#just like the very beginning but. still. i liked it and hardly edited that part lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bucks-babe · 4 months

Text

Munch

Pairing: Virgin!Bucky x f!reader

Summary: Bucky gets his first taste

Warnings: Angst in the beginning (mentions of Hydra and potential abuse), smut (oral f!receiving, fingering), Bucky humps the bed, sub!bucky, mommy kink ( I don’t know what came over me), aftercare, slight overstimulation, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Not me disappearing. Oops. Special thanks to @bucknastysbabe for proof reading and edits. Part of the Virgin!Bucky series of one shots but can be read alone

Next to you in bed, Bucky was twisting and turning. He agreed for you to sleep over in his room after this week's movie night. Ever since the night you both ‘watched’ When Harry Met Sally, Bucky had been acting weirdly. At first you thought that maybe he was just embarrassed; it was his first sexual experience after all. But he hasn’t looked you in the eyes for more than three seconds before blushing and turning away.

It had been almost two weeks since that night, and now you’re starting to get worried that you pushed him too far. What if he wasn’t ready for you to see him like that? What if he didn’t want you to touch him but he didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying no? Did you violate his trust? You worked so hard to get him to trust you, to be the person he can always turn to.

You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you forced his hand. After so many years of not having any choices, or any control of his body, maybe Bucky got used to seeing himself as a toy, an object to be used and not as his own being, entitled to saying no if he didn’t want something. “Did I do something, Buck?” It comes out as a whisper, but he catches it with his super hearing.

Bucky’s entire body freezes. “No,” is all he says, looking up at the ceiling in the dark. He doesn’t know how to stay still around you. Not when his brain is replaying the events from a few weeks ago, happened in the very same bed he is laying in. How fucking good you made him feel, how pretty you looked, and how he’s been fucking himself almost every night since, dreaming about you.

Bucky has no idea that you think you’ve pushed him too far. If anything, he wants more. He wants you to blow him again, wants to eat you out, and above all, he wants you to take his virginity. He craves for you to be his first and only, to corrupt him, show him every dirty thing possible, teach him how to fuck. But he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

“Is this about what happened a few weeks ago? I need you to tell me if I crossed a line and made you feel like you had to say yes.” You need to know if you did something he didn’t want, make sure that he feels comfortable enough to set boundaries. You also don’t need to clarify what incident you are referring to. The two of you haven’t done anything near that intense since.

Bucky’s eyes widen and he flips onto his side to look at you, the light of the moon showing how glassy your eyes are. “No, Doll! I wanted that to happen, I promise! It’s not that.” With his metal hand, he pulls you into his chest, needing you close to him. He can’t believe you would think that he didn’t want you to suck his dick. Bucky chokes up a little at how much you care, not used to warmth and care for him as a person.

Hydra cared about his physical health, making sure he was ready for the next battle, that he was strong enough to carry out his mission, not him, never him. You, on the other hand, are right here in his arms scared that you coerced him, because you care for him.

“Then what is it? I feel like I’ve done something. You’ve hardly looked at me these past two weeks.” You pull away enough to look him in the eyes, seeing his blush.

“Oh, doll, this is so embarrassing.” You reach up and cup his face with your hands, silently encouraging him to proceed. “It’s not because I didn’t want you to,” his eyes leave yours, “you know.” A small chuckle leaves your lips at his shyness. “It’s because that’s all I’ve been thinking about, and more.” The end of his sentence comes off in a whisper, not intending for you to hear.

A weight comes off your chest and you laugh, much to Bucky’s chagrin. “Honey, that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” At his frown, you kiss his nose, then his cheeks, before landing a chaste kiss to his pouting lips, giggling in between each peck. “You had me scared. And here you were just being a little horn dog.”

“It’s not funny.” Bucky buries his head into your neck while you continue to laugh; however, you feel his smile. After a minute he pops his head back up, “Okay, maybe it’s a little funny.”

You both laugh for a while until you remember his sly, ‘and more’ comment. You find his shyness adorable, but you want to corrupt this man, if he’ll let you of course, so you feel compelled to pry about his tiny admission. “What else were you thinking about doing? With me”

Bucky groans, face still buried in your neck. “What do you mean?” He decides to play coy, knowing that it won’t work. Your hand goes to his hair and you lightly tug on it, pulling his head up. A choked groan leaves Bucky’s lips and he grinds his hips against your stomach. At the look on your face, he feels like he could cum right there, and he feels such a deep and powerful urge to be good for you, to do whatever you want him to.

“I wanted to do what you did to me… on you.” His cheeks are as red as a tomato, and you feel your own arousal pool in your panties. Evidently, Bucky could smell your wetness as his eyes darkened.

“You wanna eat me out, honey? You wanna try to eat pussy for the first time?” You still have your grip on his hair, and you can feel how hard his cock is from where he’s grinding against you. He nods his head, only to have you pull on his hair, “Use your words like a big boy and tell me.”

“Yes, mommy. I wanna eat you out, but I don’t know how. I need mommy to teach me.” Your eyes widen at the title but Bucky doesn’t seem to realize, eyes foggy and mindlessly humping you. Poor baby had dropped headfirst into sub-land.

“Don’t worry, honey, mommy will teach you. Such a good boy for using your words.” Bucky whines as you pull away from him to turn on the lamp on the bedside table, hips chasing any type of friction they can. “If you want to eat mommy out, honey, you have to let me move.”

After turning the lamp on, you kneel on the bed, gesturing for Bucky to follow, which he does without hesitation. “Bucky, are you okay with this? I need to make sure this is something that you want.” You stop Bucky from laying you down when his only answer was a gentle, “Yes mommy.” You need him to be present when he consents and when you get him to look you in the eyes, see the fog behind his eyes clear up some, then you accept his consent, knowing that this is something that he is okay with.

You let him lay you down on the bed, with him in between your legs. “Take mommy’s clothes off, honey.” Immediately, Bucky goes to take your shorts off, taking your panties off with them, feeling the cool air hit your slick. You could feel your clit pulsing at the sight of Bucky right next to your cunt.

“Mommy, your pussy is so pretty. Can I lick it, please?” You don’t miss the way Bucky’s hips are rocking against the bed.

“Not yet, honey. First, I want you to use your hands, okay?” You could tell how excited he was, and how confused. “Touch mommy’s clit with your thumb.” He was a little over enthusiastic and was a little too hard, making you wince and your hips jerk, but you couldn’t blame him - the poor thing was clueless.

“A little lighter, just like that, good boy. Now rub it in circles, shit, uh huh.” Bucky was watching you like a fucking hawk, torn between watching your face contort or watching the way your clit was throbbing and slick was seeping out of your hole. He was salivating at the thought of having his first taste of you; your smell alone could have him cumming on command.

“Do you feel good, mommy?” He needed your confirmation. His cock was harder than ever pushed up against the bed. He knew that he should slow his hips down, but it was like he was watching the sexiest porno ever, eyes drawn to the slick leaving your pussy, how you were drenching the sheets underneath you.

“Feels so good, honey. Now I want you to use your index finger and put it inside real gentle.” Bucky was absolutely incredible at following directions and reading your body, seeing what you were responding to. “Curl your finger, fuck, good boy! Use your mouth now, on mommy’s clit.” Bucky whines, he wants to be your good boy so fucking bad.

At your direction, Bucky latches onto your pulsing clit, moaning at his first taste, and holy hell, Bucky feels his cock twitch and he knows he's about to cum. He flattens down on the bed, humping faster, his moans match yours in volume. Pride blossoms in his chest - he’s making you feel good. He’s being a good boy.

His balls pull up tight to his body, but Bucky cant fucking stop, and he cums in his boxers and all the way to the sheets. Ropes and ropes of his cum shoot out, but he’ll be fucking damned if he leaves your pussy. Every groan leaving him goes straight to your clit, and you’re reeling with pleasure. Men who had twice the experience than Bucky couldn’t give you half the pleasure he has.

He alternates between sucking and licking, watching to see which you like more, bringing his other finger to your entrance, now using two fingers and his mouth, more feral than ever to pleasure you, all the while his hips are still rocking against the bed. “Keep going, just like that, Bucky.” There is no way that Bucky could stop now, not when he hasn’t seen you cum. He’s in his own world at this point, eyes closed, hips still grinding against the bed, listening to the way your pussy is sucking his fingers back in, feeling your thighs shake around him, fucking tasting your slick like it’s water.

Each time he moans into your pussy, he feels your walls clamp down on his fingers. Your hips start to chase his mouth, wanting more. “Bucky, I’m gonna cum! Please don’t stop! Make mommy cum!” Bucky wants you to cum more than anything, he needs it like its air.

He wants to speed up his ministrations, but he knows that’s not what you want. Instead he speeds his hips up, feeling his second orgasm building. His movements are much easier with the surplus of cum that’s already on the bed. Distantly, you hear the bed shaking with the force of his thrusts, but your orgasm is about to hit you and you can’t focus on anything.

His free hand reaches up to grab you, grounding himself, desperate to make you cum before he does. He wants to beg and plead for you to cum but he can’t tear himself away from your cunt. If he could, Bucky would stay between your legs for the rest of his life. He can feel you pulsing around him and he knows you're going to cum soon.

When his eyes find yours it’s over for the both of you. You cum first, crying out his name, thighs clamping around his head, suffocating him. The sight of you cumming has Bucky finishing immediately. You look so fucking gorgeous, slight frown pulling at your lips, lines forming inbetween your eyebrows, it’s heaven on earth for him. His hips spasm and somehow even more cum than before bursts from his tip, making an even bigger mess.

Bucky doesn’t pull away from your pussy, he cant, it’s fucking addictive. He feels your slick running down to his wrist, and the taste of your cum is driving him insane. Only when you push him away does Bucky leave your pussy. “Did I do good, mommy?” He groans when he licks his fingers. Both of you are panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

You pull him up and let him rest his head on your chest. “You did so good for me, I’m so proud of you, honey. You made mommy feel so good.” You feel how he relaxes into your chest, all the while you whisper to him, letting him know how good he was and how much you love him.

After a few minutes, Bucky begins to wiggle around, the cum in his boxers becoming uncomfortable. You have to move him, going to the bathroom and getting a damp cloth to clean him up with. “Honey, can I take your pants off and clean you up?” At his blush you add, “It’s okay, honey, mommy just wants to make you feel better, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

He lets you take his boxers off and you clean him off as gently as you can, trying to avoid the overstimulated tip of his cock. You throw his soiled underwear in the hamper and give him a new pair to put on. Climbing back into bed, Bucky goes straight to your chest, cuddling to you. “Go to bed, honey. Mommy’s right here.” Bucky falls asleep, feeling safe and protected in the arms of his best girl.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky smut #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #sebastian stan x reader

791 notes · View notes

persephonesbody · 4 months

Text

the weekend: part i, elliot x reader

୨୧ the weekend masterlist synopsis: in which he's in a relationship but still has you wrapped around his finger... but only on the weekend warning(s): infidelity/cheating, angst, arguing, lying, implied makeup sex, delusion (reader is just like meeee lmao). author's note: you sayyy youuu got a girllll, how you want me? how you want me when you got a girlll?? let me know if you all would like a part two :) (edited as of 12.30.23) wc: 1.2k

"What's on your mind?" He asked, pulling your head out of your thoughts.

You caught yourself doing that a lot lately. Taking the time to step back and do some hardcore reflecting. It was apparent that the person that you were becoming was beginning to cause conflict in your life.

When you started fooling around with Elliot, it hadn't occurred to you that what you two were doing was wrong. He'd done such a good job at convincing you that your loyalty didn't lie with his girlfriend.

I mean, you two hardly knew each other. All you knew was that he quickly grew fond of the girl two weeks after he transferred to East Highland. About a month after that, they were dating.

But Elliot was a liar. And a good one.

You met him at a party and caught him right in the middle of a personal smoke sesh. He asked you if you wanted to take a hit, and you obliged. Next thing you knew he was tonguing you down in a dimly lit bathroom, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

At that point, you had no clue about his relationship. That night led to steamy rendevous, and soon enough it became frequent. Every weekend, he would hit you up at midnight and then pick you up. What happened after that was unspeakable.

That lasted about a month before you finally found out about her.

You overheard her and Maddy talk about their relationship, and you were vexed, to say the very least. Swearing up and down, when you confront Elliot about his secret relationship, you won't let up and cut him off for good.

You swore but didn't hold yourself to the swear. The minute he began to rest his case, he confided in you about how bored he was with his relationship and how he did like her but felt like he wasn't taking their relationship as seriously as she was.

He promised that he was going to break up with her soon.

A smart person would just call him a liar and leave him alone... right?

Wrong. You fell for his lies and now here you were. Saturday night, tangled in his sheets while he smoked a joint and played tunes off of his guitar.

"You." You responded.

He glanced up from his guitar to look at you, "Me?"

You nodded, your eyes moving from his to the nail you were picking, "You and... her."

You heard a deep sigh escape his lips, "I told you that I'm breaking up with her."

"You tell me a lot of things, Elliot."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Your eyes rolled, staring at his face, "It means that you tell me things that I'm supposed to believe, but I don't. Not anymore."

He's stuck. He's confused. He didn't think that you would bring this conversation up, as it was an unspoken rule between the two of you not to argue over his relationship.

Mostly because he didn't want to account for fiddling with two girls' emotions, all while trying to have his cake and eating it too.

But you were fed up. You wanted Elliot to yourself, and it was eating you up inside knowing that you only were allowed access to him on the weekends.

"Why won't you just break up with her? You say that you're not happy and that you're dissatisfied with your relationship yet you still stay with her. Why?"

The questions were coming up like word vomit. It was as if once you started, you couldn't stop. All the emotions that you had bottled up inside were starting to fizzle out, and you figured that now was the time to address his betrayal.

You didn't even realize that he was now standing up, inching closer to you and your face with his hand. His demeanor was nurturing and confused. It made you wonder what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Y/N, I love you. You know that,” he started, “I just… can’t be with you right now. I like what we’re doing. It’s simple.”

What the fuck?

Simple. That statement alone was enough to make your heart drop.

He caressed your cheek and then placed a soft kiss on it. Then he turns away and heads to the bathroom.

What the fuck?????

All you could utter was “Are you serious?” which you meant to say in your head, but it blurted out with such disgust lacing your tone.

He ignored you and a moment later you heard his pee hit the water in the toilet. You roll your eyes again and inch near the bathroom door, awaiting his departure. The sink runs, assuming that he is washing his hands and then the door opens.

For the life of you, you could not read the expression on his face. You wondered what was going on in his head and why he was treating you this way. You wondered so much to the point where that was the question that you blurted out.

“Treating you like what? I thought I made it clear what this was.” He gestures between the both of you, “We fuck on weekends. I don’t understand why you expected anything else out of me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re the one who proposed the idea of us fucking around. You’re the one who initiated this whole thing and promised me that you were going to break up with her. Don’t try to flip this shit on me.”

He plopped on the edge of his bed and you stood in front of him with your arms folded.

“I’m not flipping anything, sweetheart,” He smirked and chuckled, adding fuel to the fire, “I like it when you get all mad at me,” His hand reached for your hip and he pulled you into his lap, then placed soft kisses along your neck.

You pushed your hands against his chest slightly, “Elliot stop. We’re having a conversation.”

He sighed, dropping his hands, “I’m sorry, it’s just I can’t continue this thing we have going on if we argue all the time. Now do you want to talk about my girlfriend or do what you came over to do…” his voice trailed off as his fingers went back to massaging your sides, then cupping your butt.

He squeezed your cheek softly and stared at you with his low, red eyes and his lip between his teeth, waiting for you to respond, “Hmm? Do you still want to talk?”

Your lips parted, lingering for something to come out, yet nothing did. Instead, he leaned in and sucked on your bottom lip before kissing you deeply.

This is how it went every time. You would ask him about her and he would avoid accountability by trapping you in his seductive web. It was like clockwork. And you always fell for it.

You couldn’t even feel sorry for yourself anymore, because you knew that he was going to continue to lie.

At this point, you were fully aware of what you were getting into with him, and you were starting not to care. And at this point, you were willing to put everything on the line if it meant you still got to have a little piece of him on the weekend.

#elliot x reader #elliot x y/n #elliot x you #euphoria imagines #dominic fike #elliot euphoria #black reader #elliot x black reader #euphoria #dominic fike smut #elliot smut #persephonesbody #the weekend | elliot x reader

303 notes · View notes

97keanu · 10 months

Text

Dave Lizewski x goth!Reader

Premise: Dave sits next to you in History, he's been secretly pining for you for ages, but he's been too scared to ask you out since you're so pretty and your goth exterior is very intimidating for him. To his surprise, he and you are paired up to finish a history assignment this weekend. Truth is, you thought he was cute too...

Tags: 18+ characters/pining!Dave/extremely nerdy and loser!Dave/hard exterior soft interior!reader/reader who despite having a crush on Dave does NOT want to admit it(tsundere!reader)/Mutual pining/mini slow burn into eventual smut/virgin!dave/submissive!Dave + switch!Dave who ends up taking control/reader on top/oral(both parties)/face sitting/edging/no condom/raw/doggy/cuddling/aftercare

A/N: Finalized version 7/8/23, fully edited. I am glad so many of you liked this and I am hoping to return to this couple in the future!

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt

(Ask to be tagged in upcoming one offs of Dave if you'd like!)

Imagines of these two: here and here

Jennifer's Body AU reader x Dave here

UPDATE!!! Read the direct sequel here

It's a normal Friday afternoon and Dave sits, staring out the window and daydreaming about this or that for his last class of the day. Class hasn't started yet, and what pulls Dave out of his daydream is you. You with your all black clothes, black lipstick and dark style. You walk into class as if its nothing, and every time you do Dave feels butterflies fill his stomach. He still can't believe how lucky he was to get sat next to you, even if he's way too intimidated to say anything to you.

You sit down next to him and you keep your face neutral. You know how mean this highschool has been about your style, so these days you hardly give them anything. And after you broke some jocks finger for trying to touch you in the 10th grade, people leave you alone for the most part. To your face at least. You know they probably snicker when you're not looking, but at the very least you can go on autopilot through out the day and go home to where you can really be yourself.

Dave has no idea about this, he thinks you're just the most confident chick in school, and he is in no way in your league, at all. It doesn't stop him from day dreaming about it though. He goes home and thinks about you at night, thinks about what it would feel like to actually ask you out. He's practiced saying it in the mirror a few times even, but when you sit next to him in class it's like he can't even make his voice say "Hello" let alone "Can I take you to the movies this Friday?". What kind of movies would you even like? God, its hopeless. He's doomed to sit next to you pining until senior years up and he never sees you again.

Today you sit next to him as always, headphones blaring The Cure while you ignore the world. You do steal a glance towards the guy who sits next to you in History, and quickly glance away, your dark lashes fluttering. You try not to interact with him because you know if you do, it's going to be obvious you like him. You can't help it, something about the way he's obviously so flustered by you, his big blue eyes gazing at you behind those nerdy glasses, it does something to you. Something the other students would notice and probably pick on the both of you for. Imagine it, the social outcast goth girl and the loser nerdy boy? No way, it's something you're not willing to risk after being bullied from your last school. No, its better to not think about it. Keep your headphones in and look forward, pretend you see nothing.

Your history teacher begins class, so you put away your headphones and get ready to start class. As you put them in your bag, you catch Dave's eyes. He looks like he almost wants to say something to you, and you furrow your thin and arched brows, giving off a "why are you talking to me" energy without even trying to really. It's almost second nature at this point for you, and when you see his cheeks heat up, you feel your heart jump, a mixture of feeling bad for how you come off and a hope for what he might have wanted to say. His hand nervously slides his glasses back up, his big blue eyes blinking away in embarrassment, the words unsaid falling flat in the air and your history teacher gaining the attention of the class.

You turn from Dave, obviously conflicted about what transpired, even if it was brief. It was one of the few times you two interact, but somehow when you sit next to him for this hour long class, it's as if you are interacting. You can almost feel the space between you two, and the times when his foot or your leg gets too close, bumps, barely touches, it's almost electric. It truly makes it hard to focus on class at times, but for the most part if you really fixate on what the teacher is saying, you can get by. From the looks Dave gives you at the end of class usually, he didn't hold up as well for the most part.

"This seating arrangement really was a mistake..." You muse silently to yourself inside your head, a small sigh escaping your lips.

Your teacher begins describing the next history assignment for the weekend, it's supposed to be something about fake "interviewing" someone from the history lessons from so far, or something, you're catching about half of it, but you know they pass out a more detailed paper later.

Meanwhile, Dave is beating himself up for, once again, not being able to ask you out tonight.

"C'mon man, you should have just said it!" He curses himself mentally. "Worst she could say is no right? God...with her, she might actually bite my head off..."

He's practically sweating next to you, his hand nervously tapping the table between you two lightly. Your hand, inches away is trying to take notes on what the assignment is supposed to have because you absorb it better when you actually write it out. As well as an excuse to not focus on Dave's nervous fidgeting beside you.

Dave is biting the inside of his cheek trying to game plan if he can save this, ask you at the end of class, when the teacher says something that makes his stomach drop, but his heart flutter.

"Alright, so that's the basis of the assignment, however, I would like for you to work with your table partner outside of class this weekend and choose which of you will be the interviewer and the interviewee..."

"Holy shit!" Dave could practically jump out of his seat from excitement and fear. This means he doesn't even have to actually ask you out, now you two are forced to spend time together this weekend!

"Holy shit..." You think to yourself. You feel entirely tense, as if you need to run out of the room right this instant, and your cheeks are hot under your makeup. This means you have to spend time, alone, with Dave this weekend. The truth was, you weren't even dreading it because you hate him, even if you try to convince yourself that. No, the truth was...you didn't know if you keep the charade up if you were to spend that sort of time together. Surely, surely...he would notice the crush you had been building for him for the past few months...

The teacher dismisses the class early, letting everyone figure out how they're going to make time this weekend with each other. You could turn to stone, in fact maybe you have because to your surprise it takes Dave's squeaky, unsure voice to call you name to get you out of your trance.

"Yes...Dave?" You turn, almost ridgid, but trying to be neutral, if not kind. Dave is obviously shocked, this might be the most attention he's ever scored from you!

"Well, since we're paired up, I was uh..um..." His doe eyes dart down as he speaks, finding the right words. "I was wondering if you wanted to come to my house after school to work on it?"

You can't believe it, he wants you to come over, now? No way, you can't even hardly bring yourself to move from your seat, let alone find your way over to Dave's house. You find your head giving the smallest, most timid of shakes as you stare at him with disbelief of the situation.

"Oh! Uh yeah no it's totally cool.." Dave senses the rejection and is obviously red faced as he scratches the back of his head, moving those mop of gorgeous dark curls around. "It's so sudden, you probably have big plans for a Friday night, huh?"

The way he's so obviously trying to make this work begins to melt at your icy heart. You shake your head again and immediately Dave is trying to stammer out more, but you finally find your words and work everything out.

"No, that's okay, Dave, I actually, um... I could come to your place around 7pm if that's okay?" Your usually confident self feels a bit wavered as you ask. Dave's eyes shine so brightly you think he may burst, the color in his cheeks different than before.

"Oh, that's totally awesome! I'll give you my address!" He says, with unusually less attempts to speak than normal, he must be really excited about this. You gulp at the thought, and as Dave takes a pen and rips off a piece of notebook paper, you do the same. You write down your number, in case you two need to talk at all between now and then.

You can't help yourself, you put a little black heart next to your number. It's like something has possessed you, you can't even stop yourself. "God...this is just the start..." A part of your subconscious whispers somewhere...

If you thought Dave was over the moon when you agreed to come over tonight, he's downright estactic when he sees you pass over your number.

"This is...for me??" He stares at you, mouth agape, and doesn't even realize what a dumb question that was, but you can't help but find it endearing.

"For if I get lost or something comes up..." You trail off with reasons, but you know you truly just wanted to give him your number despite your reservations. Dave totally thinks the reasons are valid though, he scrambles to put his number on the paper he passed towards you with his address.

"Oh, that makes sense here, lemme just..." His tongue pokes out the corner of his mouth as he scrawls his number. He passes it back to you again, and your cheek heat skyrockets as you see he's also put a heart. He seems pleased with himself and shy about it at the same time, as if this is a secret between the two of you.

You begin packing up after that, and look at him with your lips pursed, unable to reciprocate all he's giving you right now. As you walk away he calls out.

"Alright, see you tonight then!" And you're almost sure the whole class has eyes on your back while you walk quickly from the room, eyes down. You just hope no one decides to dig their grimy fingers into the sliver of hope that this just might work out in the way you're terrified of...

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The sky has started to turn dark, amber meeting violet in wispy clouds above. You're looking about for the address Dave wrote down, but his writing is comparable to chicken scratch. You find the house you think is his, and decide to text the number Dave also wrote extremely poorly underneath the address. You take pause, staring at the heart he returned on the piece of paper, and wonder if you should go through with this. It's not like you can just back out either, both your grades rely on this.

"It's just studying..." You breath out into the chilled brink of nighttime air, and text him you're here.

You are surprised how soon Dave is bounding down the stairs inside before opening the door with a big smile.

"You're here! Awesome, I just got pizza ordered, it's inside!" He does everything but pull you inside, he's so excited.

You feel some of your fears evaporate as you cross the threshold of his house. It's very homey, something your house always lacked. You feel like while its not pristine, it's meant to be lived in, a place where life goes on inside. You can't remember the last time you felt that way about a place, maybe your grandma's house, once upon a time...

Dave ushers you into his kitchen where he's got pizzas and snacks laid out. You can't help but feel like this is turning out more date than study when you see the set up. Your stomach builds with butterflies as you realize he's done all this just for you. You who has ignored him, at times being borderline mean, but of course you would have had to give him the attention he deserved to have truly been mean. That would have been more than you ever had given him by a mile. "Shit..." You think to yourself as you consider the situation.

"Yeah, I figured ya know, you might be hungry and it uh, it t-takes brain power to uh do a study...study date...." He stammers out as he sees your reaction, totally trying to wring out the study from 'study date' the way you do from a wet cloth.

You can't help it, you're flattered despite yourself. No one has ever been this kind to you since you moved to your new school in 9th grade. A part of you is desperate...desperate for this attention, for this connection you so clearly don't deserve. And with a sweetheart like Dave of all people. You feel a lump in your throat, but nod, agreeing with his words. His anxiety seems to have subsided as you do, and he beams a grin at you.

"Yeah! Here lemme grab this," he takes the pizza and a can of soda for each of you with ease. "And we can head up to my room to get started?"

His room. Oh god...

Your legs follow despite everything in you feeling absolutely undeserving of this kindness, your combat boots thunking on the kitchen tiles.

He takes you upstairs to his attic room and you are surprised. As much as it's a teenage boys room, it's also quite clean, and looks really comfortable. He sets you guys up on the bed and pats a place next to him. You settle down next to him, and he flips on a TV across from the bed. You wonder how you went from being here to study, to having pizza and movie.

"I just thought we might like to watch something while we eat..." Dave says in a nervous mutter as he sees your face.

"Okay..." You say, taking a slice of pizza and nibbling a bite. With all the butterflies in there, you don't think your stomach can hold much more than a slice right now. The two of you settle into his bed, munching on slices of pizza and watching some action flick Dave's put on...

After you two are done eating, Dave moves the food stuffs out of the way, and it's just the two of you on the bed. Somehow much more intimate now that there's not a pizza box between you two. You try to focus on the movie, but you can feel Dave glancing at you for much of it.

Dave can't help himself, you just looks so gorgeous, your dark eye make up is so sharp and bold, the thought of you taking control of him, of you pushing him into his bed and using him up keeps running through his thoughts. He even tried to jack off before you came over so he wouldn't be a total horn dog, but here he is, imagining what it would be like to lean over and kiss your black lips. God...he couldn't even ask you out properly, and the only reason you're here is because of the school assignment. There's no way you would be here otherwise. "I'm such a loser..." He thinks to himself, his eyes darting away from your face when you glance over and catch him staring. Instead his eyes land on your hand, laying in between the two of you on the bed, your finger nails black like the rest of your attire.

"Maybe if I could just..." He thinks, imagining himself being bold enough to take your hand, to test the waters to see if something was there. It would be enough that he could see if you have any interest, but wouldn't be as awkward as what he wants to do, which is lean over, take your delicate face in his hands and look you in the eye before kissing you as deeply as he can. Yes, holding hands would go over better than that, he has to tell himself. He feels shaky as one of his hands reaches up to push his glasses back into place, focusing himself to complete the task of holding your hand. The movie plays on...

After what seems like ages of Dave having an internal debate, he raises his hand slowly, deliberately, making a move towards your hand. You seem to be caught in the movie right now, the film is nearing it's climax as you two sit beside each other. If all goes wrong, he'll just pull his hand back and pretend he didn't mean to move it there. "Yeah, like that will work..." The voice in his head chides. It's too late now, he's already practically doing it, his hand hovering over yours before slowly dropping it down, the heat of his hand meeting yours, before softening into a hold.

You let out a small gasp, but don't pull your hand away. Dave is at a loss for words, he doesn't know how to explain it away, he IS holding your hand, and it's clear he doesn't mean it in a friendly way from how red his cheeks get. All you can do is stare at him right now, it's like time passes by in molasses, sticky and sweet. You can't believe it, he's really making a move on you...

What surprises you more is the fact that when your body catches up to your brain, you're moving towards him with fervor. Your other hand comes to the side of his face and you're crushing your lips against his. The movie is forgotten, as well as your inhibitions. Your lips tingle when they meet his, and you can't help yourself, somehow his small innocent touch has caused the dam you built inside yourself to stay away from him to collapse. You're working your lips into his like he's the air you breathe, and Dave is so caught off guard he's letting you, moving along with you as his guide.

"Oh my god, she's kissing me...I'm kissing a girl!" Dave thinks to himself, totally blown away, his eyes wide at first before melting into your kiss, his glasses only sort of getting in the way.

"God...I can't help it...he's so nerdy and sweet, I need to know what his body is like..." You think to yourself, your hands moving wildly into his mess of curly hair, gripping and tugging him into your kiss.

It's the type of kiss that almost hurts its so wanted.

You find yourself pulling away for a moment to catch your breath, and you see your black lipstick smudged both on Dave's pouty, plump from being kissed lips, as well as your own from the reflection of his glasses. You look as if you've totally given in, your eyes filled with a desire you've never seen before. You look back into Dave's vibrant blue eyes and see he's completely at your will.

"P-please...don't stop..." He whispers, those eyes of his pleading for you to continue. God, you want to fuck his brains out right here, and at this rate you think you will.

What surprises you next is Dave taking a bit of control, his own hands wrapping around your waist and bringing you on top of him, his hands grabbing into your gothic hair style, and your lips colliding once again as Dave let's out a whimper into your kiss. You can't help but moan back, the sound a dull vibration between your lips. Dave kisses sloppily, he wants you so bad and he's never kissed a girl before, that much is clear. You bite his lower lip to slow him down and take control, his body jumping from the bite, and where your legs straddle him you can feel his hardness against you as he bucks. God, he's like putty in your hands.

Dave can hardly contain himself, his hands roam your body freely, at some point one of his hands finds it's way under your skirt, gripping your hips and running along your stomach. He doesn't want to go too north or south without your permission, scared to run you and the pleasure you're giving him off. You can tell, and moan in a way that signals your frustration, before releasing your hands from where they're knotted in his curls and grabbing his wrists. You guide his hands underneath your shirt and sit up on him, letting him explore your breasts over your bra as you slip your shirt off and quickly discard it on his floor. As you look down, Dave's eyes are wider than ever, totally encapsulated by your body, his mouth hanging open and stained with your dark lipstick.

"God...you're so sexy..." He mumbles, not even sure what he's saying, just that he's in total awe of you. He's wanted this for so long he feels like he's accidently just convinced himself that you're really here, really doing this. It's as if you're a dream come to life instead of actually straddling him on his bed.

You reach back and undo your bra, the straps sliding down slowly before you pull your bra over your head, your breasts falling out. Dave doesn't need to be told to grab them, he's getting the hang of this. He feels the softness of your chest before exploring your nipples playfully. You smirk down at him as your hips ride him fully clothed.

"Would you like to taste them...?" You say slyly, almost savoring his reaction, knowing how excited he is. All he can do is nod eagerly and say 'Please'. You lean down and let Dave cup your breasts, pulling one of them to his mouth and sucking hungrily. He has dreamed of this moment, thought of it before bed with his cock in his left hand. He never thought he would actually be here, playing with your nipples in his mouth, switching sides so your other breast doesn't feel lonely.

You continue to grind against him, his already hard cock feeling as if he will cum just from you dry humping him. You can feel it twitching, aching to be released from his pants. You slide down his body, his mouth popping off your breast with a soft pop! before he gives out a whine that he wanted more. He looks down at you as you reach his pants, and playfully stare up at him with your devilish, make up smeared smile. Somehow knowing he's messed up your perfect goth make up is turning him on. He even finds himself imagining if he could ruin it more by cumming on your pretty little face. He wonders if you would ever let him and groans as you begin pulling his pants down and letting his cock free.

You're surprised not for the first time tonight, and not for the last. Dave's cock is huge! You had no idea this little nerd was packing so much heat, it's way longer and girthier than any cock you've seen up until now, and even putting your black manicured hand around it is making your hands look so small in comparison. Dave seems almost shy about his cock, he shifts nervously as you gaze at it, mouth slightly agape at his size, and Dave wonders if you don't like it.

"Is it...okay?" He finally squeaks out from nerves, and your eyes dart back up to his, dragging out of the trance the sight of his cock put you in. You begin to stroke him and nod.

"More than okay..." You say as you feel your cheeks heat up, your mouth watering just thinking about sucking him off. You hear Dave whimper out from your touch, his back arching into you, his hips bucking for more already. He feels so sensitive, as if your touch is too much.

"Please be careful...I don't know how long I can last..." He warns you, and the idea that you get to edge him until you want him to cum has your legs clenching from the wetness unraveling there. You can't believe how your body reacts to his, it's as if every little thing he does has your stomach coiled and shivers running up and down your body. You look him in the eyes as you place your mouth over the tip of his thick cock.

He closes his eyes in pleasure just from that, and you pause. You know you'll be doing a lot of stopping and starting, going so slow, just to keep him from blowing his load early. Dave is glad once again that he has already cum a few times today, if not he would have definitely came from you dry humping him earlier. He moves a hand to your hair, holding and petting you as you begin to go deeper, bobbing up and down in a rhythm that keeps him on his toes. He can't believe how hot and wet your mouth is, and you leave black rings on his cock as you go.

You suck his cock with purpose, finding out what gets him going very easily, and putting a stop to it before he goes too far. He's a whining mess, breathing hard and husky, his voice coming out in a quiver as he speaks your name, begging you. When you think he's had as much as he can take right now, your lips satisfyingly pop off his cock, and you look him in the eyes, his cock beside your sweet face.

"Now that I've tasted you Dave...I think it's your turn to taste me..." Dave's eyes are heavy with want, but they widen as he realizes what you're getting at. Truly, you can't even believe you're so eager for him, but you've fought it for so long you can't anymore. You know what you want in this instance, and your body isn't letting your brain ruin this for you. You take off your bottoms, leaving you naked before him, his eyes grazing your body with need.

You put your knees on either side of his face, and Dave looks up at you with those gorgeous blue eyes as he stares up from under your pussy.. You worried a bit if he would shy away from it, some men can be afraid of eating women out, especially their first time doing it. But Dave has literally imagined over and over what it would be like to have you sit on his face and to eat you up like his life depended on it. And he does just that.

Without having to give him any pointers, he grabs your hips and presses your pussy onto his face, his tongue going to town right away. He begins with your clit first, sucking the whole thing right away, and you actually have to cry out, your thighs almost crushing his head.

"Sensitive! Wait!" Is all you can say, and Dave seems to get the memo, beginning to swirl his tongue around your clit, playing with it before lightly lapping at it, sometimes with his tongue pointed, others with it flat and tasting all of you. Dave is grateful he ever cared to look up online how to do this properly, even though at the time he never thought he would ever get to use this knowledge.

You're surprised when he even begins to tongue your wet hole, playing with you there before dragging his tongue back up to play with your clit. He isn't perfect at it for his first time, and you likely won't cum from just this, but god does his tongue feel good down there. Dave is definitely not embarrassing himself in this catergory. He even presses your hips, pushing your pussy further on his face, practically suffocating under you from time to time, before releasing himself, his hot breath tickling your pussy. He looks up at you every so often with such a submissive look you can barely believe it. He loves being beneath you, you taking from him just how you like it. His cock is still hard and twitching, you reach back just to give it a feel and you can tell his cock has calmed enough you could probably get on top without him spilling in you right away.

"I want you inside me, Dave..." You whisper down at him, as you pull your pussy off him and he opens his eyes, completely drunk off your pussy, your wetness glistening on his lips.

"Anything you want..." He replies, his eyelids heavy and pleased with everything so far. He wants to make sure you're satisfied.

"In that case, I'm going to cum on your cock Dave...I need you to hold out til I'm finished..." You're voice is so soft, but commanding at the same time, which Dave is crazy for. You can see he's nervous about it still, worried he will disappoint and cum too early, but he nods with determination.

You move down, and position yourself over his red, hard cock. You look him in the eyes as you slowly lower yourself, his tip gliding in, stretching you out already.

"Fuck...." You moan out, your eyes closing as you take him inch by inch. He is completely enamored, watching you closely, and so confused as to how someone as hot and intimidating as you is fucking herself on his cock. You bite your messy lip as you find yourself struggling to fit him all, he makes you feel so full. When you finally do, you let yourself sit there for a moment and take it all in, enjoying the feeling of being so completely filled.

"God, Dave...your cock is so big..." You murmur out and Dave can't believe you think his cock is big, he never realized that, he knew it wasn't small but somehow he had convinced himself he wasn't that big either.

Eventually, you begin rocking your hips, moving up and down as you both gasp from pleasure. You use your hands to steady yourself on his chest while your other hand begins to touch your sensitive clit, working it until it feels amazing, heat flooding you.

Dave holds onto your hips and helps you move on him, sometimes going slower to stop himself. He wants to fill you up so badly it hurts, his stomach and muscles are so tight, his arm muscles clenching and showing themselves as his big hands guide your hips. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer by the minute.

"Dave, you're going to make me cum..." You whisper out as you begin to feel it. Dave looks at you with worry, and asks you something you forgot to talk about before getting wrapped up on the heat of the moment.

"If you cum, I'm going to cum...do we need a condom?" He says, his brows furrowed. You thank god you are on reliable birth control right now.

"It's okay, I have birth control, go crazy..." You say off handedly, not expecting much change in reaction.

Somehow, hearing you tell him to 'go crazy' starts something in him. He almost hesitates, but there's something he really wants to try. You can tell by the look on his face that he is planning something, and with a slight nod you silently tell him to go for it.

Dave quickly lips you off his cock and effortlessly tosses you onto the bed face first. You gasp out, the power dynamic shifting in that moment. You didn't know he was that strong...

He grabs your hips and ass and pulls them into his cock, easily slipping back inside your wet folds and pushing himself so deep you had no idea he could even do that. You moan out his name and grip the pillows beneath you, suddenly feeling like the submissive one now.

"Fuck, Dave..." You breath out and shudder as he fucks you so deeply you can hardly breath right. "I didn't know you could be this...dominant..."

Dave almost chuckles at your comment, but he agrees silently. Something about you letting him fuck you like this has emboldened him, he grips you harder, playing with your ass as he goes. Squishing and squeezing it, enjoying the feel of it in his hands.

You move so one of your hands can be under you, fumbling for your wet clit once again. You moan out Dave's name loudly as he fucks you deeply, your ass bouncing against his thighs with satisfying slaps. Dave can feel you clenching as you get closer, and it's so hard for him to contain himself. He wants to spill inside you so badly, his face scrunches up from the thought, he has to bite his lip to think of something else, even if it's the pain of biting.

"Please...I can't hold on much longer..." He says between heavy breaths and calling your name.

You focus, finding the sweet spot and so lost in his cock fucking you that suddenly your legs are locking up as your pussy clamps down on his cock, your climax spilling over the edge as you moan Dave's name. Dave pounds you harder as you do this, needing to to keep up as you clench around him so tightly it makes it hard to fuck you. Almost as soon as you reach your peak, Dave is thrusting his final thrusts into you, his cum welling up and shooting off inside of you, making a total mess of your pussy. You cry out as he does this and Dave groans loudly, his body shaking and his cock twitching as it finishes releasing.

When he's done, he stays there for a moment before carefully pulling out, his cum dripping onto the bed, and the tip of his cock so sensitive he has to rush to pull the end out so it doesn't hurt.

Dave doesn't even care anymore about being shy with you, he pulls you onto him and snuggles onto your hair, taking deep breaths.

"That was amazing...I can't believe you let me do that..." He whispers into your hair, he could almost cry from how emotional and raw he feels right now, but he holds it back as best he can, not wanting to cry during sex even though you wouldn't have held it against him anyways.

He holds you for a long time, and during that time you can't even speak, the afterglow of your breath and sweaty bodies speaking for itself. You never wanted to let Dave in, and now here you are, full of his cum and sore from his cock, while you lay naked in his bed, cuddling. You end up blocking out any negative thoughts, and realize that it was so worth it. You move and snuggle into his neck, petting his chest, and musing lightly into his skin.

"I'm glad I came over, Dave..." You end up saying, because that's how you feel about all of this. Dave pets your hair and laughs lightly.

"I'm glad you came over too..."

There's no way that history project is getting done tonight.

#dave lizewski x reader #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x goth!reader #my writing #dave lizewski fanfic #kick ass fanfic #kick ass #Spotify #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader

798 notes · View notes

cerridwen007 · 10 months

Text

She.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader.

Word count: 1.2k (18+) MINORS DNI!

Summary: Originally going past your apartment to check up on you after his shift, Javier finds himself engrossed by you as you masterbate on your bed. He begins questioning if it's really worth it trying to distance himself from you.

Inspired by the song She by Tyler, The Creator and Frank Ocean.

Warnings/notes: SMUT with a touch of angst, pining, mutual masterbation, voyeurism, swearing, no use of y/n, bad Spanish.

A/N: Hi yall, I'm trying to get back into posting at least once a week, but I'm not going to make any promises cause knowing me that won't very last long. Also, let me know if you like this cause I have planned for this to be a 3+ part series, and I've nearly finished editing part 2 and have started writing part 3. Hope you enjoy and likes, comments, and reposts are very much appreciated.

Part two: Her. Part three: The Two of Us.

********

"Fuck, your a goddamn creep Javi." He whispered to himself.

Yet he didn't stop watching you. He had come to check up on you after his shift ended but as he parked his car out the front of your apartment, he saw the lights were on and he watched your naked silhouette fresh from the shower, prance around your apartment.

He watched you walk to your bedroom and plop yourself down on the bed. He gulped, having an idea of what you were going to do next, angry at himself that he couldn't pry his eyes away.

You had just gotten out of the shower, a much needed clean after the hot, sweaty summer day in Bogota. You didn't bother to get dressed in the comfort of your own apartment, still feeling warm from the heat that Bogota provided, even at night.

You thought about Javi and bit your lip as you walked to your bedroom, sitting on your bed adjacent to the sliding door that opened onto your patio. You and him had recently decided to put a pause on your fuckbuddy turned situationship. You had admitted your feelings for Javier one night but knew he wasn't likely to reciprocate.

What you didn't know is that he did. He felt the same way for you as you felt about him. But with his work schedule, commitment issues, and feelings of being unworthy of you and your love. He denied his reciprocating feelings, telling himself that it's better for you if he distances himself.

You swallowed your pain and agreed to stop seeing each other for anything physical, at least for the time being. Both of you were finding it super hard. Craving each other not only physically but also the comforting general presence of one another as well.

You breathed shakily as your hands carefully roamed up and down your thighs. You parted them open just enough that you could place your hand between them. You threw you head back as you circled your clit. A soft moan escaping your lips.

You wished like hell that it was Javi's hand pleasing you, making you feel good, but it wasn't. And as much as you tried, you or anyone else for that matter has never nor probably will make you feel good as Javier consistently did. Netherless, you continued teasing your hot, wet, middle.

"Fuck Hermosa." Javier whispered to himself. He was watching you touch yourself in the comfort of your own home through your sliding door and sheer curtains, which did hardly anything at covering your naked body from his desire filled eyes.

He took a deep breath as he watched your scrunched face, trying to breath in the scent of your arousal as if he was in your room himself, his owns hand the cause of your pleasure stricken face like he had done many times before.

No matter how many times he saw your naked body, or watched your eyes squint from pleasure, or tasted your sweet taste on his tongue, he never got sick of it.

Infact since you and him both agreed to pause your hookups, he had found himself craving you more aggressively, palming himself under his desk at work for some relief as thoughts of your pretty tits bouncing up and down as you rode him, stained his mind. He even had nearly been caught a few times jacking off in the bathroom or the file room, needing to relieve some tension that thoughts of you caused.

But this time his cock seemed to ache and strain even harder against his jeans watching you. Watching you masturbate was the closest thing to touching you himself he had gotten in the last few weeks.

Feeling your pussy grow wetter from your fingers stimulation, you gather your slick with your middle and ring finger and pushed them into your pulsing hole.

"Fuck....oh God." You moaned out quietly.

Your fingers curl inside you wet, hot, cunt. Lacking the length and thickness like Javi's fingers had to reach that spot that had you seeing stars, gasping out loudly. You groan softly and try arching your back and bucking your hips into your fingers to go deeper with little progress.

"Goddamn cariño, that's right fuck yourself on your fingers.....I bet you wish they were mine."

His heart was racing, his breath fast and shallow as he watched you try your best to satisfy yourself. The crossing of his morals of watching you in the privacy of your own home were long forgotten as he found himself transfixed on your body, the body he so dearly wished to spend hours kissing from top to bottom, pleasing every night, coaxing orgasms out of until you were fully spent.

His erection was painfully throbbing in his jeans, his hands reaching down to palm himself, his eyes never leaving your beautiful curves, seemingly laid out like a buffet for him yet far away enough that he couldn't engulf himself in.

You fight back loud whimpers and moans as you bring your other hand down to rub your clit as you pump your fingers in and out of your cunt.

"Javi.....yes Javi..." You moan quietly.

He can see that you're getting close, by the way your legs are shaking and your eyes are squeezed shut as your mouth hangs open. He reaches down to unbutton and unzips his jeans and pulls out his length. He feels his heartbeat racing in his head, chest and cock.

Javi begins stroking his his hard length, groaning loudly. He is pent up, and as he rubs his sensitive tip, he can tell he is already close and he wants to cum with you. He pumps himself furiously as his eyes are locked on your trembling body, your hands furiously working to bring you to your high.

"Fuck Javi...yes!" You cry out as you bring your self to your high. You legs shake and buck up uncontrollably as you slowly rub your clit, working yourself through your high.

He can't hear you cry out his name as you cum but he sure as hell imagines you are as he pumps his cock till he too cums all over his steering wheel. You both leans back and close your eyes panting as you recover from your highs, you mind's both thinking of the other, so close to each other yet so far away.

As he catches his breath, he looks down at his mess and wipes the forearm of his shirt over the steering wheel to clean it before realizing he should probably head home now. Guilt clouds his mind as he gives one last look at you, lying in your bed, smiling happily in your post-orgasm bliss. He smiles softly before turning on his car and driving away quickly.

You exhale deeply and turn on your side to face your sliding door, seeing the empty street. You sigh, wishing that you could cuddle in bed with Javier, like you always did after sex with him. Resting your head on his chest, your fingers and legs entagled with one another as you fall asleep.

Instead you get up to turn off your bedroom light and tuck yourself into bed, a solemn look on your face as you rest your head on the pillow, a single tear slips found your cheek as you try and push away the thoughts of Javier and how much you miss him.

As Javier drives home he thinks about you. He doesn't know how much longer he will be able to keep himself away from you but he knows that sooner or later he would end up letting himself succum to you again.

*******

#narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #smut #pedro pascal characters #fanfic #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal

247 notes · View notes

bizaar · 11 months

Text

Cruel Summer - Part 11

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 8k

warnings: swearing, some angst (as always) discussions of closeted queer folk (just in case) probably a lot more - will go back in and edit as needed!

A.N.: I'm back, Chat! After a million years and some change, I really hope you like this chapter even though to me it feels a tad like filler, so sorry it took so long to get back into the swing of things!! - Also, my taglist is broken, so if you would like to be put on it for the chapters going forward, please let me know!

To call the last few days a blur would be an understatement, more so considering how everything that had happened over the course of the last few hours could have filled the duration of those days themselves.

And everything happened so fast, events falling into place one after the other in such quick succession that Dustin has barely had time to process all the steps he’d taken down the road since he and Max first left his house in search of Eddie – in search of you.

Presently, he’s stuck trying to rationalize just how he’d come to find himself sitting huddled on the Wheeler’s sofa, stuffed in between Max and Lucas under the tense scrutiny of the Hawkins PD and the worried coterie of their parents.

Though perhaps “how” is not the question, but why, considering he knows exactly how it happened: they found Eddie, then they lost him, and after a very tense few hours, subsequently found him again, camped out with you at Skull Rock, looking very much like you’d been to hell and back.

From there their road circled back to Lover’s Lake, and now here they find themselves, in police custody with half of their party lost to the gate beneath the water.

It’s the closest thing Dustin can imagine to a worst-case scenario.

That’s not true, he tells himself, Eddie’s still in the clear, so it’s not all bad… not yet…

Still, it’s beyond bizarre to be sitting and getting lectured on the Wheeler’s sofa with Mike so far removed all the way in California.

Karen is nice, sure, and Ted is … well, Ted is Ted, hardly intimidating, but something about being under the direct scrutiny of the Wheelers and the Sinclairs and his mother and the Hawkins PD, all of whom he is actively lying to, has Dustin sinking further and further into the plush cushions in the hopes of somehow shrinking out of existence.

How badly he wishes he was anywhere but here.

It’s not that he’s intimidated or anything so foolish, particularly by the bespectacled likes of Officer Callahan, only that Dustin is painfully aware of how this looks, their merry band of misfits camped out at the water’s edge directly opposite an active crime scene with binoculars in hand. Worse still, he’s painfully aware of how it sounds.

“What were you kids doing out at the lake?” Callahan asks.

It’s as good a question as any, but it leaves the lot of them reeling with just exactly how to answer it.

What are they supposed to tell them, the truth? That they were busy sending half their party through an interdimensional gate at the bottom of the lake to the Upsidedown?

No.

Under absolutely no circumstances will he be telling them the truth, not unless he wants to see the inside of a padded cell.

He could have told Hopper the truth (or at least some summarized version of it), but Hopper isn’t here, so Dustin and his friends open their mouths and all begin to speak at once as they fumble for some sort of credible answer as to what they were doing out at the lake.

“Swimming—” Dustin says immediately.

Max shrugs her shoulders and offers what would have been the most practical answer…

“Nothing—”

… if not for what came tumbling out of Lucas’s mouth.

“Taking a long romantic walk under the moonlight?” He squeaks, voice lilting an octave higher as his sentence comes to a close, making the statement sound much more like a question than anything else.

The silence in the room is deafening, and Dustin suppresses a wince, fully aware of just how well and truly cooked their collective gooses are as he exchanges a horrified glance with you, sitting in a plush chair opposite the couch, wide-eyed and gaping at him from the other side of the room.

It’s a wonder you’re even here, considering Dustin had been sure that you’d go right along with the others, but in a stunning turn of events, you’d elected to stay behind.

It was because, as you said; “I’m the babysitter, it’s literally my job…” – Dustin had been decidedly pleased about that, in stark contrast to Eddie, who had just about capsized the boat right there on the shore trying to reach for your hand.

“Don’t be silly,” He’s insisted, despite how unbelievably practical you were being. “There’s plenty of room,” There was not, as had been evidenced by Dustin’s own rejected application to join the expedition. “– come on,”

But there was no arguing with you, as was always the case when your mind was made up. For as many reasons as Eddie could drum up for you to go, you had just as many reasons to stay, the least of those being that you were injured.

“I’ll only slow you down,” You’d assured him with a slow shake of your head, “It’s gonna be fine, we’ll be waiting right here when you get back.”

It’s yet another thing that is driving Dustin to the very edge of anxiety-induced nausea: they won’t be there waiting on the shore when the others get back … if they get back.

The adults are still gawping at their little group, eyes wide as dinner plates in patent disbelief of their swimming–nothing–romantic moonlit walk at the lake.

“It was kind of, sort of a … field trip scenario…” Dustin says, gesturing flippantly as he fumbles through the poor excuse for an explanation.

“To the lake…” Callahan deadpans.

“Yeah…”

“In the middle of the night…”

It’s less a question than an accusation.

Dustin resists the urge to correct the deputy, considering it’s hardly the middle of the night, and he nods, swallowing hard against the cotton blooming in his throat.

“...I mean, it’s Spring Break.” he croaks, “...No school…”

“Dusty…” His mother presses, “Somebody was just murdered there!”

It sets his teeth on edge.

“We didn’t know that at the time.” He insists, well aware of just how lame this all sounds.

Desperate to claw back some shred of credibility, he elbows Lucas in the ribs. It startles the boy to attention and his head snaps around to regard Dustin with an incredulous look, as if to ask what the hell am I supposed to say?

Max takes the hint for him.

“What’s the big deal?” She starts, “So, we were down at the lake — it’s called healing your inner child, look it up.”

On the other end of the couch, Dustin is vaguely aware of hearing you breathe out harshly, muttering something that sounds very much like “Oh, boy…”

Before he can stop this snowball from rolling, Lucas is nodding emphatically, suddenly very eager to add his two cents to the notion.

“Right, w-we were just trying to …” he trails off, swallowing hard as the rest of his sentence escapes him, and then, “… yeah, like Max said… do that.”

If Dustin thought the first silence was deep, this one is a yawning chasm of infinite depth. They’re great at this, actually, not at all amateurish.

“Right…” Powell says slowly, “...and this has absolutely nothing to do with Eddie Munson?”

Once again, they’re all speaking simultaneously, shaking their heads, gesticulating, and doing anything in their power to make themselves even remotely believable.

No really, they’re doing great.

“No, not at all.”

“Of course not.”

And then, because this is already going so well, Dustin opens his big mouth.

“That weirdo?” He scoffs, refusing to refer to Eddie by any harsher language, and cringing at the way his voice breaks on the word, “We don’t even know the guy.”

Erica Sinclair erupts into a bark of incredulous laughter from her position in the far corner of the room, and Dustin realizes his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth.

Erica… how could he have forgotten about Erica, who very recently had been caught up in the brief euphoria of reading from the Good Book of Eddie Munson.

Erica, who has just caught Dustin in what is perhaps the most blatant lie he has ever told and is trying her damnedest to strike him dead with the daggers she’s hurling in his direction from the other side of the room.

Oh, whoops… it’s the understatement of the century.

“You know they’re lying, right?” She snarls, “The whole couch is on fire.”

Her mother is quick to silence her with a harsh utterance of her name.

Dustin can’t help but feel a sharp stab of betrayal as he gawps at the younger Sinclair.

He’d thought, perhaps foolishly, that their triumphant victory against Vecna during the last Hellfire meeting would be some kind of a turning point for their friendship.

He kicks himself for being so naive and sinks a little further into the couch, pouting as she sneers back at him.

To make matters worse, the police are clearly not buying what they’re attempting to sell. Chief Powell and Officer Callahan exchange wary looks before, slowly, their gazes slide across the couch and over to you.

You begin to fidget under their collective scrutiny, doing your utmost to look anywhere in the room besides directly at the officers.

It’s only when Powell addresses you with the firm and formal usage of Miss followed by your last name that you finally look at him.

It takes him what feels like a very long time to speak.

“Care to chime in?” He finally asks, gesturing to the absolutely bafoonery of the couch.

You glance at Dustin, and he feels a stab of anxiety lance through his midsection as he fails to decipher the unreadable look splashed across your face.

Your attention snaps back over to the police when Powell repeats his overly formal addressing of you, the well of his patience growing ever shallower.

You pull an innocent face and gesture dumbly to yourself.

“Me?” You chirp, like you can’t imagine how they could possibly think you’re involved in this.

You? No, surely not you, who had pulled Dustin and the rest into a quick huddle and quietly instructed them on how best to lie to the cops when they’d found themselves ambushed at the lake.

Dustin had been caught somewhere halfway between impressed and appalled, but he’d stopped himself before the question could even take root in his mind: how do you know anything about lying to the cops?

Eddie. Naturally.

Officer Callahan doesn’t seem to have the same patience as his direct superior for your act. He heaves an overdramatic sigh and rolls his eyes behind his glasses.

“No,” he scoffs, “The other delinquent in the room.”

The mask of innocence slips immediately from your face as you level the man with a hateful look.

“Oh, sure.” You snap, “Because name-calling is the best way to ensure cooperation — real mature, Phil…”

“Wha— how did you—?” Callahan splutters indignantly before clamping his mouth shut and setting his jaw.

Strangely, Chief Powell coughs harshly into a closed fist, and Dustin only realizes that the man is masking a chuckle when his deputy levels him with a dour look.

After a moment to collect himself, Callahan returns to you and shrugs.

“Okay, fine – why don’t we put you in a pair of handcuffs and take you down to the station, see if that makes you feel any more cooperative.”

You blanch at the prospect and Dustin’s heart seizes in his chest in outrage. Before he can leap to your defense, however, the Sinclairs and Wheelers alike erupt into loud protests of the notion.

The collective vitriol of the adults is enough to cause Callahan to balk and suddenly he’s standing a little less tall.

“Oh, really, Officer!” Dustin’s mother tuts, “There’s no need for that — I’m sure whatever it was they were doing was completely innocent,”

He’s not entirely certain how sure she is of that, but evidently enough that she’s managed to overcome the horror she’d previously been experiencing at the thought of them going down to the lake where someone was just murdered.

Still, considering you’re more or less an honorary member of the Henderson household, she goes on to paint a shining picture of you, insisting that you are a good girl – responsible.

The others respond with varying degrees of enthusiastic agreement and Dustin’s chest swells with warm, golden pride.

Damn right.

While you were only ever officially his babysitter, it never stopped the Sinclairs from asking you to carpool Lucas and Erica to and from school twice a week, or Karen Wheeler from enlisting you to look after Holly when she had the odd errand to run – though perhaps more specifically, covering for her last summer and remaining the soul of discretion when a momentary slip in judgment regarding a certain public pool lifeguard had seen her very nearly destroying her marriage and perhaps by greater extension her family as a whole.

Karen Wheeler would have defended you like one of her own children if it came down to it, as is evidenced by the way she comes flying to your rescue.

“She’s their babysitter, for God’s sake.” She scoffs, gesturing toward you in a way that makes the chunky bracelets sitting on her slender wrists clack loudly together, “She takes the boys to the arcade and plays that …fantasy game with them – I mean, really… what kind of trouble could they possibly be getting into?”

Unfortunately, as Dustin realizes too late, the Hawkins PD happens to know exactly what kind of trouble you could be getting into, and they are all too happy to share.

“Listen, folks…” Chief Powell sighs, taking the floor and rubbing a tired hand over his face, “I’m sure you mean well, but I’m afraid that your word just isn’t enough – the fact of the matter is that your babysitter has been caught trespassing at two active crime scenes in about as many days.”

Callahan is quick to chime in.

“Not to mention she’s a known associate of Eddie Munson.”

Dustin bristles. He’d been waiting for that shoe to drop, and now that it has, he feels a thin sheet of ice beginning to form across his stomach lining.

A sticky silence falls heavily over the room as the adults all exchange bewildered looks. Not even Karen knows what to do with that reveal.

“What does that mean?” Charles Sinclair demands, brows furrowed tightly as he turns a hard eye on Lucas, as if his son somehow held the answer.

He freezes like a deer in headlights, but Erica is more than happy to explain, pushing forward to stand in front of her father and remind everyone that she is still there, hands propped up on her hips as she levels you with a particularly snotty look.

“It means he’s her boyfriend.” She drawls, peering back at the denizens of the couch and looking entirely too pleased with herself.

Dustin’s heart seizes with terror.

How the hell does she know that?

“Shut up, Erica!” Lucas hisses.

She reels on him.

“You shut up!” she snaps, and her mother quickly admonishes her for it.

“Erica!” She hisses.

“What? It’s true – I used to see them at the mall all the time, swapping spit, sticking their tongues down each other’s throats… you know, making out?” She makes a show of visibly shuddering before twisting to address you, sitting mortified with your hands fisted in your hair and your face flushed crimson, “You guys are super nasty, by the way…”

“Er-i-ca!” Her mother warns her sharply.

She puts up her hands defensively and retreats a step.

“It’s just the facts!”

Still, the sentiment causes a nervous murmur to pass through the adults… you and Eddie Munson?

Apparently, your dating habits had been as shrouded in mystery to them as it had been to Dustin, and unfortunately, they are less likely to be as forgiving about it.

His mother’s voice quavers as she turns to you and quietly says your name. He watches as, in spite of yourself, you shrink back a little further into the cushions as if you yourself had been hoping that information would not come to light.

“Is that true?” She squeaks.

You don’t answer right away, but to your credit, when you do you try to laugh it off.

“Which part?” You scoff, “The dating thing or that incredibly vivid description Erica just painted for us?”

The attempt at humor falls short on the adults, and in the silence that follows, Dustin can’t help but feel a little angry at how ridiculous this all is.

True, the descriptors were a bit much, Dustin doesn’t need to be picturing that any more than he already had been, but they’re all acting like she’d placed you at the scene as an accomplice to the murders, like you and Eddie are some kind of modern teenaged versions of Bonnie and Clyde, which is ridiculous – Eddie wouldn’t harm a fly, and if anything the truth bomb Erica just set off in the middle of the room means you’re the one who can personally vouch for that.

It would be a pointless endeavor, of course, they’re only going off of what they know of Eddie’s reputation, one that is currently telling them that he is a cold-blooded killer going on a rampage through the Hawkins High School student body…

Dustin feels himself begin to sweat.

Suddenly everyone is holding their breath to see how you will react, and how everyone else will if the truth comes out.

“...Technically we broke up…” you mumble sheepishly, tugging a the hem of your worn t-shirt.

The room erupts in a cacophony of noise.

All at once, the Wheelers and the Sinclairs find themselves split down the middle over whether they find that information credible, waffling between thrusting accusatory fingers at you, at the police, at the couch, and every direction in between.

Ted Wheeler and Charles Sinclair demand to know if they’re lying to the police and what kind of trouble you’re getting their kids involved in, and their wives insist on returning to the rescue of your character, assuring the men that this is all a huge misunderstanding and that you would never dream of putting their children in danger.

Boy, if they only knew the truth.

Dustin’s mother begins to weep, wailing about the state of her poor nerves, all the while you sink further and further into the cushions and do your best to become invisible.

It’s a madhouse.

Dustin wishes, not for the first time, that he was back on the shore of the lake, and silently hopes Eddie and the others are having a better time than they are.

Wherever they are, he hopes they are okay.

+++

Eddie is absolutely positively not okay. He can’t speak for the others, who all seem to be doing a much better job at handling the whole “crossing through a portal into another dimension” thing.

They’re calling it the Upsidedown like it’s the next town over, like they simply hopped in the car and drove down the interstate to arrive in this bizarro version of Hawkins with monsters and nasty shit.

They’ve apparently been through this before, so Nancy says, and Eddie can’t even begin to wrap his head around what that could possibly mean.

That they’ve swum to the bottom of the lake where someone has just been psychically murdered and passed through to another dimension only to narrowly avoid being eaten alive by a swarm of demonic bats? Somehow he highly doubts it’s that specific, though only because he’s having a very hard time coming to terms with the fact that basically, everything he thought he ever knew about Hawkins is complete and utter bullshit.

Eddie supposes he always knew Hawkins was one of those places, the cliche of the happy little midwestern town pretending everything is nice and shining and wholesome meanwhile grandma’s skeleton is rotting in the hall closet. He’d always assumed there was something going on just beneath the shining veneer, just not on the level of “a literal hell realm existing right beneath his feet”.

Nancy is maddeningly calm about all this as if she didn’t just go diving into the pitch black of the unknown to rescue Steve, or rip off the bottom panel of her blouse and tie a tourniquet around his midsection to keep his guts from spilling out.

Harrington himself is taking the whole “almost being eaten alive” thing in stride in a really frustrating way, already walking and talking like someone died and made him king of the goddamn Upsidedown.

In fact, the only one who seems even remotely in the realm of appropriately manic about this whole thing is Robin, talking a mile a minute about rabies and the logistics of bat bites in the Upsidedown, but as far as Eddie knows, Robin is just like that.

Naturally manic, naturally caffeinated, probably on some kind of prescription drug like Ritalin if he had to guess… not that he’d hold any of that against her, Robin’s cooler than most.

They’d had intermediate band together one semester before he realized he’d actually be expected to wear that stupid uniform and dropped out.

They’d even been somewhere halfway to friends during that brief period of time, though that “friendship” could be summed up to nothing more than the casual snide, sarcastic remarks during class, a joke here and there, and one instance of Robin getting way too high on half a joint they’d smoked under the bleachers.

It resulted in her becoming paranoid that Eddie was trying to get into her pants, which he most certainly was not, and inadvertently coming out to him in a moment of panic.

He swore to take her secret to his grave, quit showing up to class, and they didn’t speak again until she came riding in alongside everyone else on Dustin’s little rescue mission.

Eddie wonders if she remembers any of that…

He supposes it doesn’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, particularly since Eddie seems to be the only sane one among them, which is to say the only one teetering on the edge of losing his shit, and it’s really pissing him off because none of this is normal.

It’s a fucking nightmare.

Beyond the dark, however, the perpetual red lightning storm, the alien network of hive-minded vines, and literal goddamn monsters trying to kill them, Eddie is, foolishly, most concerned about you, as always.

He’s well aware of just how stupid that is, to worry about you up on the surface with all the subterranean dangers that pose a direct threat to his life and limb - he’s not even sure that’s the correct way to quantify it, but it sure as hell seemed like he’d swum through the bottom of the lake and crawled out on the other side of the world.

He wishes more than anything that you were here if only because then at least he’d have someone who he could turn to and know with confidence would agree, “Yes, Edward, this is in fact insane.”

Normally he rails against the utterance of his government name because the only people who call him that are typically authority figures preparing to dole out some sort of capital punishment, or his mother when she was royally pissed at him – “Edward Munson if you think I’m about to let that slide you have got another thing coming,”.

And you, of course, though you only ever do so with the utmost fondness… and very often in an affected English accent, which despite being one of the worst impressions he’s ever heard, Eddie actually likes very much.

What he wouldn’t give to have you right here, trying to liven the mood by doing that stupid accent. He can almost hear you chewing through it.

“We’re in a right mess, innit, Edward?” You’d say, “Pip-pip cheerio and the lot…” or whatever.

Still, a decent-sized part of Eddie’s brain is attempting to crawl out of his skull and abandon him to the madness of this place, and imagining all the ways you would try to make the situation seem less dire if you were there is doing nothing to help.

Because you’re not there.

Why in the hell hadn’t you come with them in the boat?

He knows why, of course, rationally so – there was no room, someone needed to stay with the kiddos, and most of all you’re hurt – but there are spiders in his skull, skittering around and irrationally whispering that the real reason you stayed behind was that after everything that happened, you couldn’t wait to get away from him.

A larger part of Eddie than he is ready to acknowledge is pissed about it because you’d only just finished agreeing not to split up anymore.

Together is better, you’d promised him that, but another part of him understands why you might be desperate to get away.

First Chrissy, then Patrick? He’s got to be cursed, why else would he be made to bear witness to those deaths?

Eddie is laden with the feeling, wrestling with the guilt and the misplaced anger and the confusion, and everything else his body is trying to feel all at once as he trudges through the nightmarish woods.

Step by aimless step he follows, careful to avoid the network of vines and the concerned gazes of unlikely companions, who all continue to treat this like it’s nothing more than a casual stroll through the woods, like this is just another Tuesday.

Is it Tuesday? He has no idea what day it is… and he can’t stop thinking about you, playing the moment on the shore over and over in his mind. Thinking about the way he’d reached for your hand, and how instead of taking it you’d carefully curled his fingers back in on themselves, shaking your head and insisting you’d only slow them down.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

The voice startles Eddie, wrenching him violently – thankfully – from the mire of his thoughts.

Steve is there, giving him a strangely concerned look, having fallen back into step with him at some point over the last few contemplative minutes.

Eddie blinks back at him, not entirely sure how to answer and wondering just how long he’s been there. He almost doesn’t realize he’d asked him a question until Steve’s brows jump up toward his hairline.

“Me?” Eddie scoffs, he briefly considers lying, but the truth is out before the notion can really take hold, “No, Man. I’m pretty goddamn far from okay.”

Harrington nods solemnly, in a way that seems, weirdly enough, almost remorseful, like it’s his fault they’re down here in this mess… which, it technically is, if they’re pointing fingers here.

True, Eddie didn’t have to follow them out of the boat, he could have sat there and waited for them to come back, but he knew they weren’t coming back, and he didn’t have to swim to the bottom of the lake, he could have just as easily swum to shore …

It hits him like a brick to the face.

Why the hell didn’t he swim to shore?

Steve casts his gaze down to his feet, exposing the dark, angry ligature marks ringing his throat and Eddie fails to suppress a shudder.

That’s why – because Steve was in trouble, and some repressed kernel of do-right in Eddie, the same one that drove him over the side of the boat and down into the depths to the bottom of the lake, wanted to help.

Or at least it didn’t want the shame of having to look Robin and Nancy in the eyes if he didn’t help and the bats went and pulled Steve’s head off anyway.

Ego is a funny thing, sanity even more so, because as crazy as it had seemed at the time to dive in after Robin, crazier still was the concept that had he not, it could have resulted in yet another death – or deaths, perhaps – that he would have been indirectly responsible for.

Still, his body is still thrumming with adrenaline from the fight, and not in the good, buzzy way either.

He’s been picking at the blackened, drying blood on his hands for the better part of an hour now, and part of him has started to wonder if it’s ever going to come off, if any of the blood on his hands is ever going to wash away.

Before he can get very far down the road with that line of thinking, Steve tries again.

“Thanks for this… by the way,” he says, plucking at the collar of Eddie’s battle vest sitting across his broad-shouldered form in a sorry state.

It’s filthy, splattered with ichor and viscera, and several patches have torn loose, much to Eddie’s dismay, but it’s the strangest combination of freezing cold and unbearably humid down there, wherever they are.

The way he figures, Steve needs it more than he does – that and it’s the only thing shielding their eyes from the knitted sweater he has got sprouting from his chest.

He basically had to hand it over, if for nothing more than modesty’s sake.

Still, the sentiment startles him– gratitude? Really?

Unaccustomed to basic human pleasantries from the likes of Steve Harrington, he finds himself at a loss and he suppresses the urge to twist around and make sure he’s actually talking to him.

For lack of anything else to do, he gives a lopsided shrug and gestures vaguely.

“Oh… yeah – no worries.” He stammers, “Least I could do.”

“...And thanks for... s-saving me… that was–” Steve clears his throat in an attempt to keep his voice steady – it’s awkward, “Yeah… anyway. Thanks for that.”

Eddie gestures vaguely, suddenly unsure of whether he wants the burden of Steve’s gratitude.

“Wheeler did all the work, I just tried to stay out of her way…” He mumbles, “She’s badass,”

Steve chuckles in a way that feels oddly secretive.

“You have no idea.” He says.

Of course, Eddie can’t possibly know what that means, but it’s compelling, nonetheless, and entirely true.

He makes a mental note of it in the Rolodex of his mind:

Wheeler, Nancy: Good grades, pastels, kinda prissy. Dated that douchebag, Steve Harrington – Badass.

A sticky silence bleeds between them after that, and Eddie passes the time stealing a handful of looks at Steve, casually walking alongside him, on purpose.

He can’t help be feel ever so slightly amazed.

If his shitty friends could see him now – only he’s fairly certain Steve isn’t friends with his shitty friends anymore, at least so he’d heard.

Normally it wouldn’t be enough to wash away the history of torment between them. Steve had, for a time, been the driving force behind a campaign to make Eddie’s life a living hell, but this situation is just too bizarre, too outlandish to discount – there might be some merit to Dustin’s hero worship of the guy after all.

Suddenly he can’t help himself.

“That was pretty metal what you did back there…” Eddie posits, and when Steve casts a curious look his way, he continues with tentative enthusiasm, “Biting that thing’s head off? Major Ozzy energy.”

Steve furrows his brow.

“…huh?”

Uh oh. In an instant, the feeling is gone, replaced by the much less desirable panic of an impending social failure.

Eddie scrambles to explain himself and bridge the valley between their interests.

“Ozzy Osbourne?” He tries to no avail, “Bit a bat’s head off on –?” Steve’s face remains unbearably blank, so Eddie abandons ship for his own sake, “Nevermind…” he hums, “It was – yeah, it was cool…”

Another one of those awkward silences falls heavily across their shoulders, and because he’s never learned to leave well enough alone, Eddie simply cannot leave it undisturbed.

Surely Steve has got to know what he’s talking about, even if only indirectly. It’s not like Ozzy is an obscure reference.

“You know Ozzy though, right?” He tries, “Black Sabbath?”

He pulls a face and shakes his head, much to Eddie’s chagrin.

Shit. Okay, lesson learned.

Harrington, Steve: Fucking jerk. Worshipped by Henderson. Doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is.

He dismisses the notion too late.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Thankfully, they are not doomed to yet another unbearable silence as Steve quickly changes the subject, sweeping the interaction away with a wave of his hand.

“Hey, so… look, I’m sorry for what I did back there… starting that fight between you and...” He trails off when he realizes the reference has flown right over Eddie’s head, “Back in the boat house?”

Oh. He doesn't know how to respond to that. Eddie is not entirely sure anyone has ever apologized to him for anything... ever.

Still, it strikes him as an odd thing to say.

Almost everything Steve has ever said to him has been something worth apologizing over, but try as he might, Eddie can’t think of any particularly noteworthy zingers from the last few days.

And he does try, wracking his brain and coming up empty – but he doesn’t trust it, whatever this is, so Eddie levels Steve with an unimpressed look.

“So, this is the part where you get all mushy and remorseful because you almost died, right?” He starts slowly, “You’re gonna tell me you’re sorry for being such a fucking asshole back in the day and I'm just supposed to forgive you because you almost had your head pulled off?”

Strangely, it doesn’t elicit the expected response - no defensive comebacks, no biting retorts, just a weighted sigh that carries the heavy burden of guilt.

“Oh, shit… wait, seriously?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, which is still somehow maddeningly perfectly coiffed – it makes Eddie feel frizzy and unkempt.

“Look, we’re not in high school anymore…” He starts, then stops like he’s only just remembered that isn’t expressly true, “– well, you know what I mean…”

“Careful.” Eddie warns.

Steve forces out a hard, frustrated breath and rolls his eyes – he’s barely even begun to make his point and he’s already fallen flat on his face.

“What I mean is that there are bigger things happening here,” He huffs, “It kind of puts things into perspective and makes all the stupid petty shit seem…” He trails off as he searches for the right word.

Eddie is more than happy to help.

“...Stupid and petty?” He offers.

“Exactly. I was an asshole – I’m still an asshole, and I’m working on it, but some old habits die harder than others–”

“Clearly,”

Steve clenches his teeth and flexes his jaw and apparently resists the urge to make some kind of snide remark, electing instead to swallow the blow and nod.

He's doing it on purpose, and Steve knows that as well as Eddie does, even if it's not an overt show of effort. Part of him figures if he can get under Steve's skin and rile him up, it will make him drop whatever bullshit act this is and they can go back to hating each other like normal. But try as he might he can't seem to break him.

This may, in fact, be a genuine show of remorse.

He can’t make heads or tails of it, except that Steve had very nearly died less than an hour ago, and nothing sets someone’s head on straight like facing the precipice.

Eddie can’t help but feel a little more than dumbfounded, because this has never happened even in his wildest flights of fancy. He almost can’t believe it, and what’s more, part of him knows he shouldn’t believe it.

He should know better, that at any moment the rug will be pulled from beneath his feet and he’ll find out it’s nothing more than a big elaborate joke, he’ll be doused in pig’s blood and find out he’s not actually the Prom Queen, and that will be that.

Still, he seems genuine, as if Eddie would know what genuine even looks like one Steve.

Maybe Robin’s right and those bats are affecting him in stranger ways than they realize.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Steve continues, “Is that I treated you like shit and you didn’t deserve it, and I’m sorry about that.” he averts his gaze then and gestures vaguely in Eddie’s directly, “I mean, Henderson says your decent, and he’s usually a pretty good judge of character...”

Eddie fails to repress a sardonic snort of laughter, though not at Steve so much as the concept of Dustin being a good judge of character when he's out here double teaming friendships with people who are meant to be enemies.

“Is he though?” He presses.

Steve fails to repress a smirk and shrugs broad shoulders beneath torn, dingy denim.

“Yeah– well. The kid’s biased, anyway, he’s pretty much obsessed with you." He mutters, "It’s annoying as hell.”

It strikes Eddie that this is the first real conversation he’s ever had with Steve that didn’t involve him antagonizing him one way or another.

Still, he can't help himself

“Don’t tell me Steve Harrington, arguable deposed King of Hawkins High, is jealous of the town freak?”

Steve pulls a face, brows pinched tight over his eyes and glares back at him.

“Don’t be a dick," He says, though his tone is oddly not malicious, "This is embarrassing for me, okay? I’m opening up here.”

Part of him wants to hold Steve on the hook for it, out of some long-buried yearning for payback for all the shit he has put him through over the years, but in spite of everything and against his better judgment, Eddie suddenly feels a bizarre, misplaced fondness for the guy.

You used to say that Steve was a mean girl with a God complex, but looking at him now, Eddie can see he's really never been much more than a big fish in a small pond.

Popular kids who don’t extend their shelf life by way of scholarships and collegiate glory tend to fizzle out and implode, and Eddie imagines that every day Steve spends in Hawkins, that little pond gets a little smaller, and he shines a little less brightly.

“So…" Eddie begins tentatively, crossing his arms over his chest and hugging his biceps, "You’ve been holding on to this for a long time, huh? The guilt?”

Steve mirrors his posture and casts his gaze down to his feet, shaking his head.

“You have no idea.” He chuckles.

Eddie scoffs.

“Don’t I?” He counters, “Guilt is my bread and butter, Man… I was raised on that shit.”

He doesn't seem to know what to do with that knowledge. The sheer valley between their upbringings is evidently too wide a gap to bridge, so Steve pivots and yet again changes the subject.

“So, are you and the Psycho getting back together or what?”

It only takes Eddie half a moment to realize Steve is talking about you.

He gives him a terse look of warning, but when Steve raises his hands in an show of no offense, Eddie shrugs.

Before he can think better about divulging the intricacies of his lingering heartbreak to the likes of Steve Harrington, the words come tumbling out.

“I don’t know…” Eddie hums, “Things are pretty much fucked in that department.”

“What’s the problem?”

He swings his foot to kick at a rock, send it skittering across the forest floor, but remembers where they are and thinks better of it at the last moment, electing instead to roll in under his shoe as he passes it over.

“It just feels different now. Kind of like we’re just pretending…”

Another one of those heavy pauses passes between them.

“Hey, listen, Man, I don’t wanna step on your toes or anything, but you guys broke up." Steve says, "Things are always gonna be different the second time around. That doesn’t make it any less real. Don’t be so goddamn cynical–”

It's hardly a blow, but in spite of himself, Eddie bristles. He levels Steve with a hard, armored look.

“Look, don’t patronize me, okay? I’ve got no delusions about what I did. I made my bed, now I’ve gotta be a big boy and burn it.”

“I don’t think that’s the saying.”

“You know what I mean.” He snaps.

He supposes Steve means well, but Eddie can’t help but get defensive. It's like he said ... old habits and the like.

Still, Steve meets his gaze stares back at him long enough to make him regret his tone. Long enough even to make Eddie uncomfortable with the proximity, and so he clears his throat, averting his gaze and staring down at his sneakers, tinged nearly black from the ichor of bat’s blood.

He realizes with a start that Steve is still barefoot and wonders how much further they've got to go before they're out of this mess.

“Did you cheat on her?” Steve asks suddenly.

It hits Eddie like a fist to the gut.

“No,” He says immediately, feeling ever so slightly winded.

Steve nods then, pursing his lips like he understands what happened.

“Got in a fight and called her a bitch or something?” He says, "That's what did Tommy and Carol in–"

The notion makes Eddie's heart seize in his chest because beyond the fact that it makes him sick to have his relationship (or lack-thereof) compared to the likes of Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, he would never stoop so low, no matter how angry he was, no matter what you did.

He may have been raised with a shocking lack of social skills, but Wayne had made damn sure that he knew better.

Of course, Steve could never know something like that, but he can’t help the way it leaves him bristling.

“No.”

Steve continues to nod slowly, then pauses a moment like he has to really process the information before he knows what to do with it.

“What was it then?" He asks, "What’d you do?”

“Nothing –” Eddie insists, feeling suddenly foolish for how defensive he sounds because it wasn’t nothing and Steve can see that as well as anyone, “I broke up with her – and I was kind of a major prick about it… I mean, not just kind of… I was mean about it.”

“Why?”

He’s loath to admit it, but now that the stopper is out, it’s hard to put it back in, and the truth comes spilling out.

“... I got scared…” Eddie mumbles, crossing his arms tighter over his chest and reaching up to tug at a snarled lock of his hair.

“Scared of what?”

Eddie exhales harshly under the duress of this bizarre interrogation, hating the way he can feel his guts seizing up. When he got in the boat that evening, he didn't expect he was going to have to relieve all the mistakes of his recent past.

“Jesus, what are you some kind of cop? You’re kind of intense, you know that?”

Steve rolls his eyes and makes a chattering little mouth of his hand to mimic Eddie’s whining.

“Quit deflecting and just answer the goddamn question, Munson – what scared you bad enough to end your annoyingly perfect relationship?”

He could almost laugh out loud at the concept of Steve not only referring to his relationship with you as perfect, but apparently to the point of being annoyed by it.

“Perfect relationship?” Eddie splutters, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on, Man – she and I used to run in the same circle, remember? I was there when you showed up. Don’t pretend you didn’t come in and sweep her off her feet like something out of a goddamn movie.”

It takes Eddie a moment longer than he'd like to admit to realize Steve is teasing him. Once again, he doesn't know what to do with that information.

Finally, Steve prods him sharply in the chest in a way that could almost be construed as good natured.

“What happened with you two?”

“Nothing happened…" Eddie insists, and wills himself to shut up about it after that, but now that he’s started he can’t stop, "That’s the problem." Goddammit. "It was the same as it always was and I started getting scared that it was getting too good to last … that she was gonna wake up one day and realize everybody’s right about me.”

The silence the follows is deafening with Eddie's confession hanging in the air between them. He braces himself for a tirade of teasing and razzing and all the other kinds of verbal abuse he can expect from anyone else in this town, but instead Steve just nods sagely.

“So you pushed her away – hurt her before she could hurt you and inadvertently proved that everybody is right about you? That sound about right?”

It's the kind of observation he might have expected Wayne to make, if he'd actually had to stones to open up to him about what happened with you like this, and it leaves Eddie reeling.

Well… what do you know, turns out Steve Harrington is actually pretty goddamn insightful.

For lack of anything better to do and more than just a little bit indignant at being so easily read, Eddie stuffs his hands into his pockets and pushes his shoulders up toward his ears.

“Pretty much.” He sniffs.

“You fucked up,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

“Sure did.”

“...And what about that makes it so unforgivable that things are never going to be okay again? How come she's never gonna forgive you?”

Eddie shrugs and wonders idly how getting trapped in another dimension had turned into receiving a lecture about love.

“Because I broke her heart.”

Steve scoffs.

“Nah, that’s bullshit.” He says, dismissing the notion with a flippant wave, “It’s a speed bump."

Eddie realizes too late he's staring at Steve when he quirks one of those thick eyebrows at him.

"What, you’ve never gone over a speed bump? No way, I've seen the way you drive." He says, and then all the teasing goes out of him and he becomes the one things Eddie never expected to see, sincere.

"Listen," Steve starts, "I know for whatever reason you can’t see it, but ask anyone here – she’s crazy about you, Man. Trust me. Apologize for whatever you said, or whatever you didn’t say – don’t roll your eyes, that goes a long way with girls – and let her know how you feel.”

Eddie shakes his head, more than a little frustrated that he could think it’s as simple as that, like he hasn’t tried apologizing again and again and blanketing you in his affection – smothering you, more like.

“I’ve told her, Man,” He sighs, "Over and over again..."

“So you tell her again. Keep trying until something sticks. It’s all you can do.”

He supposes if he really sat down to think about it, it's as good advice as any.

Still, he can’t wrap his head around the fact that he’s standing there getting unsolicited relationship advice from Steve Harrington, who’d once spectacularly thrown him into a dumpster behind the movie theatre.

He reaches out and claps him on the shoulder, and Eddie fails to suppress a flinch.

“You guys are gonna be fine – hey, who’s the expert here?”

“I’m sorry …Expert?” Eddie snorts.

Steve shrugs like it wasn’t the dorkiest thing anyone has ever said in the history of mankind.

“Yeah, they don’t call me the Love Doctor for nothing.”

Nevermind, that’s the dorkiest thing anyone has ever said or will ever say in the history of mankind and the world forever.

Harrington, Steve: Fucking jerk Not so bad, I guess. Worshipped by Henderson. Doesn’t know who Ozzy Osbourne is. Total fucking cheeseball.

Eddie cannot wait to tell you about this.

“Nobody calls you that.” He’s almost giddy as he says it.

Steve dismisses the notion with a flippant wave of his hand.

“That’s not the point, the point is trust me. I’ve been around the block — I know crazy when I see it, and that girl? Totally crazy about you, and I mean certifiably bat shit…”

Eddie shrugs.

“You aren’t wrong – she’s pretty much nuts.”

“Hey, crazy’s not always a bad thing…” Steve says, and Eddie follows his gaze up the path to where the girls walk far ahead of them, blazing the trail.

He can't help but notice the faintest hint of longing pass across Steve's face, and Eddie feels his face begin to split in a wry smile.

“You know, Nancy’s pretty fucking crazy, diving in after you like that?" Eddie starts, "I mean, you wanna talk about what’s real? That’s as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

He forces himself to swallow the bitter lump swelling in his throat and along with it the silent wish that he could somehow be different, be better, be a version of himself worth going after that like that.

Eddie clears his throat to banish the notion.

"You sure this isn’t some elaborate scheme to win her back?”

“No.” Steve says firmly, “Absolutely not.”

Eddie is not convinced - he gives a lopsided shrug.

“Well, I sure hope it isn’t Buckley you’re trying to impress, because I think you’ll find you’re barking up the wrong tree with that one.”

Steve's head snaps around so quickly that he's half surprised it didn't twist all the way around to the other side.

“What?" He yelps, "No, I mean – no. Look, let’s get one thing straight, Robin and I are completely – we’re just friends and I would never… h-how do you know about–? I mean… what do you mean?”

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes at Steve’s fumbling attempt to stop himself from what he can only assume is outing Robin.

It’s noble, to be sure, and he’s got to give him credit for that, but Eddie’s no fool. Even if she hadn’t outright told him, he’s lived long enough in Wayne’s company to recognize the signs of a closeted person living in a conservative midwestern town, faint as they may be.

"What do you mean?" Eddie counters.

The question seems enough to stagger Steve, though not for the obvious reasons, it would seem.

“Nothing." He says quickly.

"You sure about that?"

"This isn’t about Robin, okay? It’s about Nancy – I mean – no, it’s not! But even if it was… look, it doesn’t matter because she’s with Jonathan now, and they seem… fine…”

Eddie stops short and reels on Steve, causing him to stagger a step in an attempt to keep from crashing into him.

In the distance, Robin and Nancy continue on none the wiser.

Eddie drops his tone and leans in to invade Steve's personal space. Steve inches back ever so slightly, out of impulse, he imagines, and Eddie smirks.

“And yet, you will notice that Jonathan is conspicuously absent from this endeavor.” He says slowly, quiet enough that Steve is hanging on his every word.

He lets the notion hang between them, breathe a little, and waits to see if Steve will catch on.

He doesn’t, he just gives him another one of those quizzical looks as the yawning chasm of Jonathan Byers's absence grows louder and louder, and Nancy disappears further up the path.

Eddie tilts his head toward Steve and raises his brows, willing him to understand.

He only knows Jonathan in passing, and from one social pariah with a mean daddy to another, he typically commiserates with him to a degree. He might feel bad about failing to discourage such behavior, but some opportunities are not worth passing up.

If Jonathan is the type of guy to stay out in California and leave his girlfriend to spend spring break swimming in Steve Harrington-infested waters, that’s his poor decision to make.

If it were you, and you had some stupid new boyfriend off in another state, Eddie would not hesitate. He'd go and bang down your door.

Steve shakes his head, still failing to see what Eddie is practically spelling out for him, and he wonders with a brief astonishment whether he could really be that dense.

“What do you –” He starts, then stops as it dawns on him, and his eyes go wide, “Wait… did she say something?”

Eddie shrugs and stalks off.

“Not to me,” he calls over his shoulder, casually lengthening his stride in order to catch up to Nancy and Robin.

It leaves Steve standing dumbfounded at the revelation, and in an instant, he’s scrambling to catch up.

“Do you think Nance is into me?” He asks, and then when Eddie doesn’t respond, “Hey… Eddie–!”

Eddie laughs.

“You tell me. You’re the Love Doctor.”

#cruel summer fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #i hope you all enjoy this even though it's a filler chapter #i kind of just really wanted to write that scene between steve and eddie

79 notes · View notes

verkomy · 11 months

Note

i love your art style! any tips for beginner artists?

thank you so much!! here're a few that popped into my head:

always use references! if you don't know how to draw something - look it up on the internet or (even better!) take a picture of yourself and draw it. drawing things from photos and nature will help you improve much faster than trying to draw everything from imagination and memory. ps. try not to use references drawn by someone else in the beginning because then you'll most definitely duplicate someone else's possible mistakes and we don't want that.

don't focus too much on finding your own art style. learn the rules first so you can break them later and apply them to your drawings. I can't count how many times I was angry that each of my drawings looked different until I realized that this is also a part of the whole "finding my own art style" process, so look for interesting styles and be inspired by artists you like.

and I don't know if this is a tip but I feel like I need to say this - it's okay to be inspired by someone else's art style. my art for a very long time was inspired by burdgebug (raise your hand if she was your art style goddess too) and many times I even copied her drawings too, and that is fine HOWEVER I never posted them anywhere and signed them as my own. and my point is - study art styles that you want your own style to be based on but never copy or trace someone else's drawings and post them as your own. AND if you draw something inspired by your favorite artist - tag them! I'm sure they'll be thrilled to see that their work has inspired someone. :)

digital art and tablets are great but don't forget about sketchbooks! using different types of media, from pencils to paints, give you freedom that no screen can. and if you're posting your art on social media - don't feel pressure to post every sketch online, not everything you draw has to be content.

also not everything you draw has to be perfect, let yourself experiment and learn from it!

if you're drawing digitally remember to flip your canvas! and if you're drawing traditionally you can look at your drawing in the mirror or take photo of it and flip it in the photo editing app.

don't shade with black! it will make your drawing look mudy.

I really like to draw studies from my favorite movies or tv shows because they allow me to learn how the light and shadow work in different setups so I recommend you doing that too!

I know it sounds scary but try to draw full bodies and backgrounds too and not only portraits (but they're so fun to draw right?!) so you'll improve all of these three things at the same rate. I was teriffied of drawing feet for a very long time and look where I am now - still can't draw them, why do people even need feet...

and what is most important - have fun! draw what you want, experiment, use defferent medias and art styles and find what suits you best. it's a very long road, a lifelong even, so don't be upset at first if something doesn't look the way you wanted it to (it hardly ever does even if you're on the higher level in being an artist). someday you'll be able to draw something that you've imagined for years and it's the greatest feeling in the whole world! just be patient and try to enjoy the road you're on instead of looking at the final destination.

bonus tip or more of a uplift for begginer artist that post their drawings on social media: YOU ARE AWESOME AND YOU DESERVE EVERY RECOGNISION, try not to pay attention to engagement and numbers on your posts because they can ruin your motivation like nobody's business, and remember that you are what you create and not how your art performs on the internet. <3

that's a long ass post, but I hope it's somehow helpful! I could make a post with useful resources (mostly for digital art) so let me know if you'd be interesed in that~!

#asks #art tips #text

79 notes · View notes

oneshotnewbie · 8 months

Note

Is there a tiny little chance that you will update <Missing for a Decade> soon? I absolutely love this idea, and I would love to read more of it!! <33

Supergirl - Missing for a Decade Part 5

Trigger Warning: This one-shot includes the topic of abduction and mentions of abuse. These plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle those subjects, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

Authors Note: Here you have a new chapter ♥ I'm going to edit the older chapters again since I don't like them and they seem a bit inconsistent when I look at this current chapter

ᕚ---ᕘ

"You came to talk to me about your sister and niece before you take them home?" the older gentleman asked, clearing his throat and turning completely to the women who had entered his office. "Yes,"

"I have treated more than hundred kidnapping victims, but none like your sister. Despite her captivity, she is open to other people and hardly scared which fascinates me. She is very strong," The doctor folded the remaining files on his desk and clasped his hands on the table in front of his torso, fingers locked tightly together. "You know, every victim presents a new challenge and it is like reading a map of battered bodies that have been unjustly violated"

Both Alex and Kara interestingly pulled a chair from the corner and listened to the doctor go into more details about your health, the various tests and examinations that they did on you.

"She is chronically underweight, physically atrophied. She has anemia, vitamin D and iron deficiencies, and some skin lesions and inflammation from the lack of natural light." he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and rolled them up. "Y/n Danvers shows signs of severe violence over the last few years. Broken bones that healed incorrectly and scars all over her body"

The grey-haired hesitates with another answer and bows his head down, wanting to give Kara and Alex a moment to digest the information. The office is suddenly quieter than it was at the beginning of the conversation. "What about Gracie?"

The man in front of them started to smile and looked at the two older Danvers with glittering eyes. "Despite the circumstances, your sister did a good job. Grace Danvers is a bright little girl with particularly good language skills despite her young age"

"Any signs of injury? Does she have bruises or healed broken bones?

He shook his head violently and took away all their fears with immediate effect. "No, she is a perfectly healthy girl. No vitamin deficiencies or signs of violence. No evidence of past fractures or other medical conditions. If I did not know better, I would say that her mother endured all of the abuse to protect her daughter"

The Danvers sisters nodded in unison and thanked your doctor for treating you so lavishly. Kara put one foot in front of the other as she left the office and waited for Alex to join in step. Together they walked back to your hospital room while going over the details of the injuries you had sustained in their minds.

ᕚ---ᕘ

A week had passed in which you slowly regained your strength in the hospital, slowly got used to your sisters around you and were able to get closer with them. While you were still adjusting to your new, free life, your little daughter explored everything she could get her hands on; running around the hospital with either Kara or Alex always by her side, having her aunts wrapped around her little finger since day one.

You stood nervously with your back to one of your older siblings, staring longingly out the window while your bony hand rested on the pane of glass. A sinister life stretched out behind it; a life you no longer knew. "I do not know if I am ready yet.." you replied to Kara, who sat on your bed and waited for you to take the first step outside. The first step to freedom and into a new life.

"There will never be a perfect moment, sweetheart. Nobody wants to imagine what you went through, but Alex and I will be by your side and support you. No matter how long it takes"

You nodded, saw her soft smile in the reflection and turned to her. The blonde extended her hand. You walked the last few inches that separated you, grabbed her hand so she could pull you into her arms. "Grace is already at the car with Alex and Maggie, trying out the new Nemo seat we bought for her"

You laughed briefly at the thought of how long and in how many stores the redhead must had been, desperate to find a car seat with your daughters favorite fish on it. She had wished for this one and, at the tender age of four, had already threatened not to sit in anything else but this one.

"We can go as soon as you are ready," softly, she kissed your dry and straggly hair, wrapped her arms tightly around you and savored the closeness she had missed so badly. You too snuggled up to her chest like a cat, took a deep breath of her perfume, which she still wore after all these years and let the moment sink in.

Kara´s heartbeat accelerated in your ears and her grip on you became tighter. A slight tremor emanated her body and her swallowing became stronger and heavier.

The sadness that overcame her was like an old friend who had accompanied her on the journey over the past few years. Not intrusive, but always in the foreground; always aiming to get her attention and cause deep pain where your love and closeness once found its place.

It stroked her hair every time she walked into your old room, whispered softly in her ear as in silent moments, she slid down the wall and broke down crying. Never leaving her side and always staying with her. The crushing feeling of never seeing you again, never hearing your footsteps creaking on the floor and never catching the sound of your voice ever again.

Your disappearance painted her world gray, pouring concrete over the once colorful rainbows of your being. You were the biggest concern between all the others. Your sisters were worn down by this eternal struggle - the circle of cause and effect, crime and punishment, guilt and innocence, victim and perpetrator. She had not stopped fighting this fight, but she wished she could.

And now she could finally feel the sun and see the colors again, the warmth she longed for and the soft melody of your voice that returned. "I have missed you so much," she said carefully, rocking you gently in her arms. Kara did not want to let go of you, she had been longingly waiting for this moment for too long.

"After all these years, have you stopped looking for me?"

"Yes, we did," she whispered into your hair, the pain in her voice clearly audible as salty tears strayed onto them. The blonde rested her trembling chin on the top of your head, gently stroking your shoulder while her other hand nervously played with your fingers. It was not until she composed herself that she pulled away from you just inches to look into your eyes. "We all spread out across National City and knocked on every door. We questioned alleged witnesses. But nobody had seen you or knew where you were."

Tears rolled quietly down your face, which Kara caught with the soft pads of her thumbs. Although you had asked the question yourself, your stomach still cramped completely when receiving the given information. Your family had fought through the struggle of your disappearance and given themselves up in the process. They had long since lost hope.

"I am sorry I caused you such pain," you looked at your hands and waved them around as if seeing them for the first time before closing your eyes for a brief moment. Shortly after, you opened them up again and stared at your sister with blank eyes. Kara´s on the other hand were blood red and swam behind thick glasses.

She quickly fell to the ground and knelt in front of you. Her warm hands were placed on your cheeks, her thumbs inevitably caressing them. "You are not to blame for what happened to you and you are not guilty for surviving it. Sure, we suffered pain because we thought we lost you forever, but you know what outweighs that pain?"

You shook your head and cocked it to the side, her hand now clasped between your shoulder and ear. She smiled at you briefly and pulled you to the front so your face was buried in her shoulder. "You are back and our hearts are whole again. You are so strong, a fighter and fought your way through everything that came your way. You do not have to be sorry. It. is. not. your. fault."

40 notes · View notes

deannagrey · 1 year

Text

Team Players: Original Opening Scene

The original opening for Team Players was the very steamy scene below. I kind of didn’t like the idea of just jumping into the story like this, so I decided to change it. But, in another world, I suppose this opening could have worked if I edited some more.

Please, forgive any grammar/spelling errors. This is lightly edited and was never beta read. Also, fair warning, this is a detailed sex scene. So reader discretion advised.

Fucking the captain of the hockey team in a janitor’s closet wasn’t exactly part of the plan. But, I wasn’t trying to be a checklist kind of girl this year. Not after I realized people who satisfied boxes were hardly ever fun.

Samson Morgan wasn’t the dating type, which was why I found him to be the perfect person to hook up with. We were in the same night class on leadership -- something I’m sure his coach convinced him to enroll in because it’d been the same for me.

Leading wasn’t exactly at the forefront of our minds currently. We had a fifteen-minute break before Professor Walter began lecturing again on the seven principles of great leadership. I was more interested in the seven principles of how to get off in such a short window. Sam seemed to agree with how hard his dick felt against my thigh.

“Can you keep quiet?” he whispered against my mouth. “Or do you need help?”

I scoffed. “I've never had any problems keeping quiet on my own.”

He pulled back even more so I could see the amused look in his eyes. “It wasn’t a challenge.”

“Wasn’t it though? I’m sure you’d love for me to uncontrollably moan your name. Big ego boost and all that. But, it’ll take more than a quickie in a closet to convince me to make noise.”

“You don’t think I could make you beg for it?” he asked, voice low and husky.

“Not at all.” I smiled and then, pulled him back to me for a kiss. We were talking too much. I needed some kind of release soon. “I’ve never been the begging type.”

Samson and I had been playing this back-and-forth game since the beginning of the semester. It started in the gym, with him insisting that I’d stolen his weight-lifting bench.

You couldn’t "call" a bench. You could have preferences but first come, first serve. And I always got to the gym fifteen minutes before him. So he’d have to suck it up or wake up earlier to stake his claim.

“That could change.” Sam sounded like he wholeheartedly believed his words. “With the right person, anyone can turn into the begging type.”

I playfully rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

He moved his lips to my jaw and then, down my neck. When his fingers slipped underneath my shirt, I arched into him and nearly moaned before remembering myself. No way he was going to get the satisfaction that easily.

Sam's reputation on campus was told in two parts. One: a guy who slept with any girl he could. Two: he was one of the best hockey players on this side of the country.

Not only was he good at getting girls off but good a making them still love him afterward. I hadn’t heard a single bad thing about him from the women he slept with. Sure, they were most often disappointed and sad about his preference for one-night stands. But on a whole, no one directed venom his way. That was a difficult thing to do. Maintaining a reputation like that on a college campus was near impossible when you slept around.

When Sam started to move down my body, I leaned my head back against the wall. Something was poking me in my back -- a broom handle, I think. But I didn’t complain. There was nothing to complain about when he unbuttoned my jeans and tugged them off of me. My underwear was the next to go.

“You sure about this?” he asked between kisses on my thighs.

God, his voice was deeper now. I sighed at the tone, relaxing into his grip on my waist. How long had it been since someone sounded ready to worship me? Forever and a day.

“Yes, of course." As I spoke I tried my best not to sound too hoarse. Desire had a way of making my throat dry.

Sam hummed in approval, mouth hovering over my pussy. “That sounded really close to begging, Aderyn.”

I scoffed. “It was me giving permission. Now, focus. We don’t have long.”

Sam chuckled but did as he was told. He coaxed one of my legs over his shoulder. I felt the cold air of the building brush against my wetness. The freezing temperature didn’t last for long, disappearing when Sam covered me with his mouth.

He took my clit between his lips, kissing it carefully like he wanted to double-check I wanted him. I arched into his kisses, making him feel comfortable enough to trace careful circles around my clit.

I chewed on my bottom lip, swallowing whimper after whimper because we were still at odds somehow. Despite him eating me out, we still had something to prove to one another. Neither of us wanted to be the one who needed this more than the other.

Sam pressed me harder against the wall as he sped up his sucking. One hand gripped my thigh to keep it on his shoulder. He slipped two fingers into my pussy with his other hand to explore my clenching walls. The sound of my wetness made my throat ache. I placed my hands on his head, holding him steady as I began rocking my hips against his face.

This felt like some random fantasy only my unconscious brain could cook up. I was using Sam to get off. Using the guy I’d admired from afar to make me climax when we were supposed to be focused on taking notes and writing papers on how we planned to be great leaders one day. Yeah, this couldn't get more dreamlike.

As I ground against Sam’s tongue, his two fingers turned into three, and then… my eyes flew open when he got a fourth inside. He stretched me so easily that I thought I was losing my mind.

“If you keep grinding on my tongue like that,” he murmured when he pulled back for a second. “I'm going to want to taste your orgasm. It's only fair.”

Okay, I knew this wasn't his first rodeo but damn...

I released an unsteady breath at his words and rocked my hips faster. Usually, I didn’t try to make eye contact while having casual sex. It was too intimate. Too bold. So, I resisted the urge of seeing how he looked on his knees. I kept my eyes closed and focused on the feeling of his mouth on my pussy, his fingers fucking me deep, and his words begging me to come on him.

The climax snuck up on me. One minute, my eyes were heavy, purely relaxed. The next, Sam turned his fingers to press against the back of my clit as his tongue flattened, increasing pressure on the front.

“I’m coming,” I cried as my body began to convulse.

Sam moaned into my pussy, satisfied. He gripped my thigh tightly so I wouldn’t move away from his willing tongue. The fingers that were inside of me stayed that way so my pussy had something to clench around. I started to see stars at how full I felt. He refused to pull away, even after my climax subsided, which resulted in another wave. By the time he stopped sucking, I could barely stand up without help. So, he pinned me to the wall, kissing me up and down from my neck to my chest while I came down from my high.

His dick was still hard in his pants. I gripped it through the fabric. The moan he let out was muffled against my breast.

“We’re late,” he said when I tugged down his waistband to reveal the head of his dick. It glistened with pre-cum, so swollen I didn’t know how he hadn’t burst. My nipples hardened at the sight. I wanted to hear how he sounded when he came. Would he be quick and silent? Or slow and desperate? Maybe a mismatch of both?

“So show me how you jerk off when you’re running out of time,” I challenged. “I know you probably do it a lot.”

He chuckled under his breath at my teasing. “We’ll make a mess.”

I looked around quickly, trying to see if there was anything we could clean up with. My gaze was set on a roll of brown paper towels. I nudged my chin toward them and Sam smiled.

“Show me,” I told him again.

He captured my mouth with his and grabbed my hand to place it on his dick. I moaned against his lips as he moved my hand up and down his shaft. There was enough pre-cum to work as lube. Surprisingly, he started hardening even more. The dick grew in my hand. My pussy started to get wet again at the feel of him enjoying himself so much.

When he couldn’t take the stimulation of both my lips and hands, he pulled away from my mouth to bury his face in the crock of my neck. Something about the vulnerability of this position made me hesitate for a second. He’d given me full control. Guys rarely did that. Especially athletes like him.

Sam placed his hands on the wall behind me to keep himself upright. His face was still pressed to my neck as he whispered, “Please, don’t stop, don’t slow down. Please.”

I swallowed because he was begging. Begging in the sexiest position he could be in at the moment.

He moaned as I continued to fist him. Every now and then, he’d kiss and bite my skin like he longed to give me pleasure too but couldn’t focus on two things at once.

Nothing compares to seeing a large guy groan under your touch. Sam’s fingers curled into fists that he pressed into the wall as his dick began to spill more pre-cum.

“Damn it,” he murmured when I paid close attention to the head of his dick. His gaze was on my fingers. I gave him a show, using his pre-cum to make his shaft glisten. My free hand reached for his balls. He moaned when I squeezed them.

“I need you to finish me off.” He pressed his forehead against mine. His eyes were closed so we didn’t break the no-eye contact rule.

I should have closed my eyes just in case. But I didn’t. Couldn’t. I wanted to see this. I wanted to watch him when he climaxed. It felt worth the risk.

Once Sam came, he let out a deep moan. His cum dripped down my hand and wrist. My heart hammered at the sight of his trembling body. He didn’t care if his shoulders sagged and his hands relied on the wall for stability. In my experience, players rarely let go like this. But he did. He whispered my name under his breath like it was a prayer. Like he was begging for forgiveness.

I kissed him then. I shouldn’t have because his orgasm was over. We were done. Kissing like this post-sex was for people who wanted to do something like this again. But this was it for us. Nowadays, I had a one-time policy. So did he.

When I pulled away, our eyes locked. He was coming down from his climax and seemed to be thinking the same thing I was. Why had I kissed him? It was completely uncalled for.

I cleared my throat and started readjusting my clothes. “Glad we got that out of our system.

He nodded and reached for the paper towels to clean off before tugging his pants up. “Agreed.”

“Good?” I asked before opening the door. I meant the question in reference to if he had all his clothes adjusted properly but there was unnecessary weight to my words. So, he rightfully thought I was referring to sex.

“Great, actually.” He caught my gaze. There was something in his eyes I couldn’t read. “Can’t happen again but great.”

I frowned, my expression darkening because I knew that. Hell, I probably thought it before he did. At yet, he had to go a say it out loud like I was going to turn into some lovesick puppy who’d follow him around campus.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” I said, simply and started back into the hall without looking back.

#teamplayersdeletedscene #mendellhawksseries #aderynsam

14 notes · View notes

capucapo · 9 months

Text

Brothers' Battle part 1/4

[ continued from here, directly copied from Discord w minor editing for typos and formatting. yes, we played out an entire Duel. it's going to be a little bit of a read but I'm really, REALLY proud of this group effort to rewrite the VR World arc and there's so much good Character behind the card games.

Seto Kaiba @blueeyesking, me as Noa, Mokuba, and the Yugis. Wyatt @seashaper, Hika @nameless-brand, and Pyre @redeyesandchilifries coming in later

Names with my posts don't always line up bc sometimes I just switch POVs too many times in one reply, but will be color blocked with purple for the Yugis, magenta for Mokuba, and black italic (like this!) for Noa ]

Seto Kaiba

Seto's grin immediately falls away, replaced with a slightly agape shock. Concern tugs at the muscles in his face, twitching into another barely-recognizable microexpression- but Mokuba should be able to read Seto's face like a book, and that book reads,

"MOKUBA!"

He's alive! He's not hurt, and doesn't seem to be at all restrained… but his clothes are very… muted. Maybe it's just the virtual world's expression of him.

Mokuba

Mokuba's reaction hardly looks relieved to see the eldest Kaiba. The Imposter. His brows knit tight, his jaw set.

[ High above, an alarm rings out through Noa's control room. The largest, central screen changes perspective, zooming in on a young man with dark, braided hair. If he had veins, his blood would have turned to ice inside them.

No. No no no.

Why was Mokuba putting himself in danger? ]

On the street below, Mokuba takes a defiant step towards the imposter.

"gee, and I thought losers were supposed to give up and die," Mokuba's tone is venomous.*

yugi!

Yugi feels his heart sink as he utters the teenager's name in concern. His Other Self balls a fist, swallows the lump that forms in his throat as he spares a glace toward Kaiba.

The world seems to stand still.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's heart sinks, too, but it was already so deep it didn't have far to fall.

He… he couldn't be serious. He couldn't have said that, right? This must be another nightmare, only shared. Surely. Seto stops directing his Blue-Eyes, and it begins biting and slashing and firing beams at the insects on its own.

"That was what Gouzaburo believed."

Mokuba

Mokuba's glare doesn't falter.

"so then how many times do you have to lose before you listen???? just leave me and my Big Brother ALONE already!!!"

[ As he snaps at this Imposter, his so called Brother appears. A young man somewhere between the brothers in age, with an uncanny likeness to the elder. He wears a pleasant smile, but his eyes are cold and sharp as an icicle. He places a hand upon Mokuba's shoulder, and the way that the younger boy leans familiarly into the touch turns both Yugi's stomachs in unison. ]

"mokuba--" Yugi starts to step forward, only to be blocked by his Other's arm. Not yet, he feels inside his heart.

Seto Kaiba

"Your big brother… I don't even know who this clown is."

Seto covers his despair in biting wit, crossing his arms and straightening into a properly haughty posture. His eyes catch Noa's, and narrow.

"Whoever this kid is, he's not your brother, Mokuba. I am. And I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back."

Mokuba

The look on Mokuba's face is heartbreaking enough for Yugi. He gives a concerned look in Kaiba's direction.

["Give it up, Seto," Noa finally speaks, his gentle, song-songly voice uncomfortably calm. "Mokuba remembers the way that you hurt him, you hit him and then set your monsters lose upon him-- Isn't that right my Baby Brother?"]

"that's right. I'm not going ANYWHERE with you!!! my REAL brother and I are going to take Kaiba Corp back and remind the world what WINNING looks like!!"

Mokuba raises his left arm, a DuelDisk materializing in a wave of glowing cyan pixels. Noa's hand tenses on his shoulder.

["Mokuba. This isn't safe, you need to let me--" ]

"no. no, he HURT me. I need to do this, Big Brother. I've been waiting my whole LIFE to do this." Mokuba's words drip with poisonous resentment.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's eyes don't widen. Of course. This person has poisoned Mokuba against him with yet more realistic bending of the truth. Just like in his own nightmare, something terrible was done to Mokuba by some program wearing his face…

However, he wasn't expecting Mokuba to try and Duel him. Seto glances at the Yugis, then steps forward, removing the cards inside his DuelDisk and shuffling them. The Blue-Eyes nearby dematerializes as it is removed from the field.

"If that's what you want, Mokuba… I accept your challenge."

He looks to the stranger.

"The only danger here is the delusion you have, about taking my brother and the company I sacrificed my life for. We have suffered enough of Gouzaburo's lingering grudges!"

Seto flares a hand out dramatically, causing his coat to flap and emphasize the motion.

Mokuba

"WHAT brother??" Mokuba snaps. "'cuz MY only brother is Noa, and you stole that company from US. and once I beat you at your precious favorite game, I'm taking back what's ours," Mokuba snaps at the Imposter.

Yugi looks nervous, chewing on his bottom lip as he anxiously watches this confrontation between brothers. When Seto accepts the challenge, he gasps, takes a step toward the taller man again.

"kaiba, i don't have a good feeling about this--"

"shut UP, yugi. enough of your stupid friendship speeches, this is a family conversation!" Mokuba snaps. Then he turns to look up at the young man beside him, his expression and tone softening as he does. "you can do something about that, right Big Brother?"

[ Noa gives a dark grin in response, his cold, blue eyes locking onto the object of his animosity. "Of course I can, my Baby Brother. How about we take this battle somewhere just a bit more.. fitting," Noa hums.

Slowly he raises one hand in a grand gesture, and as he does, the streets of Domino City seem to crumble and fall away. The ground around their feet begins to rise high, high up into the blue sky, until the parties finds themselves on three separate rooftops. The brothers standing opposite each other on a long walkway, the Yugis and Noa occupying two smaller, round turrets, separated from the main platform by an endless chasm. ]

Yugi's heart skips a beat. His Other Self feels his stomach drop.

The details are different, but they recognize this playing field. The parapets at either end of the rooftop.

They both already know these stakes before Noa has to explain.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's heart pounds in his chest, the alarm he feels impossible to hide. His stance widens to steady himself as the terrain changes- into an all too familiar arrangement. They… they can't be serious. This is where Yugi learned their family's harshest lesson: to lose is to die. But he talked Seto off of the edge by conceding to his unfair ultimatum.

Seto's heart pounds in his ears.

"He's lying to you, Mokuba!" his tone is slightly more desperate. "You and I stole the company from Gouzaburo- and this boy has never been in our lives! I promised you we would- we would make theme parks, and entertain and support kids everywhere, so that they didn't have to suffer like we did!"

Regardless of his attempts at reasoning with Mokuba, Seto readies his Duel Disk.

Mokuba

Mokuba's never been here before. He's never seen this arena, never before heard the chilling ultimatum. But he doesn't need to. He already knows everything he needs to, as decided by Big Brother Noa.

"you're the one who's lying!! you really think anyone believes that?? YOU ?? caring about anyone but yourself???" Mokuba snaps as he draws his first five cards. "you threw away everything that made KaibaCorp what it was just to humiliate and MOCK our father's legacy!!! I'm going first!!"

[ "Let me remind you of the rules here, Seto," Noa purrs from the sidelines, his voice as deceptively gentle as ever. "You'll each take a step backwards for every 100 points of damage that you take. When your lifepoints run out, so does the rootftop you stand upon. Of course, these monsters aren't some cheap trick of light, like you're used to. The force of your attacks may be enough to bring this Duel to a conclusion before they even hit zero." ]

Mokuba stands confidently, a violent storm in his eyes as he finally looks down at the cards he's drawn. He can't help but smirk-- it's a perfect opening hand.

He sets the board wirh two face down cards, one monster, one a spell or trap, and ends his turn.

Seto Kaiba

The glare Seto levels at Noa may as well have the same level of threat as a gun barrel. But after a moment, he's more focused on the game at hand, brutal stakes clawing at his back.

In his first hand are Cyber Jar, Spirit Ryu, Burst Breath, Shrink, and Ring of Defense. He sets one and plays the monster in Defense Mode.

"The Kaiba Corporation, as a military entity, was a monstrous tool of destruction that gave the highest bidder the necessary firepower to massacre anyone in their way. Is that a legacy to be proud of, Mokuba? Or was it always our dream to save the world by making it a better place? To pursue our passion for children's card games? Open your eyes! Our adoptive father beat me every day, to teach me this world is cruel and unforgiving to the weak, and the world of business is worse. But we outplayed him at his own game, and with him gone, KaibaCorp has been flourishing as an entertainment technology company. You can't tell me you'd be happier facilitating the death of millions for money, just because it was what some old fool wanted you to do with his resources!"

Mokuba

[ Noa's own blue eyes meet Seto's threatening glare, but the smile on his lips shows only amusement as the fight begins in earnest ]

Mokuba draws a card to begin his turn. Effect Veiler.

"Kaiba Corporation was the epitome of power and strength. do you even hear yourself???? when the next great war starts, how many people are you going to save with children's card games???" Mokuba argues spitefully.

He takes only a second to look over the cards in his hand. His opening draw was good-- improbably so. Controlled as all things in this domain by Noa's divine will. That would be the only help offered to the youngest Kaiba, justified, in Noa's opinion, by the teenager's lack of experience as a Duelist. Not that he needed to justify something that no one, not even Mokuba, would know.

Mokuba plays Mystical Space Typhoon, targeting Seto's only set card for destruction. He then flips face up the monster he'd set on his first turn, revealing a weak and harmless Red Eyes Baby Dragon, now standing in attack mode. Plays another spell from his hand, Red Eyes Insight, sending one monster from his deck straight to the graveyard in order to add another spell to his hand. It isn't time for that yet, though. Instead, he activates his set trap card, allowing him to bring the Red Eys Archfiend of Lightning he'd sent to the graveyard immediately to the field. In exchange for his turn's normal summon, he activates the archfiend's effect, destroying the weak monster Seto had chosen to defend himself.

"you didn't outplay anyone. you cheated, and you stole away my Big Brother's rightful place at the head of our company!!!! don't act like you're above us, seto. how many deaths have YOU caused in your selfish rise to power, anyway??? what makes you any DIFFERENT ?? just because you like playing stupid little games for stupid little kids? it's time to grow UP already," he snaps, before ordering his baby dragon to attack directly.

Seto Kaiba

Seto's set card turned out to be the trap card Burst Breath! It disintegrates as Seto discards it, cussing quietly to himself. He knows Mokuba, having Red Eyes Baby Dragon on the field, will want it attacked so that it can activate its effect. He doesn't know all of Mokuba's deck, though, and the archfiend catches Seto off-guard, obliterating his Spirit Ryu and leaving him open to the Baby Dragon's direct attack. Its fireball pushes him back the required twelve steps, closer and closer to the edge…

"But we did outplay him, Mokuba! My plan hinged on you- I believed in you to make it work! This guy didn't exist-- we were Gouzaburo's only sons! He's using you!"

The taller brother calls over to Mokuba, even as he draws and glances at his remaining options. His drawn card is Pot of Greed-excellent. He casts Pot of Greed and draws his two cards, fishing for options to take out Mokuba's monsters without hurting him too badly. Even if he can deck his brother out without pushing him to the edge, will this bloodthirsty "Noa" still enforce the loss penalty…?

Vorse Raider, Heavy Storm, Thunder Dragon. Not terrible… Seto discards Thunder Dragon in order to draw his other two copies from his deck. Unfortunately, they both take one tribute to summon, themselves…

He summons the Vorse Raider in Attack Position. Then, he casts Heavy Storm, destroying Mokuba's trap card- and finally casts Shrink, targeting Mokuba's Archfiend, then begins his Battle Phase so that his Vorse Raider can attack the weakened Archfiend.

"My passion for card games isn't unique, no. But given our past, and my treatment by our adoptive father, I know how people shouldn't be treated. KaibaCorp under him would certainly have encouraged the next great war to have started already, in order to secure their bottom-line! Those resources could be better spent making people happy!"

Mokuba

Mokuba seems completely unfazed as he watches Seto move backwards, closer to the edge of the rooftop. He does spare a glance in Noa's direction, seeking quick and silent validation that he's making his Big Brother proud with that opening combo.

"you think you know everything, don't you seto??? well news flash, WE were LUCKY to get to call ourselves Gouzaburo's sons!!!!!!! and you were ungrateful for that!!! but my Big Brother Noa was Gouzaburo's only REAL son, and he was kind enough to treat me like his own brother anyway!!!!! what did YOU do??? you hit me and you pushed me away!!! you tortured me when I lost to yugi!!!!! Noa would NEVER hurt me like that!!"

Mokuba frows as his continuous trap is destroyed more quickly than expected. Somewhere there's another one of those in his deck, but he's more disappointed that his lack of any monsters in his graveyard prevent him from activating the card's second effect on destruction. Before he can be too sad by that, though, his archfiend shrinks before his eyes, its attack halving as well.

The attack that destroys his archfiend makes the teenager hiss in pain. He's not a Duelist, he's not used to even the force of solid vision. Let alone these virtual monsters with their very real pain. But he takes his required six and a half steps back with a smirk on his face."

"how would YOU know how people should be treated??? you treat everyone on earth like they're below you. tell me again, seto!! how did you get those precious blue eyes cards again???"

He draws his card for his next turn, and his smirk falters. Brows knit as his lips press into a thin line. Enemy Controller. It's not a bad pull. But he recognizes this card, and not from setting up his deck or practice plays. It's one of his opponent's. He sets it face down immediately.

He eyes the field a moment, then delares his battle phase without summoning another monster. Instead, he orders his Baby Dragon to attack the much stronger Vorse Raider without hesitation. The tiny dragon is, expectedly, destroyed immediately, and Mokuba grits his teeth, takes his 7 steps back. But his grin returns-- in fact he's almost giddy.

As the Baby goes to the graveyard, it's replaced by another, stronger dragon. And with Mokuba's battle phase still active, he orders the Red Eyes Black Dragon to attack, destroying Seto's vorse raider and 500 of his life points

"you know, Seto!!!!! if I reallyyyyy begged him to, my Big Brother might let you live!!! you'd have to give up Kaiba Corp though, oh, and your body too…. but you could live forever here in this world instead!! you just have to give up now….. last chance! I end my turn."

#ooc #ic action #[ not visible ic ]#rp #noa's arc #drabbles #I forget what tags I used when I posted the prologue on Yugi's blog xjsjsjwjwj #anyway #aside from opening hands and first draw bc of misunderstanding we did actually play this duel using notes and random bumber generators #which was REALLY fun #but the characterizations and this adaptation of the vr world arc have been REALLY fun #and I hope my mutuals can enjoy this text format Yugioh Filler Episode too #please please please like if you read I want to gage engagement here bc I might like to share rps in the future #this one goes a little long but I promise it's really fun and there's going to be much much more than just dueling #blueeyesking #seashaper #nameless brand #redeyesandchilifries

7 notes · View notes

anamoon63 · 1 year

Text

Well, I've run out of pictures of Appaloosa Plains and Sunlit Tides, and I'll need a little more time to build the next episodes of Time Traveler and The Cho Brothers, as both require new sets and characters that I want to work on calmly, so, in the meantime, I'll keep posting some random pictures of my sims and gameplay, outtakes and stuff, like these (unedited) pictures I took of Sunset Valley:

I'm also sharing these photos of Lucky Palms, again no filters and no editing:

It turns out that in December I got a new gaming laptop, so I copied my entire Sims 3 game with all my saves and cc there. It wasn't that complicated, just a little hassle at the beginning to get the game to detect the graphics card, because you know, you have to edit the Graphic Cards document and all that. But the game installed easy (thanks Steam) and started working properly right away. :)

Then I started copying all my current game (saves, cc and mods) from my PC to the laptop. That did take longer, maybe around three days or so, but it was worth it, because the game runs beautifully, no lag, no problems, and after almost a month of playing, I haven't had any issues.

So far, I haven't had any problems with Windows 11 either, everything works fine with it, in fact, I like it, it's quite light and pretty. :P

The Sunset Valley and Lucky Palms photos here were taken in my newly installed game. I haven't messed with the Nvidia Settings yet, but I will very soon to see if I can improve them a bit, as I don't use programs like Reshade, or Gshade or anything like that, just my photo editor. For now, this is just with the graphics settings in the game menu, all the options at maximum, still zero lag, neither in game, nor in CAS (the latter thanks in great part to Lazy Duchess' Smooth Patch, I can't thank them enough for this!)

So, the new computer arrived just in time, because my PC hardly keeps running anymore, sometimes it shuts itself off and refuses to turn on again, but now I can send it to the workshop to do the upgrades I've been wanting to do for months, without having to stop playing my game. ❤️😊

Something else I want to share with you this year are my Sims 4 pictures. Yes, I started playing it again last October, after two long years of not touching it, or was it three? 🤔I don't remember, I stopped playing it since before the pandemic, you go figure, thing is I decided to give it another chance, but I'll tell you about that in a later post. Please, brace yourselves cause I have a considerable amount of Sims 4 pictures to share with you, I hope you like them! 😉

(Of course, this doesn't mean I will leave The Sims 3. I will never ever quit The Sims 3! 😍)

P.S. Sorry for the wall of text.

#the sims 3 #sims 3 gameplay #ts3 gameplay #sims 3 simblr #sims 3 stories #los sims de ana #anamoon63 sims

25 notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 2 years

Text

To Have Loved and Lost Part Three

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: George Russell x Reader

Rating: M

Notes: Hiiiii welcome baaaaaack thank you for reaaaaadiiiiiiiing

Warnings: Angst; Gilded Age Manners™; pining; The One That Got Away; not a traditional happy ending...A lot of angst this week.

Summary: Had Mr. Russell recognized you? Your name? Surely something had jogged his memory; his expression had swirled with a darkness, the look that a ferryman cast at the sight of heavy clouds pushing in from the distance.

You were in such a miserable mood that you nearly seized on the first house you were shown to get the entire process over with. You couldn’t wait to flee New York.

But, on second thought, you knew that Franklin would hate it. That almost compelled you more deeply toward the purchase—but you reconsidered. This home would be a hub for your entire family’s business in Manhattan, not just Franklin’s. It would be the home that families were brought into for Franklin’s business contacts; it would be the home where Eleanor would meet with her suitors.

There were precisely three things wrong with the first home:

It wasn’t far enough up the avenue

It was too small

The previous owners were unknown to New York society

The four following homes that you were shown were far more expensive than the first, but more likely to suit your needs. You weren’t entirely sure what Franklin was willing to spend—at moments, you truly weren’t entirely sure if he cared about securing what was already in his coffers. A house was an investment. But putting so much in beyond the property itself—for furnishings, decoration, linens, cooking apparatus, dishes, what have you—may not have been something Franklin was interested in.

“I’ve a few notes from the house tours I took today,” You informed Franklin over the soup course. He wrinkled his nose just a little.

“Must I read them?” He sighed. You pursed your lips before glancing back at one of the attendants.

“Will you please tell Kate to fetch the small red notebook on my vanity?”

The attendant gave a small bow before hurrying from the room. You turned back to the table, taking up your glass of wine.

“How was the remainder of your work day?” You asked.

“Alright, I suppose, though...The tannery is in shambles.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It shall take a good bit of work to get it up and running again. It seems that the previous owner pried every bit of machinery and storage not explicitly agreed upon in our contract and sold them off.”

You hummed thoughtfully, swirling your wine around just a little. You couldn’t blame the previous owner. If you were in business with Franklin, you think you’d want to ruin his prospects, too. You looked up as Kate hurried back in, your notebook in her hand. You took hold of it, opening it and beginning to leaf through it for your notes.

“You seemed rather short with Mr. Russell this afternoon,” Franklin commented as you searched. You take a few moments, feigning leafing through your notebook still, despite having found your notes already.

“Did I?” You asked as lightly as you want.

“Very.”

“That was not my intention.”

“You managed not to frighten him off entirely, thank heaven.”

“What do you mean, frighten him off?”

“He’s expressed an interest in my tannery.”

“...I see,” You settled on the proper page. “How fortunate.”

You began to rattle off the aspects of the first house, the one that you nearly took—but all the while, your mind was combing through every second of your interaction that afternoon. It stuck on your mind through the stonily silent evening spent reading (you, with a book; Franklin, with the evening edition of the paper). You appreciated the lack of conversation, however. It let you think about Mr. Russell.

It felt untoward to even think of him as George. He was more than an arm's-length from you now—he was a world away.

Your mind was crowded with thoughts of him even as you readied yourself for bed. You hardly noted Kate asking you if there was anything else that you needed, and once you realized that she’d spoken, you offered a flighty little smile and a shake of your head.

“G’night, miss.”

“Goodnight, Kate…Thank you,” You tacked on, turning to look at her just as she left. She stopped just long enough to give you a small smile and nod before she shut the door fully. You sighed, leaning back in your seat and eyeing yourself in the mirror, your face bathed in candlelight. Had he recognized you? Your name? Surely something had jogged his memory; his expression had swirled with a darkness, the look that a ferryman cast at the sight of heavy clouds pushing in from the distance.

You pushed yourself up from the vanity, taking slow, measured steps over to your trunk. You knew that beneath your spare slips, stockings, and combinations, there was a small burlap sack, neatly folded and holding a bundle of correspondence and newspaper clippings. It was one of the only things that you’d brought and kept from when you’d left Stevensville to join Franklin in San Francisco. It had only been a few months after George had left—after his letters had stopped.

Your fingers curled and uncurled into your palms as you considered it. Then you dropped to your knees, shoving the lid open. With an almost ravenous madness, you pushed the piles and piles of clothing out of the way. You went still when you saw it—the dark little sack shoved into the very back corner of your trunk. When you’d left your mother's boarding house, you’d had to bundle them into the front of your corset. You’d cinched them tight, just beneath your breasts, saving them from your mother’s inevitable trunk inspection. When you’d arrived at the boarding house you’d as a break from the journey, you’d carefully worked the stack of letters away from where they were pressed to your belly still. You’d had to gently peel away an envelope stuck to your skin, and found irritation and slight indentation where the stack had been pressed to you.

You’d tied the bundle with twine and tucked them into the burlap sack then, carefully hiding them in the bottom of the trunk. It had only been unearthed time and again to add the odd newspaper clipping about George—his success, his swelling businesses. You’d reread his letters so rarely that looking through them now could feel like a fresh wound, present a shock to your system. You reached in with trembling hands, closing your fingers around the rough fabric and drawing it out onto your lap. You slowly lowered yourself back onto the floor, unable to take your eyes from the fabric.

You couldn’t open it. No matter how many times you urged your hands to, no matter how many times you tried to spur yourself into action, you couldn’t do anything but sit and stare. Why did you keep them? You should’ve gotten rid of them when he left you there. You scrabbled back on the floor then, whirling around and pushing yourself up. You ran at half tilt to the fireplace, and raised your arm to pitch. But the fabric unraveled, and you heard something clink against the floor. You froze, and slowly lowered your head to look at it. Your heart ticked up at the sight of a cufflink glistening in the firelight. You leaned down, taking up the cool metal.

You turned it back and forth in the firelight, eyes catching on the woven silver design. You remembered the night that George slipped it into your palm with a tender smile, just after you’d given him your favorite hair ribbon. You could still see it if you closed your eyes—the way he’d tucked the green fabric into his jacket pocket, then reached down and unbuttoned his cufflink. He’d leaned in, pressed a tender kiss to your cheek, and murmured, “The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

It was Shakespeare—he’d told you so. A tale of star-crossed lovers.

You’d glanced over your shoulder then and warily eyed the empty doorway to the barn before drawing George in for a kiss. He’d given it happily, and chased it with more, delighting in your smile and touch.

Now, your fingers curled around the cufflink, and your eyes filled with tears. You raised your arm again to throw the letters to the fire, but then it fell, as if your strength had simply been sapped. You dropped the bundle and the cufflink to the floor, whirling away from them as your breath caught in your chest. You drew in unsteady, shaking gasps, chest tightening as you tried and failed to air in any deeper. You braced your hands on the lid of the trunk for just a moment before you shoved it down again and lowered your shaking body to sit.

You heaved in tight, thin breaths. Your eyes swam with tears, muddying the sight of the burlap sack and the glinting of the cufflink where they still sat on the floor. You used to yearn to be free of that boarding house in Stevensville, but just now, you wanted nothing more than to return to it, to the sneaky glances and stolen kisses, and the evenings spent sneaking out and laying in the tall grass with George, gazing at the stars and murmuring tender promises.

You wanted nothing more than to open that burlap sack, find a way to lower yourself inside it, back into the past, and into his arms.

Tag list: @foxilayde ; @wretchedwisteria ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @amneris21 ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink

#George Russell x Reader #George Russell x You #George Russell/Reader #George Russell/You #George Russell fic #George Russell imagine #George Russell the Gilded Age

37 notes · View notes

phoeebsbuffay · 2 years

Text

Imagine “Star Wars” special edition: Jane Eyre.

Sweet desires.

Imagine you just left a school for girls in Coruscant as a governess. You are then hired by Mr Vader to teach his twins, Leia and Luke. What happens next? Part II.

Warnings: drama. Another part is going because I carried away again.

Recommendations: “St Jude” by Florence + the Machine.

***

Your POV.

It’s early. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but you are too restless for your bed. You dress a yellow gown and let your hair loose; since it is early, you suppose all in the household are asleep. Thus, you don’t think there’ll be no trouble to leave like that. It’s a risk, but the energy in you is too much to hold it back such an unusual want.

You hold a candle and then leave your quarters. Like a ghost, you almost float through the stairs, going outside in order to breathe the clean air. The shock between the cool temperature outside and the warmth environment you left is inevitable, giving you chills.

But you step into the mist, imperceptible, invisible. How strange that being there makes you feel like home. The silence, however, does not last long; you are taken aback when a male voice interrupts the serenity of your thoughts.

“Isn’t it not too early for you, Miss Y/N? What business I wonder brings you here in such an hour?”

The awkwardness upon which you are discovered by the man who intrigues you and whose aura you hardly have the time to contemplate entirely in a moment where you believed not to disturb anyone, makes you turn around. However, you don’t see him. The mist hides him away from your eyes, but you feel his presence nonetheless.

“Sir, do forgive me, I did not intend to…”

“There is little use to excuse your actions.” He cuts you, and the blush in your face deepens. You begin to try to tangle your long hair as the mist starts to low down and the man in black cape appears before your sight at long last. “These gardens are for your use as well.”

You don’t know what to say. You lower your eyes, heart racing as Mr Vader moves from one side to another, never too far from you. Your chest is heavy with an inexplicable tension.

“I… I thought I’d not…” you choke with words, they never seem so useless to you as they are now.

You hear his chuckle.

“You strike me like a bird who for a very long time was caged and now looks beyond the horizons for a chance to fly.” Mr Vader turns at you. You are sent chills by his closeness. “Am I mistaken in perceiving you so?”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.” You raise your head, slowly turning it to seek for his eyes. For a moment you believe to have perceived a pair of yellow irises staring at you, but how fast the gaze breaks makes you doubt of what you see.

“Oh, so it appears I have entertained a different idea in regards to you, of who you are.” Mr Vader laughs quietly.

He still surrounds you, and you detest to feel like you are a prey about to fall in the traps of a hunter. However, to deny the abrupt spark that seems to ignite each time in your heart is to incur in foolishness. But your pride and your inexperience in such matters can mislead you.

“What that would be, sir?” You tangle one hand to the other. “If your expectations remain the same of when we first met, then I lament to disappoint you.”

The man in dark cape stands behind you. You swallow, but for some reason you don’t fear him.

“How so?”

“You will not get anything celestial of me, any more than I shall get it of you: which I do not at all anticipate.” You turn abruptly to search for his eyes. There they are, the very same yellow ones you spotted minutes before. “And yet it is I who should wonder who you are. The idea I have of you does not let me sleep at night.”

“Is it so? You are such a rare individuality, Miss Y/N. There is good and bad in you.” Mr Vader leans to whisper in your ear. “Though I hardly believe you are a child of the Sith.”

Your cheeks burn.

“You’ve entered my mind. Mr Vader, I must protest.”

“Would you have willingly given me the truth when asked?”

As you tut to answer, he chuckles.

“I needed to know whether you are reliable or not.”

You understand what is not spoken: for the safety of his children. Would you be the best judge of that? Certainly not. You would’ve done the same had you been in his shoes.

“Well, I pray I am worthy of your trust.”

You think you see him smirk, but you don’t know.

“You are, indeed, too pure for this world, Y/N. We live in a planet ruled by the Sith and your concern is my trust.”

“You should not disdain of my perceptions about life, Sir. I am trying to survive.”

You detect an irony taking a shape in his thoughts, ready to booster in his tongue, perhaps aiming to hurt you.

“You see yourself as a bad man, but are you, sir? If it is the case that you are perceived as such, if all the world hated you and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved of you and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends.”

There is silence that stands in between them again. You slowly move forward to where he is, shortening the distance between you two. You stand your hand, ready to touch his cape and remove it to spot his identity. However, he grips your wrist and holds it.

“Your innocence blinds you, Y/N. Maybe ignorance is a blessing for you.”

And just like that he drops your wrist and walks off, leaving you behind feeling cold for the very first time.

***

Mr Vader’s POV.

He continues watching you. And interfering only he is impelled to. Mr. Vader’s got used to you, your merry presence that seems to dissipate each day the shadows of a longing gloom that grips onto his manor.

The man’s yellow eyes are exceedingly attentive to the impact you have in his twins: how Leia follows you everywhere, seeing you as the mother she never had; trying to reproduce your mannerisms, from your hairstyle to your vesture code. Luke too is always aiming to please you, showing you what he’s learnt from your lessons, acquiring too by extent not only your sharp wit but your sweet disposition.

He once heard the following conversation.

“My dad is a good man, Miss Y/N. He’s been often misunderstood.” Luke was telling you.

“I sense that too. I do not believe that people are entirely bad that no good can come out from someone. And even if they are, they are misleading.”

“You know what I think?” Leia meddled in the conversation. “That he needs you in his life, miss Y/N.”

“Yes!” Luke exclaimed excitedly. “Leia, you gave us a brilliant idea!”

“I am often the master mind behind our plans, brother dear.” She said with a smug on his face.

Vader sensed your embarrassment. You were about to protest, vehemently so, when he walked in. Then the room fell silent.

He knows you’ve been prompted to wake earlier, an habit he soon takes part. That is how he befriends you. But even if Mr Vader does trust in you, you have not yet seen his face.

“I sense the Force in you.” Mr Vader says one day.

“You, sir, are wrong.” The words come out so naturally that you don’t even realize. “I never possessed such a thing in me.”

He moves to where you stand and says:

“I rarely make mistakes, Y/N. You should have been trained as a Jedi instead of a governess. How powerful wouldn’t you become?”

You lift your head to see the pair of yellow irises meeting the y/c that paints yours.

“I care very little to naught when it comes to power. Where it is true I aim freedom, to see beyond the horizon so often limited to women like me, I do however content myself with who I’ve become.” You smile at him. “Do you not miss the simplicity of things, sir? I know you are not entirely bad as you like to present yourself.”

“You speak what you do not know.” Mr Vader shakes his head. “To many I am either lost or dead, Y/N.”

You are about to respond him otherwise when Mr Vader is summoned by Mrs H/N, claiming there is a letter for you. There is some awkwardness since both of you seem to have missed the breakfast and Mrs H/N is clearly wondering why you are at Mr Vader’s presence when he stated otherwise.

“Leave her be, Mrs H/N.” Says he. “I’ve summoned her to discuss some purposes that go beyond your understanding.”

The letter is given to you and Vader’s attention draws back to you. Reading your expressions and your thoughts, he is taken by an immediate concern.

“What is it, Y/N? You look troubled.”

You lower the letter after ending it and say:

“My aunt requests my presence. She is dying. May I have your permission to visit her?”

“I am surprised that after all she’s done to you, you consider attending her wishes.” He says.

You smile at him, so candid doing so.

“Sir, I’ve long forgiven her for her doings.”

Mr Vader sighs.

“Do you intend to go back?”

It’s right when you take his hand and he does not let go. For the first in a very long time, Vader allows you doing so. A sensation that is so good, so blissful, to feel your warm against his cold skin. That particular day, there are no gloves to impede him to reach out for you.

Curiously, Mr Vader is not letting go of your hand. He wants more of you, a strange and mostly unwelcoming urge that seems to resist reason.

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

You give him a squeeze in his gentle. A gesture that, simple as it may be, provides the comfort he is in need.

“I’m always coming back for you.” You assure him.

***

Your POV.

The moment you depart the manor and go back to your aunt’s household—the very same place you swore never to return—you feel an inexplicable misery take possess of your heart. You miss him.

How could it be explained this sensation so similar to grief? You haven’t seen his face for the last two years, but somehow you feel already… attached. To who he is, to the good you sense in him beneath the tons of melancholy and angst that are use to mask it.

I better expurge this sentiment off me.

Not only it is far from ethical to let whatever this is to develop towards your employer, but it is not typical of you to, uh, nurture an affection to a Sith Lord.

Yes, now you come to realize it. As you take your luggage from the carriage and start going to the house that never felt like a home to you, you start to pick up the pieces.

Yet, you stand by what you believe. What did you tell Luke the other day? That no one is that bad that can not find a spark of good inside. It makes you smile because of the countless moments you’ve witnessed him being such a good and tender father to the children you’ve grown to love.

Why am I thinking about them? Concentrate, Y/N. You must not harbor any kind of romantic feeling for the man. Specially a Sith Lord.

You sigh. Decided to bury deep inside such sentiments of affection, you now occupy yourself in meeting the woman who’ve always been more like an enemy than a family.

It is at least unique to you that you experience your own drama in the midst of bigger events that are shaking Coruscant. Nonetheless, no Sith Lord, no Emperor or whatever good force that is out there to resist the dark forces can help you now.

As your aunt lies close to dying, new truths come out to you. Your cousin joined the Sith in your absence, much to his mother’s consternation, and died serving the cause to the emperor when prosecuting the rebels. His sisters were married away, but, by a misfortune, one died in childbirth and the other is in a far away galaxy. All leads rather reluctantly to you. Because you’re the closest relative.

“Aunt.” You address her, pitying her poor state. You are half heartily expecting to her her regrets about those years where she treated you unkindly.

“Y/N.” Even close to death she remains proud. “What have you become? You creature of the Sith should’ve been sent to them.”

The accusation still hurts you.

“Why’d you say such a thing?” You cannot help but wonder.

“Your father was a vile man. It’s from him you’ve inherited all of this…” she coughs. “But since you are here, it’s still in you. It is only by law I am commanded to give you this inheritance.”

“If I recall, this was all you got by marriage to my uncle.” You remind her bitterly. “Hence why I am here.”

“You insolent girl.”

You try to sympathize with her, but admittedly the offenses attributed to you only hurt you more. In the end, though, as she comes to give her last breath you say:

“You know what, aunt? I frankly wish you well. Because when you get to the other side, a miserable conscience is all you will have. I pray the Maker you are in good terms with yourself. I shall not get myself to the same level as you are. But what you gave me… You are giving it back.”

One last agonizing look at you and she chokes. Where before there was life in her eyes, now there is no more. You put your hands around your face and weep.

Not because of her death, but what she did in life to you. Forced to deal with your demons, it seems you are surrounded by every sort of misery. The agent of Empire watches you emotionless, obliged to witness everything before acknowledging the transference of the credits and all else to you.

“Looks like you are rich now, Miss Y/LN.”

You don’t pay him attention until the door is open and a cold breeze steps inside. It’s when you simply know it’s him. But your spirits are too shaken to associate his presence to the fact he may have followed you. Or that the agent of the Empire had contacted him for purposes beyond your knowledge.

What you are thankful for is that he’s there for you. Before Mr Vader takes a seat by your side, you hold him close.

“I’m here, dear one. I wouldn’t let you go through this by yourself.” He rubs your back.

“She does seem to think I’m a Sith somehow.” You sob. “Whatever have I done for being treated as such?!”

“If you were one, I don’t think we’d be in this place”, he muses it; you can feel the side smirk on his lips, picturing the sarcasm in his tongue matching in his yellow eyes. “She is dead now, though. She cannot hold power over you anymore. Let her go.”

By saying so, he senses the anger building inside you. He does neither encourage or discourage you, rather comforting you. In fact, Mr Vader comes to realize that to see you distressed makes his heart ache.

You cling onto him as you weep. But eventually, when you raise, his hood had fallen—and perhaps he’d not even notice.

What you see scares and amazes you at the same time. Slowly, you touch his face, your fingertips stroking his cheek. Your eyes linger at his golden curls, the scar over his left eye and a few others under his neck.

“You see me.”

You smile, acknowledging him at last.

“Yes, Mr. Vader, I see you.”

“You don’t fear me?” He inquires you, perplexed.

“No.”

You hold his hand tightly as your eyes lock. His chest goes up and down in tension, but you lean your head against him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever feared you, Mr. Vader.”

(To be continue)

#Star Wars imagine #imagine Star Wars #Star Wars #Darth Vader x you #Darth Vader #Darth Vader x y/n #Darth Vader x reader #Jane Eyre #leia Skywalker #Luke skywalker #Princess Leia

27 notes · View notes