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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months

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chemical override (5)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the support for this fic has been amazing, so trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in all the angst and heartache that follows (or do I?) I'm sorry, readers. I'm sorry, Ewan. We'll sort this out somehow - all my love, Freyja <3

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

A beginning. A first date. Whispers, sightings abound. Falling in love. A necessary lie. Hearts breaking. An end.

Ewan stands in a studio backlot in LA, bouquet of flowers clasped in one hand while the other is nervously stuffed in his tracksuit pocket.

He's itching for a smoke, but he stops himself from doing so, in some lovesick attempt to keep himself as clean and nice-smelling as possible when he sees you again. He already mentally kicked himself for not dressing better, clad in his staple Adidas blacks. But he couldn't wait any longer.

His flight from New York to LA hadn't been the most pleasant. His mind raced for hours, the thought of you being his only consolation. His meeting did not go well.

But enough of it. There is you, here, now.

In this moment, you are all that matters.

The first couple of workers make their way out the studio doors, chatting enthusiastically despite their tired faces. Ewan shuffles on his feet, keeping an eye out for you. Soon enough, your assistant Clara exits, and he waves in an attempt to get her attention.

"Ewan!" she greets brightly. "She'll be out in a while. Are those flowers?" A blush materialises on her face, and she looks so excited Ewan awkwardly thinks she would take them for herself.

"Yeah, do you think she'll like them?" he asks, giving the bouquet a once-over. The classic dozen long-stemmed red roses, kept together with black-dyed muslin wrap.

"She'll love them!" As if perfectly timed, the doors open again, and they spot you walking out with several of your co-stars. Clara smiles to herself as she walks away to give you two some space.

When your eyes land on him, it's like everything falls into place, the ear-splitting smile you give him enough to quell any worries he might have. You meet each other halfway, melding together in an embrace so tight he nearly drops the flowers to the ground.

"Look who it is," you say, still wrapped in his arms, "the internet's babygirl."

"Just your baby, darling." He pulls apart, but only just enough to look at you. "I missed you."

"Mmm, I can see that."

You're about to comment on the flowers, but he can't hold back any longer.

And so your first proper kiss happens behind an LA studio, adjacent to the parking lot and surrounded by prying eyes. The burnt orange haze of the sunset peers from the horizon, casting a glow on the scene. And it's perfect. His lips are gentle as they dance with yours, his warm breath fanning your face when he breaks apart for mere milliseconds, only to resume the kiss as if he can never get enough.

A moment later, there's a couple of woohoos from a distance, your costars oooing and aahing at the sight, making you giggle against Ewan's lips.

"Shall we, then, darling?" Ewan asks.

"Shall we?" Your brows raise, mirroring his question.

"Our first date." He takes a step back, but only to ceremoniously hold his hand out for you to take. "Will you do me the honour?"

"Why, good sir, are we going on a regular date or some super fancy ball?" you laugh, lacing your fingers with his anyway.

He only smiles, planting yet another kiss on the corner of your mouth. "God, I missed you."

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You can't help but cast glances at him every now and then. Ewan, effortlessly cool as he drives the both of you across LA, with one veiny hand gripping the steering wheel while the other envelops yours on your lap.

His thumb draws circles on the back of your hand, and you're thankful for it; you need the comfort because you're growing nervous. A first date.

A first date! And not just with anyone.

"What is it?" he smirks, his eyes finding yours as the car idles at an intersection. There's a smugness there. He caught you staring.

You avert your gaze, a pleasant wave of heat rising to your face.

"Hmm?" he leans across, pecking your cheek and resting his forehead against your hair, eager to get a rise out of you. "I mean, I've been told I'm handsome, darling. You already know, something of a babygirl. But it's even more special that you think so."

The light turns green. You grab his jaw, and lightly push him away, raising your eyebrows. "Careful, baby," you smile knowingly. "Your Aemond is showing."

"Oh, yeah?" The car revs up again, rows of palm trees speeding past in a blur. "Does that - uhh - turn you on?"

Your head snaps to him at his bold insinuation. He gives off an unaffected air, smirking to himself in an undeniably hot what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it way. But you make him nervous too. He swallows, and clears his throat, anticipating your response.

"Maybe," you bite your lip, squeezing his hand harder, "but you don't need to put on your Aemond to turn me on."

"Just me, then?" he chuckles lowly, feeling lighter.

"Yup," you shrug. "But if you ever wanna put on a blonde wig and an eyepatch, I won't stop you."

"For when, darling?" Oh he knows what you meant. It's been a constant on his mind too. He's lost count of the nights when thoughts of you consume him, and what happy news it is that you might have been going through the same.

"Mmm... " You look out the window innocently, but you guide his hand higher up on your thigh, allowing his fingers to splay open and squeeze at the flesh covered only by the material of your jeans.

A minute passes. Driving past a street of exclusively only mansions and expensive cars. Then downtown, low-rise buildings as far as the eye can see. Another minute, slow and steady.

Then he says, "You're going to fucking drive me insane, baby."

A soft sigh escapes your lips. "Well, you started it."

He sneers, accompanied by a humourless shake of his head. "I think you overestimate my self-control." The air is thick, but it's quickly diffused when he pulls into a clearing. You realise you're out of the main road, the car slowly coming to a halt in an empty lot beside a low brick building.

"We're here, darling," he says, but he gives you a look that clearly means this matter isn't over. You have something of his, and he's going to claim it.

He half-jogs over to your side, opening the door for you and taking your hand in his.

"Where are we?" The building is nondescript, with a plain white facade, a small cafe and a laundromat on street level, both of which happen to be closed.

"Had to call in a favour from an old mate of mine. His family moved here from Derby a couple of years ago, and they own that laundromat over there," he explains, leading you inside through a door in the side alley.

You're met with a narrow flight of stairs and he gestures for you to go ahead. "What have you got up your sleeve, Mitchell?" you ask, excitement taking root as you climb up to the very top.

It only takes three floors before you reach the heavy steel door of the roof deck. He shuffles to your side, one hand on your back to keep you steady, and pushes the door open which relents with a loud squeak.

You're met with something you have only seen before on Pinterest boards - the rooftop is softly aglow from hanging string lights. In the far side, a screen projector is set up, and in front of it is a low plush sofa cocooned amidst throw blankets and cushions. There's a wooden tray on one on the blankets, containing treats of all sorts and a bottle of wine glistening in its ice bucket.

You take in the magical ambience of the scene with widened eyes. The haze of faint LA sunlight only serves to make everything more beautiful, though it seems hardly necessary.

"Do you like it, darling?" he asks and what a ludicrous question it is. Do you like it?

He continues, "I admit I didn't have to lot of time to set it up, and I had a bit of help but - mmmpph - "

You lace your hands around his neck, silencing him with a searing kiss. He moans unto you, his tongue dipping past your lips as he nearly relinquishes control. He could forget about the set up, the date he had planned, and just take you here on the rooftop. Would you let him?

"I take it that everything is to your liking?" he purrs, watching you in adoration as your head swivels on its own accord to canvas the scene yet again.

You spot something in the corner - a bouquet of fresh flowers surrounded by some lightweight paper lanterns.

"Oh no!" you moan. "The flowers you gave me... I left them in the car!"

He laughs fondly at the sheer panic on your face. "Don't worry about them, my love. I've got more flowers for you here." He points to the bouquet you just saw.

"But those ones... won't they wilt or something? I don't want them to go to waste."

His heart swells at your genuine concern. The furrow between your brows, the way you chew on your lip in worry, your fingers absentmindedly clutching his wrist - it all makes him fall even harder.

"They'll be fine, darling."

"Are you sure?"

He nods once, pulling you in, "Mhmm, just... come here, please." Another kiss, gentler this time.

This is bliss, he thinks, sweet solace after his days in New York, days he aims on forgetting from now on.

You eventually find yourselves on the velvet seat, the tray of food nestled on your laps. He pours wine into the paper cups as you reach for a chocolate-covered strawberry and bring it to his lips.

"Thanks, love," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"Oh, baby, you've got chocolate on there," you motion to his bottom lip.

He sets the cups of wine on the tray, making a move to wipe it off, but just as his fingers hover, his mind takes on an alternative action.

"You do it, then," he leans close, tilting his jaw.

"Okay." With a smile, you begin to oblige him, but you halt when he playfully says, "Not with your hands, darling."

You feel your heart race at his teasing, and at the way he stares at you with blatant desire. Never mind the fact that you were just making out moments ago. The rush of being with him has not subsided. Maybe it never will.

You kiss him, paying mind to the smudge on his lip, licking your own lips afterward to savour the taste.

You pull back slightly. "All better," you say, patting his cheek lovingly.

"Hmm," he hums, "I suppose I'll just have to make a mess of myself more often."

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Nightfall had already descended when the credits to The Princess Bride start rolling, dotting the sky with twinkling stars.

Ewan has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, before he declares, "If they ever do a remake to this film, I'll only take the role if you would be my Buttercup."

"As you wish," you smile, nuzzling closer against his black hoodie. "I remember watching this when I was a kid. Believe it or not, it was one of the films that inspired me to get into acting."

"Did you wanna be Buttercup, my Buttercup?"

"No," you respond. "I wanted to do what Inigo Montoya was doing. He's so insanely cool."

"Of course you did," he says affectionately, "my darling."

"What about you, hmm? Did you always want to be an actor?" you ask. You might have read an interview of his where he explains something to that effect, but he doesn't need to know that now.

"As far as I can remember, yes. It was always going to be acting for me. Even when everyone laughed it off when I brought it up in primary school." He shakes his head, the once bitter memory reduced to an anecdote. "I... I find purpose in what we do, being able to slip inside different skins, different lives. It allows me to explore the human psyche, you know, and to make sense of all this madness."

You listen intently, in awe at his words and his sheer sincerity. The world is made better with Ewan able to live his passions. And you feel fortunate that his life is one he may be willing to share with you, if everything goes well down the line.

"I almost forgot - you have to tell me about how your big meeting went."

He shifts slightly, eyes darting downward as he pouts on instinct. He realises he can no longer keep the subject under wraps.

You sense his reluctance, and immediately try to soften your approach. It could have gone either way, and though rejection is part of an actor's bread and butter - you certainly would know - there are some instances where you just let it get to you.

"Is this producer as scary as they say?" you ask lightly, poking his chest.

He smiles, but his expression is still clouded. "You know those mafia dons in Scorcese's movies? This guy practically inspired them, I'd say."

"Goodness."

"He did try to give off a welcoming air, but there was still something... sinister underneath."

"I suppose when anyone is afforded this much power..."

"Especially in this industry..."

"Mhmm." Face half-burrowed in the soft material of his hoodie, you tilt your head up at him. "So it was a bust, huh?"

He shrugs, "The role just wasn't for me. It's all for the best, I reckon."

You hold his hand tight, eager to soothe any worries he might have. "That's a shame. They would have been damn lucky to have you."

He smiles, flattered by your comment. "I am lucky to just be here with you, darling."

You smile in return, tilting your lips to his, coaxing him to lean in close and seal the kiss.

And he does.

And this is the most perfect first date there ever was or ever will be.

"Darling?"

"Hmm?"

"I think I've fallen in love with you."

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The next few weeks pass blissfully slowly, you and Ewan caught in the euphoria that only a fresh relationship can bring.

Rehearsals for your upcoming movie had ended, and you get a month off before filming begins in Atlanta. Ewan also stays in LA, keen on spending every waking minute with you. His team takes advantage of the situation, booking him for several interviews and a feature with Esquire. You were more than happy to accompany him - or rather, distract him - on these occasions.

Once, the team even jokes that you had to stay in the other room because Ewan keeps looking over at you behind the camera and forgetting what to say. Ewan, of course, quickly protests. "My girl stays with me," he confidently says.

It doesn't take long for news to spread. Rumours, at first. Allegations bred from blurry fan photos and supposed encounters with yourself and Ewan while out in LA.

They were holding hands!

They're not just friends, I swear. He was kissing her the whole time in the restaurant!

What about her and Jacob? I thought they'd been dating all this time?

House of the Dragon stars spotted on a date in Hollywood!

Headlines. Gossip fodder. Statements made by people who claim to have seen you.

Sure, you do meet some of the sweetest and friendliest fans during all this, who only gush at the sight of their favourite actors getting together.

There are others, especially online, who are less pleasant, accusing you of cheating on your supposed lover Jacob Elordi.

Jacob, already used to rolling with the punches, gives you a call so the two of you can laugh it off together.

"I'm happy for you, mate," he expresses, voice muffled from the other line. "You and Ewan... you guys just make sense. Do you remember that night when he stormed in all jealous like? Holy shit..."

As if on cue, Ewan shifts underneath the sheets from behind you, peppering your naked back with soft kisses. "Tell him I said hi," he whispers, his tone doing nothing to mask his possessiveness.

And so the days roll on, and it couldn't be more perfect.

That is, until the first cracks started to show. As they always do.

You're in a meeting with your publicist Mallory, at one of the many quaint hipster cafés in LA, discussing your upcoming filming schedule and the other things you have booked in between.

"You've got a busy few months ahead, but the film is of course top priority," she says. "It's slated to be the top rom-com of next year."

"That's great, Mal."

"I mean, I think you know that Ewan was meant to lead that romance-fantasy franchise? That's a big deal, and people are saying it'll be bigger than Twilight!" she gestures wildly with her hands. "But since he had a falling out with Bruce Haversham - and trust me, if he ever sets up a meeting with you, you do not want to go against him - what was I saying? Oh yeah, the release for that will be delayed so your film will get prime spot for a summer premiere."

You grow apprehensive at her words. Ewan never got into detail about that meeting, and you didn't really want to pry. But if that producer's reputation is indeed accurate, it doesn't bode well for Ewan's career that he might have done anything that displeased him.

With a sickening dread, you realise that Haversham might have something to do with Ewan failing to book the two films he went for in the past month. Despite the fact that the local casting director practically raved about his audition, and stated that he pretty much had both of the roles in the bag.

"Mal, you know Donna right? Ewan's publicist?" you ask, knowing that she and Donna are under the same agency. "Does she talk to you about Ewan at all? About what went down in New York?"

"A little, honey, yes," she admits. "But about that meeting, I thought you would know. He didn't tell you?"

"Not in too many words, no. Just that it didn't work out, and that the film wasn't meant for him."

"Oh, I see," she smiles, almost ruefully, like she feels sorry for you. That look compels you to ask, "What do you know, Mal? Tell me."

Her hand reaches and clutches yours atop the table. "From what I heard, he refused the role because of you."

"What?"

"It's rare with young actors like you guys, to be so devoted so early on."

Growing impatient, you say, "Mal, please, what are you saying?"

"Look, I don't know the details of it. But apparently Haversham wanted him to get into a PR stint with his love interest for the film, and to hide whatever real relationship he has going on with you. This ordeal was going to be more restrictive than the arrangement you have with Jacob, which is more or less over at this point."

"I didn't know that," you whisper hoarsely.

"Honey, don't worry about it," she consoles you, taking a sip of her coffee. "Like I said, I don't know much. I can get you in touch with Donna if you want to speak with her? I'm 100% positive it's not all bad. There's one thing we can be sure of, at least!"

You look at her expectantly, unable to formulate a guess.

"That boy loves you!"

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With only a few days left before filming, you had begun to make the final preparations before moving to Atlanta.

It's a late night, one laden with anxiety and nervous jitters, and the several shots of whiskey you had just taken do little to keep the walls from closing in.

Although, perhaps, it is better if they do. If they imprison you, even just for tonight, to keep you from whatever it is you plan to do.

It's for the best. I have to do this. I'm doing this for him, you keep telling yourself. You keep repeating the lies, letting them bounce relentlessly in the walls of your mind, until you fool yourself into thinking them to be true.

You had met with Donna a few days prior, and the whole situation was made clear to you. You didn't know for certain when the decision formed in your mind, but it's there, as real as the love you feel for Ewan.

The love you will have to bury.

He picks you up in his rental Rover, after you told him that you wanted to go for a drive. But you ask him to park his car behind the private apartment building where you're staying.

The car grinds to a halt, like a signal for you to get it over with. There is no going back now.

"Ewan... I - " You can't push the words out, more so when he reaches for your hands and squeezes. He looks at you with those eyes, expecting anything but what you're about to say.

"I'm sorry," you try again, and your voice breaks. His face slowly drops, the mood instantly changed, but the worse is yet to come.

"What are you sorry for, darling?" He rubs his thumb along your cheekbone, the sensation willing you to just abandon your plan completely. To abandon the lie.

"Whatever happens..." Just get it over with. "...I want you to know that I'll always be here for you. We are friends first, aren't we?" Peel the bandaid. Rip it off. Let it bleed.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he says.

You sound robotic, emotionless. But one wrong turn and the floodgates may break. There's a lump in your throat and you push it down. Reminding yourself to act - use your fucking acting skills if you actually have any. Now's the time. "We can't be together, Ewan."

There it is, sounding itself into existence, ruining the love you have in front of you.

His hand drops, as if he recoils back into himself. Away from you. It's cruel, but you know you will have to do more damage. You have to make it stick. This becomes clear when he says, "No", with conviction. "No, darling," he repeats. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Ewan - "

"You're not being funny, darling." He tilts his head, testing you, giving you the chance to retract your words and start laughing at your twisted joke. Darling comes out a mockery, something to say out of spite.

He takes a deep breath, leaning back in the driver's seat. "I don't... I don't accept this." He looks straight ahead, his lips pursed and jaw taut. "Fucking... why ?"

"I just... don't think it's going to work out."

"Bullshit."

Your words come out rushed, "You should take that role. I don't want you to hold back just for me. This could be something really great for you, Ewan. This could be it! Most actors pray for an opportunity like that to come along and I wouldn't want you to - "

"That's the reason?"

" - refuse it because of me. So we should - "

"Stop."

" - end this."

Silence. Not a single sound in the near-empty parking lot. No sirens in the distance, no pedestrian chatter. Just slow, heavy breathing in this rental car, both of you looking out the windshield. It feels stuffy all of a sudden, and not in the heated way when your limbs entwined in a jumble in the backseat a mere week ago.

"Please. I... I don't want to end this," he pleads. His knuckles are bone white, harshly gripping both sides of the steering wheel in an attempt to anchor himself. He shakes his head, and with some sense of hope, he says, "I don't care about that role. Okay? It's not the end of the world if I don't accept it. Have some faith in me, darling. I'll make it work. Surely there are plenty of other things down the line."

"Ewan," you whisper. You knew he would say this, which is why you prepared something worse. If that were even possible. You suck on your teeth, pulling on whatever poison you keep hidden away. You sigh and look away, a gesture that lets him know nothing will change your mind. "This fucking PR relationship business... it gets to you, you know? We don't know any better. I for one never expected to feel this way about - "

"About?" he finally turns to shoot you a look of betrayal, the pain in his eyes clear as day.

"I might have feelings for Jacob," you lie, "or I might not, I don't know. But there's something there, and I... I can't let this - us - go on while I'm conflicted about everything. It wouldn't be right."

Nothing about this is right.

But you go on, "I'll be off filming, with him, for a couple of months. And it's only going to make everything more confusing, and it wouldn't be fair to you, I know that - "

"I love you."

It's the first time he ever utters those three words, completely and without any doubt. He says them, despite everything you said before. And he means it.

A tear falls down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes shut to keep the rest at bay.

"I'm sorry," you look at him, in finality, and you want nothing more than to passionately kiss him hard on the mouth, to hold on to him tight and plead for him not to let you go. With your quivering form, you amble out of the car. Every step worsens the weight of what just transpired. His side of the car opens, and he calls for you, but you can't bear to look back.

He catches up to you, breathless and with a wild look in his face. His blue eyes swell with tears, but his brows are scrunched down as if he isn't bothered by them.

"I want you to look me right in the eye and tell me we don't matter. I want you to tell me you don't love me," he says, and it's the most vulnerable you've ever seen him. He searches your eyes for something, anything to hold on to. Part of him is still desperate enough to grasp at straws, on the hope that you will change your mind.

But the other hardened part, has become angry. Indignant. Because how could you do this to him? The only girl he has ever loved. So he needs to hear it from you, clearly. He needs you to drive the final nail on the coffin.

"I do love you," you croak, and you do nothing to stop your tears from flowing freely.

"Darling..."

"But I can't be with you," you turn away, one last time. "Goodbye, Ewan."

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Some time ago, during the meeting in New York...

The lush office was laden with expensive wooden furniture, one side with built-in shelves displaying film awards and plaques of varying degrees of prestige. A full glass minibar occupied the other side.

The casting director introduced himself as Bruce, insisting that Ewan call him by his first name and not any of that "sir or similar stick-up-the-ass names". Ewan can see him as a mentor or maybe even a friend, Bruce insisted.

After all, they were going to help each other out a lot...

(to be continued)

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Update! Read the second bonus chapter here ~

💌 next chapter

HOW DARE YOU, reader. How dare you.

The gif above paints a clear picture of Ewan's heart breaking in the car 🥲 just in case you guys needed a visual aid 🥲🥲

Next chapter - the meeting in New York, the reader's conversation with Donna, and.... we see them move on from each other (?) You know these bloody actors, one relationship in the first half of the year and then another right after...

Feel free to come for me in the comments <3 it was the most heartfelt chapter, after all. Also, let me know what yous want the bonus chapter to be about!

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #chemical override

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san8ny · 5 months

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Clerks ‘n Cunts

an: what if the guns n roses band name was uhh freaky and involved vaginas and gas station workers, how scary would that be.. / a draft i scrapped

Ellie Williams.

This was a bad idea.

Lewdly agreeing to hook up with the gas station clerk because you couldn’t pay for gas— genuine hoe shit.

You scruff out a few profanities as you climb over the counter, the lanky woman eyeing your short-shorts as you do so, smiling like this was the highlight of her shitty job

“Don’t give me that look, i’m not the one with an empty tank.” She snickers, calloused hand already finding itself sliding into your tresses as you kneel, “Now, be a good girl and open wide, yeah? I’ve had a rough da—aay..” Her words trail off, head tilted back in a breathy gasp when your wet tongue meets contact with her plushy lips, swollen clit hidden underneath like it’s asking you to come find it.

That’s one way to shut her up

You could tell with the mouth on her, she got no play. Just all bark, and no bite in return

“O-oh, ah! ah! ah..shiiiit..” Ellie whines as she rocks her groin onto your lips, her body at one point slumping forward, planting her hands flat on the counter as you suck, no—eat her soul out. How did this feel so good?

You didn’t let up on your assult either, wanting to make every second of this moment good for you.

To further the humiliation she’d unknowingly inflicted herself upon, the front door swings open, a customer.

A scruffy old man with a beer belly walks in, grease stains on his wifebeater as he throws a wad of cash onto the counter, “Pump 7, toots.”

Ellie’s eyes scrunch together as she tries to verbalize a quick-witted insult, instead, a meek moan quivering out when you begin tongue-fucking her, nose prodding up at her clit as you take more of her pussy into your inviting mouth,

The man looks confused, not understanding just what was happening due to the front counter’s concealment of where you kneeled

“A-allergies.” She mutters, taking the cash and pathetically counting it. Her legs were threatening to give out at this point from how much cum and spit were running down her inner-thighs. She wonders if he could hear your slurps?

Viscerally fed-up with her snail-like speed, he makes his way to the door and just leaves without the change.

Maybe she’d employ that method from now on?

“F-fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum..” She noises, looking down at you, beautiful face all wet and your cheeks hollowed out each time you apply suction to Ellie’s pearl, “Ahh..all in your mouth too? Hm? Give you a run f-oor your money?”

You nod, pulling your lips from her cunt and rubbing your pretty painted nails over the sopping mess, “Give it to me? Just really want my car to run..” You say, eyes tearing up from the pull she had on your hair, “Might let you finish on me too..”

Ellie doesn’t spare another moment, shoving you away and pulling down your top, “If i finish, I ‘wanna finish on your rack.” She heaves, slithering a hand down and beginning to draw figure 8’s on her cunt, all while you sit there with a smile on your slutty face, “U-uhnnn, so closeee.. ‘cmere doll..”

You press your soft breasts together, tilting your head up to watch the nasty scene as Ellie uses your tits to get off, perky nipples rubbing up on her slicked pussy giving just enough of a sensation she spurts cream all over them, fluids splashing on the cold marble floor and some on your face.

After a beat of silence and her slow breathing, you run a finger down your supple cheek and bring it inbetween your lips, “Pump 3, toots.”

Safe to say you left with some snacks, a filled tank and a phone number.

#tlou 2 #ellie williams x f!reader #Lesbian #wlw #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams smut #sapphic #some dirty shit im sorry

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phantomarine · 1 year

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Clam's Quick Tips for Starting Your Very First Webcomic

Howdy! Here are the three bits of advice I tend to give people who ask me about getting into webcomic-making. Maybe they can help you jump into the fray with a little less fear.

1) Make Your First Chapter a Pilot Episode

You will be told by webcomic veterans to start with a short, simple comic idea first - which is wise - but if all you can think about is your big magnum opus, then you might as well hop in, right? Otherwise you'll just be glancing back at the other cooler project forever.

But if you can't start with a small simple story, start on a small, simple part of that larger story. Your first chapter should be a snapshot of the main conflict - show us a simple scene with few characters, ease us in slowly, keep things clear and focus on emotion/impact/clarity. Get the audience to care by offering something easily digested, but full of promise.

Once you're done with that 'pilot' chapter, and you're feeling more comfortable with the whole comic process, you can open the gates and show us the larger world. At that point, you'll be way more ready.

2) Simplify Your Art Style For Your Own Sanity

Always try to make your webcomic's art style as simple as possible - the standard rule is to use only 75% of your artistic skill for every comic page you make. Otherwise you will burn out quickly and terribly.

But you also need to be PROUD of your art style. If you're really feeling itchy, add a couple bells and whistles to your style so you can look at the finished page and say "Yeah, looks cool." You'll find the right balance the more you draw.

Also, don't be afraid to change your art style as you go along. Ultimate consistency is often impossible in webcomics anyway - so embrace your desire to try new things, streamline your work, whatever you feel needs to happen to be happiest. Sometimes the coolest part of reading a webcomic is noticing that style change - so don't hesitate to embrace it!

3) Resist the Reboot! RESIST!

The curse/blessing of drawing the same things over and over is that you'll inevitably get better at drawing those things. The trouble comes when you look back at old stuff and start thinking "Damn, I could draw that way better now."

You must recognize that this feeling never goes away. Not after a hundred pages. Not after three hundred. Not after a thousand.

I think everyone should be allowed one soft reboot for their first webcomic. Redraw some panels that bother you. Change up some dialogue if it doesn't make sense with your new story ideas. Do maintenance, basically. One of the beauties of webcomics is that they can be easily edited, without reprinting a whole book or remaking a whole game.

But if the ultimate purpose of a webcomic is to tell a story, then constant reboots will just be retelling the same story - slightly better each time, but the same at its core. We've heard it before. Most audiences would rather you save your strength and just keep going, rather than circling back year after year and going "Wait wait wait! I'll do it better this time."

Reboot early, not often, and only when you absolutely must! You're a storyteller, and you're constantly getting better at telling your story. Don't be ashamed of it - look back how much ground you've covered, and keep walking!

---

That's a good start. Happy webcomicking - don't be afraid to jump in, but be prepared to learn a lot very quickly. And if this advice doesn't work for you or adhere to how you did it, that's absolutely fine - webcomics are diverse by nature, and so are their creation processes. Feel out what works best for you, and good luck!

#phantomarine #webcomic #advice #just talking #writing

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twst-hottest-takes · 1 month

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Tweel Anatomy discussion!

Part 1.

(Ask and ye shall recieve! This will be split up into a couple of parts because this could get long and it's easy enough to break up into pieces. [I definitely wasn't putting this off until the cards officially released.])

For starters I have to say again that I just love the twins and their merforms are so cool. I just want an excuse to gush about them. A lot of this discussiom will involve headcanons and hypotheticals and estimations, so there is your warning to not take anything in this post as law. This post, like pretty much all the others is very opinionated. Some of the fun bits about contemplating the anatomy of a fantasy creature involves drawing the imaginary lines between where the fish parts end and the human parts begin, and where the two become a blur and turn into something completely new. I like to think I strike a balance with my hypotheses, but perhaps others might not feel the same way. This is a post meant to start a discussion, not a fight. So let's see how far down the rabbit hole we can go . . .

Starting with a classic: How big are these guys?

Let's answer Ace's question. (While laughing like middle-schoolers about how that question was phrased.)

Now there is no canon answer to my knowledge so I can only give my best estimation. (Corrections welcome!) I firmly believe that they do not change "size" between their land and sea forms. For all intents and purposes, the twins are being treated as though their heads, arms, torsoes, and pelvic regions are the same size between human and merforms.

BECAUSE EVEN WITHOUT CHANGING SIZE THESE GUYS ARE ABSOLUTE MONSTERS IN THEIR MERFORMS.

I have no real proof of my theory. I simply compared the sprites and scaled the chibis until they had the same head size. Forgive me for not having a better method of measurement. I am not going to try and unravel the live 2D mermodels and I think trying to measure their shadows from their intro scene would be even less reliable. The length of the tail is approximately 75% the length of the rest of the body after where his feet theoretically end.

I didn't do the same with Floyd because I feel that it's safe to assume that he's probably a few cm longer (3-5 cm max) due to his 1 cm height difference when they are in human form. I hazard a guess that only the two of them actually care about that difference in length.

332 cm. (Or around 11 ft for those of us stateside.)

We know they're huge, but tying a number to the length REALLY puts things into perspective. Like it's actually a little scary.

Next: Gill placement.

I am a big fan of the gill slits being around the ribs! Not only do they look cool, but I like that it can be read as a combination of human and eel anatomy in their merforms.

Since they have a humanoid chest cavity, it makes sense that even though they don't have lungs, they may have a muscular structure similar to a diaphragm. By having a muscular system that works passively/sympathetically they could have a "breathing" motion similar to humans; but, instead of taking air in, it simply keeps water moving across the gills to maintain gas exchange.

Benefits of this system include: Being able to sleep (as I would assume merfolk do), and being able to stay in one place (most fish need to be moving constantly to keep their gills working). The ability to be stationary isn't necessary for fish, but for merfolk who have social conventions, even being able to sit still to have a conversation is a boon (unless the world of mermen is built around the idea that no one ever sits still, but I feel like the photograph from Book 3 proves otherwise).

Furthermore, having the gills on the ribs as opposed to somewhere farther up--for example, on the neck--the twins can reasonably stick their heads out of the water without fear of limiting their breathing ability. Though these new card illustrations show that they don't seem to have any problem with having their gills exposed to the air (at least as far as being photogenic is concerned), I can see it being convenient for merfolk to be able to poke their head and shoulders above the water and still be able to breath regularly (which definitely doesn't have anything to do with luring unwary travelers to their deaths. . .nope. . .not at all).

I have seen people say they don't like the choice and that the gills should be on their necks. If that's coming from a place of personal preference and is purely aesthetic I guess I can see it. But if anyone tries to tell me that it's not "eel-like" enough and they need to have the gills closer to the mouth, I will fight you. From a design and functionality standpoint the rib gills are fantastic!

For the last bit of this entry, let's talk about the elephant in the room: THE EEL ABS!

I'd say "don't get me started on this one" but I'm already here and we're already too deep in, so here we go.

Things are about to get spicy!

~They're fine.

Like, as a choice, the inclusion of these muscles is likely just for fanservice points, but it's not an anatomically strange thing.

Come here and I will explain to you a thing:

MERFOLK DO NOT SWIM WITH THE SAME MUSCLE GROUPS AS HUMANS DO!

Once upon a time, (this is going somewhere, just stick with me!) people complained that Ariel, the Little Mermaid herself, was too skinny and not built like a swimmer. People insisted that she not have such a tiny waist and her arms should be bigger. Now I, here and now, should not have to tell the reader why this is so ridiculous to say, but I'm going to anyway~ ARIEL DOES NOT USE HER ARMS TO SWIM! Those who have watched the movie may have observed that she swims like an aquatic mammal. All of her momentum comes from the verticle motion of her tail, and to some extent her abdomen, not her arms. When she turns human, Ariel does not even know how she can use her arms to help her swim upwards and out of the ocean. She struggled without her tail so much Sebastian and Flounder basically carried her to the surface.

In this way, merfolk do not need to have the same type of body as a human swimmer because they are functionally different and some people seem to get stuck on that.

Now returning to Jade and Floyd, again, their arms are not "built like a swimmer's." Once again THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE. There is nothing in all of Twisted Wonderland that suggests they swim with their arms at all. These boys have 5 foot long tails that are probably primarily muscle to propel themselves through the water. The arms are not for propulsion. The tails do the grand majority of the work, but this conversation was started about abdominal muscles so we'll circle back to that now. Unlike other merfolk (as exemplified by Ariel) who swim with verticle motions of their tails, eel-based mermen would swim by making horizontal motions, also primarily with their tails. I do say primarily because the idea occurs to me that there may be situations where the limits of their ability to move might be tested. If a merman built like this wanted to go significantly faster than whatever is "normal" for them, muscle groups higher in the body would get used. Essentially, given Jade and Floyd as characters, I don't find it hard to believe that, at the speeds they swim, they would be using their very human-shaped abdomens to increase their speed. That's a workout, especially for the obliques.

So, in conclusion, I don't think the abs are weird. Gratuitous? Absolutely. But they aren't the anatomical monstrosity some people seem to think they are.

Let me say once more, if you simply don't like how it looks, or the fish abs squick you out and you like to headcanon they don't exist--that's fine. But don't argue with me on the basis that it's not realistic. Mermaids are, after all, fictional creatures and depictions of them tend to be fanciful. The tough conversation comes about when we choose to draw the lines with how realistic we actually want them to be, HENCE THIS ENTIRE POST!

(Laughs like a maniac before signing off.)

Thank you for coming to the first part of my rambling. What should I talk about in the next part?

Other than the throat teeth. We've got a miniature essay about the throat teeth just about ready to go.

Also, apologies if there aren't enough visual guides. I really wanted to get this posted, so if anyone wants me to I can doodle up some more stuff to help with things like the image of the breathing aparatus and swimming motions. I have just not had much time this week.

(Going to fall asleep thinking about how sparkly these boys are.)

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pinkandblueblurbs · 2 years

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premeditated

Rick Grimes x Daryl Dixon x Fem!reader. Threesome, penetrative sex, oral sex (m receiving), throat fucking, dirty talk, d/s, unsafe sex, spit roasting, cunnilingus, praise, degradation, mentions of reader’s hair.

a/n: please don’t take this as me coming back to writing consistently :’) i just got inspired and figured i might as well act on it. I pictured this set in some empty room in the prison during season 3 but it can be set during any season w the prison.

word count: 1.2k

You don’t notice him at first.

Your eyes are squeezed shut. Your senses are overwhelmed by Daryl— his low grunts in your ear, his strong arm around your middle where he holds you up against him. His cock pounding into you from behind. His palm clamped over your mouth, muffling your lewd moans and the pained squeaks that escape you when he hits a particularly hard thrust.

It’s not until you finally tear your eyes open that you see Rick Grimes leaning against the doorway. You aren’t sure how long he’s been there, but he’s hard in his pants, and when you meet his eye his mouth morphs into a smirk.

Daryl must realize that you noticed him by the way your cunt spasms around his cock. Unsure whether to take that as a sign of alarm or arousal, he leans closer to you, breath tickling your ear.

“You okay?” He whispers, thrusts slowing as he waits for your response. Part of you wonders if this was planned, but the thought is fleeting as Daryl’s hips come to a stuttered halt.

You give a single nod against his palm, desperate for him to continue, and that’s enough for him. He picks back up again, the soft sound of skin on skin filling the room once more.

Rick must take that as his cue because he pushes himself upright from the doorframe and stalks towards you, head tilted slightly as his eyes rake over the scene before him. Somehow, that’s enough to get you moaning again.

“He finally caught you alone, huh? Took ‘im long enough.” Rick’s voice is lower than you’ve ever heard it. Daryl lets out a scoff, and the brief exchange is enough to tell you that this was very much premeditated. You cling to Daryl desperately, hand curled around his bicep, which flexes under your fingers as he supports your weight.

When he gets close enough Rick reaches out to cup the underside of your jaw. You gaze up at him through your lashes, and you can’t miss the arousal that floods his eyes at the sight of you.

“I’ll help keep ‘er quiet.” He murmurs, his other hand moving to the buckle of his belt. He must catch the way your eyes widen and snap down to the large bulge of his dick, because he lets out a low chuckle. “You have her mouth yet?”

“Nah,” Daryl’s gruff voice pipes up behind you, “couldn’t wait to be in this fuckin’ pussy no longer.”

Rick hums, undoing the fly of his pants then freeing his hard cock from his boxers. Your eyes stay the size of saucers.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” He says softly, making you glance up at him. The grin on his face turns the sympathy in his voice to condescension. “You’ll take it just fine.”

Rick’s hand moves from your jaw to the back of your hair, finding a firm grip there and guiding your head downwards. Daryl’s palm releases from your mouth and you take in a big gasp of air— which Rick promptly takes advantage of as he pushes his cock past your lips.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The man grits out as your hot mouth envelopes him. Daryl’s hands move to hold your hips, his grip bruising as he slams into you again and again. The force of his thrusts knock you forward rhythmically, drawing Rick’s cock in and out of your mouth, making you gag whenever it hits the back of your throat.

Your hands shoot up to hold onto Rick’s thighs for support as they fuck into you from both sides. Pleasure mounts in your belly from the combination of Daryl’s cock hitting your g-spot and the erotic thought of being trapped between the two men while they use you.

“He fuckin’ you good, baby?” Rick croons, his own voice strained. All you can offer as a response is a loud, broken moan. “Christ— might be able to hear you from the cellblock even with a cock down your throat.”

“Doubt she’d mind the others listenin’,” Daryl grits out darkly. “Dirty fuckin’ slut.”

That pulls another moan from you, and Rick echoes it with a low groan at the vibrations against his shaft. The hand not in your hair reaches under you to grope your tit through your ratty shirt.

You can feel it when Daryl’s getting close. His hips speed up from slow deep thrusts to erratic, frantic ones, and his groans become more hoarse. Your own orgasm is approaching— and while you aren’t surprised when he pulls out of you to shoot ropes across your back, you can’t help the dissapointed whimper that escapes you.

“Quit whinin’ girl.” He says breathlessly as he pumps the last shot of cum from his cock. You feel his big hands grip the flesh of your ass. “You’re still gonna get yours.”

He kneels down, and you choke on your gasp when you feel his hot breath against your pussy. Then his tongue is on you, lapping up the moisture threatening to drip to the ground. Rick graciously pulls back to allow you some reprieve, and you suckle at the head of his cock, enjoying the pleasure of Daryl’s mouth against you.

He’s a bit sloppy at first, but he learns quickly. He closely observes you, reacting deftly to every moan and repeating any action that makes your pussy clench. It’s not long before you’ve climbed back to the brink of orgasm.

What sends you over the edge is two thick fingers being shoved into your cunt, curling inside you. You let out a long moan as callouses sponge over your g-spot.

“There you go, darlin’. Cum for Daryl. Let ‘im taste ya.” Rick murmurs from above you. His hips snap shallowly, letting you ride out your orgasm without obstruction.

Daryl pulls away once you start to squirm from overstimulation. You lower to your knees, Rick’s grip on your hair never allowing his cock to leave your lips, and he picks his pace back up.

“Gonna swallow for me?” You blink up at him, brain foggy and eyes glassy, and nod obediently. “Good girl.”

With those growled words he’s shoving in deep and emptying down your throat. He holds you there despite your gag, and you do your best to swallow the hot liquid.

He finally releases your head and steps back, cock slipping from your mouth and taking a string of saliva with it. You’re both panting, chests heaving from exertion, skin slick with sweat.

You feel a gentle grounding touch at the back of your head. Daryl pets your hair, coaxing you back to reality.

“Y’alright, hon?” He rumbles. You nod with a content him.

“You kiddin’ me? More than alright.”

“Told you she would be.” Rick says as he reaches out to thumb some drool off your chin. Then he reaches under your arms and helps you up on wobbly feet with a whispered “easy.”

You look back at Daryl, an easy grin on your face.

“Where the hell did you learn to eat pussy like that, Daryl Dixon?” That gets a true laugh from Rick, and Daryl holds your gaze for a moment before glancing away with a scoff, the faintest color painting his cheeks.

“Shut up.”

#daryl dixon #rick grimes #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x you #daryl dixon x rick grimes #twd #the walking dead #rick grimes smut #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #andrew lincoln

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gallapiech · 2 months

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And that's the end of Highway of Hedonism... It's now fully finished!! So you can binge read it if you want 😌

[READ IT HERE] time to pull back the curtain

the huggerrr!!!

The direction of this one was pretty straight forward!

I don't have a sketch for this one since I simply painted over the original drawing, but I figured it could be interesting to see them side by side! It does feel kinda bad that my last few drawings were all so sad 😭 Since there isn't much art to show in this post I'll show a couple of cancelled drawings :3

I actually sketched out a little kiss for the ending where it shows the trucker hat with the updated tally! But I simply didn't have the time or energy to finish it 😪

I initially planned to make a drawing for the scene where Mickey undresses in the car. But Rory told me that the straddle scene would make way more sense. (which, true. sighhhh no undressing mickey 😪)

One of the first things I drew was thumbnails for our chapter art! We originally planned to give every chapter different art but decided to use that energy for the story art instead hehe. I had put the chapter art on the backburner for a while and when I looked back at what we had I just did not vibe with it. But I was also swamped with a bunch of other stuff so I asked Rory if she could make it instead. And I am SOOO glad that I did because SHE FUCKING DELIVERED!!!!!! The chapter art we have now might be one of my fav drawings of this entire fic!! - All the other unseen art has been made by @roryonic (I very much encourage her to show it! There's some beautiful pieces hidden from the world </3!!!!) Speaking of, once again thank you Rory for being overly ambitious on this project with me. LOL. I definitely had moments where I was scared that this would be a bust, or that I couldn't do it anymore. But your work ethic inspired me to keep going, and I am grateful for your support, both mentally and physically. Eternally grateful that you took on some of the art jobs ♥ Both thankful but sad that its over now!! 🤣 I think im gonna take a 200 hour nap now. Thanks for checking out our fic ♥

#gallavich #my art #ian x mickey #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #shameless au #shameless us #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanart #gallavich au #HoH

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muzanswaifu · 1 year

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Bittersweet

Demon! Sanemi x Fem! Reader

18+

Request: "I have been waiting to read something like this for so long. Demon Sanemi craving blood because fem!reader is on her period, so yk he eats her out without mercy❤️"

Demon Sanemi is so mean I love hiiiim :3 Need me a man who would eat me out on my period 😒 Jk jk that shit gotta taste nastyyyyyyy

NSFW Warnings: Yandere, Non-con, Smut, Sexism, Kidnapping, Forced Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Menstruation, Blood Kink, Forced Orgasm, Kinda Gross ngl

The rhythmic pitter-patter of feet echoes through the green, a slow churn of water thrumming with the flow of the current. Even the thick noise of crickets and wind couldn't drown out the hint of life found deep in the brush, the figurative curl of a finger beaconing him to draw closer, to close the union of rarity.

He took a breath. A deep one. Taking in the pungent scent of weak males. And a female.

Shinazugawa could nearly taste the delectable meat already, the flavor settling on his tongue and seducing his taste buds. Drool nearly threatened his mouth, but he withheld himself. He wasn't an animal. Not technically, anyway.

But he might as well be. Only an animal could hunt as he did, track as he did, kill as he did. But a beast was not nearly as precise as he was, not leaving even a scrap of evidence in his wake. Only the crime scene would be found, a gorey scene of bone and torn flesh, remnants of his well-earned meal. But only the males would wither...

As for the female -

Oh gods, did just the thought of it make him salivate, his very bones trembling with need. Her scent alone made him feel weak with hunger, his tongue curling with horrid intent. The fragrance was familiar to him, a vague memory of his past existence of rare blood, the same unique trait only serving as a grand pillar toward his success as a demon. Her blood ran the same, her veins full of the powerful elixir that his kind would quite literally kill each other for. But he had no need for such rivalry.

The path the cattle strode upon was a hidden one, veiled by a plentiful layer of wisteria about fifty feet aways on either side of the trail. The effort wasn’t so useless, he supposed. Perhaps it served useful against weaker demons of no rank, the fiends not yet powerful enough to develop some resistance to it. But his godly build was stronger, the frail flower only giving his skin a lingering sting. His hunger far outweighed it.

He had long stalked his prize. The demon had patience in these rare situations, biding his time for the perfect opportunity to make his efforts all the more worth it. It had been several moons ago that he’d first stumbled upon her delivery across these lands, his keen eye catching the lingering dust kicked up by the horses that pulled her carriage. Even back then, the chance had been perfect. The men were unknowing, all walls of defense down as the car came to a halt, surely one of exhaustion. Shinazugawa drew closer, only a breath away from finally feasting when his vision was obscured by a heavenly vision.

A small thing she was, her skirts nearly catching under her feet as she gracefully stepped down from her traveling abode. The moonlight shimmered brilliantly off her glazed skin as she bent her delicate neck back, stretching out the aching tightness trapped there. Her (h/c) hair was frizzy across the outline, the static from the summer heat pulling at the threads and giving them a coiled curl. His maw fell open with his amazement.

He’d come across several humans of marechi blood in his infinite lifetime, and most, if not all, were nothing much to look at, quite ugly in his opinion. They all bore the same simplicity and naïveté, their only unique trait being their delectable composition that gave them their sole purpose of feasting. But she was so drastically different.

Everything about this female sang rarity, her natural features reminiscent of that of ancient goddesses that mortal men could only wish to touch. But here she was. Within an arm’s reach, he could have her, do with her what he wished. He was nearly disgusted with himself, being far more captivated with his food than he should’ve been. Sparing her of death would’ve been such a waste of opportunity, one that even those lower than him wouldn’t have been so idiotic as to squander. Yet, his own self-doubt swallowed him as he drew back into the dark wood, letting her little toy soldiers bring her back to the safety of the nearing daylight.

He’d gorged himself after that, consuming soul after soul at a nearby village in an attempt to quench his own frustration and need. There weren’t many options to consider. He couldn’t spare the thing entirely, he wasn’t that fucking stupid, but he didn’t very much want her dead either. Turning her definitely wasn’t an option, women just didn’t have as much potential as demons, and he had his own personal beliefs that women shouldn’t dirty their hands. But dear gods, her scent, her smell alone probably called upon hundreds of demons to her location daily, perhaps it would’ve been a mercy to take the female’s life.

Fuck.

He hated himself for how indecisive he was. Not once in his entire demonhood had he been at such a crossroad of hesitance. There had to be another option that held the best of both worlds, yes? Shinazugawa just hadn’t come across it yet.

But fate gave him a hint as he snatched up the severed half of a female he’d killed, her guts spilling into his lap as he gnawed on her fat ankle. His daggered eyes trailed up her cold thigh, lining the dark trail of blood that seeped from under her skirt. A small confusion fell over him as he mulled over the strange placement. His blade’s cut through her navel had been clean, her blood pooling into the muddy grass and not at all staining much of her clothing. Yet the chain of red kept its existence, running into the conjunction of her thighs. Cursing his own curiosity, Sanemi swept the pesky material aside, only to be met with the brilliance of a cruel idea.

It hadn’t been hard at all to follow along the woman’s usual route of travel again, her men taking the same path, ignorant of its dangerous discovery. Yet the timing was unfortunately off, her smell still sickeningly sweet and clean rather than bitter and dirty. He’d have to wait for next time. And the next. And the next. He’d nearly given up hope entirely until the fated night his lungs were filled with the metallic scent that had his belly tensing with primal famine. Just the mere aroma of ichor had drool gathering in his jowls, his fists clenching with need. It only grew thicker as her quaint carriage drew near, the clicking wheels singing a dreadful tune with each snap against the road. Sanemi could already taste the woman on his tongue, her savory flesh plump and tender between his teeth… god, he was going to lose it.

He nearly did as she stepped from her carriage in the same manner as their first meeting, her hair knit in tight braids across her crown, framing her delicate features. She was dressed more eloquently this time, Her gown long and loose yet hugging her figure with a gentle tightness. He mused to himself that perhaps she was on her way to some formal event to maintain appearances, maybe even earn herself a husband. Yet the notion of such a possibility irked him all the same. He’d never felt a hunger like this before, if one could even call it that. This felt so much more significant, crucial even, as if his very life depended on it. And maybe it did, since he would most definitely not let himself live if he couldn’t get even a single taste of her blood. Her body was his to take.

It took him no time at all to do away with the weaklings, the men’s bodies falling one after the other into the gravel, making a sad splash as their vitals funneled out. The man ogling at her backside was the first to go, his head severed the instant his eyeline met the wide curve of her dress, dropping to the ground with a thud and rolling to a leisure stop to her heel. When the woman finally turned from her distraction of the ominous wood, she was met with pure, bloody isolation.

Her horrified scream echoed loud, her hands clawing at her own face as she looked upon the gory scene of blood and guts that surrounded her. Shinazugawa was almost impressed at her reaction speed as she quickly turned foot and bolted, running through the thick bush despite her frailty. He couldn’t help but snicker, so enamored by her utter foolishness of trying to escape. If the men protecting her couldn’t even survive, what made her think she was the exception?

“God, you’re fucking stupid, ha!” he cackled, leaping about the tree-line, nipping at her backside but giving her just the right amount of space to let her hope she could get away.

She was not at all athletic, her stamina quickly dwindling as her frail figure fought with itself to continue on. Her chest burned, her feet hurt, her will to keep moving dwindling by the second and feeding into the persuasive idea of giving up. Yet the monster snatched her before she could choose, slamming her into the soft, melted ground and caking her elegance in earth. His hand wrapped around her pretty neck firmly, another snaking down her bodice and tearing open the gold buttons of her dress. His tongue swept across his lip as he unwrapped her, taking his sweet time to unveil every inch of her pristine flesh to his ravenous eye, her little fists pounding at his chest as she sobbed and screamed for help.

“Shut it,” Sanemi growled lowly, surprised to see her actually listen, her lip wobbling and eyes flooding as she silenced herself. He could still hear her pathetic whimpers as he stripped her, her small frame shaking as he brushed down her stomach, removing the lacy undergarments that hid her delicate body from his sight. He could see her plush intimacy coming into view from beneath her coverings, her curved hips thickening her figure, her thighs trembling as they tried desperately to hide themselves. But there was nothing that could be done about that now as she lied there, helpless, powerless, weak.

He opened his mouth wide, exposing sharp canines and letting his hot breath wash over her firm abdomen as her tears began anew and wept down her flushed cheeks. The demon was pleased, relishing in her surrender and submission as he gently ran his tongue down her navel, sampling his meal and savoring the girl's pitiful sobs. He loved it when humans cried, when they begged and pleaded for their lives like the weaklings they were, it made things so much more exciting.

His tongue flicked out over her pelvis, gliding over the pudge over her sex as he breathed in the scent of her musk, tainted with ovulation. Sanemi could already feel the saliva gathering in a jowls as he began to peel down her underwear, a cotton cloth clinging to the crotch of it. Her breath stuttered.

"N-no, no, please! Please... please!" she cried out, shaking hard and grasping at her own face, nearly clawing her eyes out with panic. But she knew better than to try to fight him off again, clearly more afraid of what he would do then than what he was currently doing. He couldn't help but grin against her supple flesh, his edged teeth nicking her thigh. She jerked at the sudden pain and the warm sensation of blood trickling down her leg, soaking into the dirt.

"P-Please, p-p-please don't... h-hurt me," her words shook with her exterior, her sniffling likely a strong persuasion to those who had a heart. He obviously didn't but was still bothered by her pestering fear of being eaten. "If I was going to eat you, don't you think I would have done it already?" he groaned sarcastically.. The human slowly removed her fingers to peak down at him, her eyes red and welled with tears, lip trembling. He laughed.

"I mean come on, you think I'd let you bitch and moan this long just to kill you later? If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Quit fucking crying," he hissed.

She sniffled again. "B-but -"

"Zip it."

Her mouth snapped shut, quickly obeying before her brain could even comprehend him.

Sanemi growled. "Talk again and you get to join those fuckers back there." He nodded his head back to the direction of her abandoned carriage and dead guards. His claws dug into her thighs, pulling them to spread wider to encompass his presence. "The sooner you let me take what I want, the sooner I let you go. But I don't deal with brats. You either listen or you don't, 's up to you bitch."

He wasn't sure how he expected her to react, but it definitely wasn't for her to spread herself wider, without any instruction. It was almost touching how quickly she gave in, not even needing a moment to think it over before she opened herself up for him to do as he pleased. If he didn't know any better, he'd think she were eager for it.

His head fell down to her core again, his fangs pricking the surface of her skin yet again, drawing forth a shallow line of blood as he slid them down her inner thighs, his eyes locked on her frightened yet curious gaze. She shivered at the sharpness of his touch, her legs trembling as he moved further south, trying to appease his hungered excitement. He resumed pulling down her panties, reveling in the aroma of moon blood that filled his senses as he took away all obstruction. It was beautiful. The smell of blood. The sight of red dripping from her puffy lips. He could only imagine the taste, so eager in his imagination of its excellence. He'd never tasted pure ovulation blood before, never even thought of it actually. It would be stupid to use just his tongue when he could devour with his teeth in an instant and move on to the next meal. But this was a different situation entirely. This woman could satiate him for years, decades even, with marechi blood. It didn't hurt that she was a hot piece of ass either. If he didn't get himself together soon, he might end up fucking his food as well.

The woman's eyes lingered on his leisure movements, the drawl of his dangerous eyes along her sex as he studied the meal. Embarrassment quickly rose in her chest as she realized his intentions, praying that he’d move on with whatever he was trying to do so her dignity could recover. Although, she supposed letting him taste her menstrual blood was better than getting eaten alive... but hardly.

The demon felt her pulse quicken in his grasp, her breathing growing faster and her patience dwindling as she began to quiver again. He didn't blame her though, not in the slightest. But he had every right to such a rare female, he deserved everything. And if the needs of others were sacrificed, so be it. He knew he wouldn't be able to resist her for too long. He was ravenous.

And he was horny.

He smiled as his head dipped down, his tongue flicking out to smooth against her swollen clitoris, barely brushing the top as he inhaled the fragrance of her blood. Her legs trembled, her muscles tensing as her hips buckled in response, shocked with the sudden feeling of sensitivity. She had to bite her lip to silence her noise of surprise. He chuckled as he teased her, dragging his tongue from one side to the other, teasing her wet folds and leaving behind a thin trail of saliva. He didn't really care for her pleasure at the moment, but he was curious of her response to it. Dinner and a show. That was fine by him.

She bit her lip harder, her thighs flexing to keep from touching him. Sanemi was excited at her reaction, watching her face contort with each and every careless stroke of his tongue, her hips subconsciously rising to feed herself into his awaiting mouth. A few times, she almost grabbed for him, but her arms were still pinned to her side by her own strong will to survive. He liked that, enjoyed her struggle as he continued to lick her up and down, her clit becoming more sensitive with each and every pass. Her blood was intoxicating, his head already growing dizzy as he drank her from the source. He thought it would be difficult to keep himself from biting down but the thought never even grazed his mind as he continued giving sloppy licks and sucks to her weeping heat. She was so tasty, so sweet, so ripe. It seemed like she would never stop bleeding as his tongue was eternally blessed with a fresh coat of red. He wondered for a moment if it was possible to drain her of it all in one night.

He growled, his head lowering down to her opening and his tongue falling out again as she whimpered in anticipation, eyes closed tight. She felt like she was losing her mind with every pass of his ravenous tongue. Her head was so foggy and light, her pussy so warm, she couldn't stop herself from letting out small noises of pleasure as he kept feasting upon her. It took every ounce of her being not to wrap her legs around his head and trap him into her center, forcing him to cease his cruel teasings. What little was left of her fear only heightened the experience, giving her a blissful taste of sin that she'd never indulged before, the sense of danger giving her such a rush.

Her ichor only grew sweeter on his tongue by the second, her slick diluting her blood in heavier batches that gave him more a taste of lust than power. He focused on her hole then, realizing that nipping at her clit certainly wasn't helping the situation. Yet, her pleasure rose none-the-less. His tongue worked hard, dashing inside of her, licking up every drop of liquor, drinking it down as if it were a fine wine. It was nearly too good to be true, this level of strength he felt. He looked down at the girl, his eyes burning into her as he watched her squirm and grip the earth. She was so delicious.

But he needed more.

His tongue pumped into her again and again, dipping as far as it could reach before retreating to her entrance to lick up anything that had escaped him. She shuddered, her hips subtly grinding on his face to chase her nearing end. It continued building in her belly, sending bolts of electricity up her spine and warming her insides. She couldn't even feel the pain of her cramps anymore.

Sanemi sipped at her wetness more vigorously, his tongue lapping at her like a dog, desperate for more of his meal. He slowed only for a moment as the woman gave a small cry, her hips and thighs quaking harshly and tensing in his palms. He wasn't even angry when her juices sprayed him, drenching his lower face and dripping down his lips. If anything he was amused, only a human could come from such little care. Yet, he stopped, her cunt hardly even bleeding anymore being so wet with arousal and relief. What was the point of pleasing her when he gained nothing in return.

He rose from his position on the ground, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes raked down her sloppy appearance, certainly not that of a noblewoman. Her backside was caked with mud, her hair messy and matted, her face red and mouth leaking with drool. She nearly looked peaceful as she let out gentle pants, still softly shaking from such a strong orgasm. He rolled his eyes.

"Get up," he commanded, uncaring of her condition. "I don't have all fucking night."

The woman only rose when his growls became violent, her movements awkward and her head still in the clouds. She still attempted to cover herself, tucking an arm over her breasts and cupping her sex with another.

"I'm only going to explain this once so I suggest you pay attention-" he began, her eyes quickly lighting up with fright, "You are going to come back to this path every month during your menses. You will come alone. No guards. No friends. No nobody. Understand?"

She squirmed nervously in her footing, her fear beginning to crest again. "B-but I-I won’t be a-allowed to travel for n-no r-r-reason..." she stuttered.

"Not my problem."

"A-and how would I come back without anyone to take-"

"Not. My. Problem." he hissed meanly, making her cower away.

He stepped forward to her, towering over her little form. "I'm not here to negotiate. I'm just telling you what you're going to do. I don't give a fuck how you're gonna do it, but if you know what's good for you, you'll obey. You want anyone else dead because of you?" he sneered.

Her lip quivered and tears glazed in her eyes. "N-no."

Sanemi chuckled, looking down at her and pressing a strong hand over her lower belly and brushing away her small hands, dangerously close to her privates that were still glazed with his saliva.

"This is mine," he stated, passing two fingers between her puffy cunt lips, "Give it to anyone else and I'll kill them and make you watch. I'll make it slow too. You want that?" She violently shook her head, nearly on the cusp of pissing herself from the terror of such a suggestion.

He hummed with his approval of her response, giving her another once over with his eyes and a quick squeeze of her breast before backing away into the night, undisturbed with how on earth she was going to get back home. It would've been any second that he could lose control of himself and pounce, a desperate need growing in pants to satiate himself. He'd have to establish that as another rule - no fucking when she was edible. Maybe he'd pay her another visit later when her period was over, at her estate perhaps, just to take away her innocence and test out how useful she was to him. He could only imagine how pathetic she would look speared on his cock with nowhere else to go, but that would be for another night, he couldn't forget her main purpose.

And he couldn't wait to get a taste of that again.

@acehyacinth

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@doumakiss

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xoxoskai · 10 months

Text

NIKOBRAN HEADCANNONS

to keep you going this last week before God of Fury drops<3

Between all his sons-in-law, Brandon is Kyle's favorite.

Levi's is Mia (cousin-fuckers who stole his son and daughter he'll always beef with)

Brandon and Niko are the type of relatives to wear matching clothes on Christmas because Niko would take up any chance to wear matching anything with Brandon.

If and when Brandon bakes, no one gets a chance to even taste what he made before Niko devours it all.

The only place Niko can fall asleep in at record speed is Brandon's arms.

The only reason Niko teaches Brandon how to drive a bike is so he can put his arms around his boyfriend's slutty waist boyfriend.

Remi is terrified on Brandon's behalf.

"Bran, yes, he's hot but mate, look at that guy! He has some skin on those tattoos!"

Astrid shares Remi's concerns but soon comes to find out that Niko is the biggest goofball of sunshine and almost adopts him.

Surprisingly, the one who takes the longest to accept Brandon is Rai. Because it's not her first time meeting the Kings (hello, she's a far relative) and she's worried that her oldest who is actually tender hearted and plagued by demons of his past, might be crushed beyond repair if Brandon hurt him.

Brandon and Landon think they can get away with tricking their in-laws by dressing as each other but they underestimate the Sokolov-Hunters who told them apart the moment they walked in.

Brandon tried it on Niko once when he first divulged about how Maya and Mia used to do it, but Niko could tell Brandon apart from his "psycho" brother in a heartbeat.

"It's your eyes" He had murmured. "Yours sparkle"

Glyndon is weary of Niko but as long as Brandon's happy, she's happy.

Landon is supremely unhappy.

When Landon first opposes their relationship by threatening Niko, Niko flings back "Remember who you're dating and what I mean to them" back at him.

Niko and Landon almost kill each other multiple times.

If there's someone even more unhappy than Landon, it's Crieghton.

Creighton: "Does this mean I can't fight him anymore?" Elsa: "Why were you fighting him before this?!" Creighton: "Is anyone else hearing this buzzing? I should go check."

Niko goes feral whenever he sees Brandon shirtless and vice-versa but

Niko is always shirtless, so Brandon is always suffering.

Unlike Niko, Brandon doesn't carry him into a dark corner to immediately fuck.

If there's no scene of Brandon asking Niko "Who's fucking you?" Rina, you'll hear from my therapist. And if there's not a single, evil, unhinged Brandon moment where Niko is flabbergasted at the change and is accusing him of being two-faced at which Brandon will laugh, lean in and ask tauntingly "What are you going to do? Tell on me?" I will sue.

Brandon's muse is Niko. (Bitch, I said what I said)

Unlike Landon, Brandon doesn't divulge this piece of information to his boyfriend because he does not want to give Niko even more reasons to walk around with lesser clothes.

Brandon gets a tattoo for Niko on his ribs. (cue feral Nikolai)

After which Niko tries to get Brandon's name tattooed on his favorite organ, but Jeremy literally deadlocks the door to his room to keep him inside after Niko asked for opinions in their group chat about his decision.

Niko: You don't think it's romantic? Jeremy, Killian, Gareth, Landon, Eli, Creighton, Remi:

They've definitely rolled around in paint and fucked on a canvas after it. Niko would display it in the entryway of their house if Brandon let him.

They've also joined the mile high club.

After they get engaged, Brandon calls him by his full-name as in "Nikolai Sokolov-Hunter-King" just to piss him off but Nikolai loves being associated to Brandon in every possible way, so it backfires.

Their wedding bands have each other's name inscribed in them.

As does the underside of their ring fingers in the other's handwriting.

Nikolai tries drawing a heart over the i in his name and almost gets smacked.

#legacy of gods #nikolai sokolov #brandon king #nikolai x brandon #nikobran #god of fury #god of malice #god of pain #god of ruin #god of war #eliava #eli x ava #eli king #landon king #jeremy volkov #creighton king #mia sokolov #maya sokolov #cecily knight

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alwaysmoncheri · 3 months

Text

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary: in which best friends, y/n henderson and steve harrington get caught up in their feelings while paranormal activities occur in the small town of hawkins, indiana

cw: fem!reader, I wrote this a long time ago(I apologize for everything cringe), shit writing, first person pov, jealous steve, swearing, billy being touchy/aggressive?, dustin purring, stancy, 2.4k

As I approach Hawkins High School, I take in the bustling parking lot, the scene filled with many students going about their morning. I set my bike on the rack, lock it up, and start to make my way towards the building, my eyes slowly taking in the atmosphere. The sun is shining brightly, the morning glow causing long shadows to cast across the grounds. The sound of chatter and the smell of cigarettes fills the air as I walk.

As I pass the parking lot, my eyes land on the familiar sight of Steve's maroon car parked in a spot. I see Nancy in the passenger seat, both of them engaged in a deep conversation. My eyes immediately catch Steve's gaze, causing my heart to pound in my chest. He's the first to send a little two-finger wave and a smile in my direction which causes butterflies to flutter alive in my stomach. I wave back, my eyes moving to Nancy as she finally glances up and sends a bright smile and another wave.

I don't get very far away from Steve's car when I hear the engine of a car revving. Steve and Nancy climb out of his car and I stand next to the girl. As my eyes catch a black Chevrolet Camaro whipping into the parking lot, tires screeching against the tarmac. I stop and watch in interest, the sound drawing in other members of the student body. My curiosity grows and I wonder who could be making such a dramatic entrance.

A girl with fiery red hair climbs out the passenger side and skates up the road, quickly disappearing from sight as she heads towards the middle school. Meanwhile, a boy about my age, clad in all denim with blonde hair and stunning eyes, climbs out of the drivers side in an almost slow-motion manner, sending all the girls around swooning. He looks around with a smirk, locking eyes with mine and sending me a wink before taking a drag of his cigarette and tossing it away. Glares come my way from the other girls, but I merely roll my eyes and cross my arms, unfazed by the attention.

"Who is that?" Nancy asks with her eyes locked on the boy.

"I have no idea," I say glancing towards Steve, who looks slightly jealous, "But I honestly don't care." I add, walking towards the building.

I reach my locker, unlocking it and grabbing my books before shutting it and preparing to head towards my first class. As I shut the locker door, however, I'm met with the new boy standing there with a smug look on his face. Our eyes meet and I take a deep breath and brace myself for whatever this interaction might hold.

"I saw your pretty face out there and knew I had to introduce myself the first chance I got," The boy says, leaning against a nearby locker while crossing his legs, "Billy Hargrove, and you are?" He says, giving me his hand to shake.

"None of your concern." I retort, attempting to move past him but instead he grabs my hips, keeping his rough hands firmly planted there.

"Feisty, I like it." Billy smirks, leaning towards me, his breath fanning over my face. "So, what's your name?" He whispers into my ear making me shudder.

"Get off me, you perv." I say, trying to push him away but his grip is too strong and I struggle against it. This causes a scene in the hallway as other students watch me squirm against Billy.

"She said, get off." I hear Steve's furious voice from behind me.

Billy surprisingly lets go of my hips, stepping back and eyeing Steve up and down, sizing him up. Steve stands his ground, despite being slightly shorter than the new boy, glaring at him defiantly as he takes a defensive stance. A tense moment passes between the two, the tension in the air thick.

"Oh? And who are you?" Billy spits out with a raised eyebrow, "The poor excuse for a boyfriend?"

"No, I have a girlfriend." Steve says quietly, breaking eye contact by looking down to his shoes.

Billy grins victoriously.

"Then what's the problem?" The boy asks, "If you already got a girl, can't I take this one?" Billy glances back at me, sending me another wink, and I scoff.

Steve's jaw visibly clenches.

"You fuck her on the side or something?" Billy asks casually.

Steve looks up at the boy, fury visible in his eyes as his hand forming a tight fist. I notice this, and not wanting to start a fight, I rush over and grab Steve's clenched hand. I gently push him back and away from the smirking boy behind me.

"Steve..." I say softly as my heart races. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, from Billy's previous comment, "Let's go."

"You better listen to your little bitch, Steve." Billy says, the smugness evident in his tone.

As I gently push Steve away, he stares at the boy with an angry glare, his body tensing as he fights his anger and urge to strike. Finally, after a long moment, Steve lets out a deep breath and we walk away together.

"Thanks." I finally say as Steve and I reach our first class, which we have together.

"Yeah." Steve breathes out, facing me, "You okay?" He asks as we walk into class and I give him a small smile.

"Yeah, I think so."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

After class, I notice Nancy and Jonathan walking down the hallway together. I increase my speed and quickly catch up to the two.

"Hey guys," I greet my friends with a warm smile.

"Hey, (Y/n)," They both say in unison, returning my smile.

As we walk down the hall, my eye catches Tina, one of our classmates, leaned up against the wall handing out bright orange flyers.

"Hey, Nancy. Hey, (Y/n)," She greets us both with a smile, handing us two flyers.

"Hey, thanks." Nancy responds.

"Thanks, Tina." I say kindly.

I look down at the paper in my hands, hesitantly. I immediately notice the little ghost holding a beer bottle in the corner.

Tina's Halloween Bash

Come and get sheet faced.

"Oh, could I get one more?" Nancy asks the girl.

"Yeah, sure." Tina smiles brightly, before handing Nancy another flyer.

"You're coming to this." Nancy says happily, handing Jonathan the extra flyer that she grabbed.

"Come and get sheet faced." Jonathan reads off the paper, giving Nancy a look, "No, I'm not." He says simply.

"I can't let you sit all alone Halloween." Nancy explains, "That's just not acceptable."

"Well, you can relax. I'm not gonna be alone." Jonathan says, and Nancy raises her eyebrows at him, "I'm going trick-or-treating with Will."

"All night?" I ask surprised. Even I'm not going with the boys.

"Yeah." Jonathan says plainly.

"No, no way." Nancy shakes her head in amusement, "You're gonna be home by 8:00, listening to the Talking Heads and reading Vonnegut or something."

"Sounds like a nice night." Jonathan smiles at the girl.

"Come on, Jonathan," I plead, "If I go, will you go?"

"See? I mean, you could go with (Y/n)," Nancy says as we approach her locker, "And if you do, who knows, you might even, like, meet someone."

Suddenly, I notice Steve sneak up behind Nancy, his sunglasses on and a sly grin resting on his face. He grabs her by the waist and lifts her off her feet, making her let out a surprised and delighted squeal. My stomach drops, and I glance over at Jonathan, whose staring at Nancy longingly.

"Oh my god. Take those stupid things off." Nancy says with a bright smile.

"I missed you." Steve grins, taking off his shades as he holds the girl in his arms.

"It's been like an hour." Nancy replies.

"Tell me about it." Steve mumbles before slowly connecting his lips with Nancy's.

I feel a pang of jealousy at the sight. I turn away quickly wrapping my arm around Jonathan's shoulder as we walk away from the couple.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jonathan asks randomly as we head to our next class.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, facing the boy, "You're the one whose in love with Nancy." I comment simply.

"How—" Jonathan starts with wide eyes.

"It's all in the eyes, my friend, it's always the eyes." I sigh, and smile softly.

"Then, the way you look as Steve, surely says something." Jonathan replies with a wide grin.

"Shut up." I laugh lightly, laughing Jonathan's shoulder, "It's not that obvious is it?" I ask worriedly.

"It so is."

I groan.

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

After school, I head towards the bike rack to unlock my bike. That's when Dustin and Lucas approach me on their own bikes, presumably coming from the middle school just up the road.

"Hey, guys," I greet them with a smile as I hop onto my bike, "What's going on?"

"We need you to come with us to the arcade." Lucas replies quickly when we start riding down the street, the school slowly drifting from view.

"It's an emergency." My brother adds and I glance at them confused.

"What? Why?" I ask, slowing my bike down to a stop.

Dustin groans.

"(Y/n), come on," My brother pleads, "What part of emergency do you not understand?"

"Jesus, when did that attitude of yours get worse?" I mumble before following him and Lucas to the arcade.

When we arrive we quickly set our bikes down and hide behind a car. Lucas has his binoculars in hand, searching for something or someone.

We wait there for a while and nothing seems to be happening.

"Still no sign?" Dustin asks Lucas whose still looking through his binoculars.

"Jack shit." Lucas replies plainly.

"Oh, damn it." Dustin sighs after checking his watch and turning towards me, "Our mom's gonna murder us."

"So go home," Lucas shrugs, bringing the binoculars down from his eyes, "I'll radio if she comes." He finishes simply.

She.

"Oh yeah, nice try." Dustin comments, irritated, "You just want me out of here so you can make your move."

"Move?" I ask glancing between the boys, "You both want to ask out the same girl?"

"That's right," Dustin says with a smile, "And she will not be able to resist these pearls." Dustin adds before purring, showing off his pearly whites. Lucas and I just give him a weird look.

"Ten o'clock." Dustin says quickly, making us turn.

"What?" Lucas asks, confused by the sudden topic change.

"Ten o'clock." He says again, pointing in the direction of the same black car that pulled into the school parking lot this morning.

Lucas quickly brings the binoculars back up to his eyes and we all watch the girl with red hair climb out of the car. She stand there, with her hand on the door, yelling at Billy through the car.

"They're arguing, they're arguing." Lucas says frantically and my brother rolls his eyes.

"Oh my god." Dustin mumbles, "I see that. I don't even know why you need those." He says louder this time.

"God. You're so stupid." My brother mumbles again, before returning his eyes to the scene in front of him.

Billy's face is full of anger and frustration as he drives away and the girl slams to door shut, sending him off with her middle finger.

I mentally applaud her.

She then rushes into the arcade and Dustin and Lucas glance at each other. Before not so stealthily walking towards to window so that we could watch the girl play video games.

"What am I missing here?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"She's new, and her name is Max." Dustin explains simply.

"She's incredible." Lucas swoons over the girl's video game abilities.

"She's..." Dustin starts with a smile.

"Mad Max."

|☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆|

As we ride our bikes home, Dustin, Lucas, and I try to contact Mike through the radio to tell him the news. So far, we've had no luck reaching him.

"Mike?" Dustin asks into the mic for what seems like the fiftieth time.

"Hello, is that you?!" We hear Mike's desperate voice through the walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, it's me, Dustin." My brother says plainly, "What're you doing on this channel, again?" Dustin asks, clearly irritated.

"I've been trying to reach you all day. We were right. Max is Mad Max." Dustin continues through the comms.

"Yeah, I'm busy." Mike says, annoyed.

"But—" That's all Dustin can get out before the line goes dead.

"What are you gonna now?" I ask the two boys.

"We stick to the plan." Dustin replies.

"What plan?" I ask, glancing back and forth between the two. Of course, like usual, I'm ignored.

"Mike's not gonna like it." Lucas says, worriedly.

"Last time I checked, our party is not a dictatorship," Dustin explains, "It's a democracy."

"What if Max says no?" Lucas asks.

"How could Max say no to these?" Dustin says before purring again.

"I wouldn't." I mumble hoping my brother doesn't hear.

He does.

"Hey, you're supposed to be on my side." Dustin says turning towards me.

I just shrug.

"I told you to stop that." Lucas says annoyed with my brother's antics as we approach our house.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Dustin says with a smile.

"Bye, Lucas." I say, sending the boy a small wave.

"Later." He says before Dustin and I turn into our driveway.

Dustin and I make our way up our driveway, and set our bikes down, starting to walk towards the door. When out of the blue, a strange noise comes from the woods around us. We glance at each other, curious expressions forming on our faces.

"Mews?" I call out, wondering if our cat is out there.

"Mews?" Dustin says, making a few kissing noises before shrugging and walking inside.

I stand there for a few more seconds, ears listening for that noise again, but it never comes. I finally head inside, relieved to find Mews curled up on her favorite spot on the couch, her soft tail twitching lightly as she sleeps. I smile, giving her tiny head a soft pat before making my way to my bedroom, reassured that everything is okay.

next chapter . masterlist . steve harrington masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

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