#since when he found her he was like 18 so he refused to be called baba lmaoo or shushu

[xeraeus]

Wenyan gege and bairui

#i really do need to finish some of thes e jfhhfhf #ima be real he’s technically her father at this point l o l #she eventually shifts to calling him baba #since when he found her he was like 18 so he refused to be called baba lmaoo or shushu #now man is like 30 lmaoooo baba

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 60 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Your bachelorette outing and Bradley's bachelor party are both hosted by the same person, but they couldn't be more different. Spending an evening at home with Noah is reminiscent of your babysitting days, but now he's asking you some pertinent questions.

Warnings: pregnancy topics, swearing, smut, drinking, angst, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Natasha was outside in her SUV on the driveway, ready to pick you up for your bachelorette outing. You refused to call it a bachelorette party since it was just the two of you going out for the evening, but Bradley made sure his best friend knew to spare no expense when it came to anything you wanted.

"It's just pedicures and pottery," you whispered against Bradley's lips with a smile as he held you close so he could feel your round belly against his body. "I'll be home in a few hours."

He grunted softly, kissing you a little deeper before releasing your lips. "We'll still miss you," he murmured, letting his hands roam along your hips while Noah sat on the area rug and worked on one of the new coloring books you picked up for him. "And don't overdo it." When Natasha started honking her horn, he let his forehead rest on your shoulder. "She's the worst."

You just laughed and kissed his cheek as you said, "She's the best, and you know it, Daddy."

It would have been impossible to dispute that fact. She was the one who took care of you when Bradley wasn't stateside. "Go have fun."

"Bye, Mommy!" Noah said, popping up to give you a hug when Bradley released you. He scooped his son up since he didn't want you lifting anything, and you gave Noah a kiss on the forehead.

"Have fun with Daddy," you told him, kissing him once more before heading outside to Nat's idling SUV. 

Bradley stood on the porch with Noah and waved until you were out of sight, and then Noah asked, "Can we get Mommy a coloring book?"

"Hey," Bradley said, nudging the door open while also making sure Skittles didn't get outside without her leash on. "That's a great idea, Bub. Maybe a Princess coloring book? You can give it to her for the wedding?"

His son looked so much like a tiny version of himself, and he had to stifle his laughter as Noah nodded stoically and said, "Yeah, she'd like that. I have so many great ideas."

Bradley took him back inside, and they ended up stretched out on the floor together. Noah continued with his masterpiece while Bradley started searching for options on his phone. After a few minutes, he found an independent shop that made coloring books with different themes based on photos that you send to them. "Do you like this?" he asked his son, holding up his phone.

Noah looked at the sample pages as Bradley scrolled through them. He nodded and said, "Mommy is prettier than that."

"She absolutely is," Bradley replied as he realized the wedding was in a week and didn't know if a custom book could even be completed in that short amount of time. "Let me see if we can get something like this for her. If not, we can always save it for her birthday."

His son started to pout at the mere mention of having to wait longer for it, so Bradley started typing up a message to the owner of the shop, hoping that he'd be able to explain that it was for his wedding. Once that was done, he checked the time and asked, "Do you need a snack before dinner?"

"Ants on logs," Noah replied without missing a beat. Bradley had no problem with the healthy snacks you somehow tricked the two of them into eating, but he was always told he never got the peanut butter proportions right.

"Yeah, okay. I can try to make them the way you like-"

"Mommy left some in the fridge."

Bradley chuckled as he stood up, coaxing Noah to abandon his coloring project for the time being. "Of course she did. She's the best." Somehow even when you weren't here, you had everything covered.

-----------------------------

"Okay, so if you could ditch Bradley and marry a celebrity, who would you pick?"

You burst out laughing in the pedicure chair next to Natasha with your hands resting on the roundest part of your belly. "Who said I would? Even if I could?" She gave you a look followed by an eye roll before you said, "You'll laugh at me, so I don't even want to say my answer."

"Just say it," she prompted as you dragged your foot through the warm water.

You groaned and said, "I like all the older, DILF-y actors."

Natasha started cackling as you covered your eyes with your hands. "You have a type!" she said amidst her laughter. "And your type is Rooster!"

You thought back to all the time you wasted with Greyson and other guys your age and grimaced. "I don't think that was always my type. It's a more recent development, and I'm not mad about it." You moved your hand on your belly and added, "Boy suck. Men are at least marginally better."

"Well," she said, leaning a little closer to you like she had a secret. "You found a good one. Or rather, I kind of found you for him. But regardless, he's a keeper. Kind of because he has Noah."

"Mostly because he has Noah," you told her, and then both of you were laughing.

After your nails were painted a vibrant purple, Natasha took you out for dinner and let you eat until you were full. You could tell your body and appetite were changing by the day, but you refused to feel self conscious about it in front of her. The two of you were sharing a slice of cake for dessert when you said, "He really did plan almost everything for the wedding. All I did was help him pick out matching suits for him and Noah to wear. And I picked out some flowers and my dress, but that's it."

Natasha hummed as she took another forkful of dessert. "I'm telling you, he'll always be good like that. He's a planner. Very responsible."

You felt silly telling her what was on your mind, but you said it anyway. "He pays my credit card bill. Not that I spend a lot! I try not to! I usually just buy groceries and things for Noah." She nodded like your words weren't as startling as you thought they were. "I kind of wanted to surprise him as a thank you, but if I buy something, he'll see it on the credit card statement."

Maybe you should have been wary of the smirk that found its way to her lips when Natasha said, "What if I rally the boys one night this week and take him out for a little bachelor party?"

"Oh," you said softly. "You'd do that? Just something lowkey?"

"Super lowkey," she agreed with a nod.

You could easily imagine them going to Top Golf or out for some drinks. "I think he might really like that."

"Or.... and just hear me out," she said, holding up her hands innocently after handing her credit card to the waiter. "Or, you let me absolutely roast him for the night."

You studied her face; how bad could it be? She was Bradley's best friend after all. Even if she was giving him a hard time, she'd probably make it fun. "What did you have in mind?" you asked as the two of you left the restaurant and headed for the pottery boutique down the block.

"A few things I'm going to need your approval for," she replied casually. And while you worked on making yourself a mug that said Noah's Mommy, you listened to Natasha's not-so-lowkey plans for Thursday night. By the time your mug actually looked like a mug, you gave her full approval.

"I almost feel bad about this," you told her with a laugh.

"I don't."

-------------------------------

The following evening after Noah was in bed, Bradley set you up for a nice shower while he cleaned up the kitchen from the chicken enchiladas you made for dinner. When Nat called him, he held his phone to his shoulder with his cheek and kept working.

He answered the call and asked, "Hey, what's up?"

"Your bachelor party with me and the guys starts at six o'clock on Thursday evening."

He laughed in response. "It's funny that this is the first time I'm hearing about it."

Bradley could practically feel her rolling her eyes through the phone. "Just be ready to go."

"Ready for what?" he asked, knowing better than to just trust her with this. The dating app was one thing, and that had turned out great in the end, but he wasn't going to blindly go with her on this.

"Uhhh... just some stuff."

"Natasha."

"Bradley."

"What did you do?"

There was a brief pause before she said, "Just be ready for dinner, booze and some strippers."

With a deep sigh, Bradley closed his eyes and said, "I'm going to have to check with my wife-to-be about the strippers, Nat." You had to know by now that you had nothing to worry about, and he wasn't even all that keen on going to a strip club, but he didn't want you to be upset.

"She knows the plan."

He froze as he loaded the dishwasher. "She does?"

Natasha laughed, and Bradley swore he felt his skin crawl. "She does. Be ready for six o'clock on Thursday."

"We have work on Friday-" 

She already ended the call. Bradley finished cleaning up when he heard you getting out of the shower. "God damn it, Nat," he muttered as he turned off the kitchen lights and made his way back to the bedroom where you were all wrapped up in a towel.

"Hi, Daddy."

He groaned at your words and your little smirk. "Hey, Baby. Can we talk for a minute?"

Your eyebrows shot up as you held your towel around you a little tighter. "What's wrong? Is it something about the wedding? Did the marriage license not go through? We only have six days."

"No, no," he promised, reaching for you. "It's not that. It's... I just got off the phone. With Nat."

You looked relieved as you leaned against him. "Good. I was worried for a second."

Bradley didn't quite know how to approach this topic now that he was here. Natasha would be as tenacious as a junkyard dog about her plans, so he had to say something. "You don't have anything to worry about."

You laughed softly. "That sounds nice."

He cleared his throat and said, "Nat called about my bachelor party night?" 

It came out more like a question than a statement, but you just nodded and said, "Dinner and drinks and the strip club."

"Yeah," he rasped. "You approved this whole thing?"

"Mmhmm. To be fair, it was all her idea. I just told her it was okay."

Bradley tipped your chin so you were looking up at him, your face fresh and perfect after your shower. "If this plan is not okay with you, then I'm not going."

"It's okay with me," you replied easily. "I trust you."

He studied your face. "I feel like I'm going to end up babysitting everyone on a work night. Two days before the wedding."

You snorted in response. "You'll have fun. And so will everyone else. You should go."

"Yeah, I'm going," he groaned. "Nat will just have the guys drag me out if I don't go willingly. But I don't really care about looking at strippers. I got you and your perfect tits right here at home."

You didn't stop him when he slowly tugged your towel from your fingers and pulled it open. And yeah, your tits looked perfect, but so did the swell of your pregnant belly and your soft skin. He was hard as soon as the towel hit the floor. 

"Daddy," you whined softly, shivering in his arms. It was December, and the nights were chilly in San Diego; you had taken to snuggling with him even more than usual in your sleep. "Now you need to warm me up."

"My pleasure," he replied, scooping you up and dropping you carefully onto the king sized bed that you picked out for the room. "Let me start right here," he whispered before he kissed you softly, covering your body gently with his. "Feeling warmer?"

You shifted beneath him, spreading your legs wider so he was nestled against your pussy, his cock straining against his jeans zipper. "A little bit," you whispered innocently. 

Bradley smirked, and when he brought his hand up to stroke your breast, he said, "I told you, I got these perfect tits right here."

"Bradley," you giggled as his fingers skimmed along your skin, but when he stroked his thumb across your tightly furled nipple, you arched your back and made a raspy gasping sound. Your eyes went wide as you looked up at him. "Oh my god," you moaned.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling his hand away, but you were already nodding vigorously. 

"It felt really good." The words rushed right from your lips as you rolled your hips up to meet his. "Different, I guess. I can't explain it."

When he rubbed your nipple between his thumb and index finger, he smirked. You were instantly squirming and moaning, reaching for his zipper with one hand and his hair with the other. Your eyes were wild even though he was being gentle, and he dipped his head down to whisper in your ear. "You're extra sensitive right now. It's the pregnancy hormones." He plucked and stroked as you started panting. "God damn, Princess. You like that?"

"Yes!" Your voice already sounded broken, and he'd barely touched you.

"Shh. Keep quiet like a good girl." But his words and hand seemed to have the opposite effect on you, because you just got louder. Bradley reached down to where you had his cock free from his zipper and pulled your hand up to his lips. He kissed your fingers before shoving them a little rough into your mouth. "You have to be quiet if you want me to play with you."

You moaned around your own fingers but nodded your head, and at least you were quieter now as Bradley kissed his way from your neck down to your tits. He didn't know how he was going to manage you when there were two kids in the house trying to sleep, but at the moment, he didn't really care. You were going to be his wife in a few short days. That thought alone had him bucking his cock against the bedding as he ran his mustache along your peaked nipple, inhaling your wildflower scent.

When he pulled your nipple into his mouth and sucked, he could tell your breasts were already a little bit bigger than before. Soon you'd be bigger everywhere. Getting even more sensitive by the day. He was painfully hard right now, listening to your muffled screams and tasting you. He licked and sucked until your tits were both damp from his mouth and overstimulated from his mustache. 

When you started bucking up, Bradley eased his hand down to cup your pussy and found that you were soaked. He couldn't remember Meredith getting quite like this as he dipped his middle finger into your slick and easing it down to your hole.

"Daddy," you gasped as you pulled your fingers from your mouth. "I'm going to come."

You looked shocked by your statement as you sank down around his finger. He could already feel your tight pussy fluttering around him as he whispered, "You want me to make it so good?"

His only answer was a whimper as you bit your lip, and he knew he'd make sure you were always taken care of in every way. Carefully, he added a second finger and started to circle your clit with his thumb. You were shaking a bit, your pretty tits bouncing softly as he ran his nose down the valley between your breasts. 

"Be a good girl. You know where to put those fingers, Princess," he coaxed, watching you slip them between your lips. Then he let you have his mouth on your tits again, while his hand worked at your pussy. He carefully drew a shaking orgasm out of you as you slobbered on your own fingers, not stopping until he was afraid you'd be too far gone soon.

"Daddy," you whined around your fingers as he ran his tongue flat across your nipple.

"Let me fuck you," he begged, realizing he was already close and needing to be inside you. "Please, Baby."

You reached for his cock and guided him home, and he fucked you with his jeans barely pulled down, coming inside you after just a few strokes. You were the picture of sated perfection with his cum oozing out of your pussy and your wet fingers skimming along your swollen belly and breasts. You were his young, pristine babysitter and his pregnant wife-to-be and everything in between. "I love you."

"Keep me warm all night, Daddy."

---------------------------

As you sent Bradley off with Natasha, you shared a conspiratorial look with her. You only felt slightly bad for keeping the bachelor party plans to yourself, and ultimately it made you feel good when Bradley went out for the night in an old pair of jeans and an uninspired shirt. He didn't look the part of a man who wanted to try to dazzle some strippers, and you loved him for it. 

"Bye, Bub," he said, kneeling to kiss Noah where he stood at your side. "Be good for Mommy." Then he stood and kissed you deeply. "I won't be out late, okay?"

"Stay out as late as you want," you told him, running your fingers along his cheek as he pulled away from you. "Just don't have a hangover on Saturday."

He smiled and focused on your face even as Nat and the guys yelled at him from Javy's car in the driveway. "Our wedding day. It'll be perfect. Like you."

"Go," you told him with a laugh even as you had butterflies in your belly. "Have fun. We'll be here when you get home."

With one more kiss, he was off and jogging down the walkway. You watched him climb into the backseat, then they all waved at you as Javy backed out of the driveway with Natasha in the front seat. You were wondering how long it would be until Bradley called you to tell you he had in fact been taken to see a bunch of male strippers. The guys had apparently all been so excited when Natasha mentioned the strip club, she had a hard time holding in her laughter. The plan all along was that she'd take Bradley and the rest of them to dinner and then to The Tiger's Cage- San Diego's premier male review.

But you didn't hear from them at all while you and Noah ate macaroni and cheese together. You still didn't hear a word as the two of you took Skittles for a short walk to look at Christmas lights. You even let Noah dip his hands in green paint to make a Christmas tree art project to hang on the refrigerator, but nobody called or texted you.

"Mommy?" Noah asked as you got him changed into his dinosaur pajamas. "Are you going to adopt me?"

You smiled and kissed him on his chubby cheek. "I am," you promised. But when you looked at his face, his brow was pinched with worry.

"Is it going to hurt?"

"Oh, Noah," you said with a surprised laugh, pulling him into your arms and holding him against his growing younger sibling. "Not at all! It won't feel like anything."

"Then why are you going to do it?" he asked, face muffled by your shoulder.

You soothed his back with your hand, considering his question. For all intents and purposes, you really were his mom. Bradley added you to his will; if anything happened to him, Noah was solely yours. "I kind of want to have a little piece of paper with an official signature that says we get to be together forever. Does that sound okay?"

"That's adoption?" he asked. 

"That's adoption."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed with a little shrug before climbing into bed. "Can I sleep with Skittles again?"

The pup appeared in the doorway, always excited to hear her name. "She can stay in here until Daddy gets home." You set the dog in bed with him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead as he yawned. "I love you."

"Love you, Mommy." He was half asleep as you turned on his night light and left the room. When you checked your phone, you smiled, having finally received the message you were waiting for. 

Bradley Bradshaw: Nat brought us to The Tiger's Cage. My name is on the marquee. It says CONGRATULATIONS DADDY BRADSHAW

You were doubled over in laughter, holding your belly and trying not to wet yourself. Because he also sent a picture. All of the guys were lined up under the marquee sign, and you were pleased to see that they all looked like they were being good sports about the entire thing. Bradley was the only one who looked slightly mortified.

You texted back Go have fun, Daddy Bradshaw!

Natasha sent you some random photos as you got ready for bed. You were surprised Jake was there, given your history with him, but even he looked like he was having fun. You laughed at a picture of Bradley drinking something pink and blended, and then the photos stopped. 

You wondered what was going on, but you kept yourself busy. Bradley told you not to clean up, promising to take care of everything tomorrow night before the wedding in the backyard on Saturday afternoon. Since you had the time and the privacy, you tried on your wedding dress one last time, sliding the fabric along your legs and zipping it up your side. You grabbed your purple paper crown, which was looking a lot worse for the wear now, and set it on your head. 

When you looked in the mirror, you smiled. The dress fit like a dream and hugged your bump. The crown looked fun at the moment, but you wouldn't wear it on Saturday; you were pretty sure Bradley considered it a 'bedroom' item at this point anyway. Mostly, you looked happy. Like someone who was accepted in this perfect place. Like a woman who was needed here. And you needed the Bradshaw boys to be your family.

You wore the dress around for a few minutes before carefully unzipping it and getting ready for bed. It was late now, but you requested the day off tomorrow, and you wanted to see Bradley when he got home from his bachelor party. After you checked on Noah and Skittles, you curled up on the living room couch. 

Every time you stopped to think about the wedding, you got a little anxious. When you asked Bradley what he had planned for dinner for the reception, he just told you he had everything under control. He said all you had to do was show up with some sort of wedding vows, but he didn't tell you anything that he had planned. 

You dozed off on the couch, somehow still exhausted all the time, and you had no idea how late it was when you woke up to the sound of laughter and a key in the front door.

"You smell like Axe body spray. I can't believe someone is marrying you."

"Jesus fuck, Nat. I smell like Axe because you took me to see male strippers."

"Well, I know I had a great time tonight," Natasha cackled as she guided Bradley inside, and you stood up with your hand clasped over your mouth. He was a swaying mess, and he was holding a huge wad of cash and a bag from a convenience store.

"Princess," he crooned softly when he saw you, and your heart skipped a beat at the look in his eyes.

"Hi, Daddy."

And then he was on you, so gentle in his overindulgence, it was almost surprising. He was looking around like he wasn't sure what to do with everything he was holding, trying to touch your belly.

"I'll see you on Saturday," Natasha said with a smile as she closed the door behind her, and then you were alone with him. 

"What's in the bag? Are why are you holding a roll of cash?" you asked as you guided him to the couch. 

He sat down hard and handed everything to you as you stood between his splayed legs. "The strippers were dudes. I made Nat and Javy stop so I could get you some Skittles. I'm really drunk. Can we get married soon?"

When you looked in the bag you found six packs of your favorite candy. "Wow, you must be very intoxicated if you bought a pack of Sour Skittles too."

"Did I?" he asked before stretching out on the couch. "Shit. I'll eat them. Come here."

You sat on the floor next to him and handed him the bag of Sour Skittles as you counted the nearly seven hundred dollars you were holding. "Bradley, where did this come from?" you asked in alarm.

But he just crunched on some of the candy in response. "Oh, these are fucking nasty. Baby, can we please get married?" he rambled, dumping more Skittles into his mouth.

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him there. "Were getting married in like thirty-six hours. Now can you please tell me where you got this money from?"

"Huh?" he grunted like he'd never seen it before. "Oh. Oh, that." Then he casually dumped the rest of the Sour Skittles and chewed them up while you laughed and shook his arm.

"Bradley!"

He swallowed and dropped the wrapper on the floor before pulling you up onto the couch with him. "Jake got tips for stripping, and Nat made him give me the cash."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked with in shock as you tried to settle into a comfortable position on him.

"They tried to get Daddy Bradshaw up on stage. I pointed to Jake and said it was him."

You couldn't stop laughing now. "But you got the cash?"

"Yeah," he said, eyes drifting closed as he propped his arm behind his head. "A wedding gift. For the honeymoon."

Just as you settled your head on his chest, you popped back up again. "Are we going on a honeymoon?" You started to feel a little apprehensive about going away for an extended trip without Noah while you were pregnant, but Bradley brought his big hand up to settle on your back as he snuggled in a little more.

"Next year. After the baby's born. Anywhere you want to go."

He really did kind of smell like Axe body spray, and he definitely needed to take a shower, but you let him hold you for a few minutes while he slept.

------------------------------

Part 61 will be their wedding! Thanks so much for reading and letting me share this family with you! We're almost to the finish line. Thanks @caitsymichelle13 for the request about the coloring book; stay tuned. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #the younger kind

[krirebr]

More Than This 1

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x f!reader, Steve Rogers & f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

Summary: Arranged marriages have always been used to solidify business deals among the ultra-wealthy. Your stepfather wants to be in business with Harlan Thrombey, so now it's your turn.

Warnings: Heavy angst, age difference, adult themes, institutional sexism, a very brief conversation about the possibility of abuse, explicit language, the slooowest burn - Warnings will be added as needed for subsequent parts. All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Masterlist

A/N: And here we go! A huge thanks to @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me nail down some of the worldbuilding details and @paperweight91 for reading so much of this and especially telling me how to fix the scene that refused to be fixed. You're both the best!!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. Even if it's just screeching at me. As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

It was uncommon to be called to your stepfather’s office. The high rise on the edge of Studio City had housed the heads of his family since the silent film era, give or take a remodel and expansion or five. You’d only been here a handful of times, mostly left out of the family business. When his assistant opened the door for you, you were surprised to see a small group of people, all in expensive business attire, surrounding your stepdad, Joseph Rogers, at his desk. Even more surprising was the figure standing in the corner, staring out the window – your mother. 

“Mom?” you asked, unable to hide your confusion. She just gave you a tight smile in return and turned her attention to her husband.

“Sweetheart,” he called to you. It’s what he’d called you since you’d first met him as a child and it had always felt patronizing and empty. You were well aware that you were an annoyance he’d been saddled with when he’d married your mother for her late first husband’s connections. Eighteen years later, you wished he’d drop the pretense already. “Please, have a seat,” he gestured to the leather chair in front of his large oak desk. 

You sat down across from him. “What’s going on?” you asked, an uneasy feeling building in your gut.

“Congratulations are in order,” he said, smiling at you. “You’re engaged.”

Years of experience at bullshit industry and society parties had you pasting on a benign smile. This was your fourth, no fifth engagement, the first one dating all the way back to when you were 10. They’d all dissolved for one reason or another, the business arrangements at the heart of them disintegrating too. But looking around the room at all the extra people in attendance, you knew better than to dismiss this outright. You were older now. Many of your friends from school had found themselves married as part of business deals in the last few years. Love matches were uncommon in the circles you frequented. There wasn’t much patience for love when this much money was at stake. But still, just because it was expected, that didn’t make you any more ready for your turn. 

“That’s wonderful,” you said, putting all your effort into keeping your tone even. “May I ask whom I’m engaged to?” 

“Ransom Drysdale,” Joseph said. “He’s the grandson of Harlan Thrombey, the mystery writer. We’ve been trying to secure the movie rights to his works for years and this should finally cement it. It’s fantastic news for our family and this studio. The joining of our families should create many opportunities for all of us. Ransom is one of the most eligible bachelors in Boston. You should feel very lucky.”

Lucky was the last thing you felt right now, but you kept your face schooled as you ran through your mental Rolodex to try to figure out if you had any social connections to this man. The fact that he lived on the other side of the country made it less likely but not impossible. 

“So,” he continued, sliding a stack of papers across his desk to you, “all you need to do is sign and initial the contract where it’s marked, and we can get started finalizing the details for the wedding next month.”

At that, all your poise disappeared and the smile dropped off your face. “Next month?”

Joseph nodded. “It’s important to strike while the iron is hot with deals like this. So go ahead and sign so that we can all move on to the next stage.”

Your heart thumped wildly in your chest. This was happening. This one was real. “Shouldn’t I read it first?” you asked, somewhat desperately.

He shook his head, “No need,” he said, gesturing to the man you recognized as one of the family lawyers standing beside him. “Julian has already gone through it with a fine-toothed comb. All of our interests are well represented. It’s all in legalese anyway. Impossible to understand if you aren’t a lawyer.” He chuckled and many of the people standing around the desk, staring at you, joined him. 

“I just–” you stammered. You didn’t know what to do, but you knew you couldn’t pick up that pen.

Irritation bloomed on your stepfather’s face. “Lydia!” he called. 

Your mother stopped staring out the window and stepped up to your chair. “Honey,” she said gently, putting her hand on your back. “This will be such a good thing. And then we can get to all the fun parts of planning the wedding!” She picked up the pen and held it out to you. You took a moment to look at her. Her features were drawn and her eyes looked exhausted. She’d looked that way as long as you could remember. It did nothing to reassure you. 

You glanced at the door behind you. You knew you weren’t getting out of this room without signing the contract. You took a deep breath and took the pen from your mother. There was nothing else to do. No other choice. You quickly flipped through the papers, initialing where indicated and signing the last page. Your hand was shaking so badly you weren’t sure any of it was legible.

When you turned over the last page, Joseph clapped his hands together. “Excellent!” He took a large binder off the desk and passed it over to you. “We’ve put some information together for you on your new fiance. Ransom will be in town next week to take you to dinner so that the two of you can get to know each other. Now, I’m sure you want to go celebrate, so we won’t keep you any longer.”

At the clear dismissal, you stood up. Many people in the room offered their congratulations and you nodded to them, forcing a strained smile. Then you made your way out on shaky legs, needing to see the one person who might be able to help you process what had just happened.

You’d been six years old when you and your mother had moved into the Rogers mansion. You were terrified, already able to sense Joseph’s indifference towards you. But your comfort during that time, and all the time after, had been his son, Steve. Twelve years old, still reeling from the death of his mother and just as deeply lonely as you, he’d named himself your protector, shielding you from his father’s annoyance and your mother’s sorrow. He guarded you from monsters when you woke up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and would stare down your bullies on the playground. You were very quickly inseparable. 

When you became engaged the first time when you were ten, sixteen-year-old Steve had taken you out for ice cream, telling you not to worry too much, there was so much time before anything would happen and that everything would be ok. When the arrangement had fallen apart, he’d hugged you and whispered in your ear, “See? I’m always right.”

That was the memory you couldn’t stop thinking about as you let yourself into your stepbrother’s apartment, using the key he’d given you on the day he’d moved in. He wasn’t in his front room, so you moved all the way to the back, to the spare room he used as an art studio. You lightly knocked on the doorframe as you entered, trying not to startle him. He was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at a half-finished painting, but looked over his shoulder as soon as he heard you. There was a warm smile on his face, but it dropped as soon as he took in your expression. “What happened?” he asked as you flopped down onto his couch.

“I think I might be really fucked, Steve,” you said quietly, your hands still shaking. You couldn’t get them to stop.

“What happened?” he asked again, more forcefully this time, as he dragged a chair from the corner of the room so that he could sit right across from you.

“Your dad, he–” You stopped and shook your head. Steve’s face darkened. “I’m engaged,” you said with a helpless shrug.

“Okay,” he said evenly. “That might not be the most dire thing. You’ve been engaged before. Nothing ever comes of it.”

You sighed. “They’ve set a date this time.”

“Oh,” was all he could say at first, surprise on his face. “That’s new.”

“Yeah.” you nodded. “A month from now.”

That had Steve sitting up straight. “The hell?!”

“It’s happening this time. I can feel it.”

“Hey, no,” he said, reaching out to touch your arm. “Let me try to talk some sense into him. Buy you some time. He might listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Everything’s already signed. They made me sign. I don’t think there’s any getting out of it.”

“He give you a name?”

“Ransom Drysdale.”

Before he was able to stop himself, Steve grimaced.

“Fuck,” you muttered, briefly covering your face with your hands.

“No, it’s– I’ve only met him once or twice, ok? I don’t actually know anything about him.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“He’s–” Steve paused, clearly trying to find the words that wouldn’t upset you even more, “a strong personality.” He looked at you carefully. “And he’s older than you. Older than me, even.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching for your bag and taking out the folder. “They gave me this.”

You handed it to Steve and he paged through it. “This is intense. Do you think they gave him one about you?”

You shrugged. “Dunno. Probably. Can’t imagine it says anything interesting.”  

Steve nodded, seriously. “It’s probably pretty thin. Just the story of that time you completely freaked out when you weren’t allowed to bring Mr. BunBun to school with you.”

You grabbed the pillow next to you and hurled it at him. “You’re such a dick!” you laughed. “I’m very upset!”

He batted the pillow back at you and cackled when it hit you in the chest. “He deserves to know the kind of person he’s marrying. The kind who throws a five-alarm tantrum when she’s separated from her stuffed bunny.”

“I was eight, asshole!” You laughed again but then your brain caught on something Steve had said. “Holy shit, he’s marrying me. I’m getting married. I don’t know anything about him. He could be anyone. You don’t even like him! He could hurt me and–” 

“Hey, no!” Steve interrupted quickly. “I might not know much, but I know that. He won’t do that. I’m sure of it. And if he ever even tried, I’d be there so fast. They’d never find his body.”

“Will he be kind to me?” you asked quietly. He opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him. “Be honest with me. Please.”

He sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” you said, trying so hard not to cry, “I guess at least now we know exactly how your dad feels about me.”

Steve closed his eyes and quietly said your name. When he opened them, there was a resolved look on his face that was painfully familiar. His ‘I’m going to fix this’ face. He was intractable when he got like this. He set his jaw. “I’m going to talk to Dad.”

You shook your head. “Steve.” Your stepfather was just as intractable as his son. This would only result in a shouting match that wouldn’t go anywhere.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said resolutely.

All you could do was say “OK,” with a wan smile, knowing it was a lie. You lay down on the couch and curled up on your side. “Do you mind if I stay here for a bit?”

“Of course not. Lola good on her own for a while?”

You nodded. Your little dog was probably asleep in her kennel. “Yeah, for a while.”

“Do you mind if I keep working on this?” he asked, gesturing to his painting.

“I like watching you paint,” you said, trying to find comfort in the familiarity of something you’d done since you were small.

He stood up and turned back to his easel, and you did your best to focus on watching him paint and not think about how, if this went through, you’d have to move to Boston and you wouldn’t get to have this time with your brother anymore.

As expected, Steve’s talk with Joseph yielded no results when it came to your future. The only thing it seemed to have any effect on was their own relationship, Steve announcing to you that he was no longer speaking to his father the next time you saw him. You hadn’t expected anything else.

For your part, you spent the next week vacillating between going overboard preparing for your first meeting with Ransom—pouring over your folder on him, making salon appointments, shopping for a dress that would make the right impression—and pretending your problems didn’t exist. As such, the day of the dinner still snuck up on you. You were a nervous wreck. 

The plan was for him to pick you up at your apartment, but an hour before he was supposed to arrive, you got a text from an unfamiliar number telling you to meet him at the restaurant instead. 

So now you sat at the table, alone, in a new dress with your hair done. You’d arrived ten minutes early, and he was now 20 minutes late. You took a deep breath, staring at the empty seat across from you. He would show up. He had to. 

Another ten minutes passed and, as you waived off the server for a third time, you let yourself consider what it would mean if your future husband had stood you up. You should go. It’d be pathetic to stay. And even if he did show up after you’d gone, it’d make a point. Show you had a backbone. You should definitely go.

Just as your hand began to inch toward your handbag on the table, the hostess came through, leading a tall, handsome man to your table. She stopped beside you and then ducked away. The man looked at you critically. He said your name like a question and, when you nodded, he sat down. He didn’t introduce himself, but he could only be Ransom. 

He was dressed nicely in an expensive sweater and slacks, but much more casually than you were and looking around the restaurant than most of the other people there, too. And when he sat down, you could see the places in his sweater where it was threadbare or torn. You tried very hard to not take it as a sign of how he felt about this dinner, felt about you.

You cleared your throat to say something, you weren’t entirely sure what when he glanced at your glass of water. “You don’t drink?”

“No, I do,” you said, but when he smirked you realized how that sounded. “I can,” you amended, but that sounded odd too. “I mean, I don’t have anything against it. I was just waiting for you.”

He snorted. “Well, aren’t you polite?”  His tone made it feel like the worst thing you could possibly be. He flagged down the server and ordered a glass of the Macallan 18, then huffed impatiently while you asked questions about their wine selection. You didn’t know how he could be half an hour late and make you feel bad for taking your time ordering. 

Once you’d finally made your choice and the server left, you tried not to squirm as he gave you a once-over with his eyes. You felt disappointing without really knowing why. You tried to shrug off the feeling, but then Ransom said, “How old even are you?” with scorn in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Twenty-four,” you tried to say with confidence.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered.

You did your best not to shrink in on yourself. Maybe he was just nervous too. It was a weird situation. But, “Didn’t they tell you about me?”

He snorted again and rolled his eyes. “Gave me a whole binder. I never opened it.”

You looked down at your empty place setting, embarrassed. You’d studied every inch of what they’d given you, hoping to show him how seriously you were taking this and he couldn’t care less. “Oh,” was all you were able to say. 

He grinned a little meanly. “You got one too, didn’t you? Don’t tell me you’ve memorized facts about me that you were ready to rattle off to impress me.”

“No,” you growled out. You weren’t going to let him make you feel small just for trying to show interest in the person you were going to have to spend the rest of your life with.

He swiped one hand over his mouth and chin. “My god,” he muttered, “this whole thing is fucking ridiculous.”

The waitress came back and set down your drinks. Ransom immediately took a large gulp of his scotch. You itched to do the same, but you suddenly felt like proving a point. Even if you weren’t entirely sure what that point was. 

You were ready to order, but Ransom hadn’t glanced at his menu yet. Just as you were about to ask for a few more minutes, he said, “Go ahead and bring me another one of these right away,” and gestured with his drink in dismissal. She nodded and left.

Fuck it, you let yourself take a large drink of your wine. “Do you know what you’re going to have?” you asked, nodding to his menu.

He shook his head. “I have dinner plans after this.”

Heat shot through your whole body. “I thought these were the dinner plans.”

He rolled his eyes again. “Getting a head start on the nagging?” he asked, dryly. “Wow, it’s like we’re already married.”

You opened your mouth to do something, you weren’t sure what. Everything in your mind had gone white. But once again, Ransom beat you to it. “Alright, let’s get this done. You’re moving into my house. Fine. But I already have everything we need, so I expect you to pack light. I don’t need your shit cluttering up everything.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You didn’t know how to have a conversation with him. Someone who left no room for you and seemed not to care at all about anything you had to say. And then there was the voice in your head that kept shouting about how incredibly important this dinner was to the rest of your life. And now it wasn’t even dinner. So when you opened your mouth to speak, what came out was, “I have a dog.”

He stared at you for a moment, seemingly surprised that you’d spoken at all. “What? No. Absolutely not. You’ll have to get rid of it. I hate dogs.”

You didn’t even bother to try to think through the static in your head. “She’s coming with me. I don’t care what else happens, I’m fucking bringing my dog.”

Ransom just narrowed his eyes and stared at you for a moment, then, “Fine. Just keep it away from me. And if it destroys my house, you’re getting rid of it. I’m serious.”  

“She won’t,” you said, as sure of that as anything. “She’s a good girl.”

“Whatever,” he said, as the server returned with his second drink. He slid his empty glass to the end of the table, then said, “The bill,” without looking at her. As she took his empty away, he continued to you, “I don’t know why you want to deal with a dog and a baby, but…” he shrugged.

You just blinked at him, trying to catch up with the massive leap he’d just taken. “Baby? What? Who said anything about a baby?”

He laughed, loudly. “Oh my god, they didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?” you asked, harshly, panic starting to build up in your chest. 

“Of course, they fucking left that to me. There’s a clause in the contract,” he said, “requiring you to get pregnant with my child within the first year.”

You stared over his shoulder, you couldn't look him in the eye, horrified and speechless. You couldn’t breathe. How were you supposed to breathe?

“You seriously didn’t read your own marriage contract?” The judgment in his tone had you shrinking in on yourself. You couldn’t help it.

“They didn’t give me any time,” you said, quietly. “They just made me sign it.”

“And you always do what you’re told, don’t you? Yeah, you look like a good girl.” He said it the same way he’d called you polite when he’d first sat down with you. Like it made you weak. Stupid. You’d never thought so before, but now you wondered if he was right.

“Fuck,” you whispered.

He chuckled humorlessly. “We agree on that,” he said. “This whole thing is fucked.”

At some point, without your notice, the server had returned with Ransom’s card and the receipt. He signed it quickly, then stood up. “Listen, now, at least, we can go back to our parents, tell them we met, chatted, got to know each other. Everything is hunky dory. And then do whatever we want for the next three weeks. Right now, I’m going to try to salvage my night. You go do,” he gestured vaguely at you, “whatever you need to do. I’ll see you at the wedding.”

And then he was gone and you were alone.

You sat in the back seat of the car on the way back to your apartment, running over every moment of your evening. You kept thinking about the way he’d looked at you, talked to you. A baby. You were supposed to have a baby with him. A child that you’d have to raise. By yourself, judging by how invested in all this he seemed to be. Forty, fifty years of him looking at you like that, talking to you like that. And a baby. You leaned forward and asked the driver to take you to your parents’ house instead. 

Once you arrived, you said you needed to speak to your stepfather urgently and were shown to his study. You stood in the middle of the room, too anxious to sit down, and waited. Everyone was making you wait tonight. 

Several minutes later, Joseph finally came in. “We weren’t expecting you tonight,” he said. “How did it go?”

You ignored his question, which you guessed was an answer in itself. “Please don’t make me do this,” you pleaded. 

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, disappointed, and moved over to his bar, pouring himself two fingers of decanted whiskey. “I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“It was. It was awful. He’s– I can’t do this. Please, please don’t make me.” Your voice broke, but you couldn’t be embarrassed about it, not when you were staring down an entire lifetime with him. 

“Everyone gets nervous before their wedding. You’ll be fine. This is important. To all of us.”

“It’s not nerves!” You were close to shouting, suddenly. “You weren’t there. You don’t know. There have to be other families we need things from. It doesn’t have to be this family, does it? It doesn’t have to be right now. Please, please, anything else. I’m begging you, don’t make me marry him, have a child with him.”

He chuckled lightly. “Oh, that’s what this is about. It won’t feel as scary once the baby is here. You’ll make an excellent mother.”

You just stared at him, agape. He wasn’t listening to anything you had to say. “How could you not tell me that was part of the contract? I deserved to know. I wouldn’t have signed!”

His face hardened at that. “You were naive to not expect it. Of course, children are part of this. I admit that the timing is a little fast, but Harlan insisted.”

“Joseph, please listen to me. I can’t. I can’t. Please. If you care about me at all, you won’t make me do this.”

“You’re being ridiculous. It’s done. Everything’s signed. You signed. Now,” he said and took a drink, “it’s getting late. It’s high time you went home. Hopefully, you’ll be able to calm yourself down there.” And then he left the room, ignoring you as your whole world fell apart.

As you left, you passed your mother in the hall. Neither of you said anything.

When you got home, Steve was waiting for you, having already let himself in, holding Lola in one arm. “How did it go?” he asked seriously. You shook your head and finally let the tears fall. He pulled you into his arms, smushing you against your dog, and gently guided you into your home.

Part Two

Tag list is open

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#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale #chris evans fanfiction #fanfic #steve rogers #knives out #captain america #reader insert #arranged marriage au #kris wrote something #more than this #ce characters

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for taking pictures of my sister's house and not deleting them?

I (25f) and my adopted sister L (also 25) have grown up together since we were babies and are extremely close. I truly love her and want the best for her.

She has been married for 5 years to D (25m). They dated since they were 18 and got married at 20. I never had an issue with him except at times I thought he was immature. They have a kid together who is adorable and about to turn 3.

However, as they have been married i have an issue with him. I don't hate anyone, but he is highest on my shit list. Not an exhaustive list but he has (and I want to make this clear THESE ARE THINGS I HAVE WITNESSED I AM NOT LISTING THINGS SHE ONLY HAS TOLD ME ABOUT):

Whenever they argue yells at her. Even in front of guests (ahem me). She'll yell back and then he gets upset she is "raising her voice" at him, when he started it.

He won't let her get a job. He has canceled her applications for jobs before. She has sold some stuff online until he sold the materials she used to make things. Her only "income" is if he decides to give her an allowance and transfer money from his account to hers (please note they have BOTH their names on the accounts but one is considered hers one his). If she takes money from his account he gets mad. Bills, groceries, etc. Come from "her" account

Was always sweet but now uses her as jokes to his friends. Demeans her in front of them.

They move a state over after they got married, almost 5 hours away. Doable in one day, but many don't like to do it. Since being married, she has effectively not seen any of her friends except when they come into town to visit. I have went to visit her and one of her friends did, that friend confided they did not feel comfortable or welcome. That doesn't bother me cause personally I don't give a shit what D thinks and am there for my sister and nephew. But I have overheard D talk bad about all her friends, even me, snd encourage her not to talk to them.

The two friends she has made in the area D has told her to drop because they are "bad influences". The worst thing one has done was medical Marijuana that was prescribed to them. Not sure how they are bad except they've encouraged her to get a job and be more independent

D decided to get a cat, which my sister has a known allergy to. She didn't want the cat, but D brought it home. It has absolutely zero training and has destroyed their home. It pees everywhere, including my nephew's bed. It hates absolutely everyone except D, even attacking my sister for sitting on the couch next to D. D refuses to get rid of the thing even though it has scratched my sister and nephew multiple times and my nephew is afraid of it

Of course, there's more, but those are all things I have witnessed. The last part is what prompted me to take pictures of the bed that was peed on, the scratches on the kid and my sister. My sister showed me texts of her begging D to get rid of the cat and to me it seemed he threatened her, so I took a picture of that.

I personally believe D is an abusive prick. Definitely financially and emotionally, but not physically unless you consider neglect or him keeping the cat. He has never once hit my nephew or my sister that I have seen, and she has never stated he has. My sister has talked about leaving but then goes back to him, and I know on the outside it seems clear to me what to do but I know there is a cycle of abuse. When she is ready to leave him, she knows she can come to me and our parents.

However, D found out I took the photos. He called me drunk and extremely irate, but he didn't explicitly threaten me. It was implied. He called me an asshole, which is what made me think of this. He told me to delete the photos and that upon me doing so, he will get couples therapy.

On one hand I know they need therapy. On the other, what's to prove he will do this after I do that? My sister is begging me to delete the photos because she believes if they have therapy things will improve.

To be specific: D wants to be there when I delete them and make sure they are gone and to me that just proves how bad of a person he is because he doesn't want any evidence of any wrongdoing. My sister has sent me multiple texts and I know she has been trying to make a way for things in case it does go south, but she is afraid the inlaws will attempt for custody because apparently the inlaws have a bit of money and know the judge in our area. I dont want these photos to be used against her either...

AITA for not deleting them?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[bluehourbucky]

Love from afar

pairing: rockstardad!bucky x fpregnatmom!reader

summary: bucky is away on tour and you're catching up via face time.

a/n: new pictures of Sebastian got me feeling some type of way. also don't mind the kid names I don't know duhshd

-if you'd like to be tagged please let me know! tag list is open! so are my asks

warnings : sexual content / pregnancy / almost mas*uba*on / dirty talk

masterlist

bucky masterlist

rockstardad!bucky [extra content]

DO NOT COPY OR STEAL MY WORK

_______________________________________

18+ only

Minors please don't interact

Having two kids, one of them being a toddler, does not make life easy, especially when your husband is across the globe.

You're proud of Bucky for achieving his dreams and going on a world tour with his band. However, he didn't have to get you pregnant before leaving for 6 months. To be fair, the tour was scheduled months before you even got pregnant.

Bucky and you talked about trying for another baby when he came back, but by the time he comes back, you will be well into your seventh month.

When you found out you were expecting, Bucky almost cancelled the tour because he straight up refused to leave you. It took a lot of conversation and favours to make Bucky change his mind about cancelling the tour.

Buckys sister Rebecca was a huge part of this working out, she's been incredibly helpful and you couldn't thank her enough.

Today, though, you were alone with the kids. Luckily, your kids are very well-behaved, and you stopped minding the absolute mess your house has been since having kids.

Lately, you've been missing Bucky, he's been a huge part of both your pregnancies. He was and is such a hands-on father and husband, so going through this without him is scary. Bucky calls every day no matter the time zone he's in at the time of breakfast - the most chaotic time of the day aside from bed time.

You smile, seeing his name pop on your phone screen, you swipe, and are met with his beautiful blue eyes.

"Good morning, doll. Looking as gorgeous as always. How are you doing? And little one? And our little trouble makers?" Bucky asks, he's literally a second away from buying plane tickets every single time you send him a picture of you or your kids or you three together.

He looks so good, that you don't know if it's the hormones making you horny or it's just the regular horny you get when you see him.

It's been a while since he had let his hair grow out, mostly because the kids have been obsessed with pulling it, and worst of all, they tried to consume it. Now, being on tour, he let it grow since no one tried to eat it yet.

Bucky didn't visit since he knew that he wouldn't be able to leave again, so he called as much as he could. He missed you more than his heart could take, but this years tour has been the biggest one they ever went to.

You can't help but look at your husband with hunger and love in your eyes, the hair tie on his wrist making you hot all over.

"We're good. Missing you lots, but we're okay. Leo and Theo are trouble as always, but they're good." Bucky smiles at the names of his two boys. He loves them more than anything, but he's secretly hoping that the third would be a girl. He's been dreaming of being a little girls dad. She would be his princess, and he would spoil her endlessly. Not that he doesn't spoil each and every one of you already, but he would be unstoppable.

"Lemme see you, give me a turn doll." You roll your eyes but do it nonetheless. You set the phone on the kitchen counter and lean it on the bottle of water. Bucky smiles wide when he sees your bump, he wishies he could be there and talk to it and give it kisses like he had done other two times.

"Looking good, Mamma, wish I was there with you, miss you a lot." he without fail manages to make you blush even after twenty years of being together. You turn to the side and lift your shirt to give him a better view. Bucky turns into a human heart eye emoji when he looks at his wife and not only are his band members teasing him about it but so are his fans.

"Damn, look at you. Shit I'd do anything to have be there, I would have you naked in our bed, you're so sensitive right now and I'm not there to enjoy it. You're killing me doll."

You whimper quietly, he's the one that's killing you. The two of you enjoyed pregnancy sex way too much, and he's right you're extra sensitive right now.

"Lemme see them beauties, bet they're so swollen, so delicious just for me."

You lift your shirt slowly, teasingly releasing your very much swollen and full breasts, Bucky is a very dirty man and you'd lie if you two didn't explore some fun kinks.

"Gorgeous, my pretty wife, looking so beautiful carrying my baby. All mine."

You're about to reach under your underwear, Buckys hand already wrapped around his cock.

"Daddy!!"

You straighten up, and pull your shirt down quickly, your 5 year old bursts through the kitchen door. You don't know how he knew you were even talking to Bucky but oh well. There goes mommy and daddy time.

"Good morning, baby boy. Is it just me, or every time I call, you get a bit bigger?" Theo squeals from excitement and then goes on a rant about something that happened in one of the shows he's watching.

While they talk you go and wake up Leo, your currently youngest kid.

You get him up and carry him in your arms to the kitchen, he leans on your shoulder still half asleep.

"Baby, gimme the phone for a second." Theo immediately gives you the phone and follows you to the kitchen island where you sat.

"There's my other baby. Still sleepy, mommy woke you up, huh? What are we gonna do about it?"

It was a perfectly reasonable time to wake up....

Your son picks his head up at his father's voice and smiles, reaching for the phone. You put Leo down on the carpet not far from you, so you can still see him and Theo, while you make breakfast.

"Mommy!!!" Theo yells and you look up from the fruit you're currently cutting.

"Honey you don't have to yell I'm right here." you put away the knife, when he comes closer, Theo recently took a liking to yelling and dangerous objects.

"Daddy wants to talk to you!" Theo yells and you cringe at the volume, you love him more than anything but how can such a small child be so loud.

"Doll, I gotta go, we got soundcheck in about twenty minutes, kiss the boys for me, okay? Love you."

"Love you more, and good luck! I know you'll be great! Oh, and don't you dare cut your hair before you come home. I'm going to divorce you."

Bucky chuckles and says love you again before hanging up.

"Theo what do you have there?"

"A KNIFE!"

"NO."

[THE END]

I think this might be my favorite thing I've written so far.....

likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky imagine #bucky masterlist #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #marvel imagine #bucky smut #daddy bucky #rockstar!bucky #bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshots

[joelsgreys]

stay

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’re in Jackson with Joel and Ellie after Salt Lake City and the loss of somebody you failed to protect haunts you and leaves you wondering if the wound will ever heal—and how you’ll ever go on if it never does.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. child death, reader takes the life of a child. (TW) implied panic attack, implied SI, reader has a moment where she contemplates taking her own life, NO ACTUAL ATTEMPT. angst, soft, caring Joel. no age specified for reader, no physical descriptions of reader.

word count: 3.7k

2024

Late Spring

Jackson, Wyoming

You’d woken up early that morning, right before sunrise.

Eyes fluttering open, you blinked furiously into the darkness of the bedroom. Your bedroom.

Your bedroom in an actual house. One that didn’t have crumbling, dusty walls.

One that was an actual, real place to call home.

As you tried to move, the strong arm around your waist tightened and held you firmly in place.

Turning your head, you saw Joel’s face just inches away from yours. He was still fast asleep, his bare chest slowly rising and falling with each and every peaceful, tranquil breath he inhaled and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d finally stopped mumbling in his sleep.

You’d been in Jackson with him and Ellie for just about a week or so now, and you still hadn’t quite gotten used to it—waking up in a soft, warm bed with his arms around you.

Maybe you would never get used to it.

Being careful not to wake Joel, you slipped out of his grasp and sat up. Swinging your legs over the side of your shared bed, you planted your two feet on the cold, hardwood floors and stood up, doing your best to move around without having to turn the lights on so as not to disturb his slumber. You quickly but quietly searched around, using both of your hands to feel for the thin, cotton white tank top and dark gray pajama bottoms that had been discarded, strewn somewhere across the master bedroom the previous night by none other than Joel Miller himself. He had gotten rid of them as he’d hovered over you, tossing them carelessly over his shoulder so that he could spend the next several hours learning every single part of your body, almost as if he’d been getting to know it for the very first time.

It took you a minute, but you’d finally found your clothes, tugging them on before padding your way into the bathroom where you flipped on the lights and began running the water in the sink to brush your teeth—hell, even having a clean toothbrush and real toothpaste were sweet little luxuries that were also taking some getting used to.

You finished washing your mouth and splashed a bit of cool water onto your face, drying it off with a hand towel before turning off the sink as well as the lights. Leaving yours and Joel’s bedroom, you made your way downstairs into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie were also early risers, and they would be up within the hour. Since you were up, you figured it would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting for them.

First thing was first, you started an instant pot of coffee for yourself and for Joel, although truth be told it was mostly for Joel, as the man refused to drink anything else in the mornings. As it brewed and the dark brown liquid dripped slowly into the glass pot, you moved over to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The sight of a fridge stocked with real, proper food was almost like a fucking dream. You reached for the small basket of farm fresh chicken eggs that you’d picked up from the community’s market earlier that week when you and Ellie had gone food shopping. You set it down on the counter and looked through the wooden cabinets, grabbing a large, white porcelain bowl to scramble up the eggs in. You held it in your hands, an odd feeling washing over you.

Oh yes, this would all certainly taking some getting used to, all of it of it would take some getting used to—having shelter, running water, food and clean clothes. Not spending every goddamn fucking day fighting just to survive.

You glanced down at the bowl you gripped in your two hands, and felt your heart squeeze painfully inside of your chest.

Any normal person would have been relieved to be in this safe haven. Happy, even.

But not you, because all that you could think about was Lily, and how she wasn’t here.

2023

Early Fall

Midwest United States

The bite mark was on her shoulder.

It was still fresh, but the clock was already ticking like a time bomb.

You knew that. She knew that.

Everyone in that fucking basement knew that.

“Please,” Lily begged you, clutching fistfuls of your jacket. “Please.”

“No,” You choked out, feeling like someone had just punched you in the gut, knocking all the wind out out of your lungs. You turned back and looked over your shoulder at Joel, who stood there with his jaw clenched tightly, his dark brown eyes fixed on the dirty floor. Beside him, Ellie was wringing her hands together, fighting back her tears. You turned back to Lily, somehow finding your voice again. “No. I can’t do it. I won’t fucking do it.”

You blamed yourself for this.

The house the four of you had chosen to occupy for the night hadn’t been completely cleared out. You should have known better than to even think about cutting corners, you should have checked every goddamn room from the ground up, twice. If you had been more thorough, you would have realized that there had been a clicker down in the basement, silent and still, that is until Ellie and Lily had gone off exploring the entire house in such of possible supplies and garnered its attention, riling it up. It had gone after the girls while you and Joel were upstairs, and although Ellie had managed to shoot it dead in seconds, the damage had been done—the clicker managed to sink its teeth into your twelve year old sister, infecting her.

“Please, please don’t let me turn into one of those things,” Lily sank down, falling onto her knees in front of you. Letting go of your jacket, she clasped her hands together in a pleading motion. “Please! I don’t want to turn, not like mom and dad did. Not like Sam did. I need you to end it here, right now before it’s too late.”

“No!” You bit out the word once again through gritted teeth, white hot tears burning your eyes. “I won’t do that.”

Joel stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do.

Hell, there was really nothing he could say or do, was there?

Lily was infected—it was already a fucking death sentence.

And while he understood that she wanted to go out her way, he also understood that you couldn’t even fathom having to do the unthinkable. That you couldn’t even think about putting a bullet in your kid sister.

“I don’t have the guts to do it myself,” Lily said, her voice trembling. “I barely know how to use a gun. Please, you have to do it for me.”

You stared at her desperate face, the first of every single fucking tear that you would ever cry for the rest of your life finally slipping out of the corner of your eye and trickling its way down your cheek.

It was what Lily truly wanted, but how could you take her life?

The child that you’d raised yourself for the last ten years. Life could be so fucking cruel in a world like this one, but this, this was something else.

Still, what other choice was there?

It was either end it now, or abandon her in this old, crumbling house, leaving her all by herself to lose her mind.

Lily didn’t want that, and if her one final wish was to die on her terms, then you had no other choice but to fucking grant it for her. It didn’t matter how hard it was going to break you.

She didn’t have another option, and neither did you.

“Okay.” The agreement finally left your lips shakily. Your heart slammed hard against your chest wall, and your entire body had gone ice cold. “Okay.”

“No!” Ellie screamed, shoving you out of the way so roughly that she almost knocked you over. She grabbed Lily and hoisted her to her feet, wrapping her arms around her. Ellie held Lily protectively against her side, eyeing the spot where she knew you kept your gun tucked in the waistband of your jeans. “No, please, there has to be something we can fucking do!” She thought back to Sam and how what she’d done with her blood and his bite wound hadn’t worked to save his life. She held Lily tighter, knowing nothing else could be done and that her name would only be added to the growing list of people that she’d lost.

“Ellie,” Joel said her name softly, the softest that anyone had heard him say it since she’d come into your lives.

Her brown eyes met his and a tear escaped her.

“Fuck,” she whispered, devastated.

“It’s okay, Ellie. It’ll be okay.” Lily placed a hand on her arm. As she did so, everyone caught a glimpse of the way it’d twitched. “I don’t have much time left,” she said, nudging Ellie. She turned to face her, and offered her an encouraging smile. “Keep on going, okay? Do it for Tess. Do it for Sam. Do it for me. Do it for the whole world. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the Fireflies. Promise me that you’re gonna make it to the very end. Please.”

“I promise I’ll make it to the end,” Ellie whispered, pulling her into her arms one last time.

Joel looked at you as you took out your pistol with a trembling hand.

“M’so sorry,” he whispered, gently touching your shoulder. He then turned to Ellie and beckoned for her with his hand. As much as Joel didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, he knew he had to get Ellie out of there and out of the house. “C’mon.”

Helpless, Ellie meekly nodded her head without protest.

“Joel, be sure to cover her ears,” You instructed him quietly. “Even outside she might still be able to hear it.”

Joel gave a small, tight nod of his head. He walked over and gingerly touched Lily’s cheek in his silent goodbye to her before taking Ellie’s arm. “Let’s go,” he murmured, pulling her over towards the stairs. A few seconds later, the two of them were gone and the door of the basement shut closed with a loud, aggressive slam that you knew had to have come from Ellie.

Swallowing harshly, you went up to Lily. Taking her into your arms, you pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. It felt abnormally warm, a sure fire sign that the infection was running rampant inside of her—that she was running out of time.

“I’m sorry ,” Your voice broke in the middle of your apology. You held her close, your hand cradling the back of her head as she nuzzled her face into your neck, inhaling your scent deeply for the very last time. “I’m so sorry that I couldn’t keep you safe and sound like I promised I would.”

“Look at it this way.” Lily’s arms tightened around your waist. “Nothing or no one will ever be able to hurt me ever again. I’m gonna be safe up there in heaven with mom and dad and the three of us are gonna be watching over you. And Ellie and Joel, too.”

It was unbelievable. Here she was, fucking twelve years old and about to die, and she was trying to comfort you.

You held her even closer, nearly smothering her as the two of you began to cry in each other’s arms.

After a few minutes, Lily pulled away from you.

Her twitches were becoming more frequent with each second that ticked by.

“Please, let’s just do this before it’s too late,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her jerking hand.

You rigidly nodded your head, your legs feeling like jello as you took several steps backwards, leaving about six feet of distance between the both of you.

You lifted your arm, aiming the barrel of the gun at your little sister.

“I love you,” Lily offered you a feeble, watery smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered back to her before your finger finally pulled the trigger.

You closed your eyes, your heart sinking deeply as you tried to forget the way that she’d been gone before her body had even hit the cold, hard ground of that basement.

Instead, you tried to think of something else. But you just couldn’t.

Lily should have been here with you. With Joel, with Ellie. Her family.

Not dead, buried in a shallow grave somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere.

She would have been so happy here in Jackson.

Safe.

She would have been safe.

“She’s gone,” You told yourself, willing the fact to get through your thick skull once and for all.

As the image of your sister’s sweet smile came into your mind again, something in you finally snapped, like a rubber band that had been pulled too tight for far too long.

“She’s gone!” Your scream tore itself from the back of your throat. “She’s gone! She’s fucking gone and she’s not coming back!”

Taking the bowl in your hands, you flung it across the kitchen with all your might, watching it as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. You turned back towards the cabinet, both hands reaching for anything and everything you could get your hands on—plates, bowls, glasses. Once the cabinet had been emptied out, you went for all of the dishes and appliances on the counter, throwing and breaking everything in sight. When you’d finally run out of items to destroy, you sank down to your knees right onto a pile of broken glass. As you did so, you noticed one particularly large shard of glass with a pointed, jagged edge.

Picking it up, you grasped it so tightly in your trembling hand that you began to bleed as it sliced into your palm.

Was it even fucking worth it?

Being alive without her?

What was the fucking point?

The guilt of what happened to Lily would eat you alive for the rest of your life, especially here in Jackson, where you were living the very same life that you had wanted to provide for your sister for so many fucking years but never could.

Your eyes glazed over the sharp point of the glass, and then flickered to the thin, delicate flesh of the lower portion of your forearm—a gun would be so much quicker, less messy. It would be painless, and a hell of a lot better than nicking a vein and letting yourself bleed out on the kitchen floor.

But if the opportunity presented itself, why not take it regardless of the method?

Still clutching the glass, images of Joel and Ellie suddenly flashed in your mind.

They were family.

Your family.

As much as you wanted to put an end to the pain, you knew with every fiber of your being that Lily would want you to stay. If not for yourself, then for them. Because that was the kind of girl she was.

So good, so sweet. Full of hope.

Everything had blurred and your mind was lost in such a thick haze that it took you a minute to realize that Joel was shouting your name—the sounds of your screaming, of glass and porcelain breaking, it had woken both him and Ellie and they had ran down the stairs in a panic.

Ellie gasped your name and started towards you, but Joel grabbed her and held her back when he realized she was barefoot. “Careful, the glass!”

“Joel, fucking do something!” Ellie demanded, her eyes widening in horror when she saw the glass in your hand and the way that you’d been looking at your wrist in something of a trance.

Joel hadn’t been wearing any shoes either, hell, he’d barely managed to tug a shirt on over his head and it was inside out, but he quickly and carefully made is his way over to you. He crouched down beside you and immediately took your arm, giving it a shake so you would drop the shard of glass.

His warm touch brought you back to earth.

“Joel?” You squeaked out his name, your heart pounding.

You felt tears prickling at your eyes, and you opened your mouth to let out a sob, but nothing came out. Your cries were lodged in the back of your throat and you felt stuck in your lungs. You suddenly felt like you couldn’t take a breath and started to hyperventilate.

“Hey, hey, hey. Breathe. Look at me,” he said. He palmed the side of your face and gently, but firmly forced you to meet his gaze. Your eyes were wide, pupils dilated. “Look at me, I’m here. We’re both here, me and Ellie. We’re right here. Breathe for me darlin,’ just breathe.”

You frantically nodded, as if to tell him, I’m trying.

It took a minute or two until finally, your gasps for air slowed down.

When they finally did, you began sobbing uncontrollably.

“Oh baby. C’mere,” Joel murmured. He pulled you up to your feet and moved you to a spot that wasn’t covered in broken dishware. He held you against his chest, stroking your hair.

Ellie joined in, and they both just held you in silence until your wails of agony subsided several minutes later.

“I’m sorry,” You apologized through little hiccups. “I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t fucking be sorry,” Ellie immediately stopped you, her hand rubbing at your back. She pulled back and looked at the blood stain on Joel’s light gray t-shirt. “Oh shit, Joel. Her hand, look at her hand.”

Joel looked down, alarmed, but he remained calm. “Ellie, go upstairs into our bathroom. There’s a first aid kid under the sink.”

She nodded and whirled around, bolting out of the kitchen.

In the blink of an eye, she’d returned with a small white tin box with a red cross etched onto the lid. She handed it to him. “Here.”

Taking it in one hand, Joel used his other hand to guide you over to the kitchen table. He sat you down and then pulled a chair out for himself, taking a seat across from you.

“She going to be okay?” Ellie asked, worriedly.

“Doesn’t look too deep, at least not deep enough to need stitches. It should be okay,” Joel stated as he opened up the first aid kit. “Ellie, mind if I have a minute alone with her?” He saw her open her mouth to protest and gave her a look. “Please.”

She huffed, but nodded. She touched your shoulder lightly and left the room, though both you and Joel were positive she’d stick around out in the hallway to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered hoarsely, breaking a silence that had fallen over the two of you. “I’ll clean this mess up—”

“You think that’s what I’m worried about?” Joel asked, placing your hand in his lap as he poured hydrogen peroxide onto a wad of cotton. He picked it up and gingerly started cleaning your wound. He sighed, shaking his head. “Funny thing is, I knew you’d snap sooner or later. But truth be told, darlin’ I didn’t think this would be the way you’d let it all out.”

You stared at him. “What do you mean you knew I’d snap?”

Joel looked up from your cut, his gaze meeting yours. “I know you like I know the back of my own fuckin’ hand,” he reminded you. “And I know what you’ve been carryin’ around after what happened with Lily. That feelin’ you’ve been bottlin’ up for months now. I know what it’s like to carry that kinda burden on your shoulders. It’s heavy, and at some point, you ain’t got no choice but to put it down.” He paused. “Only, I was hopin’ you would do so by talkin’ to me, not destroyin’ the kitchen of this house.”

“I don’t know what happened,” You admitted, softly. “One minute I was down here getting ready to make us all breakfast, and the next, I just fucking lost it.” You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. “I just kept thinking about how Lily should be here with us. And how she would be, if I hadn’t failed her.”

Joel frowned. “You didn’t—”

“I fucking did, Joel. I failed at protecting my sister. I failed at keeping her safe, alive.”

Letting out another sigh, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He spoke, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Baby, you can’t keep blamin’ yourself for somethin’ that was out of your control.”

“But it was in my control, Joel. I should have checked every goddamn crevice of that fucking house, because if I had, Lily would still be alive. She would be here in Jackson with us, living the life that she always deserved to live.”

Joel leaned his forehead against yours. “Look, I know that nothin’ I say is goin’ to make it better. Nothin’ I say is goin’ to bring her back and m’sorry,” he said. “But you need to know that it wasn’t your fault. You did the best you could. I know that her bein’ gone hurts. Trust me I know that feelin’ all too well.”

Another tear slipped down the side of your face and he reached up, lightly brushing it away with his thumb.

Of course he knew the feeling.

The scar on his temple was a testament of how well he knew that feeling, of how he knew exactly what it felt like to want to end it all after losing someone so precious.

Only, he had actually tried to end it all.

Joel’s voice broke into your thoughts. “I need you to know that you’re not alone, baby. You ain’t gotta carry your grief alone. You’ve got Ellie, and you sure as hell got me. We’re both here to help you through anythin’ that you need, alright? We’ve got you—I’ve got you.”

“I know you do.” Your voice broke once more and you swallowed back another sob.

Joel brushed his lips against yours. Sitting back into his chair he lifted your hand and inspected it thoroughly. “Don’t think there’s any glass in it,” he observed. He started bandaging your hand with a roll of gauze from the first aid kit.

“Thank you, Joel,” You murmured as soon as he had finished patching you up. “And I’m sorry. Not about the mess, but about what I thought about doing.”

Joel reached out, cradling the side of your face. His thumb grazed the soft skin of your cheek. “I need you to stay, baby,” he whispered, his own voice thickening with emotion. “Me and Ellie, we both need you to stay. You understand me?”

You placed your hand on top of his, nodding as your eyes met his once more.

“I’ll stay,” You promised him.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fanfiction #tlou imagine #joel miller imagine #joel miller hbo

[bsxcrxts]

I'm still petitioning for mommy kink spencer whenever you're up to it🚩

the people have spoken!!!

Good Vibrations

a Spencer Reid x fem!reader fic

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. my posts are for those 18+ ONLY! put your age in your bio to interact with me and my works or find yourself blocked!

Content Warnings: reader referred to by gendered terms (sorry, I usually try to avoid this but with mommy kink it's hard), porn mentioned as the way Spencer first heard of this kink but not described in detail at all, small cock Spencer alluded to (sorry I have to live my truth), mommy kink (as more of a title than anything tbh), vibrator usage, sub/dom dynamics, edging him, the vague mention of assplay but it doesn't happen (maybe a sequel idk 👀)

Word count: almost 1k <3 not proofread (sorry)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer's not particularly keen on porn. He hasn't watched any since the two of you started dating, but of course before that, when he was a bit younger and it seemed like no one was ever going to give him the time of day, he'd at the least been curious.

He's a man of science, after all. He knows the value of testing a hypothesis. He likes knowing things.

Most of what he found back then was... not his style. He'd known he was into being bossed around instead of being the one in charge, liked the feeling of a person telling him what to do, and on the surface, most of the videos were rather the opposite. So, out of a certain nosiness, Spencer kept looking, but nothing ever really stuck with him.

Except for one.

He'd never gone looking for it again. He didn't need to. The majority of the contents of the film itself weren't particularly of interest to Spencer. Just what the woman had told the man to call her.

It stayed with him for years, but he could never really quite bring himself to say it, or ask you about it. He wasn't at all dissatisfied with your sex life, quite the opposite, and there was no real reason to bring it up.

So he just... hasn't. Until today. By complete accident.

You're on the bed, straddling his thighs, pinning him down with nothing but your weight. Spencer's head is thrown back and he's writhing beneath you as you press your vibrator wand against his cock, letting it tease him before yanking it away.

Spencer reacts well to being edged, you know. He gets needy and whiny and absolutely desperate, and runs his mouth like a brat before he breaks and says anything to be allowed to cum.

You lightly drag the vibrator across his cock, and his hands scramble to and from the sheets to your thighs, trying to grasp onto anything to ground himself in the sensation.

"D-don't s-stop this time," he pleads, hips trying to buck under your body.

"Aww," you coo, "you like that feeling on your pretty little cock?"

"Mhm!" he gasps. "Keep going, g-god, keep g-going."

Spencer bucks his hips uncontrollably and tries to grab at your hands and pull the toy closer to intensify the feeling.

"Be polite," you tut, maintaining the vibrator, barely pressed against his tip.

"U-uhn! I-I am polite," Spencer sasses you a bit, frustrated as he tries to wiggle closer to the vibrator, chasing the sensation.

The contact vanishes from his cock as you take the toy away for the third time in this session. His cock kicks against his stomach, pre-cum oozing from the flushed head, impending orgasm vanishing.

Beneath you, Spencer huffs out a whine. You lean over him and kiss him, but refuse to touch his dick whatsoever.

"Spencer," you murmur, when he's stopped squirming underneath you. "Are you going to be good?"

Spencer nods, but whispers, "Wanna cum."

"I know, sweetheart. I want you to cum, too. But you have to be good. Can you behave?"

"Yes! Yes," he whines, running his hands sweetly up and down your thighs, stilling beneath you.

"That's it, such a good boy," you praise, and click the vibrator up to a middle intensity as you press it against his cock.

Finally, the relief of the contact in combination with the praise has Spencer's head reeling. He can't think straight, which is saying a lot for someone of his IQ, and he delves into rambling, saying anything that comes to his mind. That's when it just... slips.

"Thank you! T-thank you, mommy!!" he cries out, immediately tensing a little when he realizes what he's said.

You blink a little, not sure what you've heard. He's never called you that before.

"What'd you say?" you ask softly.

Spencer's cheeks turns beet red, and he turns to try to hide his face in the pillows.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about it if you don't want–" he starts.

"Mommy, is that what you said? That's hot, Spencer," you say. "I liked it."

Spencer's whole demeanor changes. He instantly relaxes, becoming re-aware of the vibrations on his cock. "O-oh," he stutters, "then, um, good," and then, shyly, "m-mommy, can we keep going?"

"You want more, sweet boy?" you tease.

"Want whatever mommy gives me," Spencer gasps, sweetly obedient.

His words send shock waves through your stomach to your cunt, and you crank up the intensity of the vibrator, letting it run full strength against his twitching cock, and he jerks under you, unable to stop his reaction.

"Fuck! Mommy!" he cries out.

It takes a lot to get Spencer to cuss. You like the way it sounds when he says it, especially when he's lost in his pleasure below you.

He's fucked out, returning to his babbling as you tease the length of his cock with the vibe. You're reaching down to toy with his hole, running a finger along his taint and tapping there, not pushing in, not without prep, but even the suggestion of it drives him crazier.

"P-please mommy, next t-time, you could, um! Fuck!! Anything you want, mommy, just let me cum. I want you mommy, oh god, just like that!!"

"Anything I want, hm?" you tease.

"Y-yes, mommy!"

"What about you, sweetie? What do you want? You wanna cum?"

"Mommy, I needa cum. Please don't stop," he whines.

"I won't stop this time, Spencer, you were such a good and honest boy for me," you tell him, "go ahead and make a mess for me."

"Mommy!" Spencer moans, and spills all over his stomach and your vibrator.

It's certainly not the last time he calls you by that name.

#sub spencer #becca's bs #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #Spencer 🤍

[b0xerdancer-writes]

Snow White Peaks

Cassian x Illyrian!Reader

Summary: Cassian meets a strange female when investigating a random note from her summoning her 'Brother' Rhysand. He falls for her and the two have a child together only he doesn't know it. When he finds out he swears to be there from now on.

Warnings: 18+, implied semi-graphic smut but not full scenes, war, sub!Cassian, bullying, physical violence.

Word Count: 10,113

Notes: There will most definitely be a part two of Cassian bonding with his son and getting his wish of wanting to be there for firsts of a child. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Illyria: The northernmost region of the Night Court. A few barren rocky islets, steppes, mountain ranges, and most importantly the camps. 

There were 6 major camps nestled within the mountain peaks: Windhaven and Ironcrest being the most well known; the other four: Blackrock ran by Lord Caston, Snowhollow ran by Lord Edoril, Ebonhold ran by Lord Varyn, and Highgarde ran by Lord Soldril, were all lesser known but still trained members of the Night Courts armies. 

However, there was one more major camp, the Angelsrest. Rhysand’s father had commissioned the camp and swore it into secrecy and under protection. It was a camp for gifted Illyrians; he had tried to send Azriel there once but Devlon had his talons into him and refused to send him off. In reality it was a privately funded and specialized unit of powerful illyrians that were trained as a back pocket weapon for the High Lord.

Angelsrest was founded behind the other camplords' backs, Rhysands father had been keeping an eye on the war camps and villages since he had found his mate with her wings about to be clipped. He had found one village hidden back away from the other camps, hundreds if not thousands of miles from any other village or camp. The entire mindset and tradition of these illyrians, while similar to the others at their core, held a much higher regard for gods and their spirituality. 

He explored the village and introduced himself to the illyrians there who greeted him with open arms; they showed him around, fed him, let him examine their way of life, They answered any questions he had without hesitation. One thing, however, caught his attention; at the top of the camp where the Lords house normally stood was an elegantly painted and decorated temple like home.

“What's in there?” The High lord had asked a female working on tanning a hide.

“Oh! That's the ladies house, the white mother.” She had chirped back.

“The white mother?” He furrowed his brows.

“She talks to the mother and the night father, the old gods before the Cauldron. They rewarded us for our devotion by gifting us and her with a child from the skies itself. The starchild we call her.” The female explained.

“Why do you call her the starchild?” The High Lord was utterly confused, he had never heard anything like this before.

“There was old legends and lore eons ago when Illyrians first made their homes here that the night father guided every lord at the time to where their village or camp now stands, it's said our first lord was led here, where a star had fallen from the sky and landed amongst the snow. He nursed the star to health and kept trying to return her home to the night father, the stars are his children you see?” She hummed brightly. “As a gift for returning his child, he granted him powers of the stars; however, it turned his wings white in the process.  The night father declared that as payment every child of his bloodline would have the gift as well.”

“Ahh, Starchild makes sense now.” the high lord nodded.

“She's the last starchild. Her mother married into the bloodline but her father passed away recently after a hunting patrol went awry.” The female looked down, grief evident in her face.

“Oh, I apologize for the loss.” The lord mumbled.

“I can introduce you to the starchild if you wish? Her mother is out hunting right now so the child is with the elders and other babes.” The female offered, standing from the hide rack.

“Please, I’m intrigued by the story if I am being honest with you.” The lord thanked her.

The two walked silently through the sprawling houses and buildings, till they came to a large hut. Older males and women sat on stools and padded chairs, long since having served their community. The laughter and echoes of children rang out as they ran around the room, at the center a white winged female leading them to their next adventure.  Her wings white with a faint purple to the membranes, sparkled like freshly fallen snow; she held them high and proudly, they were much larger than any of the other childrens and she had to adjust them regularly so the tips wouldn’t drag against the wood flooring.

“Stardust, come here please.” The female beside him chirped. 

The child apologized and dismissed herself from the group, clearly only around 10 years of age. She approached the two sweetly introducing herself to the lord in front of her, he introduced himself back and shook her tiny hand.

It was the first time he had met her, and it surely wasn’t the last time; he would make regular check-ins with the small community and on the small female, who grew close to him like she was his own daughter. When Rhys was born he brought the babe out for her to meet, she held him excitedly while the lord told her about Velaris and his court and the other war camps and villages he had explored. As she grew so did her wings and personality, she had to hold her wings higher and higher on her shoulders as the tips of the talons started touching the ground; she used it to her advantage though as an extremely fast and strong flier, the day she had beaten all the records in her village she eagerly showed the lord.

Her powers continued to manifest  and expand and by 16 she was one of the top in her village, the lord invited her to Velaris and his home for her birthday where she had gotten to see a 5 year old Rhys. The lord offered to have her taught war tactics, to have someone teach her how to fight; she took the offer eagerly and began reporting to a general weekly till she was 20 and had learned everything the male could teach her.

By her 21st year the lord had called her into the mountains above her village and deep into a wooded plateau, she remembered males from her village would be up here for hours working on something; she asked him if their work had something to do with what he had to show her, when he agreed with thoughts she grew excited to see the years worth of work the villagers had put in.  The two marched through the powdered snow and worn path till they reached a clearing, a large wooden fence with the sign reading Angelsrest greeted them; she looked eagerly over to the lord, he motioned for her to explore the newly built war-camp.

“Why did you decide to build a camp out here father?” She inquired.

“As a gift. For you.” He replied. “You will be the lady of the camp, the first Illyrian female to run a war-camp.” 

She looked back at him, her wings flared slightly then relaxed. “Why me?”

“You have surpassed my expectations, it would be a shame if your talents were to go unharnessed.” He smiled. “I have seen you working with the children in your village, I wanted to give you the opportunity to really train.” 

She pulled him into a hug and thanked him, promising her best work for him. From then on the war camp began to take form, a mix of illyrians from her village and those the lord would pull from other camps and villages; those with powers much like his ‘shooting star’ as he called her. The camp was ideal from the get go, wing clipping had been banned, all illyrians within her camp were talented and trained equally.

Then the first tragedy of her life struck, her mother succumbed to wounds like her father had; the lord took her to Velaris and officially adopted her.  By the time Rhys was old enough to join Windhaven Angelsrest was in full swing, an assortment of various powerful illyrians making their home there. 

Then came the letter, written in a cursive panicked sprawl from the lord she now called father; detailing his plans to avenge the loss of his wife and biological daughter, he apologized for any wrongs he may have cause her and told her he had a bad feeling as he readied himself to go after their killers. He detailed how he had sworn Rhys to keep the camp running and protected under her rule as lord, the lord had his son swear to keep his eye out for talented illyrians and bring them to her for training. Rhys had only met her a handful of times as he grew up and being forced to swear her protection had startled him as he realized how much his father truly cared for his adoptive sister in the mountains. 

The day Rhys appeared at Angelsrest and saw how much progress the camp had made with their training, the white winged female had caught him off guard. Rhys had only become high lord a week prior and was touching bases with every camp but the atmosphere was different; every illyrian respected her and even though she stood taller than Rhys did at that point with almost double his wingspan he understood their fathers fascination with the power she possessed, she carried nearly double the siphons he and his brothers did. She commanded respect without actually commanding it, her actions made those around her want to follow her. She toured him around the camp's facilities, showed off their training, and her top warriors. 

Eventually a female with tiny wings joined  the two as they toured, folders and paperwork in her hands that she passed off to her white winged superior to approve. The small winged female was introduced as her deputy and second in command of the camp, while her wings had stopped growing as a child she had become incredibly intelligent and had adapted to be able to winnow or blink incredible distances. 

After Rhys had decided the tour sufficient, he apologized for her loss and swallowed a breath sharply; her wings flared slightly as she tried to keep her composure, her brother's attitude towards their father and his legacy having angered her.

“Like I said, your camp will continue to operate as is and we would like you to remain here unless called to Velaris or another camp for a meeting. If I ever need an update or anything I will send one of my inner circle to check in with you.” The younger male nodded and disappeared from the front of the camp.

The white winged female and her deputy turned back to the lively camp behind them, those in training pausing to greet the two; they climbed the steps of the main building while discussing the matters at hand and how to further continue their training. The meeting with her brother was the start of changing tides.

She wouldn’t see the male she called brother or his circle for nearly 4-5 hundred years, gifted and powerful Illyrians would appear at the front of the camp explaining they were dropped off by the new highlord; she would bring them in show them the ropes and introduce them to the others training at the camp. Then came the silence, 30 years of no new illyrians at their door; so she sent letters to Velaris looking for her brother and summoning him for a meeting, one of his generals came instead.

+

“Ferelith, any update on a letter back from Velaris?” I asked my deputy while looking over several pieces of paperwork from businesses within my camp and village.

“No mam.” She responded looking up from behind her own paperwork, her small wings fluttering quickly behind her.

“Fere, I told you no formalities.” I hummed back to her.

“And you will have to tell me every day my lady.” Ferelith responded back with a chirp.

I snorted and there was a knock on the study door, a younger male I remembered by the name Leander who harnessed some power that was capable of animal communication, stepped into the study looking extremely pale and panicked. He was from a village near camp Windhaven, had been brought to my camp when he was 15 after he had nearly been hanged for stealing a sheep that was in immense pain from improper feed and bloating.

“Mam.” he saluted.

“Leander? What’s the matter child?” I looked up from my desk, watching as the male panted, his wings taught against his back.

“The General! He’s outside, mam. The Lord of Bloodshed.” Leander shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

“Thank you Leander, you are dismissed. Ferelith come, we have a guest to greet.” I stood, pushing the stool under the desk, flaring my wings every so slightly as I adjusted them up my back.

I slipped from my study and pushed the grand doors open, eyeing down the male standing in the center courtyard; his wings were flared out in an intimidation tactic and a grand Red siphon set in the center of his chest.

I took a breath in and squared my shoulders staring down at the male in the center of my camp. “Lord of Bloodshed, what brings you to my camp?” 

His eyes widened as he stared back up at me, “So I see the rumors are true my lady. I’ve received your letter meant for the High Lord, he is otherwise preoccupied at the moment.”

I scoffed and continued down the steps till I stood eye to eye with him. “My own brother is too preoccupied to see to his own affairs? Let alone a deal he was sworn into?” 

The male tensed, his wings flaring like I had insulted him personally. “If you wish to further discuss the matters at hand, let me pull you aside and we can speak on it in private.”

He still had to look up at me by about a head and a half,my eyes raked up and down the male as a means to size him up; watching as he subconsciously made small movements that told me he found me intimidating: small eye movements between me and the snow covered ground, miniscule movements of his wings to make himself smaller in my gaze, and he turned his head ever so slightly like he would turn and run if I came at him aggressively. It made me want to smirk, instead I decided to test my observation further. 

I glared at him a bit harsher than I had before and flared my wings, watching as his throat bobbed. “Fine, this way then.”

I turned to the side, giving him space to climb the stairs beside me. His wings were tight and tense against his back as he climbed them, and as soon as he had passed me I turned to walk beside him up the bath to my house. 

After he had stepped through the grand door frame I looked over my shoulder to Ferelith. “Please see to the training regimens and check in with the shops while I attend this meeting.”

She simply nodded and turned; trodding down the wooden steps and towards the training ring. I  shut the door behind us, the faelights flickering from the chilled wind blowing in. He stood in the center of the entryway, uneased he shifted on his feet; I motioned to the study I had been sitting in earlier and he shuffled in.

Rounding my desk I pulled the stool back out and adjusted myself on it. I motioned for the padded chair in front of me that was specially made for illyrian wings;He sat and adjusted his wings, I greeted him with a smile and leaned onto my elbows.

“So, Lord of Bloodshed, tell me why my brother is too preoccupied to make good on our deal.” My tone was venomous as I smiled at him.

He straightened in his seat. “There's been some commotion in the Courts of Prythian, Rhys has done his best to keep Illyria out of it so you wouldn't know and wouldn’t have heard anything. He went to a meeting held by some kind of emissary slash general of the King of Hybern. Lots of the high lords and their people did, none of them have been back yet but we know they are alive from what Tamlin, the High Lord of Spring, has told us. She put a curse on him and his court held the rest of the lords hostage. We are waiting to find out more.” Cassian sighed. “We haven't heard from Rhys just as long as you, we didn’t even know about your deal and what it's about or this camp. No one even knew Rhys had another sister till your letter came.” 

I sighed and rubbed my temples. “That would explain the radio silence. Ask away.”

“First, why are your wings white?” Cassian questioned.

“My ancestors made a deal with the Night father, surely you've heard the mythology of him?” I asked.

Cassian nodded. “Vaguely yeah, didn't he show the ancient illyrians where to make their homes?”

“Precisely, the village I came from that I’m sure you saw when flying in, has a special connection with the Night Father. I implore you to find our archivist in the village below if you wish to know the lore to the full extent.” I half explained and he nodded intently.

“So, if you're Rhys’s sister and older than him, why didn’t you become lord or lady if you were the heir?” Cassian questioned.

“Adopted sister, my father died before I was born and my mother died shortly after the founding of this camp. Our father took interest in me when I was incredibly young, my powers made an impression on him and it was before Rhys’s birth. He had originally just wanted to see me trained correctly but became invested and we grew a bond like that of a father and his child. I'm not his true heir, even though he expressed his desire for that before he passed.” I motioned to the painting that had been gifted to me with the camp, a picture of father and I that he had painted.

Cassian nodded. “Rhys hasn't told us a thing about this camp or an outstanding deal with it, I've only heard rumors from the other camps I’ve visited.” 

I sighed. “The deal is that he and any high lord in the future, as long as this camp is running, will bring gifted and powerful Illyrians here to be trained. The camp has been kept out of major eyes and ears due to the fact it's a back pocket weapon for the high lords.”

Cassian tilted his head in questioning “Then why are you not on our regular camp regulation trips?” 

“Camp regulations? What does my dear brother have you check?” I asked.

“Like females being trained, wing clipping is banned, stuff like that.” Cassian shrugged.

“Then that is part of why Rhys hasn’t had any of you do a check here, those have been in place here since before Rhys was born my village never did that and when the camp was built that rule carried over.  It's been hard to break some of the males ,who came from camps and villages where that was practice, out of that mindset; and we have females here who were already clipped before they joined us but everyone gets equal training and opportunities as long as they want too. Some opt out and wish to work the shops instead, that is not frowned on either as it supports the camp further.” I said entirely disinterested, turning back to the paperwork on my desk. 

“I mean that's true, I was able to tell from mere observation. But! Normally we still check in every so often and observe training or join in on a session of training.” Cassian rebutted 

“Your high lord cares not for the camps or real change would have taken place by now. You only check them when you receive a complaint or a rumor reaches your ears.” I retorted without looking up from my desk.

Cassian growled and stormed towards the desk, slamming his hands on the wood. “Quit talking down on Rhys, you have no right! I’m sorry that he got the bigger stick and he ended up being dear ol daddy’s favorite; your not any better than he is, fuck I’d say from the attitude you have given me since the start you are worse than he is.”

My eyes flicked up to him, and I raised a brow at him. “You have 3 seconds to return to your seat.”

He scoffed and as he went to return to his rant. I flared my wings as a warning and stood up quick enough my stool clattered to the floor behind me. I used my speed to gain advantage against him while he wasn't paying any attention, pinning his head against my desk  by the side of his neck. His cheek was red squished against the wooden desk and his own wings flared as he struggled against my hold.

“Collect yourself General, before you regret it.” I hissed back at him.

His eyes widened as he looked towards me stunned. I narrowed my eyes on the male. 

“You may stay a few days if you wish to conduct your little observation further. But I warn you General if you cross any line here I will correct you. Remember whose camp you are in.” I growled down at him.

He growled back and tried to stand up and fight against my hold, I strengthened my hold and pressed his cheek harder against the desk; splinters threatened his skin and my desk creaked as it threatened to give way, my grip on the male finally loosened when he whimpered. I scoffed and released him walking out of my office and back out into the snowy campgrounds. 

+

Cassian’s visit was relatively uneventful, everything checked out regulations wise but he needed to know more about the strange white winged female whose life he had barged into at her request for the male he called brother. He didn’t necessarily like her and her tendency to drag Rhysand but something about her he found intimidating and interesting, like there was something more just around the corner she was hiding. He found any excuse to stay, even if it meant butting heads with her; he often lost the fights if he pushed her boundaries but he was hoping to push her over an edge, hoping it would cause her to mess up and reveal something. He had requested a walk-through of every building in the camp, finding something as simple as a loose board as a cause for concern. He had written to Azriel after a week telling him it would be awhile before he returned; saying the camp needed more observation and he wanted to make sure training was up to date, any excuse in the book really. 

It had been a month of Cassian and the Lady of the camp butting heads, when Cassian realized why he was so intrigued at pissing her off.

The first time was when he started his every building must be checked and looked over, he had spent the day being in her way; he followed her room to room looking at every minor detail. He knew he was close when her eyes kept flicking up to him and then shed rub her temples, he finally got her to yell at him by flapping or ‘adjusting’ his wings knocking papers from her desk when she took a drink of hot tea. She had stood abruptly and pinned him to the wall, yelling at him her office was off limits until she had completed her tasks for the day; she had dragged him out of her office and tossed him to the floor just outside it, slamming the doors shut.  He had lain on the floor for about 10 minutes with a victorious smile on his face, before he had finally got up to finish his walk through. 

The next day he had followed her to a meeting with her own generals, he had learned their names were Saros and Larissa, under the excuse he would like to be able to ask them questions about their regiment. She had agreed with a sigh, and hiked out to the ring with him at her heels. The meeting had started fine but when everything had checked out he had to find some way to annoy her, so questions he would ask. Everytime she would start to ask about something he would interrupt with his own question. ‘How do you specifically train for their powers?’, ‘Do you spend the same amount of time with every individual during personal training hours or is it based on that person's needs?’. All questions that would make sense for  him to be asking, but simply inconveniencing her.  He watched as her wings tensed and flared but she couldn’t do anything as it was all standard stuff he needed to know. He walked away from the meeting with a smirk and a swagger in his hips.

He would often follow her for about half an hour a day at the start, if she was walking around camp he was at her heel and if she stopped to talk to a member of the camp he was behind her mimicking her every movement. If she was in her office he was making small humming noises while ‘reading’ books from her shelf, ignoring her when she snipped at him to stop the annoying noises, he would kick his feet up on the coffee table much to her annoyance, ask personal questions, and fidget with kick knacks around her office until she forced him out of the office and away from her. 

Some of his proudest moments were when he was able to publicly embarrass or aggravate her. The first time he had gotten the rush from his new favorite pastime she had been in a meeting with the shopkeepers in a new conference room he had yet to see, he had been walking around admiring the art and artifacts compiled here. It was a public conference hall anyone in camp could reserve and use, everyone had pitched in to decorate it and it was actually quite a sight Cassian had to admit. They were deep in negotiations when Cassian had stopped paying attention and simply admired the surroundings; he had run into a pillar holding an ornate sculpture of ‘Her Highness’. He had spun on his heels when he realized the statue was falling, he had reached out to stop the fall but was a second late as it clattered to the floor and shattered. Everyone had looked over to Cassian as the shatter had cut off the female he enjoyed annoying ever so much, all eyes were on him and her as her wings flared; she let out a loud sigh, wings pulled closer to her back and she pinched the bridge of her nose. 

It had been unintentional but he was delighted when she sighed loudly “Meeting dismissed, we will reconvene later this week”

The second time he had publicly embarrassed her was a night in the mess hall. He had eaten in there with the other warriors everyday since he had arrived and he was a welcomed presence in the hall with his humor and antics. It had given him nostalgia to his days in Windhaven, to which he would tell stories of what he and his brothers had gotten up to in their own camp. She had walked into the mess hall, wings glittering like fresh powdered snow in the faelights, her small deputy at her side. They had both conversed their entire way through the line, paying him and the others barely any mind beside small hellos as they carried on back and forth. 

When the two sat down she had taken a bite and hummed, nearly moaning, as she took a bite of the beef. “I'm telling you Ferelith Beef and noodle night never fails to impress. I never miss it, by the father, this is my favorite meal we have, probably the best as well.”

The small female beside her nodded along, chirping back and Cassian took a bite of his own plate, chewing on the egg noodles he smirked at his opening. He cleared his throat, everyone turning to look at him wide eyed.

With a scoff he stood and made his way over to her. “The best? Don’t be ridiculous. If this is the best you have, I feel sorry for your warriors.” He shrugged and took his fork stabbing into her meat. “The meat is tough and you have to chew for ages to get through it. The noodles? Wayyyyy too doughy. Don’t even get me started on the broth, this is probably some of the worst gruel I’ve had.” He popped the piece into his mouth, and the room went super quiet, tension thick enough even Truth Teller wouldn’t have been able to cut it. 

To be honest, he was lying through his teeth, but being able to embarrass her like this was well worth it. This was probably one of the best meals he had ever had while in a camp, it was definitely better than what Windhaven called gruel. He looked around a smirk on his face, to see everyone still and tense. 

“If you don’t like it, General, you are free to leave at any time.” He didn;t like this he decided, her tone was cold and venomous. A silent anger on her features as she stood, plate in hand and walked from the mess hall.

Ferelith was still before she swiped up her own tray and scrambled after the head of camp. When the doors shut behind the small female he turned to the group of males he had been sitting with.

His brows furrowed in worry, “Why are you all so silent? What did I do?”

One of the males he had recognized as one of the generals from the training ring grimaced as he spoke. “The recipe for the beef and noodle gruel is her mothers, they were incredibly close.” 

Cassian winced. “I fucked up didn’t I?”

The males all nodded rapidly till one of them, the small male he had seen when he first landed into camp, an Oleander or something similar if he recalled correctly, spoke up. “Mr. Cassian sir, Lord of Bloodshed sir. If I may ask, what do you have against her? I just have noticed you seem to take joy in making her upset. She's a good leader sir, she doesn’t deserve whatever this is.”

There was a murmur of agreement and Cassian sighed. “To be honest, it started as a game  because she looked down on Rhys and I simply wanted under her skin, now though it's just kinda grown into a habit.” A partial lie but he wasn’t going to admit the truth, he could barely admit the truth to himself.

The small male spoke up again. “I just think, Casian sir, that you should maybe apologize to her, she does her best keeping up with everything here.”

“Right, Right. I’ll do it tomorrow and give her some time to cool off. I'm heading to my room. I'll see everyone in the morning for breakfast.” Cassian waved them off, dropping his own plate and tray off with the dishwasher. 

She had been nice enough to put him up in the guest room of her own house, he pulled the grand door open just enough to slip inside and moved up the stairs. He slipped into the dark room, not bothering to crawl under the covers, he kicked off his boots and slipped into warm night clothes, laying on top of the bed and staring at the ceiling contemplating everything. He finally had to admit it to himself and accept the fact the entire reason for annoying her was because he enjoyed the change of pace, enjoyed her being able to overpower him and put him in place. The first time she had shoved him against the desk had him realizing it made his pant tighten in the crotch, only seconded by the time she threw him out of her study and onto the floor resulting in the same reaction. 

He must have fallen asleep, because hew awoke to a small clatter and a mumbled “Fuck.” from the downstairs kitchen.

He dragged himself out of bed and down the stairs finding her nursing a cut finger and a broken glass. 

He leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed. “You okay?” He yawned.

She turned to glare at him. “What do you want? Come to insult me some more?” 

“Honestly? No, I was investigating the loud noise that woke me up. Look I’m sorry okay, I realize I pushed too far.”  He shrugged and took a few steps into the kitchen, leaning against the island counters opposite her. 

+

I watched Cassian round the islands and lean against the counters, I’ve had enough of his shit this past month. 

“Other than that, what the FUCK  do you want with me Cassian? You push and push and are only ever satisfied after I lash out at you or you embarrass me.  Why?” I hissed at him.

Cassian shifted from foot to foot and sighed before straightening his stance and swiping the hair from his face. He moved to lean over the sink with me, taking my hand in his and rinsing the now dried blood from my finger.

He sighed. “If I’m being 100% honest, this month has made me realize something about myself. It took me awhile to accept it but after I realized I pushed too far tonight I had to face it and figured I’d confront you about it in the morning or just leave tomorrow but seems the mother or the father, I know he's a more important figure to you, have deemed me to confront you about it tonight. Maybe confront is the wrong word…” Cassian rambled on.

“What are you talking about Cassian? Just answer my question already.” I tried to hiss at him but was ultimately stunned by his gentleness.

“Maybe confess is a better word here. Yeah. I wanted to confess to you about it tonight.” He nodded and I furrowed my brows at him.

“What are you on about? What is it you wish to confess, Oh Great General?” I rolled my eyes.

Cassian pulled the hand he was holding to his chest, my palm laying flat against the muscular skin. “I’ve come to realize I like it when you put me in place, I like that you can overpower me with a flick of your wrist. It's haunted me since the day you pinned me to the desk. I had to test my theory and was only proven right when you tossed me on the floor outside of your study, when I had the same reaction I didnt wanna accept it but the thrill of getting you to lash out at me like that; often times physically overpowering me, was incredibly addicting.”

I could feel his heart pounding. “Cassian.” I warned, but his puppy dog eyes as I looked down at him I gave in, a heat beginning to grow in my cheeks and I sighed. “And what was this reaction you speak about?” 

Those same puppy dog eyes greeted me with a nervous smile, he pulled at my wrist guiding my hand to the crotch of the sweatpants he wore. I turned my head to look down on him with a half-assed glare, he shifted slightly and I could feel him strain against my hand. 

“Ah I see.” I hummed. “And what would you like me to do about it?” 

The worry in his eyes turned a bit hopeful. “I’m normally the one incharge in these situations so this is kinda new to me but I’m not afraid to let a pretty and strong girl top me, if I get a request… make me forget my own name?” 

He turned his head slightly to the side exposing his neck, a habit of submission and obedience in illyrians. I looked down at him through my lashes with a smirk, id torture him back for what he out me through .

“And why would I do that Cass?” I stepped closer to him, my free hand coming to his chin to make him look up at me.

His eyes widened again and he swallowed an anxious breath. “I can relieve some of your stress. I’ll let you do whatever you want to, however you want me. I can take what you give me and if I get a bit too cocky or bratty just put me back in my place.”

I tilted my head with a chuckledirecred at him, he shifted again and I smirked. “And how do I know you could do whatever I want?” 

He licked his lips, his voice heavy with want. “You've seen me train, you know I have enough stamina for it. I’ve been at death's doorstep plenty of times if you are worried about being too rough: Don’t. Look, I can't believe I’m saying this, I can be your good boy if that’s what you’d like. Mam, respectfully, if you'd let me I promise I can blow your back out.”

I smiled down at him and I felt him throb when venom coated every word that fell from my mouth. “Then get upstairs. I want you on your knees by the end of my bed, you have a whole month of torture to make up for. I’ll be up there shortly, be shirtless when I get up there; pants optional since I know you don’t have anything under them.” 

I dropped his chin from my hand and squeezed him with my other, he groaned loudly, choking out his words as he tried to maintain his composure. “Yes mam.” 

He slipped out of the kitchen and I slipped into my office, scribbling out a small note for Ferelith to reschedule any and all appointments I had as I would be otherwise preoccupied and resting. Sitting the note on her desk pinned it by the corner with her paperweight and stepped out of the study, making sure the door clicking would be audible on the third floor where my room was. The third floor consisted of only my room, and was purposefully made so I could completely stretch my wings out. I slinked up the stairs, not a board creaking under foot. I wanted him on edge like I had been all month since his antics started, he would have heard the door shut and he would know I was coming up the stairs; but he wouldn’t know when and with how my bed was positioned he would have his back to the door.

The halls were dark, and I pushed the door to my room open slowly so it wouldn’t creak. Cassian was sitting facing the bed, his wings flared out and completely stripped. He must have felt me behind him as he straightened up how he was sitting and I heard his breathing stutter. I slipped into the space between his wings and ran my hands from the knuckle in his wings to the base, where the membranous skin met with his tanner skin. His back arched and he moaned loudly, I leaned down behind him and wrapped my arms around his neck.

I ran my hand under his chin and across his throat, I felt his throat bob as I leaned down and whispered in his ear. “Boo.” 

My grasp tightened on his throat and from my vantage point over his shoulder I watched his member twitch, satisfied with his reaction I nipped at his ear and pulled back. 

He moved to follow me but I gave him a warning look, he begged with his eyes and they would have been enough for me to give in had I not had a plan. “Mam.” 

“Now, now, Cassian, you have a lot to make up for. Before I give you the attention you so desperately want you have to apologize for your behavior.” I chastised him.

He whimpered, “I’m sorry for my behavior my Lady. I’ll make up for it I promise.” 

I chuckled. “How cute yet how pathetic it is that you think that's all the apology you need to make up for what you’ve done.”

I rounded his frame and sat on the foot of my bed, wings stretched out either side of me.  He moved to crawl towards me but I planted my toes into his chest and he stopped to look up at me desperately. 

I raked my eyes over him, finally allowing him to crawl towards me with a simple order. “Come here and strip me, I don't wish to do the work myself.”

He nodded. “Yes mam.”

After he stripped me, he spent hours between my legs at my order; hours that were spent between his mouth as a punishment for his slander and when I was satisfied he had made up for that I finally let him use his cock that he was so proud of, he had let it do his thinking for him and would learn better than that. He had spent several hours nestled between my legs pounding into me and seeking my praise, till I grew bored and pressed his back into the comforter. We had finished our night with him below me, wings spread out either side of him and his fingers dug into the flesh of my thighs. His hips followed mine the closer he got to his final release, whimpers, moans, and pleads left his mouth in rapid succession.

I had finally acknowledged his approaching climax with a smile on my face. “That's it baby” I crooned at him, “Now be a good boy for me and cum for me.” 

He had roared in response, his hips slamming up into mine, his hands slipping from my thighs and up to the base of my wings; his nails dug into the line where the membrane turned into tougher skin, it had been just enough to push me over the edge for the final time tonight. My head was thrown back and my hips stuttered, my wings flared open to their full extent as I screamed out his name; coming down from the high I panted out goodboy like a mantra to him but he seemed otherwise mesmerized as he stared into my wings, the soft faelights glittered against them and he ran his fingers softly over the pronounced bone.I had pulled myself off of him and collapsed beside him, he curled up into my side with his head resting between my collarbone and breast. We had fallen asleep together wrapped up in the comforter in the early hours of the morning.

It was well past noon when we were woken up by Ferelith knocking at the door. I sat up and moved to climb out of the bed, Cassian deep in slumber grumbled and tried to pull me back into the bed beside him. I pushed his bangs out of his face with a smile and wrapped my robe around my frame, Ferelith was smirking when I opened my door.

“I’ve got a letter for Cassian here.” She teased in a knowing tone. 

“And you knew he was up here how?”I quizzed.

“You said you were preoccupied and obviously that letter was from after I had left last night. It only made sense to me.” She chirped back smugly.

I took the letter from her hand. 

“Thank you Fere, you are dismissed.” I grumbled back.

She turned and walked away with a hop in her step and I shut the door softly, turning to find Cassian groggy and laying on his stomach propped up on his elbows.

“What's going on, love?” He mumbled and yawned.

“You’ve got a letter, from a…” I looked over the letter and turned it in my hands reading it off to him. “From an Azriel.”

Cassian perked up and pulled himself from bed. “Let me see.” 

I passed him the piece of parchment and raked my eyes over his body, noting he could do with putting a bit of weight on, a dad bod would do him some justice.

“Fuck.” Cassian cursed as he read the letter over.

“What's wrong?” I asked, raising one brow.

“Azriel needs me to report back in, or else he's sending a spy team out.” Cassian mumbled.

“So? Go back to Velaris, that's your home you can always swing by the camp when you have free time. I’m not gonna bar you from the camp, many of my warriors and villagers like your presence.” I shrugged, pulling on my day clothes. 

“I figured I would have a day or two more before I would have to go back.” Cassian sighed.

“So go report back to the shadowsinger, that's what he is right? My father tried to bring him here once but Devlon refused to release him.  Report to him, give it a couple days, and when you get a chance swing up here.” I snapped the buttons on my side closed. “I can clear my schedule for the day with my good boy.” I tilted his chin up and planted a quick kiss on his lips, he pouted when I pulled away.

“You sure? I wouldn't want to get in the way of camp duties.” He looked up at me with those golden hazel puppy dog eyes. 

“I’m sure Cass. You are always welcome here, and you are always welcome in my bed.”  I tilted his chin up to me with a smile.

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows back at me. I snorted and pushed him away. I moved to sit on a padded sofa and began lacing my boots back up. He stepped into the space behind me and placed kisses along the edge of my wings till he reached the leathers on my back. I shooed him away and he pouted dramatically as he began dressing into his own leathers. 

We slid down both flights of stairs. Ferelith had the door propped the study over, wiggling her own brows at me, I kissed Cassian farewell and slipped into my study while he slipped out the door. Ferelith looked awfully smug as she smiled up at me.

“What are you smug about?” I grilled her.

“Oh just that I definitely called Cassian having a thing for you, and now Leander, Saros, AND Larissa all owe me their cookies for a week.” She replied smuggly.

“You four placed bets on if Cassian liked me? Based on his actions purposely pissing me off?” I gave her a look of disbelief.

“Well there's more logic to it than that. Leander agreed with me but bet it would take longer. The other two disagreed but Saros said you would kick him out of the camp.” Ferelith chirped.

“Over the fucking mess hall’s cookies?” I furrowed my brows.

“Yup.” She smiled.

“Fucking mess hall cookies.” I sighed.

+

Over the next 5 years Cassian visited off and on, his final visit however felt off; he was anxious and on edge the entire three days he stayed with me.

“What's wrong?” I mumbled sitting against the headboard.

Cassian was laying on his stomach with his head in my lap, The silk sheets exposing the upper portion of his naked body as he bathed his wings in the rays of sun that came through the windows. 

“Something just feels off, like something wrong is happening. I'm worried about Rhys, it's been 45 years, Az’s spies can't even get anywhere near the mountain yet. I dont know im just a big ball of anxiety and at the same time its making me want to be protective over you and all of my family.” Cassian sighed nuzzling against my stomach and thighs. 

I ran my fingers through his hair, “I’m sure it will all be okay Cass.” 

Oh how wrong I was on that, it would not be okay. It would not be okay for at least 6 more years. I had ended up pregnant after Cassian's last visit, I had waited to tell him till the next time he appeared at my doorstep; but he didnt show, I got letters from him for sure. After our child had been born, a male that was undeniably ours, with Cassian’s tanned skin, hazel eyes, and black hair but my massive and white wings. 

I had ended up never truly telling Cassian, even when I had seen him for a split moment during the war with hybern. I had seen him in passing, dragging Larissa into a medtent while he was dragged into a medtent by Azriel and Rhys. The other two had no clue about the real nature of our relationship, that he had fathered the next heir of the star children’s bloodline.

By the time Rhys had released my squadron to go back to Angelsrest, I had yet to see Cassian but had got the privilege to meet my sister in law Feyre. I missed my boy, I had named him Rigel, after a star in the sky above my camp; and was just ready to go home and have him back in my arms. I dismissed the thought of searching for Cassian and regrouped with my generals.

My wings had ended up being fairly tattered around the edges of the membrane, the flight home was rough with the cold biting at the new wounds. We all landed and Rigel was bouncing beside Ferelith, he called out for me and jumped into my arms. Thankfully my camp suffered no major losses, it was handy being a specialist team with advanced training, our worst injury had been Larissa’s wing: A sword had gone through one of them and ripped a major hole through it, thankfully a healer managed to get the wing to heal itself back together with minor scarring.

Life continued on as it had before the war, before Cassian, with the addition of Rigel in the child classes we held. Everything had been food until Rhysand appeared at the front of camp. Solstice preparations were in progress, headed by a heavily pregnant Ferelith; she had been hooking up with Saros apparently since the bet.

I had come out of my study to force her to take a break when Rhys smiled at me, everyone in camp stilled and watched on silently; my wings flared in warning. The entire camp stayed silent until a loud cry broke out, I knew that cry… it was Rigel. I fought down my panic, as Ferelith waddled forward clutching Rigel in her grasp the best she could. His wings were scratched up and bloody, Saros was heading the children's class and was teaching them how to fly today; Rigel must have had a bad crash. Ferelith stilled when she saw Rhys there, but I motioned for Rigel to be brought up to me.

“Momma!” Rigel had cried in my arms and Rhys’s eyes widened.

“Sister… May we speak in private?” Rhys suggested eyed locked onto Rigel.

I motioned for him to join me in my home, but instead of my office I led him into a toy cluttered living room. I rocked Rigel and looked over his wings, Rhys sat stiffly across from me and his eyes never left Rigel’s tear-stained face. 

“He looks inexplicably like Cassian.” Rhys bluntly stated.

“That's because he is Cassian’s” I snipped back at Rhys.

“How?” Rhys mumbled. 

“Surely you know how babes are made, Rhys.” I said sarcastically.

“You know what I mean sister.” He deadpanned.

“About 11 years ago now, I sent a letter to you but you were under the mountain. Cassian came instead. We hit it off from there, about 6 years ago now I gave birth to Rigel here.” I replied.

Rigel’s sniffles slowed and he looked over at Rhys. “Rigel baby, this is your uncle Rhysand.” 

Rugel waved at rhys and yawned, Rhys waved back and Rigel began rubbing at his eyes trying to fight off the exhaustion crying caused. 

“He is astonishing. Does Cass know?” Rhys mumbled again.

“No I tried to tell him through letters but he never showed back up here, then at the war the only time I saw him was when you were dragging him into the med kit. I just resigned myself to keeping silent about it from Cassian.”I shrugged and Rigel nuzzled into my arm, soft snores coming from him.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Rhys sighed. 

“It's fine. You came here for a reason brother, what's wrong?” I changed the subject as quickly as I could.

“Well, originally I came here because both Feyre and I have been on this family united kick, and I suggested we invite you to Solstice. Feyre agreed, you see, it's also her birthday.” Rhys rambled. “But now with Rigel in the picture I believe you should come even more. It would be one hell of a solstice present.” 

“Only if Rigel is welcome will I come and I will leave if there is any drama over him.” I stood my ground.

“GREAT! Wonderful! Absolutely! That is expected of you my dear sister, we can't wait to see you there, I’ll show you from the House of the Wind then?” Rhsy stood excitedly.

I nodded in agreement, the solstice was only a week away. I would have to prepare both myself and Rigel for the emotional roller coaster this very well could be. 

When the week passed I strapped Rigel into fur covered leathers His wings were large, yes, and he could keep himself in the air for short periods of time and he could glide for sure, but he wouldn’t be able to make the flight between Velaris and our camp by himself, I had instructed him if he was tired to call out for me and I'd carry him. We would stay at the mountain house on solstice eve and Rhys would bring us down on solstice morning.  He had written to me to tell everyone to expect to buy a present for a male illyrian child and for his sister.  He had told me he bluffed when any of them asked, since he had explained I was his adopted sister who ran a camp for talented illyrians in the mountains and told them I had taken Rigel under my wing. He knew they would know the truth of his parentage the second they saw us but it was easier to bluff until we met them in person, so Cassian would still be surprised and Rigel would get solstice presents.  Rigel tired out about a quarter of the way through the flight and I carried him the rest of the way to Velaris.

I had bought Rigel a set of play armor with siphons and a fake sword, for Rhys I had gotten him a sculpture from one of our artists i had seen him eyeing when he invited me to solstice, Cassian's gift was Rigel, i didn't know much of the others so I let Rhys pick out gifts for me. 

Rhys was at the house with Feyre when I landed, both of them greeting me happily. Rigel was awake and jumped out of my arms to greet Rhys and Feyre. The latters eye widened as she processed who his sire had been.

“Oh my god he's Cassian’s isn't he?” She asked quickly.

Both Rhys and I nodded.

“Ohhhhhkay well tomorrow is going to be exciting.” Feyre sighed. “Get some rest you two we will see you in the morning.” 

Rhys showed us to our rooms before he showed himself out. I tucked Rigel into his bed, and was tucking myself into my own when a knock came from my balcony door; Cassian was standing outside with an eager smile on his face. I motioned for him to enter my room and he did so eagerly, throwing himself into my arms.

“Hey there momma, I figured I should call you that now since you’ve taken that boy under your wing now.” Cassian purred in my arms as I played with his hair.

“Actually Cass, about that…” I mumbled. 

“What’s up Momma?”  Cass hummed.

“Come with me Cass, I want you to meet him, I think you two will get along.” I purred back at him.

Cassian agreed, and I pulled him into Rigel’s room. Rigel was fast asleep on his stomach, wings neatly tucked over the blanket to hold it in place. Cassian slinked forward and moved Rigel’s bangs from his face. 

Cass sat at the side of his bed, running his fingers through the boy's hair. “He’s got your wings, you didn’t just take him under yours he is yours.” 

“That he is Cass, but you’ve recognized something else too haven’t you.” I stepped forward lowering myself onto my knees in front of Cassian.

“He looks so familiar yet so different, like looking in a mirror.” Cassian mumbled.

“You know why that is right Cass?” I placed my hand on his knee and he looked over to me with those caramel puppy dog eyes.

“He's mine isn’t he?” Cassian had tears welling in his eyes.

“Yeah, Cassian, he is yours. I wanted to tell you earlier but you weren't able to come to the camp despite all my urging, and then the next time I saw you Rhysand and azriel were dragging you into a med tent.” I replied sadly.

“I could have had so much more time with you, I could have had a life with you earlier… Oh mother, I’ve missed so much of his life that I can’t make up for.” Cassian began quietly sobbing, as to not wake the child he now knew was his son.

“You can still be there for him Cass, I’m sure there is still room in our lives for you.” I mumbled.

“I’d love that. I really would. I’m just so sorry I couldn’t have been there earlier. I’ve been so miserable here doing Feyre and Rhys’s bidding. Feyre’s sister is my mate you see, but I have never wanted anything to do with her, and she's miserable to be around. I’ve thought about breaking it plenty of times and now you have just given me a solid reason to.” Cassian wiped his tears and grasped my hands in his.

“Cass…”I gave him a look of pity.

“You’d still have me then wouldn’t you? There would still be room for me wouldn’t there?” Cassian whimpered.

“Oh Cassian! Of course there is, like I told you there will always be a place open for you with me.”  I pulled him down into a chaste kiss.

“I wish I could have been there for his younger years, I’ve missed so many milestones already.” Cassian sighed.

“Don’t worry Daddy, there's always more milestones ahead.” I soother him with an added nickname, he whimpered out a sob.

‘Can we have another one too? I wanna be there for the firsts at least once, I wanna be able to support you through everything at least once.” He begged softly.

“Oh my good boy of course we can, now lets go climb into bed, get some good sleep and in the morning we can go out together to the house. You can take Rigel with you to the snowball fight you told me about.” I mused.

“Rigel? That’s his name?” I nodded to Cassian’s question. “That’s the name of the star above your camp isn’t it? The star the father sent to guide you home?” Cassian sniffled.

“Yes, I named him after that star.” I nodded.

He pulled me up from the floor and spun me around. “To bed then?”

“To bed.” I nodded.

“So we can face tomorrow as a family united.” Cassian smiled brightly and pulled me into a kiss.

I knew from here on out Rigel and I’s lives would change forever, and Cassian would fit right into it as our missing pieces. Tomorrow I would let Cassian introduce himself to Rigel and the two could bond over the snowball fight with Rhysand and Azriel. Everything is going to be okay, and Cassian would make sure of that, he had purpose and reason now; he was excited to move forward with his son and to help bring in a new one and raise it, this time he would be there for the firsts he’d make sure of that.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria

#acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction #cassian acotar #cassian x reader

[cherry-pop-elf]

Honey, I’m Home-!

Sirius Black x Mom! Reader

Ever since Sirius was sent to Azkaban, you were the one in charge of raising Harry. Doing your best, and lucky to have Remus to help. Because of that, a certain Rat wasn’t able to avoid any of your gazes. When Harry’s third year came to a end, you were given quite a surprise at the train station

Warnings 18+, P in V, Female Reader, high emotions, hurt comfort, fluffy and heated sex, getting back together, implied breeding kink, taking care of your man with baths food and you, sir this bed is about to be destroyed with how hard he’s going to rail you. Also, implied Wolfstar/ Remus x You/Poly situation deal up in here hehehehe

“Harry-!” You called, with a smile. Always there to pick him up from the station, every single time. As a good parent would. Ever since you found out he had such a risk to end up at the Dursleys, like hell you would let that happen. Made you pamper him a bit, given your good friends lost their lives for him. But like hell he didn’t deserve it.

“Shhh shh-!” Harry was soon hushing his friends, leaving you confused. Hermione and Ron quick to hush up, while Remus would set the last of the bags off the train. Wanting to help out, since there were so many Weasleys to worry about. The way he smiled, you were even more curious. You couldn’t recall the last time he looked so relieved. Was there a change in laws that permitted him to work at Hogwarts?

“Children, settle down. Settle down. Go on and show her the surprise.” He teases them, as he would help Molly with the rest of the Weasleys. He threw you a wink, which had you very confused. Not what did that Marauder have in mind this time?

“Mum…..Can we get a dog?” Harry asked you, as the trio stood next to each other. With cuts and bruises all over, but smiling. Even Ron seemed chipper, despite the fact he was in crutch. The hell did those three get into this time?

“A dog-? Harry….You know why we can’t get a dog.” You sighed, not wanting to have this discussion again. With out Sirius, you just couldn’t. Any dog was to painful of a reminder. Oh how you miss your padfoot. What you would give to see him again.

“Mum, please? He’s got no where else to go. Just look at him-“ Harry pleaded, as the trio stepped aside. The dog now exposed to you. Was so painfully skinny, yet also so furry at the same time. Matted fur, and just looking like a grim. He looked so much like Sirius, but so dead as well. Your heart just couldn’t say no this time.

The defeated sigh had them cheer, as Remus returned. Still giving you this coy smile, that had you furrow your brows. You felt like you were missing something, but you didn’t know what. You just knew that it was time to take everyone home.

With Harry hugging his friends goodbye, while this new dog stuck close to your legs, Remus would catch up quickly with Molly. Explaining something. You swore it was about Scabbers, but the new playmate was keeping your attention. Suddenly jumping on you, and licking your face.

“ACK-! HEEL HEEL-!” You called, as the dog was just to strong. How was something so fragile so durable? Reminded you of Sirius. How even in his dog form he was able to tackle people down. Was just making your heart hurt more, which in a morbid sense made you unable to refuse the dog either.

“Mum, Uncle Remus said you should head home with our new dog. He needs me to stay here and catch Mrs. Weasley up on stuff.” The way he fidgeted with his glasses told you it was a mixture of a lie and some truths. What the hell were these people planning? Was this some scheme to help you move on? Accept Sirius was never coming back? That hurt, but also a point was made. Who can escape Azkaban?

“Alright. But be home before dark.” You warned, as you kissed his forehead. Right on his scar, which made him smile. He made sure to give you a hug, before quickly returning to the red heads. Poor Molly looked ready to faint. Make that she did, and the twins had to catch her. Yeah, like hell you wanted to be involved with that.

“Alright, let’s-“ But the dog was running. Right through the wall, with no hesitation. You were flabbergasted, but had no time to think. Harry’s new dog was running off. No way you wanted his poor heart broken over that. So, you ran after it. Trying to catch up, but it seemed high on life.

“GET BACK HERE-!” You hollered, as the dog was running like it was the last thing it could ever do. You were so focused on trying to catch up to it, you barely noticed where you were running towards. By the time you finally caught up, you were wheezing. Hands on your knees, as the door the dog stopped at opened.

“About time Master and Mistress Black returned.” Kreacher sneered, as the dog hurried inside. Did he say what you think he said? No way. That can’t be Sirius. No way in hell. Looks like him, but he’s in Azkaban. You don’t just escape Azkaban. Sure, the daily prophet said he did. But it was more than likely gossip gone wild. You swore every week they said someone did, only for them to be returned the next day.

“Kreacher, phew, give me a minute here.” You coughed, as you stumbled inside. Left for the building to vanish, in the early morning fog. As if it was never there. Leaving you to be alone, with the elf and dog, as you hung up your coat.

You did your best with making the home more live able. The spare rooms built for whenever Harry wanted friends over for the summers. Along with just a safe haven for friends in need of a stay. You turned what was once a cage, into a proper home. Seemed the dog loved it, as it was quick to run up the stairs. Bolting past the curtained painting, and straight to your bedroom.

“How does it….No. no this can’t be. No way…” It was starting to become harder to deny, as you walked up the stairs. By the time you reached the door, you heard it. That familiar eerie bone cracking, when a animagus was changing forms. No way. It couldn’t be. It can’t-

“Home sweet home-“ That gruff voice sung to you, as you opened the door. There he was. Your husband. Your world. Your everything. Standing there, bending his back, as he sported a tattered Azkaban uniform. Bloody, dirty, hardly clothing at all. Hair a mangled mess, and in desempate need of a bath and shave. He was so sickly thin, the very thin fabric was just a sheet on him. Hardly could process it, when those dark eyes locked on yours. Hair so long now, and body tattered. No matter the design, it was still him. Your Sirius.

“Hardly changed a day…” He dreamily said, with that exhausted smile. He was so drained, but you could still see the pure joy in his eyes. He was home. He was with you, and could be there for Harry now. His best friend Remus was in his life again. He’s not in that damn prison, and he’s in your sight once more.

You didn’t care about the grime, as you practically fell into his arms. Sobbing in joy, as he held you close. Despite his thinner structure, he was able to hold you tightly. As tightly as he could, and sway with you. No need for words. Just gentle tears.

That was why Remus was so coy, and why Harry had you two run off. You two needed time to reconnect. Even so young, Harry could grasp how important this was. Guess you were rasing him right. Seemed also that Kreacher might have missed Sirius as well, because you could hear a bath being run. No one asked for it, but he did it. His own free choice. He missed him, in his own way.

“Darling, I love you so much. I really do, but I am so fucking gross right now. You know I’m being honest when even I’m unable to handle my own stink. I’ve had sex with Moony under a full moon. I’m GROSS gross right now. I will kill for a bath-“ He went on, making you just laugh with your tears. Despite the years in such a horrific prison, he was still himself. Guess he was always a little insane.

You didn’t let him go an inch, as you trailed after him to the bathroom. More than happy to help him wash. Just enjoying the needed intimate moment. Just a wife, washing her husband. By god was he filthy. By the time Harry and Remus returned, he was finally drying off. You had no idea if the bathtub will ever recover. Least he was now in his favorite black robe.

“I’ve got dinner handled, don’t worry-!” Remus called, as Sirius would come down the stairs with you. Unable to let go of his arm, and he hardly complained. He missed your touch all the same, as you two would enter the dinning room. Where Harry sat.

“Guess we better start from the beginning.” Harry murmured. You had already gotten used to your son’s insane adventures, but this one took the cake. He got his god father out of Azkaban, somehow-? Yeah, you were sitting down for this. Mindlessly playing with the exposed chest hair you could grab, as the trio of misfits began to explain.

Even while eating, more like Sirius devouring anything in sight, there was so much to discuss. Was mostly Remus, and Harry, speaking. Given Sirius was more so busy hiding during that time frame. Oh how your heart had broken, and repaired, over and over from it all. Your poor husband. But, he’s back now. He’s back, and he’s never leaving you again.

“I know you are my god father and all, but….Do I call you dad now-?” Harry asked. He’s thirteen, still a child after all. It’s going to be a lot to process, even by Wizard standards. With his meal finished, Sirius did have to think a moment. Dispite the fact Harry knew Sirius from stories, because of you and Remus, he was still a stranger after all.

“Uncle Padfoot will work just fine.” He smiled, as he ruffled Harry’s hair. That made the young teen give an awkward grin, as there was something to work with now. Uncle Moony and Uncle Padfoot. It’s a start, and you couldn’t be happier. Just staring with such love to him, with your head on his shoulder. Taking in that scent, as Remus was unable to stop his smile to.

“Harry, dear, why don’t we go out for a walk. Hm?” Remus asked him, making the boy raise a brow. Why would he want to….Oh. Right. Remus would give a gentle head nudge towards the door, and Harry was quick to get the message. Grabbing his jacket, wand, and chasing after his uncle. Not wanting to say another word, as he really rather not think about his mother’s sex life. Even if it’s with his god father.

The second the door closed, you were yanked from your chair. You gave a squeak, as you were tossed over his shoulder. Just like the old days at school. Whenever he wanted your attention, he simply tossed you over his shoulder. Forcing you to pay attention to him, as he would steal you to a private room for a discussion.

“I’m not letting you out of that bed until the head board breaks-“ He warned, as that had your heart racing. Twelve years is a long time, and there was most certainly some catching up to do. You couldn’t deny that, as you watch the stairs trail behind him. Escorting you to your once shared bedroom. Now together again.

You were plopped right on the bed, and he was on you like the hungry dog he was. Stealing you into his lips, and you couldn’t stop your moaning. It had been so long. You needed him as badly as he needed you. How you were enjoying the new long hair, and tangling your fingers into it. Needing as much skin as you could get from him.

He was more than happy to give it to you. The robe thrown aside, as he was pulling at your clothes. Not giving damn if they tore. Nothing else mattered in this moment. He wanted to fuck his wife, and by god was he going to. Twelve years, in Azkaban. He’s going to get all twelve years of pent up desire out in one night. Will your body recover? Do you even care?

“Sirius-“ You sighed, as he finally got your top off. His face buried into your chest, as he snapped your bra strap off. Tossing it aside, as he drank you up. Just feeling your skin on his, and savoring the long missed flesh against his bearded face. Feeling that freshly softened hair on your chest felt so good. Every single fiber of your existence was on fire. Felt like you might implode.

“Not a day passed by, that I wasn’t thinking of you. You, Remus, Harry, you three were what kept me sane. I knew you three were safe with each other. Waiting for me. I came back. I came back, like I promised.” He sighed, as you felt the tears on your chest. Gentle fingers played with his hair, as to try and calm him down. Comforting him.

“I always knew you would.” You felt so silly thinking Remus would ever try and help you move on. Hypocrite he would have been. Human emotions be human emotions, and they were being carnal right now. Needing to burn and burn and burn.

“Have me again, like you’ve had me before.” You asked him, as you cupped his face. Having that thick beard nuzzle into your palm, as those dark eyes stared up to yours. So much pain in his face, but comfort in his eyes. It’s a long journey to recover, but his soul was still there. His body is damaged, but a body can repair. A mind is harder, and that was the battle. A battle he won.

With a kiss to your palm, he would soon attack your lips. Growling into you, as he pulled away the rest of your clothes. Needing to devour your body. Soon marking away at your neck, your chest, your arms. If there was anything his lips could grasp, and making sure you were marked. As if to remind the world you belonged to him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. Not anymore.

“Sirius, how can you still be such a tease?” You whined, as he was grazing his teeth over your thigh. Leaving a bite on your flesh. Letting himself enjoy the flavor of the tingling flesh under his tongue.

“What? I’m an old dog. Old dogs have bad habits.” He teased, before he finally allowed you to get some attention. He really didn’t change, and you were shocked. Never thought being abused could be useful. Only a Black would have such a morbid survival skill.

Before any more depressing thoughts could fill your head, you were able to enjoy the familiar sight. Your husband between your legs, with his cock rubbing against you. The tip of his cock coming into view, whenever he rolled his hips up and down. Rubbing right on your clit, and making you whimper. Sure you’ve played with yourself, but nothing beats his touch.

You both were gripping tightly. Him on your thighs, while you grabbed his shoulders. Needing to feel him in your hands. You both needed it so badly, but both held a near fear. As if afraid that it was all a dream. Luckily, he had the nerve to test that fear. Test it, as he finally pushed in.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this-“ He moaned, as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. The way he growled, and his body just shivered. Aching, and moaning. Might spill just then, if he didn’t stop. Just savoring the feeling of being back inside of you, and how your eyes watered from pure comfort. To have your husband back.

He would lean down, and kiss away your tears, before he allowed himself to move. Just moaning for you, as his nails dug into your flesh. Marking you more, as you moaned into each others mouths. Needing to drink in every last thing you both could offer. So much to catch up on, and to make up for.

With the tender moment passing, you were soon reminded of the wild man you married. The feeling of your legs being pushed towards your shoulders, as he tried to get into you deeper. With his hands now on your ankles, as he was snapping his hips into yours. Needing to make sure you felt ever inch of him.

You loved it, and missed it, all. The feeling of your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his hair. How he growled into you, and the snarls. Oh how you loved how animalistic he was for you. How he would bark and howl at the beg and call to you. Your big bad wolf.

It was all you missed. Had you in a mixture of tears, and pure desire. How he wanted to fight your tears, and kissed you. As heated as he could, to make up for the years parted. To taste you, and savor you all over again. Just the sounds of your moans, the creaking bed, and the flesh on flesh.

You didn’t know how long it lasted, but you felt him pull your lip. Sinking his teeth into it. A typical sign that he was close. A need to ground himself, to last a little longer. Oh how you missed his little habits. That thrill of pain again sent you over, as you came with him. To be as connected as possible.

You expected to get a moment to savor the after glow, but he kept true to his word. You were soon tossed onto your stomach, with the ass in the air. Of course he wanted doggy. It’s cheesey, but a favorite. Suppose one more round could be mustered.

One more became two, and three, and soon you had to chug a Pepper Up potion to keep up. You lost track of the rounds, before you were laid on your back. Soaked in sweat, and sticky from it all. Sheets hardly on the bed, and you were certain there were cracks in the wood. Hardly could breathe, but it seemed he was satisfied.

“Pretty sure you fucked a dozen kids into me.” You wheezed, as he chuckled. Enjoying a much needed cigarette, but still making sure you were comforted. Having your head in his lap, as he played with your face. Admiring all your features.

“Good.” He snickered, as you swatted at his hand. The both of you able to share a laugh, as there was a soft knock at the door. All Sirius had to do was give a sniff in the air, and he knew who it was. A whistle was given, before he grabbed a pillow for you. So you could cover up, despite the fact Remus has certainly saw you naked many times.

“Feeling better now-? Could have used a silencing charm. Had to tell Harry Kreacher was fixing a wardrobe.” Remus scoffed, with a tray of needed drinks and snacks. He would set it down on the bed side table, before joining on the bed. He deserved to catch up with Sirius to. Fine by you.

With some shifting, you were soon snuggled between the two men. Sirius still playing with your hair, as the two men remained sitting up. Keeping their voices low, so you could drift. Just able to be safe, and warm, again. Snuggling your husband, and comforted by the sound of old memories.

What a wonderful lullaby.

#harry potter #Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black x reader smut #remus lupin #Sirius black smut #prisoner of azkaban #Harry Potter prisoner of Azkaban #implied Wolfstar #hp poa #poa #x reader #x reader smut #sirius black x fem!reader #mom reader #wanted to try something new #something different #I still love my Weasleys tho #they my fav #but I can write other stuff to #I swear #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fandom #hp fandom #hp fanfcition #padfoot #padfoodblackdog #post azkaban sirius #sirius in azkaban

[juniperskye]

Like I Talk To Myself.

Sneak Peek:  Being the new kid in school has Jason and his asshat friends saying some horrible shit to you. In attempt of being your white knight, Eddie finds out that it’s not Jason and his goons who you need to be saved from. Eddie’s POV. Indented section is a phone call (italics are Eddie and bold is Wayne)

Eddie Munson x Fem Reader

Hurt/Comfort

Word count: 2004

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, language, reader is clinically depressed, mentions of abusive home life, description of injuries from abuse, bad medication management, self-deprecation, suicidal thoughts, mention of self-harm, description of injuries related to self-harm. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE THEMES ARE TRIGGERING TO YOU!!! If I missed any, let me know!  

That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

The new girl had been here for nearly two months now. I had tried really hard to hide how into her I was, but the guys pretty much guessed it the second they saw me checking her out. She was different than the girls here in Hawkins, she kept to herself, not pursuing the usual popular guys. Truthfully he hadn’t seen you attempt to pursue anyone in your time here.

She was in my math class and every day she would come in with her head down, hood up, and quickly find a seat in the back. She’d end up doodling most of the class, like she was right now. The bell ringing startled her, I really wanted to reach out and comfort her, she seemed like she needed it.

I exited the classroom right behind her, only to watch Andy slam right into her. Her books went flying all over the hallway and Andy started yelling at her.

“Watch where you’re going you stupid bitch.” Andy roared.

“Woah Andy, back off. You ran into her!” I had no idea why I was interjecting.

“Oooh I get it! The freak found himself a freakette.” Jason chimed in.

“No, that’s not…” I stuttered.

“I don’t give a shit. Just keep that bitch on a leash, or next time, I’ll kick your ass.” Andy barked.

I looked back to see her scrambling to grab her things and make her way out the doors that lead to the football field. Jason and his idiot friends had been treating her like this since she arrived. They had initially tried to get in her pants and when she refused they called her things like prude, virgin Mary, but then it escalated to slut and whore. And now their name of choice had been bitch.

I made quick haste of following her, something in me just needed to make sure she was okay. As I moved to trail her, my foot made contact with something. I glanced and recognized it immediately as the notebook she’s always carrying. I picked it up and a few pages fell out, leaning over to grab them, my breath escaped me. The words and images scrawled on these pages were dark.

I picked up the pace and saw that she was headed to the picnic table in the clearing. I wasn’t far behind, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t startle her, so I called after her, just as she was sitting down.

“Hey!”

“What do you want?” She snapped.

“I uh, I wanted to make sure you were okay. Plus, I wanted to give this back to you.” I explained.

“Did you go through this?” She accused.

“No, but some of the pages fell out and I did see them…you’re not gonna go through with it are you?” I asked.

“Dude, that is none of your business. It’s not like anyone would miss me anyway.”

“I would.” I mumbled.

“You don’t know me.” She said.

I moved to sit next to her on the bench, sure to leave her enough space. Being this close to her, I could see how her skin looks dull, her cheeks sunken in, her hair looked brittle. In front of me was a girl who was going through a really hard time, and I wanted to do anything in my power to lift some of her burden.

“I don’t know much about you, but I’d really like to. I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of Jason’s torture.”

“Eddie, if they think that they can make me cry more than me, they’re wrong. It’s my voice in my head telling me I’m better off dead. Not Jason’s, not Andy’s, mine.” She explained.

I was speechless, I truly couldn’t believe that she felt this horrible. I had seen this girl and the amazing things she was capable of; she had silently helped others in her time here. She would loan out a pencil if it was needed, she had given her lunch to a kid who couldn’t afford it, hell, she had pulled a kid out of the way of Andy in the hall just last week so they wouldn’t have to endure what she did today. She was such a good person and he wished she could see it.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” I asked her.

“I guess…you already know way too much about me.” She shrugged.

“In your notebook, I saw something about you hurting yourself…is that true?”

She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap. I was fully expecting her to tell me off and walk away, I had clearly pushed a boundary. But instead, she reached for her zipper, pulled it down and slid her jacket off her shoulders. She folded it neatly and placed it on the table, revealing her arms to me. A choked noise escaped my throat as my eyes roamed over the number of scars that littered her arms. There were scars that were clearly from cigarettes, other burn type scars and a bunch of neat parallel lines that varied in color. Some were white and obviously healed, some were raised scars from the depth, and some were red and recently scabbed over.

“It’s bad. I know.” She shook her head, a tear falling and landing on her jeans.

“Hey, there is no judgement. I just, I am curious to know why.” I replied.

“Why? I don’t…I’ve never been asked that before. I mean my parents treat me like shit, my dad likes to fight when he’s drunk. And my mom, she belittles me every chance she gets…she thinks depression is a joke and that I am making things up. Even after being diagnosed, she still thinks I am trying to get attention, she withholds my prescription from me sometimes.” She paused, she looked surprised at herself that she’d been able to vent freely.

“Honestly Eddie…by inflicting physical pain, I am able to shift my focus to that instead of the emotional pain. It allows me this release of all the horrible shit I am feeling after dealing with school or home.”

I looked at her, gently reached up to brush a strand of her hair back and then grabbed her hand. I locked eyes with her again, to make sure she was okay with this, and when she nodded subtly, I brought her wrist to my lips and placed a light kiss there.

“I just want the pain to end Eddie.” She sniffled.

“I know that things are really shitty right now, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that it’ll get better, but I do know that there are steps we can take to improve it little by little and I want to help you do that if you will let me.”

*Two Months Later*

I had just gotten to school and made my way to her locker and waited, just as I had done every day for the last two months. I had promised her that I would be by her side in any way I could, and I wasn’t about to break that promise. Only, today she didn’t show. Maybe she was running late…right? I headed off to English and hoped I would see her in third period for math. When she wasn’t there, I knew I had to find her.

I left the school and drove straight to her house; I couldn’t stomach the thought of what I might find. I didn’t want to drive without knowing if she was okay, but I also couldn’t waste any more time.

I didn’t take the time to park, leaving the van diagonally in her driveway. Rushing over to the door and throwing it open.

“Hey peach, you here?” I called out, hoping she’d be sick on the couch, but when I was met with silence I made my way to the stairs, taking them two at a time. “Peach?”

I heard a quiet sob come from the bathroom and began knocking.

“Hey peach, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“No Eddie, go away, please.” She cried.

“You know I can’t do that, not until I see you’re okay.” I pleaded.

The lock to the door clicked after a moment and I quickly opened the door. The sight I was met with was one I never wish to see again. She was sat on the bathroom floor in a tank top and shorts, drops of blood were pooling on the tiles below her. Only it wasn’t of her own doing, she had a black eye, split lip and eyebrow, a sizeable cut across her cheek, and bruises littering her arms and legs.

“Peach. Who did this to you?”

“Eddie…”

“Peach. Who. Did. This.”

“My dad.” She sobbed, dropping her head into her hands.

I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. My vision was tinted in crimson, rage filling my being. I knew I needed to keep my cool though, I didn’t want to upset her anymore than she already was.

I looked at her and asked her if I could help clean up those cuts. She nodded and let me lift her to the countertop. I cleaned and bandaged her cuts and helped her to her room, I told her to lie down and went to grab her a water and some Tylenol. Once in the kitchen I grabbed the phone, dialing home.

Hey Wayne…I need a favor. My friend, That girl you call peach?  yeah peach. Are you with her now? Tell her I said hi! I will Wayne. She uh, she needs a place to stay. Eds we shouldn’t get into other people’s business…plus she’d have to stay in your room…and I don’t want any funny business under my roof. No, I know. Wayne it’s bad. She can stay here. Okay, thank you.

I made my way back to her room and handed her the water and Tylenol. I didn’t know how to suggest to her that we pack all her stuff and get her out of here, but I know I needed to. She deserved to be in a home where people loved and cared about her…not stuck here in this hell her parents have created for her.

“Hey peach…”

“Eddie…”

“You go first.” I suggested.

“I um, I know it’s a big ask…but do you think maybe I could…you know what never mind.” She shook her head.

“I called Wayne when I was downstairs. I asked him if you could stay with us, and he said yes.” I explained.

“Really? Thank you Eddie!” She sniffled and pulled me into a hug.

“Let’s get you packed!”

After gathering her things, we made our way out to the van. She left a note for her parents explaining that they didn’t need to worry about her, not that they had before. And we headed back to the trailer. Wayne came outside to help bring her things in as we pulled up, when he saw her face, he glanced at me and gave me a short nod. We got her things inside, and I helped her unpack some of her stuff.

Wayne ordered us a pizza and bid us goodnight as he left for work. I let her shower first and then after we’d both showered and brushed our teeth, we got into bed. Only after she told me it was unacceptable for me to sleep on the floor.

“I gave him the finger.” She whispered.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“He was yelling at me and calling me names. I uh, I gave him the finger and told him to go to hell.” She explained.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” She chuckled “I’m not going to tolerate being called useless, stupid, or being told I am too hard to love. Not by them and not by me. Not anymore.” She turned over and smiled at me.

I couldn’t help but smile back. She was so easy to love, and I couldn’t wait to show her that.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #corroded coffin #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #eddie munson angst #eddie munson au #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson angst blurb #sstranger things blurb #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #mechanic!eddie #mechanic!eddie x reader #mechanic!eddie x y/n #dad!eddie munson #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 1

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: You (Jake’s younger sister, Emma) were gutted by the way your first (and only) relationship ended, you’re not looking for anything but some fun. Bradley Bradshaw shows up for your older brother’s wedding and is eager to scratch your itch, but refuses to let it be a one-time thing. Will you let him mend the heart he didn’t break?

*Should be able to read alone but helps to read Jake and Charlie’s story, ‘In Case You Didn’t Know’ first.

Warnings: 18+. MDNI! This chapter contains adult language and situations, future chapters will have smut. There’s probable veterinary inaccuracies-I work in people healthcare, not animal healthcare 🥴TW: unwanted/nonconsensual touching/advances. Please message me if you have questions.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Thanks for letting me get ready here, I was afraid I wouldn’t have time to shower and get ready after that last call. Does this look okay?” You ask as you check your reflection in the mirror.

“No problem,” your oldest friend and soon-to-be sister-in-law, Charlie answers as she comes into the guest bedroom. “Emma Lou, you look gorgeous. That dress new?”

Charlie and Jake had invited you over for dinner to meet the other half of their wedding party, Bradley Bradshaw.

“Kind of? I got it at the beginning of last summer, just haven’t worn it yet. It’s too short for church and can’t really wear a dress when I’m wrangling farm animals,” you laugh.

“Well, you could if you really wanted too. I’m sure the farmers wouldn’t mind,” she teases.

“Ew,” you shudder, thinking about one client in particular you work with. “No thanks.

“Anderson still being gross?” Charlie asks, reading your mind.

“Uh-huh. Speaking of, I have to go out there tomorrow, he thinks one of his cows is pregnant,” you sigh, following her to the kitchen.

“Can’t Gav or Noah go instead?” She asks, washing her hands at the sink.

“I’m sure either would in a second,” you reply, wetting your hands too. “They’ve been nothing but great since I joined the practice, but I haven’t told them how he acts towards me. They’d fire him in an instant if they found out. It’s dumb, but I feel like he wins if he knows it bothers me. Plus he brings a lot of money into the practice. Ky comes with me too.”

Charlie frowns but then nods. “Okay, but be careful. He’s a dead man if he ever lays a hand on you,” she warns.

You don’t tell her that he already has.

“So this Bradshaw guy…Is he as hot in person as he is on Insta?” You ask, changing the subject.

“Nope,” she laughs, drying her hands. “Even hotter.”

“Off to a good start. Straight? Single?”

“Yes and yes. He told Jake he was going to ask me out but I think it was just to push Jake into telling me how he felt,” Charlie replies.

“Should’ve done that 10 years ago,” you mutter, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

“Bradley’s a sweetheart. I think you’d make a cute couple.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “I’m just looking to get laid. My vibe isn’t cutting it anymore.”

“What’s not cutting it anymore?” Jake asks as he walks into the kitchen behind the two of you.

“My vibrator. I was telling Charlie I need to get laid,” you answer, forgetting Jake was picking Bradley up from his hotel on the way home.

Jake coughs awkwardly, “Bradshaw, this is my sister, Emma.”

You cringe, laughing as you turn around, refusing to be embarrassed.

Damn. Charlie wasn’t lying; he is hotter in person. Dressed in tight jeans with a Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his dog tags, and a white tank clinging to his defined chest.

“Couldn’t have led with that, Jake?” You glare at your older brother before turning to Bradley with a smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Bradley, or Rooster if you want. Nice to meet you too,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed and his deep brown eyes twinkle with amusement as he takes your outstretched hand, making it look small. Your eyes flicker to his dog tags, wishing you could reach out and grab them to pull him in for a kiss.

“Who wants a beer?” Charlie asks, breaking the spell.

“Me, please, and thank you,” you answer as you reluctantly pull your hand away, wondering how his callouses would feel on other parts of your body.

“I’ll take one too, thanks,” he answers as his eyes do a perusal of you.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“So you’re a vet?” Bradley asks as you finish your singer around Jake and Charlie’s kitchen table.

“Yep. Large animals mostly, but I’ll cover the clinic if needed,” you reply.

“Emma was always the smart one,” Jake says, nudging you with his elbow.

“And the pretty one, and the sweet one, and the strong one…” you tease.

“Strong one is true,” Charlie agrees, squealing as Jake pinches her.

“I’ll never hear the end of it ‘cause Em beat me in arm wrestling once or twice,” Jake rolls his eyes.

“Once or twice?! I was 14 the last time you beat me,” you scoff as Charlie laughs in the background.

“Sounds like there needs to be a rematch,” Bradley says, sipping his beer.

“I’m in,” you shrug, looking at Jake.

“Fine.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Everyone helps clear the table and load the dishwasher. It’s refreshing to see a man besides your dad and Jake help; you and Jake were raised without household gender roles but most of the men you know weren’t.

“Alright, on 3. Jake,” Charlie looks at him as she holds your intertwined hands. “No cheating.”

You laugh at the look he gives her.

“1, 2, 3!” Charlie says and releases your hands.

Jake’s stronger than you remember, but still not as strong as you. You let him push your arm a little, biting your lip to not laugh at the look of surprise that flashes over his face before you take a deep breath and push his arm down.

“Oh come on, you totally dropped your shoulder!” Jake argues.

“She did not, you’re just a sore loser,” Charlie laughs, kissing his cheek.”

“Gym muscle just doesn’t compare to farm muscle,” you grin, flexing your bicep.

“Guess not,” Bradley smiles.

Your phone rings and you frown when you see that it’s your tech, Ky.

“It’s work. Sorry, I gotta take this,” you excuse yourself to the front porch.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Everything okay?” Jake asks when you come back inside.

“Yeah,” you nod. “It was my tech. His kid is sick so he won’t be with me tomorrow.”

“So you have to go to Anderson’s alone?” Charlie asks, remembering your conversation from earlier.

“Yep,” you sigh, flopping down on the couch.

“As in Jim Anderson? The pervy old fuck?” Jake asks, sitting forward on the couch.

“That’s the one. He thinks one of his heifers is pregnant and I’ve got to go take a look at her before the weekend.”

“Shit,” Jake sighs, thinking. “I’d go with you but we meet with the pastor tomorrow morning. I’ll call him and see if we can-“

“No. You’re getting married in a few days. I can handle it,” you assure him.

“I know you can,” Jake agrees, “But it’d make me feel better if you weren’t alone.

“I can go with you,” Bradley offers. “I was just going to hang out at the hotel while these guys were busy.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you shake your head. “It’s smelly and gross.”

“I don’t mind,” Bradley shrugs.

“He can use some of my old clothes and work boots,” Jake adds. “I know you can hold your own, Em, but I really don’t like that guy.”

Knowing Jake won’t drop it, you sigh and look at Bradley. “You really don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I think it’d be cool,” he smiles so genuinely that you can’t help but believe him.

“Okay. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley’s waiting outside the lobby holding two coffees when you pull up the next morning in your work truck. He looks good enough to eat, even if he is wearing your brother’s Wranglers and a Longhorn tee; your Alma mater.

“Two creams, no sugar,” Bradley says, handing a travel cup over. “I texted Jake how you take it,” he answers before you can ask.

You take a sip. “Oh it’s perfect, thank you. I was gonna treat you since you’re helping me out.”

“You’re saving me from a morning of scrolling on my phone, it’s the least I could do,” he replies. He’s practically vibrating in his seat as you pull out of the driveway.

“Excited?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a grin. “I’ve never been up close to a cow before”

You laugh. “Really?”

“Really. I grew up in the city.”

He tells you about it on the way; his dad died before he really knew him and much like Charlie, he was raised by a single mom that he lost to cancer too young.

“You don’t have any family left,” You realize softly.

“Mav’s like an uncle, plus Jake and the rest of the squad.”

“Jake’s not the best at expressing it, but he considers you a brother.”

“You’re telling me the guy who was in love with his best friend for 15 years but didn’t tell her isn’t good at expressing his feelings?” Bradley jokes.

“Crazy, right?” You laugh. “I hear you were gonna ask Charlie out.”

“I just told him that so he’d finally make a move. Yet he always says I’m snug on my perch.” Bradley sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah…what is the story with your callsign?” You ask.

“My dad’s callsign was Goose, so it’s a nod to him. I’m also a morning person.”

“That’s it?” You ask as you turn into the driveway.

“…why?” He asks, avoiding your question and your eyes.

“I was just wondering if it means you have a big cock,” you answer as you grab your bag and hop out of the truck, eyes flicking to his groin before meeting his with a cheeky grin.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Bradley catches up to you a minute later.

“Good. He’s not outside,” you observe out loud as you round the corner of the barn. “I’m assuming she’s the one in the holding chute. Maybe we’ll get lucky and be gone before he realizes I was here.”

“That bad, huh?”

Your blood boils as recall you the times he’s touched your ass, brushed your breasts, and the inappropriate comments he’s made.

“Yeah, that bad,” you reply, starting your exam.

You finish quickly, laughing when Bradley turns green as you palpate inside her.

“Jesus! Your whole fucking arm’s inside her!” He gulps, turning away and patting her side.

“We got a fetus,” you say pulling your arm free, and removing the lubricated sleeve from your arm. “I just need to give the mama-to-be some vaccines and we’re done.”

“You know, she’s actually kind of cute,” Bradley says, crouching on the other side of the chute to rub her head.

“The calves are even cuter,” you reply, patting her. “I’ll be ready in a second here. Just a heads up, she may flinch.”

You hum as you draw up the meds, not hearing the footsteps behind you. You jump when a hand brushes your backside.

“Didn’t even come to the door to say hello. You avoidin’ me?” Jim breathes into your ear, reeking of chewing tobacco and old sweat.

“Hi Jim. No, I’m just in a hurry. Have a lot to do with Jake’s wedding in a few days,” you reply, stepping to the side to get out of his reach, refusing to look at him.

“You can spare 5 minutes, can’t you? I never get you to myself,” he spits before entering your space again.

“No. I’m here to see the animals, not you-hey!” You yelp when he tugs your ponytail.

That’s the final straw.

He stumbles when you jerk your elbow back, knocking the wind out of him when it nails his solar plexus.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” you seethe, quickly administering the injections and picking up your bag.

“Oh come on, honey. I was just playin’,” he wheezes, bent over. But he reaches for you again.

“You heard her. Don’t touch her. Or anyone else for that matter,” Bradley says calmly as he walks around the chute; but you can see his hand shaking out of the corner of your eye.

Jim gulps as he looks up at Bradley before nodding. “Alright. Sorry Em.”

“I’ll send you the bill and you can find your veterinary care elsewhere,” you reply, ignoring his apology.

Jim’s face goes white when Bradley murmurs something and slaps him on the back none too lightly before following you to the truck.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“So that was unprofessional,” you sigh as you back out of the driveway. “But fuck, it felt good.”

“It’s not unprofessional to protect yourself,” he replies. “You’re quite the woman, Emma.”

Your cheeks heat under his praise. “I really appreciate you coming with me and having my back.”

“You had it handled, but no problem.”

“Can I treat you to lunch? As a thank you,” you ask as you pull into the parking lot of his hotel. Not admitting to yourself that you just want more time with him.

“You don’t have to do that, but yeah, I’d like to get lunch with you.”

“Great! I’d take ya now, but I smell like a barn,” you smile. “I’ll pick ya back up in about an hour after I shower.”

“Can’t wait,” he winks, walking to the lobby after shutting the door.

He grins when he glances back, catching you watching him walk away in those tight Wranglers.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Sorry I’m late. I ended up calling my coworkers to let them know what happened before Jim calls to complain.”

“No worries. How’d that go?” He asks, climbing into your personal (and much cleaner) truck.

“Good. They were furious,” you reply, continuing when he arches a brow. “But not at me, said they wish I would’ve told them earlier. Noah’s going to give him a call later. I’d love to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.”

“I’m glad they’ve got your back too.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Wait a minute, is there where Jake took Charlie on their first date?” Bradley asks when he sees the sign for the scenic outlook turn, handing you a fry from the bag of food you picked up from Ray’s-the town’s old carhop.

“Yeah, he told you about that?”

“I gave him the idea. Well…sort of,” he chuckles. “He was freaking out and didn’t know where to take her. Wanted it to be special, you know? So I asked what he would’ve done if they were in high school. I laughed when he told me he’d take girls to a car hop and find some place to park and fool around, but he said Charlie would like it.”

“She did. She would get so jealous when he’d take other girls out. It was so obvious. God, he’s an idiot,” you laugh, parking under the shade of a live oak.

You eat your lunch on the tailgate as he tells you about his dates when he was younger.

“…my mom tracked us down when I missed curfew and didn’t answer my cell, found us necking in the grocery store parking lot,” he smiles.

“I’m sure it wasn’t at the time, but that’s hilarious.”

“It was mortifying. That was the first and last date I got with Ashley Jones.”

“Thats too bad; if your mom hadn’t found you when she did, you might be married with 2.5 kids by now,” you tease, sipping your milkshake.

He laughs. “Nah, I’m happy with where I am at the moment.”

You smile, catching his insinuation when his eyes meet yours.

“How about you? You ever come out here and make out in a truck with a guy?”

“Nope. I’m Jake Seresin’s little sister, so every cop in town always had an eye on me. Fucking Jake,” you sigh dramatically. “It’s like a rite of passage around here and he ruined it for me.”

“You know, I’m a guy….and we’re sitting in a truck,” Bradley murmurs, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“Yeah? You offering?” You ask, leaning in.

“I am,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: I worked on this way too longgggg. I originally liked it but now I’m not sure lol. I hope everything makes sense and you all like it 🥺

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs.

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

@mamachasesmayhem

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

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@dempy

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#bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Consequences | Four

Word Count: 4.4k~ | Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, dark, medieval-canon sexism, heavy dub-con/noncon, DD:DNE, mean Aemond, manipulation, abusing power, gore, blood, violence, major angst, Aemond being a possessive horny weirdo with a power complex, p in v, moon tea, cockwarming

Series Masterlist  

A/N: semi-filler chappie cos it’s gonna get fuckin’ real after this one, buckle up fuckleheads

The weather was just right. And there was something calming about a clean wash blowing softly in the wind. Something calming.

 She felt she needed something calming.

 She ran the bed linen through her fingers, revelling in its soft touch. She remembered scrubbing Aemond's bedsheets for an hour straight after that night, using the hard bristled brush to rid the white fabric of her blood, which in reaction to the air had blackened.

 It was a stain difficult to remove. But she felt it more so in her heart than anywhere else.

 Since then, she'd not bled when she was intimate with him. For this she was glad.

 Stains of lovemaking were easier to wash out than blood.

 Could it be called lovemaking if there was no love? she thought.

 Freiya had ignored her since that day, instead clinging to the other maidservants, who all whispered in hushed tones whenever she walked by. And even now, on the same laundry shift, she refused to spare her so much of a greeting, much less a glance in her direction.

 She'd decided that it was better than way. She would not stop them talking about her, and in all honesty, she'd rather not hear any of the rumours or childish gossip at all. So the less they spoke to her, the better.

 Her only 'friends' as such, was her fellow bed sharing maidservant, Alanna. And Hedi. Hedi was so good. She had the intuitions and calming presence of a mother. But she was perceptive to the extent that it was scary sometimes. And the little maidservant was sure that Hedi knew everything and nothing needed to be said.

 Aemond had become more rough, if it were possible. He liked to mark her pretty skin with red and pink, smirking at the healing bruises for days after. The days and weeks after he had taken her maidenhead, it was like something had shifted in him, and he called upon her at all hours of the day, often not allowing her to leave until it was early the next morning and after getting no sleep she was still expected to attend to her duties.

 It was exhausting.

 He enjoyed leaving marks on places only he had access to.

 But one evening, when he had curled his hand around her neck just a little too tightly, genuinely blocking off all her air, Alanna had seen the redness and raised her eyebrows in alarm. She didn't say anything, nothing incriminating at least. Nor did she assume who was responsible and it scared her to think what Aemond would do if he found out that she'd told anyone.

 It was better that nobody knew.

 For her sake.

 He might just kill her. Or worse.

 "Dyana came to me like this once as well. Shaking and mewling" Alanna said with a resigned expression. She observed that she didn't shake, nor did she mewl or complain. It had been long enough. The little maidservant simply had to grit her teeth and bear it, for she was no longer a child and in a sense, she was the replacement of Dyana. In job position as well as situation. Just with a different Prince. There was no time for complaints anymore, not when she'd been forced to do what women do. What a wife would do.

 Alanna had a sad, mournful expression on her face and she held her hand out to her, “Come”

 Beneath the floorboards, Alanna pulled several beams up to reveal a large container, corked at the top. She struggled a little with getting the cork free, but when she did, there was the unmistakable whiff of mint and earth, and the little maidservant’s eyes widened when she realised what it was.

 A feeling of both fear and dread lay in her stomach.

 Was it such a common occurrence that a jug of Moon Tea was kept within the staff quarters at all times? Had Dyana used it when she worked here? Had the others used it?

 “Is it…”

 “Yes” Alanna responded, “A cup will do”

 She accepted the cup gratefully, knowing that had she tried to find other means to access the tea, or tried to make it herself without the proper knowledge, it could prove dangerous to her health. So she was at least grateful that Alanna, who she expected to be impartial to her condition and circumstance, had in fact offered help.

 The Moon Tea was tepid and tasted musty from being kept under the floorboards, leaving a horrid film all over her tongue when she drank it. But she drank the entire cup, hesitantly, feeling the familiar tug of guilt and shame in her tummy, at the thought that there could have been a child alive within her, that she was ultimately not allowing to live.

 But it would have been his.

 Perhaps it was a blessing to have the Moon Tea. She found herself thinking, why had Aemond not sought out Moon Tea for her? For she’d remembered what he said, about the supposed bastards of Princess Rhaenyra. He hated them, perhaps because of their parentage or perhaps not. But if a man had such hatred for bastards, why would he allow himself to spend inside her? He was too clever to think it would not happen.

 It was like a puzzle she could not guess.

 Perhaps he knew the maids had their own supply of Moon Tea, from hearing stories about what his brother, Aegon, had done to his maidservants. Or that he enjoyed the pleasure of breeding her, knowing that she could possibly swell with his babe.

 Perhaps he didn’t care.

 “Who is the man?” Alanna asks with a concerned furrow of her brows.

 She really did consider telling her, truthfully. Perhaps someone would come to help her if she told someone, and Alanna did seem kind. There were two parts of her mind at war with themselves.

 And then Alanna had dared to ask.

 “Does he make you?”

 The question was not one she expected, and the speed to which her eyes met Alanna’s had told her fellow maidservant all she needed to know. A melancholic look softens across Alanna’s face, but she makes no attempt to soothe her physically, no gentle touches of hands or stroking of her back. All of her comfort could only be offered in words and looks. Alanna was just like that, and did not enjoy people touching her. She wondered if it had happened to her, if she knew where the Moon Tea was kept.

 Does he make me? She asked herself.

 In the truest sense, yes, he did make her. But the little maidservant inhaled deeply, grounding herself to where she stood and shook her head, refusing to answer any more questions.

 Her brother and sister needed her.

She could not let them down.

 And in the deepest recesses of her heart, she knew she’d never return to them, despite the promise she had made to them.

Aemond had called on her that night. She had felt a bit better now after the Moon Tea, knowing that she was safe from the burden of her sex, but it didn’t make the dread disappear altogether. The corridors of the Red Keep were quiet, with very little staff about, which to her was strange.

 Across the hall, approaching her direction to pass her, was Helaena Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon. She was a dreamy, whisper of a woman, seemingly floating about the Keep. She was utterly beautiful, she thought. Whereas most Targaryens had silver, white hair, hers seemed to have a glow to it and her soft facial features were so much like Queen Alicent’s, though recently her lips seemed downturned.

 The little maidservant looked down to the floor as she passed, steps hurried to not keep Aemond waiting.

 Her body jumped, one shoulder held back by a firm, but soft grip on her arm. She’d looked back and then up, to meet the eyes of Princess Helaena. She was taller than her, not by much but she had such an air of authority and determination that it made the maidservant feel smaller than she really was. For a moment their eyes simply met, Helaena’s pale lilac eyes flitting across her face, her fingers flexing against her arm.

 She looked into the maidservant’s eyes silently for an agonisingly long time.

 “Princess?...” she’d whispered to break the silence, her arm aching with the force at which Helaena was gripping her. She was pulled closer by the Princess, forcing her to keep her gaze.

 “It cannot be”

 It was haunting, and an uncomfortable chill ran through her.

 That voice. Those words. She’d not been able to forget them.

 She remembered the way Aemond had thrust into her deeply, planting his seed as far inside her as it would go. Hearing those words over and over…

 It cannot be.

It cannot be.

It cannot be.

 Hearing them, in the same voice, had her hairs standing up on end.

 “...cold tansy…the womb quickens…”

 Helaena briefly let go of her arm and the maidservant finally took a breath, uttering a quick excuse and turning to make way for Prince Aemond’s chambers, trying to ignore the weight of Princess Helaena’s gaze at her back.

 And not able to hear her soft whispers.

 “A knife, the weapon…sleep, the calling…grief breeds grief…”

 When the maidservant stood before Aemond’s chambers, she wiped the tears away that had gathered on her cheeks, steeling herself for what was about to happen.

 The messenger boy was at her side, and the maidservant truly felt that if she saw someone else she did not want to see she might just scream and wail, the rest of the Keep be damned.

 “What is it” she asked him, rather forcefully, as if trying to hold back a cry.

 The messenger boy somewhat furrowed his brows at her reaction, holding a letter he’d already opened. The maidservant closed her eyes and sighed, knowing already who it was from.

 “Your brother has come down with a dreaded case of the Shivers, probably from writhing about in the mud like a pig. Your sister is spared from it, as you had mentioned she suffered and recovered from it only last year. He is recovering well, but I will need additional coin to pay for herbal remedies to make him well again, as I know I will not receive your coin any longer if she should pass. And if he does, I will have to send your sister away to work or get married. Five additional coins a month will have to suffice. Your sister would like to send you her love and she misses you greatly, especially the way you, and I quote, ‘make the mornings a little bit brighter’”

 She tries her best to not outright sob at the mention of her sister. The tears feel hot and oppressive behind her eyes, trying so desperately to pour free.

 She dismisses him with a soft wave of her hand.

 As soon as his chamber doors closed behind her, her eyes looked up to see Aemond on the other side, leaning against the window and looking out. He didn’t move when she entered, so she took the moment of silence to work on pulling her hair from her braids.

 “You are late” his low voice carries across the stillness of the room.

 “Apologies, your grace” she replies, trying to shake the tremor out of her voice.

 She fears something bad will happen. Perhaps it’s fear of him, or possibly even fear for her situation. But the words Helaena had spoken were whirring around her mind.

 It cannot be.

 “I heard you in the hallway, speaking to a boy”

 She meets his eye when he says this. When he says it, it sounds low, possessive, threatening. She finds he is already looking at her and her breath stops in her throat, her chest constricting painfully. Aemond does not have his eyepatch on, something he did when he wanted to appear frightening, which lately was more often than not.

 “Who was he”

 Again, not a questioning tone.

 She looks away to the floor, “Just the messenger, your grace”

 Aemond ponders her answer for a moment, letting his eye run all over her body. He notices that she has her eyes downcast, briefly picking at the dry skin around her nail beds nervously. An action he’s seen in his mother when she is anxious.

 It twinges something inside. Something buried deep.

 But as quickly as it arrives inside him, he pushes it back down.

 Aemond taps his fingers against the goblet he is holding, in somewhat of a nervous gesture. Like he is thinking about what he should do. She stands still the entire time, waiting for his neck command, all while his eye takes her in, body stirring with desire at the way she obediently always takes her hair down now in his presence. Even the way her chest inflates with air as she breathes seems to set his blood ablaze.

 Aemond crosses the room, standing before her he can see the mark around her neck, now a pale colour, where he had been a bit too rough with their tryst the last few times. A place where she could not hide it. There was some excitement in the fact that her fellow maidservants knew what was happening to her. He wonders if she tells them the things he does to her. Wonders if beneath that soft, innocent exterior, there is the same darkness inside where there is in him.

 His fingers reach out to run the back of them over the mark at her neck, and he doesn’t miss the way she flinches at the contact, at the sensitive, flared skin being grazed against, if only slightly. Those wide, doe-eyes meet his one eye, searching and confused.

 At least until his fingers dip to the buttons of her dress. Her heart sinks.

He will only ever want that.

 There is something different about him tonight.

 He undresses her.

 Usually, he stands across the room, commanding her to undress for him. Peeling off the layers of her clothing to reveal her pliant, small form before him, feeling utterly exposed, heart filled with shame at being ordered to bare herself before him, while he is fully clothed. Watching. Always with that self-satisfied look on his face, lips bought into a line to stop himself from grinning.

 This night, his hand softly, almost carefully, unbuttons her dress to reveal her skin beneath, all the way down to the valley of her breasts, where his finger delicately draws an imaginary line, leaving gooseflesh in their wake.

 He is uncharacteristically gentle.

 And it frightens her.

 The last few days and weeks since he had crossed that line, stolen her maidenhead as swiftly as a thief would steal coin, he had been rough, uncaring, borderline belligerent. She knew what to expect. Knew that the second she would leave his chambers, her core would ache as she walked, knew that the bruises on her would blossom in pain whenever she moved a muscle.

 She had taught herself not to be frightened. Instead she taught herself to be mindful. Be pliable. Obey. And she would not be hurt.

 But now she was afraid.

 Now that he was acting differently, she did not know what to expect.

 Aemond pushed one side of her dress over her shoulder and then the other, allowing the dress to fall to the ground. She does not miss the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

 Surely he cannot be nervous.

 His hand moves down to cup her breast, testing the weight of it in his palm, as if he had not been touching them multiple times a day in all the time he laid claim on her. Running his thumb over her rosy nipple, it rouses to attention, aided by the chill in the chambers. She swears that he gives a content sigh, touching her skin, feeling the thrum of her heart beneath her chest.

 It’s as if he is realising she is real for the first time.

 Like she is a woman.

 “Gevie” He whispers, almost so quiet she doesn’t hear him, despite being right in front of him.

 She wonders if he’s speaking his mother tongue to make sure she doesn’t understand his words.

 “Would you get on the bed”

 Would you.

 When has he ever asked.

 Taken slightly off guard by his different tone, she lets a breath free and nods, taking her spot in the middle of the bed. Her heart raps in her chest, smoothing her hand over the bedsheets in an attempt to calm herself down. The bedsheets she washed her blood from, now so stark and clean.

 Aemond’s clothes drop to the floor with a soft whisper of a thud, the mattress sinks with his knee leaning on it, slowly making his way towards her in the middle of the bed. Her eyes are fixed on the bed sheets, feeling his hot breath at the side of her face, hearing his soft breath inhaling her scent. His hand calmly pushes her back down to lay beneath him, fingers splayed large over her collarbone.

 She stares at the paintings in his room, as she always does when they do this. Tracing the tender curves and lines of the brush strokes, counting all the items in the subject, appreciating the way the colours perfectly reflect the realism of-

 “Look at me” Aemond asks quietly.

 What?

 She turns her head to him, a small puzzled look on her face.

 It’s the first time she has seen him look this vulnerable. There’s still an underlying feeling that he is hiding what is really underneath, some kind of blurred wall between it. At the surface there is still that man, the one who hurts her, the one who forces his deepest, darkest desires on her. But the insecurities that lay beneath are beginning to bleed out of his old wounds, albeit slowly.

 As soon as she meets his eye, Aemond pushes forward, sliding his cock into her tight, wet heat. A short gasp is caught in her throat at the abruptness of it. But it doesn’t hurt. Not like it did that night. After that night, it had felt strange, intrusive and curious. More often than not, he would brush that spot inside, the one that made her face heat, her thighs shake and her spine curve upwards. When it did happen, it upset her. For all that pain, for all the ways she was hurt, she thought she deserved more than a mere second of pleasure. For all her tolerance, did she not deserve to at least feel good?

 Aemond sighs, a quiet moan leaving his lips at the feel of him being squeezed by the soft ridges of her cunt.

 He slides in all the way, closing his eye and resting his head against her neck. His hot breath coming in short, troubles pants. Aemond lays his body heavy on top of her, supporting his weight on one of his legs that’s around her hips, pressing his lithe, hard chest against her soft, plush one.

 And he doesn’t move.

 She lays there, underneath him, eyes darting all about the canopy, wondering what he is doing.

 Why is he not moving?

 Aemond continues to breathe against her neck, as if asleep, but she can feel the tickle of his eyelashes against her skin, indicating that he is still very much conscious. Like this, she can feel every ridge, every curve and every vein of his cock, throbbing inside her, begging for any kind of friction. But he still doesn’t move, stilling with himself buried as deep inside her as he could go, his tip kissing her cervix. She moves her body a little, feeling a tad uncomfortable at the position.

 His hand tightens at her hip, “Stop” he says, quietly against her skin, “Just…stay like this”

 It doesn’t help her confusion in the slightest at the current situation. But she does as he says, and stays still, allowing him to adjust slightly, which sends his cock nudging slightly against inside her, a quiet sound escaping her mouth.

 “What did the messenger say” he asks.

 Her mouth opens and closes repeatedly, half shocked and half afraid to say anything he deemed wrong, and he might flip his personality like that.

 “Well…um…” she starts, trying to ignore the gentle throb of him inside her, “...he bought word from my family…”

 “Hm” he murmurs in return, angling his head to nudge closer into her neck, his breath against her drumming pulse, “About what”

 There is a deep, nerve-wracking suspicion about this. He has never cared. Not one bit. Why should it be any different now?

 For the sake of obeying him though, she responds.

 “There is a woman…from my hometown…” she starts, wondering how best to word it. Nobody had asked before and now him? “...she cares for my siblings in my absence and is requesting more funds…”

 He is quiet for a long time and she shivers when she feels his fingers running lines over her side, as if deep in thought.

 “And you have such funds?”

 An unwarranted shiver crawls up her spine, “I do…your grace”

 His hand runs between her breasts, up her front to grasp her chin between his thumb and forefinger. Aemond rights himself to sit up slightly, pulling her gaze to his, nudging his cock further inside her when it slips out slightly. He’s still hard, she notices, and her body jolts at the motion of him moving his hips ever-so-slightly.

 His gaze is firm, but his hands are not.

 “You would not lie to me now, would you sweet girl?”

 She quickly shakes her head softly, as much as she can with her chin in his grasp.

 “No, your grace…” she utters softly, her breath coming in short bursts at the sudden undulating of his hips, if not only slightly.

 With his lips slightly parted, Aemond starts to increase his pace, looking down to where they are joined as he slowly sinks into her over and over, his cock squeezed still by the delicious tightness her little cunny offers. It’s slow and thoughtful, the way he does it now. Even when he presses his palm against her abdomen, right above her patch of curls, to feel the presence of him inside of her, his fingers splayed out against her skin, it’s soft. Almost caring.

 She had seen little pieces of this side, like when he whispered to himself the night he’d taken her maidenhead, that he needed it.

 Like when he gently swats her cheek when she has done something he likes.

 But never this.

 As much as she wanted to believe it, she couldn’t let herself.

 Because as soon as he looked back up into her eyes, that dark, almost hateful look in his eyes came back. And it came back with a vengeance. As if it was annoyed it had been gone so long in her presence.

 He had returned.

 He took hold of her hips tightly, in a bruising grip and began brutally using her cunt for his own pleasure, turning away from her face to focus on something else. Anything else. But her face.

 Aemond fucked her like he hated her, uncaring about her own pleasure, chasing it for his own means. Burying that person he was barely minutes before in favour of the man he was now, the one who craved a closeness that nobody else could give him. A closeness that being buried inside his little maidservant could only offer.

 Or at least that is what he allowed himself to think.

 All this childhood he’d felt so small.

Born small and weak, too early.

 Made weak by the loss of an eye. At the hand of those bastards, no less.

 Hid back inside himself on his thirteenth name day, forced to endure the pleasures of the flesh in that sordid brothel.

 He’d felt so small. So weak.

 Powerless.

 He fucked every single insecurity into her, trying to block out the sound of her quiet whimpers as he snapped his hips against hers mercilessly. Hiding inside her. The only sounds in the chambers were flesh on moist flesh. It should be the sound of lovemaking. But it was just the sound of hate.

 No, Aemond thought as he sought comfort inside her. Angling his cock to find the answer within her somewhere.

 He was no longer weak. He was a man. A Targaryen Prince. Rider of the largest dragon in the world.

 And he would have whatever he wanted.

 Everyone else be damned.

 He had done a good job of blocking out her sounds, chasing a peak that just would not come. Aemond did all he could. He went faster, squeezed the parts of her flesh he wanted to elicit a response. He grasped at her breasts painfully, pinching her nipples between his fingers as they rolled back and forth with the motions of his cock pistoning inside of her with increased vigour.

 But there was nothing.

 It took him a long time to finally peak. But it was pitiful, feeble and weak.

 Weak.

 Weak.

 With an unsatisfied grunt, Aemond pulled out of her and threw her legs back together, not wanting to see the proof of incapacity that was represented by looking upon her used sex. She laid there for a moment, gathering herself and brushing the hair from her face that had stuck to her skin with shaky hands.

 His irresolute temper terrified her.

She thought she knew what to expect. But she didn’t. And she found herself unable to speak.

 She expected Aemond to tell her to leave, as he usually did. But instead, he huffed and got beneath the sheets, back against the mattress, looking up at the canopy for an answer, as she had done many times before.

 Her hands grappled the bed sheets, to will herself not to cry.

 It cannot be.

 What did it mean, she asked herself over and over, pulling her knees to her chest.

 But the more she thought about the words that Princess Helaena had uttered, the more it eluded her.

 She felt a warmth between her legs, where his seed was beginning to seep out of her. But there was a warmth deeper inside, as if it were inside her womb and she clutched her belly like she felt nauseous. It felt as if her stomach was turning itself over, trying to rid something from within.

 The dragon inside there had started to breathe its fire into her, burning her from the inside out.

 It cannot be.

General Aemond Taglist: @risefallrise @valeskafics

Consequences Taglist: @iiamthehybrid @manitskatrina @dahlias-and-marigolds @okfashionista @the-common-cowgirl @toodlesxcuddles  @darkenchantress @magnificentdelusionr   @tinykryptonitewerewolf @tssf-imagines @mandiiblanche @xdeath-soulx  @daemonlover @iiamthehybrid @thedamewithabook @hiatuswhore @apollonshootafar @ladymarg0t @hopeless-addiction-love @leeleebabe101 @babyblue711 @croatianprincess @what-is-your-wish @55gyi53vtnquwziq5 @garnetbutterflysblog @queenmizuki @tempt-ress​ 

*Bold means I couldn’t tag, if I can't tag you you can always turn on notifications for when I post. DM me if you wanna be removed besties

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond smut #aemond x you #aemond fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond fanfiction #aemond x fem!reader #aemond one eye #dark hotd #dark!aemond targaryen #dark!aemond x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond targaryen #aemond angst #aemond stannies #prince aemond targaryen fic #prince aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #aemond x y/n #aemond x oc #aemond x maid!reader #aemond targaryen x you #dark!aemond x you #aemond targaryen angst #consequences

[atinylittlepain]

Sweetness - A Joel Miller Story

Joel Miller x f!reader/f!oc

Joel masterlist

Joel has done his best to forget about his birthday, and for good reason. Ellie, however, has other plans in mind. When she recruits their pretty neighbor in Jackson to put together a surprise for him, Joel is thrown for a real loop.

warnings | 18+ angst, that's pretty much it, this is just real fluffy

Joel does his best not to think about his birthday, for a plethora of reasons. September twenty-sixth, the day that everything came crumbling down all those years ago. The day he lost his babygirl.

All those years on the road, and then in the Boston QZ, it had been easy to keep it to himself, usually spending that wretched day drinking until he couldn’t think straight. Every year, the only gift he got was that of pure, blissful oblivion, and a pounding headache the next morning.

Since settling in Jackson, it’s been harder to keep this information under wraps. Ellie somehow managed to needle out of Tommy when his birthday was, and had declared that Joel needed to pick a new birthday after realizing how depressing that date truly is. When Joel refused to comply with her demand, Ellie designated it herself as April second. She had found an astrology book on the road and had firmly decided that Joel was an aries, whatever that meant. 

That had been a few months ago, and Joel has just been hoping his annoyingly persistent companion has forgotten about her declaration. But when he meets his brother the morning of April second for their usual patrol shift, he quickly realizes he will not be so lucky.

“So, I’m under strict orders to wish you happy birthday, brother.” Joel thinks briefly that he’d like to smack the shit-eating grin off Tommy’s face, instead settling for a scowl and a huff.

“Goddamnit, was hoping she’d forgotten about that.” Tommy snorts, slapping Joel hard on the back.

“You should know by now, Joel. That one’s just about as stubborn as you.” 

… 

When he gets back to town after his shift, the rest of the afternoon is spent painfully responding to awkward birthday wishes, all said with the caveat that Ellie had told them to do it. Joel could throttle the kid by the time he gets home.

As he goes to open the door, however, it’s immediately slammed shut in his face, Ellie huffing on the other side.

“You can’t come in yet, old man! Just hold your horses!” Joel scrubs a hand down his face. 

“Ellie! I’m really not in the mood for this shit.”

“I don’t care! It’s your birthday and what I say goes! Now sit down on the porch, I’ll let you in when we’re ready.” He can’t believe this kid, but he’s a little too worn down to not heed her instructions. Besides, he tried the door again, and it seemed that she had slid a chair under the handle to keep it from budging. He settles into the rocking chair on the porch, closing his eyes for a spell, even dozing off in the cooling Spring night. 

He’s rather rudely awakened by Ellie kicking at his boots.

“Hey! Time to come in, old man. Got a real surprise for ya.” Joel groans as he stands from his seat, stiffly getting pulled inside by Ellie who immediately comes behind him on tip toes to cup her hands over his eyes.

“Ellie, would you please–”

“Shut it and walk, old man. It’s a surprise.” He huffs, begrudgingly letting her lead him through the house towards what he guesses is the kitchen. 

When Ellie finally peels her hands away from his face, Joel is shocked to see her standing there. The pretty, young neighbor who Joel sees teaching the kids in the makeshift schoolyard from time to time. They’d only shared passing conversation, he’d catch her sometimes out in the garden in her backyard in the evenings. She always offered him a wide smile when he’d say hello.

She’s holding what Joel realizes is a cake, or he guesses you could call it that. It’s a short, square little thing that they’ve stuck two, lit taper candles in. She’s smiling softly at him and he can’t take his eyes away from hers, a frozen moment of time. Ellie startles him when she shouts in his ear.

“Happy birthday, old man!” Whatever spell had been cast is now broken. Suddenly, Joel feels very overwhelmed and angry. He can’t quite figure out why, so he does the one thing that does make sense to him. He turns heel and stomps straight out the door, heading down the street and ignoring Ellie’s shouts of his name. It’s not his fucking birthday, and he’s sick of all this pretend shit.

…

He winds up down at the bar, and even though it’s not his birthday, he revives his old tradition of trying to drink himself under the table. He doesn’t get far though before his brother is sitting down across from him.

“Now tell me why Ellie showed up on my doorstep in a complete fit because some asshole fled his own damn birthday party.” Joel just sighs, hanging his head.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Nope, that doesn’t work for me. ‘Cause not only did you piss Ellie off, but I’m pretty sure you broke that sweet little thing’s heart.”

“I’d hardly call Ellie a sweet little–” “Fuck, Joel. I’m not talking about Ellie.” He huffs her name, raising his eyebrows at his brother, and Joel’s stomach churns. 

He hadn’t even been thinking about her, that shy smile she shared with him before he ran off. He thinks about the cake she had been balancing in her arms, that she had probably helped Ellie make it, put a lot of time and effort and resources into something he was too chickenshit to even acknowledge. Joel feels terrible, and he knows it’s not the booze talking. He brings his palms over his face, pressing his fingers lightly into his eyes, kneading at a quick-forming headache.

“Joel, no one’s saying you gotta enjoy your birthday. But I’m saying you gotta stop being a dick to people who are trying to care for you, man. Ellie may be a little… enthusiastic. But Christ, Joel, she loves you like a father.” Joel glances at Tommy, sighing.

“And that neighbor of yours. Well, if you can’t see a good thing when it’s right in front of you I’ll smack you around myself, maybe then you’ll see the way she looks at you.” Joel scoffs at that, shaking his head. He figures his brother is just trying to convince him to apologize to her. There’s no way in hell she’s actually been looking at him the way his brother is insinuating. She’s her, lovely and pretty and popular around town. And he’s him. Enough said.

“Alright, Tommy, alright. I’ll apologize to them, both. Just, fuck, get off my ass.” His brother smirks at him as Joel rises from the table. He’s had enough of people for the night.

“You better make it right, brother. And, hey, happy birthday you old shit.” Joel flips off his grinning brother, heading out into the darkening night towards home. 

…

As he nears his home he sees that all the lights are off. Ellie must have stomped off to a friend’s house, too pissed at him to stick around. He’s going to have some serious apologizing to do tomorrow. The glowing ember of a cigarette catches his eye on the porch next door. He can see her silhouette in the faint glow of light coming from her house’s windows. She’s sitting, wrapped in a blanket, taking long drags and letting the smoke wisp out harshly.

He doesn’t know why, but his feet carry him over to her house, she tilts her head at him where he stands at the steps of her porch.

“Well, Ellie and I thought you may have skipped town, you looked so upset in that kitchen.” She blows a billow of smoke out the corner of her mouth, watching him carefully. Joel clears his throat.

“Don’t know why you smoke those. S’no good for you.” She scoffs, but stamps out the butt of her cigarette beneath her boot.

“S’that all you came over here to say? My own little public service announcement?” He shakes his head, swallowing hard.

“Want to apologize. For earlier. I just– fuck– I wasn’t expecting that. Didn’t really know how to react.” She sighs looking off just over the top of his head. Joel wishes she’d meet his eyes again.

“It’s ok, Joel. It was stupid, really. Ellie asked for my help, and I like that kid. Wanted to do something nice for you. But I see now that it was silly.” Joel steps up onto the porch, trying to get a better look at her downturned face.

“It wasn’t stupid. I was stupid. What you did was real nice. I just– I’m not used to–” “Not being in constant life-threatening danger?” She quirks an eyebrow at him, he sighs. She scoots over on the bench seat, a silent invitation for him to join her. He does, sitting down with his elbows on his thighs, looking at her over his shoulder.

“I get it, really. I know that may be hard to believe. But I wasn’t always so lucky to be somewhere like Jackson.” She glances at him before looking back down at her hands in her lap.

“I had a little brother. Jack was his name. Back before, well before. He was only two years younger than me, and I never let him forget it. But damn I loved him. And he loved me. Every year, he insisted on being the one to make my birthday cake. And, Christ, they were bad. He’d get our mom to pick up the Betty Crocker mix from the store, you know? And the canned frosting. But he’d always manage to do something real weird to it.” She laughs lightly, but Joel can see the shimmer in her eyes.

“There was one year, he baked gummy worms into the cake. Fuck, it was so gross, the worms sort of melted into the batter so it was this sticky, rainbow mess. I told him it looked like a gnome had vomited on a platter.” Joel feels his mouth pulling up into a smile. She sighs.

“When I lost him… well, every year without him on that stupid day just reminds me that he’s gone.” She clears her throat before harshly swiping under her eyes.

“I don’t know why I told you all that. I guess just to say that I get it. And that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. Just figured it’d be nice for someone to have a good birthday” Joel sits back on the bench, letting his arm rest along the top of the chair behind her. 

“When is yours?” She finally turns and looks at him, furrowing her brow in confusion.

“Your birthday, when is it?” Her face softens.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?” His mouth quirks at that and he nods.

She leans into his side, cupping her hand over his ear conspiratorially and whispers the date to him. Joel’s breath hitches at the close contact. He hums when she leans back.

“You know, today isn’t my birthday, not really.” Her eyes widen at him, he laughs softly.

“It’s really, uh, September twenty-sixth, you know, the day that everything–” she brings one of her hands to rest on his knee, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yeah, I know. Can’t say I blame you for choosing a new one.” He snorts at that.

“Oh, I didn’t choose it.” She clicks her tongue, nodding and huffing a laugh at that, muttering Ellie’s name under her breath. She gives his knee another squeeze.

“Well, your secret is safe with me so long as mine is safe with you.” He nods, bringing his hand to rest on top of hers. She flips her palm and entwines their fingers. A warmth breaks out in Joel’s chest at the way her thumb strokes the side of his hand.

“C’mon. It’s still your not-birthday and I left that cake in your kitchen. Better not let it go to waste.”

…

That’s how Joel finds himself sitting at his dining room table, on a day that’s not his birthday, as the prettiest lady in Jackson lights candles in the cake she’s put in front of him.

“I’m not gonna sing to you, seeing as it’s not really your birthday. But go ahead and blow out the candles, handsome.” He feels like he’s going to break out in hives under her gaze. He’d be hard pressed to admit that he’s really just blushing at her words. He complies with her order.

She offers him a fork before sitting down next to him, and they both dig into the pan. Joel’s pleasantly surprised at his first bite and she grins around her fork at his reaction.

“There’s no sprinkles or frosting, but I’d say Ellie and I did a pretty good job, given the circumstances of course.” Joel hums.

“I can’t believe you went through all that effort. Don’t know the last time I had something like this.” She waves his words away.

“It’s not a big deal. Besides, how else was I supposed to woo you?” Joel chokes on the bite of cake he just swallowed. She giggles as he regains his composure, only slightly.

“Woo me? You’re trying to woo me?” She shrugs, going a little shy in her glances at him.

“I thought I was being obvious. But you don’t exactly make it easy, Joel Miller.” Joel’s dumbstruck at her words. He sits back in his chair.

“Christ– I just– why would you want anything to do with me?” She huffs, setting her fork down and resting her chin in her palm.

“Well, now that you ask, I don’t know. You were kind of an asshole this afternoon.” His face goes slack at that but she just laughs. It makes his heart kick in his chest.

“I’m kidding, Joel. But yeah, I may have been harboring a little crush on you since you moved in here.” Joel’s still speechless, he feels like his brain has been jostled around in his skull. She breaks the silence with a big yawn, checking her watch as she stretches.

“Well, I’ll let you chew on that, in more ways than one. I better head home.” She’s already standing and walking towards his front door and Joel is a bumbling mess as he follows behind her. He keeps trying to start to say something, but all that comes out is a stammered “I– you– uh– well.”

He finally manages to spit something out, “thank you, for the, um, not-birthday cake, and for everything.” Her mouth turns up in a lopsided smile. Joel’s brain finally seems to be back online, and he continues.

“I, um, wouldn’t be opposed to that. To you wooing me.” She crosses her arms over her chest, stepping closer to him.

“Oh, you wouldn’t?” Joel shakes his head.

“No. Uh, consider me wooed.” He’s rewarded with a grin from her and he’s got that warm feeling in his chest again.

“Hmm, well in that case–” She steps in a bit closer, bringing her palms to his chest and lifting up to press a quick kiss to his lips. Joel freezes for a moment, but he snaps out of it quick enough to bring his hands to her hips, dipping in to chase after her lips for a deeper, longer kiss.

She pulls away first, a bubble of laughter, before leaning back in for a chaste peck. He presses his forehead to hers. What she says comes out in a whisper.

“Happy not-really-your-birthday, Joel Miller. I’ll see you later.” She’s slipping out of his grasp and out his front door, not before hollering back at him to save some of the cake for Ellie. Joel stands, staring dumbly at the door, running his fingers over his mouth, searching for remnants of their kiss.

He thinks to himself that this has been the best not-real-birthday he’s had in a very long time.

#joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #the last of us #tlou

[serasvictoria]

Title: Pretty Persuasion

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

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

Word Count: 19.398

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

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

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

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

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

“Hawkins Records, how can I help you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t get it.”

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

That was two weeks ago.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And to Eddie Munson.

“It’s why you took over, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hair was a lot shorter for starters.

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

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

Different, but still the same.

“You’re late!” Dustin calls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Really? Since when?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Some things never change, babe."

"I guess not."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh shit. Wait.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you were such a sap.

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

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

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

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

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

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

"Who's Chase by the way?"

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

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

"You were married?!”

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

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

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

"The name doesn't ring a bell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ouch."

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

“You never needed a guy anyway.”

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

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

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

“I would,” Eddie laughs.

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

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

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

“I will if you find those papers.”

“Touché.”

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe later.

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

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

Crazy when you thought about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like coke and hookers?”

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

“And I don’t do cheap?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They all did.

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

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

“And drunk.”

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

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

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

“Was not!“

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

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

That one hookup had never really gone anywhere, though.

You had been teenagers, horny teenagers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You acted like it had never happened.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he sighs.

“You broke my heart, Eddie.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“I never meant to-“

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

“You want me to leave?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

"Why not?"

"Because."

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

"That's not an answer."

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

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

"Eddie."

"Come on, just answer the question."

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

“I’m just curious, is all.”

“Why?”

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

“Yeah. I guess,” you shrug halfheartedly.

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

“I wish you would.”

“Why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lucky me.”

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

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

Twelve years to be precise.

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

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

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

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

“Deal.”

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

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

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

“You heard me?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you want.”

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

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

“Oh yeah?“

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

“What’s stopping you?”

“Not yet, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

“That bad?”

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

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

“H-How?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only Eddie doesn’t stop.

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

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

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

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

“Eddie-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re still wearing this.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The easiest way to do that was to…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“When did you get so fucking filthy?”

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

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

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

“On your knees.”

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

“Allow me.”

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

Just a little.

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

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

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

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

Which is what he kinda was in a way.

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

As if he had to remind you of that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You liked that, baby?”

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

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

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

“Good.”

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

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

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

“Don’t mind if I do.”

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

It ends up being a natural transition.

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

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

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

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

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

That seems to make Eddie’s tongue work again.

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

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

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

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

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

And he was right. You did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Never.

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

Thank fuck for this day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just as you promised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lord,” you groan. “That’s so- fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a sap.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I might,” he counters infuriatingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That's bullshit and you know it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that’s only half of it.

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

That was how the friendship had started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Little minx.”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

That hadn’t been on his mind at all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you kiss him instead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is all you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want to leave your mark. Desperately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“That’s nice,” you murmur, not really in the mood for talking as you drift off to sleep. You’d be kicking yourself for that dumb reply in the morning.

“I love you.” His lips touch the top of your head and they stay there. “Always have.”

“Mm,” you can’t stop yourself from yawning. “I love you too, Eddie.”

“Get some sleep,” he chuckles. “I wore you out.”

You’re too far gone to come up with a smartass reply and barely manage to mumble a “goodnight” to him before you finally doze off.

You didn’t sleep long. Your body had grown an inbuilt clock, ensuring that you woke up at around the same time every day, all because of the store.

Didn’t matter that it was Sunday today, you woke up early regardless.

Despite knowing full well what happened the night before, you’re still kind of surprised to find Eddie next to you when you wake. It takes some time for the realization to set in that it’s still ridiculously early, especially for him. Eddie had never been a morning person and you sincerely doubted that that had changed in your years apart.

When he stirs next to you, which was possibly because he could somehow sense that you were awake, you press your lips against his collarbone. His eyes slowly open, his vision momentarily bleary, and he needs to blink a few times to uncloud his eyesight and focus on you.

“Morning,” he croaks before yawning. “Fuck, it’s too early.”

“For you maybe,” you murmur while leaving a trail of kisses from his shoulder up to his neck. “You can go back to sleep.”

“When you’re kissing me like that?” He still sounds groggy, voice low as he rubs the palm of his hand over his closed eye. “Fat chance.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you grin. When you nip at his jaw, he lazily swats a hand against your arm. “Whaaaat?”

“Tease.” Tilting his head down, your lips finally meet, morning breath be damned. “Morning.”

“Morning, handsome.” His lips freeze and you can actually hear his breathing stall as well so you push yourself up and hover over him. “Did that just elicit a response?” you tease, poking a finger in his side. “Handsome.”

“I-I-“ His cheeks flush pink and a gleeful giggle erupts from your mouth. “I just like it, okay?”

“Aw,” you coo. “Don’t be embarrassed. I think that it’s cute.” Eddie covers his face with his hands and if anything, it just made him look even more adorable. “Alright, alright, I won’t make fun of you.” He spreads his fingers so he can fix one eye on you and then you throw in a quick, “For now.”

He rolls over on his stomach very dramatically with an unnecessarily loud groan and you’re torn between teasing him some more and throwing yourself on top of him.

You do neither, opting instead for getting out of bed completely. You’re only just grabbing a pair of panties out of one of the drawers next to the bed when you hear the bed creak.

“Come back to bed,” Eddie says behind you.

You’re ready to deny his request and you probably could have done it if you hadn’t turned around to face him. The sight of Eddie Munson, butt naked, would be a view that you knew that you would never tire of.

And you already knew that you would be unable to deny him anything.

Without arguing, you joined him again, dropping the underwear on the floor where it would lay completely forgotten for the next few hours.

“No witty replies or smart comebacks?” Eddie asks while you snuggle into his side. “Nothing?” You write the letters ‘N’ and ‘O’ on his stomach and remain silent. “I’ll just enjoy the silence then.”

The silence is pleasant, not uncomfortable like it can be sometimes, instead you lay there and listen to his heartbeat and his steady breathing. He draws patterns into your skin, wherever he can reach, swirls and waves and something that you think are supposed to be leaves and flowers, like he’s painting on you with an invisible brush.

“How quickly can you pack?” His voice is the first thing that cuts through the silence, just as he’s in the process of drawing star after star onto your skin. “Just the essentials so you’ll be good for a couple days.”

“Pack? Pack what?”

“You know, clothes, toothbrush, that kind of thing.”

“I can’t just leave,” you reply as you tilt your head up to look at him. “What about the store?” Even when you had been running nothing but losses for a while now, your first thoughts were of nothing but the store.

“We can get someone to open it up while you’re away?” he offers, his brow furrowed in confusion. “You know that you won’t be able to open the store every morning when you’re living with me, right?”

A half remembered comment from last night pops into your head suddenly, of Eddie saying that you would be coming with him if he left.

“You were serious?” you blurt out suddenly.

“Was I-“ When he shifts underneath you, you move back and sit up. Eddie does the same. “You thought I wasn’t serious?” He actually looks a bit hurt and that in turn makes your heart ache, too. “I’m not the kind of guy that says stuff like that just so I can get laid. You know me.”

“I do, I do.” You start backtracking immediately, not even sure what you want to say when you open your mouth. “It’s just that I’ve been disappointed before, so I don’t know, it sounded too fanciful,” you say apologetically.

“I would never, ever, play with your feelings like that.” He sounds so sincere that you immediately take his word for it. “That Eddie is long gone. I’m so fucking serious right now.”

You avert your eyes, ashamed, feeling awfully foolish right now. You feel his fingers on your jaw and your eyelids flutter shut when he rubs circles against your cheek with his thumb.

“I want you,” he repeats. “You think that I can go back after I got a taste of you? No fucking way. You’re coming home with me and you’re staying right there while I spoil the shit out of you. Fuck, I might even buy a ring to make it official the second I- we get back.”

“Eddie.” You gasp out his name, his sudden declaration enough to make your heart skip several beats. “That sounds good to me, but maybe not make promises that you can’t keep?”

“You doubt me?” He moves so that he’s sitting on his knees on the bed, arms gestured out to you dramatically. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was stark naked, you might even call the pose somewhat chivalrous, but it just looks a bit silly right now. “You doubt the devotion of Eddie the Bard?”

“Oh god!” You smack a hand against his chest and laugh loudly. “You’re such a dork.”

“Milady, I am deadly serious.” And he looked it, too. “Honest.” He reverts back to his normal self, grabbing your hands and holding them to his chest, his expression all serious. “You’re mine. I’ve known that since I was thirteen and covered in acne. I was a pussy about it before, but I’ve grown up since.”

“Barely,” you giggle. He tilts his head to the side and tries to give you his best disappointed look. “I couldn’t resist. Sorry, not sorry.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and continues, “As I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me…” He presses your joined hands to your sternum and says, “Mine.” Then moves them to his chest. “Yours.”

He has the audacity to look slightly uncertain then, as if the prospect might somehow offend you, as if he was offering you something that could potentially be unwelcome and make you throw it back in his face.

“You know,” he mumbled before looking away. “If you want to, that is.”

As if you would say no.

“I want,” you reply softly, so softly that it’s barely a whisper, that he might not have heard at all, so you say it again. “I want.” And he definitely heard you that time. “Of course I do.”

His face lights back up immediately, as if millions of fireworks just went up into the sky, and he looks like he’s seconds away from screaming “REALLY?” and jumping up and down on your bed, but instead he surges forward and kisses you so hard that the two of you fall back on the mattress.

It feels like he kisses you for ages and your bodies start to move together languidly, with him growing hard against you. When he pulls away to draw in a deep breath, he gives you a dopey smile and your eyes are inexplicably drawn to that single curly lock of hair that’s draped over his forehead.

“Is that deliberate?” you ask as you flick at it with your fingers. “Do you pull that out every single day until it looks just right?”

“That’s what you want to talk about now?!”

“It’s been driving me insane since yesterday!” Eddie starts to laugh and you can feel your cheeks begin to heat up. “I’m sorry alright!”

“I’m not telling,” he chuckles. “So you’ll just have to deal with not knowing.” He sways his head from side to side and your eyes keep following the bouncing curl around as he does it. “Look at me.” You tear your eyes away from his hair with some reluctance and stare into his eyes which are as brown and warm as a mug of hot chocolate. “Mine?”

“What do you-“

“Mine?” He repeats himself a bit more sternly this time.

“Yours,” you answer. “I-I’ve always b-been yours.” You can feel your heart skipping a beat from his scrutinizing gaze. “Y-you said that I’ve had your heart for a long time, but the same thing goes for you.” You reach for one of his hands and place it over your heart like he had done yesterday. “It’s always been yours.”

Eddie looks at you as if you had just told him all the secrets of the universe, something a lot more important than a simple confession of love at least, but then his gaze turns hot and you close your eyes a split second before your lips meet again.

This time you could practically taste it, the promises, the devotion, the love. It was in every single movement of his lips against yours. You were an idiot for doubting his intentions for even one single second. How could you ever doubt him? You blame it on last night’s alcohol. It must have briefly clouded your judgment, muddying your mind and dragging up all your teenage uncertainties.

Those thoughts fade with every kiss. The way that Eddie kisses you makes it easy to forget all about your worries and doubts, tears it all down to its bare bones until it’s nothing but a boy and girl who have been denying themselves this for way too long.

There was no rush this morning, you could take it as slow as you wanted, and Eddie seems to want that as well, his movements slow as molasses in January.

His lips move away from yours, kissing and nipping down your jaw, moving against the shell of your ear where he softly murmurs, “That curl… I pull that one out on purpose every single day.”

“I knew it!”

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes #mar moodboards

[word-wytch]

Don't Stand So Close To Me — Chapter 11

Eddie x Teacher!Reader

Chapter 11/? 5.2k. Series Masterlist

✏︎ Parent teacher conferences and long forgotten stories uncover worlds beneath.

✏︎ Series Summary: Forced to move back home to Hawkins after your fiancé cheats on you, you begin to fall in love again with an audacious 20 year old metalhead, only there’s one problem — he’s still in high school and you’re his English teacher.

While you struggle starting over in a place you never thought you would return, Eddie struggles feeling stuck in a place he can’t manage to leave — until you offer to help him. Of all the lessons learned, the most important are the ones you teach each other.

✏︎ Series CW: forbidden romance, slow burn, true love, smut (18+ mdni), internal conflict, student-teacher relationship, 10 year age gap, mutual pining, sexual tension, emotions, drama, angst, character development, happy ending :)

Chapter warnings: stories within stories, high fantasy, discussion of childhood hardship, implied spousal abuse, parent death mention, drug use mention, heavy angst

Friday, November 15th 1985

Eddie was lost in another world.

He was floating actually. High above the clouds, not that he could see them. He wished he could but the empty crate he had stolen away in was the only thing shielding him from the suspicious eyes of the merchants aboard the zeppelin. His heart pounded as the wind carried him further than he’d ever been from the only place he’d ever known — the isolated Cloud Kingdom of Myrne. High atop a mountain range. A city of gold, gleaming like a beacon in the sun.

His back ached against the stiff wood rocking him like a cradle. He was lucky to be small enough to fit. Lucky that he had just enough space to shed his silk coat to use as padding. If he laid just right he could even stretch his legs toward the ceiling to relieve the cramps that threatened his claves. 

He would have to ration the dried boar’s meat and meager flask of water that he’d stashed away in his knapsack. There wasn’t space for very much, and he needed the precious real estate for not only clothing, but the jars of herbs and poultices to stave off the illnesses he was so susceptible to. 

That was why he — or, Lady Cybelle rather, ended up here in the first place. See, there was something she needed from the world beneath. Desperately. Her brother did anyway. A rare, translucent plant called a ghostfern found only in the depths of certain caves. It was a known cure for his equally rare illness, or at least that’s what she read during her herbalism studies. Much like Eddie, all she knew of the world beneath was what she read about.

Cybelle begged the high council to send for it. To send scouts to collect it. But they refused, unwilling to risk the safety of the collective for the life of just one. There was always a risk involved in the leaving and returning of Myrnish people. A risk to contract and spread more illness that threatened the lives of them all.

Cybelle was crafty though, and equally determined. She’d fashioned a mask out of moth silk with a pocket for illness-staving herbs. She would need it when the zeppelin finally landed in Torgaard. When she figured her way out of this crate without being spotted. When she set foot, for the first time, on the land she only caught a glimpse of when the clouds beneath her parted.

Eddie had grown rather fond of Cybelle. He’d been spending every evening with her since Wednesday. Ever since you handed him your world in a black three ring binder — Worlds Beneath.

It was intimate, reading your work. As if he could read between the lines and observe the way your mind worked. The way your phrasing flowed. Your choice of words. As if part of you was there within the pages. The hidden part of you.

He didn’t know what he was expecting, but he was as captivated as he was impressed. He supposed after watching you analyze literature on a daily basis that it would be more… literary. More serious. Less fantastical. But this was beyond anything he could have anticipated.

There was a secret world in you. He would catch glimpses of it sometimes when you laughed. It would peek around the mask you wore like a curious child when he talked about elves and magic. He could hear its quiet voice becoming braver. 

He was there now, inside of it. Crammed inside a crate aboard a zeppelin. You had a way of doing that, he noticed. Taking him there. Making him feel the wooden crate against his spine. The stuffy air in the close darkness around him. The fear twinged with excitement. It was a sort of magic you possessed. 

He could feel it outside the pages too. The gentle burning in your fingertips, even when you pulled away. Especially when you pulled away. The quiet wanting of it all.   

He wondered how often you went there, to the secret world in you. Did you drift there as you glided down the hallway? Would you hide there when the real world was too much?

He wondered how many people saw it. How many others you let in. 

He wondered if he stayed there long enough, set up camp and looked around, if he would find himself there too. 

______

You fixed your hair as you checked your reflection in the faculty bathroom mirror. The old light bathed everything in a yellow wash. It made your skin look as tired as you felt. You picked lint off the black blazer you pulled from the back of your closet this morning. The one with the shoulder pads. Professional, right? It made you look bigger than you felt. Perhaps parents would take you seriously if you looked like you belonged behind the desk.

There were some perks to in-service days. No classroom to manage. You got to come in at noon instead of 7:30 am. Got to be the one listening to a lecture instead of giving one. The only downside was having to stay until 7:30 pm. That and trying your best not to cry when a parent inevitably got defensive. You always looked for something nice to say about all of your students. It softened the less savory news, if there was any. More often than not it was just making small talk, telling parents what a pleasure their child was to have in class. 

The heels of your shoes clicked down the empty hallway, past the trophy cases filled with plaques of names you still recognized. You caught the ghost of your reflection in the glass, the angular silhouette of the costume that you wore. You noticed your tight pencil skirt riding up in the back and you corrected it with a downward tug, keeping on the straight and narrow path toward the teachers lounge. 

The wood paneled walls welcomed you in, and you padded across the old carpet toward the open boxes of pizza laid out on one of the three round tables. You grabbed a paper plate and pulled a few slices of pepperoni from the large, square cut sheet, the cheese already hard from sitting out. You rarely complained, and this time was no exception. Your stomach was threatening to eat itself and lukewarm pizza more than fit the bill.

You took a bite to satiate your blood sugar and made your way to the coffee station for the third time that day. Grabbing a mug from the stack, your fingers grazed the faded lettering that vaguely resembled the Chief’s Auto Repairs logo. You glanced at the clock as you filled it with your liquid vice. It was 2:37, which meant you had approximately twenty-three minutes before you had to be posted at your station. Your stomach churned, and not from the pizza. 

 “Boo,” came a gentle whisper from behind you.

Your hand jerked, sloshing coffee all over the wood veneer.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” Diane apologized, making haste to grab a generous handful of square napkins from beside the sugar. Her bright red nail polish glinted under the fluorescents as she blotted up the mess.

You put a hand to your chest. “No, no it’s ok,” you sighed, grabbing a napkin to wipe the bottom of your mug. “It’s good to see you, honestly. I didn’t think I would.”

“Yeah, I still have quite a few notes to catch up on. Just because I’m not a teacher doesn’t mean I’m off the hook,” she said with a wink. “What was the seminar about this time?” She tossed the napkins into the trash at the end of the table.

“Oh, just the usual stuff. Classroom management, how to have better boundaries with students, you know, hah.” Knots twisted in your stomach as you leaned against the counter, grabbing a milk carton and tipping it over your mug. 

Diane hummed, eyes fixed on your generous pour threatening to overflow the coffee from the rim. “Sounds riveting.”

“Oh yes, enthralling,” you said, folding the mushy lip of the carton back in on itself, something to do with your hands to keep them from shaking. The coffee probably wasn’t going to help.

Diane’s eyes narrowed, “Are you… ok?”

“Me? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. I’m just uh,” you tapped your finger on the edge of your mug. “Parent teacher conference day nerves, you know.” 

“Ugh, I can only imagine. I hope everyone is nice to you today. I have no idea why they wouldn’t be.” 

You offered a shaky chuckle. “Yeah, me neither. Just getting in my own head I guess.” 

“Love the blazer, by the way. Super sharp.”

“Oh, thanks. Figured I’d dress the part.” Grabbing your plate of pizza in one hand and very full mug in the other, you took a sip off the top, marking the rim with a delicate red blot. You pulled out one of the old chairs and found your place in it, which your feet were thankful for.

Diane leaned against the table, “So, Darren called last night.”

“Oh, you’re still talking to him?” The sauce squeezed out from the corners of your bite as you sunk your teeth into the hard cheese and gummy crust.

“Yeah, a bit. Off and on. He’s a nice guy. Does stuff for his sister and her kids lot, which I feel like is a good sign, right?”

Your brows raised a little. “Yeah, totally a good sign,” you said through a mouthful. 

“He invited me to the Colts game this weekend. I think I’m gonna go.”

You blotted the sauce from your lips. “Really? I thought you said he wasn’t your type.”

“I mean, what is a type anyway? If I keep waiting around for my type I might be waiting forever. I’ve gotta just start putting myself out there, you know? Give guys the benefit of the doubt for once. You never know until you try,” Diane offered as she opened up the large box of sheet pizza and ripped off two slices onto her plate.

You huffed through your nose, “Sometimes you know.”

“I mean, yeah. Sometimes, but with this one, I dunno. I mean we do have some things in common. We both like Saturday Night Live and spending time outside. He’s decently attractive, or he was at Mojo’s anyway,” she chuckled. “We’ll see what he’s like off the phone. At the very least it’s something to do, right?” 

You swallowed your bite. “Right. I mean, hey, free entertainment I guess.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Diane as she settled into the seat beside you. 

______

The phone was ringing. Shrill and deeply annoying as it echoed through the trailer. Eddie sighed and pulled himself away from your world in his lap, his expression blank and perturbed. He thought for a moment about answering it. About putting an end to the intrusive noise, but that would mean getting up from the toasty blanket cocoon he’d wrapped his legs in, like a warm pretzel. November’s creeping chill was doing nothing to help his motivation to leave it.

So he let it ring. And ring. Until finally the answering machine picked up, coloring the voice that came through in static and tin.

“Hey man, it’s Gareth. Um… I’m kinda freaking out about this date tomorrow. I know you’re probably just gonna tell me to stop being a pussy, but uh… yeah. Call me back.”

Eddie smirked and rolled his eyes. His friend knew him so well. There would be plenty of time to tell Gareth exactly what he needed to hear. That he was, in fact, being a total pussy. Later though. Right now he was busy. 

He was a man named Lazarus now. The Amazing Lazarus, formally. And he had a full time job shuffling cards and making purses disappear. 

The small crowd that gathered around him didn’t know that though. Not in this city anyway. He was certain he hadn’t seen any… artistic interpretations of his face plastered on any of the buildings in Torgaard. Yet.

If he could be quick enough with his hands they wouldn’t even notice what was missing until they were blocks away, and by then he would have long since packed up his banner and left. 

“Is this your card?” he flourished to the unfortunate man who had stepped forward from the crescent crowd.

The man squinted. “No I don’t think it is.”

“Ah,” he answered curtly. “Oh, what’s this?” He feigned surprised, reaching forward to dip his fingers into the man’s pocket. He pulled back with another flourish. “Is this your card?”

“Why it is!”

Cheers and claps erupted from the crowd. Lazarus took a bow. “Thank you, thank you.” He took off his weathered top hat and passed it around to collect any loose change that the crowd was eager to get rid of.

The people dispersed as quickly as they came, leaving him alone. He reached into the hidden pocket beneath his leather glove and extracted a small pouch. And now, for the even bigger reveal. 

He dipped his finger into the opening and loosened the draw strings to reveal a few spare coins and…

Another pocket watch. 

It was almost like everyone carried them around in their pockets. Dull and predictable, and practically worthless to him. He sighed, wondering how long it would be before he actually made his trade worth his time today.

That’s when he spotted her — the strangest person he’d seen all day. Maybe all year. Maybe in his entire life, and he’d seen a lot of people.

The first thing he noticed was her shock of white hair, cropped in a bob with bangs like a toddler. She toddled like one too. Petite and girlish. Flat boots with curled toes flapping like duck feet against the dirty cobblestone. Deeply unstable. Crinkled gold coat gleaming like a beacon in the sun. 

But the real clincher was the mask she wore. A big crescent moon that swept across her round face. Strange and alien. Stark against deep copper skin. Eyes like saucers. 

The perfect target. 

He strolled up to her, and her enormous eyes drank him in like they were parched.

“Hey, you look like the type of person who might appreciate a magic trick.”

She looked up at him, chin lowering beneath her mask. “A… a magic trick?” 

He couldn’t place the accent.

“Oh yes,” he said, shuffling his cards in an arch from one hand to the other. “Have you ever seen a magic trick before?”

It was a silly question to be asking someone who looked like they’d never seen a man before.

“Oh, um. I do not think so,” she said, her flat silk boots stumbling across the cobblestone to regain her footing. “Sorry I am a little, uh… it is like the air here is just so… different.”

Lazarus stopped shuffling. “Different? Different how? Different from where?”

She looked around, out past the zeppelin docks toward the horizon. She pointed toward the sky. “Myrne.”

“Really,” he half whispered. In all his travels he had never seen a Myrnish person before. He had only ever heard about them from others and what little they knew secondhand of their isolated culture. 

“The air…it is just… thicker,” she said between breaths. “Sorry. I am quite dizzy.”

He took a step closer. Close enough to assess that there were no pockets to be found on her strange garments, but there was something else that excited him much more. An obelisk of glimmering pale gold that dangled from her neck. Worth a small fortune, at least. 

The gold found in the mines of Mount Myrne was different from any other precious metal in the world. It was found only there, and unlike common gold, was very hard. It sparkled rather than shined, and most importantly possessed an energy that could be harnessed. Like magic.

The gnomes would use it to power their inventions. It didn’t take much of it to make a moderate machine come alive. A piece this size could surely afford him a permanent home, and then some. No more hiding his caravan outside cities. No more paying for stables or worrying about wolves making a meal of his horse.

He could picture it now. A little cottage in Shantiglade by the sea. He would wake up to a full body stretch in a real bed. He would fix himself a goose egg omelet over a real stove with peppers from his garden. He would open his windows and taste the fresh brine in the air. 

He would stroll leisurely to the beach where no one knew his face. Where the tide would kiss his ankles and wash away his footprints. Where his past couldn’t follow him.

The pendant winked in the sunlight. She was so small. He could easily break the chain from around her neck with a single tug and run.

“So, what brings you all the way down here?” He drew closer, unable to tear his eyes from the shimmering treasure.

She stepped back in time with his advance, like a dance, adjusting the mask on her face with hesitant eyes.

“I am looking for ghostfern.”

“You’ve come a long way for a plant, my dear.” Another step forward.

Another step back. “My brother needs it. He will die without it.” 

It was a look he’d seen before. Desperation twinged with hope. He’d seen it in his own reflection more times than he cared to admit. He saw it in his mother too, though the hope faded almost as quickly as she did when the cost of the cure was too great.

She lowered her gaze. “Ghostfern is very rare. None of our merchants carry it, though I hear it can be found in caves outside of Rower’s End, but I do not know how to get there.”

Rare, expensive — what difference did it make when it was out of reach? 

“That’s a long ways off,” he offered solemnly. It was deep into the boglands and nary a merchant dared to venture along the thin, winding path to Rower’s End. The rumors of sinister creatures and  bog crone hexes were enough to keep them away.

The strange young woman seemed unfazed by this. “Have you been there before?”

Lazarus huffed. “No, I but I do know how to get there.” The gold obelisk winked at him again and he stilled his itching hands. “How about I uh… make you a deal?”

“A deal?”

“Yes, a deal. I take you to Rower’s End in exchange for that pendant you’re wearing.”

She sized him up, the gears turning behind her enormous, chestnut spheres. “You will take me back then too? To Torgaard?”

Lazarus nodded firmly, “Of course.”

Her eyes crinkled, sparkled like the obelisk she wore. “Then it is a deal.”

“Excellent,” smirked Lazarus. “Ah, what is your name, by the way?”

“Cybelle.” Certainly one he hadn’t heard before.

“Lazarus, pleasure to be doing business with you.” He extended his hand.

Cybelle cocked her head, studying his open palm hovering in the space between them like a foreign object. 

“Uh, you — you shake it. See? Like this.” He demonstrated awkwardly with his other hand, then presented her with the opportunity again. “Now you try.” 

Cybelle stared at his hand. Her fingers twitched, gaze darting from his palm to his eyes. “Ah… sorry.” She put her hands up sheepishly, waving his away. “Trying not to get sick.”

Lazarus retracted his hand and gave a single, solemn nod. “As you wish.”

______

Your eyes tracked down your list of parent names, then up at the clock. It was 6:45 on the dot. The last name on your list was scheduled at 6:40. 

There was a part of you that hoped he wouldn’t show at all. The churning in your stomach was kicking up with each minute that ticked by, anxious eyes flitting from the paper, to the door, to the clock.

Until suddenly a figure appeared in the doorway. He was tall, weathered, with a short grey beard. Hair even shorter, stark against the ruddy skin that it encircled atop his head. He wore a denim jacket with a corduroy collar and olive green work slacks stained with patches of grease.

He peered around your classroom tentatively, as if looking for a sign that he found the right one. “Hi, Wayne Munson." It sounded like more of a question.

You stood up from behind your desk with a jolt. “Oh, hi! You must be Eddie’s dad.” Knots twisted in your stomach. You extended your hand to him and put on the warmest, brightest mask you could muster. 

“Uncle, actually.” His hand was rough and thickly calloused, fingers stained from nicotine. You could smell the stale scent of his vice on him, a family habit, evidently. “Sorry ’m a little late. Still a bit early for me, I work the graveyard at the plant.”

Uncle. The questions bubbled in your gut but there was no place to air them in the split second between you. “Oh that’s no problem, you’re last on my list today anyway. Here, have a seat.” You gestured to the chair opposite yours at your desk. 

Your desk. The same desk his nephew held your hand under. Your stomach churned again.

As Wayne eased himself into the small, wooden chair, you allowed your timid eyes enough agency to take stock. There was a weight to him, not in his body but in his aura. A heaviness that you could feel. Tired stories you strained to read between the lines on his face, stained into the cracks of his fingers. You would search for the resemblance to the one you saw most often in that chair. You would find very little save for their strong oval faces and the warmth that surprised you in his ice blue eyes.

Wayne sighed, deep and heavy as he creaked back into the chair. “Alright, how’s Ed doing in class?” he asked flatly.

There was something else in his eyes, leaden like defeat. Like bracing steel. Like tired expectation. 

He might as well have said, “Let’s get this over with.” It was the same tune. A tune he memorized. Sung a thousand times. A tune his voice was tired of.

“Eddie is…” a soft smile crept onto your face and you suddenly became captivated with the pen on your desk. You felt him lean forward, hinging on the words you left hanging in the air.

And so you told him the truth.

“…one of the most creative and tenacious people I know.”

There was a breath that he’d been holding in, a sigh that permeated the stunned stillness between you. 

“I know it isn’t easy for him to be here. I know he’d rather be doing a million other things but he’s still here, you know? Despite being denied graduation twice.”

He knew. You could see it as clearly as the lines that softened on his forehead.

“I mean sure, I could tell you that he’s got a B minus in my class right now. We could sit here and talk about grades, and attendance, and behavior, but… he’s trying really hard and I don’t think that you can… quantify that. There aren’t grades for effort. They don’t give marks for how many lonely students you offer a place to sit in the cafeteria. It isn’t something you can measure.”

Wayne leaned closer, the ice in his eyes melting so much that he needed to blink it away. 

The sight stirred a deep part of you. The easing of the bracing steel into something so much softer. Tender like a bruise. You thought about Eddie Munson with pen on his hand and shame in his eyes. Your nose burned.

“You know he’s got a lot of leadership qualities too,” you said, steadying the quiver from your voice. “He’s in a band, he runs a club. He’s involved and engaged. He’s…” your eyes lowered again, thumbing at the pen on your desk. “He’s got an enormous heart,” you said, quieter. “I think he’s just… extraordinary. If you want to know the truth.”

Wayne glanced away, toward the windows, as he swiped a calloused finger at his cheek. “M’sorry,” he muttered, blinking. “Y’know I’ve been goin’ to these for the past, what is it… nine years now? Nobody ever has nothin’ good to say about ‘im. Not a single one.”

An ache sank deep in your chest. It stung, like your eyes did when you imagined the younger versions of the man who took that chair most often, and those of the one in it now. Sitting in front of the big desk. Facing someone who was far less kind than you on the other side.

“You’re the one who’s been tutoring ‘im, aren’t you?”

You swallowed, stomach churning again. You figured he’d mentioned that. It would have been strange for him not to. “Yes. A few times a week after school. It seems to be helping. He showed me his progress report, all passing grades so far. He’s gonna walk that stage this year. He will if I have anything to do about it.”

Wayne cracked a smile at your determination. “Well thank you kindly for all your patience. I mean it. The boy’s always struggled in school. Been an issue even ‘fore I had ‘im.”

“What happened before you had him?” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you even had a moment to process whether they were appropriate or not. Whether it was your place to ask. 

Wayne sighed deep as his weathered hand eased the exhaustion creasing his brow. “My younger bother is… really somethin’ else to put it mildly. Always has been. He’s in county now doin’ time for stealin’ cars and other petty shit— sorry, young lady, pardon my French.” 

You shook your head and waved it off, the humor of his comment overshadowed by the concern twisting in your stomach. “It’s fine, really. Please continue.”

“Ed’s mom on the other hand, well she had ‘er own problems but not like him. Actually, I recon Warren was the biggest problem she ever had. Real young when she had Ed, maybe 19, if even. ’S hard to remember. Younger than Warren was, I know that much. We were all still livin’ in West Virginia at the time. A few years after that Warren got in hot water with the law. Packed up Lorena and the baby and settled in Hawkins with a few gamblin’ buddies he’d met from out this way.”

A twist, deep in your heart. You swallowed, leaning forward.

“Well, Warren managed to find some stable employment fixin’ cars. Stayed out of trouble for a few more years. Then Lorena started gettin’ sick. Always had issues with her heart, see. I don’t think the stress of livin’ out here with Warren helped none. I seen the way he’d talk to her when I would visit, always so suspicious of every damn thing.”

Your chest was so tight all of a sudden. Head filled with flashes of images you’d never seen. Images that you could feel. A woman in a cotton dress looking out a window. A profound loneliness. A longing for a freedom she may never know.  

“When Warren started gettin’ into trouble again I knew I had to do something, for Ed and Lori’s sake. They put ‘im away for a year that time, so I packed it up and moved out here. It was a good year. Gave us all a break from my brother. Sorry to go on a tangent, it’s just been a lot.” Wayne sighed deeply, smoothing his beard with his hand.

 “No, no you’re fine,” you reassured, putting on your best mask for him. Behind it you were breaking.

“He was worse when he came back though. Started gettin’ into drugs. Few years after that, Lori passed due to her heart. Ed was ten at the time. I shouldn’t have let the bastard have him at all, but he was stubborn as hell and he had custody. Had ‘im for a year before he finally messed up bad enough to go away for a long while. Best thing he ever did was go to jail, I’ll tell you what.”

 “I—,” you took a deep breath, the pen on the desk so enthralling again, “I’m sorry, this is… I wasn’t, um, expecting—”

“No I’m… sorry to dump all this on you. Don’t get many people who wanna listen to be honest.”

“No, it’s really ok. I’m the one who asked. It’s just…”

“I know. Kid’s had it rough, to put it mildly.”

You took a slow, shaky inhale to steady yourself and found the courage to meet his eyes again. “He’s incredibly lucky to have you,” you said earnestly.

The ice in his eyes melted again. The steel now soft and pliant. The weight in him less heavy.

“You’ve done such a good job raising him,” you offered gently, swallowing your tears. “Really, he’s a wonderful person. You should be so proud.” 

Wayne sighed, allowing a full, bright smile to wash over him. He blinked quickly, glancing toward the windows again, and you wondered how often he heard that. If he ever did before.

“Thank you,” he said, barely audible. 

It was strange, your sudden fondness for a man you dreaded meeting. 

“I should be thanking you. For sharing. For everything,” you said, stilling the quiver in your chest with a deep breath. “I think that’s all I really have for you today.” Your trembling hands gripped the chair beneath you.

Wayne nodded, “I’m glad I came. For once.”

You smiled, big and bright. “I’m glad you did too.” You extended your hand, your open palm hovering in the space between you. “It’s been an honor to meet you.”

Wayne’s warm, calloused hand bridged the great divide and squeezed yours gently. Lingered for a moment. “You as well,” he said, a fondness you could feel in his touch. He gave a firm shake before letting go.

“Have a great rest of your day,” you said with mustered cheer as he creaked out of the wooden chair.

“You as well,” he said with a wave as he made his way toward the door. His footsteps faded beyond the threshold, into the din of the hallway. 

A deep, ragged sigh escaped you.

You thought about Eddie Munson again. Thought about his oval face and big brown eyes. Thought about them smaller. In a hospital. Filled with unspeakable sadness. Sitting in the emptiness she left behind. At home by himself drawing dragons on his pages. Fighting a monster in his living room.

Eddie Munson. With pen on his hand and shame in his eyes. 

There was hope in them too. Unbreakable. Eager and wild. Restless, and frenetic, and warm. 

All at once.

It surfaced then. The strangled sob that released from your chest. It echoed off the tile floor and concrete walls that would still surround you both.

______

A/N: Apologies for how angsty that was. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it though, lots to explore in these new worlds we're uncovering ;)

As always, I deeply appreciate any and all comments -- keyboard smashes, theories, small novels, all of it. I work very hard on this story and hearing your reactions fuels me in ways that I can only begin to tell you.

Please reblog and help others to find my precious creation! ✨

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson older reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x teacher!reader #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson angst #don't stand so close to me

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #1 A mother’s love stretches throughout the realms

Imagine dis…

 What if Danny Fenton is a reincarnated version of Martha Wayne (I’d like to think that she is a badass woman, not your typical rich girl) When the portal accident happened he began remembering the life before Daniel “Danny” Fenton happened. At first, he thought that these memories are nothing more than ‘dreams’, as dreams kept us all day and are often forgotten the moment we wake up but every time he woke up from each ‘dream’ he kept remembering the love and fondness to a man who has the same built to his dad. The care, protectiveness, and love that he gave to Dani to a young male that looked like him, the feeling would cling to him throughout the day. The feeling of protectiveness would amplify his own. He wants nothing more than to find that blurred young boy and make sure that they are right. His core kept aching for that two individuals.

Far worse each year on a specific day. The horror and fear crawled up his spine as well the relief and safety towards the mystery boy.

The moment Danny turned 18 he was crowned as the High king in the Infinite Realm. The moment the crown and ring are within him he is bombarded with information about the information and secrets of the Infinite Realm, he also remembered his son.

He tried to find his husband, Thomas Wayne but was saddened that he couldn’t find his love. But also felt relief seeing that he found peace in his afterlife for him to move on.

After making sure that the balance is restored throughout the realm he wishes to see his son one more time. Using the information he got when he was crowned he navigated through the Infinity realms and entered the DC universe.

He turned invisible to see his son in Gotham, but what greeted him made him fear the worse.

There lay a very injured Batman, how did she know it has his son? Never heard of the phrasing “There is an endearing tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart”

She knew that is her boy, and quickly turned to help his son. Learning under the teaching of the yetis, especially through Frostbite’s guidance he is able to make himself stable enough.

Pressing the panic button under his utility belt he can’t help but linger his eyes towards his boy.

His boy who has done much and given much, he who has so much to love to give, who gave all of his heart, body, soul, and mind to those he calls sons and those who he considers his kin, his boy who turned into a fine young man.

All of a sudden, he wasn’t in a grimy alley anymore but at the Wayne manor taking care of a 7-year-old Bruce who fell ill after playing under the rain.

Thomas his love, besides their son, whispers how he is handling that cold like a champ while Alfred is carrying an empty bowl of chicken soup out of the room.

He can’t help but go back to his old habits, rubbing his boy’s chubby cheeks, promising sweet words to his boy that It will be all right. While singing his lullaby for him.

The moment Nightwing appeared, a lingering cold air remained at the spot beside the man he call father.

It's been a few days since Bruce was recovered and healed up in the manor, having Dick fill in the gaps of Batman for a few days.

At the cave, Bruce is trying to recover the audio as well as the recordings through his cowl as he refused to be compromised. His children assured him that when the rest of them have gotten there he was all bandaged up and no one near could have been his savior. He refused to take the such chance.

The video is nothing more than a lost cause but the audio is clear enough for Batman to listen through it.

The situation, the faint feeling of fingers rubbing his cheeks, and the whispering words of reassurance made him remember but it was the lullaby that sealed the deal and made him freeze up

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

No…

There is only one person who knows that song… that night he knew he looked like a man on a mission.

Who is that person who clearly knows his mother’s lullaby to him?

Somewhere near Crime alley, Danny is thinking of meeting the rest of his grandchildren's booth that was adopted officially and unofficially by his son's booth in and out of their suits.

As well as thinking of ways to heal and avenge his second grandchild looks like Jason got his hatred on clowns.

Hey! He may be Martha Wayne at one point but he is also currently Danny Phantom who is the king of Infinite realms, Champion of Balance but most importantly hates clown with passion as well willing to beat that clown up for killing his grandson.

 PS: If someone out there wanting to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so.

#dc x dp prompt #dc #dp #bruce wayne #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #infinite realms