#anyway this was drawn on a spur of the moment

[aghhtdraws]

A voice, barely remembered, floats into his mind. You point this at something,

Usopp doodle I made with a lot on mind after reading "The Seer" by @thegreatcaptainusopp because... feels... yeah, this isn't fanart of the fic, but definitely a lot of feels after a certain chapter in the fic... Which you can read yourself! Go to the author's pinned post! I was gonna post this among other doodles cuz I like grouping sketches like this among others but felt like I wanted to post it separately for now.

Usopp is the kind of character who definitely would find different ways out of a situation, and has been given a non-lethal weapon for the most part, which is such a part of his visual and character, I feel like that was very deliberate from Oda, making the Strawhat crew seem like an altogether harmless gaggle of teens sailing the oceans at first... but I do wonder with how much the rest of the pirating world relies on guns, how things will change in the future.

Alternate/old versions below!

version 3

Version RED

v1

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: implied and/or present elements of dubcon/noncon, yandere, kidnapping, captive reader, quirkless reader, mentioned death of important character, discrimination, drawn comparisons between quirklessness and disabilities, implied bakudeku, drugging, needles, mentions of hypochondriasis, also angst

♡ manga spoilers in a way, but also not really. anyway, read at your own discretion.

♡ gn reader

Sharp crimson eyes assess the fresh scrapes and swelling ruining your soft skin. A deep scowl on his face.

“Tch—look at all this…” he grumbles disapprovingly to no one but himself—too upset with you to acknowledge you, yet treating you no different than if you were glass. “These are gonna last weeks.”

You’d tried running away again—tripped and slipped up all on your own, stumbling through hallways and tumbling down stairs in your panic, only to stop short at the locked door—bolted and padlocked beyond all sane reason.

He was disappointed with you, sure. But that’s not the reason for his current anger.

“Sit there while I get bandages,” he orders, getting up from his crouch, pointing a strict finger at you in threat. “Dare move, and it’ll be bed rest for a whole ‘nother week.”

Bakugou’s obsession with your quirkless nature started a couple of months ago…

It was okay at first—he was hardly the first person you’d met who addressed you with patronizing resolve—but he got weird about it quickly.

You worked at another hero agency he was going to be collaborating with for a big upcoming mission. You weren’t a sidekick or anything grand like that, but a simple pencil-pusher—because they need those too, you know? And you liked your job. You got to work along with some of the greatest heroes in the world, see them up close, and help them out with those things they didn’t have time for—paperwork like budget justifications and incidence reports. Yeah, you might have been somewhat of a pushover, but hey, the salary was good, the environment was lively, and even though you don’t have one yourself, you got to see some really amazing quirks in action. It was, out of what you could hope for, your dream job.

The place was in a real buzz when they heard the number one hero would be joining them for a couple of months. You were excited, too—it wasn’t often your smaller agency would undertake big missions—especially not ones that required such big hero names.

DynaMight wasn’t one to share much of anyone’s enthusiasm. He was strict and down to business and otherwise had a major pet peeve for unnecessary rabble loitering around. He’d stopped mid-meeting at the sight of you, seeing as you were obviously no fieldworker, and had gone as far as to demand you tell him your value as if your presence had been some big distracting nuisance.

Luckily, your Pro-Hero coworkers had stepped in on your behalf and told him you were a transcriber keeping track for later reference. It was probably only a slip-up that they’d added the fact that you were quirkless.

You don’t hold it against them, or well… you did a little, but you couldn’t really blame them either. Evoking the explosion hero’s rage must have made them flustered and desperate to play any sympathy card available to them in the spur of the moment.

Of course, it wasn’t their card to play, nor would you ever have played it yourself, but if the humility was worth anything, it successfully managed to calm the top hero down. Actually, he didn’t say anything for the rest of the meeting. And if you hadn’t been so busy taking notes, you would have noticed his lingering stare.

A couple more incidents had occurred in the office after that. Among others, he’d caught an incoming paper airplane your coworker had thrown your way—stepped right in out of nowhere and cremated it with a controlled explosion before it could hit you.

You’d been speechless for a moment—the entire desk area along with you—confused by his strangeness and, at least in your case, even somewhat appalled by his utter lack of consideration—in your office space, no less. Seriously, top hero or not, you can’t just barge in and incinerate stuff?

“That was an important document,” you'd informed—brow quirked—no regard to how offending him could probably make grounds to have you fired. You'd only slightly regretted it after having said it. But geez, you thought—shouldn’t the top hero have some semblance worth of self-control?

“You shouldn’t be playing around,” he'd stated—tone just as sour as the stink of burned paper tainting the air. “Someone might get hurt.”

You’d almost scoffed at him but had held your tongue until he walked away.

Back then, you’d thought it was an offhand insult directed at you and your respected coworker—that the explosion hero had just called you both unprofessional to your faces, like the biggest scumbag to ever walk in through your humble doors. But looking back at it now, you realize he probably might have meant it in its most sincere regard.

His over-protectiveness knows no limit, you’ve learned—calling it patronizing would be a joke in comparison. He treats you as if anything in proximity might make you shatter by association—like a bubble made from the most thinned-out solution of water and soap.

You’d woken up in your well-prepared pillow room shortly after your agency’s collaboration with DynaMight had ended. It didn’t take long for you to piece together his sickness after that.

At first, you’d thought it was a more severe case of benevolent discrimination. After all, most people treat you with some amount of pity after being privy to your being quirkless—treating it no less than a disability of sorts.

But Bakugou’s view of you was increasingly more unsettling than that—suffering from some type of delusion that has him fully convinced you’re utterly inept without him.

In some odd ways, it would have been better if he was just faking—if he was doing it all, treating you as an inferior for some sick sense of deriving his own sadistic pleasure. But no, you think he actually fully and whole-heartedly believes you’re a danger to yourself and that anything, if not monitored in the perfect conditions of the controlled environment he’s established for you, will result in your fatal illness or harm.

He’s a full-sworn hypochondriac concerning you—even as he himself dregs home some of the worst injuries you’ve ever seen as if it were nothing but a splinter in the rough of his worn soles. Meanwhile, he’s scared that if you leave the bed without socks on, it will give you pneumonia.

You were sure you had a couple of control freaks at the agency, but nothing measures up to Bakugou’s mania. How he dresses you is one thing—how he feeds you is another. An assortment of pills first, all vitamins and supplements, a spoon of cod liver oil, then a balanced meal reminding you of those tragic trays you’re served at the hospital—four times a day without fail—breakfast, lunch, dinner, then supper—he also keeps track of all the water he’s decided you need to drink—all things perfectly regulated according to your size and age.

Then there’s the sleep schedule with a set number of eight hours—no more and no less. Exercise is also necessary—workout plans designed and dictated by him. Nothing too severe, though—he’s afraid your quirkless constitution won’t be able to handle anything beyond thirty minutes max.

And then, of course, there’s hygiene.

You sobbed and fought hysterically the first time he’d washed you—in the tub with him after he’d stripped you naked. In fact, you’d made such a fuss he’d had to fetch a sedative.

Even in your drowsed state of complete numb delirium, you’d still heard how he’d fretted over it—the tiny needle hole he’d torn in your arm—as if that was the real violation, even as he’d thoroughly molested the entirety of your body with different cloths and sponges for no shorter than a full hour.

You’d been terrified, of course—horrified by his meticulous routines and odd nature. Yet strangely, despite his rigid rules, he won't ever get violent to enforce them.

You had expected it of him—being known for his brutality—the hero without mercy—the symbol of retribution. You know he's no stranger to leaving the battlefield bloody. But with you, he won't so much as harm a single strand of hair from your head.

He will instead bargain with you, sometimes for hours. Eat what he tells you, and you’ll watch a movie afterward. Go to sleep, and he'll escort you out to see the sun for a few hours in the morning. Let him ensure you wash correctly, and he’ll allow you to dry and dress yourself.  

And in those moments when you leave him no other option, he subdues you through the help of a needle again and never ever by manhandling you—it was as if that weren’t even a viable option. It was obvious he regarded the sedative as the uttermost last resort, always muttering on about chemicals and whatnot under his breath. It seemed he would rather avoid it at all costs—but also, that if it stood between allowing the disturbance of the schedule he felt was needed to keep you healthy and forcibly putting you to sleep, he knew without a doubt which option he considered the lesser evil.

He was certain of it all. And at some point or another… you had even begun sharing his fear of attracting some sort of illness yourself—even something so small as a common cold. But no, it wasn’t the same. Yours was not a fear of the actual disease itself but of what he might do if he caught you sneezing and coughing. You could only imagine the upgraded pill table he’d have in store for you then and what other measures he’d instill due to his excessive ideas of necessity.

And that’s why you’d tried running again even after what must have been a couple of months since the last time. The thought of his inane insanity having affected you so badly you’d started playing along was all too much a painful realization—you’d felt compelled to reject it—run away even when you knew you’d never be able to make the door open if you could even reach it.

You knew it would be in vain, and even though running headfirst into something you know isn’t going to work might be the first signs of madness—you’re still relieved to have found some remaining worth of fight still in you, even if it couldn’t amount to anything.

He comes back as quickly as he’d left, still muttering to himself, cross about the damage you’ve sustained—like you’re one of the collector’s items he keeps up on the mantle in his office—green costume and a big bright smile. You remember the exposés—they’d been rather gruesome, about the hero who’d died in battle not so long ago—a couple of years back now, give or take. He had the number-one spot before DynaMight.

The current top hero retakes his spot at your feet, sighing deeply once he starts dabbing your minor bruises with disinfectant, followed by unnecessary bandages. You’re silent as you watch him work—all so diligently as he does everything, cutting no corners and running zero lights.

His efforts, done with the very epitome of care, all disgust you.

Your lip curls. “I’m not what you think I am…”

His keen glare stops obsessing over your wounds to look up at your face—he’d already tended to the ones he could see, but he’s sure more would blossom and swell in a couple of hours. It’s beyond worrisome—but it’s his fault in any case. He should move you to a place without stairs—it’s way too dangerous for someone as accident-prone as you.

You make eye contact, and his anger fades at the sight of tears welling in your corners—softening as if he’s convinced even a harsh look will have you shatter in his hands.

“I’m quirkless. But ’m not weak.” You’re sure you preached much of the same back at the beginning of your stay, though then you’d hurdled it at him—screamed it from the top of your lungs until you’d lost your voice, unknowing that it’s a statement he’s heard a hundred times over spoken by different lips from yours.

It’s a funny thing almost… how your eyes remind him of his—so soft and yet brimming with determination—a determination that will only get you killed.

He’d put faith in those words before, believed them beyond himself, and it had cost him everything.

But even so, he can’t fault you for believing in them yourself… they’re what makes him love you, after all.

He smiles gently—a most gut-churning sight from the all-scowling man.

“I’m sure you think so.”

He doesn’t relay it with any type of harshness but pity—gross concern and better judgment—overwhelming oodles of it in his garnet eyes, weighing them down with something so awful as compassion and… you don’t exactly know… but it looks like grief.

♡ part two ♡ more thoughts on this ♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[say-al0e]

Movie Night

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie Munson for ages. When you finally ask him over to a watch a movie, you learn that your feelings are definitely requited. Warnings: General mention of Eddie's reputation/being mistreated for said reputation, protected PinV, oral (m receiving). Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader Word Count: 7.8k (it got away from me, my bad)

“I think I’m going to ask him out.”

Steve, who had been sorting through tapes on autopilot - huffing at each return that needed to be rewound, muttering under his breath each time your perch on the counter jeopardized his precarious pile of returns - lifted his head at the sound of your voice.

A quick glance around the store reminded him that it was empty, save for the two of you, Dustin Henderson, and Eddie Munson. It was obvious that you weren’t talking about Dustin and he knew you weren’t talking about him - been there, done that; be kind, don’t rewind. 

The only logical conclusion was Eddie and that pulled a grimace from Steve as he spared your one-time classmate a  weary glance.

Across the store, Eddie watched as Dustin - with flailing limbs and grinning lips - sorted through tapes in search of a film neither you nor Steve had ever heard of. He looked amused, eyes wide and bright as he listened to Dustin, and it brought a soft smile to your lips that Steve quickly erased.

“You’re going to ask out Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson?” Steve shuddered, as if he couldn’t bear to think about it - only a little exaggerated, a little dramatic in a way he often teased Dustin for - and shook his head as he transferred his pile to the cart. “Why would you do something like that?”

Though Steve had made great strides in shedding the high school persona he’d spent so long clinging to - he was no longer the Grade-A douchebag he once was - there were still moments of reflexive snobbery that made you roll your eyes. It didn’t help that there was an undercurrent of jealousy, spurred by Dustin’s newfound Eddie worship, but he seemed to realize his mistake as he held up a hand in apology.

“He’s cute.” There was a defensive bite to your tone, sharp and pointed - a derisive huff that made Steve raise a brow - as you spared the pair a glance.

Though most wouldn’t believe it, you’d always found Eddie cute. When he returned to school your junior year (his first senior year) with longer hair, wearing a leather jacket, you’d been drawn to him immediately. There was something about him that enchanted you - his hair, his smile, his big brown eyes, his theatrics, his give-no-fucks attitude - and saddled you with one of the biggest crushes you’d ever had.

Despite the years of pining, you never acted on it. Eddie never gave you much reason to believe your feelings might be requited, other than the time you caught him checking out your ass beneath your cheer skirt senior year, but things were different now. High school insecurity was gone and you no longer cared what anyone thought about your personal life.

And if Eddie truly had no interest in you, you wouldn’t be stuck in a building with him five days a week.

Steve’s face remained sour, uncertain - despite his knowledge that Eddie was almost perfectly your type - so you rolled your eyes and jostled the desk, just to make him jump. When he glared at you, you grinned.

“I mean, what’s the harm? Eddie’s always been nice to me. At worst, I pull a Henderson and replace you with Eddie.”

“Please. My life would drastically improve if you left me alone.” At your mock outrage, Steve sneered - though you could see the glimmer of amusement in his eyes, one that confirmed he was joking, though he would likely apologize for being bitchy later, anyway.

Steve shook his head as he shoved a tape, ready to be marked as a return, into your hands. “Of course Munson has always been nice to you. You’re hot.” It was said easily, as if it was the most logical explanation, a point blank huff that had him shrugging when you teasingly wagged your brows. “You know I think you’re hot. Shut up. And Munson’s weird, but he’s still a guy.”

The sharp nudge of your foot to Steve’s side drew another annoyed huff, this one accompanied by a swift swat to your foot - one that made you laugh and Steve roll his eyes.

“He’s not weird,” you defended, eyes narrowed as you scratched at the Family Video sticker covering the spine of a tape. “Just because you’re not into the same stuff doesn’t mean he’s, like, a freak or something. He’s just a guy. A cute guy, but just a guy.”

Finally, as if he’d come to terms with the fact that no work would be done until you’d decided to make your move or backed down, deflated and intending to leave well enough alone, Steve turned to lean against the counter. He folded his arms over his chest and allowed his gaze to flicker between you and Eddie.

“You’re really into him?” 

Steve knew that you were. Just as you’d given him dating advice, he’d given you the same in return and knew that you had a thing for metalheads in theory - guys with leather jackets and music collections that made his head hurt - but the last person you actually pursued was more like him. It was always the safe choice and he wanted to be certain that you knew what you were getting yourself into.

“You’re totally forgetting that I thought Billy Hargrove was gorgeous until he opened his mouth and proved himself to be a Grade-A dickhead. At least Eddie’s really a nice guy.” With a sigh, you slid from the counter - careful not to destroy Steve’s pile - and frowned as you spared Eddie another sideways glance.

A dejected sigh escaped, fell from your mouth in a puff of hot air, as you emulated Steve’s stance and folded your arms over your chest. You understood where Steve was coming from - his question was fair, one that made perfect sense - but it made your chest ache as you searched for the words to adequately describe what you’d been thinking.

“I just… I’m tired of going for the safe choice, you know? I’m tired of looking for people that won’t disappoint my parents or make judge-y assholes look twice, even if they make me miserable.” With a forced laugh, a sound that rang hollow in your own ears, you turned your full attention back to Steve. “I think you’re the only person I ever even attempted to date that I halfway liked and we both know how that ended up.” Steve made a face, one that clearly displayed his understanding, as he tilted his head to study Eddie, trying to see what you saw. “Eddie’s cute and sweet and I’m not just into him because I feel like I’m supposed to be.”

Steve understood, if only vaguely - he’d chased after people just because he felt he was supposed to, spent his entire high school career being a guy he didn’t really like because that was who he felt he was supposed to be - so he nodded. With a wave of his hand, he gestured to Eddie. “I say, if you want to ask him out, just do it. There’s no chance he’ll turn you down. He’s weird, not an idiot.”

With Steve’s encouragement, if only barely, you turned to face Eddie. There was a fire burning in the pit of your stomach, flames lapping at your already warm skin, as you considered exactly how to approach him. There was no sense in trying to beat around the bush - he was sweet, flirty and kind, but would need to be asked directly, just to avoid any misunderstanding - and you knew that you couldn’t have a conversation with him with Dustin Henderson stuck to his side.

“Steve.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Steve, who had only just turned back to his work, as he held his hands up in defeat. “What?” Warm brown eyes narrowed, focused on you in an exasperated frustration that made you laugh. “What do you want me to do? I’m not asking him out for you.”

Laughter bubbled in your throat, escaped a little louder than you intended and drew Eddie and Dustin’s attention as you imagined Steve playing the middleman for you and Eddie. With a dismissive wave of your hand, you turned your head and pouted at Steve. “Take responsibility for your child and distract Henderson. I can’t ask Eddie out with him right there.”

Steve fixed you with a wholly unimpressed stare, not at all surprised by the turn your day had taken. “Fine,” he sighed, turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. “Get him over here and I’ll distract him. But you owe me. Cover my shift on Saturday? I’ve got a date with Lisa.”

“I thought you were going out with Anna?” Steve grimaced in a way that told you there would be a deeper conversation later, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to be distracted. Instead, you waved a hand. “Whatever. Henderson is literally only here because of you. I don’t owe you shit.” You rounded the counter, brows raised as Steve pulled a face, and laughed when he rolled his eyes. “I will swap you, though. I’ll take your Saturday night if you take my Friday night.”

“Yeah, alright. Just go before I change my mind. The kid can be a total cockblock when he wants to be and I’m thinking about letting him.”

With a middle finger tossed behind you, angled in Steve’s direction - met with his laughter and, no doubt, a middle finger of his own - you started off across the store. Dustin and Eddie had dropped their conversation to furious whispers, an exchange that you couldn’t make out from your distance, but fell silent the moment your steps sounded a touch too close.

“Henderson.” At your greeting, Dustin’s attention snapped to you, eyes wide and lips parted with a sentence you’d broken. Eddie shot him a sideways look and you raised an eyebrow at the silent conversation that passed between the pair. “Steve wanted to talk to you.”

Dustin frowned, eyes darting between you and Steve - whose back remained to your group. “About what?”

Eddie stifled a laugh, wide eyes amused as he watched you huff, and you rolled your eyes as Dustin waited expectantly. “I’m not a mindreader, Henderson. Ask him yourself."

Without so much as another glance in your direction, Dustin turned his attention back to the shelf he and Eddie had spent twenty minutes dissecting. “I’m busy,” he declared, fingers reaching for another tape that he had no intention of renting.

“Un-busy yourself. Now, preferably,” you snapped, eyes narrowing as Dustin turned to look at you. Before he could respond - mutter something smart, a quip that would leave you more annoyed - Eddie laughed and nudged his shoulder.

Eddie’s eyes, wide and pretty - a glassy brown that you could lose yourself in, given the chance - met yours. There was a knowing glimmer, the understanding that you wanted him alone, though you could see a hint of confusion as he tried to imagine just what you could want. “I think you’ve got about five seconds to leave before she snaps, Henderson. Might want to make yourself scarce.”

With Eddie’s encouragement, Dustin shot you an unimpressed glower before he stomped across the floor, muttering all the while. Beneath his breath, he mumbled something about not understanding girls, a huff that Suzie was the least difficult girl in his life, and had the nerves not been threatening to choke you, you would’ve laughed.

“I love those kids,” you began, eyes following Dustin’s retreating form as he approached the counter with an exaggerated huff, “but, man.”

A soft huff of laughter, accompanied by the crinkle of leather as Eddie stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket, met your eyes. That knowing smile grew a touch brighter, something more understanding, as he nodded. “It’s his tone,” he declared, grin conspiratorial. “A little humility would go far there.”

“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been saying!”

Eddie laughed and shook his head as you tossed your arms, exasperated, before glancing at you from beneath his lashes. Despite the clear amusement still settled across his features, it was obvious that he was studying you. It made you eager to shrink beneath his gaze, unused to being the center of his attention for longer than a few moments, but you willed yourself to keep your head held high as he raised a brow.

“So, Henderson’s gone,” he pointed out, dragging each syllable out just a moment longer than necessary. “What’s up? If you’re lookin’ to buy, I don’t have anything with me. We could meet later, though, if you want.”

“No, no. That’s not -“ You cut yourself off with a shake of your head, incredulous laughter threatening to escape as you did. “I don’t want to buy. I was thinking, maybe we could watch a movie or something? I want to watch The Return of the Living Dead but my friends are all chickens. I know you like horror so, I just thought, maybe we could watch it together.”

Eddie blinked, clearly caught off guard, and stilled for what felt like an eternity. In reality, only a moment passed before his lips began to curve into a slow smile. There was mischief glittering in his eyes, a warmth you hadn’t seen from him before, and you knew in that moment that Steve was right. “Are you asking me on a date, princess?”

“I am.” Despite his best attempt at nonchalance, Eddie’s brows winged up at your blunt acknowledgement. “Are you going to say yes?”

“Fuck yeah,” he agreed, easy and quick as he laughed. “If I ever say no to a date with you, assume I’ve finally lost it. But, uh, you sure about this?”

Eddie glanced across the store - met another pair of warm brown eyes before Steve and Dustin both hurriedly busied themselves with pretending they weren’t attempting to eavesdrop - and you rolled your eyes. He was far from the first person to assume there was more going on between you and Steve than friendship, but you were quick to dispel that line of thinking.

“Completely.” You debated for a moment, curious as to whether you should dig yourself deeper, but the bright glint in Eddie’s eyes - hopeful and delighted - spurred you on. “I’ve kinda had a thing for you for a while,” you admitted, attempting to feign nonchalance as you swiped at a wayward piece of dust on a shelf. His surprise was evident, brows lifting beneath the curl of his hair, but before he could comment, you barreled on. “My parents are out of town. I have to finish my shift,” you began, glancing at the clock above the desk, “but you can come over at, like, seven?”

“Seven, yeah.” Eddie’s agreement was quick, voice a little dreamy - as if he still couldn’t quite believe you’d asked him out, that you were seriously inviting him over or that you’d admitted to having a thing for him. “That sounds good. I, uh, I’ll see you then.”

“Cool, awesome.” You nodded, grinning at him - unable to even feign nonchalance as his smile mirrored your own - before you turned back to the desk. “I’ll see you at seven, then.”

Neither Eddie nor Dustin lingered long after your conversation - the latter, no doubt, leaving with the knowledge of where Eddie would be spending his evening, thanks to his gossiping with Steve. Eddie left with a smile in your direction and you saw his flailing celebration the second he stepped out of the store, even if you dutifully pretended not to noice. 

Steve, however, made it a point to keep the joyous gesture at the forefront of your mind.

For the remaining three hours of your shift, you endured Steve’s teasing. He poked fun at your upcoming date, wondering idly if Eddie would be waiting for you when you arrived home - too excited too wait until seven - or if he’d wear something other than his leather jacket or black t-shirt. But, no matter what he said, you simply rolled your eyes and kept checking the clock every ten minutes.

The time seemed to crawl, passing so slowly that you were half-sure Dustin changed the clocks just to mess with you, but when the hour struck six, you were out the door with a parting wave and a bright ‘thanks’ to Steve for taking on closing duties alone.

There was little time for anything more than a change of clothes and a quick tidying of your home before seven rolled around, but you knew that Eddie wouldn’t really mind. Though there was something about him that made you nervous - excited, giddy, some kind of schoolgirl crush - if you really thought about it, you figured there was little you could do that would truly bother him.

And, thankfully, before you could think too much about it and send yourself spiraling, a knock sounded at the door.

At seven on the dot, you found Eddie standing at your front door. He’d changed - his leather jacket remained, but it covered a nicer shirt instead of the worn Metallica shirt he’d donned earlier in the afternoon - and you could smell the green apple of his shampoo as he grinned at you.

“Hey.” Though he attempted nonchalance with an easy smile, you could see the nervous tension in his shoulders.

Eddie had been burned - you knew that - and he was likely waiting for the catch. There was none, just a desire to get to know him better, and you wanted desperately for him to know that. So you mustered up your widest grin and held the door open for him.

“Hi. Come in.” As he stepped inside, closer than necessary - shoulder brushing yours, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body - you hoped he don’t notice the breath you took to steady yourself. “So, I got Return of the Living Dead and Sleepaway Camp. Not sure if you’ve seen either, but Return is supposed to be amazing and Sleepaway Camp is one of my favorites.”

“I haven’t seen Return yet,” he admitted as you closed the front door, “but I’ve heard good things. Sleepaway Camp, though? This whole time, I thought you were cool.” The jab was teasing, meant entirely in jest and accompanied by a grin, and earned a roll of your eyes as you gestured for him to follow you deeper into the living room.

“I don’t know where you got that idea, but I’m happy to prove you wrong.” Eddie followed, close enough that. He could reach out and touch you, and the idea made your thoughts a little fuzzy as you approached the couch. “I won’t be taking any Sleepaway Camp slander, though. It’s killer.”

Eddie paused, tilted his head and regarded you with furrowed brows and a badly concealed smile as he watched you reach for the tapes. “…was that a really bad pun?”

“I keep getting cooler, I’m aware.” Eddie laughed, unable to conceal his smile any longer, as he took a seat at one end of the couch. “I was going to say we could start with Return since neither of us have seen it but now, you’re going to suffer through Sleepaway Camp first.”

As you placed the tape into the VCR and pressed play, you could hear the shuffling of Eddie tossing his leather jacket onto the chair beside the couch. “Fine by me,” he hummed, a sly grin on his lips as you glanced at him over your shoulder. “Maybe the company will make it better.” When you fixed him with your best unimpressed look - a feat, considering the heat traveling to your cheeks - his grin grew a touch wider. “I keep getting more charming, I’m aware.”

“Wow.” The nervous energy began to dissipate with every teasing jab. You were reminded of how easily you’d always gotten along with Eddie - how easily you’d always been able to converse with him, despite the crush that made you conscious of your every move -  as you approached the couch yourself. “You know, now that you mention it, I never realized…” Warm brown eyes tracked your every move, anticipating - hoping for - a compliment as you took a seat at the opposite end. “… just how big your head was.”

The opening scene began to play, sounds of a B-horror film filling the small space, as he reached for the lamp on the side table. “Big head, big… well, you know how the saying goes,” he teased as he settled deeper into the cushions and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I do but I’m pretty sure that is totally not how it starts.”

Eddie shrugged, grin never faltering as he watched you reach for the lamp at your end of the couch. “Same thing. Creative license and all that.”

“Right. All the songwriting and campaign planning, makes sense you get a little creative.” When he tipped his head, seemingly surprised that you knew about both his songwriting and campaign planning, you rolled your eyes. “I’ve had a crush on you for, like, three years. I know things about you, Eddie. And, I mean, I spend time around Dustin Henderson, begrudgingly most of the time, but he talks about you all the time. So, I’ve picked up some things.”

There was a look of something akin to awe on his face as you shifted closer. “You’re pretty, you like horror and metal, and you like me. Why?”

It broke your heart to hear the doubt in his voice - to see the hesitance in his eyes, the residual concern that he was being left out of the joke - and you couldn’t help but sigh as you continued shifting closer to him. “Because you like horror and metal and you’re kinda cool. And, I mean, it doesn’t hurt that you’re kinda hot, too.”

“You know,” he spared the television a glance, “if you didn’t have sort of questionable taste, I’d think this was all too good to be true. But, I’m not gonna question it too much ‘cause you’re kinda cool, too. And definitely hot.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page, then. Now, are we going to just talk or are you going to allow me to educate you in good horror?”

Eddie’s laughter drowned out a brief moment of dialogue - a line you could easily recite - as he tossed an arm over the back of the couch and shook his head. “‘M sorry. Educate away, princess.”

For a few brief moments, the pair of you settled. Eddie kept his attention on the television - and even cracked a smile or two at some of your favorite moments - while you kept your attention on him. His side profile was captivating, so distracting that you didn’t notice the minutes ticking away as you studied him, and he was kind enough to refrain from pointing out your obvious staring as the film played on.

Though you could feel the rapid beat of your heart, a warmth prickling at your skin as you remained conscious of the fact that you’d finally taken the leap and had a chance to make your move, Eddie seemed unfazed by the proximity as he laughed at a particularly cheesy scene. However, when you shifted closer - body now practically touching his - you caught his sharp inhale.

It brought you a sort of comfort to realize that he was not as unaffected as he seemed, nowhere near as nonchalant about the entire encounter as he wanted you to believe, and you couldn’t help but smile as you tipped your head to look at him.

“Do I make you nervous?”

The question was teasing, a light jab, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Of course you do,” he confirmed with a nod and a laugh as he glanced at you. “You’re smart and cool and hot. You fucking terrify me.”

“Me?” You scoffed, despite yourself, and shook your head. “As if. I’m totally not scary.”

“‘M serious.” Eddie relaxed, if only slightly, and shifted his body to face you fully as his arm fell around your shoulders. “No one had their shit together in high school, but you did. You knew what you wanted and it was kind of intimidating.”

“I definitely did not have my shit together,” you confessed, laughing as you leaned into his embrace. “But I’m glad it looked like I did. Maybe I’m just a good actress.”

“If that’s acting, you should be up for an Oscar, princess.”

As Eddie laughed, a quiet sound that washed over you and filled your chest with a sticky warmth, you shook your head. “You’re the only one who gets to call me that, you know?”

Eddie hummed, a flash of confusion washing over his face, before he asked, “What, princess?”

“Mm. I think if it was anyone else, it would sound condescending. Like they’re trying to be a prick, you know. But I don’t mind it from you,” you confessed. “It’s kinda nice.”

That grin you were beginning to love - genuine, warm, happy - lifted his lips as he shifted once more and knocked your knee with his own. “I’m not a big fan of nicknames, for obvious reasons,” he confided, “but I like it when you call me Eds. It’s kinda cute.”

“God, we’re kinda gross.”

“Totally. But I’m not complaining.” Eddie removed his arm from around your shoulders and brought his hand to cup your cheek. He paused for a moment, studying your face, before he asked, “Does it make me a total loser if I’ve thought about kissing you for, like, ever?”

For a split second, you wondered if he could hear the beat of your heart over the screaming emanating from the television - and if you’d heard him properly over the noise. But when you met his expectant gaze, wide brown eyes waiting for you response, you realized you didn’t really care.

“Only if you keep thinking about it instead of actually doing it.”

With your permission, Eddie leaned in and tentatively pressed his mouth to yours. The kiss was careful, hesitant, but you could feel the underlying excitement as the warmth of his palm bled into your skin. Without thinking, you breathed a contented sigh as you lifted your hands to his hair and tugged him impossibly closer.

The noise of the film continued in the background, unnoticed by either of you as Eddie took the initiative to deepen the kiss. He swiped his tongue along the seam of your lips, urging you to open up for him, and you gave in without a moment of hesitation.

As many times as you’d thought about this moment - as many times as you’d pictured yourself in this situation, at the center of Eddie’s attention, with his hands and mouth on you - the reality was infinitely better than any dream. Eddie’s hands were calloused, rough from years of guitar and, now, his work at Thatcher’s, but his touch was featherlight as his hands began to wander.

Gentle fingers brushed along your jaw, dragged down the side of your neck and shoulders, inching lower until they found your waist. Your fingers tangled in his curls, indulging in your long hidden desire to play with his hair, as Eddie pulled away to allow you both a moment to breathe.

“We’re missing the totally not awful movie,” he pointed out, breath fanning over your neck as he dipped his head to nose at your jaw.

“We can rewind it later.” 

Eddie laughed, his smirk evident as he nipped at the hinge of your jaw before lapping at the skin to soothe the brief sting. “Thought you wanted to educate me, princess,” he teased.

Warm hands began to wander, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your t-shirt to brush the heated skin of your waist, as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. Your own hands began to wander as well, dipping to his chest as he latched onto a patch of skin just beneath your ear. 

“Want to kiss you more.”

He hummed, pleased with your answer, as he tipped his head to meet your gaze. Soft brown eyes were blown black and there was a hunger in them that you’d never been privileged enough to see. Now, the sheer weight of his desire hit you all at once as he grinned. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, then.”

Before you could huff, playfully pout at his taunting callback, Eddie reclaimed your lips. This kiss was more heated than the first, hesitance now gone as you realized you both wanted the same thing, and it completely obliterated any remaining thoughts other than how good it felt to have him pressed so close.

Though his hands began to wander, touch fleeting as it dragged across your hips and thighs, over your middle and back to your arms, he remained respectful. As eager as you both were, his hands only fell to your chest when you lifted them there yourself.

Eddie groaned into the kiss the moment you placed his hands, fingers experimentally flexing as you shifted impossibly closer.

“You can touch me however you want,” you allowed, word exhaled against his mouth as you separated just an inch to breathe. “I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t want something.”

“Fuck.” His forehead fell to yours, curls beginning to stick to his forehead with the lightly beading sweat, as he laughed. “Ditto. I’m all yours, princess. Take whatever you want.”

“That’s a dangerous offer.” The hand you’d left on his bicep, fingers tracing the stark black ink of his tattoo, began to wander then. Slowly, you raked the tips of your fingers down his chest - not bothering to hide your grin as he inhaled sharply at the sensation of your fingers raking over his lower stomach - and stopped at the buckle of his belt. “What if I want everything?”

“It’s yours. Been yours,” he admitted, tongue darting out to wet his lips as his gaze met yours once more. “Fuck, you’re all I want, princess. ‘ve been crazy about you for a while.”

“Keep talking like that and you might make me fall in love, Eds.” It was too late - you were already halfway there - and you both knew it. Still, Eddie laughed dutifully as his gaze fell to watch your hands tug at his belt buckle.

“Give me a few hours. I’ve been there, time for you to join me.”

The admission was half-teasing, accompanied by a breathless laugh as you worried with the warm metal beneath your fingers, but it still filled your stomach with a storm of butterflies. The time you’d spent pining over Eddie could’ve been spent lying beneath him, going on dates with him, enjoying time with him, and you were determined to make up for lost time as you tipped your head and pressed your lips to his once more.

“I’m closer than you think.”

Before he could consider your admission too closely, you pulled away and slipped off the couch to kneel between his spread thighs. Those brown eyes went wide, big and disbelieving, as you unbuckled his belt.

“Whoa. Fuck, wait.” Eddie swallowed harshly as he swept his hair from his eyes and glanced down at you. A gentle hand fell to your cheek, urging you to meet his eyes as he blinked away the lust-fueled stupor. “You don’t have to… I mean, I don’t expect you to -“

“Eddie.” He paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips once more, as you cut him off mid-sentence. “You can say no. But I want to. Is that okay?”

Eddie was far from a blushing virgin. You’d heard the rumors, tales of just how talented he was - had even heard the stories of a few trysts from the man himself - but his hesitation gave you pause. However, before you could pull away, he assured you.

“Yeah! Yeah, that’d be - yeah. I’ve had sex. I’ve just… No one has ever… It’s usually a quick fuck and then back to whoever they’re supposed to be dating,” he confessed, pink tinging his cheeks as he hurried to explain himself. “Blowjobs aren’t usually the priority.”

Though you knew Eddie fairly well, enough to have been half-in love with him for a while, you knew his reputation. But to know that others had taken advantage of his desire to love and be loved in return, it made your chest ache. Despite his reputation for being a freak - for being scary, intimidating - you knew that he was a sweetheart who deserved more than he’d been given. And you wanted to show him that you were apply to make him a priority.

“I’d love to be the first, if you’ll let me.”

“Fuck.” Eddie shuddered, his chest heaved with a sharp breath, as he raked a hand through his hair and nodded. “Yeah,” he allowed, “yeah, please.”

Eddie leaned back into the cushions then, allowing himself to relax into the plush of the couch as you popped the button on his jeans. It was obvious just how much he was enjoying the attention - plain to see from the bulge in his jeans and the pink staining his cheeks and neck - and you couldn’t help but smile as you took in the sight of him.

“You’re so pretty, Eddie.” It was reverent, a breathless observation as you tugged at the denim and studied the slope of his nose - the curve of his jaw, the wild tangle of his hair - and you meant it wholeheartedly.

“Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere, princess.” He lifted his hips, allowing you to tug at the denim just enough to expose his boxers - cheeks flushing darker when you bit back a smile at the sight of the blue and white checkerboard pattern.

“Not flattery, just honesty. You’re distracting,” you admitted, glancing up at him from beneath your lashes as you began to palm at the bulge in his boxers. “But I wanna see how much prettier you are when you’re falling apart.”

“You’re killing me. Fuck.”

Deciding that he’d had enough teasing, you gave in to the desire and tugged at the final layer of material separating you. The moment you exposed him to the air, you both gasped - him at the sensation of cool air hitting blistering warm skin, you at the sight of him.

Without thought, you spit into your palm before allowing yourself to reach out and experimentally stroke his cock. Eddie groaned at the feeling, his head tipping back and his eyes fluttering shut, and you felt a surge of warmth wash over you. Each noise he made ran straight to your core, fanned the flames of the fire already beginning to burn out of control, and you shifted to allow yourself some relief before leaning in to lap at the bead of precum already beginning to form.

Another noise, this one louder, met your ears as a warm hand fell to your head. He was careful not to push, careful not to attempt to take control, as he sought to anchor himself to the moment but you wouldn’t have minded either way. And as you traced the vein running along the underside of his cock before taking the head between your lips, you could hear him swear beneath his breath.

Though you were tempted to prolong the pleasure, witness him falling apart piece by piece as you slowly worked him up, you were too worked up yourself to do more than take as much of him a you could into your mouth. You knew there would be time to experiment later - time to push yourself to take him all - so you focused on giving him the best experience you could in that moment.

It only took a few moments for his thighs to begin to flex beneath your touch, for his chest to heave and his noises of pleasure to grow louder. And though you could see the hint of embarrassment tinging his cheeks at beginning to fall apart so soon, you felt a surge of pride at your ability to rile him up so completely.

But before you could lift your head and urge him to come, assure him that it was alright, he spoke. “Fuck, princess. I don’t wanna come in your mouth.” Eddie urged you up, then, away from his cock as he attempted to catch his breath and pull himself back from the brink. “Wanna come with you. Can I fuck you?”

The blunt question warmed you from within, stole your breath and had you keening as you nodded eagerly. “Please.” A moan escaped your lips as he reached out to cup your cheek and pull you into a messy kiss that was an eager clash of tongue and teeth.

For a moment, you both lost yourselves in the kiss. Eddie groaned as your hand remained on his cock, fingers stroking slowly as you waited for him to gather himself, only for him to swear as he broke the kiss. “Shit. Fuck, I don’t have a condom,” he lamented, eyes falling shut. “Sorry. Wan’t exactly expecting,” he waved a hand, gesturing to your hand, “this.”

Luckily for the both of you, you still had a stash of condoms - given to you by Steve as a joke the last time you considered asking Eddie out - in your nightstand. “I do,” you revealed, giggling as his shoulders relaxed. “C’mon, pretty boy.”

As you stood, offering Eddie your hand, he groaned once more. “Is it your goal to kill me, princess? Because I think you might actually kill me.”

“What a way to go, though, hm?”

Eddie stood, quickly tugged his jeans up but left them unbuttoned, and followed close behind as you led him up the stairs, his hand warm in yours. You could feel his body heat radiating, could hear his shallow breathing as he attempted to even it out, and you were secretly satisfied to know that you had such an impact on him.

Even more, however, you were thrilled to know that you were only moments away from getting what you wanted.

With quick steps, you tugged him down the hall and into your bedroom, pulling the door shut behind you as you entered. Once inside, Eddie paused for a moment to take in the sight.

“You know, I was expecting a Tom Cruise poster,” he teased, laughing only slightly when instead he saw Nikki Sixx.

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for pretty, dark-haired metalheads.”

A smirk quirked his mouth as he tugged you close, hands falling to your waist as he dipped his head to capture your lips. The kiss was eager, uncoordinated and messy but breathtaking as his hands began to wander. Deft fingers flitted to the button of your jeans, and after a moment of hesitation, popped them open.

“If you want to stop, we can,” he reminded you, fingers ghosting along the sliver of skin just above your jeans. “We totally don’t have to do this.”

“You’re incredibly sweet, Eds.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, hands drifting to his hair to tug at the curls as you met his gaze. “But if you don’t fuck me, I might cry and I don’t feel like crying tonight.”

Eddie grinned, glad you were as eager as he was, and hummed as his fingers began to drift lower. “Can’t have you crying on my watch, princess. ‘Less they’re good, ‘I totally fucked you stupid’ tears.”

“I mean, if you’re up to the challenge, then by all means.”

Though it might’ve been the wrong thing to say, a taunt you would later regret, he took the challenge for what it was worth. There was a determined glint in his eyes, a burning desire that tied your stomach in knots, and it was burned into your field of view as he pressed his mouth to yours once more.

For a moment, you weren’t certain which sensation to focus on as Eddie’s tongue licked at the seam of your lips and his fingers ghosted over the cotton of your panties. However, he drew your full, undivided attention as he nudged the fabric aside and swiped his fingers through your slick folds.

A hum of encouragement met your ears as Eddie coated his fingers in your slick, teasing for just a moment before he found the sensitive bundle of nerves. With his lips a fraction of an inch from yours, he asked, “This all from blowing me?”

It was incredulous, almost as if he couldn’t believe it, but you hummed. “Thought about it for ages. Reality was better.”

“Don’t think I’ll last long enough to return the favor right now,” he confessed, breath fanning across your lips as he rubbed lazy circles over the bundle of nerves, “but I’ve gotta taste you before tonight’s over. Got myself off so many times thinking about it, ‘bout you.”

Eddie grinned at the moan you released, at the way you sagged against him - unable to hold yourself entirely upright with the promise of him between your thighs, the thought of him touching himself to that image. “You sure you’re not trying to kill me?”

“What a way to go.” He lingered, just for a second, before Eddie pulled away and shushed your whine with a press of his mouth to yours. “I’m gonna come in my jeans if I don’t get inside you soon, princess. Promise to take my time with you later. Gonna give you everything you deserve, treat you right.”

“Ditto.” He laughed, amused and flattered in equal measure, as he began to tug at his clothes. Encouraged, you followed suit and, soon enough, a pile of garments littered your bedroom floor.

However, neither of you dwelled on the sight for long as you headed for the bed, stopping only to retrieve a foil packet from the bedside drawer.

Every dream encounter you shared with Eddie varied - sometimes he was soft, other times he manhandled you exactly the way you wanted; sometimes he was quick, others he teased for hours - but nothing lived up to the reality of having him climb into your bed after you.

This encounter would be quick and dirty, a desperate search for relief, but you knew that it was only the first of many. And, encouraged by the future that now seemed so clear, you reached out and tugged him into you.

Lithe arms braced themselves at either side of your head, tattoos stark against his pale skin, and you hummed as you decided you would someday spend as much time as he’d allow you committing them to memory. But that could wait. For now, you simply savored the weight of him above you and tangled your fingers in his hair as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Haven’t even gotten inside and I already can’t wait to do this again,” he confessed, dipping his head to nip at the hinge of your jaw. “And again. And again. I’m already ruined for you, princess.”

Before you could confess the same sentiment, admit your utter ruin at his hands, he pressed his hips forward and began to sink into you. The stretch was bearable, a tinge of discomfort completely overshadowed by the warmth of his skin against yours - the weight of his body pressed to yours, the nip of his teeth at your jaw - and you inhaled sharply at the feeling.

Eddie stilled for a few long moments, hands stroking at whatever skin he could reach - your hips, your thighs, your stomach - as he breathed reverent nonsense. The words blurred, compliments and awed whispers of how good you felt, but it paled in comparison to the moan he released when you yanked at his curls and begged for him to finally move.

The pace he set was blistering, deep and quick and perfect, and you marveled at how right his touch felt. Every snap of his hips, every brush of his mouth against your skin, every whispered word of praise; it felt as if each was a puzzle piece, suddenly falling into place.

Though he took great care to ensure your pleasure, he made no attempt to treat you like a doll, like something that might shatter beneath his touch, and you were grateful for the heavy press of his hands to your skin as he pawed at your thighs. Almost immediately, you understood one another - both quickly fell into step beside one another - and you felt the flames he’d been fanning begin to grow out of control.

Heat engulfed you, body burning with every swipe of his fingers and snap of his hips, and it grew harder to draw your breath as his fingers found your clit. Eddie nipped at your jaw, breath fanning over your skin and sending goosebumps erupting, as he encouraged, “Come for me, princess. Wanna feel you.”

With anyone else, you might’ve been embarrassed at how quickly you barreled toward your release - at how eager you were to give in and come just because he asked - but this was Eddie. Anything he wanted, you would at least consider, and your body knew it well. So with a few swipes of his fingers and another snap of his hips, you barreled over the edge with a cry of his name.

Almost immediately, as if he’d been waiting for you, he followed suit. One, two, three snaps of his hips before he buried his face in the crook of your neck and came with a moan that you knew would play on a loop in your happiest of dreams. 

For a few moments after, you both lay still - Eddie with his head buried in the crook of your neck, hands still stroking your heated skin; you, with your eyes shut and lips parted as you caught your breath, fingers raking through his curls. It was blissful, a moment you’d dreamt about, but the dream was interrupted by reality as discomfort began to set in.

When you began to squirm, Eddie quickly pulled away - pulled out and cooed when you whimpered at the loss - and tossed the used condom into the bin beside your bed before returning to lay beside you. He pulled you close, wrapped his arms around you and tugged you into his chest, and you both lay in silence for a long moment before he spoke.

“So, you wanna actually watch those movies now?”

With a laugh, you tipped your head and buried your face in the crook of his neck. “Mm. Give me a minute. Gotta return to the land of the living first.”

“Take your time, princess. When you do, though, maybe you can return as my girlfriend.”

Eddie could almost certainly feel your smile, grin bright and happy as you hummed against his skin. “Yeah,” you agreed easily, not bothering to hide the giddiness you felt, “I think that can be arranged.”

Though it wasn’t how you pictured your evening, you knew it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. And, while Steve would be annoying, you couldn’t wait to venture back into the world with your boyfriend by your side.

__________________________________________________

Author's Note: Take this away from me. I've been working on this forever but got stuck on the smut.

Taglist: @x-avantgarde-x, @thisisparadisemylove, @eddiesprincess, @slvdsjjk, @munsonlover, @tasmbestspdrman, @urofficial-cyberslut, @jxngwhore, @hopelesslylosttheway, @meaganjm, @lazuli-leenabride, @deiondraaa, @piscesmesss, @glowyskiess, @kiszkathecook, @missryerye, @solarrexplosion, @ofherscarlettwitchways, @lovedandleft-haunted, @trappedinlimbo15, @sweetiekitten, @bookfrog242, @gwendolynmary, @sage-bun, @zealouslibrariesparadiselight, @castiels-lilass, @tojis-little-brat, @emmah787, @theworldsendxx, @asuperconfusedgirl, @flores-and-sunshine, @passi0np1t, @laurathefahrradsattel, @hellf1reclub, @slut4yourmom, @niko-04, @hannirose-loves-you, @mrs-eddie-munson, @screambabe, @vllowe, @ryswritingrecord, @cheriebondy, @ryswritingrecord, @thewitchofthewilds140, @bootlegmothman420, @maruushkka, @honeymoonpython, @keenesbeans, @jess-bonn, @sammysinger04, @khaoticken21, @denkis-slut, @spiderman-berries, @lotus-es, @amortiff, @stardust-galaxies, @ure-a-sunflower, @1-800-ch3rry, @ladybeewritethings, @ynbutbetter, @hunnybunimdun, @breathinfive, @s-u-t, @s4ntacarlal0stk1d, @rae-iin, @pennamesgame, @stefans-wife, @voldieshorts, @frankie-mercury, @bbymochi1, @serendiipty, @saturnsworld01, @eddiemunson1sstuff​, @valthevalkyrie-main​, @crying-caro​, @inglourious-imagines​

[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part Two

Part One

Eddie stares down at the plastic doodad. It proudly declares the word ‘pregnant’ on the little screen, cheerily oblivious to the fact that it's just ruined Eddie’s whole fucking life. It’s a word as well, the actual fucking word, ‘pregnant’ shown oh so confidently on the little screen. Eddie’s done a test before, one time when he had a scare as a teenager, that had been the sort that showed one line or two.

One lines for not, two for...are. Two would have looked like prison bars, which would have been ironic given being saddled with a pup is probably pretty equivalent to 25 to life.

Anyway. Eddie shakes it. Looks again. Throws the fucking thing in the bin.

Well fuck.

Eddie contemplates, very very briefly, getting rid of it. His mind and body recoil from that thought the same way it would from, like, rotted tuna. Or someone else's puke. Or like...salad.

Eddie’s Omega’s got a lot of needs and no Alpha willing to fill them. Eddie gets by, fobbing his Omega off with with a couple of short term friends with benefits arrangements and the odd one night stand. Mostly his Omega can’t tell the difference between having an Alpha and having any Alpha, so he makes do. It scratches the itch.

Unfortunately, that means this pup could have been fathered by any one of three dudes, and Eddie doesn’t have a fucking clue which of them it would be. Eddie would really rather not it be Alpha A, Alpha B is a piece of work with a big dick, and what's behind door number three would be potentially catastrophic.

Anyway. Eddie makes a decision at two am in his apartment bathroom, and it starts with two text messages, an email, and a phone call.

“Thanks for doing this so on the spur man,” Eddie tells his landlord as he hands over the keys. Ex landlord. It was only a room in a shared place. Had to share the bathroom on this floor with two other dudes, but, meh. It had been perfect for what Eddie needed, and more importantly, within Eddie’s budget.

His whole life is sitting in the back of his van, barely filling a third of the back. Which is ideal really, made clearing out quick and easy and Eddie’s uncertain about weather or not he should be doing any heavy lifting right now.

He makes three stop offs before he leaves for good, shifting the very last of his product at discount prices. He mournfully throws in his last two boxes of cigs with the last deal; going cold turkey is going to be the opposite of fun, but Eddie’s in it to win it, and he’s going to try his best as of right now.

Wayne already has the door open when Eddie hops out of his van, beer in hand, eyebrow raised, “heya old man.”

When Wayne sees Eddie dragging bags out, he lifts the brim of his cap, puts it back again, and heads inside. Eddie sees him move a couple of things out of Eddie’s old room, and although it’s empty and the bed is stripped to nothing, it’s untouched, “how long you back for?” Wayne asks him, offering a beer.

Eddie looks at the offered bottle, dripping condensation, and very pointedly doesn’t take it “so, about that.”

There’s a long drawn out moment, and Eddie’s sees the realization dawn, “oh Ed.”

“You like kids!”

Wayne sighs, pulls Eddie into a hug, “I just hope they sleep better’n you did. Don’t think I can go through that again.”

Eddie snorts a laugh into Wayne’s shoulder, all relieved. He hadn't doubted for a second that Wayne would back his play, Wayne's always been unshakably team Eddie, but to hear it said in no uncertain terms is still a huge weight lifted.

Eddie’s got a slightest curve of a bump, small enough that it’s not nearly noticeable yet, especially with Eddie’s usual wardrobe. To go along with his bump, he’s got a scan booked at the Omega Health place, an insatiable craving for garlic mushrooms, and a job.

An actual honest job. Alright, a temp job, because he’s pregnant and no one in their right mind is going to hire a pregnant Omega for a full time permanent gig. So he is, conveniently enough, covering maternity leave for a beta girl at the record store. But that doesn’t matter right now, the moons aligned, and Eddie jumped at the opportunity. He’s going to have a secure pay check for the next seven or so months, and right this second, that’s what counts.

He can’t drink. He can’t smoke. He can’t do drugs and he’s most certainly not going to party. Eddie does the next best thing he can think of; he goes to the library. This is his reward now, his fun, his safe space; he’s going to reward himself with a good book. A good free book.

Turns out registering himself for a library card is a ten minute thing, and then he’s done, bit of plastic in hand, he wonders the shelves looking for the fantasy section. He rounds the corner into the main room only to find a dude reading and signing along to a bunch of little kids. He has the book propped up on a thing to keep his hands free and the pages open so the kids can see.

He’s encouraging them to sign along with a bunch of the words.

He has good hair...like, really good hair. There’s something familiar about the guy that Eddie can't place...until he does.

Holy fucking shit. That’s King Steve.

And he’s in a library...wearing fucking gold rimmed spectacles and a sweater vest.

And he’s hot. He’s still hot. He laughs at something and leans forward to help a toddler with the placement of her chubby little fingers and Eddie’s ovaries fucking explode.

He walks away. For self preservation he walks away. He forgets what he just saw because there was no way it was real. He’s been going through a dry spell, hasn’t got laid since he moved back to Hawkins and now he’s seeing mirages of his high school crush, that’s all.

That’s all it can be.

Until Eddie goes to the fancy scanner machine to check out his little pile of four paperback fantasy books and a deep Alpha voice is asking if he needs anything and he’s, like, right there. And he smells of library and Alpha and whatever nice thing he washes his fucking sweater vests in.

Jesus.

“No,” Eddie squeaks, “I’m okay.”

“Eddie?” Steve frowns at him, tilting his read and looking over the top of his glasses in a way that should be fucking criminal, “Eddie Munson right? I thought you moved away?”

“I have. Did. I mean, I did do that. Previously. Back now. Clearly.” Shut up shut up shut up and Steve can probably smell his embarrassment because he’s standing closely enough to clearly scent Eddie and Steve’s senses must be absolutely pinpoint because his eyes drop to Eddie’s stomach, then spring up to his neck. He frowns, like, the tiniest bit.

Eddie’s pregnant, and unmated, and Steve’s clocked that in about four seconds flat which, great. Humiliation complete.

But Steve’s face clears as quick as it had clouded, the whole thing passing so fast Eddie’s now not even sure he saw it, ��so it’d been cool to catch up, you wanna wait a minute, I’m just about to have lunch?”

“Errr…I mean. I wouldn't want to impose or anything-”

“Steve!” And holy shit, if Steve is the ghost of Christmas past or some shit, the second ghost just rocked up in the form of Robin fucking Buckley of all people. Eddie doesn't even understand why they’re even friends, Steve was a topnotch jock and a total fucking dickwad, and Buckley was a band nerd.

This makes less sense than Steve’s sweater vest.

“Yeah, come on Eddie, lets go sit outside,” Eddie gets tugged along in their wake, somehow, and ends up sitting on a bench outside in the sun.

Robin had a bag of take out in her hand which she gives to Steve, and he takes out a carton of something that instantly makes Eddie’s mouth water, Eddie looks back up in time to catch Steve widening his eyes at Robin, tilting his head off to the side sharply in silent gesture for her to fuck off over there. She signs something, real quick. Steve nods.

Eddie doesn’t know a single lick of sign language, but he's pretty sure that even if he did, what happened was so fast he would have missed it anyway, “so, Eddie, great to see you, but I, shit, pretty sure I’ve left the...stove on.”

Eddie frowns at the take out and back to Robin but before he can point out what a steaming pile of bullshit that is, she’s already power walking off and shouting, “byyyyeeeeeeeeeeeee.”

“I, ah, got garlic mushrooms and broccoli and some stirfry-”

It’s too late for Eddie. He’s done. Stick a fork in him. He has no idea what’s happening here but he zones in on the garlic mushroom part of that like a heat seeking missile. A secondary part of his brain is screaming loudly that the Alpha has provided, the Alpha wants to share his food with Eddie. Alpha Alpha Alpha.

Eddie takes the container and the bamboo spork thing Steve hands him, “sorry, I never get chopsticks, no fucking clue how to use them.”

“I can show you,” Eddie says, without thinking it through or registering the implication or stopping to swallow, which means he just spoke with his mouth full of food.

“I’d like that,” Steve tells him, “when can I take you out for dinner?”

Which, Eddie’s brain does stall out there. Because. Well. Lots of things. But he was pretty certain Steve had clocked his specific circumstances earlier, but now he’s not so sure, “I’m pupped,” his mouth supplies without his permission, so he shoves a whole thing of broccoli in there to try and stop it happening again.

Steve hums, eating his beef thing very neatly, “no bite though,” he points out, and Eddie makes an agreeable noise, “maybe we can fix that,” Eddie nearly chokes.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Foxes II

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: You draw Jenni

One of Jenni's favourite things is a slow day off after a match. She doesn't have to go out. She doesn't have to run or kick a ball no matter how much she loves it.

She can just sit, stretched out on the sofa, typing away at her laptop. You sit squished between her and the back of the sofa, down by her legs where you can rub your fingers on her fuzzy pyjama bottoms.

They match yours and you like that.

They're fluffy and that feels good under your fingers.

Jenni looks down at you fondly. She hadn't gotten you dressed today, content to let you just chill for the day in your favourite pyjamas.

You have major bedhead too but you don't really like the feeling of the hairbrush so Jenni's glad that she had the foresight to braid up your hair last night so it's not a tangled mess and she can go without dragging a brush through it today.

"What do you want for lunch today, Osita?"

You look up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. "Panini," You say.

That's your go-to when Jenni orders in. There's a café nearby that delivers and you've been obsessed with the paninis since you first went in. The workers just adore you there and whenever you go, you come out with a perfect panini and a new fox sticker to add to your collection.

"Mhm," Jenni says," Your normal?"

You nod. Your fox ear headband slips briefly over your eyes and you push it back so you can see Jenni.

"Alright, Osita. Let me up so I can call."

You pout a little when she asks that because she's comfortable and you just want to lay on Mami forever. But you let her up anyway because your normal panini is the best panini in the world and it's the only thing you want to eat today.

You watch Mami go to order the food and you huff, moving to the floor. Your sketchpad and pencils lay there abandoned and you pick them up. Usually, you enjoy drawing the same fox over and over again but today you do something different.

Your pencil scrawls over the paper until a Mami fox and a baby fox appear on your page. You tear it out of your book, slamming your eyes shut at the horrific sound it makes.

It bounces in your ears as you wander over to Mami. She's still on the phone because she's well known at the café and the elderly couple that run it like to talk.

You tug on her pyjama bottoms and she looks down.

"One second...Osita, is something wrong? What's up?"

You hand here your drawing. "Us," You grunt before turning on your heels to return to the sofa where some of your fox toys wait for you.

Jenni watches you go, returning to her conversation before looking down at the picture you've given her. You don't like sharing your work, mainly because after the third time of the same picture, people get bored.

The picture you've drawn this time is different.

It's still clearly of foxes because Jenni knows you'd rather do nothing than draw anything other than a fox. There's a big fox sitting down with a little baby fox next to it. It's a line drawing and not coloured in at all which is a little different than normal but Jenni thinks is sweet.

Your spelling is coming along well though because you've scrawled 'Mami' and 'Me' under each of them so Jenni knows who they are.

She doesn't want to fold up this picture because it's special so she gently tucks it between the pages of a magazine.

The picture circles through Jenni's mind through the next few weeks until she decides on a plan one random evening as you sleep on her chest like you used to do as a baby.

It's a bit spur of the moment but once it's done Jenni can't help but think it's perfect.

"Mami," You say as your babysitter leaves," You're back."

"I am," She says," Can I show you something?"

You nod.

There's very little space on Jenni's arms that isn't heavily tattooed but there's a patch on her inner arm that's just big enough for a Mami fox and a baby fox.

"My drawing..." Tentatively, you reach out to trace your fingers across the tattoo, giggling when Jenni flutters kisses over your face.

At first, she thinks that's it. You're not the biggest fan of touch even from her, at least not skin-to-skin so Jenni's a little surprised when you wiggle up to her chest the next day off.

Most of the time, you stick lower by her legs because you like the feeling of her pyjamas against your face but Jenni welcomes you up higher with her as you try to find a comfortable position.

Your head rests against her collarbone as she types on her laptop, occasionally tilting her head down to give you a kiss.

Your hand reaches out slowly to touch Jenni's skin. You freeze but Jenni doesn't react in any way. A singular finger gently traces over her new tattoo.

Mami put your drawing on her body. Tattoos are forever, you know that and Mami put your drawing on her body forever.

That makes you feel nice.

Of course, the kisses she gives you whenever you complete a full trace of the tattoo is nice too.

[connorsnothereeither]

if ulysses and icarus interacted after it was kind of made known they were "the bad guy" (but before the finale) - how do you think that would've gone-?

That’s a good question. The real answer is I don’t know and this is very spitballed and spur of the moment, but I think it depends on when they would interact.

Prior to Ulysses finding a wounded Bruin, I think they would have been more empathetic for a very long time. He would have gone with the approach of “I know what it’s like to be taking these orders and feeling like you need to, but you can see this is wrong, we can help”. Trying to talk Icarus down, because he’s been in that position. He’s followed orders and been the tool wielded by evil people and he knows Icarus can be talked down from that point and come back from that, because he was.

But I think finding Bruin was very much a turning point for Ulysses. Because that’s the point where Icarus stops being just a weapon wielded by Fable, an abstract threat, and begins being a proactive threat in their own right. That’s when Icarus becomes not just someone attacking because they have the chance, or because they’re told to, but someone pre-meditatively planning and executing the murder of innocent parties on their own, because they want to. Because they want to make Fable happy. And the people Ulysses cares about are the direct targets of those attacks. Aax is a theoretical target of those attacks, in Ulysses mind, given she’s part god. And I think, after that point, if Ulysses ran into Icarus, he would be in fight or flight mode. He would be weapons drawn, trying to run, ready to kill if he has to the second he sees them to keep Icarus away from others. Ulysses would have gotten his ass absolutely handed to him, and probably even would have been killed if he tried to fight, but he would have fought anyway if he had to with the mindset of “this person is actively trying to kill everyone I care about” and being past the point of trying to peacefully talk them down

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[daydream-cement]

i just need lots of miranda smut

Breakfast (NSFW)

Miranda Hilmarson x Reader

Some good old cunnilingus from sweet Miranda <3

Author’s Note: Short little fic but I needed Mir giving god-like head :)

“What do you think you’re doing?” You smirked, gazing down at the determined blonde. You knew damn well what Miranda was up to, but you liked to tease anyway. 

Miranda has been feeling pent up all morning. Waking up with your body pressed up against hers was enough to drive a woman to madness, but watching you make breakfast in a tiny, sheer nightgown had her losing her mind. It started with kisses over your shoulders and hands pushing up the nightgown to touch the skin under your navel. Now she pulled you away from her breakfast and pushed you up on the countertop, choosing her own desires over your hunger, “I’m having breakfast.” 

“If you must…” You were happy to indulge Miranda’s urges, laying back on the counter to show you were ready to receive the many orgasms Miranda was destined to give you. 

It started slow. She bit, licked, and sucked her way across your inner thighs. The constable needed her mouth on your skin like she needed the air she breathed. You tried maintaining level breathing, but Miranda knew just where you liked every little touch. Your back rose up off the countertop, your shoulders painfully pressed to the granite countertop. You just needed Miranda to touch you.

“Stop the teasing,” You hissed.

Miranda did as she was told, never one to disobey her love. Her tongue pressed against the fabric of your panties, dragging up the length of your aching sex before finally pulling your panties to the side. 

The manner in which Miranda feverishly ate you shocked you each time. Her tongue lapped through your folds, not quite stimulating your clit yet. That you would have to wait for. Miranda needed to savor the way you tasted, much like it was her last meal on earth. The constable’s mind tended to go blank in these moments, only spurred on by your moaning and writhing. 

Your eyelids began to flutter when your first orgasm washed over you, but Miranda’s pacing wasn’t any slower. The blonde’s jaw ached but her pain was secondary to the task at hand. Miranda needed you to feel her love and passion. She needed you to keep cumming until you were begging for Miranda to stop.

Miranda’s hands rested on your abdomen, keeping your hips from bucking too wildly. Your moans grew louder and louder, Miranda was entranced by your voice as always. She picked up the pace of her tongue swirling around your clit causing your chest to convulse from another orgasm crashing down upon you.

Miranda wasn’t about to stop there. No. Not when your cum hit her tongue. That was the reward she was looking for. How better than to thank you for the treat than with more orgasms?

——-

You were sweating. This was more of a workout than you bargained for. Four orgasms. Was it four? You had lost count. You could feel every cell of her body buzzing and needed a break. 

Miranda was unrelenting. Her jaw was on fire, but she was mindlessly fingering you, her tongue lapping up anything you had to offer. Every few seconds she would expertly swipe her tongue over your clit, sending a jolt through your body. Your breath shuddered with each gasp and your cunt flexed at the overstimulating sensations. 

You attempted to roll your hips away first, but Miranda’s grasp on you was ironclad. Next, you pushed a hand into the blonde’s hair, attempting to push her away once more, but Miranda took that as an indication to move her lips back to your clit. When Miranda began sucking at your clit, that's when your eyes began to water from the overstimulation. You pinched the back of Miranda’s hand, writhed your hips and groaned, “Please…. Enough, baby…”

Miranda pulled away wide eyed, finally drawn from her trance. You were trying to steady your breath, but the over abundance of pleasure made coming down a challenge. The blonde apologetically kissed the backs of your hands followed by kisses to your navel and thighs. Her words were quiet and sincere, “I’m sorry… Did I hurt you?”

“On the contrary… I just… need a moment… You did very good… Too good… I… Jesus… Where did you… learn that?”

“You… and I think about doing that do you during most of my free time..” Miranda admitted softly, gently rubbing her hands up and down your thighs, ready to be there for you when you wanted to move off the kitchen counter. 

——

The rest of the morning you were singing Miranda’s praises. Not just for the sex but for Miranda being Miranda. You knew the blonde melted at each praise and compliment, so the only true way to pay her back for such a delightful morning was to play into her praise kink. 

You laid together lazily on the couch, ignoring the tv in exchange for each other’s company. A blush never left Miranda’s face as you showered her with quiet ‘I love you’s’ and sweet terms of endearment. Each one causing the blush to deepen and spread to the constable’s ears.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife, @smutuniversesblog, @opheliauniverse, @renravens, @whenyouhaveanobsession, @shyladyfan, @rubberduckiesbathing, @mcufanisme, @peanutbutterprincess, @Alexthefavgay, @ladylarissaweems, @lvinhs, @myzzjolanda, @principal-weems09, @imlike-so-gaydude, @emilynissangtr, @xuukoo, @brienneswife, @kay-liah-scope, @oculusalien, @kimiinou, @sweetderacine, @giogwensversion, @milciak, @gela123, @maximoffslovergirl, @thevillagegay, @katiemcgrathsbitch1, @naomi-m3ndez, @mysaviorfalsegod, @salems-spaghettios, @imgayforwoman69, @bychrissi, @fyrecatz, @bitchr-mkay

[trogthefrog]

My interpretation on Aemond’s actions at Rook’s Rest.

I don’t think that Aemond was straight up planning on killing Aegon. I think he wanted glory, a tactical victory and to sideline and shame Aegon (like in the scene where he uses the difference in their language ability to shame Aegon before the council).

Remember, Aegon wasn’t supposed to be there. Every action Aemond takes is spur of the moment, the emotional and tactical swirling together as his warplan falls apart.

What I saw was petulant behaviour, indecisiveness and a desire for vengeance. Climbing the escalation ladder over the course of the encounter.

When he sees Sunfyre Aemond doesn’t move. His plan is in disarray. He growls and says “Idiot”. Remember, Aemond has dealt with Aegon’s bulling and abuse all his life, the most recent brothel shaming was just the worst of it, Aegon’s arrival triggers all the vengeful, built up anger at Aegon in the same way Lucerys’ arrival at Storm’s end did.

Because of that, I think him staying put was petulant. The growl was a way of saying “well see how well you do against Meleys alone!” As well as “you’re ruining the plan. What the hell! .” But also “fuck you, go get hurt see how well you do without me!” and also a I’ll let him get fucked up a bit for what he’s done to me for all our lives. Then you see the gears turn in his eyes, and he plans to wait. A new plan is forminga nebulous just something else… of violence. The old plan is gone.

Aemond rocks up a little late. With a determined angry expression, he wants to hurt someone (Aegon probably included).

But instead of Aegon being a bit shamed Aemond flys up to see Sunfyre held captive in Meley’s jaws. This makes any fighting Aemond wants to do with the colossal Vhagar against Meleys will be friendly fire. In other words Rhaenys is unintentionally using a “hugging” tactic so any attack on her is friendly fire against Aegon & Sunfyre.

But the curious thing, If Aemond decided on killing Aegon right then shouldn’t he have used Vhagar’s weight to smash both dragons onto the ground? (Like in the book). INSTEAD… he chooses fire, forcing Meleys to let go of Sunfyre and eliminating Rhaenys’ friendly fire hostage advantage (“saving Aegon”). Aemond probably also doesn’t care about his brother… but he’s treating the King as in the way, not as a target.

The fight continues Meleys dies… then Aemond is found by Criston Cole with his sword drawn above Aegon’s body. Aemond sheathes his sword and walks away (with the kings knife). I think this is Aemond skirting the line with murder, NOT a premeditated or garunteed act.

Aemond is probably thinking “oooooo I could do it. I could end you, make myself king, be more worthy and better and win all on my own.” He wants to… but he’s also not doing it, and leaves once confronted. This is probably really deep, maybe because it’s his brother. Who he hates but also knows, is loyal too (in the Daemon sense) and y’know wasn’t supposed to be there!

Aemond was partaking in another rash emotional escalation because he wants murder but also to… not, because it would be bad for him. He’s fighting his emotional desire for revenge (& lack on control) with his royal duty, ideas of loyalty and ancient custom (guest right at Storm’s End, Kinslaying at Rook’s Rest), and probably just a little bit of care for his brother. A situation just like with Luke at Storm’s End, Aemond plays with the possibilities and Vhagar acts… like a dragon.

Or I could be wrong and Aemond wants Aegon dead immediately and always. Anyways I thinks there are some layers.

[makriiii]

Caught Ⅴ (Arthur Morgan × f!reader)

Word count: 3.5k

Author's notes: GUYS I GOT AO3 NOW! 🥳

Warnings: 18+, angst, gun violence, cursing.

Ao3! Or wattpad!

♡

Caught Ⅴ

There was no telling just how long you'd been out. Waking with a grunt, your cheek hard pressed to the filthy wood floor of a veranda.

When you regrettably rolled onto your back, your whole body tensed with pain, every inch, notably your punctured arm. A pained grimace paints your face as you pull your hands to shield your eyes from the sun.

Your head immediately started throbbing as soon as your body started kicking back into gear, though a very low gear at best.

The hustle bustle of the town around you rang through your head, slowly motivating you upright and adjusting to the environment you didn't know you had ended up in.

Arthur was a few feet away from you, just as conked out as you had been just a minute ago, seeing him made you realize you had even less recollection of the night before than you thought.

Carefully getting up, your whole head fought back with a hammering so sharp, it made you bare your teeth and suck a breath in through your them. If you were held upside down while sick, you reckoned this would be how it felt.

"Chrissakes..." You held your head in your palm, your feet stumbling under you as you found your balance.

Taking a moment to think on last night, you recalled arriving in town, immediately being drawn to Smithfield's, having heard it was a mighty fine saloon. And it was indeed mighty fine, considering how you ended up.

You remembered Arthur getting there, losing your hat, talking to some older men, dancing, but much beyond that, you couldn't recollect.

When you looked to Arthur, you saw a bowler's hat on the ground next to him, the one that man had been wearing.

Did you steal it? Stealing a hat didn't seem like something you'd do, but nevertheless you picked it up and put it back on, hoping you'd find your pal to return it back to him.

You looked over Arthur, contemplating on whether or not you should wake him or let him remain. But you didn't pick the latter, rather slapping two hands on his back and grabbing his garments in a tight fist before shaking him good.

He reacted faster than you thought a drunkard from the night before could, startling you when he yanked his pistol from his holster.

"Oh, put that away cupcake. I don't need another hole in me by the likes of you." You snide at his feeble attempt of self defense.

He relaxed back as soon as he saw it was just your nagging ass, leaning his head back with a groan, no doubt feeling the same effects of all the booze from the night before.

"Grab me like that again and it will be by the likes of me." He drawls angrily, rubbing his eyes. "Seeing your face as soon as I open my eyes is the most damning thing."

"Well clearly you didn't think that last night, otherwise you wouldn't have ended up right next to me here."

He jumps up at your words, his brow shooting up in perfect sync, a look that instantly prompts you to reiterate yourself. "Not like that you buffoon. Not even drunk would you catch me pulling your pants down."

Now he looked relieved again, as relieved as a man with an aching head and body from the night before could be. "Why are you wearing that stupid hat anyway?"

"Because I like it, why else?"

"Looks silly." He sits fixing himself to the best of his ability. "It suits you, I suppose."

You sighed, neither of your hangovers enough to calm your will to banter with each other.

"Cant you ever stop talking?" Typically, you'd like to wake up in a bed when you had drank yourself to high heaven. Far far away this man.

"What? I just love talkin' to you, y/n." The sarcasm so painfully evident with that man.

"Love talking to me, later." You plodded away from him, your head hurt too much for his bothersome words right now.

His spurs clicked from behind you, quickening in pace when he caught up to you.

You both traipse slowly down past three buildings before reaching Smithfield's again where your horses stood tied, half-asleep.

Giving your mare a few strokes before you drift past her and back up the stairs to the saloon doors.

A few men were sprawled on the floor and hung over tables, Their snores ignored by the bartender who placidly dried glasses and mugs.

You recognized two of them - the man with the overalls and the one who was missing his hat.

Returning his hat to him, you glanced around for yours, spotting it innocently lying on the piano. Happy to have your hat back on your head, you met back with Arthur outside.

"Y/n." His eyes dark and accusatory. "Did your drunken ass steal my shit?"

You gave him irked scoff, passing him as you sought out your horse. "Got enough of my own, though I suppose I can check if I did."

His presence behind you emanated pure anger, you felt your chest tighten with him looming over you as you begrudgingly checked your saddle bags.

You looked inside, none of his stuff was there. You started patting the insides desperately, your stomach sinking when you realized your belongings weren't there either.

Spinning around, you point your finger at him, poking his chest hard, his accusation now mirroring yours.

"You playing with me right now, Morgan?" You barked, stomping toward him as he took a step back.

"Are you still drunk? I would rather get shot than play games with you right now." He snapped back, you both had very little patience for each other, especially right now.

"Oh," you laugh menacingly, shaking your head up and down. "I can do that for you too, we can match, eh?"

"Jesus, 'least give me a day for you to start this up again." He rubs his forehead, not at all disturbed by your threat.

You patted yourself down, making sure you still retained the items you had on before this night. "We got robbed blind while we screwed off, clearly."

"Really? I didn't notice." He mounted his horse, half telling you to hurry with just his eyes. He was beyond infuriated, and you were happy for it.

"Shut the hell up, Arthur." You jeer, mounting up after him. Not even five minutes in to talking to him and you wanted him gone.

-

You were both as dehydrated as a dead frog on the side of the road. His eyes sunken in and his lips chapped, yours no doubt the same.

You held the horn of your saddle, slumped over and resting your head that pounded and throbbed viciously, parts of your body made their hurt known too. Every little noise overwhelmed you.

Damn near close to pulling off and just taking a fat nap, but town was still too close for comfort.

Arthur's horse clicked next to yours, his eyelids laid closed, both trusting enough to have your steeds walk you back with little direction.

This was damn near the most sober peace you had between the two of you, so inconceivable it was laughable and perhaps you would've snarked if you didn't feel so terrible.

The sun and heat beat against you, amplifying your massive headache. This made no better when a pair of men trotted up beside you, slowing Their horses enough to match your speed.

"Howdy y'all," Greets the man in the middle of you and Arthur. His voice orotund and uppity. "Y'all know where you're going?"

You shifted in your seat, your face twisted with dubiety. Making eye contact with Arthur, who mirrored your pessimism.

"I'm 'fraid not." Arthur calm as could be, his words misleading to an untrained ear.

Your hand locked on to your gun for comfort, your muscle memory already kicking in.

Your mare got hot underneath you, prancing as if she was a thoroughbred at a start gate with your sudden nervousness.

Holding your reins firm in one hand, you attempted to calm her more than you could yourself.

"Well..." he trails off. "Y'all are going through Lemoyne raider country."

"Y'all gotta pay a toll." His companion demands from the right of you.

Lemoyne raiders. Your gang had run into them before, your face fell in exasperation. They were more a nuisance than to be taken serious militia.

"A toll? Nah, don't feel like it." Arthur glimpsed at you, you would both have to agree on something silently if you wanted to avoid anything going haywire.

"You don't feel like it?" The man in the middle blurts angrily. He throws a look over to his partner, clearly signaling a reaction.

"That's too damn bad! Now y'all get off your horses." The man to the right of you yanked at your reins, your mare threw her head around wildly in response, instantly you snapped your gun's hammer back and sent off a loud pop at point blank.

Your reaction caused Arthur to do the same to the man left of you, blood spraying your side as he fell. You recoiled, a disgusted gasp in response.

"Careful, I reckon there's more." And more there were indeed, three coming from every which way.

He kicks his horse into a canter, your mare more than happy to do the same, she didn't want to be caught up in this just as much as you.

Your last bullet rang out, narrowly missing another flunky. Your eyes darted all over your gun belt, struggling to find more bullets.

Scrambling to reload another round as the man gained on you, you felt a lump in your throat as his bellowed obscenities made clearer with your narrowing distance.

Swinging around, you had only put a measly two bullets in. Positive you couldn't miss now, if you did, he wouldn't.

You aimed, shot and missed.

Cursing, you looked back to Arthur for a split second, he had his shotgun drawn, blasting the last one in front of you.

Your target shot at you again, he wasn't fast to reload his rifle to your delight. Hitting him square in the head with the last bullet you had loaded.

"Sons of bitches." Arthur scolds, spurring his horse further. "You fine?"

The adrenaline made you shaky, reholstering your revolver with a disappointed click of your tongue. You'd be sure to practice your aim when you were able to.

"Rather flirtatious asking me if I'm okay." Not even after narrowly getting looted for the second time today could you control yourself. Certainly did relieve your stress though.

Arthur swings his shotgun around and back onto his back aggressively, pursing his lips.

"Why do you make me regret being nice to you?"

"When else have you been nice to me, Morgan?"

He could ride away anytime he wanted, yet he chose to match your speed, perhaps he knew it was better to put up with you rather than deal with more raiders alone.

And you took advantage of it.

"See, I recall being shot by you, tied up for almost two weeks straight, and - oh!" You began, bringing it up as if it wasn't obvious. "Saved your life too."

"Goddamn O'Driscoll, just what do you want me to do for you?"

"An apology for starters." You look up, considering what else you could ask. "Maybe some money too."

"Save this for later, else I'll give you a worse headache once we stop."

All the bouncing in your saddle did anything but remedy your aching head and bones, and annoying Arthur didn't feel as good as normal. So you surrendered, for now.

"Alright, alright." You jest, huffing out the hot air that breezed past you with your quickened pace.

The rest of the ride remained silent, though tense with the possibility of more raiders. His presence wasn't one you often lobbied for, but right now Arthur kept you secure and no doubt you to him.

When you arrived, you were more relieved than you should've, the one place you thought of being free'd from all this time provided you with an odd sense of safety.

They didn't like you, not particularly yet, but they wouldn't hurt you.

That was enough for you to release your gun belt from your waist, fold up your jacket and find a near perfect place to rest your body that had endured much more than you should've allowed.

-

The empty glass bottles only lasted for so long, shattering with each and every trigger pull. Proud of yourself with your aim growing in accuracy faster than you'd thought.

Inhaling deeply, you fondled your guns, cleaning each one of them with much care. It wasn't all the time you had the time or the peace to do this.

The three days since you had gotten terribly drunk with Arthur passed slowly, and those three days you hardly saw him. You didn't linger around camp much, just visiting when you needed a nap or food. Sometimes bringing them measly amounts of money to gain favour.

You tried mingling with Arthurs group, and you felt you got somewhere, but three days wasn't profound by no means. It took time of course, as it did while you thought on what you were to do.

Run with them or find another gang of criminals like yourself, and so far the only thing that had the power to run you out of state was Arthur's nagging.

As you finished cleaning your guns, like the flick of a switch, you realized you hadn't even cleaned yourself for quite some time.

The sizable creek running not far from you, you hadn't paid much attention to, but now it seemed to call out to you.

The tree line empty, no very well ridden trails close to you, it all seemed fine for you to undress and that you did.

A small rock offered a fine surface to place your lazily folded clothes, your boots joining right next to it.

The muggy air felt instantly more bearable as the cool water trickled against your bare skin, the shadow of the trees keeping the scorching summer sun from beating down on you.

You waded all the way in, just enough to reach your shoulders. The water undoubtedly soothed your arms wound. Arguably, this was the most relaxing activity you'd partaken for some time.

Gently dunking your head under the surface of the water, you brushed your fingers through your wet hair, finding a sunken boulder to sit on whilst you did.

Chirping birds and the sound of rippling water resonated like music all around you in the would be silence. Your horse startled you every so often for the first few times she snorted or shuffled, but it passed.

Until you heard crunching leaves under hoof that weren't by her, her face jerking up to see what was coming behind you.

You whipped your head around, your heart jumping right out of your chest.

"Just what the hell?" Arthur clearly not too pleased by your presence, no doubt you mirrored his same disappointment. Your fear canceled out by anger when you realized it was just Arthur.

"Do you enjoy following me around like a dog, Morgan?" You sunk deeper away from him, just enough for only your head to peek out, the water not quite glassy enough to be see through - thankfully.

"Yeah, its not as if I nearly forgot you were still weaseling around after having all these days of peace." He played into your accusation irony, though it only peeved you off more.

A sneer split his cheeks when he noticed your discontent.

You stare at him, he never stopped or turned back, instead he found the nearest tree to tie his mount to and hopped off.

"I'm indecent, you know, at least turn around would you?" Your ask came out more sheepish than you had meant when you realized he was intending to join you.

"You didn't seem to mind when I was fixing up your arm before."

Clenching your jaw at his words, words that rang true- but the amount small.

"Hardly undressed and completely ass naked are very different." You narrowed your eyes at him, feeling like a caged animal in the water that barely provided you any cover.

"I aint stoppin' ya, you can leave whenever, O'Driscoll."

His fingers unclasped his belt and shirt buttons, his chest on full display as he worked his way down. His muscles were well defined, which lined up with what you had clung onto when you rode with him.

Your gaze lingered much too long, his pants not long before whatever was under them also became discovered by your eyes.

You turned 180, your cheeks burned. The memory of holding him so tightly chiseled its way into your immediate thoughts.

"Was wondering when you'd stop staring." Arthur chimed from behind you, cocky as ever.

More shy than you'd like to admit, you blew small bubbles in the water to prevent you from turning back around.

"Just slightly shocked you'd want to show any of that off." You did your utmost to sound put off by him, applauding yourself when it came out properly.

The sound of him joining you in the water sends a small jolt up your back, made no better by the feel of his eyes burning holes through you.

"I don't think you'd've stared so long if that much were the case." His voice sounded much too near to you.

"I remember when you said I was full of myself." Your brows furrow, you could see his shadow nearly covering you from behind. "You're no better than me."

"And I aint claiming to be."

"Why are you staying anyway? I thought you hated my company."

"Cuz this is my spot. How else would I randomly stumble upon a naked O'Driscoll? I don't actively search those out."

That was the kind of talk that would run you out of state. He was just as stubborn as you.

"Well, I was here first. Not my fault i found your secret little spot, or whatever it is." You turn around to give him a dirty look, preferably also leave, but as you did, you found yourself looking up at him from your mostly submerged position.

His entire upper body was out of the water, the rest of him barely graced by the cover of the safely murky water. Your face near perfect eye level to his manhood.

"Christ, why are you so close to me?" Keeping your eyes well away from anything below his face, as hard as it was.

He starts backing up, and to your horror, the water around his lower area was being parted.

"Okay, okay! Stay right there." You started splashing him as both a distraction for him and yourself. The loose sand beneath you only slowed your attempt at escape.

When you seized your efforts, you realized you'd have to run to the nearest tree before he caught a glimpse of you.

"Goddamnit, woman," he sputters out some water, wiping away the artificial tears in his eyes. "Sorry for my scarce injustice against you."

You crossed your arms to cover yourself better. "Good, now look away."

He grumbles something under his breath, reluctantly doing as you say.

Springing out of the water, you wasted no time to put on your shirt, that most delightfully covered the half of you.

Once you crouch down to grab your boots and gun belt, you heard a splash for only a second before water hit your back. Gasping out in shock, your whole body lurching up to face the threat.

You retreated up the bank when you saw he had no intention of stopping.

"Arthur!" You screech, a stray garment facing fierce downpour. "Stop splashing me! You'll get my shit wet, you overgrown rat!"

You tried maneuvering to collect your socks, but to no avail. He simply wouldn't let up. Which gave you an idea.

You look over to his horse who had his clothes laid out over the saddle. He saw where you were looking.

"Don't you dare." Now the man was still, complying with your demands. Unfortunately he was much too late.

You step over carefully to avoid small rocks that would slow your efforts.

"I swear-" A smirk oh-so-big met ear to ear on your face, you turned to face him as you stepped back and grabbed his clothes.

"I'd choose my next words very carefully, cowboy." Having such power over him never felt so good. "You gonna say 'please, y/n?' Give me a little pouty face too?"

His fists were clenched and his lip hard pressed between his teeth. He was under your mercy now, and you couldn't ask for anything more.

You traipsed down stream superciliously, far enough from his firing area. Eyeing him all the way, his face not carrying a trace of arrogance anymore.

"Say it." You hiss, holding out his clothes over the watery depths.

"Please." He forces, it took everything he had not to throw out insults and hold back his defiance.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," you feigned pulling his clothes back to safety, just for a moment before throwing his shirt off to the side. "Now, I want an apology for my arm."

You held his pants with just two fingers, waving them over their certain date with destiny. With your other hand you yanked up your pants.

"Put them down, y/n. Right now." He grimaces, he wasn't so pleased with himself now. But you sure as hell were.

"Ah, ah. That's not what should be coming out of your mouth."

He steps closer, every inch of his muscle tense with anger.

You snap out your finger, waving it in the air as to deny him further.

"Five... four... three-" You released them, he instantly started moving for them once they slowly started downstream.

As soon as he started splashing toward you, you jumped back and turned for your soggy socks. Never did you put on your boots so fast and run for your mare.

"Don't you dare run O'Driscoll!" He shouts from behind you, the water splashing like mad before it stopped. He was out of the water.

Refusing to look back, you jumped on your mare, and immediately clicked her into a lope. This all felt like the day of the train robbery, just this time you weren't running for your life.

[the-cu-genswap-au]

Behind the scenes post #1

In which I'll be looking through all the comics I've posted so far and highlighting interesting facts, details, and references I threw in while making them!

#1. General CU references:

- This is the most obvious one: Ben's locker number and locker combination are references to the first book's original publishing date—September 1, 1997

- "Murray" is Dav Pilkey's middle name (David Murray Pilkey)

- I said this in the original post but "Ms. Mancini" is taken from Madison Mancini, one of the kids George and Harold sabotage during the Invention Convention in the second book

#2. Production trivia #1: my cheat for saving time on environments: the following panels were all sketched over screenshots from the movie

- Sometimes to save time on a complicated panel, I'll directly sketch over a screenshot of the specific shot I need so I can get the layout of the scene down before moving on to finer details. It's good practice for drawing the same location freehand later on—every subsequent panel of the stage and classroom scenes was drawn organically using different screenshots as reference.

- I also alternated between tracing and freehand with the car in this comic. I'd post example panels but I'm already close to hitting the image limit on mobile oops.

- I'm not very great at drawing locations. Working on this comic has genuinely helped me improve in that area.

#3. Production trivia #2: how my loosey-goosey approach to comic-making can come back to bite me: I explained once how this scene was a last-minute addition to the comic

going back a few pages, we see this panel

Originally, this panel was supposed to be the only appearance of the Ree brothers in this chapter, with Jerry sitting behind them as a low-key Jeree reference.

- I actually don't make any scripts or thumbnail sketches when I make these comics. I have a rough outline of where I want the scene to go and everything from dialogue to visuals is kind of made up as I go along, lol. Case in point: adding in the above scene as a spur-of-the-moment decision because Melvin's dialogue needed relevant imagery.

- Once I started drawing that page, though, I quickly realized that having Ribble and Anthrope behind the Rees wasn't consistent with the first panel. Whoopsie. I considered going back to edit the panel for a while.... before I decided that the original angle wouldn't actually show them off that well anyway, lol. I figured the implication that Ribble and Anthrope were sitting there all along would be enough.

- Ultimately, I'm glad I added in this little scene. It's a nice character moment between Toilette and Lavatore, and it helps to set up some key points for later on....

Part 2 will be up in a bit!

[archerlullaby]

For writing, how bout the moment the chain meets Twilight’s childhood friend Ilia. Like how’d they respond to how they are together (friend or relationship it’s up to you) how Twilight is around ilia…..enjoy

ANON THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA! Ilia is such a girlboss and I’m surprised that there aren’t more works out there that have her in it. AND TWI??? Even though he’s a big scary fella on the outside I’m sure he’s the biggest cinnamon roll on the inside. IM SURE HE GETS SO FLUSTERED—

As a side note, I had to keep myself from making Twilight say “Yer darn tootin”, and I can’t tell if I’m pleased or disappointed in myself. Anyways, here’s the food:

Home to You

Twilight groans as he picks his face up from the dirt. He was absolutely certain that the Goddess had it out for him, as his experiences of going through a portal often leave him with a mouthful of mud and grass. To add insult to injury, Time thinks it’s hilarious, and often gives little quips about it whenever can. In fact, it’s Time who hoists him up by his baldric, grinning like a child.

“Didn’t know you went vegan, Rancher!” He says, voice barely hiding a laugh. Twilight growls, spits out the leaves in his mouth, and slaps Time’s hand off his shoulder. Standing, he adjusts his wolf pelt with as much dignity as he could muster. His irritation is short-lived, however, when the familiar scent of his Hyrule makes itself apparent. His heart speeds up, excitement fluttering in his stomach as a wide grin grows on his face. It’s been months since he’s been home. Months! It’s been longer still since he’s been in Ordon Village, as most of the Chain’s adventures lead them primarily to Hyrule Castle.

Twilight turns towards Hyrule, who currently has his hands on his knees and looks like he is about to hurl into the bushes.

“Chin up, Roolie!” He grins, “You can’t be feeling sick when you’re in Ordon! You still have yet to try the famous pumpkin soup!” Hyrule groans, doing his best to settle his stomach. “It’s made with the heartiest pumpkins,” —Hyrule lurches— “The creamiest goat cheese,”—Hyrule turns greener— “And to top it off, the nutrient-filled head of a Rockfish! Eyes and all!” Hyrule finally slaps a hand to his mouth.

“Please stop, I’m begging you,” he groans weakly. Twilight relents and wraps an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m just happy to be home!”

Wild picks his way over to his mentor, eyes bright and curious.

“So, where do we go from here? Your village, I’m guessing?” He asks, pulling a twig from his hair and looking at it thoughtfully.

“That’s right, Cub,” Twilight replies, snatching the twig away before Wild can put it in his mouth.

“Then let’s get going! It’s about time I sleep in an actual bed without you know who drooling on me,” Legend butts in and give a pointed stare at Sky, who merely shrugs and smiles. “And,” Legend continues, “I would like at least one night of my life not having to worry about getting mauled by one of Wild’s stupid bears! My hat still hasn’t recovered.” He looks forlornly at his cap, which has six very conspicuous-looking holes in it. Twilight claps him on the shoulder.

“Not to worry, Leg. We’ve got the best bear-free accommodations in the region, and it’s only a half day journey. We’ll make it by nightfall if we start now!” Twilight starts walking through the trees as the others eagerly fall in behind him, spurred on by the promise of beds to sleep on and a warm evening meal.

It takes the group less than half a day’s journey, Twilight’s excitement quickening their pace. The sun, although low in the sky, has yet to touch the horizon as the enter through the village gates. Twilight pauses and takes a big breath in, the familiar scent of sun warmed gardens and grazing animals chasing away any remnants of homesickness. His eyes are drawn towards two small figures rushing towards him

“Liiiiiiiiinnnkkk!” Their voices bounce with each step as the two boys run down the dirt path.

“Malo! Talo!” He laughs, spreading his arms as the boys all but tackle him. When they finally let go, they bounce around him, pulling at his trousers and hands. “How you both have grown!”

The others watch on in mild amusement as their resident tough-guy is harassed by children. The brothers’ loud voices alert the other children in the village, and it’s not long before Twilight has a kid perched on his shoulders, another hooked to his hip, and two others wrapped around each of his legs, weighing down his steps. It’s like this that he makes his way towards his house, running in to other residents of the town along the way. Pergie and Jaggle both wave from their doorstep, and call in Malo and Talo for dinner. The two leave reluctantly, but not before forcing Twilight to promise to show them more bow skills. Rusl greets him with a firm handshake and a pat on the back and Uli pulls him into a crushing hug, planting a kiss on his cheek.

“We know you’re tired dear. We’ve kept your home clean and tidy while you were away, but if you need anything at all, you know where to find us!” Uli winks. She turns to the remaining kids clinging onto Twilight. “And the rest of you, shoo! Link and his friends need rest. You can see him tomorrow!” Twilight nods his thanks, and gestures to the others to follow, trudging the rest of the way to his home.

Opening the door, he smile and beckons everyone in. Wind and Warriors make a beeline for the pile of pillows in the corner, shoving each other out of the way, as Sky gently rests the Master Sword against a cabinet and promptly collapses on the rug.

“Make yourselves comfortable. Wild, can you whip up something—”

“Already on it,” Wild says as he heads back outside.

“Thanks. And please, my home is your home, so don’t feel like—”

“Link?” A soft voice floats down from the loft. A sudden quiet descends upon the group, seven pairs of eyes staring up at the figure of a young woman with gentle eyes and short, lopsided hair. Twilight, the only one not immediately facing the loft, slowly turns around, eyes wide and breath short. When he sees her, his brain promptly short-circuits.

“Ah…I…uh,” he struggles. Finally, he just lifts his hands and simply signs hi. She laughs (like bells, he thinks) and slides down the ladder before approaching him and putting her hands on her hips.

“Hi, farmboy,” she smiles, and Twilight can’t do anything but sheepishly rub the back of his neck. This was his downfall, as this gesture was another attribute that every Link shared, and by Hylia they know what it means.

“You have a girlfriend?” Warriors all but yells.

“Uh—” Twilight is cut off by Time, who comes up behind him and rests his hands on Twilights shoulders.

“Hi. I’m Time. Welcome to the family. I’m happy to see my son is not a lost cause.” Twilight is mortified and buried his face in his hands as Ilia merely laughs and raises an eyebrow. Legend leans on the wall next to her.

“I’m not going to say I’m surprised. I’m not a surprised type of guy. But how in Hylia’s name did you get past the wet dog smell?”

“Wet dog? I think it smells more like goats,” Four chimes in. Wind nods, a shit-eating grin appearing on his face.

“Not to mention he eats like a wild animal!” The Sailor chortles.

“And snores like one too,” Hyrule mumbles.

“ENOUGH!” Twilight wails and shoos everyone back with his hands. His face and neck were red, redder than anyone in the group had ever seen, and the group took far too much delight in seeing their usually broody brother squirm in embarrassment. Twilight turns back to Ilia, unable to meet her eyes.

“This, um, this is the group I’ve been traveling with. You haven’t met them yet ‘cause the last time we were here you and your Pa were in the next village over,” he explains.

“I see,” she replies, holding in a laugh. Twilight all but sighs and goes to turn away to wallow in his humiliation, but before he can, Ilia grabs his shoulders. “Come back here, you!” Her laugh bubbles out of her lips and she pulls him into a bear hug. He melts into it, almost draping himself over her smaller frame. A collective awww from the group and a whistle from Wars makes Ilia stand on her tiptoes and peek over Twilight’s shoulder.

“Now hush!” She says sternly. Everyone’s mouths immediately snap shut. “This poor boy has had enough embarrassment for one evenin.” Twilight nods into her shoulder.

The others finally began to go about their own business, stealing amused glances at the couple. It was Sky who timidly approaches the two when Twilight finally broke the hug.

“Hi, I’m Sky. You seem like a very nice person!” Sky’s smile was nothing if not genuine. Ilia returns it

“Ilia. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I notice you didn’t chime in on embarrassing my farmboy here,” she pats Twilight’s shoulder. Sky laughs.

“I get the same treatment when we visit my home, trust me when I tell you. I figured I’d let him catch a break this time,” he replies, throwing a wink towards Twi. He nods his thanks, but not before he looses a large yawn, one which Sky can’t help but return. The Skyloftian stretches and heads towards the lounge.

“You all must be exhausted!” She turns back towards Twilight, “I’ve been the one keeping your home ready for you. Why don’t you go settle down and I’ll make you all some warm milk?”

“Could you, maybe, stay with me for a little while longer? Then you can warm the milk?”

She smiles softly.

“How can I refuse those puppy-dog eyes? Fine. Come on, then.” She grabs his hand and pulls him towards the lounge where everyone else had made themselves comfortable. He makes his way to a vacant space and gently pushes an already sleepy Sky to lean the other way. Settling in on one of the cushioned seats, Twilight pulls Ilia down next to him and hooks an arm around her to pull her close as she snuggles in to his side. He allows himself a small smile and rests his head on top of hers. It was then he caught Time’s gaze. It was soft and warm, his eyes crinkling slightly at the edges. It was a look only reserved for moments when he spoke of home and family, or when Wind would best one of the older boys in a spar. A rare look to be certain. Twilights smile grew. He’s proud of me. He closes his eyes and lets himself take in the comfort of his home, the woman at his side, Sky’s soft snores, and even the muted bickering between Wars, Wind, and Legend about something or the other. He feels safe. Warm. Loved. It was the most peaceful he’s felt for so long, and he basks in the feeling. That is, until Wild kicks the door open with a loud BANG that has everyone scrambling.

“Dinners done. Wait, what the hell?” He drops the food. “YOU’VE GOT A WIFE?”

Twilight groans and hides his face in Ilia’s hair. This was going to be a long evening.

[lrdvyke]

an exploratory kiss,  testing the waters between them + lansseax 🤐

It is a simple touch, a lithe hand slipping into his, masking a strength greater than his own. Without his gauntlets on, skin meets skin, cool and warm both. Vyke bends then as his fingers wrap around hers, bowing to her almost in the show of respect she deserves. It would not be beyond his station to leave it at that, but his lips ghost along her knuckles before pressing with more purpose, inhaling softly the scent that she has upon her. A delicate thing. Of gold and red lightning. Of the wind that carries her along, of the hard stone that is given over for flesh in these moments.

His lips trail; pressing to the back of her hand and then to the inside of her wrist, a pulse so faint dances. She does not pull away from him. He feels her hand tense within his grip: it spurs him on further. To lay a reverent kiss to her forearm, ghosting along the curve and the scales that have no desire to hide amongst flesh. The sleeve of her gown slides down as he lifts her arm, his other hand grasping her softly as his lips lay their affections upon the bend.

He breathes. It is more than he has gone before, but he cannot stop himself. Does she desire it too? Or is she simply testing how far he is willing to go? How far he is willing to poke their deepening friendship as if it is merely a fragile vase to behold and nothing more?

Vyke continues still. Drawn in by her, how close her breathing is to his ears. He urges his heart to quell, but it does not listen.

He pulls back, just enough to look at her fully. Her veil is gone, her eyes pierce him. The air is heavy. He feels his head lighter than it should, as if soon enough he will be carried away by the winds of the plateau. He wants her. What does she want? Vyke's hand moves away from her arm, fingers roughened by wear within silver gauntlets brush with such gentleness against the curve of her jawline, he surprises even himself.

A smile, slight, in awe. Of her, of what she makes him feel. In it, he moves close to her again. She does not lean away. Vyke throws himself to the wind anyway, lets it carry him as it often does, and brushes his lips against her own. Delicate at first, a test of sorts, even if a spike hits his nerves in want of a shiver down his spine. Her lips open, melding with his, receptive. She tastes of storms, and Vyke presses a bit more into the kiss until he covers her mouth with his own. Inhaling, telling his lungs to breathe, as his mind stutters out into only knowing her.

But it ends. It ends. He looks at her, his fingertips keep to the edge of her countenance. Down her neck. Away. ❛ I believe ... I would want nothing more than to be able to do that again. And again. Until I leave you as breathless as you leave me. ❜

@saovaene !

[chelzone]

Assorted Thoughts - My Webcomic

if u haven't gotten a chance yet, please check out my webcomic ..Just Another Day!. there's 120 pages currently (as of writing this post on August 31, 2024), and its draw in a line-focused style with lots of neon colors and a sort of abstract-minimalist-adjacent look. in a simple sense, the webcomic is a slice-of-life and paranormal flavored experience for a handful of furry folkz of diff genduhs and sexualities in the fictional country of Corter. in a wider-scope, its also a simulated life experience managed by an android named Odell Scout. on the main website linked at the start of this paragraph, the reader is given commentary by Scout at the bottom of the page (the Operator's Notes section)

anyway, ive some thoughts i wanna ramble on about this webcomic so far. might have spoilers might not, so hiding it all under a read more incase.

Its Roots

A drawn page from 2018, from the now-expunged former webcomic of mine - COMIKZONE.

see that ancient comic page above? for starters, that's the precursor to ..Just Another Day! basically, a loose page from an old comic series i attempted between 2018 an 2019 called COMIKZONE. it was probably my first legit attempt at a webcomic of any kind, and is pretty rough technically in comparison to its more-proper successor these days. i got through making at least 20 pages over the span of a year or so, each one just being a spur of the moment thing made purely for fun and with no connected story in mind for itself and its sibling pages before and after. a lot of its looks where made from me taking photographs in chicago, cropping out small chunks of said photos, and then editing them to make textures of sorts for the characters and environments. theres a slim chance an archive of COMIKZONE is out there online on some random upload site, but these days i only have it saved locally and do not wish to repost it back online in full.*

basically, this would later inspire me to create ..Just Another Day! on July 24, 2023 and continuing updating it since then. it took the improvised and spur-of-the-moment feeling of COMIKZONE, attached to it a proper story both for the characters within and the meta shit outside it, and used that character seen above as a prototype design for my current webcomic's character Ede Matches. funny enough, this would be the second time i refolded that one-off design from COMIKZONE for one of my present-day OCs - as it also served as the prototype design for my characters Jason Millveille and his 'father' Prof. Roger Clements.

The Protagonist(s)

Proper full drawing made of the webcomic characters Ede and Rosa respectively. Their colors here are canon for how they look outside of the webcomic's intentional limitations.

when i began work on ..Just Another Day! back in July 2023, i originally had the idea that the proper protagonists would just be lovers Ede Matches and Rosa Lithium for the whole thing. but really, it can't truly be like that if i want this experience to feel alive while also just being about whatever. in the 120 pages drawn so far, the role of the protagonist has jumped back and forth a lot depending on the situation.

in my mind, everyone plays a part in this whole thing - i can't just say Ede and Rosa handle it alone. everyone's got their struggles, everyone's pushing the story ahead, and everyone's influencing each other. in one sense, i like to look towards real life where there is no protagonist of this world we all share together - for better or worse. in another sense, i like to look towards something like Seinfeld where the protagonist can shift depending on who's manning the A plot and B plot respectively from episode to episode. that show also is an inspiration, what with its 'show about nothing' concept. there's still a lot of time ahead to give certain characters the spotlight for awhile, an see where it takes us.

The End (What is..? When is..? Etc.)

Drawing I made back in August 2022 of my character Odell Scout - the creator and narrator of the simulated project.

it has to be stressed that the story of ..Just Another Day! is genuinely handled a few pages at a time. right now as I type this, i have in mind what'll follow for maybe the next 5 to 10 pages at most, but not what will carry on after them. the ending? sure, there's been a handful of ideas in mind, but nothing is set in stone aside from how the presentation of its finale someday will be drawn. this isn't just a case of "oh i didnt plan ahead" but rather "its done when i can find peace with it, and then properly wrap it up without feel like its being dragged on forever like the Simpsons".

within the characters' lives, i want to hit a point where i've showcases enough shapshots of their lives and given them enough of a meaty story to make it feel like you - the reader - had enough time to enjoy getting a look at chunks of their lives. for the outside story, that is, the simulation aspect of it, i want to stretch it until the point that Odell Scout feels like his project was a roaring success and can be put to rest properly. his satisfaction is felt thru me in turn, and his project in-universe must end someday for he'll have to move onto other scientific adventures (i too must finish it someday and move onto other projects). for now, enjoy what's going on right now and know someday it will have a definite end with no sequels nor reboots to follow.

will another webcomic follow in its footsteps? at the moment, im leaning towards no personally. but never say never, right? in the meantime, thanks for reading and make sure to keep checking the main site for any new page updates. current schedule is 2-3 pages put up per week usually, with rare off-days if needed for my health.

[floralcrematorium]

Bang The Doldrums is THE FrUK Fall Out Boy song... Hear me out

I think of it from Arthur's perspective at Francis.

"I wrote a goodbye note in lipstick on your arm When you passed out I couldn't bring myself to call Except to call it quits"

I'm imagining Arthur and Francis in a terrible on-again-off-again situation. It's awkward. Tension is high but they're pulled back to one another continuously. Arthur has a hard time talking about their situationship, and as much as he doesn't want to, he's able to finally say something when it's time to call it quits. Also the idea of Francis owning lipstick is something I hold dear.

"Best friends, ex-friends 'til the end Better off as lovers and not the other way around Racing through the city, windows down In the back of yellow checkered cars"

I think a good way to describe FrUK is "best friends - ex-friends." Ultimately their relationship is one of enemies, frenemies, or what have you, but I like to think that their relationship overall is a rollercoaster ride. They can have good moments of clarity where they're together playing whatever drinking game. However they're also bitter enemies and the two of them are just full of spite. A constant battle of back and forth. However the middle ground is lovers. Is it better to be lovers? Better to be together and crazy for another and not the other way around? While there can be strenuous moments, maybe the good times with Francis are enough for Arthur to have a moment to be carefree.

"This city says, "Come hell or high water" Well, I'm feeling hot and wet I can't commit to a thing Be it heart or hospital"

There's a lot of tension spurred lust in this relationship. That's all I have to say about that. However I think neither of them can really commit to to the relationship, especially Arthur. I think typically he's a man who doesn't know when to give up (in a detrimental way), however with Francis, the uncertainty of allowing himself the vulnerability of being ensnared in a game of hearts is what gets him. I think to a degree, it's hard for Francis to commit in the way that there are people who could treat the both of them better. Both of them are honestly a little lost in the security of someone they've known for so long, they know so well, and who they know will just leave them hurt and broken hearted again. And yet... They're drawn back together.

"The tombstones were waiting, they were half-engraved They knew it was over, they just didn't know the date"

The tombstone references the end of their relationship. I love graveyard imagery and the notion of mortality, so that's a personal bias. Anyway, going back to the first verse about Arthur being able to call only to call it quits -- I think the uncertainty of their relationship and when this on-again-off-again game will end plays into "what is the final nail in the coffin?" questioning.

"And I cast a spell over the west to make you think of me The same way I think of you This is a love song in my own way Happily ever after below the waist"

I think taking "I cast a spell over the west" literally with the sense that England has... mage or magic abilities is a little silly, but it could work! I think it could also just refer to wit, charm, or manipulation? I like to think that with FrUK, it's a mutually obsessive relationship. Neither of them are particularly healthy about how much they think about the other. Whatever this back and forth game is what Arthur's used to. Bringing Francis down to his level is the love song? Anyway, "happily ever after below the waist" is exactly what it sounds like. Even if Arthur's called it off, they're back together again.

Better off as lovers... not the other way around

[syntaxaero]

so the aero part in my username never had anything to do with airplanes or even anything necessarily aerodynamic/air related

it's the name i gave a character who was an archer. I named a character that attacks with arrows "aero" because i had no other ideas. then i became a furry and when i made my current 'main' sona (Aero), instead of giving them a name like my previous sonas (Sytrus and Arkiose), I just said to refer to them as if they were me, though people would refer to me as Aero since that was my name on most platforms at the time anyway.

So yeah Aero is named Aero because of an archery pun from a humansona character i threw in the dumpster. SyntaxAero is word play on "Syntax Error" (Some accents pronounce Aero and Error almost the exact same), which I always thought was clever! but then people started calling me Syntax (and still do) instead of Aero sooo I eventually made a sona named Syntax to cover that. Some people also somehow don't know how to pronounce SyntaxAero despite the fact that it's two words and capitalized as SyntaxAero in any platform i can capitalize my username as such in. seriously ive had people call me "Sine-tax" before

anyways as for the other sona names

Aurex - wasn't actually my idea but i no longer know who to credit this to; can mean King of Gold/Golden King (Latin: Aurum and Rex) but that wasn't intentional funnily enough! ALSO funnily enough the name of some Toshiba audio products! I have audio equipment autism!

Delta (Valstrax) - It's just sort of a gender feeling name that felt right for me. but also yes Partially Inspired By The Airline Name since Valstrax is a jet dragon and I've gone full airplane liker mode at this point.

Stratus - Spur of the moment kind of name! though I can't remember if i gave them cloudy details before or after i came up with the name! either way, creature of the clouds with a cloud name. ... coincidentally tangentially related to aviation?? I guess? so that's 3 sonas with something to do with flying

Biscuit - This wasn't meant to be their final name but it's the only name I couldve thought of when I first concepted them !!! I even commissioned a piece of them eating biscuits way before I ever actually finalized the design, soooooooo. yeah they remain biscuit forever. it's a cute name though and i like being called a biscuit

yes I have 6 sonas yes it's. alot. but the mood on who I wanna draw or get art of shifts fairly rapidly which is how im sorta able to manage it all (though, Delta barely gets drawn because FUCK those wings oh my god they hurt to draw, and they've been in redesign hell for a while, and Syntax hasn't really had a spotlight due to Aurex sort of just taking some of Syntax's defining traits and running with it {referring to their shapes and fat necks})