#I Became the Male Lead's Mother | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Seven — Azriel x Reader

Note: I hope you enjoy this part because I’m not overly happy with how it’s written, I don’t know why 😭probably just me being a DUMBASS. Also, it’s still not letting me tag some of you 😩anyone know why?

Summary: The Bat Boys are worried about reader. Cassian’s getting a little suspicious of Kaeda. Azriel is really, really missing his friend.

Word count: 7k.

Warnings: Some injury detail.

“He cannot do this. Surely, he cannot fucking do this.”

Azriel slams his fist on the table so hard that ale sloshes over the lip of a mug. The atmosphere in the mead hall is unusually calm tonight. There’s more laughter than arguing, and some dickhead with a lute is even providing the attendants with music. But at the centre table, a cloud of doom darkens the mood.

Everyone has wisely given Rhys, Cassian and Azriel a wide berth.

Tensions are high. Something’s got to give.

“His role in this camp is to oversee our training.” Az balls his fists. “Not to get involved with how we spend our time outside of it.” He eyes Cass and Rhys opposite him. “Right?”

“Technically, yes.” Rhys confirms. “But as the overseer of said training, he also has the authority to remove any distractions as he sees fit.”

“Distractions? She’s our friend, not a fucking toy—”

“I’m just putting it to you straight, Az. It’s the typical Illyrian attitude rearing its ugly head. All four of us made the decision to go to Fenlaros, and yet it’s the female who shoulders the blame.”

“It’s fucking ridiculous.” Cassian finally speaks up.

He hasn’t said much. Too busy thinking about last night.

Nobody knows a thing about that wild, impulsive fuck except him and Y/N. He plans to keep it that way. Not out of any sense of regret, but…he doesn’t know. His brain is ticking over.

He can’t help wondering something that’s never occurred to him before.

Is Y/N branded a certain way by Illyrian ideologies because the closest people to her are males? Has she unfairly gained a reputation — one that would be made worse if what she and Cassian had done became common knowledge?

He doesn’t want to be the reason she gets more shit thrown her way. He’s starting to think he should think harder before he acts. Maybe last night was a mistake. He can’t even see Y/N to talk it through with her.

“So what do we do?” Az is asking as Cass zones back in. “There’s got to be something. Do we take the matter to your father?”

Rhys cocks an eyebrow. “Be real for a second, Az. My father would laugh us out of Velaris. He doesn’t concern himself with trivial camp matters.”

“Y/N having to choose between an abusive household or perishing in the snow is not a trivial matter.”

“To him, it is. He’d tell Devlon to lead and do what he believes is right. Which, he already has, even if we don’t agree with it.”

“Well that’s bullshit. We can’t just lie down and do nothing—”

“I’m not saying that, Az—”

“What about your mother? She adores Y/N. Surely she could appeal to your father—”

“No. She’s pregnant. She stays out of this.”

“Then what do you suggest, Rhysand?”

“How about you start by explaining to Cass and I what’s gotten into you recently?”

Finally, Az has nothing to say. He goes silent. Still.

He stares back at his two friends like he can’t imagine why they would wonder such a thing.

And then he purses his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Cassian scoffs. “Please. Even I think you starting fights left and right has been extreme.”

“Fuck you. You’re totally exaggerating.”

Rhysand raises an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“I do.”

“We’re just worried that your behaviour has changed since Kaeda came into the picture—”

“You know what I’m worried about?” Az snaps. “Our friend who is literally homeless as of this morning. That’s a little more important, don’t you think?”

Yes…and no. It’s not that Cassian and Rhys don’t agree. It’s just that…that all roads lead back to Kaeda. And that’s becoming a problem.

“We’re not just going to leave Y/N to deal with this alone, Az.” Rhys tells him. “We just need to be careful about how we deal with it. Devlon isn’t messing around. I don’t want us to cause her more trouble.”

As folds his arms. “So what do you suggest?”

“I’ll talk to Y/N’s friend — Vegha. I’m sure she can open her home to Y/N while we figure things out. Just don’t do anything impulsive or stupid.”

That seems to appease Az a little. He sits back in his chair — allows himself to be a bit more open.

Until Cass totally fucking ruins it and says, “And don’t go starting any more fights just to impress Kaeda.”

Az says again, “Fuck you.”

Cass returns a withering look. “Fuck you right back.”

“Productive.” Rhys comments, shaking his head. He pushes to his feet, and both his friends look round.

“Where are you going?” Az asks.

“To speak with Vegha.” Rhys tells him. “And don’t follow me. You two idiots will only make things worse.”

He has no idea how right he is.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It starts with the fire going out. Always.

The door swings open hard enough to hit the wall, and freezing air envelops the place. Your father tracks snow into the house, and he smells so strongly of booze that it permeates the room and spreads like a sickness.

You are five years old. You like to draw things in the soot that coats the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. The house always feels untidy since mama stole away in the dead of night a year ago. You try to keep on top of the cleaning, but the damp and the cold makes your hands sore, your bones ache.

Every night, you sit with your hands in your lap and wait for your father to return home. If he’s coming back from the forge, he’s tired and in a bad mood. If he’s coming back from the mead hall or a tavern, he’s drunk and in a really bad mood.

Tonight is the latter. But not only is he drunk and in a bad mood — he’s also brought company.

Four other males. They’re all huge — too huge to fit into the house, you think. If they’ve come for food, there isn’t any. If they’ve come for comfort, there isn’t any of that, either.

But they’re looking at you, all four of them. And in some way, you know that it’s you they’ve come for.

“This is the one?” A male with reddish-brown hair asks.

“I have only one.” Your father answers, and he jerks a chin in your direction. “That is it.”

It.

“Scrawny. There’s barely anything of her.” A second male comments. “This won’t be difficult.”

“I always think that,” reddish-brown answers, “and then they start fighting back. Kicking and scratching.”

You may only be five, but you are not foolish. Something is very, very wrong. A sinister wave has swept your already-miserable home, and you are about to be swallowed up in it. You eye the four males with wide eyes and scoot back a little.

Reddish-brown is the leader. He folds his arms with an authoritative air and announces, “Pathorn and Yevmael can hold her down,” he turns to the second male, “you take one wing, and I’ll take the other.”

The male that steps towards you from the back has eyes as black as the soot in the hearth. His lips twitch up on one side, and he says, “Come here, then, little pup.”

You do not move.

“Come.” He repeats. “It won’t hurt…much.”

They laugh at that.

You tuck your dirty, bruised knees tightly into your chest and rest your chin atop of them. You say nothing, make no move.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” His friend at the back says, stalking over to you. “Just pick her up.”

He does exactly that — by the scruff of your neck. You yelp as he yanks you into the air, and on instinct, your arms are flailing, legs kicking, tiny wings flaring.

“Look at that.” Charcoal eyes sneers at those very wings. “It’s a fucking abomination.”

If this is a game, you don’t like it. You twist in the male’s grasp, try to wriggle free, and he growls a curse at you. You growl back — a fierce, fierce noise, you think. It makes the males laugh again.

“On the table.” Reddish-brown says. “Face-down.”

“Papa,” you fight, “papa, papa, papa.”

There comes no response. It’s then that you realise he’s removed himself from the room. Left you with these monsters.

“Quiet now, pup.” Charcoal eyes says. “This won’t take long.”

You want to scratch him, and you try, even though your nails are chewed and bitten, despite mama always telling you not to do that. But mama isn’t here now and neither is papa. It’s just strangers with angry faces. Strangers who want to hurt you.

You’re slammed down onto the table, and you let out a cry. Someone holds your legs down. Another person holds your arms.

You are five years old. You like to draw pictures in the soot that covers the fireplace. You don’t like green apples, but red ones aren’t so bad. You are utterly and totally alone.

“I hope you never thought about flying.” Reddish-brown steps up to you. “That day will never come.”

And then they begin hacking at your wings.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Your father takes you to a healer only when it’s almost too late. A fever scorches you head to toe. You think that mama returns to sit by your bedside, but that isn’t real. It’s a dream.

You’re too weak. You sleep fitfully on your front, because trembles wrack your body that continuously wake you up. You jerk every time the pain at your back gets too much.

The door opens, and you wonder if mama is returning again. You like that dream. But it’s your father, accompanied by the male who has been leaning over your weakened body for days.

“Will she live?” Your father asks.

“She will.” The healer tells him. “If she can fight off the infection.”

“Can’t you just give her a tonic, or something?”

“This is the worst wing clipping I have ever seen. There are ample healers in Illyria who are qualified to carry out the practice. What possessed you to instead leave her in the hands of a group of soldiers?”

“I will do with my child as I see fit.”

“You may no longer have a child, if she cannot fight this. Her life hangs in the balance.”

Your father makes a noise that sounds like a growl. He does that when you’re in his way, and he just wants to sit quietly without you lingering around him. “Give her a fucking tonic—”

“If she survives this,” the healer tells him, “she will be scarred and in pain for the rest of her life. You did not merely clip her wings. You butchered them. This is precisely why a healer should be the one to perform the procedure—”

Your body jerks with a fresh wave of pain, and you whimper. Both your father and the healer look over at you.

Your father’s lip curls, and he turns to the male once more. “Fix her.” He commands. “Because if you can’t, you’re helping me bury the body.”

No. The males will come back and put their hands on you again. They’ll bury a body. They’ll bury your body. They’re going to bury you. Soil will fall on your ruined wings, and when mama truly does come back, she’ll have only an unmarked grave to greet you at.

You try to move, but you’re strapped down. You whimper again.

Bury the body.

Bury the—

Your body lurches up.

Sweat slicks your skin. You press a hand to your forehead, but it’s cool, not burdened by fever. You’ve awoken like this every morning for the past week.

The dreams are burdening you a lot right now. The memories.

They remind you, at least, why you will not return to your father’s home. Even if you end up hunching yourself up in doorways and exhausting any other dire options.

You hear a noise from the doorway, and you rub the bleariness from your eyes. Illuminated by the dim light in the hall, a male leans against the doorframe. He watches you nonchalantly, biting into an apple. Green, not red.

“You were shouting in your sleep again.”

You heave a deep, slow sigh and rake your fingers through your hair. Sweat soaks the strands.

“You dream often about burying bodies, don’t you?” The male steps into the room. He flares his wings, and you try not to look at them. “You’re quite odd. I think I like it.”

“Get out, Markis.” You sigh again. “Stop watching me sleep. It’s strange.”

“Is it more or less strange than chanting about burying a body?” He smirks. “And you’re in my house, remember? You can’t tell me to get out.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my house, too, and I can.” Suddenly, Vegha is appearing. She swats her younger brother, and a slither of relief settles into you. “Stop bugging her, Markis. Go to the training rings, or something.”

Markis so clearly doesn’t want to leave. He eyes you, his gaze falling from your neck, down to the old, threadbare sweater that you’ve been sleeping in. It’s Azriel’s — still smells like him.

The intensity of the male’s gaze is uncomfortable. And after a week of tolerating it, you’re not sure you can any longer.

“Fine.” He swallows down a bite of apple. He sends you a leering smirk. “I’ll tell your friends you said hello.”

Vegha rolls her eyes. “Markis, just leave before I boil your entire head—

“I’m going, I’m going.”

The male strides out of the room, shooting you one last look over his shoulder. You should ignore it, because the idiot is just basking in the novelty of having a female under his roof that he’s not related to, but the discomfort has sunk itself under your skin, and you’re not sure you can live with it.

Which is a bit of a problem, considering there are no other avenues for you to explore, and have nowhere else to go.

Vegha shuts the door behind her brother and turns to you. “You slept fitfully again.”

“Yes.” You feel a little bad admitting it. It’s not her, nor her family home, nor the bed that’s the problem. It’s you. All you. “I have a lot on my mind.”

“Of course, you do. I wish there was more I could do to help.”

“You’ve done more than enough, Vegha.”

She doesn’t look convinced. The worried streak in her eyes is an indicator of how terrible you look. And you know she’s just caring for you as your friend, but you can’t stand it. One more pitying glance may push you over the edge.

“I have to get to the crèche.” She tells you. “Can I get you anything before I leave?”

“No—thank you.” You sit up. “Listen…I won’t be here when you return home. I’m getting out of your hair today.”

She pauses. Studies you. “You’re not in my hair. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. Ignore Markis — he’s a cock.”

You breathe a soft laugh. But you can’t ignore Markis — not any longer. Just as you haven’t been able to ignore any of the males who have made the past week even more difficult than it already was.

Illyrian males are…are a sickness. They’re bred in violence and depravity. So few of them are good.

And if the past week without Azriel, Rhys and Cassian has taught you anything, it’s that to some degree, your exposure to such behaviours has always been muted, thanks to their protection. They’ve been a strong unit around you since you were eleven years old. Most males have been wise enough to steer clear and escape the wrath that would come down on them for messing with you.

But now you’re forbidden from seeing them, and you’re free game for any fucking male in this gods-forsaken place.

You need to be away from them. To be on your own.

“I know.” You answer Vegha. “And I appreciate you opening your home to me, I really do. But it’s fine — I’ve made other arrangements.”

The look she gives you is dubious. She doesn’t believe you, and rightfully so — it’s total bullshit. “You have?”

“I have.” You dip your chin. “I’ll be just fine.”

“…well I’m glad to hear it. You’ll come right back here if those plans fall through, right?”

“Of course I will.” No.

She hesitates at the door. She’s been nothing but kind and accommodating to you — a real friend.

But it’s bad enough not being able to escape the males that haunt your dreams. There’s a damn good reason for you staunchly refusing to return to your father. You will not swap one monster for another.

“I’ll see you soon, then.” Vegha studies you. There’s a sadness in her brown eyes. She genuinely cares. “Take care, Y/N.”

“I will.” You force a breezing smile. “And you, also.”

She inclines her head, and then she’s slipping out of the room. The silence only gives way for your too-near dreams to dig their claws in. You scrub your hands harshly over your face and push to your feet.

You don’t know where you’ll go. It’s tempting to ignore Lord Devlon’s warning and race back to the cottage. Drama may await you there — a total mess that you somewhat made for yourself — but at least you’d be warm and safe while facing it.

You can’t — you know you can’t. You don’t want Az or Cass or Rhys to face any consequences.

So after you get yourself ready and gather what little stuff you have, you head out into the snow and hope you won’t be sleeping in it that night.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Azriel strikes at the sparring dummy as if it fucked his wife and stole his seat at the dinner table.

The damn things are supposed to be bolted to the ground, but a couple of bolts are no match against the fearsome shadowsinger.

He strikes and strikes until the object is more or less obliterated, because fuck the sparring dummy, that’s why. Fuck the sparring dummy, and fuck Lord Devlon, and fuck—

“I think you made your point.” A trilling voice cuts through his red mist of rage. “How about you set the sword down and have some water?”

Perhaps it’s just Azriel’s anger thinking for him, but he doesn’t feel that Kaeda has been particularly helpful from where she’s perched atop a smooth rock. She cleans her nails with the tip of a dagger and stretches her wings out around her.

Across the ring, Cassian watches and turns to Rhysand. “Why is she allowed to be here, but Y/N isn’t?”

Rhys shrugs his tense shoulders. He doesn’t know the answer.

The two of them step closer to where their brother is trying to breathe through his fury. He’s not coping so well.

See, Azriel has experience with missing things. He misses his mother all the time. Sometimes it’s a dull ache, manageable amongst the mundane comings and goings of life. Other times, it hurts so bad that he doesn’t think clawing his chest open would be too extreme a reaction. Missing a person is a sensation that knits itself under his skin and seeps into the marrow of his bones. It’s relentless and hideous.

Missing Y/N is a new kind of torture he never contemplated having to face.

It’s not just that he’s worried about where she is, whether or not she’s safe and well. It’s that he misses the silliest, tiniest things about her that he didn’t even know he’d ever noticed in the first damn place. The rapt determination with which she cuts the crusts off her bread because that’s a little too much bread for her. The way she gestures wildly with her hands whilst passionately talking about things. That ruined, tattered journal she carries around in which she scrawls blunt, one-sentenced, sometimes unintelligible thoughts. And her scent — gods, her scent.

It has been one week — an amount of time he’s spent away from her before. But it’s different this time. This isn’t like being away on a training exercise and knowing he’ll soon be coming home. He knows nothing. Doesn’t even know what to think, what to feel.

Other than an overt urge to murder the camp lord. Violently.

“How about we get done here and head to the mead hall?” Kaeda breaks through his warring thoughts. “I’m starved.”

Az grabs a nearby rag, wiping the sweat from his face. “Not really hungry.”

There’s a pause. And then a soft sigh leaves the female. She sheathes her blade and pushes to her feet, just as Rhys and Cassian are approaching. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, Azriel, but you can’t be visiting my father with this attitude.”

At once, this grabs the other two males’ interests, and Azriel wants to groan. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s this?” Rhys frowns, staring between Az and Kaeda. “You’re returning to Fenlaros?”

“My father invited Azriel to dine with us, that’s all.” Kaeda answers for him.

It had genuinely slipped Azriel’s mind. Amongst everything else waging war in his thoughts, a dinner with Kaeda’s family in Fenlaros had sunk right to the bottom.

But he knows immediately how it looks. That he’s being secretive.

Rhys studies Azriel closely. “And you’ve cleared this with Devlon?”

No, no he hadn’t. Quite simply, he’s not sure he can be within twenty feet of the bastard, right now, without throttling him.

He hates himself for it — he really, truly does. But for the sake of sparing himself a lecture, he shrugs. “I have.”

He does not lie to his brothers. And they can smell that lie on him right away.

Cassian stares at Kaeda for a long moment, before turning towards Az. “That is a fucking terrible idea, and you know it.”

“It’s dinner.” Kaeda shoots back.

Cass grits his teeth. “I’m talking to Azriel.”

“Listen, Cassian—”

“Excuse me—I’m sorry to interrupt.”

All four of them turn in the direction of the intrusion —and they stop short.

All three of the males know Vegha, of course. Rhys was grateful that she’d so willingly opened her home to Y/N when he’d asked. But other than that, they’ve only spoken to her in passing — she’s never had reason to seek them out before.

But what adds a slither of urgency to her rare appearance at the training rings is the even rarer appearance of the two little girls who hold her hands. They’re not supposed to be here, and Vegha knows this well.

She obviously deemed whatever this is urgent enough to bypass that rule.

“Vegha.” Azriel steps forward, studying her closely. “Is all well?”

Vegha shifts on her feet, clutching tighter onto the girls’ hands. She’s never comfortable here, around all these males, but it’s a different unwanted attention that makes her want to turn and leave.

Kaeda eyes her head to toe with a look of distaste. Of mistrust. She folds her arms and flares her wings — a gesture that has the little girls gasping.

“Settle down.” Vegha squeezes their hands. She directs her attention back to the males. Strange, that she feels more comfortable with them than she does with the only other female present. “Honestly, Azriel, I’m not at all sure.”

Rhys steps forward. “Is it Y/N?”

Cassian swears — swears — that a small sigh comes from behind him. From Kaeda.

“I know you’ve been instructed to stay away, and I don’t wish to cause you any trouble.” Vegha tells them. “It’s just…well, she was staying at my home this past week, as you asked, Rhysand. I told her she was welcome for as long as she needs — that she mustn’t return to her father’s house. But just this morning, she suddenly announced that she was leaving…that she’d found somewhere else to stay.”

“And?” The word slips from Kaeda’s lips.

Yeah, Cass definitely isn’t in the mood for this today.

“And…and I’m not sure I believe her.” Vegha shrugs slowly. “My brother wasn’t exactly making it a pleasant stay, and I think she was desperate to get out of there. But I can’t imagine where she’d go. I just…thought I should tell you. You know her better than I do.”

True — except her three closest friends can’t imagine where she’d go, either, if not back to her father’s house. And they can’t imagine her resorting to that.

She has no money for a room at an inn. She doesn’t have a long list of friends who will open their homes up to her. And she most certainly can’t go back to Rhys’s mother’s cottage.

So…where? Will she pitch up in one of the abandoned tents across the camp? Will she spend her nights shivering in doorways and wondering where her next meal is coming from?

This is fucking ridiculous.

She can’t be left to live like this.

“You did the right thing, telling us.” Rhys reassures Vegha. He offers a gentle, soft smile to the girls at her sides. “How about you take these two back into the warm? We’ll deal with it.”

Gods, he’s already a High Lord through and through. Calm in the face of turmoil. Not letting on to his inner panic.

Vegha dips her chin. “Sorry, again, for interrupting.” She tugs gently at the children’s’ hands. “Come, girls.”

Rhysand’s brow furrows. Vegha is perhaps the only other good friend Y/N has in this place. There’s no way she’s made other arrangements — Rhys knows it. Cassian knows it. Azriel knows it.

“We’ve got to do something.” Azriel voices what they’re all thinking, a feral panic colouring his tone. “We can’t just leave her to face this on her own. Fuck what Devlon says. I’m not sitting back and letting her freeze or starve to death.”

Rhys chews his lip. “…I can try to speak with my father. But I’m not hopeful where he’s concerned. This falls under Devlon’s jurisdiction.”

“All Y/N needs is a roof over her head and some food in her belly until we can work out what to do next.” Cassian crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s got to be some way we can help. Is there not any clue of where she might go?”

The two males are looking at Az expectantly. If anyone knows, it’s him.

But he’s just…he’s not had his eye on the ball recently. His thoughts are all over the place. Perhaps he’s neglected his friendships a little — because he could swear he knows Y/N inside and out, and yet his mind is blank. Utterly fucking blank.

“I—I need to think.” He runs a hand through his hair, turning — he stops at the flash of red hair that meets him. He’d forgotten Kaeda was even there.

She stares between them, saying nothing, her face pinched and arms crossed. What she’s thinking, Az isn’t sure. But a thought suddenly strikes him.

“Kaeda.” He faces her properly. “Can’t you house Y/N in Fenlaros for the time being? Until this is sorted?”

Kaeda stops short. Blinks at him. “…What?”

“It doesn’t have to be your home, or…or even anything extravagant. Just somewhere she can sleep. There are surely more options in Fenlaros than there are here.”

Kaeda does not like this one bit. A negative reaction is rippling off her in waves, and it hits Cassian like a blast of cold air. Rhys, too.

But Az seems oblivious.

“Azriel…” The female keeps her voice calm, measured. “You know it isn’t that easy. A person can’t just…defect to another camp.”

“She wouldn’t—”

“So what’s your excuse?” The words are falling from Cassian’s lips before he can stop himself. He’s not sure he cares.

Kaeda pauses. Her face is a sheet of wide-eyed innocence as she turns to him. “Pardon me?”

Cass shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve been buzzing around here for months like a fly. What’s your excuse, if that’s not allowed? Because your father may be Lord of Fenlaros, sweetheart, and he may let you do whatever you want, but look around you. This is Windhaven. His word doesn’t mean shit here.”

Azriel takes a step towards him. “Cassian—”

“Either help our friend, or stay the fuck out of it—”

“Cassian, that is enough—”

“It’s fine, Azriel.” Kaeda’s voice is so deceptively warm, you could melt butter on it. She steps towards Cassian, face open, hands held up in a placating manner. “It’s fine. You’re right. I understand you’re upset, and I…I apologise if my presence here has been burdensome. Of course I’ll help any way that I can. I’ll talk to my father right away.”

Cass doesn’t feel particularly satisfied by that. Doesn’t believe a fucking word, to be honest. His eyes communicate that as he stares the female up and down.

“Cass, I think you should apologise.” Azriel says.

He barks a laugh. “No chance.”

“Kaeda just said she’d help—”

“Enough.” Rhys finally jumps in. His tone is laced with authority — just a smidgen of an idea of what he might one day be like as High Lord. He crosses his arms and glares the three of them down as though they’re bickering younglings. “Arguing back and forth will do nothing to help Y/N. We need to act. I will speak to my father. Kaeda will speak to hers. Az, you should see if you can find out where Y/N might have gone. Cass, I want you making sure she doesn’t go anywhere near her fucking father’s house. By the end of the day, we should have at least sorted something. Understood?”

Cass doesn’t look away from Kaeda. He can see her eye twitching — the way she so desperately wants to push back against being ordered. Gods, how Az can’t see right through her, he has no clue—

“Understood.” Azriel answers without hesitation. “I’ll get right on it.”

Rhys inclines his head. “As will I.”

“And I’ll head back to Fenlaros.” Kaeda adds.

Cassian merely shrugs. “Fine.”

Without goodbyes, Azriel is shooting into the skies — probably hoping to get an aerial view of a sodden, freezing Y/N traipsing through the snow.

Rhys looks between Cassian and Kaeda for a beat longer before he disappears, winnowing — Cass assumes — straight to Velaris.

And then there were two.

Kaeda turns back to Cass. The doe-eyed look on her face is instantly gone. There’s a hint of a damn smirk.

“Whatever game you’re playing at,” Cassian clenches his jaw. “You will not win.”

A soft hiccup of a laugh escapes the redhead. “Oh, yes I will.” She steps closer. Close enough for her cotton-and-powder scent to envelop the male. “See, I always get what I want. Always.”

“Not this time. Azriel may not see you for the viper that you are, but I do.” He grits his teeth. “And I will fucking destroy you before you cause any damage.”

Green eyes glitter back at him. The female is unperturbed by the threat — and she knows he means it. There’s even a change in her scent that makes Cassian’s nostrils flare. A darker one. A muskier one.

“Oh, Cassian, I do hope so.” She says, and pushes up so her lips are at his ear. Her full breasts brush his chest. “I love a male who’s willing to punish me.”

She winnows away before the snarl has a chance to claw up Cassian’s throat.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

This is starting to feel like a bad idea.

It was easy, from the warmth and comfort of Vegha’s home, to convince yourself you’d be fine out amongst the wilds of the camp. But the old armoury is dark, dingy and cold, and within hours, you’re not sure you have the resolve for a single night there. Let alone however many you have ahead of you.

This used to be a place of mischief, when you and your friends were children. This far end of the camp has sat abandoned and unused for years, after newer, more effective training rings were installed where the hub of activity now lays. The four of you would spend days here, playing pretend with the old, wooden practice swords that were left behind. You’d make up stories of the area being haunted by the ghost of an ancient, disgruntled Camp Lord. And as you got older, it became a place to come and get drunk, to speak words and secrets that remained there, never to be carried away with you.

You won’t be bothered here, you know — nobody ventures this way. But that, and the fact that the old armoury affords you a roof over your head, are about the only positives. You’re so cold that it hurts. You’re hungry and miserable and tired in a way that has nothing to do with nightmare-filled sleeps.

And gods, you miss your friends. You miss them so much, it‘s a gnawing ache. All those nights you took for granted, tucked up warm in the cottage, Cassian making you all laugh with his antics. Those times seem so distant, now. Is this how it will be, from now on? Never did you think you’d be separated from your friends. And you don’t even know if this is a permanent thing. Will you have to wait and wait until Rhysand is High Lord and able to make decisions, before you can see them again?

These thoughts will do you no good. They’ll only make you colder and drive you to shed tears that you’re not sure you have the energy to shed.

You bundle in your blanket, squeezing your eyes shut as though that fruitless act will shield you from the cold. You were tempted to build a fire, but the last thing you want is to draw attention from anyone flying above. Being found in here will just bring you more trouble you don’t need.

You’re already hunched as it is, gloved hands buried under your armpits — but you somehow manage to tense even more when you hear the distinct sound of boots traipsing through the snow outside.

No.

You can’t do this — not right now. Nobody fucking comes here. Is the Mother laughing at you from above and sprinkling more misfortune into your already-dire existence? You can’t handle a confrontation, can’t handle being told you can’t stay here—

But the door creaks open, and it’s Azriel’s face that peers around cautiously. You almost sob with relief.

“Thank fuck.” He breathes. He’s slipping inside, shutting the door behind him. In a few great strides, he’s in front of you and dropping to his knees. “Are you alright?”

If you speak, you might crack. You risk it all the same. “How did you find me?”

“Took me a while to think of this place, I must admit. It’s been a long while since we were last here.”

But find you, he did. And fuck, his scent and natural warmth are swarming you. It feels like nothing else matters right then. Just you and him, like it’s always been. He yanks you into a hug, and you don’t stop him.

“You’re frozen.” He whispers, squeezing you. His gloved hands rub at your arms, your back, your shoulders. He pulls away to cup your face, and he studies every inch of it. You’re not sure what for.

But you stare back. You don’t know what to do or say. That could be the cold making it difficult to think, or it could be this weird wedge between you that feels like it’s only growing.

Az leans closer, and he presses his forehead against yours. “I miss you.” His gloves brush over your cheeks. “Gods, I miss you. So much.”

“I miss you, too.” You shudder. The words are weighty and truthful, not just referring to this past week apart, but to whatever has been going on for a while, now. You didn’t mean for it to be like this. You just want to go back to how it was.

“I’ve thought about nothing else—” His nose bumps against yours, and one of his hands slides to the nape of your neck, kneading the skin there. “I just—just need you close to me, Y/N. Always.”

You attempt a breathy laugh. “I don’t think Devlon would agree with that.”

“Fuck, Devlon. We’re going to get around this. Rhys is going to talk to his father, and even if that fails, Kaeda is talking to hers. I reckon they’ll be able to offer you sanctuary in Fenlaros until this is sorted—”

You pull back to blink at him. Study him. “What?”

“I asked Kaeda to speak with her father on your behalf. To see if they can find somewhere for you to stay. I’m sure they can—”

“Azriel, I’m not going to Fenlaros.”

He pauses. “…If they’ll have you, Y/N, yes you are. It means you’ll be safe and warm and fed—”

“No.”

“What? Why?”

“Besides the fact that I’m already in enough trouble thanks to that place?” You pull away from him, easing to your feet. “I don’t know anyone there. And if Devlon were to find out—”

“Stop worrying about Devlon and start worrying about your safety.” Azriel, too, stands. “It’s the most logical thing.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Y/N.”

“I’m not going further away from you than I already am, and I’m especially not going to start playing house with your lover, Azriel, it’s odd—”

“That’s what this is about?” He cocks an eyebrow. Folds his arms. “Because you don’t want to accept help from Kaeda?”

You shrug. And just…just to give your body something to do, you begin pacing. “I’m not sure it would be very helpful at all.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You just don’t like her, do you?” He snaps. The sound is harsh, and it makes you grit your teeth. “You’re not willing to accept help that you so clearly fucking need, because you don’t like Kaeda.”

“I don’t trust Kaeda.” You whirl around to face him. “Not one fucking bit, and you shouldn’t, either.”

“Why?”

“Because none of it makes sense! Why is she here in Windhaven, Azriel? What is it she actually wants?”

It’s dangerous — the way your voices are rising in volume and echoing around the armoury. But it’s as though weeks of emotional buildup are floating to the surface, and you can’t stop them, and they’re stoking an anger that actually warms you and feels better than being cold and hungry.

Azriel shakes his head. “You’re fucking impossible sometimes, you know that? You don’t want to help yourself. It’s like you’re determined to make your life as difficult as possible, and when you’re offered help, you don’t take it. You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, Azriel, maybe I am.” You snap back. “But at least I’m not lying through my teeth like Kaeda is, and at least I don’t break my damn promises.”

Azriel stops short. Stares at you.

You and he both know you’re referring to Solstice Night. You should have confronted it before, but…but you buried it.

You’re not sure you can do that anymore.

Azriel purses his lips. And then has the nerve to state, “Things are different between you and I these days.”

“Yes.” You stare back at him. “They are.”

Your eyes are trying to communicate so much. Things are different, and it might be the boundaries you crossed, but you’re more certain than anything that it’s Kaeda’s influence. You just don’t understand why Azriel can’t see it.

You wonder what he might say yet. So much anger and pent-up frustration zips between you. Mixed with longing and missing each other. Loving each other. Wanting to scream at each other, and for each other.

And part of you wants him to spit vicious words and fight back, just for you to feel something — even though you know that’s not Azriel’s style. But you stare and stare, and neither of you speak, and then Az is shaking his head and clenching his jaw.

“I’m not arguing with you here.” He says. “It’ll only draw attention to us.”

You fold your arms. “Fine.”

“I’m going to speak to Rhys, find out what his father said. And I’ll speak to Kaeda—”

“Go right ahead. I’m still not stepping foot back in Fenlaros—”

“And I’ll bring you some blankets and food. Or Cassian will. Or…whatever.” He stops still for a second, swallowing. “But we need to fix this shit between us.”

You know that. But you’re so fucking stubborn, your own worst enemy. And right then, you want to scream. Cry. Hurt him how he hurt you.

So you say nothing. You just shrug again.

He stares, as if waiting for a better reaction. And then he shakes his head once more and turns, striding back to the door. You wonder if it’s a bad thing to let him go, like this. When will you see him again? How will things be when you see him again? You’re making it worse for yourself, for him, for both of you.

You open your mouth — to say what, you’re not sure. But you’re stopped by Az pausing with his hand on the doorknob. With his back to you, his shoulders tense. He’s frozen in place.

And then he speaks — growls — two words. “Fuck this.”

He turns, marching back over to you so fast, you don’t have time to react.

And then he’s grabbing your face, and his mouth is on yours.

azriel tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd

1K notes · View notes

nerdgirlnarrates · 2 months

Text

Even though it's been months since I switched from neurosurgery to internal medicine, I still have a hard time not being angry about the training culture and particularly the sexism of neurosurgery. It wasn't the whole reason I switched, but truthfully it was a significant part of my decision.

I quickly got worn out by constantly being questioned over my family plans. Within minutes of meeting me, attendings and residents felt comfortable lecturing me on the difficulties of having children as a neurosurgeon. One attending even suggested I should ask my co-residents' permission before getting pregnant so as not to inconvenience them. I do not have children and have never indicated if I plan to have any. Truthfully, I do want children, but I would absolutely have foregone that to be a neurosurgeon. I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than anything. But I was never asked: it was simply assumed that I would want to be a mother first. Purely because I'm a woman, my ambitions were constantly undermined, assumed to be lesser than those of my male peers. Women must want families, therefore women must be less committed. It was inconceivable that I might put my career first. It was impossible to disprove this assumption: what could I have done to demonstrate my commitment more than what I had already done by leading the interest group, taking a research year, doing a sub-I? My interest in neurosurgery would never be viewed the same way my male peers' was, no matter what I did. I would never be viewed as a neurosurgeon in the same way my male peers would be, because I, first and foremost, would be a mother. It turns out women don't even need to have children to be a mother: it is what you essentially are. You can't be allowed to pursue things that might interfere with your potential motherhood.

Furthermore, you are not trusted to know your own ambitions or what might interfere with your motherhood. I am an adult woman who has gone to medical school: I am well aware of what is required in reproduction, pregnancy, and residency, as much as one can be without experiencing it firsthand. And yet, it was always assumed that I had somehow shown up to a neurosurgery sub-I totally ignorant of the demands of the career and of pregnancy. I needed to be enlightened: always by men, often by childless men. Apparently, it was implausible that I could evaluate the situation on my own and come to a decision. I also couldn't be trusted to know what I wanted: if I said I wanted to be a neurosurgeon more than a mother, I was immediately reassured I could still have a family (an interesting flip from the dire warnings issued not five minutes earlier in the conversation). People could not understand my point, which was that I didn't care. I couldn't mean that, because women are fundamentally mothers. I needed to be guided back to my true role.

Because everyone was so confident in their sexist assumptions that I was less committed, I was not offered the same training, guidance, or opportunities as the men. I didn't have projects thrown my way, I didn't get check-ins or advice on my application process, I didn't get opportunities in the OR that my male peers got, I didn't get taught. I once went two whole days on my sub-I without anyone saying a word to me. I would come to work, avoid the senior resident I was warned hated trainees, figure out which OR to go to on my own, scrub in, watch a surgery in complete silence without even the opportunity to cut a knot, then move to the next surgery. How could I possibly become a surgeon in that environment? And this is all to say nothing of the rape jokes, the advice that the best way for a woman to match is to be as hot as possible, listening to my attending advise the male med students on how to get laid, etc.

At a certain point, it became clear it would be incredibly difficult for me to become a neurosurgeon. I wouldn't get research or leadership opportunities, I wouldn't get teaching or feedback, I wouldn't get mentorship, and I wouldn't get respect. I would have to fight tooth and nail for every single piece of my training, and the prospect was just exhausting. Especially when I also really enjoyed internal medicine, where absolutely none of this was happening and I even had attendings telling me I would be good at it (something that didn't happen in neurosurgery until I quit).

I've been told I should get over this, but I don't know how to. I don't know how to stop being mad about how thoroughly sidelined I was for being female. I don't know how to stop being bitter that my intelligence, commitment, and work ethic meant so much less because I'm a woman. I know I made the right decision to switch to internal medicine, and it probably would have been the right decision even if there weren't all these issues with the culture of neurosurgery, but I'm still so angry about how it happened.

#I would love to do something about this but I have no idea how to #even the faculty that I do really admire and respect seem entrenched in some of these attitudes #it's really hard to convince people that women aren't traitors in the making #simply because we might get pregnant one day and need time off #oh I also heard people shittalking a resident that was on maternity leave #and saying she wasn't serious about neurosurgery #so it's just inevitable #I'm not the only female student that feels this way btw #there's a reason no women have applied to nsgy from my school in years #sexism #neurosurgery #surgery #medicine #medical school #med school #med student #medblr #my content #my text posts

574 notes · View notes

aphroditelovesu · 2 months

Note

Hello, can you do a headcannon Yandere (father) King Henry and Yandere (mother) Anna Boleyn with their only surviving son?

❝ 👑 — lady l: I really like the idea of them being platonic yanderes for a son, so I hope you like it! Forgive me for any mistakes and good reading! ❤️

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, overprotection, mention of miscarriages, murder and implied cheating and toxic relationships.

❝👑pairing: platonic yandere!henry viii/anne boleyn x son!reader.

Anne was desperate to conceive a male heir, her only hope of staying alive and maintaining the interest of the King who, after some miscarriages and the birth of a daughter, has already began to wander towards one of her ladies-in-waiting.

So when she discovered a new pregnancy, she desperately prayed for a son and that she wouldn't suffer another miscarriage. She could not bear the loss and pain. Henry was pleased with the new pregnancy, but worried. Anne had already had several miscarriages and was only able to produce one healthy child, a daughter.

Anne took great care of herself during her pregnancy, taking care of what she ate and drank and trying to maintain good health. The first few months were the most tense, with fear enveloping both Anne and Henry. As the pregnancy progressed and there was no miscarriage, Anne became more confident.

When the day finally arrived to give birth, she was anxious. Henry was also anxious and he was so nervous when he heard Anne screaming outside the room, he didn't know what to think. When a baby's cries finally came after what seemed like hours, he entered the room.

Anne held her baby on her lap and cried softly and when a doctor approached Henry and said, "Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have an heir", it was the first time that Henry felt complete happiness. When he picked you up, he was smiling from ear to ear. Not only were you the much-desired male heir but you also saved your mother's head.

Both of them would be extremely overprotective of their only son and those close to you will be scrutinized. Henry has become very paranoid about your safety and takes every precaution possible.

You are always by your mother or father's side, you cannot be alone at any time with a stranger. Anne, especially, would like to keep you sewn to her side all the time. She cares about you a lot and is always checking up on you. When you get sick, she becomes paranoid that you will die.

You are your parents' greatest pride and Henry doesn't try to hide it. He neglects all his other children and gives you all his love and affection. He takes you for walks, hunting and spoils you with all the perks that a future King deserves. In addition to showing you off before the Court. After all, you are the future King.

They are both very proud of anything you do. Any milestone, no matter how small, will be applauded by them. Your first words, the first time you walked and everything else will be treated with great celebration. Expensive parties are thrown in your honor all the time.

As you grow up, they become even more overprotective and controlling. Anne does not want you to leave the Court under any circumstances and Henry allows you to do so, but only with many guards. There were many threats lurking and they couldn't let anything happen to you. May God forbid anything from happening to you as the results will be disastrous.

Anne hates it when you spend time with other people, especially if they are women. The only women you need in your life are your mother and your older sister, Elizabeth. Although she understands that's a part of a man's life, she still doesn't like it and any potential mistress or love interest will be dealt with quickly. She is your mother, so no one has more right to you than her.

Henry is more than aware of his wife's actions and although he doesn't encourage them, he doesn't reprimand her. In fact, he's probably the one who encourages you to enjoy your life even if it always leads to fights with Anne. It was worth it when you looked happy. And your happiness is very important to him.

Your potential friends will be scrutinized and if your parents don't like them, they will leave. Henry and Anne won't sentence them to death at first, but if you or they are stubborn, they will be tried for treason. Don't you understand that you shouldn't trust anyone other than your own family? Your parents are the only ones who want the best for you.

Henry and Anne are smothering and protective parents but they only have your best interests at heart. They want you to live a full and happy life, but with them by your side. You were everything they both wanted and they would be damned if they let anything happen to you. England still does not know the fury of its monarchs nor the overwhelming love they feel for their only son.

#yandere history #history #the tudors #yandere historical characters #yandere the tudors #yandere henry viii #yandere anne boleyn #Platonic yandere henry viii #platonic yandere anne boleyn #x male reader #headcanons #yandere headcanons #henry viii #anne boleyn #platonic yandere

434 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 10 months

Note

Now imagine this...

What if... Reader were miles spouse right? (Male/gn)

And Prowler miles spouse (reader) died right.and when reader and miles met prowler miles, Would they. A. fight over reader. B. prowler would force reader to be with him and C. they share. (WHICH i highly doubt.)

And prowler is a bit of a yandere (if thtas alright)

What do you think? Can you make either a fanfic/headcanon/scenario? If you don't mind of course :))

-🥚anon

Miles Morales and Miles G x Black Cat Male Reader

Headcanons

Both Miles are aged up in this scenario, giving miles more time to be Spiderman. I hope I got the yandere part right hehe.

I just love Black Cat, so i had too. Let me know if you guys wanna hear about my Kraven Reader or Venom reader ideas ;3c i have so many ideas about the reader being based on spiderman villains.

You were earth 1610s Black Cat. You had grown up side by side with Miles, and as you grew up your body developed the meta-gene, causing you to gain the ability to affect probability fields to others. Aka, you are able to give people bad luck.

You didn’t quite like using your powers too much, and one of the few people who knew about it was Miles. You couldn’t help but use it on bad people though, like bullies or abusers.

You hadn’t always been Black Cat, but after your parents had a horrible divorce and you were abandoned with your mother with your father leaving with all the family’s money, you turned towards the world of crime.

The Morales family had of course offered to help your mother as she struggled, but she was too proud to accept it. Rio and Jeff ended up helping in ways she wouldn’t be able to turn down, like bringing you guys meals, or giving you Miles’s old clothes.

The new Spiderman hadn’t been around long before you became the Black Cat, and you two developed a relationship similar to Peter and Felecia. Lotsa flirting and chasing each other around the city with games and puzzles.

Of course, neither of you told each other your secret identities, wanting to keep the other safe.

Then one night when you were out stealing an expensive artifact, spiderman hung upside down from his webs and tsked at you, telling you to put the artifact back. Of course, with your relationship being so flirty, you tell him you’ll do it for a kiss.

And to both your surprise and miles’, he actually does it. he pulls his mask up enough to reveal his lips, and you two have a spiderman kiss right then and there.

Its only after you pulls away that you realize you recognize those lips, since you’ve always carried a flame for your best friend. One thing leads to another, and you put back the artifact and have spiderman chase you onto the roof where you take your mask off.

You both end up taking your masks off and revealing your identities to one another. It leads to a very long conversation why you both do what you do, and how it doesn’t change your relationship from what it was before.

That is until Miles ends up confessing that has always liked you a whole lot, both as Miles and Spiderman. When you shyly tell him you feel the same, he doesn’t believe it at first, until you kiss him again.

After that you two start dating, much to your parents joy, as they’ve always known you two had a thing for one another. Of course, Black Cat still steals, and Spiderman still tries to stop him, but if Black Cat starts only stealing from the corrupt, who’s gonna connect the dots?

Then everything with the multiverse happens, except you follow Miles through the portal, thanks to a gadget you’ve created that helps you become invisible and untrackable. You also have a grappling gun you use similar to webbing, so you can swing from the spider alliance.

When you reveal yourself to help Miles escape, a lot of the spider people are shocked, because they have their own Black Cat, that they have a relationship with of some sort. This allows you and Miles a headstart.

During the chase you use your meta powers on the people chasing you as well, making a lot of them trip or fumble, or be affected in other ways by bad luck.

When you end up on earth 42 neither of you realize it, too focused on saving Jeff to notice until its too late. You have a bad vibe, and stay hidden when Aaron arrives, following the two up onto the roof.

Miles G is able to see you even though you are invisible, thanks to the prowler gadgets, so both you and Miles are knocked out, and brought back to Aaron’s apartment since you’re both too distracted looking at the mural, which features both Jeff and you.

You were wearing your mask when you and Miles got caught, so when Miles G unmasks you back in Aaron’s apartment be drops it onto the floor almost immediately.

Miles G doesn’t know how to react to seeing your face again, Aaron has to get his attention because he’s just staring at you, maybe caressing your cheek so carefully with the clawed prowler gauntlets.

Miles G knows you aren’t his version of you, as you never had the chance to become Black Cat in this universe, having died too early to use your powers to start stealing. Your parents still divorced in this universe, but they used your death as the main reason.

Miles G grows a little obsessed with keeping you, as he doesn’t want to lose you again. Aaron just shakes his head as he watches his nephew dress you out of your Black Cat gear and into some of the clothes Miles G owns, because the you of earth 42 always wore his clothes.

Hed place you on the couch in the room, not wanting to lose sight of you, but also to maybe convince you that his doppelganger isn’t good enough, and you’ll want to stay with Miles G.

Miles would wake up first thanks to his accelerated healing, and the scene happens like in the movie where he tries to convince Aaron to free him, and he meets Miles G. That’s when Miles realizes you aren’t there and starts to panic, until Miles G turns the punching bag so Miles can see you unconscious on the couch.

It would lead to anger and fear in Miles, him cursing at Miles G and demanding him to let you go and asking what the hell he did to you. When he learns Miles G undressed you when you were unconscious Miles gets enraged.

You would have woken up by then, but played unconscious, trying to figure out what to do in this situation since all your gear was taken from you. But before you can really cook up a plan, Miles breaks free and the two start to fight.

When Aaron tries to step in, you jump up and kick him unconscious. Thanks to all the running and parkour you do, you have a very strong kick, which knocks the guy out cold immediately.

Using Aarons gun you shoot it at Miles G, since he’s the obvious threat in your eyes, and Miles G looks completely betrayed at you turning on him. He’s convinced himself you’re his and would choose him, so seeing you choose Miles breaks his heart and enrages him.

The fighting would continue, and at some point, Miles G would have you in his arms held against his chest, claws wrapped around your throat and ready to tear it out if Miles tries anything.

Everything is frozen as Miles G kisses at your neck and nibbles at your ear, muttering almost obsessively about you and how he’s missed you so much, how much he loves you, how empty he’s felt since you died.

You can’t help but pity him, because he seems so broken and sad without his version of you around. That doesn’t make you wanna stay though, as you guys need to go save Jeff and go back to your own dimension.

And though it makes your heart hurt to do, you use this to your advantage. Miles Gs guard crumbles when you turn and kiss him, his hands coming up to cradle your face almost desperately, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on for dear life.

You can feel the claws dig into your face and draw blood, but the distraction works perfectly, and Miles is able to knock him unconscious. Miles might hit him a little too hard, but he would excuse it on adrenaline later.

After you guys tie the two up and you get your Black Cat gear back on, Miles would push you up against the wall and kiss the breath right out of your lungs. Everything that’s happened has him feeling possessive and like he needs to overwrite the kiss you had with Miles G earlier.

Before you guys leave you fold up the clothes Miles G made you wear, and because you heart aches for him since he’s a version of Miles, you kiss the top of his head and maybe even leave a video message on his phone.

Miles isn’t too happy about it, but he also feels a litter flustered because you love him so much you feel for any version of him, even the crazy ones.

After that you two leave the apartment to try and find a way back to your own earth. You wonder if the video message will have any future consequences, but you are too set on saving Jeff that you don’t really think about it.

1K notes · View notes

mo-aiki · 3 months

Text

Maximillian Black

Summary: The imperial dog, the hero of the Bloody 10 Year War, a prestigious war hero that somehow became your personal guard.

Warning: obsessive behavior, violence, slut shaming

A/N: THIS ART IS NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF I TAMED MY EX-HUSBAND'S MAD DOG.

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

A ball.

A stupid one at that.

A ball ran by the royal family for congratulatories.

How stuffy.

The amount of fake people with fake smiles that surrounded him. He hated it. He was used to these fake smiles when he was younger. Working as a stableboy for a prominent polo club before running away and becoming a knight when he was 11. Everyone around him were terrible people.

Nobles who'd kill over a horse and servants who are willing to kill for them. Money is dangerous.

He was always blamed for everything. He was the youngest and the son of a brothel whore, starving for money, in thousands of coins in debt and taken in by an old man who was a stable man himself.

If a horse wasn't as fast as one servant claimed, the servant would blame it on him.

If a horse wasn't available, he would be blamed.

If a beloved horse died, he was blamed for letting it die.

He didn't want to be stuck as a stable boy. He hated everything. To live only to be thrown under the carriage by savages, from both the poor and the rich.

But when he was 10 years old, he saw something, or more like someone. A girl. Her face, lighting up when looking at the horse. It spooked him when he was surprised by her. "I'm sorry, but I really wanted to see the horse!"

Her eyes sparkled in delight when looking at the horses. "Could I pet one, or is that not okay with you?"

He was speechless with her beauty. Her nice voice, her (e/c) eyes with glitter in them, and her kindness and asking him, even though he was a lowly stable boy. The old man spoke for him. "You can pet the horses young lady. I'm sure people you understand."

Her eyes lighted up. "Thank you Mister..."

The old man took off his hat and held it. "My name is Otto, my lady..."

She smiled, a beautiful sight for his eyes. "Thank you Mr. Otto!"

She petted the horses as he watched in awe. The laughter and the smiling face of that young girl, stuck with him as a beautiful sight.

When he ran away, Mr. Otto was on his deathbed. The only one to take him in. He had told him to run, as far as he can before he becomes like one of them.

He ran, and ran, and ran. He wanted to run away from those looking for the money from his mother. He ended up at a mercenary camp, where he learned about how to protect himself.

He spent a lot of time with them. He had a gist on how to use a sword, but it definitely improved from the mercenaries. They were kind guys but were reckless and a tad bit unhinged at times.

But something all of them brought up were women. How their dream woman would be, what they liked about women, and even the nasty parts, he all heard.

But all of it brought him back to the girl he met at the polo stables with the most beautiful smile and personality. He couldn't help but think of her often.

She had appeared and disappeared in his life, leaving him in regret of not talking to her, the first time. He can only imagine her growing up, as he grew up. He trained for days with a new goal in mind, to meet her at any cost.

The mercenary group he was apart of were sent off to war against the rivaling empire over territorial disputes 6 years after the war had started. He was, as described by his comrades, a monster on the battlefield. He was recognized by the higher ups as someone who could lead troop morale and someone who could monstrously deal with the many soldiers and the creatures that came. He had dealt with the dragon the enemy empire managed to tame with a single hit from his sword, Glamdring.

All of this came from his motivation to survive and to see her once again. He had planned on leaving to find her, but the war dragged him in. He had originally wanted to run, but he overheard the talk about the prestige it would bring to him. If that girl was a noble, maybe he would impress her with his title and newfound fame.

And thus it led him to be the monster that he was, on the battlefield.

And now back at the ball. He held onto his wine glass, dressed in something he had never worn before. A white, heavily embroidered suit with a cape and a sash of all the medals for his accomplishments in the battlefield.

He only looked in disdain as all the noble ladies around him were drooling at his fit.

He went outside for a breath of fresh air. Walking along the garden until, he got to a fountain. He then saw a woman. Her (h/c) hair, perfectly laid, her dress, well thought out, and her hand holding the wine glass of half drunken champagne. He didn't know why, but somehow he was attracted to the woman sitting on the fountain edge.

He walked closer, to be bewitched by her looks, but somehow she felt familiar. Like someone he has been longing for. He was right next to her when she got spooked and almost fell into the fountain, while he caught her before she got wet.

Guiding her up and letting go of her waist, she looked at him. "Hello, thank you for catching me at that moment. May I ask for your name? I would like to repay you..."

He smiled. "My name is Maximillian Black, what is your's my lady?"

She smiled. "My name is (y/n) (l/n). Maximillian Black..."

She seemed to ponder for a few seconds. "Ah! You're the star of the ball tonight!"

He raised his eyebrow out of sarcasm. "Am I? Really?"

She laughed. Her laugh was beautiful to his ears. It almost reminded him of the little girl he met as a stable boy.

They walked and talked. He had never had a more enjoyable time then learning about you. But all of it was interrupted when a man's voice came in. "There you are (y/n)."

He looked directly at him as the woman turned her head towards him. "I have been looking for you since you said you needed to powder your face."

The woman blushed out of embarrassment. "Oh...I seemed to have spent too long out here, Duk-"

"I told you, you can call me Augustus, (y/n)"

The man held her hand as he pushed her towards his body. "I'm your fiancé after all...", he said, looking directly at him with a cold glare.

He had never felt so pissed after that interaction.

"Maximillian Black....MAXIMILLIAN BLACK?!"

Your voice, shocked as he stood right in front of you. A couple days later after the ball, the Emperor asked him a wish he could grant. He said, "To become a guard for the (l/n) family."

"Oh? Why my boy? Wouldn't you want riches?"

To Maximillian, riches were small in comparison to her. The Emperor granted his wish, and thus he became (y/n)'s personal guard.

He is always near her or at least 5 feet away. He always enjoyed the interactions he had with you more than anything. His favorite words were always your nickname for him. "Maxi! Could you please help me pick this orange? It's a bit too high for me to reach!"

"Maxi, could you sit down with me. I'll ask Anna to come as well."

"Maxi, I can deal with it myself. Do not fret. I will be careful!"

"Maxi, have you ever read this romance book? It is so sweet!"

Your kind and tender personality, melted his cold, stoic heart. But he soon saw how there were pest around you.

First was the stupid fiancé who never let you leave his sight, but always shooed him away like he was a pest. Giving you gifts of jewels, ribbons, dresses, bows, and books, he would beat him by a long shot just from his wealth alone. He did overhear that he was a Duke after all.

Second was the childhood best friend. The son of an Earl. Nobody was closer to you both physically and mentally than him. He would cuddle with you, get lap pillows, and be cared for. He wanted nothing more than to break him in half and tear him to shreds, but couldn't from his lineage alone. He was stage extreme of clinger.

And finally, third were all the men trying to flirt with you on a daily basis. He would shoo them, glare, threaten, and maybe if kill them if they didn't listen. Didn't matter if they were a noble or a peasant, someone filthy stained your ears.

He had to get rid of them.

He was in love after all, but at the end of the day, you were still going to get married to your fiancé, that arrogant duke.

He had overheard about your plans of annulment. He felt ecstatic, but his face looked the same.

Now all he had to do was to kidnap you and take you away to a forest to live out each other lives in peace, away from those pests. Easy enough, right?

"Night time would be safer to travel with a sleeping girl in my arms. Everyone is asleep after all..."

A/N: FINALLY DONE. NOW I CAN DO COMMISSION WORK OR IF YOU WANT TO REQUEST ANOTHER TYPE OF YANDERE, I'M ALL EARS!!!!

#yandere x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male #yandere oc x reader #yandere male lead #yandere x you #tw yandere

297 notes · View notes

coochiequeens · 1 year

Text

Because large-scale organising is “almost impossible” in China, women are turning to “all kinds of alternative ways to maintain feminism in their daily lives and even develop and transfer feminism to others,” she says. These may take the form of book clubs or exercise meet-ups. Some of her friends in China organise hikes. “They say that we are feminists, we are hiking together, so when we are hiking we talk about feminism.“ - Lü Pin

To find evidence that China’s feminist movement is gaining momentum – despite strict government censorship and repression – check bookshelves, nightstands and digital libraries. There, you might find a copy of one of Chizuko Ueno’s books. The 74-year-old Japanese feminist and author of Feminism from Scratch and Patriarchy and Capitalism has sold more than a million books in China, according to Beijing Open Book, which tracks sales. Of these, 200,000 were sold in January and February alone.

Ueno, a professor of sociology at the University of Tokyo, was little known outside in China outside academia until she delivered a 2019 matriculation speech at the university in which she railed against its sexist admissions policies, sexual “abuse” by male students against their female peers, and the pressure women felt to downplay their academic achievements.

The speech went viral in Japan, then China.

“Feminist thought does not insist that women should behave like men or the weak should become the powerful,” she said. “Rather, feminism asks that the weak be treated with dignity as they are.”

In the past two years, 11 of her books have been translated into simplified Chinese and four more will be published this year. In December, two of her books were among the top 20 foreign nonfiction bestsellers in China. While activism and protests have been stifled by the government, the rapid rise in Ueno’s popularity shows that women are still looking for ways to learn more about feminist thought, albeit at a private, individual level.

Talk to young Chinese academics, writers and podcasters about what women are reading and Ueno’s name often comes up. “We like-like her,” says Shiye Fu, the host of popular feminist podcast Stochastic Volatility.

“In China we need some sort of feminist role model to lead us and enable us to see how far women can go,” she says. “She taught us that as a woman, you have to fight every day, and to fight is to survive.”

When asked by the Guardian about her popularity in China, Ueno says her message resonates with this generation of Chinese women because, while they have grown up with adequate resources and been taught to believe they will have more opportunities, “patriarchy and sexism put the burden to be feminine on them as a wife and mother”.

Ueno, who found her voice during the student power movements of the 1960s, has long argued that marriage restricts women’s autonomy, something she learned watching her own parents. She described her father as “a complete sexist”. It’s stance that resonates with women in China, who are rebelling against the expectation that they take a husband.

Ueno’s most popular book, with 65,000 reviews on Douban, is simply titled Misogyny. One review reads: “It still takes a little courage to type this. I have always been shy about discussing gender issues in a Chinese environment, because if I am not careful, I will easily attract the label of … ‘feminist cancer’.”

“Now it’s a hard time,” says Lü Pin, a prominent Chinese feminist who now lives in the US. In 2015 she happened to be in New York when Chinese authorities arrested five of her peers – who were detained for 37 days and became known as the “Feminist Five” – and came to Lü’s apartment in Beijing. She narrowly avoided arrest. “Our movement is increasingly being regarded as illegal, even criminal, in China.”

China’s feminist movement has grown enormously in the past few years, especially among young women online, says Lü, where it was stoked by the #MeToo movements around the world and given oxygen on social media. “But that’s just part of the story,” she says. Feminism is also facing much stricter censorship – the word “feminism” is among those censored online, as is China’s #MeToo hashtag, #WoYeShi.

“When we already have so many people joining our community, the government regards that as a threat to its rule,” Lü says. “So the question is: what is the future of the movement?”

“Nobody can change the micro level.”

‘The first step’

In 2001, when Lü was a journalist starting out on her journey into feminism, she founded a book club with a group of friends. She was struggling to find books on the subject, so she and her friends pooled their resources. “We were feminists, journalists, scholars, so we decided let’s organise a group and read, talk, discuss monthly,” she says. They met in people’s homes, or the park, or their offices. It lasted eight years and the members are still among her best friends.

Before the book club, “I felt lonely when I was pursuing feminism. So I need friends, I need a community. And that was the first community I had.” “I got friendship, I deepened my understanding of feminism,” Lü says. “It’s interesting, perhaps the first step of feminist movements is always literature in many countries, especially in China.”

Lü first read Ueno’s academic work as a young scholar, when few people in China knew her name. Ueno’s books are for people who are starting out on their pursuit of feminism, Lü says, and the author is good at explaining feminist issues in ways that are easy to understand.

Like many Ting Guo discovered Ueno after the Tokyo University speech. Guo, an assistant professor in the department of cultural and religious studies at the Chinese University of Hong Kong, still uses it in lectures.

Ueno’s popularity is part of a larger phenomenon, Guo says. “We cannot really directly describe what we want to say, using the word that we want to use, because of the censorship, because of the larger atmosphere. So people need to try to borrow words, mirror that experience in other social situations, in other political situations, in other contexts, in order to precisely describe their own experience, their own feelings and their own thoughts.”

There are so many people who are new to the feminist movement, says Lü, “and they are all looking for resources, but due to censorship, it’s so hard for Chinese scholars, for Chinese feminists, to publish their work.”

Ueno “is a foreigner, that is one of her advantages, and she also comes from [an] east Asian context”, which means that the patriarchal system she describes is similar to China’s. Lü says the reason books by Chinese feminists aren’t on bestseller lists is because of censorship.

Na Zhong, a novelist who translated Sally Rooney’s novels into simplified Chinese, feels that Chinese feminism is, at least when it comes to literature, gaining momentum. The biggest sign of this, both despite and because of censorship, is “the sheer number of women writers that are being translated into Chinese” – among whom Ueno is the “biggest star”.

“Young women are discovering their voices, and I’m really happy for my generation,” she says. “We’re just getting started.”

By Helen R Sullivan

This is the third story in a three-part series on feminism and literature in China.

#China #Japan #Chizuko Ueno #Books for women #Feminism from Scratch #Patriarchy and Capitalism #Misogyny #Feminist Five #Lü Pin #WoYeShi

667 notes · View notes

lxdymoon0357 · 10 months

Note

Hey hey aurelia 🥰

May i request a yandere Chamberlain siblings and Irene with a fem knight reader? Where reader is a knight of claudia from childhood but got killed by the males leads because they thought that reader is really close to claudia?

U can ignore it if you want!^^

Have a great day ☺️

(Hey Yev! Thanks for requesting this! Trigger warning: murder, hanging, etc. Yandere content also written with female reader in mind, but it is gn)

Yan! Chamberlain siblings X Knight! Reader X Yan! Irene (platonic)

☢ Irene read about you and how you were a middle class noble's daughter, your parents supported everything you do even when you asked to be a knight to your darling friend Claudia, you trained with Felix and soon you became a knight due to your hard-work and became Claudia's right-hand (wo)man!!!

☢ But you were unfortunately killed brutally by the three male leads, which made Irene very MAD obviously, you were her favourite, and then when she turned into Irene, she was destined to make sure you were safe. She didn't care what happened, you were going to be happy and her ship is going to sail!!!!

☢ You, Irene and Claudia are the most amazing trio, both Claudia and Irene ready to throw hands for you, a knight very much strong enough to kill three bears if they attacked at the same time, yeah, it is the trope of a big gentle and two small angry gremlins, it's fine, you like your two very pretty gremlins!!! You're very chaotic to be around, ngl....

☢ Felix often helps you train and Lerase is also there, he is impressed by your strength and finds you nice and entertaining and often leaves you alone when he is in control of Felix, he doesn't like to hurt, not only because he likes you a bit but also because Claudia and Irene will not leave him if he does so, does not matter if he is in Felix's body or in the demon realm...

☢ The moment, Claudia, Felix or Irene see any of the male leads even in a 100 meter radius, they are ready to rip someone to shreds, especially them who cheated you and killed you after betraying you, yes they gave you a love potion and then killed you in cold blood just like with Irene right before kidnapping Claudia...

☢ You also taught Claudia and Irene some sword fighting and self defense to protect themselves in case you aren't there, but it wasn't much of use cause you're always near them and always there to protect them and help them

☢ Claudia and Felix are very much in love with you, the siblings always fight on who will spend more time with you and Irene always win in that matter, cause she is your elder sister, does not matter if you're 100 and she is 12, she will be your ELDER SISTER!!!! She approves of the Chamberlain siblings and would allow you to date them on one condition, they keep you away from the three male leads, Lerase is also not one to back down as well....goodluck to you!

☢ Anyways, Felix and Claudia constantly flirting with you, Lerase also flirting with you late at nights, but dirty flirting with you which makes you blush and heat up and Lerase chuckles and smiles at you, for the first time in a million years, you don't know what these feelings are and oh! If you ever see them kill anyone, just walk away, pretty person~

☢ Also, Claudia, Irene and Felix killed the three male leads, if you're wondering how, Claudia flirted with them or they asked you to meet somewhere but they got the letter and then BOOM! Murdered!!!! They got their head crushed, stabbed, hanged and other things I won't mention as it is too graphic, but not like they care!!

☢ Okay, now father Chamberlain does not mind his child to be dating you, in fact he will get you married to the two underground where same sex marriage and poly marriages are allowed, so anyways, you got married to the two....Somehow, turns out it wasn't a dream....you get Irene and father and mother Chamberlain's blessings and prays, they love you!!!

☢ okay, now that you're married to Claudia and Felix, them sharing you, one thing that is frequent is, both of them will have you to themselves separately for a whole day, they're siblings and so they know how to share things well, they do get jealous at times though... It's fine, they have you on their lap, your head on your lap or them on your lap, cause they don't care and equality!!!

☢ Oh, please train in front of them in a tank top or something like that, they love your figure, does not matter if you're chubby or skinny or anything else, they find you attractive for you and your body and your great beauty was just a plus point!!

720 notes · View notes

nezuscribe · 2 years

Text

𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫

pairings: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's not expected of the head cheerleader to go to the run-down bar to watch eddie munsons' band. but it's also not expected of the two of you to ever meet. and what can eddie do, ignore his number one fan?

fic warnings (mdni 18+): reader is over 18, smut, blow jobs, messy make-outs, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, teasing, cum eating, unprotected piv, Eddie kind of having a corruption kink but when does he never

Friday nights. That’s when they play. Leather jackets, smudged eyeliner, voices all yelling in harmony as they play for their usuals, you included. Sometimes they were a bit off beat, or just completely forgot the lyrics, but it didn’t stop you from coming back every week, soda in hand as you giggled at their funny antics before and after the show.

And you’d also be lying to yourself if you thought that the only reason you were coming was because of their little jokes. Because deep down you knew that the lead guitarist had caught your eye ever since you first saw him.

You couldn’t lie, Eddie Munson was just irresistible.

And yes, by your school, (and society’s) standard, Eddie Munson was supposed to be untouchable, and not in a good way. You were supposed to avoid him like the plague, pretend like his sort never existed, and get along with your day. He was satanic, or so your mother would say as she angrily chopped her vegetables, and was the leader of your highschools so-called “cult”.

You called bull, but you knew it would take a lot more than logical thinking to convince the town of Hawkins that the Hellfire Club didn’t exactly keep true to its name.

So after a lucky mistake, you found yourself searching for cheap food and stumbled across the mangy bar, not expecting to find your school's most decorated student riffing on his electric guitar.

Unlike you, Eddie could still recall that night almost like it happened yesterday. It was rather crowded, meaning that there were more than five people filling the empty seats as he introduced the band and what they were going to sing. His eye scanned the crowd, almost like they almost did, but they stopped, widening for a second in recognition.

“This song's a cover from the one and only…” He trailed off, his hand wrapped around the microphone loosening when he saw you sitting in the crowd, Hawkins High’s golden girl, still in your cheer uniform from practice as he stammered, getting a hold of himself as he cleared his throat and mumbled out a quiet; “Black Sabbath.”

He thought that maybe you were here for a date, but you looked relatively cheery for being there by yourself, giving them encouraging claps whenever they’d start a new song, obviously enjoying your time as you munched on the complimentary chips.

Eddie thought it was strange, sure, but he figured that you came that night out of ennui. But you kept reappearing every Friday, getting familiar with the people as you stayed up to midnight to listen to them sing. He knew that while he tried to convince himself that this band was going places, he knew that they weren’t professional or all that good; so you must have been really bored to come here in your free time.

For him, it was definitely new. Out of all people to keep coming back to their shows, he never would have bet his money on you. You who always kept your shoes and clothing clean and painted your nails a light baby pink as you walked around school flashing everybody who passed you by a friendly smile.

It eventually became a standard for you to go, though, feeling almost as if it were rude had you been a no-show. Clad in that green skirt, your cheer logo stamped on the jacket as you walked through the door, giving the woman behind the counter a grin as she waved to you.

“May I have a diet coke?” You ask, leaning over the counter as you tap your shoes on the floor in a little beat, “Please?”

“F’course,” She gave you a kind wink as she slid it over, the drink already prepared because, at this point, everybody knew that you were coming and what you liked to order.

“Thanks Suz,” You pay, pulling out a straw from the holder as you make your way over to your regular spot, drinking a little bit to quench your thirst. You looked around, noting that it was emptier than usual, but maybe this Friday people just weren’t up for metal music and room-temperature beer.

But the more closely you looked, the more confused you got. The stage was empty, which wasn’t unusual, but none of their usual pieces of equipment were up there, instead replaced by a lone maraca resting on a stool. And you were sure that the last time you checked, none of the four members used that instrument.

Your forehead wrinkled in bewilderment,

“Hey, Suz?” You called out as you turned in your seat, looking over to see him cleaning out a cup, “Are they playing tonight?”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused as her gaze fell to something behind you, giving you a knowing grin, jutting her chin to something behind you as she went back to cleaning her cup.

“Sorry, but,” You perked in your seat at the familiar voice, glancing back to see Eddie Munson standing right there, hovering over the seat next to you as he gave you an apologetic look, “Gareth’s got carpal tunnel at the moment. Can’t really work any magic on the drums when the hand holding the wand is immobile.”

Your eyes widen for a second, mouth running dry as if the weeks of preparing yourself to just talk to him had fallen short on you. He leaned against your little table, staring at you through furrowed grows as you gaped up at him.

“Oh…” You swallowed, rubbing nervously at your nose as you gave him an awkward chuckle, “Well, that um, that - that sucks.” And you watch as Eddie grins boyishly at your stammering, clicking his tongue against his teeth.

“Tell me about it.”

You feel like your heart was about to beat out of your chest, the silly little crush that was growing on the boy surely about to be the death of you as you try to adjust yourself to look less gauche. It was stupid, really, just how minuscule you felt under his gaze, and even when he’d walk by you could feel your body heat up. You watched through nervous eyes as he silently motions to the empty seat next to you, a quiet question as you slowly nod.

“Fortunately, Per said he’d fill in on the, uh…” He motioned his hands to the maracas, “Cha-cha instruments.” A small giggle falls past your lips as you snort into your drink, some of the soda splashing on your cheeks as Eddie grins in triumph.

“Per?”

“Yeah, well, his name’s Casper but…” He shrugged, his nose wrinkling, “I can’t say that name without thinking of Casper the friendly ghost.” And your already contagious smile grows as you lean a bit on the table, your hand rubbing at the little beads of water falling down the sides of your drink.

He stared at you for while you took another tentative sip, your fingers drumming on the table as you rubbed at your nose. Yeah, he thought, you were really pretty up close.

“So…” You bit your lip as you tried to think of what to say, your leg bouncing up and down as you looked up at him, “When do you think you’ll be able to play?”

Eddie couldn’t help but feel his lips tilt upwards at your genuine curiosity, pursing his lips as he tried to think.

“A week, maybe two. Don’t sweat on it, Gareth’s got abnormal healing time.”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your smile. You glance away as you twirl the straw around in your drink, the afternoon sun lighting up your features as Eddie stares at you, unknowingly. He couldn't help it. He thought you’d be off-put by him, giving him a short answer as you slowly pretended like he didn’t exist, but he wasn’t prepared to be bombarded with the same treatment you give everybody else.

“What about you?” He sits up in his seat at the question as you take another sip, looking him in the eyes as you wait for an answer.

“What about me?” He says through a little laugh, tilting his head to the side as you duck your chin down in embarrassment, heat flooding your cheeks under his scrutinizing gaze.

“Your fingers,” You muttered as you pointed to his hand, “Don’t they hurt? With playing the guitar and all?”

He looked down at his fingertips, the little indents from the guitar strings still there even after days of not playing, but he waves it off.

“Soak them in ice-cold water right afterward and don’t feel a thing,” He pauses, scratching his chin, “Might be because my fingers go numb from the cold, but it works.” You laugh again, the sound sweet and soft as a bell as your eyes wrinkle around the edges, your cheeks pulled up in the fullest way and he can’t help but understand why everybody at the school loved you so much.

“Y/n.” You say, sticking out your hand, your palm facing the left as you sit up a bit straighter in your seat. Eddie huffs, his hand grasping yours as shakes it lightly, his fingers lingering on the back of your hand.

“Eddie.” He mirrors and you give him a sheepish smile, embarrassed as you nod.

“I know. I’ve been coming here, and it’s-” You swallowed as your fingers fiddled with each other, “It’s hard to miss your name.”

Eddie contains a grin, cocking a brow at you as he interlaces his hands together, leaning back in his seat as he rubs at the corner of his eyes, the little dimples on the sides of his face about to make an appearance as you wait for him to say anything.

“Yeah,” He shakes his head in disbelief as he lets out another chuckle, “Yeah it’s kinda hard to believe that if I’m being totally honest.”

Your little smile falls as concern fills in.

“Hard to…believe?”

He nods, his curls bouncing as he tucks some of his loose hair behind his ear, fidgeting with some of his rings as he clicks his tongue, leaning into the table as you nervously sip on your drink.

“Well, the golden girl of Hawkins High just never really struck me as the type of person to…enjoy metal music, with the, y’know…” Eddie explains as he imitated pom-poms and you roll your eyes as you twirled the ice around, watching as the bubbles of carbonation rose to the top and popped.

“You guys do play a lot of Ozzy for die-hard metal fans. I’d prefer a bit of Pantera or Anthrax but,” You shrugged, never breaking eye contact as you take a sip, “I guess I’m just not into it as much as you are.��

Eddie almost choked on his spit, his eyes widening as you innocently looked up, a teasing smile on your face as you soaked in his reaction. Fuck, he was a total goner now. The biggest fool to underestimate just how much a grasp you could have on him in seconds because you knew his music. Knew it well enough that he could barely think of a witty comeback that could save him from this embarrassment. And you were easily using that as leverage against him.

He hated how he thought that maybe he could twist you over, see just what you were up to because surely you couldn’t be coming to their gigs out of enjoyment. But maybe he was being small-minded, and maybe that small-mindedness was coming back to bite him.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” He rubbed at his chin, perplexed by you who was sitting right there in front of him.

“I like keeping people on their toes.”

Eddie chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief as your hands fiddled with the delicate necklace you wore, moving the pendant around as Eddie tried his best to keep his eyes glued onto your face. But he felt as though you were teasing, maybe even testing him as his gaze dropped a bit, his eyes glazing over as you smirked consciously.

“Wanna see it?” He asks suddenly, and your brows instantly furrow in confusion. Eddie seemed to have been snapped out of his trance, happy to know that he caught you off-guard with his question.

“See what, Munson?” Though it could have been a genuine question, heat crawled up his neck as you used his last name, something ne never realized could sound so sweet falling off your tongue, and it took him an embarrassing couple of seconds to remember what the original question even was.

He stammered, and you tilted your head to the side, worried for him as he cracked his fingers, “The vessel that carries sound to showcase all that is good and holy with the world.” And damn you were fast to figure out what he meant because you waved off his exaggerated speech with a hand, your fingers grazing him as your shoulder shook with laughter.

“You mean your guitar?”

“Sure, if that’s what they’re calling it these days.”

Rolling your eyes you let out another giggle, ducking your head as you fiddle with the hem of your skirt, never expecting your little interaction with Eddie to go this far as he sat there waiting for your answer.

“Depends. Where is she?” Eddie smiles at your wording.

“This place is very accommodating to its attendees. She’s still in the backroom.” You purse your lips, your eyes giving away your pure excitement as you shrug unbiasedly, but Eddie could tell that you had already given in to his offer.

“Show the way,” You say, standing up from your seat as you pass Suz your empty cup, pulling at your skirt and uniform as you wait for him, “Rockstar.”

Eddie quietly groans, his eyes shutting for a second as he covers it up with a lame cough, missing the way you smiled triumphantly to yourself. Eddie muttered a couple of things to Suz, throwing her a thumbs up as the old lady sighed, shaking her head as she went back to cleaning the cups.

You felt a lingering warmth on your back, tentative and unsure as Eddie looked down at you, his doe eyes almost worried that you’d quickly change your mind and leave. But you just looked back up at him, almost defiantly as you squirm around, impatient as you wait for him to show the way.

“This way,” He jutted his chin towards one of the back doors, maneuvering around the sea of chairs and tables as he trailed a bit in front of you, opening the door with a happy little grin, seeing that they still hadn’t locked it yet.

You followed him down a small halfway, stopping at another door as he jiggled the knob around, a sigh of relief escaping his lips. Partially because he knew his guitar was in there and didn’t want to go through the trouble of breaking down another door to get it.

The room was cramped, with a tiny little couch up against one wall, a mirror, and a chair facing you as you looked around in curiosity. You saw Eddie head for a black case resting on the couch, and you quietly shut the door behind you, a little bit awkward as you wondered to yourself what you were doing.

“There she is…” Eddie murmured to himself, gently taking his guitar out while he proudly showed it off, his hands gentle as he watched your face break into a big grin. You walked over, crouching down by the couch to get a closer look.

“Holy shit,” Your fingers hovered over the gloss, careful not to touch it as you looked at him in approval, “Warlock. You’ve got taste, Munson.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed his throat in a grip because how could he talk to you now? Knowing that you could dominate over every single field and he’d probably have zero knowledge in comparison to you.

“Y-yeah, you could say that. Either that or I just hate my savings.” You giggle, shaking your head as you sit back down, careful that your skirt didn’t move that much as your palm ran over the carpet.

“You’re dedicated.” You correct him and Eddie gives you a goofy smile, putting his hair behind his shoulder as he stares at his guitar and then back to you. There was a beat of silence, and you tapped your shoe on the ground, debating on whether or not to tell him something that had been weighing on your mind.

“I have a question.”

Eddie cocks a brow, stopping as he was mid-putting his guitar back in the case as he looks down with interest.

“Shoot.”

“Are you self-taught? Private instructor? Anybody who’s helped you out?” You ask, stammering out as you nervously play with your fingers, bending them back and forward as Eddie huffs out another laugh.

“Self-taught,” His head tilts to the left as a ghost of a smile lingers on his lips, “Why do you ask?”

You shrug, pouting a bit as you sit on your calves, now in front of him as you glance shyly at his guitar.

“I’ve been interested, and I don’t really know anybody who can play.” You explain your voice dying off in the end as Eddie just stares, his hands twitching as he squints his eyes at you.

“There’s a guitar club at school, y’know.” You wave that off, shaking your head in frustration because you’ve already gone back and forth on that very idea. It just didn’t play out well in your mind, joining this late in the year.

“Who can play well.”

Even you could now see the bright blush that overtakes his face, he moves his hand to his mouth, rubbing at his chin to keep himself from looking like a total fool as you look up hopefully at him.

“If you’re trying to flatter me, it’s working very well.” He muttered, moving his guitar so that it lay over his lap. He motions for you to move up a bit, and you oblige, standing up as he tries to make room for the two of you on the small couch.

“Yeah?” It felt like the words were sticking to the back of your throat, caught on your tongue as Eddie nodded slowly, eyes darkening as you swallowed thickly. The air was getting hotter and you felt like you could barely breathe.

“Yeah,” He muttered, his voice as dim as yours moving around in his seat feeling little beads of sweat roll down his neck.

This was really bad, he told himself over and over as a reminder, you were untouchable.

But maybe you didn’t seem to wholeheartedly agree with that ideology.

“Eddie?”

“...yeah?” He loathed how his eyes kept falling down to your lips as if he couldn’t make his feelings any more obvious. You grinned a bit, trying to contain it as you hitched your leg up onto the cushion, your knees touching as Eddie felt his heart lurch around in his chest.

“How far does that flattery go?” He could feel your little puffs of air hitting his cheek, and he just realized how close the two of you were. This wasn’t happening, there was no way he was sitting with the queen of Hawkins High.

“Far.”

It was comically quick how quickly the two of you advanced, his hands almost moving fast than the speed of light to tug you closer into his chest as if the two of you weren’t close enough. It’s much more different than what the two of you are used to. He liked going fast, to feel your teeth clashing with one another as the two of you begin to run out of air, and the feeling is something that simply encourages him.

He could taste the chapstick that lingered on your lips, artificially sweet as they always were, but he still moaned helplessly into the kiss because he just couldn’t get enough of it.

Everything about him was driving you crazy; from the way he carefully held your thigh, to his hand smoothing down your skirt from where it had gotten flipped over. He had a cologne wrapped around his neck, and the more you moved onto his lap the more the scent flooded your senses.

Your hand moved up to his chest, wrapping around his leather jacket for leverage as you slowly pulled away, not missing how his eyes fell for a second in trepidation, worried that he was being too rough and that he’d pushed you away.

But much to his relief you gave him a small smile, your other hand coming up to his neck, fiddling with the curls of hair as you leaned down just enough so that your noses brushed up against each other.

“You alright? Too much?” He murmured gently into the skin of your jaw, his lips brushing against your cheek as you shivered in his hold, weakly nodding as you tried to regain some of your dignity.

“N-no, just fine.” And you knew you were lying to yourself because it wasn’t just fine. You could swear you’ve never been kissed like that ever before. Held so close to somebody this tenderly as if he actually wanted you there.

And before he could even continue you swooped in, some of that confidence from earlier coming into play as Eddie groaned into your lips, biting and nipping at them as they traveled down his jaw to the upper side of his neck, swollen as they attached to his pulse. His hands clenched as you sucked, licking at the spot every now and then as you made your mark on him.

He was a fucking goner.

“S-shit, that’s,” His breathing was coming out choppy, and he threw his head back to give you more space, “That’s fuckin’ perfect, sweetheart.” The little pet name fell from his mouth, accidental in nature, but it still managed to give you little butterflies as you smiled a little to yourself.

Your hands mindlessly roamed his chest, ducking under his shirt as your nails grazed the skin of his stomach and you felt it clench underneath you, his uneven breaths cute as you giggled quietly.

His mouth fell open for a second as your fingers palmed at his growing length, his eyes shutting momentarily as he pawed it through the material of his jeans, acting like a total menace as you pressed your thumb deeper into it.

Eddie went to move, to tell you that you didn’t have to but you shook your head, tugging at his zippers as you glanced up at his beet-red face.

“It’s okay, Munson,” Your fingers tug at the elastic of his boxers, his eyes already giving away his true feelings even though he felt terrible for allowing you to do this, “It’s the least I could do as your number one fan.” You pull his underwear and pants down, his cock springing free as it hits your cheek. You press a quick kiss to the tip, red in color as you clench your thighs at the sheer size of him. Forgetting where you were, you go back to attending to his hard-on, your tongue running up and down his length, spreading the precum on your tongue as he gives up, his head falling back against the wall as he grips tightly at the cushion.

His hands moved on their own, gripping the back of your head as he looked at you, a silent question in his eyes as he asked you if this was okay. When you gave him a faint nod, grinning against his tip he let out another moan, guiding you to where he wanted your mouth.

Your tongue was so, so hot as it enveloped his cock, wrapping around it as you enveloped him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down with the help of his hand as a flurry of curses followed.

“F-fuck that’s, that’s amazing sweetheart. You’re taking me so well, shit,” He groaned as you suctioned around him, his head almost hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to spring to your eyes as he cooed at your reaction, “You’re fucking amazing, yeah? S-shit, never felt this good before, god. You’re gonna make me cum if you keep d-doing that,” He’s trembling, his thighs shaking as you grip onto them for support. His hands curl around your scalp ever so gently to make sure he doesn't hurt you in the process.

His eyes glance over to the door, widening when he realized you two had forgotten to lock it, and the sheer thought that somebody could walk in on him fucking your throat sent him into a whining mess.

“Shit, it’s not even locked,” You don’t bother to care as your hands' pump and down the places your mouth couldn’t attend to, the extra stimulation causing him to see white, “But you want that, huh? Want people to see you getting wrecked? That your makeup’s getting all ruined because you’re my number one fan?” His words make you whine a bit, “S-shit, sweetheart, they’d never guess to see their golden girl on her knees, would they?” The thought of anybody just walking in on your tear-soaked face, eyeliner smudged as it trekked down your cheeks made you moan against him, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge as he spurts all over your tongue, his eye squeezing shut as a low groan escapes his lips.

“D-damn…” His chest heaved up and down, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he tugs you back up onto his chest, his fingers delicately running up and down the expanse of your arms as he pecks your lips, his thumb swiping at your cheeks to get rid of the tears, “You’re just as much of a freak as I am, huh?” It wasn’t a question so much because the way you smiled against him told him all he needed to know.

“I’m just a very devoted fan, Munson.” You reason with him and he lets out a weary chuckle, his hands roaming up and down your back, flying under your uniform as they travel up your navel. You whine slightly when his calloused fingers find your bra, tugging it down as they flicked your little nubs, smiling at him as you go limp in his hold.

“Don’t think it’s really fair that I’m basically naked while you’re all clothed up, hm?” He asks, his brows furrowing in mock annoyance, “And as much as I love your little uniform, believe me, I do, can I get this off of you? Please?” His weariness to approach just made you even more desperate, and you dimly nod as you let him slowly remove your top, his hands skimming your sides as you let out an airy giggle at the feeling.

“Sorry,” He whispers, smiling slyly against your lips as his fingers graze the same spot in a faster manner, “Didn’t know you were ticklish.” You shake your head as you let out another laugh, too focused on how he was making you feel, inside and out, to realize he had unclasped your bra in a single flick. However, what you couldn’t miss was how he tensed up a bit, his eyes dropping as his hands cupped your tits, groaning at how soft they felt against his rough skin.

“Can you sit up a bit sweetheart?” His hands moved under your thighs, tugging at the hem of your skirt as he looked at you with those damn eyes, and you nodded again, your words catching in your throat as you struggled to find something to say to him.

“Y-yeah, here…” You stammered, helping him move the flimsy material off your leg as you tossed it off somewhere to the side. His hand traveled up to cup your ass, squeezing it as you squealed, his curls tickling your bare chest as you fell deeper into his embrace, somewhat aware of how he was careful to take your panties off. You couldn’t see what he was doing but you melted when you saw him place the now-folded clothing somewhere where it wouldn’t get soiled.

“Don’t know why I waited s-so long.” You breathed out, your huff hitting his neck as he shivered, pulling away to look up at you to see your expression.

“So long for what sweetheart?” His voice was hoarse, coming up to straddle your hips as you squirmed around on his dick, the two of you groaning slightly at the feeling, almost forgetting to answer him as he rubbed against your swollen clit.

“To just talk to you, Eddie, to do this…fuck,” And the way you muttered his name, coaxing it out of your honeyed mouth made him almost go feral. Alongside the way you were grinding on him, he felt like he was slowly losing his mind.

“Don’t know either,” He kissed your neck, his wet lips trailing down to the crevice of your collarbone, his nose rubbing against your soft skin still scented with your perfume as the smell infiltrated his senses, “Seems weird coming from my number one fan, no? Where’s the devotion, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, laughing as your head tilts back, the sound so genuine and pure that Eddie can’t help but feel his lips tug upwards to a gentle smile.

“You’re shameless Munson. Downright shameless.”

“D’you want me to stop then?” His fingers pinched your nipple, tugging on it as you wrung your eyes shut.

“N-no, don’t…just,” Your face heated up in embarrassment as he laughed again, his hand trailing down your stomach to find our mound as you sighed out in relief, the final gratitude you had been waiting for awarded as his thumb found your clit,” Y-yeah, perfect.”

Eddie laughed, dragging his thumb up and down your bundle of nerves, flicking it back and forth as your head fell into the crook of his neck, sweat lining your forehead and lips as you sucked onto his skin, not wanting him to hear your wanton moans as his finger rubbed against your slick entrance. He prodded at the skin of your inner thigh, teasing and testing the waters as he looked up for your approval. You gave him a small nod, your breath hitching as his cold rings dragged up the burning sensation of your pussy, something you longed for him to do again even though the first time was a total accident.

“You’re so wet, f-fuck,” He muttered, eyes in a trance as he watched his fingers disappear inside your pussy, groaning instantly at the way you clamped down needily on him, his fingers coming out glistening each time he went back to pump them in, “And so tight, fuck, let me know if it hurts, yeah sweetheart?” You nod limply against him, your hands cradling his neck, afraid to let go and become a total mess as he finger fucked you.

“Mhm…” You hummed, your hot lips pressing up against him, your hands playing and tugging on his curls as he huffed out a groan, “Fuck, f-faster Eddie, it feels so g-good, mm!” Your eyes snap open when he adds another finger, his thumb still on your clit as you moan loudly at the feeling.

“Shhh,” He said, clamping his free hand over his mouth as you rid his hand, his palm glistening with your essence as he kisses your forehead the act too innocent and sweet for the way he was ruining you, “Don’t want others to hear…do you?” He tilted his head, his answer rhetorical as you shook your head, not even knowing what you really wanted, “Or maybe you do…want people to hear the way you’re being absolutely fucking ruined, yeah? To see their little cheerleader soaked?”

He adds in his third finger, stretching you out, his motions never seizing and you feel like you're about to burst all on his hand when he stops. Your eyes snap open, whining as your climax dies down, and Eddie can only offer you a grin as he carefully slides you off of him, falling to the food as he lets you get comfortable on the couch as he lewdly spreads your legs open for him, his eyes darkening as he takes in your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” He moaned, whining as he glances up at you, “You’re so fucking pretty.” And it really shouldn’t make you heat up in the way that it did after everything he’s done to you, but you can’t help the warmth that quickly spreads through your chest.

He kisses your thighs, all the way up to your pulsing cunt as he smiles against your clit, giving little licks to the nub as your legs shake in his vice grip.

“F-fuck, Munson, h-holy shit…” You can barely speak as he continues, replacing his mouth with his finger as his tongue moves down to your pussy, his nose nudging at your folds as your words edge him on.

You move against his face, your wetness staining his lips and chin as you grind up and down, his tongue working at a faster pace than your hips can go as you tug his head even impossibly closer to your heat, guiding him where you wanted him most as he kneads the meat of your thigh.

His tongue is so skilled, his finger working on your clit as your climax quickly approaches and it’s not long until your back is arching on the sofa, your eyes squeezed shut as you see white, gushing all over his pretty face as your chest heaves with labored breaths.

When he pulls away you can see the sick that lines his face, glowing in the dim light of the room as you sling your arm over your face in embarrassment, groaning as he laughed, pulling himself up by the arm of the couch as he pecks your lips, his thumbs rubbing at your cheeks as he tries to coax you to let him see you.

“There you go,” He murmurs, fingers hovering over your cheekbones as he sees your fucked out and embarrassed smile, “Prettiest eyes in the goddamn world.” You turn your head to the side, swatting at his chest as he laughs along to your adorable reaction.

“You’re a lot of bark no bite,” You whisper, turning back so that you were facing him, your fingers trailing around his chin and jaw, pulling him closer as you kiss him, biting down on his swollen lip as he grunts in surprise, smiling as you run your hands along his back and up to his neck.

“Really?”

You would have argued with him that he was, that he liked seeing you flustered but did nothing about it but he never let you because he pushed himself into you in one thrust, the size of him making you choke on your words.

“F-fuck!” Your nails dig into his shoulder, and he hisses at the way you clamp down on him, “E-Eddie! S’big, f-fuck, you’re so big,” You wail, whining as his head falls into your shoulder, kissing your neck in his own form of an apology as his hands steady themselves on your hips.

“No bite, remember?” He murmurs and you would have pushed him at the audacity, but you could barely move as he slowly began to pull out of you, his tip still feeling your flutter around him as he pushes back in, your head thumping against the wall as he holds you tightly to him, moving you up and down on his dick as he pleased.

“S’tight, f-fuck, you’re m-milinkg me right now,” He groaned as he felt your heat wrap around him, the sinful smell of both sweat and sex swirling around your intertwined bodies as he got high off of it all.

His eyes rolled back into his skull in immediate pleasure as your nails left angry marks down his back, your walls fluttering beautifully around him as he continued to fuck you, rough but gentle in a way as he moved one of his hands up to the back of your head so that it didn’t hit the wall.

“Eds, please, please, hmmm…” You whined as he quickened his pace, his cock twitching inside of you as his brow lined with sweat. He watched as he disappeared back inside of you with every thrust, your slick staining his dick as he moaned at the sight.

“Shit, shit, you’re so fucking hot right now, I’m, oh my fucking god - you’re so tight…” His hands aggressively groped your breasts, and the two of you could feel how he stuttered, his hips faltering as he was getting closer and closer to his edge. And with the way you could barely let go of him, your hand trailing down your stomach to circle at your clit, you could feel your seconds release creeping up on you.

“Eddie! E-Eddie holy fuck, d-don’t stop, please! I’m going to - I’m going to c-cum oh fuck…” And you trialed off as the words slurred, your eyes rolling back, your mouth hanging open as your tongue rolled out, all of it rolling off of you as Eddie pulled out, coming all over your naked chest with a loud groan, falling onto you as the two of you tried to catch your breaths.

Your hand finds its way into his mess of curls, pulling them out of his face as you lean down, cupping his cheeks as you sloppily kiss him, overcome with a mix of euphoria and emotions as he chuckles into it.

You giggle as he pecks your lips once again, pulling back as he flicks your forehead, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he tries to pull his boxers up before he gets another hard-on by just staring at your tits.

“Can’t feel my dick right now.” He murmurs as he steadies himself, not missing how you snorted as he ruined the tender moment. He went to stand up before he momentarily behinds over, kissing your forehead as he smiths out your tears, kissing the corner of your eyes as he looks around the room for your clothes.

He finds your skirt and then your uniform, his nose wrinkling as he touched the scratchy material, feeling bad that this is what you’d have to wear after he just fucked you.

“Wait…” He turned around, going to the little closet in the back room, opening it up as he rummaged around old leather jackets and ripped jeans, his eyes widening in happiness as he found a comfortable enough looking shirt, (surely more comfortable than whatever that was).

He turned around to see you already tugging your panties and skirt back up, and he held up his finding, his face gleaming with pride as he waited for you to look up. When you finally did your eyes narrowed in confusion, mid-putting your bra on as your head tilted to the side as he wiggled the shirt around by the hanger.

“This looks a bit more comfier than your uniform, no?” He says, now nervous that he had taken a step too far into whatever had just happened, his smiling dropping as his hand fell, going to put it back, his mouth opening in an already forming apology before you ran over to him, taking the shirt into your hands as you grinned up innocently at him.

“You’re such a saint,” You take it from him, setting the hanger back in the closet as you tug the old band shirt over your chest, nodding as you smile contently. This was definitely better than your uniform, “Thanks, Munson.”

Eddie stammers, nodding his head as he mutters out a quiet no problem, not able to keep his eyes off of you as you try to tug your shoes back on.

“So…” Your hand's fiddle with each other, looking back to him as you give him an awkward smile, the air around you two heating up as his gaze follows the marks he sucked onto your skin, his bite marks, and everything that wasn’t covered up by the shirt and your skirt almost made him go feral again, “You still owe me a lesson.”

His brows furrow until he laughs, remembering just what started it all as he nods, tucking his hair behind his hair as he moves around something with the tip of his boot.

“Yeah, well, for my expertise, it’s gonna cost you, sweetheart. Can’t be giving away my secrets if I’m not getting rewarded for it.” You scoff, rolling your eyes as you play with the hem of your skirt, suddenly away from how soft his eyes looked in the afternoon glow and that he had the most kissable lips you’d ever seen.

“Oh yeah…?” You laugh, your cheeks tugging up as he mirrors you, the distance between the two of you becomes smaller and smaller as each of you takes a tentative step forward, still new to whatever this was, but still yearning for more.

“Yeah,” He grinned, twirling his rings around as he shrugged, “Otherwise you’d just be robbing me blind.”

You smile like an idiot, standing on your toes, your hand cradling his cheek as you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, a reminder of what had just happened minutes ago as his hand curled to your back, not wanting to let you go even as you slowly pulled away.

“Think that would count as a downpayment?”

He pretends to think about it, his hands rubbing the back of your neck as he slowly nods. His rings clink against each other as they rub against your flaming skin, working both to cool you down but also rile you back up.

“It’s a start.”

“I’ll take it, hellfire.” And he smiles against your lips at the nickname, kissing your cheeks and forehead as he wonders who he appeased that’s working up there to give him such a miracle, to have you the most sought-out girl in your high school to be giddily laughing away in his arms as though you two had known each other for long. You kiss his nose, going to pull away when a loud knock interrupts you, both of you freezing in your spots as your necks snap over to the door.

“Hey, uh - Eddie? Is that you, man? Listen, it’s Casper. My shows in a couple of minutes and I f-forgot my headband there. I told you how it’s my good luck charm, right? A-anyways, I really don’t want to interrupt your hanky-panky time, really. But bro, please, for the love of god, don't have your dick out when I come in."

7K notes · View notes