up and down that you’d been with him all night and that he had never left your sight.

“So it’s high time that I repay the favor.”

“Guess so.” You look away from him, his stare too intense. “You’ll have to tell me how this is going to work though, I’m a bit fuzzy on the details.”

“Sure.” He pushes himself away from the counter, somehow sensing that you didn’t know how to act around him. “Glad that it’s you by the way.”

“Me?” It was true that you had always loved this place, it was the closest thing to a second home that you knew, but actually going as far as buying it in an effort to save it? It had been a hasty purchase driven entirely by love. You hadn't even given yourself time to think about it. It hadn't been until you were actually standing in the store all those years ago, as the owner this time, that you had taken the time to think about what the hell you had done. "I can't help but think that I shouldn't have, you know?"

"Don't say that. This old place is kinda instrumental in getting us back together now, right?" A shiver runs down your spine when Eddie says that and you know that he didn't mean it like that, but you can't stop your mind from wandering in that particular direction. "Besides, I'm here now, ain't I? Your savior."

"Fuck, Eddie," you laughed. "Still with the theatrics."

"Some things never change, babe."

"I guess not."

After a short amount of time spent catching up, you closed the store early and went out for lunch with Eddie and Dustin at a local diner. Everyone stared at Eddie from the moment that he walked in.

Several of the older patrons still looked at him like he was a devil worshiper whereas some of the people that had attended high school with him had looks on their faces that hinted at jealousy and something else, too. Belinda, a former cheerleader, even came up to him with one of the biggest plastic smiles that she could produce and told him how glad she was to see him.

As soon as she left, after realizing that Eddie wasn’t going to give her any attention, the three of you sniggered and talked about how Belinda had never even looked twice at Eddie when he was still in school.

Now that he had made it big, Eddie was suddenly a lot more interesting.

“Fuck, that was so weird,” he says when you head back to the store. It was just the two of you now, because Dustin had already made plans with Suzie. “I think that she was putting the moves on me, too.”

“You think?” You nudge his side with your fist. “She looked ready to drop down to her knees and suck you off in front of everyone.”

“Ew.” Eddie shoves your shoulder and you laugh in reply. “I don’t even want to think- that’s fucking gross, man.”

“Doesn’t that kind of thing happen to you all the time?”

“Sometimes,” he says with a shrug. “But that doesn’t mean that I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Starfuckers,” you counter as you hold open the door that leads to your apartment above the store. “All looking to become the next Mrs Munson.”

Eddie chuckles at that and you want to laugh along with him, but you could feel a sense of dread begin to form in the pit of your stomach.

You didn’t know why you thought this, but maybe he turned down Belinda Foster, former head cheerleader and current very unhappy housewife, because he had a girl waiting for him back home. It was a very distinct possibility at least.

“I wouldn’t have made fucking Belinda my wife even if I had stayed here,” he sneers when you reached the top of the stairs. “She’s the one that gave me that damn 'Freak' nickname.”

“No way,” you reply and you watch Eddie nod to confirm it. “She started that shit?”

“She did! She was a massive bitch.” Eddie tried to open the door at the top of the steps, but it wouldn’t budge. “Locked.”

“Oh shit. Wait.”

You took the remaining steps until you were standing next to him. The hallway was narrow and you were suddenly very much aware of how close Eddie was. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him as you fiddled with the lock.

“There,” you say and when you looked back up at him, you were looking straight into his warm brown eyes. “Open.”

“Hmm?” Eddie didn’t appear to have heard you, his eyes were on your lips the entire time. “What?”

“Open,” you cleared your throat and pushed the door open suddenly. “The door. It’s open.”

“Oh," he shook his head then, the spell broken. "Okay.”

With a gesture from your arm, very much copying the same kind of gestures he'd make all the time at girls back in high school, Eddie stepped into your place. You leaned against the cool wall for a moment to gather yourself before you followed him inside.

You had already been nervous, but your nerve levels had reached epic proportions now that Eddie was standing in your shitty living room with the old carpet flooring and looking at what was on your walls and what was on the shelves.

He had come to a standstill in front of a collection of picture frames and eventually plucked one from the shelf and held it up to you. “What the hell happened to these kids, huh?”

You didn’t have to look at it more closely to know exactly which picture it was.

Eddie was smiling in it, his signature grin on his lips, and you were sticking your tongue out at whoever had been taking the picture. The two of you must have been around sixteen. Both dressed entirely in black, you wearing a Joy Division shirt and him in an Iron Maiden shirt.

You were at some gig, you couldn’t remember who had been playing anymore, but you did remember how Eddie had wrapped his arms around you that night, his chin resting on your shoulder, to sing along with some cover that the band had played.

“God only knows,” you counter. “Bet they never saw any of this coming.”

That was only half true. Back then, Eddie had the same aspirations that he had since made a reality, to make it big with the band. Your dreams were a little bit more basic, but Eddie was involved in every single one of them.

God, you were such a sap.

“Cute.” Eddie had a different picture in his hand now and since you couldn’t see which one it was, you decided to join him. When you were close enough, he held it up for you to see. “I took this one, right?”

It was an old Polaroid. It was taken during another one of Hawkins’ hot summers. You were wearing a crop top and laying in the grass, a pair of Eddie’s sunglasses obscuring your eyes, your cheeks flushed from the heat with a big smile on your face.

It was probably one of the few pictures where you had a genuine smile, teeth on display and all, which was all down to the guy on the other end of the camera.

“Yeah,” you reach out to take it from him and smile at the memories that come flooding back in. “You gave it to me.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

The look in his eyes is softer than you expected it to be and there was something unreadable in there, too. You fumbled with the picture frame and would have dropped it if it hadn’t been for Eddie.

His large hands enclose yours and help you hold the frame more steadily. He opens his mouth, about to speak, when you suddenly tear your hands from his grip and put the frame back down where it belonged.

“Thanks,” you mumble quickly. “Butterfingers.”

You backed away from him slowly, saying something about needing to find the papers of the store. Eddie watches you open a drawer and pull out a couple of folders that were filled with paperwork before taking it to the dining table, which looked more like a dumping ground for various things, and going through them. You’re hunched over the table, every muscle in your body pulled taut as a bowstring from the nerves.

You never used to be this nervous around him, but then again, things had changed. It hadn’t exactly ended well, something that he still regrets and he hopes that he’ll be able to explain it at one point during his stay.

"Who's Chase by the way?"

Eddie had been curious about the guy ever since he had first spoken to you on the phone. He doesn’t miss how your shoulders stiffen at the mere mention of the name and how you release the breath that you’d been holding moments later.

"My ex husband," you reply in a deadpan voice.

"You were married?!”

"As I seem to recall, you’d gotten married, too. My marriage didn't get a mention in the gossip rags though.” It had been fairly big news at the time. Metal guitarist marries a squeaky clean actress. That wasn’t the actual headline of course, just what it had turned into in your head. They had been a very unlikely couple after all. “Mine lasted longer as well."

"Fuck you.” He laughs at his own stupidity. “It was a mistake, alright? I barely knew her. Hope that you knew your guy though."

You look over your shoulder at him. "You know him, too."

"The name doesn't ring a bell."

"Chase Wright?” you ask, but Eddie’s expression doesn’t change. “He was a center on the basketball team?"

"What?” He definitely recognizes the name now. “You married that douche?!"

"Eh," you shrug. "He was cute."

"You hated his guts," he counters with a sneer, still remembering how Chase used to treat others in school.

"People are allowed to change their minds, Eddie." You can’t keep the anger out of your voice, but the anger is mainly aimed at yourself, not at him. “People change.”

"Okay, fair enough." He held his hands up, signaling defeat. "I take it that he's not around anymore."

"Nope. Kicked him out when I caught him fucking a girl that used to work here.” You slam one folder down on the table to get some of the anger out of your system. “In our bed."

"Ouch."

"Ah well. He can go fuck himself,” you say dismissively. You didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about Chase. “Good riddance.”

“You never needed a guy anyway.”

“Huh?” You frown when Eddie says that and while you’re fairly certain that he meant it as a compliment, you’re still left confused by the remark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were always pretty independent and took shit from no one.” Eddie looks and sounds impressed as he recalls the person that you once used to be. Keywords being 'used to be'. “You were cool.”

“Things were different back then,” you say as you move onto the next folder with papers. “I wouldn’t exactly call myself cool now.”

“I would,” Eddie laughs.

“Shut up.” You laugh along with him and shake your head. “You’re way cooler. You made it, dude. Living the dream and all that bullshit.”

“Not entirely,” he says under his breath as his eyes scan the pictures again, especially the one of you sprawled out on the lawn of his uncle’s old trailer. “Got obligations now. Records to sell, gigs to play… it’s not all fun and games.”

“Yeah well, at least you don’t have to keep this place afloat.”

“I will if you find those papers.”

“Touché.”

“Why’d you really buy this place?” Eddie sees you freeze and can hear the piece of paper that you’re holding shake in your hand. “It couldn't have been doing much better before you took over.”

“Not really,” you say quietly. “I just couldn’t-” He hears you make a little triumphant noise then and sees you reach for the next piece of paper and hold it up. “Found it.”

It takes you a few seconds before you’re standing next to him again, handing him the deed that you’d just found. “This is what you need, right?”

Eddie looks at it and then back up at you again. Whatever you had been about to tell him, it was pretty obvious that he wasn’t going to get the answers that he sought right now.

“Yeah,” he eventually replies. “This is what I need.”

Maybe later.

Eddie called the guy that handled finances for him (he actually had a guy for that) and set things in motion on his end.

It should take a couple of days, but at the end of it Eddie would be the new owner of Hawkins Records and the future of the store would be secure.

Crazy when you thought about it.

It hadn’t been talked about in so many words yet, but you assumed that he would be fine with you staying on to run things and that you’d report to him every once in a while? You had no idea what Eddie wanted, but you knew for certain that he wouldn’t stay and run the store himself.

You celebrated your future joint venture with pizza, cheap beer and music. Owning a record store meant that you had plenty of albums to choose from and you swore that Eddie was like a kid in a candy store. You were more than okay with him picking the music and he had dug several gems out of your collection already.

While Motörhead’s Iron Fist is on the record player, an album that Eddie played so much that he ended up ruining the record when he was a teenager, talk turns to his love life when Sex & Outrage plays.

It was a song about groupies, which is something that Eddie thankfully does not discuss. You didn’t want to know how many girls came up to their tour bus in the hopes of getting lucky with one of the band members and you weren’t going to ask him about it either.

“You have no idea,” he says while you grab two new bottles of beer from the fridge. “It’s insane. I could barely get anyone to look twice at me in high school and now I can’t go anywhere without having girls write their phone numbers on whatever they can find and slipping them to me.” He takes a bottle of beer from your hand and pops the cap with his lighter. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” you say with a shrug. He trades his opened bottle for your closed one. “Must be tough, huh? All those models that want to fuck you all the time?”

“For the record, there’s only been one model and she was fucking exhausting.”

“I bet.” When he takes a sip from his beer, you see his nose crinkle, something that you mistake for disgust. “Sorry that it’s not the more expensive stuff, but we don’t really get imports here.”

“Honey, I like Miller. I’m not exactly a fan of that overpriced crap anyway.”

“Huh.” You took a swig of your own bottle and sat down on the lazy chair next to the couch that Eddie was sitting on. “So you’d rather spend your money on keeping a failing record store in business than treating yourself to the finer things in life?”

You reach forward to grab a packet of cigarettes and a lighter off the coffee table so you didn’t see how Eddie’s eyes focused on the collar of your tank top. You had not realized that you had flashed him a more than generous amount of cleavage.

“Like coke and hookers?”

“Call girls,” you correct him right before you lit your cigarette. “Hookers sounds too cheap.”

“And I don’t do cheap?”

“Seeing how you made it enough to buy your way out of Hawkins, why would you?” If you'd been in the same position, you'd be living it up, you knew that much at least.

“I’m still the same guy that I was back then.”

“Only with more money this time round." Corroded Coffin had come back from a very successful world tour only two months ago and there was plenty of talk of them working on a new album so it's not like they were doing badly. "And drowning in pussy, too, I reckon.”

“Pfffff. You keep bringing that up." He put his hands on the back of his head, leaned back and looked at you with raised eyebrows, like he was taking a bit too much satisfaction out of the fact that you seemed to be very much preoccupied with the state of his sex life. "Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of anyone that gets laid regularly," you elaborate. "Not like there are a lot of options round here for an alternative chick that runs a record store.”

The only guy in town who would have potentially been up for a hookup had been Steve Harrington, but a former cheerleader had managed to change Steve's womanizing ways. There was even talk of him buying her a ring to make it official, but who knew if that was actually true.

“There’s someone for everyone," Eddie declares and you're somewhat surprised that he even buys into that shit.

“I got burned one too many times," you counter. "I ain’t looking anymore.”

There’s a silence between you two after that statement. It came out sounding too harsh, too bitter, your words a little bit too scathing.

It was a barefaced lie, too, and you knew it, but the only guy that you ever truly wanted wasn’t exactly available to you. It didn’t matter that he was here right now, because he’d only leave eventually.

They all did.

“We made out once,” Eddie says quietly as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “Long time ago.”

“Jesus!” you exclaim. “I can’t believe that you remember that.” Pretending that you barely remembered was the best course of action here. You weren’t going to admit to the fact that you still thought about that night regularly and how you regretted that everything had eventually slipped away from you. “I was high as a fucking kite.”

“And drunk.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you were taking advantage of me?”

“You think I needed to?" Seeing how the two of you went way back, it wasn't that hard for Eddie to see straight through your lies. "Fuck, you were throwing yourself at me before you’d even drank one beer.”

“I was not,” you say indignantly. “Besides, I seem to recall that you kept trying to look down my shirt that evening.”

“Was not!“

“You’re such a bad liar, Munson. Always have been.” You lean forward and try to kick his shin, but he pulls away just in time. “My tits were the first thing that you went for when we started making out.”

“Can you blame me?” He gestures at your rack. “Your tits were fucking amazing.”

“Still are,” you say under your breath, thinking that he hadn’t heard you and completely missing how his eyes drift down as soon as you had said it. “You were groping them as if you had no idea what to do with them.”

“Yeah, well, it was my first time feeling someone up, alright?" He flexes his fingers then, as if he was trying to remember exactly how they felt in his hands and you're briefly mesmerized by the seemingly simple gesture. "And I’d been obsessed with your rack for ages.”

“Really?”

“Fuck yeah, couldn’t get them out of my head.”

That one hookup had never really gone anywhere, though.

You had been teenagers, horny teenagers.

There had been tension between you for ages, that’s what you had thought anyway, and Eddie had been ogling you so blatantly that night, too. His eyes were drifting down whenever he thought that you hadn’t been looking and shooting up to your face whenever he thought that you noticed.

In the end, you had made the first move after a couple of beers and one shared joint. The kiss had been impulsive and while it had taken Eddie’s brain a couple of seconds to catch up to what was happening, he had matched your fervor when he kissed you back and pulled you into his lap.

It was just one night of kissing, groping and grinding on each other. A few hours full of breathless giggles, foreheads pressed together, shared breaths, you gasping into his mouth when he pulled you harder against him, his pupils dilated so far that you could barely see the brown of his irises anymore.

How it hadn’t ended with you in his bed was anybody’s guess, but it hadn’t. You vaguely remember the promises of wanting to do it right, wining and dining you properly, instead of fucking you in the back of his van.

Sadly, it had never gotten the chance to evolve into something more.

When the two of you had seen each other again on Monday, it was like nothing had happened at all.

Eddie had blushed furiously at first, but he had recollected himself fairly quickly, slammed his hand in between your shoulder blades and asked you if you had finished your homework, something that he had never taken much interest in before.

“You acted like it had never happened.”

“I was nervous, alright?” he admits. “I spent most of that Sunday jerking off whilst thinking of you on top of me so I kinda freaked out when I saw you again.”

“I tried to kiss you again the next weekend and you turned your head away.”

It was something that you had never forgotten. Despite the fact that he had acted off with you all week, you had still tried to repeat it the following weekend.

Eddie had not let you however. He turned his head away when you leaned in, your lips connecting with his cheek instead, and then he had excused himself.

It was the lowest that you had ever felt in your entire life. After sitting in stunned silence for a short while, you had headed back home and cried yourself to sleep that same night, because you’d been crushing on Eddie hard for ages and then he just… rejected you.

The Saturday night before you had been soaring high above the clouds and the Saturday night after, you crash landed back to Earth.

“I’m sorry, alright, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”

“I’ll say! We barely talked for the rest of the year!” you exclaim, still hurting over something that had happened a lifetime ago. “And then I graduated, went to college and we never spoke again. By the time I came back, you were long gone.”

“And I still regret that every single fucking day!”

That little outburst silences you for a bit. You got the sense that Eddie was as bothered by his own conduct as much as you had been back then. The way that he had responded to it, something that you had perceived as embarrassment that he had even let it happen at all, had ended a friendship of several years after all.

“Dude, why didn’t you ever just tell me?”

This entire conversation was draining you. When he had called you out of the blue two weeks ago to make his offer, you had wondered what he would do when he would find out that you were the one that ran the store now. You had never once counted on the fact that the two of you would have this long overdue conversation.

Part of you hoped that he had forgotten about it entirely, but it appeared to weigh as heavy on his mind as it did on yours.

“Instead you just tried to carry on as usual at first while I had to overhear stories of you hooking up with drunk chicks that came to watch you guys play at The Hideout. I fucking hated you by the end of the school year.”

Things had been tense between you after he had rejected you. Eddie had made an attempt to remain friends by pretending that he hadn’t utterly humiliated you, completely ignoring the fact that he might have needed to apologize. All the while you kept withdrawing from him.

Offers to come hang out or whatever else Eddie thought up were all met with excuses from your end, even using the famous “I need to wash my hair that night” line.

Eventually, he got the picture and left you alone completely.

“I know,” he sighs.

“You broke my heart, Eddie.”

“I know.”

“Is that all you’re gonna say?” You groan loudly and wipe a hand down your face in frustration. “Fuck, you never should have brought that night up to begin with. Would have been better if it had just remained in the past where it belongs.”

Getting up from the couch, you walked over to the small kitchen area and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the counter. You opened it and took a drink straight from the bottle, not bothering to put it in a glass. The liquid burned as it went down your throat, momentarily taking your mind off things.

“That was my first kiss, you know.” You couldn’t resist, even if the hurt was clearly audible in your voice, you still wanted him to be aware of what he had done to you. “And you basically fucking ruined it.”

“I never meant to-“

“Well, you did. I felt like shit, Eddie. You were my best friend and then I lost you because of something stupid like that.” You took another gulp from the bottle, one so large that you gasped for breath afterwards. “I think that you should leave. Go ask Dustin if you can crash in his spare bedroom or something and then we can forget that this ever happened.”

“You want me to leave?”

“Yes! Just go back to whatever fucking mansion you live in right now. Sell your records, fuck your groupies… whatever.”

“You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

“At least you got out of this shithole of a town,” you bit back. “I’m stuck here with all the fucking memories.”

“What memories?” His voice sounded a lot closer now and when you turned your head, you noticed that he was standing a few feet away from you. He closed the distance and leaned against the counter next to you. “Hey. What memories?” he repeated again.

“This place,” you said as you gestured around you, but really meaning the store down below. “And this dumb fucking town with its dumb fucking people that I can’t shake no matter where the hell I go. I got into Columbia for god’s sake! And look at me now! Running a record store in a town that I hate.”

“So it’s nothing but bad memories then?”

“No,” you replied quietly. “Not all bad.”

“So which ones are the good ones?” He slid in a little closer until his arm made contact with yours. “Wanna tell me?”

“No.”

Because he knew. The bastard fucking knew. He knew that all the good memories involved him. He just wanted to hear you say it out loud for once, for you to stop chickening out for once in your life and to tell him how you really felt.

"Why not?"

"Because."

Too embarrassing to admit to for starters, because how are you even supposed to voice something that you've only ever said in your head? Where would you even start?

"That's not an answer."

"It's all you're getting." You try to move away from him, the need to put distance between the two of you was overwhelming because you couldn't trust yourself around him. "It's late."

"Is it? It’s not even eleven yet." He called you out on your bullshit immediately. His fingers wrap around your wrist and he pulls you back against him. "What are you so scared of, huh?"

"Eddie."

"Come on, just answer the question."

"Don't make me," you say softly. He turned you around until your ass was pressed up against the kitchen drawers. Then he placed his hands on either side of you on the counter, effectively caging you in. His big brown eyes were practically burning a hole through you. "Please don’t make me answer.”

“I’m just curious, is all.”

“Why?”

“Come on.” His smile is warm and inviting, the same one that you remembered, and it was starting to sway you. “We’re old friends, aren’t we?”

“Yeah. I guess,” you shrug halfheartedly.

“You think that I’ll make fun of you or something?”

“I wish you would.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because maybe then I could forget you,” you blurt out. He looks at you curiously, head tilted to the side as he takes you in. His expressive eyes, which usually gave you so much, are unreadable now. Or maybe you just ignored everything that was swirling around in there, still convinced that nothing would come out of this. “If I ever packed up and left, it would be like closing the door completely. And I don’t want to. I can’t.”

“So it’s my fault that you never left?”

“Yes. Because despite everything, I kept hoping that you’d come back one day and seriously, why would you? Everybody hated you.” Almost everyone in town thought that he was some cult leader when all that the Hellfire Club did was offer a safe space for all the rejects. That combined with the fact that Eddie was always so unapologetically himself was a recipe for disaster in a town like Hawkins. “Why would you want to come back to a town that treated you like shit most of the time?”

“Honey, if I had known that you were here, I would have.”

“You mean it?” He nodded in reply. “Don’t lie to me, Eddie.” It sounded too hard to believe, like something made up just because he wanted to get laid, because that was where this was going, wasn’t it? You could feel the electricity crackle in the air between you from the moment that he set foot inside your apartment. “You really mean it?”

“Yes,” he replies and he looked honest enough, his big brown eyes seemed to hold nothing but the truth in them. He still couldn’t lie for shit. Not to you. “I never stopped carrying a torch for you. Kept hoping that you’d come to a gig one night so we could catch up, pick up where we left off, but you never did.”

“I was scared.” Your voice breaks at the last word and you can feel tears begin to well up in your eyes. “I couldn’t-“

“Shhh,” he put his index finger on your lips to silence you. “You’re here now.”

“That’s ‘cause I live here,” you chuckle weakly. “Can’t leave.”

“Lucky me.”

Eddie’s lips ensured that you wouldn’t be able to reply this time. The kiss was desperate and hungry. Your teeth clashed as you came together, but neither of you cared about the clumsiness of it.

This was something that both of you had been looking to repeat for many years now.

Twelve years to be precise.

And while both of you had matured during the years that you had been apart, you were also still very much the same in a way, as if you’d merely been playing at being grownups for all this time. As if time had somehow stopped ever since you parted, only to start again now that you were together again.

“Eddie,” you moan against his lips when he pushes you up against the counter so hard that he was in danger of hurting you. You'd definitely have some bruises to show for this in the morning, as proof that it really happened. “Is this- are we really doing this?”

“I’ve been thinking of nothing else for years, baby.” His hands cup your face desperately, tilting it further back so he can run his teeth down the column of your throat. As soon as they make contact with your skin, you start to make noises as if you are in heat. “Jesus. Keep doing that.”

“I will if you will,” you breathe back.

“Deal.”

His hands grab your waist and he lifts you up onto the counter. You instantly wrap your thighs around his hips and Eddie starts rutting into you a split second later. Every time his pelvis connects with yours, you could feel him growing harder. Whenever his cock presses into the apex of your thighs, you mewl and your eyes practically roll back into your skull every single time.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you dig your nails in his shoulderblades, no doubt leaving little crescent shaped imprints in his skin. “Want you so bad.” His hands slid under the hemline of your tank top, grabbing two handfuls of your tits within seconds. “I need you.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He pulls on the fabric that was covering your torso, almost tearing it in his eagerness to get it off. “Fuck, baby,” he growls when he got an eyeful of your chest. “You were right. They’re still fucking amazing.”

“You heard me?!”

“What do you think?” He buries his face between them and looks up at you. “Most perfect tits I’ve ever seen.” His tongue slides along the scalloped edge of the lace cups. “And you’re not bad either.”

“Shut up,” you lightly smack the back of his head. “You can always leave if you want to.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie pulls the cups of your bra down, finally uncovering your tits. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years. I’m not gonna leave now.”

He finally stops talking, finally, and puts his mouth to good use. His lips latch on to one of your nipples and you throw your head back so far that the back of your head slams into the cabinets above the counter.

You swear loudly and Eddie pauses for a second, to look up at you and see if you were alright.

“Fine!” you all but shout. “I’m okay. Keep going.”

“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want.”

Eddie dives straight back in, lavishing your tits in so much attention that you start grinding your hips against his, practically begging for sweet release.

“Goddammit,” he husks against the shell of your ear after his tongue had licked a stripe all the way up to your neck. “Your tits are perfect, sweetheart. Can’t get enough of ‘em.“

“Oh yeah?“

“Yeah.” He moves down again, licking at the pebbled skin around your painfully hard nub. “I want to paint them with my cum.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Not yet, baby.”

Eddie pulls you against him, off the counter. As soon as your feet touch the ground, you kick your flip flops off and he turns you around so he can press his pelvis against the curve of your ass. You press back when you feel his bulge grinding into you.

“Don’t want to come too fast,” he whispers in your ear as his hands start undoing your jeans. “Want to take my time.” He yanks your jean shorts and underwear down roughly, pulls them over your feet and discards them next to him. “But you’ll get my cum eventually, don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t. Not worried at all-!” The last word turns into a high pitched yelp when his hand connects with your bare ass. “Jesus, Eddie.”

“Fuckin’ love it when you say my name like that, sweetheart.” He slides his hand between your legs and hums appreciatively when he finds out how wet you are. “You’re so wet.”

“Used to get like that all the time around you,” you admit, moaning loudly when his fingers brush against your clit. “You were a fucking idiot for never noticing it before. Was always worried you’d smell me or somethin’.”

“That bad?”

“Couldn’t go near you without soaking through my panties.” Eddie groans straight into your ear and it sends a flood of warmth straight down to your core. “All the fucking time, Eddie. I had it bad. Real bad.”

“Fuck, I-“ His fingers freeze suddenly and you whine while bucking your hips against his hand in an effort to get him to move again. “I wanna make it up to you.”

“H-How?”

“You’ll see.” He takes a step back and leans against the drawers next to you, leaning back far enough so he can see your face. “Think that you’ll like it.”

You watch him, wide eyed, as he lowers himself and sits on the floor, his back resting against the cabinets behind him. He grins widely, as was usual for him, takes your hand and pulls you to the side. You step over his legs until you’re standing astride him and he looks up at you, his grin bordering on feral now that your pussy is at eye level.

“This how you want me?” You run your hands through his short hair lovingly and he leans into your touch for a moment.

“This is exactly how I want you.” His eyes never once left your cunt and he blows hot air on it, the fucking tease, just to see you squirm. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

His hands grab the back of your thighs, right underneath your ass, and bring you in closer. He presses his lips to your mound, lingering there as he looks up at you. You nod once, giving him permission, not sure if he was even asking for it but giving it all the same.

Eddie hooks your right leg over his shoulder and spreads you open even further. You just know that your foot is going to hurt from the way that it’s wedged between the wooden doors and Eddie’s back, but you could care less.

You had been waiting for this moment for so long that you could deal with some slight discomfort afterwards.

When his tongue finally makes contact with your clit, you swear that you just died and went to heaven. The contact is minimal, a light swirl with the tip of his tongue, but it’s enough to make you shudder and make your lungs constrict.

You moan his name when his tongue dips in deeper, sliding between your folds, pressing against your entrance and it’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut so hard that you're seeing stars.

“Stay with me,” he breathes against your sopping folds, the warm air tickling you and making your hips jerk. “Stay with me, princess.”

“Feels so good, Eddie,” you choke out. “I’m not going to last.”

“You’ll have to,” he whispers against you, “Because I’m not gonna stop.”

His tongue works against you like he’s a virtuoso, as if he’d been practicing for this single moment his entire life, hitting you in all the right places with every swipe of his tongue. He played the guitar with the same dexterity, knowing full well that he was good with the instrument, one of the best in fact, and he plays you with the same level of confidence.

A pathetic whine bursts from your lips as he subjects you to this sweet torture, as if you were simply another one of his guitars, adding you to his already extensive repertoire.

You press your hands against the laminate counter hard, your torso bending forward and resting on your forearms, head hanging down as Eddie pulls the most inhuman sounds from your lungs.

The smug bastard smiles against you, enjoying seeing and feeling you come undone by his tongue alone, and then he moans, actually fucking moans, when he pushes his tongue as deep into your pussy as it could go.

It proves to be too much for you. Your entire body tensed up, all your muscles pulled taut, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as your climax crests and peaks. It’s so intense it almost tears a hole right through you.

Only Eddie doesn’t stop.

Still caught in the aftershocks of your orgasm, breathing so hard that it feels like your lungs are on fire, your hips buck when you feel something probing your entrance.

You sob loudly, tears already pricking your eyes, as Eddie slides two digits into you - slowly, slowly - until they can go no further. He pulls them out completely and then slips them back in.

“P-please,” you cry out. “I c-can’t take any more.”

“You say that,” his voice sounds leisurely and relaxed, his breathing warm on your overworked cunt. “But your body keeps pulling me back in.” You groan in discomfort, but your body betrays you, your hips twitching and moving back and forth in time with his motions. “See? You want more.”

“Eddie-“

“You can do this,” his free hand connects your ass roughly and he laughs when you let out a loud yelp. “One more time. Indulge me.”

“Oh god.” Your voice wavers when he curls his fingers inside you, hitting your sweet spot and making a sudden jolt course through your body. “I really ca-“ Your voice goes up in pitch when his tongue touches your clit again. “D-don’t… s-st-stop…”

Those two words are enough to make him speed up. His fingers thrust up into you harder and faster and his lips practically attach themselves to your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves and flicking at it with his tongue.

Your second climax is a scorcher and you come whilst screaming his name. Your body convulses, wanting to fold in on itself, and you claw at whatever you can simply to keep yourself standing upright when you feel your knee buckle underneath you.

Eddie unhooks your right leg from his shoulder and you can feel the muscles in it scream from soreness. You can feel a trickle of fluid flow down your thigh as his hands settle on your hips and he pulls you down onto his lap.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you lean into his chest and Eddie’s hands rub up and down your back gently as you come down from your high.

“You okay?” he finally asks when your breathing has normalized. He listens to you take in a shaky breath before you even say anything and he worries that he may have pushed you too far. “Talk to me.”

“It’s so unfair,” you mumble into his chest.

“Unfair?” Surprise is clearly audible in his voice, but you’re unwilling to move from your very comfortable current position. “What’s unfair?”

“I’m practically naked and you’re still fully dressed.” It makes him burst into laughter and even when he stops, his belly still shakes when he tries to contain himself. “Not funny,” you pout, even though you’re amused yourself.

Sitting back on his thighs, you pull on the collar of his shirt. Eddie hooks a finger underneath the strap of your bra, the only item of clothing that you’re still wearing even if it’s all askew, pulls it back until it snaps against your skin.

“You’re still wearing this.”

“Oh yeah, ‘cause it covers up so much.” You roll your eyes, reach around the back to unhook your bra and take it off. “Doesn’t change anything about the fact that you’re not naked.”

“Hmm.” He leans forward a little, his lips ghosting over yours as he grabs the hemline of his shirt, pulls it over his head and tosses it as far as he can. “This better?”

“A little,” you pout, trying to sound disappointed, but who could ever be disappointed when looking at Eddie’s inked chest? It was an amazing sight after all. “You got a lot more since I last saw you.”

“I was eighteen when you last saw me.” Your finger traces the demon head on his chest that you recognize, which has faded a bit over time. “Remember that one?”

“I was with you when you got it, so yeah, I do.” You bring both hands up to his chest, tracing all the new designs that he’s gotten since then, more intricate and colorful. “Do you even have any skin left for more?”

“Well, I have a couple of places…” He trails off, his cheeks coloring and a hand rubbing the back of his neck. “But the most important one is still empty.”

“Oh?” Your eyes go over the parts of his skin that you can see, but there’s barely any space left. “Where?”

Eddie takes your right hand, brings it up to his chest and places it right over where his heart is. “Right there.”

You move your hand away and sure enough, there’s an empty spot that you missed. It’s just about big enough for a name.

“That’s an important one indeed,” you muse as your fingers move back and forth over it. “Any thoughts on what you want there?”

The question was rhetoric, because it was painstakingly obvious what he had reserved that empty spot for.

“A name,” he replies. “Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” you grin. “You never know.”

Even though he had been married and had probably been with loads of women, it was still empty. So maybe that meant-

You shook your head. No way. There’s just no way.

“What’s up?” His voice is so low that it makes you shiver involuntarily.

He obviously wants to know what you’re thinking, but this is something that you can’t voice out loud, not yet, so you need to find a way to distract him somehow.

The easiest way to do that was to…

“Fuck,” Eddie groans when you grind your hips against his. You do it slowly, getting the maximum amount of friction out of it, and your breathing hitches when you angle your hips just right. “Distracting me?”

He knows what you’re doing, of course he does, but the way that he’s smiling tells you that he doesn’t mind.

“Wanna suck your dick, Ed,” you tell him. “Need to wrap my lips around it.” He swears under his breath and you look at him through your lashes, biting your bottom lip teasingly. “You gonna let me? You gonna put it in my mouth and fuck my face?”

“Jesus Christ,” he hisses. “You can't just- fuck. Can’t believe you just fucking said that.”

“Eddie,” you moan, really going in for the kill now. “I want to take all of it. Every. Inch.” You enunciate the last words clearly, emphasizing every syllable, your smile growing when you see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I want you to make me choke on it. You wanna see the tears stream down my face, don't you? From barely being able to fit all of you into my mouth?”

He grabs the back of your neck, pulls you close and slams his lips down on yours. He kisses you so hard that you forget to breathe and when he pulls away, he’s breathing just as hard as you are.

“When did you get so fucking filthy?”

“You don’t know half of it,” you wink. “What about it then? You want to see me on my knees with your cock in my mouth?”

Twisting your head to the side, you can feel his lips brush against the shell of your ear as he says, “You’re such a dirty little slut.”

His words send a fresh flood of warmth down to your cunt and all that you can reply is, “Uh-huh.”

“On your knees.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You’re off his lap in a flash and on your knees, ready and waiting for him. Eddie gets to his feet and his hands settle on his belt, but you brush them away quickly.

“Allow me.”

There was an overwhelming need to work fast, to unbuckle his belt quickly, yank his trousers down to his knees and stick his cock in your mouth, but it was way more fun to tease him.

Just a little.

Taking his shoes off is what you start with. You quite possibly draw it out a little bit too much, grasping the metal slider of the zippers, pulling them down tooth by tooth, holding onto his black boots as he steps out of them and then putting them side by side next to you.

Starting at his ankles, your hands skim up his jeans slowly, on the outside of his legs until you reach the top. You could have repeated that a couple of times, but decided not to.

That was more down to your own impatience rather than the temptation of pushing the boundaries, because there was nothing but amusement in Eddie’s eyes over your ability to even drag it out this long.

You undo his belt, taking care not to make your fingers brush over his crotch, where he was quite obviously straining away against the fabric in a way that was already making your mouth water. You were so ridiculously careful when you opened his zip too, fingers barely touching, your hands shaking like you were unwrapping the best present that anyone had ever given you.

Which is what he kinda was in a way.

His hand touches the top of your head, so tender that it makes you want to fucking cry, like you’re that same dumb teenager again that just wanted him to notice you and wanted him to pick you so desperately that you were blind to the fact that you’d had him all along.

You can’t even look up, too afraid to see the look in his eyes right now, so you grab at the fabric just above his knees and drag it down his legs. And you can’t even look at his boxer briefs, only catching a flash of the black item of clothing from the corner of your eye, but not focusing on it.

Not yet.

There ought to be something that you should be saying, but your tongue feels thick and your mouth dry as you keep pulling his jeans down, exposing his legs inch by inch until you pull it down his feet and leave it lying there.

When you finally hazard a glance up, Eddie’s expression is gentle, whatever bravado he always put on display was sorely lacking now. His eyes are unbearably soft instead, simply looking at the girl that he once knew, sitting on her knees in front of him and who seemed morbidly afraid to make a move.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “It’s just me.”

As if he had to remind you of that.

But it was also exactly what you needed to hear right now and you lean forward, pressing your lips on his thigh softly, lingering there for a moment, before your hands move up to pull his boxers down.

When his cock finally pops free, proudly standing at attention, hard as a fucking rock, you almost gasp. Almost. You manage to restrain yourself, but he can see it written all over your face. The surprise and yes, the hunger, is all there in your pupils and in the little smile that materializes on your lips.

“Holy shit, Ed,” you whisper, impressed. “I’m definitely going to choke on that.”

“I’m counting on it,” he moans when you wrap your fingers around the base. You move your hand up once, just to feel the velvety shaft against your palm. “You just gonna keep looking at it?”

“Maybe,” you counter with a grin. You lick a stripe up his cock and he hisses through his teeth the second that your tongue makes contact with him. “Will that do?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he looks down at you, head tilted to the side as if to say ‘are you serious?’ without saying anything at all. You try not to laugh and ask, “No?”

There’s a bead of precum glistening on the tip and you squeeze the base as you lean in closer. Your tongue darts out from between your lips to lick it away. The amount of contact he got out of this was minimal, so his hips press forward, chasing your mouth as you pull back.

“So impatient,” you chide. “That’s your problem. No self control.”

“You started drooling the second you pulled my pants down,” he answers. Unsurprisingly, he has called you out on your bullshit yet again. “Don’t deny it.”

“I’m not,” you reply as your fist gives a lazy stroke upwards. “Pretty damn hard not to considering what you’ve got packed away in your pants.”

With your hand still on his shaft, you keep moving it up and down slowly while also angling his cock out of the way. Eddie notices and was getting ready to ask what you were doing, his mouth already open, when you suddenly move in closer to take one of his balls in your mouth instead.

A low guttural moan bursts from his lips as your tongue moves in circles around the sac and your hand tugs on his cock at the same speed. When he swears under his breath, you start humming contentedly and he reaches down to grasp the back of your head, his fingers spread out, his thumb rubbing circles right behind your ear.

You move on to his other testicle, wanting to give the same amount of attention to both. His digits keep flexing, his fingernails scratching your scalp lightly, a gentle reminder that he could shove you down onto his length whenever he pleases and was merely holding himself back. You pull your head away slowly, tugging gently on his sac with your lips until you release him suddenly.

“Fuck,” he husks out, his voice low and hoarse. “That was insane.”

“You liked that, baby?”

“Thought it was obvious.” He runs a hand through his short hair. The errant curly lock of hair gets brushed back but it pops straight back out again a split second later.

“It was,” you grin. “But I still want to hear you say it.”

“Yes.” His voice is too level, too composed, so you lick up the line between his balls just to feel his cock twitch in your grip and he chokes out the next words. “Ye-yes, I did.”

“Good.”

Your eyes focus on his cock again, especially on the ruddy head this time. You lick your lips and you can’t stop yourself from smiling this time when Eddie whines above you. Your lips make contact with the tip so softly that he barely must have felt it at all, so you do it again, making sure that he feels your kiss this time.

“Still okay?” Your eyes are impossibly wide as you look up at him and Eddie’s pupils are so large that there’s barely any brown of his irises left. “Hm?”

“Great,” he chokes out and his voice goes up in pitch when you kiss his dick again, just below the tip. “Keep doing that.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

How long you even manage to keep this up, you don’t know, but you don’t think that there’s a part of Eddie’s cock that you neglected. You’ve kissed your way up and down his shaft at least twice, sometimes using your tongue as well, and since Eddie never once asks or begs you to take him into your mouth already, you don’t.

It ends up being a natural transition.

You let your tongue circle his tip and Eddie can’t help himself as his hips press forward so you suck it into your mouth, just a couple of inches, nothing more before releasing him with a wet pop.

Eddie laughs breathlessly and swears under his breath. You can see that the fingers of one of his hands have curled around the counter. He’s gripping it so hard that his knuckles have turned white.

“Poor boy,” you say to get his attention, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Want me to put you out of your misery?”

Despite swearing once or twice throughout his ‘ordeal’, Eddie had been unusually silent. He blinks, focuses on you, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows. “Please,” is all that he manages to reply.

You manage to flash him one wicked grin before licking your palm and wrapping your fingers around his shaft once more. Then, without warning, you take him into your mouth and start sucking eagerly.

That seems to make Eddie’s tongue work again.

“Oh fuck,” he groans. “Fuck. Your fucking mouth. Jesus.” His vocabulary is limited and you can’t help but smile around him. “Don’t-don’t you fucking laugh at me.”

If your mouth hadn’t been full, you would have given him a smart ass reply, and the thought to do just that crosses your mind, but you ultimately decide against it. You had tortured the poor guy enough as it was, drawing it out any longer might unleash the beast.

A tempting thought indeed, but maybe later. Tomorrow morning perhaps?

Retaliation soon follows however. Eddie pushes his hips forward, forcing his length further into your mouth, and when he hits the back of your throat, you gag around him.

“Yeah, fuck yeah.” He sounds so desperate that you can feel a fresh flood of warmth pulsing from your cunt. “You promised, sweetheart,” he grunts out. “You fucking promised.”

And he was right. You did.

You explicitly told him that you wanted to choke on his dick, that you wanted him to make you cry and that he could fuck your face.

So far, you hadn’t exactly held up to your side of the bargain. But you would. You fucking would. You’d do anything for the guy and what was a little bit of momentary discomfort if it got him off? He could use you as a sex toy for all you cared, you would be anything that he needed.

When you released him, he let out a long groan of disappointment, convinced that you were teasing yet again and just when he thought that you were done doing that, too. It disappears just as quickly when he sees you spread your thighs a little bit wider, hands settled on your knees, in an attempt to get a bit more comfortable.

“You’re right,” you purr at him. “I did promise.”

Eddie swears that he must have ascended to a higher plain when you open your mouth and stick out your tongue, presenting yourself to him, waiting for him.

He’s seen it before of course, similar poses from faceless girls who’d come to him after gigs, crooning in his ear about how amazing he was. Their hands everywhere on the way back to the tour bus, hotel, alleyway, wherever, but they’d all end up on their knees, whining shit about how badly they wanted him and his cum.

It all hits a little bit different when it’s a girl that he’s wanted ever since he hit puberty. The girl that he watched get more beautiful with every passing day until he finally realized that, fuck, he was in love with you, making his peace with how it could never possibly be reciprocated, ignoring all the times that you’d bat your lashes at him, because no way, there was just no fucking way.

No. Never.

And then fucking panicking when it finally happened like a goddamn loser.

Thank fuck for this day.

“You’re serious?” He almost chokes on the words and it definitely doesn’t help when you nod, batting your lashes and looking at him as if he’s the only guy on the planet. “Fuck, sweetheart.”

It barely registers with him that his hand reaches down on instinct, knowing what to do now that his brain is close to short circuiting, moving on autopilot, settling on the back of your head. You whine the second that his fingers make contact, actually fucking whine, and he’s not sure if he can handle this for much longer.

“Keep sitting there, okay.” Despite the fact that you’d already made it clear that you would do just that, he still feels the need to tell you. “Tap my leg if it gets uncomfortable.” One of your hands releases your knee and grips his calf. “Good girl.”

He taps the tip of his cock against your tongue one, two, three times, before he slides inside. It’s purely exploratory at first, just to check if you’d stay in your position, to see if you won’t pull away at the first sign of discomfort when he hits the back of your throat.

Your eyes well up when he keeps his cock there, pressed as deeply inside that warm, wet cavern of your mouth as was possible for a few seconds and when he finally pulls out, you gasp.

“Good girl,” he repeats. “Good fucking girl.” He doesn’t give you much time to recover before he pushes back in. “Relax for me.”

Breathing in deeply through your nose, you relax your throat and he drives himself in deeper than before. When you blink, you can feel the tears start to leak out and slide down your cheeks.

Just as you promised.

“Fuck.” All his feelings of attempting to take it slow for your sake are replaced by this deep animalistic need to climax. He grabs your face, fingers digging into the flesh of your cheeks as he starts fucking your face in earnest. “Fuck. S-sorry, but- Fuck.”

The sounds that you make, your moans coming out all garbled from having your mouth full, only spur him on. Saliva pools in your mouth, covering his shaft and easing his passage. Every time that he thrusts in, it drips out of the corners of your mouth. Drool soaks your chin, running down the column of your throat which is currently being used for all it’s worth.

You feel his cock jump suddenly and then the first spurt of cum hits the back of your tongue. You swallow it all down obediently, his little words of praise mixed in with his moans working for you in ways that you never thought possible.

There’s almost a sense of disappointment when his hands release you and your mouth feels incredibly empty when he pulls his softening cock out. You rub your jaw, feeling as if you might have dislocated it just to fit all of him inside.

“I think that you sucked my soul out through my dick,” he pants as he sinks down onto the floor. “Shit.”

“My-“ You start talking, but your voice has been reduced to nothing more than a hoarse squeak. The second you hear it, you laugh breathlessly. “My throat is sore.”

“You don’t say,” Eddie replies and then you both laugh. You’re not able to keep it up for long, your throat still sore as it was, and he leans forward to put his finger on your lips. “Wait.”

Pushing his legs under himself, still wobbly, he turns to the counter and grabs the almost entirely forgotten bottle of whisky and hands it to you. You take a sip, coughing when you swallow, but feeling it soothes you a little as well.

“Better?” You nod and hand the bottle back to him. He takes a swig from it as well and sloshes the remaining liquid from side to side. There isn't a lot left so he holds up the bottle and asks, “Finish it with me?”

“Sure.” You settle down on the floor next to him, the vinyl underneath you a little stickier on your bare skin than you would like it to be. You nudge your shoulder into his and say, “You just asked me that because you can’t get up, huh?”

“Shut up.” He pushes back with a laugh. “Maybe if you didn’t give such killer head-“

“You wanted me to do worse?” You take the bottle from his hands and take another swig. “Because, you know, I could try to do badly next time and give you the sloppiest blowjob ever.”

“You’ll fucking kill me if you do that again.” Eddie puts his arm around you and pulls you closer against him. When you start to laugh, he says, “I mean it.”

“Oh, come on. No other girl has given you a good blowjob before?” You hazard a glance in his direction, but his gaze is so intense that you look away after a few seconds. “I don’t believe that for one second.”

“Maybe it’s more down to the girl doing it,” he shrugs. “Yeah. That’s probably it.”

“Big softie,” you reply with a chuckle. “Mister Big Rockstar has a heart after all.”

“Haven’t had possession of it for years,” he counters. “You stole it from me when I was a teenager after all.”

The giggle that escapes your lips makes you clamp a hand over your mouth. It was a full-on teenager with a crush type of laugh, giggling unnecessarily loud over something that the object of her affections had just said and it embarrassed the ever loving crap out of you.

You clear your throat, which is feeling a lot better now, and when you look at him, Eddie’s lips are pressed into a thin line as he tries to not burst out laughing over having elicited such a response from you.

“You want it back?” You sound a little bit angrier than you had intended and that does make him snort. “Fuck’s sake,” you huff without any real conviction. “Why can’t I ever be normal around you?”

“Because I like you this way,” he counters with a chuckle. Eddie turns his head, kisses your temple and then whispers in your ear, “And keep it. It’s always been yours anyway.”

“Lord,” you groan. “That’s so- fuck.”

You want to say that it’s awful or sentimental, cliché even, but you can’t help the way that your heart soars upon hearing his words. It literally feels like your heart has exited your body and is flying up over your head in little circles.

Your stomach is suddenly filled with millions of tiny little butterflies and they’re doing loop-the-loops inside you, running amok through your insides and threatening to burst out like less scary versions of alien chestbursters.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says with that infuriating grin. “I’m supposed to play it cool, right? Take it slow for a while first before ultimately dragging you on stage during a show and declaring my undying love for you as I reveal to a stunned crowd that you inspired dozens of songs?”

“No,” you snort. “That kind of shit is not for me.” But he would know that, hence why he even said it in the first place. “I don’t want grand, sweeping gestures. I just want you.”

“You’re such a sap.”

“Just like you apparently.” You squeal when he pinches your side. “Hey. Stop that.”

“Nope,” he replies as he does it again. “I’m never gonna stop doing that.”

“Guess I just have to-“ You pull away and lean forward, scrambling away from him on your hands and knees. Eddie manages to give you one well aimed smack on your ass before you get to your feet. “Not nice,” you say to him as you rub a hand over where he hit you, on the apple of your ass cheek.

“Thought you liked me that way.” Eddie leans his head back against the cabinet, his eyes sweeping over the naked expanse of your body first. He catches the tilt of your head, your eyes questioning. “What’s up?”

“…Did I?” Your sentence is half formed, the rest of it in your mind ever since a particular something had been said earlier, and his confused look makes you realize that you hadn’t exactly been clear. “I mean, did I inspire some songs?”

“Now that would be telling,” is his ambiguous answer.

“You’re a damn tease,” you tell him. “Anyway, I’m going to bed. You joining me?”

“I might,” he counters infuriatingly.

“Suit yourself.” You sway your hips exaggeratedly as you walk away and call over your shoulder at him, “You decide what you want to do, sleep on the cold floor alone or fall asleep while holding my warm body.”

When you reach the bedroom, you sit down on the edge of the bed, thighs open and pointed at the door and counting on your fingers. You manage to count to eight when Eddie finally appears. He stands in the doorway for a moment, leaning against the frame and taking you in.

His tongue moistens his lips and then he steps forward to take his place next to you in the bed. Your eyes fall on his half hard cock and you catch his smirk right before he starts kissing your neck.

There’s something on your mind that you need to address first however.

"Hey, can I ask you something first?" Eddie pulls back, your change in tone catching him off guard. "D-don't worry. Nothing bad or anything. I was just wondering."

"Think I know," he replies with a sigh. "You want to know why I never let it go any further back in high school."

"Yeah," you reply. "I never got it and you never talked to me about it either. I always thought that it was…” It was remarkable how all your teenage insecurities from back then just came flooding back and you can’t even look at him when you finish your sentence, “Thought that you didn't like me as much as I hoped… or that I wasn’t good enough… for you."

"Ah, Jesus." You feel his hand on your cheek, his fingers brushing up and down, but he doesn’t make you look at him. "No, that wasn't it at all."

"Then what?” You really wanted to know, you deserved to know. “I spent years agonizing over this."

"You probably don't even remember," he starts to say as he reaches out to take your hand in his and lace his fingers through yours. "We got the grades for some test back that week and I’d failed, as usual, and you had aced it. I already knew that I wasn't going to graduate that year and I figured that I'd only hold you back."

"That's bullshit and you know it."

"That's how I felt though. You had this big dream of going to Columbia and I had nothing since I knew that I’d be stuck in Hawkins for another year,” he sighs, sounding a little embarrassed. “I was worried that you wouldn't go and yeah, it was really fucking stupid of me, but I did it for you."

"You shouldn't have decided that all on your own.” If only he had talked to you about it, things could have at least ended amicably, not with your heart shattered to pieces all over the floor. “God, you're such a jackass."

“I know. I realize that now. That’s why I was so glad that you were here, that I found you again.” He squeezes your hand and brings it up to his lips, kissing the back of it and letting his lips linger there as he continues. “It felt like I got a chance for a do-over, like I was getting a second chance to make things right.”

“I thought that you’d only be disappointed, that you’d just walk out on me again.” A very small part of you still thought that all of this was some elaborate joke. Even if you knew that Eddie would never do that, it was a hard feeling to shake. “I kinda… can’t stop myself from thinking that, even now,” you admit with a shuddering breath.

“I’d never do that,” he gives you a quick kiss. “Never,” he repeats while staring deep into your eyes, so you can see how honest he’s being. “You honestly have no idea how much that dumb decision weighed on me over the years, how much I regretted letting the girl that I loved more than anything slip through my fingers.”

You pull your hand away from him suddenly and for a second there he thinks that that’s it, you’ll never forgive him for what he did to you. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why was he even that big of an asshole? How could he ever have treated you like that? He was such a fucking-

His train of thought stops completely when you straddle his thighs from out of nowhere and you tap his forearms, mouthing the word “up” at him.

Eddie doesn’t even question it, lifts his arms instantly and lets you maneuver them the way you wanted, palms held up to you and you press your much smaller palms against his, lace your fingers through his and squeeze.

“There,” you say with some finality in your voice. “Can’t slip away if I do this, huh?”

The smile that you flash at him almost makes him choke and well up with tears, but then the look in your eyes makes him want to laugh until he cries because he can see what you want to say written all over your face.

Mister Big Rockstar. Such a fucking pussy. Practically in tears because we’re holding hands.

But that’s only half of it.

Throughout his time in Hawkins, you’d always been there in some way, ever since you were little kids. One day, you’d simply sat down next to him and gave him half of your strawberry jelly sandwich when his parents had failed to give him lunch that morning (which they usually did).

That was how the friendship had started.

After his mother died and his dad went to jail, his uncle Wayne had taken him in and the two of you became a very permanent fixture in Eddie’s life. Until he had fucked it all up, which he had all done for you as he had kept telling himself.

Still tore his heart in two every time that he saw you in the hallways at school after you had shut him out completely. It constantly made him want to run after you and drag you into an empty classroom, so he could explain why he had done what he did, but if he told you that there was always a chance that things could get worse.

Not like now, when you’re both older and wiser, and there’s no chance of either one of you running off. You could talk about it now, as adults, or some version of it at least, because Eddie still doesn’t feel very ‘adult’ if he’s totally honest.

The unshed tears are for the connection that he had with you for years, one that he threw away thinking that it would be better, but he got you back now. He’s right here, in your house, your bedroom, and yes, he loves you, always has.

You kiss the corners of his eyes and murmur, “What are you thinking about?” against his skin. “Talk to me.”

“Nothing,” he says too quickly and the way that you’re looking at him tells him that you don’t believe him at all. “Okay,” he chuckles instead. “You. I was thinking about you.”

“I’m right here,” you answer with a smile. “So you don’t have to think about me. Not when I’m right in front of you.” You release his hands and loop your arms around his neck. One of your hands moves to the back of his head, your fingers playing with his short hair, pulling on the curls. “I miss the hair.”

“Oh yeah?” You nod. “I could grow it long again. For you.”

“That’ll take ages.” You grab a handful of his locks and yank his head back. “Besides, it’s long enough to pull.”

“Little minx.”

“It was too tempting, I couldn’t help it.” His hands circle around your waist and his impossibly big brown eyes glaze over again. “Stop doing that. Just tell me what’s on your mind.”

“You. It’s always been you.” His honesty is making your cheeks burn. That was always the thing about Eddie, he could be brutally honest at times and he wasn’t trying to hide anything from you now. “I’m making you uncomfortable, ain’t I?”

“No, not really.” You press your cheek against his shoulder to avoid his intense gaze. “Just can’t deal with you looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

Pulling away, you sat up straight and looked into those impossibly deep brown pools that were his eyes again. “Like that.” You knew that it didn’t explain anything, but you would damn well try. “Like I’m… I don’t know… special.” When the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile, you covered it with your hand. “I know that it sounds stupid,” you laugh. “I can’t come up with the words to explain it.”

“You are special,” he mumbled against your hand. When you looked at him quizzically, despite having heard him perfectly, he repeated himself. “You’re very special.”

“Sap,” you giggled. “You’re pretty special yourself. You’re everything.”

It was a spur of the moment confession and not something that meant much of anything, but it still meant the world to Eddie. He kissed your palm and you let it drop away from his mouth, fully expecting him to lick it next.

That hadn’t been on his mind at all.

For most of his life he had been told that he would amount to nothing, just like his dad, and he had proven every naysayer wrong since then. Even when he was getting ready to skip out of town with his friends, with nothing but a crazy dream and some cash that they had saved up, there were still people that tried to talk him out of it.

The only one that believed in him was his uncle. And he was sure that you would have believed in him, too, would have told him to go and to never look back if you had still been around.

So you telling him that he was ‘everything’ had unexpectedly hit a soft spot.

Pressing forward, he kisses you then, hard. As if to somehow confirm that you’re really here, that this is really happening, that you’re not some kind of mirage that his mind had conjured up.

“Calm down.” You place your hand on his chest and gently push him back to put some space in between you two. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’d better not,” he replies. He runs a hand from your shoulder blade down to your ass and he squeezes the pliant flesh hard enough to leave a mark. “Feel that?”

“What kinda question is that?” you laugh. “Yeah, I felt that. Wanna do it again?” He repeats it, squeezing harder this time and digging his short fingernails into your skin until you let out a soft moan. “I swear to god, if you skip town tomorrow morning, I will never fucking forgive you.”

“If I’m leaving, I’m taking you with me.” You stare at him as if he just lied to you, as if this is just sex to him and he just told him what you want to hear. “I’m fucking serious, babe. I need you with me.”

He was offering you a ticket out, which was all that you ever wanted, but now that you have it, you don’t know what to say.

So you kiss him instead.

The kiss turns fiery, into a battle between lips with tongue and teeth thrown in, and you’re left gasping into his mouth as his teeth gently close around your bottom lip and pull. Eddie gasps himself when you reach down to wrap your fingers around his now fully erect cock.

“Need to fuck you,” he pants against your cheek. “Please let me fuck you.”

“Lay down,” you answer. “Scoot back on the bed and lay down for me.”

When you pull away, you do it with reluctance. It would have been far easier to simply sink down on him before, but you want him in a different way.

“Good boy,” you say when he does as he’s told, laying in the middle of your bed with his head pressed back against the pillows. You can tell that he likes being called a good boy so you store that away for later usage.

Moving up the bed, you straddle his waist and you press down against his stomach, making sure that he’s able to feel exactly how wet you still are. Reaching a hand back, you grasp his hardened shaft and give him a few tugs until Eddie bites his bottom lip.

“I’m gonna ride you,” you tell him as you move back a little, your wet cunt hovering over him. “That okay?”

“Y-yeah,” he hiccups. “I want you to.”

“Such a good boy.” You can see him shiver and it makes you snicker. “Don’t worry. Good boys get what they deserve.”

You position his cock in front of your entrance and sink down on him. Just a little at first. You pause when his tip has slid in and you moan exaggeratedly. You take some more, moving down until he’s about halfway in and when you look at Eddie, his expression has a slightly pained quality to it.

“You’re so big, Ed,” you keen out as you wink at him. He slaps your ass and the noise of the impact reverberates through the room.

“Brat.” His hands grab your hips and he pulls you down onto him a little bit more. “Stop teasing.”

“But it’s such fun. Don’t you like it? Not even a little bit?” Before he can say that he does or doesn’t, you shift your weight and his cock slips fully inside you. The two of you moaned in unison. “Fuck.”

For a short while, you don’t move, simply marinating in him, adjusting to his size and how full he made you feel. His fingernails had broken through your skin from how tightly he was gripping you, but you barely even noticed. Not when Eddie was underneath you, his eyes half-lidded and looking up at you with such a lustful gaze that it should have killed you on the spot.

“I’m gonna move now,” you mewl as you rock your hips back and forth experimentally. “Holy shit, Eddie.”

“Good?” You bite your lower lip and rotate your hips as your eyelids flutter shut. “Fuck, you look so good like that.”

“N-not so bad yourself,” you manage to reply with your eyes still closed, the image of him burned into your irises. You happen to angle your clit just right against the trail of hair that ran down from his belly button and gasped out, “My god.”

“Just me,” Eddie chuckled smugly. “But thanks anyway.”

“Bet you get that a lot, huh?” Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to think of now, Eddie with other girls, all of whom probably worshiped him. You open your eyes and lean down over him, your face inches away. “But you should probably be worshiping me instead.”

The boldness of your words almost makes you laugh, but the way that his hands gripped you tighter, stopping you from moving against him altogether, the little moan that escaped his plush lips and the way that his pupils seemed to grow even larger for a millisecond there…

“Oh god.” You couldn’t help the wicked tone that seeped into your voice as you talked. “Are you into that?”

“Y-yes.” His reply is bordering on bashful. “Want you to use me.”

“I will,” you say as you sit upright once more. “I damn well will.”

If that was what he wanted, who were you to deny him this?

Lifting yourself up, you groan as he slides out and before his cock can slip out entirely, you slam your hips back down. His hands shift to your ass, pushing you up when you move, but apart from that Eddie doesn’t offer much assistance.

This is all you.

“This what you want, pretty boy?” you ask while you play with your tits. He didn’t even have to answer your question, because it was written all over his face. “Me using you just to get off?”

“Fuck yeah, sweetheart,” he manages to answer. “That’s why I’m here-“ His sentence is cut off with a harsh gasp when you slam your hips down on his particularly hard, temporarily making him forget to draw another breath when the walls of your cunt grip him particularly hard. “Oh god yeah. Fuck. I’m here… j-just for you.”

“Good.” You place your hands on his stomach, pressing down on his sweat slicked skin. The same glistening sheen stuck to your skin as well, partly from the stifling heat outside that got in through the open windows but mostly from how hard you were exerting yourself. “Such a-fuck!”

Both of you swore loudly as you found an angle that was particularly good for both of you. You worked hard to find it again, angling your hips and grinding down so hard that it should have been intolerable, but your legs quivered every time that you got it just right.

The muscles in your thighs and abdomen flex as you keep up your rough pace, riding him roughly, and chasing the friction that would make your toes curl which was steadily building in your gut. Eddie keeps balancing you with his hands on your ass, rocking you a bit more forcefully.

Your right hand shifts and slides up, to the empty spot, right over his heart. You can’t stop yourself from digging your nails into his pectoral muscle and you feel it jump under your palm. You drag your nails over it, creating red marks, to give him something to fill up the space for a short while.

You want to leave your mark. Desperately.

If Eddie notices what you’re doing, he doesn’t say anything. All he does is lay underneath you, his hands tight on your ass, gripping so hard that the imprint of his hands were going to be on your flesh for days afterwards. Several stray strands of hair stuck to his wet forehead and you swore that you could see beads of sweat slide into his hairline every time that you moved. His blown out pupils are on your face at all times, as if he doesn’t want to miss a thing at all.

You wink at him and he chuckles. “You’re crazy.”

“No doubt about it,” you groan. “Oh fuck, Eddie, you’re in so deep.” You gyrate your hips against his once before leaning back, your hands planted on his thighs and moving your hips up and down. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You feel so fucking good.”

Your jaw goes slack when Eddie pushes his hips up, pressing himself even deeper inside than before, practically impaling you. Your head falls back, your eyes on the ceiling, and you jump slightly when you feel his thumb pressing against your clit.

His eyes are on the point where your bodies meet, where your cunt is dripping with your slick so much that he can feel it oozing down and coat his balls. The sound of skin slapping against skin, the sickening squelch every time that your pussy slams down on his cock, is like music to his ears.

The change in pitch of your voice, turning your desperate mewls into words that got strung together and mashed into one long continuous string of “ohfuckyessoclose” until it was reduced to nothing but “pleasepleaseplease” over and over again.

The words get more strangled the harder he rubs against the swollen bundle of nerves, your walls bearing down and constricting him, until one loud cry bursts from your lungs, his name, and the coil in your belly finally snaps.

Your orgasm washes over you with all the force of a tidal wave and your arms almost buckle behind you when it hits, but you just about manage to keep yourself upright. Eddie’s hands grip your hips tightly, taking over and fucking you through your blinding climax, chasing his own release as he rams himself up into you.

“Where?” His voice manages to pierce through the deafening rush of blood in your ears. “Where do you-“

“Inside,” you choke out. He doesn’t have to finish his sentence for you to know what he’s asking. “Come in-inside m-me.”

The words are barely out of your mouth when you feel his cock twitch, pumping wave after wave of cum inside you. He wouldn’t even have been able to pull out if you had told him to.

Eddie manages a few more tiny thrusts up into you until he’s completely spent. The tension in his muscles eases and his hands move to your lower back in an attempt to pull you forward.

You collapse on top of him a bit harder than you intended, a small “oomph” pulled from his lungs which made you snort out a laugh. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close and you briefly feel his lips connect with the top of your head.

You settle against him, your ear pressed to his chest, and you listen to his racing heartbeat, listening as it calms down and turns into a steady drum inside his ribcage. You can feel your eyes begin to close, seconds away from nodding off, when his hand clutches yours. Your fingers lace together, like they had done many times that night, and you hoped they would do many more times after tonight.

“I meant it, you know,” Eddie says softly, not sure if you’re already asleep or not since you hadn’t moved at all.

“Hm?”

“Everything that I said tonight.” Your mind floods with all kinds of words, there had been a lot of talking in between other things after all. “Every single word.”

“That’s nice,” you murmur, not really in the mood for talking as you drift off to sleep. You’d be kicking yourself for that dumb reply in the morning.

“I love you.” His lips touch the top of your head and they stay there. “Always have.”

“Mm,” you can’t stop yourself from yawning. “I love you too, Eddie.”

“Get some sleep,” he chuckles. “I wore you out.”

You’re too far gone to come up with a smartass reply and barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” to him before you finally doze off.

You didn’t sleep long. Your body had grown an inbuilt clock, ensuring that you woke up at around the same time every day, all because of the store.

Didn’t matter that it was Sunday today, you woke up early regardless.

Despite knowing full well what happened the night before, you’re still kind of surprised to find Eddie next to you when you wake. It takes some time for the realization to set in that it’s still ridiculously early, especially for him. Eddie had never been a morning person and you sincerely doubted that that had changed in your years apart.

When he stirs next to you, which was possibly because he could somehow sense that you were awake, you press your lips against his collarbone. His eyes slowly open, his vision momentarily bleary, and he needs to blink a few times to uncloud his eyesight and focus on you.

“Morning,” he croaks before yawning. “Fuck, it’s too early.”

“For you maybe,” you murmur while leaving a trail of kisses from his shoulder up to his neck. “You can go back to sleep.”

“When you’re kissing me like that?” He still sounds groggy, voice low as he rubs the palm of his hand over his closed eye. “Fat chance.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you grin. When you nip at his jaw, he lazily swats a hand against your arm. “Whaaaat?”

“Tease.” Tilting his head down, your lips finally meet, morning breath be damned. “Morning.”

“Morning, handsome.” His lips freeze and you can actually hear his breathing stall as well so you push yourself up and hover over him. “Did that just elicit a response?” you tease, poking a finger in his side. “Handsome.”

“I-I-“ His cheeks flush pink and a gleeful giggle erupts from your mouth. “I just like it, okay?”

“Aw,” you coo. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think that it’s cute.” Eddie covers his face with his hands and if anything, it just made him look even more adorable. “Alright, alright, I won’t make fun of you.” He spreads his fingers so he can fix one eye on you and then you throw in a quick, “For now.”

He rolls over on his stomach very dramatically with an unnecessarily loud groan and you’re torn between teasing him some more and throwing yourself on top of him.

You do neither, opting instead for getting out of bed completely. You’re only just grabbing a pair of panties out of one of the drawers next to the bed when you hear the bed creak.

“Come back to bed,” Eddie says behind you.

You’re ready to deny his request and you probably could have done it if you hadn’t turned around to face him. The sight of Eddie Munson, butt naked, would be a view that you knew that you would never tire of.

And you already knew that you would be unable to deny him anything.

Without arguing, you joined him again, dropping the underwear on the floor where it would lay completely forgotten for the next few hours.

“No witty replies or smart comebacks?” Eddie asks while you snuggle into his side. “Nothing?” You write the letters ‘N’ and ‘O’ on his stomach and remain silent. “I’ll just enjoy the silence then.”

The silence is pleasant, not uncomfortable like it can be sometimes, instead you lay there and listen to his heartbeat and his steady breathing. He draws patterns into your skin, wherever he can reach, swirls and waves and something that you think are supposed to be leaves and flowers, like he’s painting on you with an invisible brush.

“How quickly can you pack?” His voice is the first thing that cuts through the silence, just as he’s in the process of drawing star after star onto your skin. “Just the essentials so you’ll be good for a couple days.”

“Pack? Pack what?”

“You know, clothes, toothbrush, that kind of thing.”

“I can’t just leave,” you reply as you tilt your head up to look at him. “What about the store?” Even when you had been running nothing but losses for a while now, your first thoughts were of nothing but the store.

“We can get someone to open it up while you’re away?” he offers, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You know that you won’t be able to open the store every morning when you’re living with me, right?”

A half remembered comment from last night pops into your head suddenly, of Eddie saying that you would be coming with him if he left.

“You were serious?” you blurt out suddenly.

“Was I-“ When he shifts underneath you, you move back and sit up. Eddie does the same. “You thought I wasn’t serious?” He actually looks a bit hurt and that in turn makes your heart ache, too. “I’m not the kind of guy that says stuff like that just so I can get laid. You know me.”

“I do, I do.” You start backtracking immediately, not even sure what you want to say when you open your mouth. “It’s just that I’ve been disappointed before, so I don’t know, it sounded too fanciful,” you say apologetically.

“I would never, ever, play with your feelings like that.” He sounds so sincere that you immediately take his word for it. “That Eddie is long gone. I’m so fucking serious right now.”

You avert your eyes, ashamed, feeling awfully foolish right now. You feel his fingers on your jaw and your eyelids flutter shut when he rubs circles against your cheek with his thumb.

“I want you,” he repeats. “You think that I can go back after I got a taste of you? No fucking way. You’re coming home with me and you’re staying right there while I spoil the shit out of you. Fuck, I might even buy a ring to make it official the second I- we get back.”

“Eddie.” You gasp out his name, his sudden declaration enough to make your heart skip several beats. “That sounds good to me, but maybe not make promises that you can’t keep?”

“You doubt me?” He moves so that he’s sitting on his knees on the bed, arms gestured out to you dramatically. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was stark naked, you might even call the pose somewhat chivalrous, but it just looks a bit silly right now. “You doubt the devotion of Eddie the Bard?”

“Oh god!” You smack a hand against his chest and laugh loudly. “You’re such a dork.”

“Milady, I am deadly serious.” And he looked it, too. “Honest.” He reverts back to his normal self, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chest, his expression all serious. “You’re mine. I’ve known that since I was thirteen and covered in acne. I was a pussy about it before, but I’ve grown up since.”

“Barely,” you giggle. He tilts his head to the side and tries to give you his best disappointed look. “I couldn’t resist. Sorry, not sorry.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and continues, “As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me…” He presses your joined hands to your sternum and says, “Mine.” Then moves them to his chest. “Yours.”

He has the audacity to look slightly uncertain then, as if the prospect might somehow offend you, as if he was offering you something that could potentially be unwelcome and make you throw it back in his face.

“You know,” he mumbled before looking away. “If you want to, that is.”

As if you would say no.

“I want,” you reply softly, so softly that it’s barely a whisper, that he might not have heard at all, so you say it again. “I want.” And he definitely heard you that time. “Of course I do.”

His face lights back up immediately, as if millions of fireworks just went up into the sky, and he looks like he’s seconds away from screaming “REALLY?” and jumping up and down on your bed, but instead he surges forward and kisses you so hard that the two of you fall back on the mattress.

It feels like he kisses you for ages and your bodies start to move together languidly, with him growing hard against you. When he pulls away to draw in a deep breath, he gives you a dopey smile and your eyes are inexplicably drawn to that single curly lock of hair that’s draped over his forehead.

“Is that deliberate?” you ask as you flick at it with your fingers. “Do you pull that out every single day until it looks just right?”

“That’s what you want to talk about now?!”

“It’s been driving me insane since yesterday!” Eddie starts to laugh and you can feel your cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m sorry alright!”

“I’m not telling,” he chuckles. “So you’ll just have to deal with not knowing.” He sways his head from side to side and your eyes keep following the bouncing curl around as he does it. “Look at me.” You tear your eyes away from his hair with some reluctance and stare into his eyes which are as brown and warm as a mug of hot chocolate. “Mine?”

“What do you-“

“Mine?” He repeats himself a bit more sternly this time.

“Yours,” you answer. “I-I’ve always b-been yours.” You can feel your heart skipping a beat from his scrutinizing gaze. “Y-you said that I’ve had your heart for a long time, but the same thing goes for you.” You reach for one of his hands and place it over your heart like he had done yesterday. “It’s always been yours.”

Eddie looks at you as if you had just told him all the secrets of the universe, something a lot more important than a simple confession of love at least, but then his gaze turns hot and you close your eyes a split second before your lips meet again.

This time you could practically taste it, the promises, the devotion, the love. It was in every single movement of his lips against yours. You were an idiot for doubting his intentions for even one single second. How could you ever doubt him? You blame it on last night’s alcohol. It must have briefly clouded your judgment, muddying your mind and dragging up all your teenage uncertainties.

Those thoughts fade with every kiss. The way that Eddie kisses you makes it easy to forget all about your worries and doubts, tears it all down to its bare bones until it’s nothing but a boy and girl who have been denying themselves this for way too long.

There was no rush this morning, you could take it as slow as you wanted, and Eddie seems to want that as well, his movements slow as molasses in January.

His lips move away from yours, kissing and nipping down your jaw, moving against the shell of your ear where he softly murmurs, “That curl… I pull that one out on purpose every single day.”

“I knew it!”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes #mar moodboards

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axelsagewrites · 8 months

Text

Daemon Targaryen*Wedding

Pairings: Daemon x f!reader

Word count: 2619

Warnings: none just fluff

Masterlist here

This is the finale of the sugar baby series but can be read as a stand alone one shot

Sugar Baby series

Part one - Part two - Part Three - Part 4.5 - Part Four

You couldn’t believe this was your life. The cake had been ordered, your hair and makeup booked, and your wedding dress had just arrived after its final alterations. Your wedding dress to marry Daemon Targaryen in. The days counting down to the wedding had been some of the most stressful yet joyous of your life.

Daemon had insisted on doing the “twelve days of weddingmass” where each day his assistant dropped off either flowers or chocolates or trinkets and all with a handwritten note.

Four more days doll. Can’t wait to see you at the alter – d.t

Three more days doll. I’ll be the one in the stunning red suit – d.t

Two more days doll. Can’t wait to be able to show you off to everyone there – d.t

One more day doll. Gods, I love you – your soon to be husband

Daemon was currently staying at his brother’s house, insisting that you don’t see each other the day of the wedding. It was slightly odd to you how he suddenly valued traditions, but you weren’t going to complain especially not the night before your wedding.

Sara had come over earlier in the day to help you with final touches and your nerves since even though you loved Daemon with all your heart you were still nervous as hell. Daemon had secretly spoke to sara though so today you had enjoyed full body massages and a guided meditation that he had organised along with a massive bouquet of flowers.

“girl, are you excited?” Sara asked, practically jumping onto the couch beside you as you both relaxed in the matching lilac robes Daemon had bought you. “you’re getting hitched,”

You couldn’t help but grin as you sank back into the plush sofa, champagne in hand. “I didn’t think I’d ever be this lucky,”

“you deserve it babes,” sara said as she topped of both your drinks, “couldn’t think of a better couple. Apart from me and Jace of course,” she added with a cheeky grin.

“I’ll drink to that,” you laughed as you clinked your glasses.

Sadly, you could not stay up too late but trying to sleep was almost impossible. The next morning when you and sara woke, you had insisted you had a final sleepover in bed together, you headed downstairs to find breakfast already made. Daemon has sent over a private chef to make pastries and fancy coffees for you and sara with a note on the counter.

I love you so much doll and I cannot wait to see you walking down that aisle today – yours truly

You enjoyed the last few minutes of calm energy you could muster before you got the call the car was here to take you and sara to the venue. As you pulled up outside sara squeezed your hand, “you ready Mrs Targaryen?” She spoke.

You smiled, letting go a breath with the last of your stress, “let’s do this fucker,”

When you arrived to the getting ready room everything was in full swing. Three makeup artists lined the room with vanities set up with big lights and plush seats. There were hairdressers further up the room all decked out to the nines with extensions and curlers for your party. Sara had come with you but Rhaenyra, Baela, and Rhaena were already in the room.

Rhaenyra squealed when she saw you, running over to encase you in a tight hug. You had both become so close since you had announced your engagement, so you were grateful to have her by your side. Part of you wondered if Baela and Rhaena found having a young stepmom to be awkward but if they had they’d never said anything since Baela handed you a champagne flute and Rhaenyra started a toast.

“to the wedding of the century,”

You were halfway through getting your makeup done when the room fell quiet. You apologised to the lady doing it before turning around and seeing Alicent had just walked in the room. Rhaenyra was doing her best to pretend she didn’t exist while Baela glared at her step aunt.

Sara was beside you and nudged you to speak. You stammered for a second before speaking, “just in time. I think Beth is the one taking you now,” you said, gesturing her to go to one of the makeup ladies who smiled brightly at the woman.

Alicent nodded, silently walking over when you decided you couldn’t have these awkward vibes today. You quickly jumped out your seat to head to the drinks table, “white or red Alicent?” You asked, holding each bottled up.

“red please,” she smiled, her eyes flickering down with a sorry gaze behind them.

You poured the wine quickly before taking it over to her, your own glass in hand, “to family,” you said, raising your glass to toast hers. Alicent smiled warmly as you gently clinked your glasses together, “and to whoever picked out these wines since these are fucking delicious,” you joked as you headed back to your seat.

The room laughed, the tension finally gone when Alicent pipped up, “I had the red flown from Dorne. I had it there on my honeymoon. The whites from old town though. My grandmother’s vineyard,” she said, an awkward smile toying her lips.

“then you dear sister have great taste,” you grinned before shutting your eyes to have your eyeshadow done.

You could practically feel the tension melt away as the room buzzed with excitement. As you were finished getting your hair done Jace slipped in the room. “had to make sure you don’t run for it,” he joked in your ear as you got out your chair.

“you can’t get rid of me that easy,” you laughed as you admired the fine work in the mirror. You looked fucking gorgeous.

“I was also sent to give you this,” he said as he held out an open necklace box revealing a delicate silver locket with a red ruby on the front. You gasped lightly, your fingers trailing the fine metal, “it was my great grandmothers, Daemons mom. He said it was your something old,”

You smiled softly as Jace helped place the locket around your neck. You held the locket gently in your hand when you turned back, “tell him thank you,” you said and Jace nodded before quickly giving sara a see you soon kiss and disappearing.

“this is for you too,” Rhaenyra said as she stepped out of the makeup artists chair and looking absolutely stunning you would add. “something borrowed,” she said as she passed you another small box.

You opened it with confused eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile when you opened it, “it’s beautiful,” you said as you took the silver pin with the Targaryen crest on the front.

“you pin it to the inside of your dress. We all did it,” she said, and you wondered how many generations had worn this pin on their own special days, “welcome to the family,” she said, giving you another hug.

“im gonna cry,” you said, fighting back the tears.

“no crying on my watch,” Aemond’s voice snapped you out of it as he entered the room. “yes, this is the look,” he said as you pulled back from Rhaenyra, “told you these girls know their stuff,” part of you wondered how Aemond knew so much about hair and makeup and fashion but you did not question it when you realised he was holding your dress, “and this is for you,” he said as he hung it up and began to unzip it.

All your bridesmaids quickly gathered round to see your dress and gasps and awws rang across the grounds. “it’s beautiful,” sara said, hugging your shoulders from behind and resting her chin on your shoulder, “have I ever mentioned how jealous I am?”

“a few times,” you said laughing at her joke, “now get out of here Aemond. We gotta get me changed,” you said making the girls laugh and hoot and Aemond to quickly scurry off.

Sara agreed to help you get into your dress while the others got into there’s. She had been practising doing up the corset strings on a mock up for weeks, so it was easy for her to quickly do you into the fine soft fabric. It was a crystal white colour with soft lace and tulle cascading down like a princess in a fairy tale.

All the girls kept oohing and ahhing when you revealed the dress. Alicent had went round the room making sure all the red wine was tucked away now you were all in your proper dresses. Rhaenyra, Alicent, Baela, and Rhaena all wore deep red satin bridesmaid dresses that in your opinion looked absolutely stunning on them. Now it was just sara to get dressed in her maid of honour outfit which while was the same cut and fabric was instead in a dark black shade.

Daemon had arranged for them all the be gifted alexander McQueen shoes which made sara almost cry as she slipped them on. However, your shoes were custom from Louboutin with a blue bottom instead of red to complete the tradition.

Soon you were ushered down the hall and waiting for the music to play. You got to finally see your groomsmen. Jace was there in his black suit waiting to take saras arm with a quick kiss. Cregan was introducing himself to a very flirty Baela who was keen to take his arm. Luke was chatting away to Rhaena who he would be escorting down and Aemond was on a walkie talky talking about something that he refused to tell you about. He was going to be walking his mother while Aegon who turned out to be less of an asshole than you first thought was waiting to walk with his sister.

Aegon quickly walked over to you, giving you a brief hug before whispering in your ear, “I’ve got a flask and a getaway car. Which will it be?” He said as he pressed the flask into your side discreetly with a cheeky grin.

You swotted at him but smiled as you took a swig of what you soon learned was straight vodka. “Christ Aegon what the fuck?” You said as you tried to recover from the vile taste, “you need better taste,”

“story of his life,” Aemond muttered as he ditched his headset, “places people we’re walking in 10. Get in order,”

Luke and Rhaena walked first, then Cregan and Baela, then Aemond and Alicent, then Aegon and Rhaena, then Jace and sara then finally you. As each couple started their walk you felt your eyes tear up at the sound of the wedding march. Sara reached back to squeeze your hand as Aegon and Rhaenyra began their walk.

You looked up when someone cleared their throat to see Viserys stood there in a clean black suit, “may I?” He smiled, offering his arm. You were touched since you had no one else to give you away and gladly took his arm.

Sara sent you an assuring smile before she started her walk and then it was you. You took one final deep breath before turning to your soon to be brother, “let’s do this,” you said. You could feel your feet moving but everything suddenly became so surreal as the entire room stood to welcome you. But when you looked down the aisle to see a teary-eyed Daemon turn around you knew you would be alright.

The ceremony went off without a hitch. No one objected, no phones pinged, and somehow you managed to not ruin your makeup despite being teary eyed the whole time. After signing the official papers and finally getting to kiss Daemon after a full 24 hours without him you were finally married.

You let out a sigh of relief as the limo door closed behind Daemon to take you to the wedding reception. “hello Mrs Targaryen,” Daemon grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek.

“hello husband,” you grinned back, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“ooh I like the sounds of that doll,” Daemon said, his hand reaching to cup your jaw to deepen the kiss. You heard a click and when you looked up you noticed the driver had closed the partition and you laughed before turning your attention back to your new husband.

You arrived at the wedding venue with Daemon trying to help tame your hair and you straightening his tie. Your wedding party was waiting outside for you both to start their entrances. Luke and Rhaena were up first, dancing into the room while Gangnam style blasted from the speakers making everyone cackle. Next up was Cregan and Baela who both wore pink feather boas as they danced into wannabe by the spice girls, and you wondered how often they had to meet for their choreography.

It was Aemond and Alicent you were worried about since you had never seen either danced but everyone started to hoot and holler when we are family came on and they danced in with a very choregraphed elaborate ball room move that would make strictly jealous. Alicent had some moves damn. This was quickly followed by im sexy, and I know it by lmfao blasting as Aegon and Rhaenyra with Aegon walking on his hands and doing a flip while Rhaenyra wore a backwards baseball cap and sunglasses.

The whole room was already sore from laughing when it was Jace and saras turn. Dear future husband rang out as the pair span each other about and sara walked around showing off a large ring pop on her hand. You and Daemon had been waiting behind the doors, looking out and trying not to laugh at your friends and families’ antics.

“and finally, may I announce my best friend and everyone’s favourite uncle. Mrs and Mr Targaryen,” sara yelled into the mic making everyone burst into a round of applause. Sadly, for you both you did not choregraph a hilarious dance but instead ran in, hands held tight, as everyone applauded you both running to the sweetheart table before speeches would start.

While you loved the sentiment even you had to admit some of the speeches were a drone. That was until saras hilarious maid of honour speech where the whole room was laughing harder than at any point so far. Then it was Daemons turn to thank everyone for coming and then he turned to you, “and I couldn’t have done it without you doll. You have been my everything, a shining light in this hellish world and I thank you for that,” he said, his voice tearing up making you reach for his hand, “I love you and im gonna stop before I embarrass myself,” he said as he handed the microphone over.

The whole night was perfect. You danced your first dance to lover by Taylor swift and danced till your feet were about to fall off. You couldn’t have asked for a better night especially when right at the end Daemon decided to sweep you off your feet, literally, to carry you out to your limo he had waiting with even more champagne.

“where are we going?” You asked as you noticed the driver take a wrong turn.

Daemon smirked as he squeezed your hand, “right now we’re going to the Martell plaza hotel so that tomorrow morning we can catch our plane,” he said making you turn around excitedly in your seat. While Daemon allowed you to decide anything you wanted for the wedding, he had insisted on planning the honeymoon, “hope you’re ready for four weeks in Dorne doll. That is if I let you leave the hotel room”

Taglist: @clairacassidy @valeskafics @starkleila @delicious-xx @pet1t3 @skyesayshi @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dark-night-sky-99 @lantsovheiress@themotherofblood @avalyaaa @simbaaas-stuff @lunampacheco

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foreficfandom · 3 months

Text

POV: You Are Actually MUCH More Powerful Than Alastor (ch. 2 - "Flashbacks")

(Alastor x Reader, g/n, queerplatonic/sex and romance favorable, fan theories, God!Reader) (AO3)

Alastor was always a man who craved control and attention. Ninety-odd years of being a demon has long since mutated his mortal desires into a festering appetite. While he was alive, it was a very mundane longing for the spotlight. Being the sought-after host of his own radio show was as close as being his own boss he could realistically hope for. The masses could listen and fawn over his charisma and humor while ignorant of his champagne hue.

If he wanted more, he would have to turn to drastic measures.

Young Alastor had made the station affluent, so they could afford to get their hands on any show recording they wished. One autumn, they aired The Witch’s Tale, a trailblazer for being the first horror-themed show on the radio. It garnered controversy from the conservative crowd, but ratings didn’t lie. New Orleans loved the series.

Alastor relayed the local news in his typical rapid-fire speech, a fashionable showman’s chatter made even faster thanks to his Creole blood, and as he speed-read his script in real time, he recited a quick advertisement for Madame Jones’ Hot Comb Oil before running the magnetic carbon ribbons of The Witch’s Tale. Voices of the actors took over the air. He drew a breath from a cigarette and leaned back on his chair. Alastor’s voice was now due for a rest until the current tape ran dry.

This was his first time hearing the show as well. Short horror tales were narrated by a fictional character named Old Nancy, one of the witches from Salem. The first tale was of a Venus statue come to life to slay the son of its sculptor, the second adapted from the real life confessions of the convicted Scottish witch Isobel Gowdie, the third clearly ripped off from Stevenson’s The Bottle Imp, and so on. After each tape, Alastor came back on the air for more news, advertisements, and the occasional social commentary. A quick joke about the Nipponese making waves on the West coast, a little update on McKinley’s first year back in office.

If he were to be candid, each episode of The Witch’s Tale was a gamble of hit or miss. Some were near contrived. But a few were quite satisfactory.

Most interesting was the narrator. After each tale, Old Nancy would reveal a bit more of her backstory. She never married. She grew her own food and earned her own money selling poultices. She may or may not have slept with both men and women. Her cat was a demon familiar. Her house was constructed partly from the bones of her victims.

Alastor found himself lost in thought. A young maiden, a pregnant mother, and an old widow swam through his mind. But the fourth woman … standing apart from the others, free from the grasp of a husband’s heavy greedy fist, proudly dangerous. A woman alone, but free. The maiden, matron, and crone, and now the witch.

Suddenly, Alastor saw himself repeated four times in place of the women. He was the scrawny teenage boy, then his current self, then a wizened old man, and in place of the witch was this enchanting visage of his long-lived personal fantasy, chest thrust upwards and smile brazen.

He tapped his fingers against his stomach as a strange thought overtook him. Could one become the witch?

Could Alastor be truly free from the Man’s grasp?

Hidden deep in the winding alleyways of New Orleans, voodoo was still going strong despite the coppers’ efforts. When mother was still alive, she would buy dry goods and miscellaneous wares from a small negro outlet run by Haitian immigrants, and locals knew that the shop’s upstairs hid a small voodoo church, an open secret amongst those uninterested in contacting police for any reason, even if they themselves weren’t practitioners.

Alastor knew nothing of voodoo. Mother was Lutheran, father had apparently been a loose Catholic. Church Sundays had tapered off by the time Alastor was nine, as did house praying aside from Christmas eve, and mother was near illiterate so there was no Bible reading. He never asked her if she was still faithful after dropping the more superfluous habits. Alastor’s heart ached at the thought of mother barred from the gates of Heaven.

He heard the horror stories of this dread voodoo religion. He, himself, has recited many sensational reports of sacrificial rituals and cannibalistic orgies, almost certainly all fear-mongering bullshit, but plenty enough believed that voodoo witches and warlocks used a black magic. Cursing good Christian families to die of plague, using living shadows to ensnare children away, poppets with needles, sigils that glow, that sort of malarkey.

If I could curse people, or control a tangible shadow, it would be a right gasser, he thought to himself.

A steady list of potential victims formed in his mind. Number one, the man who abandoned his wife and child to a stricken life of poverty. Just harmless daydreaming. Maybe.

Alastor used to say to himself, ‘thank God’ that mother was such a genius, otherwise they’d never have survived.

He wonders if he would soon be swearing different oaths.

—

To your nose, virginity didn’t have a strong smell or energy, but innocence did. The first time the two of you met, you had sensed Alastor’s putrid, gore-soaked body roaming the hotel long before he could sense you approaching the front door, although you allowed him to believe he had the upper hand. Murderers, especially those who lusted, were very blatant. A subtle pang told you that Alastor didn’t lust for flesh like many men did. His body smelled virgin, but more telling, his powers would not be affected should that come to change. After all, only someone uncaring of an aspiration would not evolve from achieving it.

Alastor was not innocent. Not like princess Charlie. Not like the children sinner souls.

He may not have a clue what Angel Dust meant by wearing a “special sort of ring ”, but hunger had many forms.

Flesh, blood, and bone were common sacrifices made to manifest power. A human’s physiology cultivated some of its greatest energy from fats and protein, so it made sense why Alastor’s curse would force him to fuel by consuming meat. But if he were in kinder circumstances, he might have instead been encouraged to eat any other sort of matter, or not fuel himself through food at all.

Clearly, Alastor’s debtors wanted to corrupt the man beyond what murder would do to his mind and soul. The more Alastor killed, the more he ate, the more powerful he grew, and the more he’d need to eat. He became a slave to his appetite.

You wondered if it was because they couldn’t affect him through his loins, so they chose the closest alternative.

In any case, Alastor did resent his need for nourishment, just not nearly as much as he resented the actual chains. It helped that he has always found fulfillment in creating, eating, and sharing food, and there was a very good place in Hell for that kind of attitude.

Cannibal Town didn’t become a proper, distinct district until Overlord Rosie’s rise to status. The industrial revolution had created a great epidemic of poverty, and many struggling in the developing American frontier had turned to cannibalizing the dead to survive, from the children to the elderly, only tapering off when a successful ‘20’s economy rose to the rescue. Rosie turned the predominant Edwardian-era population into its current image. Walking through Cannibal Town’s streets of petticoats and boater hats, it was like stepping back into one of your past lifetimes as a New Yorker under Taft, watching Florence Lawrence in picture shows and seeing oreo cookies on the shelves for the first time.

In fact, ‘oreo’ biscuits were sold in Cannibal Town, imitating their original tin box packaging, but they were made with rendered human fat rather than pork tallow. Rosie wanted her people to embrace their partaking, rather than languish in their past sins, or hide their undying appetite. Human flesh wasn’t an addictive substance, but cannibalism certainly was. It was as habit forming as any other ritual gesture, like how Vaggie wakes up in the morning to tie her hair ribbon right-over-left, or how Husk always arranges the bar’s bottle storage just so, or how Alastor uses an old pewter pot to boil his coffee over the stove fire. Many of these antiquated cannibals treat their slaying, butchering, and eating with the same love they used to have for the Eucharist.

Alastor’s affinity for Cannibal Town wasn’t quite because he felt kinship between their cannibalism. Fondness for Rosie aside, it was the best source of properly prepared human meat for sale, trimmed and bled as thoroughly as venison chuck. Passionate cook he may be, but he never had the patience for true butchering. Especially whilst mortal, and in Hell, a victim could easily be ten feet tall with several limbs. Who aside from the butcher had time to set aside eight hours for that?

No, Alastor’s reasons and fondness for partaking wasn’t commonly shared amongst the Cannibal Town locals. Most likened it to a sexual gratification. Many saw it as an alternative way to rape the weak. Some saw it as their only outlet for frustration. Some just wanted to fit in.

And to them, cannibalism was a very social hobby. Proper ladies found great sisterhood in tearing into a corpse like starving wolves, respectable men could now exercise their libido amongst other men by delving deep into flesh as a group. But whilst Alastor, too, socialized through food, eating mortal flesh was his curse, not his indulgence.

You knew for a fact that ever since the inception of his deal, Alastor's clause for cannibalism would quickly morph into an honest taste for it, but Alastor could only hypothesize if that was the case, or he just simply lost his mind sometime after his fourth killing.

Alastor shook himself out of his reverie as he approached the door to his favorite Cannibal Town grocer, you following close behind. He had been finding himself lost in his own thoughts more and more often, lately. No doubt due to your influence.

He could have shut down in complete bewilderment, but he was Alastor, damn it all, so he will garner the bravery to take the next step forward, then the step after that, and so on.

Towards a brighter future, he dared to hope.

He opened the door for you, and the two of you entered the little store. Like all grocers before the ‘50’s, the wares weren’t self-serve. Alastor summoned a paper list, and read off what he wanted to purchase. The mustached shopkeeper brought forward each item onto the counter before ringing them up on the register, using an old exertion scale for the fresh goods. A pound of dried red beans, a rasher of salted belly, a loaf of sugar, three pounds worth of scrap shin bones, and four red capsicums. You noticed that the capsicums - the bell peppers - were the smaller, pointier variety sold during Alastor’s lifetime, before cultivation increased their size and yield. Likewise, the sugar loaf was compressed into an old-fashioned triangular cone, wrapped in paper, not a pure white but a light flaxy yellow from its residue molasses. All the manufacturer’s labels were a parody of their living equivalents. The burlap sack of Camellia-brand kidney beans was of a bloody heart with green, thorny vines named “Carnillia”, instead of the original round flower.

The shopkeeper wrapped the raw meats into their own smaller bag. It went unsaid, but they were obviously human remains. You reached forwards to carry the groceries whilst Alastor was occupied with paying, but then said to you, “Nonsense, dear,” and reclaimed the load in a gentlemanly manner. A polite, but largely useless gesture, as it’d take monolithic mass to truly test your physical prowess, and Alastor had his own increased strength as an Overlord.

In fact, the last time you struggled to carry an object with all your true power, it had created a black hole where it fell.

Part of Alastor’s original deal for power was certainly to improve his meager physical ability, as he was like many young men who pictured their ideal self boasting some petal to the metal. His lean muscles did not swell, and he couldn’t bench-press an automobile, but he did find a great force behind his punches, and his running speed, and even when he twisted open a pickle jar. It had been a relatively mundane boon compared to his showier magic, but the knowledge that you couldn’t be physically overtaken was intoxicatingly empowering. Alastor finally understood why burly brutes acted so brazen, even if his silhouette didn’t display it.

Yes, his original deal was as righteous as any young person’s plea for bravery. But whilst some may only ask for a sword, he had asked for a legion.

And by mother’s grave, he got it.

Father had been his original sacrifice. He tracked down the drunkard squatting in a Chalmette hobo jungle, and knifed him in the belly until the wretch’s blood flow slowed to a crawl. He spent all night dragging the corpse across town and to the lake, right where the most notorious of voodoo orgies were said to take place, and mimicked the manbo’s ceremony, finger painting vèvè before shouting - begging, screaming, really - for anybody or anything to answer him.

He always tries to avoid remembering what came next.

Mother hadn’t passed, yet, but she was on her deathbed. She had been fighting scarlet fever for weeks, and pneumonia had developed. Alastor himself had a brief sick spell due to contamination, but he refused to move out of the house. If his mother was about to leave this world, he wanted to be there.

Mother’s pauper’s burial was baptized in Alastor’s second killing. A eugenic small-time politician one neighborhood over, who would have never achieved his meager position if it wasn’t for connections, thanks to the scandal of marrying his fourteen-year-old niece. For this attack, Alastor let his new powers bloom freely, but his inexperience left the corpse a complete mangled mess. Indeed, the shocking state of the body was what first sparked rumors of the Butcher Of New Orleans. Named so because of the man’s conspicuously missing flesh and organs, leading the police to rightly profile the suspect as a cannibal.

Life went on. Alastor’s mind and mood matured, and he hit his stride. He grew from radio host to radio star. He made plenty of honest friendships. He found innocent fun, and also learned to refine his not-so-innocent ones. By age 37, Alastor had a celebrity career, a Cadillac automobile, a sparkling reputation, and a total body count of twenty-eight men.

A month before he would turn 38, he found himself in hell. He remembered that his first action was to look around, expecting to see his father as if the man would, by chance, be standing on the nearby street corner. He looked up, and saw the glowing celestial body that must be heaven, high above and unreachable.

He wondered if mother was simultaneously looking down. Or was she still waiting for her dutiful son to show up and join her? Alastor had made great effort to ensure that mother never knew of how much of a monster her son really was.

Slowly coming back to the present, Alastor found himself wistfully looking at the morning sky as the two of you waited for traffic to halt. The haloed planisphere was partially hidden by daytime cloud cover, but one could spot the ever present gateway to heaven just about visible.

You followed Alastor’s gaze to the skies above. As remote as heaven may seem to the eye, you knew that it wasn’t a matter of distance. After all, heaven and hell weren’t places. They were states of being. You told him so last night, since he was under the impression that with just enough power, he could track down his debtor.

Unfortunately, if a suitably powerful being didn’t want to be found, no amount of searching would work.

He had bristled at that, fur on his ears standing, and paced away.

Then spun around with renewed, fake bravado, and said he would lure them here.

“How?” you asked.

He had no idea, but just twirled his cane into both hands with a closed eye grin. Apparently, he’d think of something.

Before the night concluded, he told you that all these earth-shattering revelations would have to be mulled over a hefty serving of his favorite comfort food, so you and him would dine privately a stew of baked beans. An especially fatty and. Well. Cannibalistic recipe of his.

So it came to be that the two of you left the hotel early next morning for some shopping, which of course caught the eye of nearby Niffty, who would most certainly be relaying the latest gossip to everyone else.

Let them talk. Alastor loved being the hottest gossip topic, and the friendships you choose to keep are yours alone.

Of course, most of them suspected that there was more than friendship involved. Not the wording you’d choose, but perhaps it wasn’t inaccurate.

There was divinity between the two of you, now. Every time you’ve muddled in mortal affairs, great cosmic connections formed between your souls. Inevitable, considering who you were, but they often had great repercussions. You considered every one of them worth the trouble.

That afternoon, the two of you entered the kitchen once more, but this time you stood by and watched as Alastor prepared a kettle to hang over his fireplace. Per his request (demands), you arrived to his room at eight on the dot to his little table set with sliced bread and a decanter of whiskey. The pocket swamp beyond was darkened and dotted with lazy fireflies. A radio station played, but not from the two sat on his bookshelf, nor emitting from Alastor himself, just directionless in the air as if the room itself breathed radio.

“Please, come on in,” he bowed, just a tad overweening. Say what you will about the man, he bounces back from existential despair pretty gracefully.

One of the seats slid out on its own accord. You sat obligingly to the tantalizing smell of spice, partially masking your ability to detect the human remains in the stew. As Alastor sat across from you, the disembodied radio chatter in the air twitched frequencies to instead play a wordless ballad.

“I took the liberty of choosing tonight’s choice of drink,” he said, pouring whiskey for the both of you. “I know it’s a bit early in the evening for the mule, but indulge this pitiful sinner.”

“It’s your meal, after all.” And true enough, Alastor stood no ceremony in digging a spoon deep into his bowl. Alcohol had its particular effects on you, so you reversed the fermentation of your whiskey into a poof of evaporated ethanol and a wet pile of sugar, mostly to amuse yourself, also to sneak a pinch of malt into your bow to cut some of the fat. Alastor had made the stew so rich, you could probably alchemize a toddler from the lipids.

You watched as Alastor relished deeply in his first spoonful. Fats, you remembered, was sometimes a more affordable grocery than sugar or flour, depending on the slaughter season. A poor Alastor would have grown up being treated to cheap, streaky bacon more often than beignets or hot cocoa.

“Just as mother made it,” he sighed wistfully, as if reading your mind. Far from the first time he’s mentioned his mother aloud, but before it had always been a set up for a jape, his comedian nature never at rest, and not unfiltered sentimentality. He must know that it was useless to hide secrets from you.

You forwent the malt sugar to taste the dish as it was intended. Surprisingly, it was shockingly laced with pure intentions that caressed your tongue and made tears well up behind your eyes. You didn’t think Alastor was capable of it.

It tasted like love.

Maybe he had more of a chance than you first thought.

—

Supper continued throughout the night. Alastor downed one, two, and was working on his third bowl before the conversation turned to the elephant in the room.

“- and when I kill the wretches souls who’ve clipped me like a duckling, I’ll -”

“Cool the jets, Alastor. We’d have to find them, first.” You stepped in before he could wind himself up.

“See, I’ve been thinking,” he took a hearty swig from his third glass of whiskey, "take it from a man with a couple of his own eggs in the basket. You know what makes a debtor knock on the front door faster than a twinkle?”

“What?”

He grinned angrily. “If he thinks there’s more debt to be had. You spot a way to keep your favorite minion closer to your chest for longer, you take it before someone else can.”

With a twist of his wrist, he downed his glass and slammed it none too quietly on the table. His eyes no longer meeting yours and burning holes into the wall over your elbow. “So! You help me advertise my devilish self as desperate for another deal, or perhaps just a clever amendment clause or two, and I promise you, they’ll show up.”

“And then what’ll we do?”

“End their wretched lives! What else?”

“Life began millions of years ago, and it hasn’t stopped since. Your jailer has long since learned to take advantage of that.” You calmly lounged with loosely crossed legs and arms, while Alastor was beginning to hover over the table like an angry ape. “There’s no way to ‘end their life’ in a manner you’d care about.”

With his face so close, you could smell the whiskey on his tongue along with an unfortunate whiff of antiquated dental hygiene standards. He wasn’t quite yet drunk, but was certainly not sober.

Your words gave him pause, but a radio star never let dead air stagnate. “Well, perhaps it was never a matter of killing them. No proper creditor makes their debtor more powerful than he.”

You said, “Your leash has its share of loopholes and weakness, like all contracts do. There’s never a way to fully avoid them, so most make additions that forbid them.”

Green stitches all along his maw. In one blink, you saw Alastor in his full pitiful glory, glowing neon-bright inverted hues, rotted body held together haphazardly with unforgiving threads. In another blink, Alastor was his normal outward self.

Back and forth you flipped your vision, trying to find any clues or conclusions. Snipping the threads would just make him fall apart. There must be a gentler conclusion.

Suddenly, you remembered what he said. “Alastor, how many debtors do you own?”

“Oh, I can’t remember the exact number. Ninety years is a long time. The answer’s somewhere in my ledger, I’m sure,” he waved a hand.

“Lend me a look. Please,” you added when Alastor’s glare turned vicious, “it’s important. You can trust me.”

“Now, how in the world would my own roster matter to my predicament?”

You leaned forward, meeting Alastor’s couched posture in the middle. “I made a promise, didn’t I? I promised you true liberty. If you want my help, then let me help.” You kept your voice low as if whispering a secret, even though no one was around to overhear. No one Alastor could see, anyways.

A heartbeat passed, then another. Then, with a great crackling of old vertebrae like he had suddenly aged decades, Alastor reigned in his defenses.

Has he ever yielded so completely since granted his powers? No wonder it felt so dreadful, like shaking off a carpet of cobwebs.

Never let it be known that Alastor was a chap who couldn’t learn something new, you heard him think bitterly. A dry exhale aired throughout the room as elongated shadows retreated, electric bulbs shone brighter, and the fireplace changed from eye-searing blacklight back to its natural warm glow.

Nonchalant smile back on his face, Alastor wiped his hands with a napkin and stood.

“Ah well. No time like the present, then?”

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