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theragethatisdesire · 10 months

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scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, “take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.”

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin.

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it.

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch.

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

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cooliestghouliest · 4 months

Text

PUTTY, chapter one

(chapter one), (chapter two), (chapter three)

PAIRING: virgin!Eddie/former cheerleader!Reader

SUMMARY: Eddie has a little brother. Eddie’s little brother has a babysitter.

SERIES TAGS and C/W’s: mutual pining, experienced!Reader, inexperienced!Eddie but he’s eager to learn, mostly sub!Eddie, insecurities and self doubt, narcissistic and/or absent parents, jealousy, mean basketball players, hurt/comfort, they smoke weed, eventual smut (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), uniform kink, dirty talk, foot jobs, hand jobs, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), public sex, sex toys, unprotected PiV. more to be added as this progresses!!!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. fun fact that this was one of the first Stranger Things fanfics i ever wrote. it was originally titled She Was Straight From Hell, But You Could Never Tell, and featured Eddie alongside an OC. i’ve changed it to be reader-insert, because that seems to be more in my writing wheelhouse nowadays. this fic will be multiple parts — it begins with backstory, but will eventually branch off into a universe of little smutty ficlets where Reader will corrupt virgin!Eddie as much as humanely possible.

—

Eddie hadn't known about the existence of his little brother until two months ago, when Al Munson showed up in the middle of the night with a small child in tow. Eddie didn't even know his dad was out of prison again, and yet here he was, in the flesh, a little boy with a mop of black curls resembling Eddie's own cradled in his leather jacket-clad arms.

Al was lucky Wayne was working or else this family reunion would have gone south fast.

While Wayne wasn't Al's biggest fan, Al was Eddie's dad, and Eddie would always hold onto as many moments with his father as he could get, no matter how sparse, and no matter how much of a self-serving piece of shit asshole Al Munson truly was.

But Eddie didn’t see it like that. Eddie saw it like this: His dad lived a hard life. His dad struggled with addictions. His dad lost a wife, just as Eddie had lost a mother. His dad tried his best with what he had.

Deep down, Eddie knew these were all just sorry excuses, but he kept that truth tucked away, not wanting to deal with the reality that Al truly only cared about himself.

He already had one dead parent. If he cut his dad out of his life, he’d basically have two.

"When'd you get out?" Eddie asked, stepping aside so Al could enter. His eyes followed the child, brows furrowed. The trailer was always Al's first stop on his freedom tour and the older man had always brought some sort of baggage along with him -- never a little kid, though. What the hell kind of trouble had his dad gotten into this time?

"Few days ago," Al replied, heading for the living room. He placed the sleeping child down on the worn sofa, then straightened and faced Eddie. "Listen, son, you gotta do me a favor. I'm not out long this time. I might've robbed an ATM or two last night. I'm kinda on the lam."

Al didn’t even have the decency to look sheepish at his wrongdoing.

Eddie was used to this. Even when Al was a free man, he was never a free man for long. He didn't think his dad knew how to coexist among non-inmate citizens. Eddie didn't think his dad even wanted to. Prison was a creature comfort for the elder Munson. Eddie wasn't necessarily mad at that fact. He was happy when Al was locked up, because then at least he knew where his dad was. Otherwise, Eddie worried his father would eventually get himself into a situation he wouldn't be able to get out of, and Eddie would really never see him again.

Eddie was also used to Al showing up after months and months, sometimes even years and years, such as now, always asking for favors.

"Who is that?" Eddie asked, pointing towards the couch, not being able to ignore the other human in the room any longer.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I need your help with.” Al rubbed at the back of his neck. "Well, no way to do this other than to just say it. That there's your little brother, Eddie. His name's Oliver. And I need you and Wayne to look after him while I'm gone."

"My... what..." Eddie stammered, face scrunching up. He expected Al to burst out laughing and admit he was just fucking around, and that this tiny sleeping stranger was actually just the kid of a fellow convict buddy. Maybe it was said convict buddy’s turn to rob ATMs tonight, leaving Al the babysitter. Irresponsible. Unlikely. And, turns out, untrue.

With Al's silence, Eddie knew his dad’s admission wasn't a joke.

Eddie was beyond confused now.

"Dad, how... you've been in prison for six years!"

"Conjugal visits," Al answered with a bit of a smug shrug.

Eddie shook his head in disbelief. "What the fuck? Wayne can't afford another kid that's not even his... and I'm in school still, I can't watch him... this isn't... I don't know how..."

But Al was already making his way to the door.

"I know you'll figure it out. I can always count on you, my boy," Al prided, tone cheery as if the favor he'd just asked of Eddie was to give him a quick ride somewhere or find an old family recipe.

Al wasn't acting like he was ditching another Munson offspring off on his older brother. He was treating this like an issue of minor importance, just a little speed bump on an otherwise flat road.

Al Munson was not an upstanding person. Never had been, never would be. Because of this, Eddie shouldn't have been surprised or appalled, but here he was, standing with his mouth agape. Surprised. Appalled.

His dad was out the door with a lighthearted, "See ya 'round, son," and Eddie was left speechless in the middle of the living room.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne got over the new addition to the Munson household fairly quickly.

While he'd been livid at first, calling up all of Al's old friends he'd still had the numbers of to try and find out where his dumb shit of a younger brother was, Wayne eventually became resigned to the idea that he now had another little boy to rear and mold.

What else could he do?

Wayne took care of his kin, especially if they were innocent bystanders and had no say in being born in the first place. He'd raised Eddie, and although he knew the boy had his struggles, he didn't think he'd done too bad of a job.

Eddie never went hungry, always had clothes to wear, a bed to sleep in, and Wayne was the one who haggled Eddie's van down to a reasonable price so the boy could pay for it with his lunch box salary.

Wayne knew about the weed and the pills, but so long as Eddie stayed smart about where he was selling and who he was selling to, he didn't much mind Eddie's unconventional line of work. It helped his nephew stay somewhat social, and Wayne knew how important that would be for Eddie's future. If the boy was nothing but a lone recluse his whole life, he'd probably end up just like Al. Nobody wanted that.

Eddie was just about grown now. Sure, he was rearing twenty and still in his senior year of high school, but Wayne had an inkling that '86 would be Eddie's year.

Wayne had always thought about selling the trailer and buying an RV with retirement money once Eddie was out on his own. He wanted to travel the country for the remainder of his life.

The idea that he'd have to raise up another wild Munson for the next fifteen or so years caused a knot to form in his stomach.

Would Wayne even be around for that much longer? He may have been relatively healthy, and he was only in his mid 60's, but Wayne wasn't an idiot. He knew anything could happen at any time.

Wayne knew he needed help this time around. He figured he could count on Eddie here and there, but Eddie needed to focus on school this year if he planned on finally walking the stage. Because of this, Wayne decided to enlist the help of someone on the outside. Someone with experience.

So, he posted an ad in the Hawkins Post, looking for a full-time nanny for a five-year-old boy to start as soon as possible, and waited for a response.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Wayne didn't have to wait long.

Two mornings following the job post, shortly after he'd returned home from work, he heard a knock on the trailer door.

When he answered, he saw a pretty young thing standing on the front stoop.

"Hi!" you greeted, then immediately began to ramble. "Are you Mr. Munson? I hope it's okay I just showed up... there wasn't a number listed, only an address, and I didn't know if you wanted me to write a response and mail it, but the ad seemed maybe a little urgent, so I thought, hey, what's the harm in just... showing... up..."

You trailed off, feeling silly for word vomiting during your first impression. He was watching you with a small smile, eyes flickering with what looked like amusement, especially as your cheeks began to color to the soft red of embarrassment.

Listing no number on the ad was intentional. He hadn't owned a rotary phone in about ten years, after having tried to cut back on bills, and he knew not just anyone would make the trek to Forest Hills for a potential job offer. He’d figured only committed applicants that wouldn't waste his time would follow through.

"I have a lot of experience," you continued on at his silence, almost as if you couldn't help it, compelled to divulge all the information you could in the first three minutes of meeting. Wayne found it endearing. "I used to babysit for three different families when I was in high school. And I have two little sisters. My mom and dad worked a lot growing up, so I spent a lot of time with them. Didn't get paid, but... I made sure they didn't die or anything..."

From their brief interaction thus far, Wayne knew he succeeded in his method of weeding out flakes. You were obviously serious about the position. He felt he was a decent judge of character, and he'd learned in life that sometimes over-explaining was synonymous with caring.

"Sorry," you said, forcing out a little laugh. "I guess I could have just introduced myself. You didn't really need to know all that." You shot your hand out, giving your name. "I'm here about the nannying gig. Um, obviously. That is, if I didn't already scare you off."

Wayne took your hand in both of his own, shaking it. He placated you with a grin. "It's a lot harder than that to scare off a Munson, sweetheart. Let's go inside and meet Olly."

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Although Oliver Munson was only five, he had a spectacular vocabulary and a limitless imagination. Wayne knew the boy was a little charmer, quite like how Eddie was when he allowed himself to be, when the teenager wasn't drowning himself in existential teenage angst and nonsense.

You fell under Olly's spell almost instantly.

And it seemed the little boy had fallen under yours as well.

Oliver didn't stop talking to you while you were there, and didn't stop talking about you after you’d left, asking when you’d be back and if next time you could take him to the trailer park's playground and maybe you two could watch G.I. Joe or He-Man together afterward.

Wayne had taken your number down before you’d left and had told you he'd be in touch soon.

Later that evening, after Eddie had gotten back from his club meeting at school, Wayne took the trip into downtown Hawkins to use the payphone and ask you if you wouldn't mind starting as early as tomorrow.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

You were far from struggling for money.

Your father was a sought-after criminal prosecutor for the entirety of Indiana. Your mother was a real estate agent for high profile clientele who came from old family money; her father was CEO of a day trading business, and his father before him had been the same.

Although you likely would have never had to work a day in your life and could live a comfortable existence off of inheritance alone, handouts and the humdrum of an All-Play-and-No-Work lifestyle was never a dream of yours. That sounded so cookie cutter, so monotonous, so boring.

You liked to feel a sense of accomplishment. You liked setting goals and reaching them. You didn't want to freeload off of money that was gained from the capitalistic professions your parents were a part of. You wanted to be in control of your own finances and be the author of your own future, not have it already be etched into stone simply by being just another rich kid from Hawkins, à la the likes of the Carver's or the Cunningham's or the Harrington's.

You were ecstatic when you got the call from Wayne, asking you if you’d be willing to start the following day. He left for work at 2PM, so you’d have to be there before then, and would need to plan on staying until Wayne's nephew got home around six.

If you were to be completely honest with yourself, you felt a bit nervous, but the job itself wasn't the reason why that writhing feeling accompanied your excitement.

You had more than ten years of babysitting experience under your belt, and you were eager to get back into a job you actually enjoyed as opposed to trying out different careers to see what stuck and what didn't. Having graduated the spring before, you’d been taking an off year to save up money by working odd jobs around Hawkins to be able to buy your own apartment.

You’d worked as a florist for a few weeks, but it turned out your thumb was pitch black instead of green.

You worked as the personal assistant for a group of lawyers from a local law firm, but it turned out they just needed office eye candy and not someone to actually get any sort of work done.

You worked as a veterinary assistant, but it turned out the job was much more than just petting cats and dogs. You couldn't handle it when a sick animal would come in and there would be nothing anyone could do. Your heart broke more at that clinic than it had your entire life.

You were in between jobs when you’d decided to peruse the classified section of the Hawkins post. There, in the shortest blurb on the page, was a listing for a needed nanny, a full-time position offering negotiable pay.

The next bit was where the excitement wavered.

The listing was published by a Wayne Munson of the Forest Hills trailer park.

That had to be Eddie Munson's uncle. There was no way there were two separate Munson families living in the only trailer park in Kerley County.

You couldn't believe that you’d stumbled across this ad, that the geeky metalhead you’d crushed on since your freshman year of high school had a little brother you could be the potential nanny of.

You were two years younger than Eddie, but that hadn't stopped you from losing periods of time to daydreams about the way the wind ruffled his wild mess of curls on breezy days or the way his band tee sleeves always clung perfectly to the soft muscles of his biceps or the way his cheeks dimpled when he teased the other boys he sat with at lunch.

You’d always wanted to introduce yourself, but you didn't run in the same crowds -- you being on the cheer team and Eddie blasting Black Sabbath in the parking lot after his Hellfire meetings. You could never muster the courage. He seemed so carefree, so full of life, so effortlessly funny. Chrissy Cunningham, your best friend, had spoken to him once or twice and had told you how different he was than what other people said about him. He wasn't scary or mean or threatening, and instead was warm and silly and genuine.

But you knew how the people you spent your time around treated people like him. You knew your group of "friends" referred to him as a freak, a Satan worshipper, and did everything in their power to try to bully him into becoming a shell of himself. Thankfully, he never did -- it was almost as if Eddie absorbed the hatefulness and spent it tenfold by mocking the hilarity of the jock hierarchy that ruled the school, as well as using it to strengthen his own ability to embrace every misfit that walked the halls of Hawkins High.

You never introduced yourself because you were afraid he’d think you had an ulterior motive, that you’d be trying to talk to him as a joke or a prank. You knew the company you kept. You were sure Jason Carver had once or twice suggested you do just that, lead Eddie on and make a fool of him in front of the whole school.

You figured it'd be best to just stay away.

But now, you thought finding this ad was possibly a sign from the universe.

Maybe you were getting a second chance.

𖤐 ֪ 𖤐 ֪ 𖤐

Eddie was running late.

He was supposed to be back home half an hour ago to relieve whoever Olly's new babysitter was of her duties, but the campaign had taken a shocking turn and Hellfire couldn't disband until it had commenced.

The night finally ended with Will's character decapitating Dustin's, and Eddie had to thwart an actual attack when Dustin leapt across the game table at Will in a bout of rage. Dustin was small but mighty, and Eddie had to physically wrestle the boy off of Will's neck, threatening to banish Dustin from the next few campaigns if he didn’t chill out. Henderson had huffed and puffed but had admitted defeat and apologized to Will for the attempted murder.

By the time Eddie arrived back to the trailer park, the sun had almost set. He pulled his van into his parking spot to the right of the trailer and shut it off. Stepping out, he swung his backpack over his shoulder, but came to a halt when he heard Olly's scream sound from behind the trailer.

Dropping his bag and beginning to run toward the noise, Eddie's heart fell to his stomach. Horrible images of what could possibly be pulling that sound from his little brother pervaded Eddie's mind. He had an overactive imagination to begin with, and something like this verbal cue only egged it on. "Olly!" he shouted, panic raising his voice. "Olly, are you okay?! What’s going on, where are --"

Eddie came to a halt when he found the boy in the backyard with a huge smile spread across his small, sweaty face. Olly had a fake crown on, one made of twigs and leaves, and he was carrying one of the biggest sticks Eddie had ever seen. He had a blanket tucked into the back of his shirt, the cloth a makeshift cape. A thin piece of metal, probably from one of the cars Wayne and Eddie sometimes worked on, was wrapped around his center, acting as armor.

Olly had just been playing.

Letting out a heavy breath of relief, Eddie noticed your frame just off to the side. His eyes started from the ground up, noting the shiny red Docs donning your feet, moving up bare legs that were covered mid-thigh by a short black skater dress, one that hugged your curves in a way that had Eddie’s mouth going dry.

By the time he reached your face, your eyes were wide with amusement.

You’d been watching as he slowly drank you in. He didn't mean to ogle. He had to shake his head a few times to clear it, and when he did so, the face before him started looking more and more familiar.

"Wait," he started, head tilting. He spoke your name, tone riddled with confusion. "From high school?"

You were about to answer when Oliver cleared his throat, obviously not wanting to be ignored or to have his playtime interrupted any longer. You looked down at the boy, who pointed up to his head at his crown. You got the gist -- Olly wanted the game to continue. You could indulge him. You’d been doing it all day, and honestly you’d been having the most fun you’d had in a while.

You turned your attention back to Eddie, fixing your posture and jutting your chin out slightly. "I don't know who that is," you began, voice lilting. "I am Princess Guinevere of Kerley County and this here,” you brought your gaze back down to Oliver, “is my most loyal servant, Sir Olly of Castle Munson."

Eddie couldn't help the grin that broke out over his face at your announcement. He then took a moment to fully take in the rest of your appearance. You, too, had on a makeshift crown, this one made up of cherry blossoms and daisies. You had a flowing blanket tucked into the back of your dress, cascading down your back like a veil.

No fucking way were you, last year's cheerleading captain and prom queen, standing in his backyard playing fucking knights and princesses with his little brother. No fucking way.

Olly broke the silence by shouting out, "Hey, Eddie! Who are you gonna be?"

Eddie tore his eyes from you to focus on his brother. He pursed his lips to one side in thought, trying to come up with a character. He was usually quick on his feet when it came to creative play, but he had just spent the last three hours DM'ing a month-long DnD campaign. His brain felt shot. He was pulled from his introspective reverie by your soft, suggestive voice — no, sorry — the soft, suggestive voice of Princess Guinevere.

"Wanna be my dragon, Eddie?" you asked.

Eddie wasn't exactly sure why that made his breath catch in his throat.

He nodded dumbly, silent, then forced himself to speak because he didn't want to look totally lame in front of a Princess. "Okay. Yeah, I'll be your dragon."

You graced him with a smile before Oliver's tiny but booming voice cut through the air of the darkening night. "HEY! Dragons don't talk!" the boy stomped his foot and hit his stick against the muddy ground in annoyance.

A laugh bubbled from your throat and Eddie grinned, jumping into a wide-legged stance before outstretching his arms, tilting his head back, and roaring.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #stranger things

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thewriteblrlibrary · 4 months

Text

A Step-by-Step Marketing Guide so we can spite traditional publishers (and make people cry).

~ This is a guide specific for fiction/writeblr. All of this is for free and there is little social media posting/ads involved (unless you want to venture into that). ~

Within the writeblr spheres, there's this underlying hope that our stories will find their audience. Perhaps we'll have a fandom full of fanart and video essays, or maybe we'll be an instant classic and sit on collectors' beloved bookshelves. Our stories could sit within the deepest corners of someone's heart and maybe they never tell a soul about what's so special to them. Maybe our stories become those 'underrated masterpieces'.

Or we just want to see people ugly cry over our writing.

Whatever your hope may be, marketing is an important path to venture on (especially because traditional publishers are rejecting diverse books in favor of ones that are already famous + the whole sub-par machine thing they seem obsessed with.)

And thus, my childhood marketing obsession will hopefully be of use to you. This is all for free (unless you want to spend money) and you don't need to figure out social media platforms (unless you want to, and this guide works if you decide to take that route too.)

Step One: Characters

Marketing spheres will define these fictious people as 'avatars' or 'the target audience'. You could also call them characters. Because that's what they are: fictional people.

For this step, you shall create characters that would love your story.

And here's some great news: You've already done this.

Perhaps you wrote your story to comfort a prior version of yourself. Perhaps each character in your story holds an aspect of your personality. Perhaps you were ridiculously self-indulgent and made the story you would've loved to read. These are all possible characters you can reuse for marketing.

Write down 2-4 quick archetypes for these characters. You'll chose an aspect of your story (characters, themes, or the younger-self that you wrote it for) and write a thumbnail sketch. (Main issue, fears, wants, personality traits if they relate to the main issue.)

I'll do it for my story (the Land of the Fallen Fairies) down below:

Anuli-like (my MC): Overthinking and aloof. Wants a happy ending but thinks their current personality/character isn't good enough for one. The present stales in comparison to the past/the childhood they lost. The 'gifted theater kids'. Kamari-like (side character): Postpones happiness in favor of creating a perfect schedule/getting accomplishments. Heavy masking. Creative but doesn't create anymore. Promises themself they'll enjoy themselves later, when they've earned it. Workaholics. My younger self: Wanting a fantasy escapism to embody the traits they wish they had in real life. Dissatisfied and worried about reality. Perfectionists. Self-indulgent: People who love plants and forests and fantasy worlds far away from reality/humanity.

Great! Now it's time to find these characters.

Step Two: Setting.

(Let's assume you're using the internet for your marketing. But a similar method works for real life too.)

Where do the characters live?

In order to figure that out, we need to discover the characters' interests, what they watch to solve their problems, and who they find #relatable.

(You can do this for each character or for all the characters at once.)

For example:

Anuli-like -

interests: Stories. Analysis videos. Fantasy escapism. Things that remind them of their childhood. (so nature, warmth, comfort, play, imagination and the times they would actually enjoy learning.)

Places to look: Nature quotes, ambience videos, children's shows and fairytales (comfort shows). Fandom culture - fanfic video essays, fan art.

Solving problems (the problem being wanting a 'happy ending' but feeling that their personality/lifestyle/characteristics aren't right for one): Mindfulness things. Self-healing. Quotes and meditations and candles galore. Slow living. Nature vlogs. Self care. All that 'live in the moment' culture.

Places to look: Slow living. Nature vlogs. The 'softer self-help' (spirituality stuff. Magic/ overnight answers). Witchcraft. 'aesthetic nature' places. Guided meditations.

#relatable: Burnt out gifted kids. People who think so much that their life passes them by. Storytellers and creative who create to make sense of the world. People who like dark, gory things in spite of who they want to be. People who don't like reality.

Places to look: Those 'learn better and remember everything' places. (The 'burnt-out gifted kid' recovery places.) Stop overthinking spots. Those quotes on Pinterest from poetic people who think too much /aff. Storyteller places. Dark academia. Classical music. One off quotes/ poetry.

Okie dokie. Once you have this, find channels, social media accounts, blogs, songs, books, etc. that fit with the categories you wrote down. (They should appeal to the characters) You can search up some of the terms you listed into searches and see who pops up. Bonus points if you find people that overlap with multiple sections.

I know I didn't include booktube or booktok in here. You can if you want too. But those can be a bit... 'consume these 500 books'. You also want to find other places where people who would like you story live, even if they don't follow booktube or booktok.

Congrats! Now you know where your characters live!

Step Three: the scary part

Take everyone you found on your search for the settings and write them down a list. Make sure you get an email/contact info. (they usually list them somewhere under 'for business inquires') Also feel free to watch their content and get to know what attributes these settings have.

And now... we talk to them. about our stories. You can do it. I believe in you.

This called 'pitching your product' in marketing spheres. But you can be informal about it.

I know it can be difficult to talk about your work, so here's a tone to have:

'I made this thing I like and I think you'll like it too'.

What you'll do is send an email (or dm) that goes like this (inspired by Creative Hive on youtube):

Hi [name],

[Genuine compliment]

[Quick sentence or two about your story. Include the themes and who it appeals to. If you have a logline/sentence summary, include that. But I find that the underlying themes and 'who's it's for' is more engaging.

For my story, I might say something like.

I've written a story you might enjoy, since you like [interest]. It's called the Land of the Fallen Fairies. It's a nature-themed commentary on the pursuit of happiness and fixing yourself to deserve that happiness, told by an overthinking, unreliable, houseplant narrator. It was supposed to comfort me when I got frustrated with myself and my happiness chasing, and I hope it can comfort others too.

(That's probably a bit long and I can trim it down a bit.)

You can phrase it like a gift if you want too.]

[Call to action.

'If you like it, I'd appreciate a mention on your [platform].

I know this part may be difficult to mention (imposter syndrome is not fun.) But I promise that if they do like it, they'll be happy to mention it.]

If they don't respond within... four-ish days? (A week at most). then you can include a follow up. For this you can include a template with info about your story. This way it's easy for them to talk about your story.

The template:

title

genre

blurb

Author

where to find the book

Bonus points if you have an additional, physical thing to send them.

Congrats! Now do this pitching process a few times until you've covered most of your bases. (Pitch to as many people as you can. It will get more comfortable as you do it. Play your favorite song and don't let yourself think too hard about it.)

----------

The benefits of this process are that you find people that are already interested in the themes and vibes of your story (in comparison to to ads, which get shoved in everyone's faces.). Someone your audience already trusts will talk about it, which means you don't need to do all this trial and error to find your audience and make content for them.

It's basically a bunch of people talking about something they like!

AND you diversify your audience across niches, but with an underlying theme/interests. Booktok/booktube must appeal to everyone, so it's a hit or miss for recommendations. (Unless there is someone that specifically does one genre/type of story.)

From here you can do fun little things to build up hype and make the book launch feel like this fun event. (I love it when that happens so here's my thoughts about trying to create an event with your story... although that may require another post entirely.)

preorder goals

charity goals

Arg's and puzzles

fund with side plushies and trinkets

Book blog tour

book boxes

as many memes as you can make

rewards (like bookmarks or posters or smth) that people can get for supporting

Talk about the process of creating your story. I know this one channel called 'Dead Sound' that creates 'making of' videos for his short films and they are some of the best videos on youtube.

Okay dear storyteller! Now go forth and share your story with the world!

Additional resources:

Creative Hive <-- a youtube channel that goes through the pitching process.

This video is also very good <-- Haven't watched the rest of the channel but I assume it's also good.

One of the best marketing channels on the internet (the videos are actually entertianing to watch.

Seth Goldin <-- I read his book and took the parts I liked and modified for storytelling marketing.

Dead Sound <-- propaganda to watch the short film series he has (he did the whole 2-d 3-d style wayyyy before spiderverse did... and he's one person making these. One person. It's amazing.

Glitch <--- If someone can figure out how The Amazing Digital Circus was marketed then I will pay you money. It seems to be a lot of memes and funny things.

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maximumsass · 3 months

Text

Green Eyes of Envy Pt. 2

Story Synopsis: So part 2 is the aftermath of Melissa’s confession. I added some more characters into the mix of this story to round it out. Hopefully you like that. And then of course the angsty hot interactions between the reader and Mel. The real question is will they do the “right” thing or will they take the risk and choose each other?

Author’s note: Hey my lovely fanfic village! So I’m not going to lie this one was hard for me to write because I had several different scenarios that could be played out with this but in the end when I sat down to finish this, this is what came out of my author’s soul! So hopefully you enjoy it and it doesn’t disappoint! I do have a pretty wild part 3, let me know if you want it!! I’d love to hear your thoughts and of course any requests you have please ask me! Thank you again for all the likes and the kind words! Sending love to you beautiful humans!!

Word Count-4.3K

Warning: There is a puking part but I promise it’s not graphic or anything.

Part 1-For those of you who missed part 1 here you go!

————————

You hear the door open and close and then you unexpectedly start silently crying. Pull yourself together (Y/L/N), you think to yourself. You think back to the redhead asking why life is like this, that really is the question, why couldn’t you both just be single and start to date like normal people do. You wipe the tears away, there’s honestly nothing you can do at the moment, all you can do is exactly what you told Melissa to do and that’s to think on it and make a decision, wait for her decision and then act accordingly.

You work on the bulletin board until the final bell rings. You rush to grab your stuff and hall ass out to catch the bus to your place. You walk out into the empty hallway before the other teachers start leaving so that you can avoid any small talk, the whole situation with Mel has drained your social energy completely. Of course you have to pass the redhead’s classroom to leave the school, you can’t help but stop and look to see if she’s in there, you think about the kiss you two shared and feeling her gorgeous lips as well a her gorgeous body pressed up against yours. She’s sitting at her desk looking at her computer with those extremely cute cat eye glasses on, she’s biting her lip in concentration as she stares at the screen. And it takes everything in you to not go in there, close the door and give her a kiss she’ll never forget. Something makes her look up and she locks eyes with you, and there is a deep craving in those green eyes, and you know that she feels how badly you want her in that moment. You both just stare at each other for what feels like forever and then your snapped back into reality as the other teachers make their way into the hallway to depart for the day. You rip your eyes away from her emerald eyes, and physically wince as you walk away because you know that was just as painful for her as it was for you.

As you walk away, you feel an arm hook onto your arm, you look beside you to see Jacob looking at you with a huge grin.

“Heyyy!” he exclaims.

“How do you have energy after all of those sessions today?” You tease and playfully nudge him.

“Just call me the energizer bunny!” He says as he mimics pounding the drum like the bunny does in the commercial.

You, Jacob, Zach, and your girlfriend Carly all celebrated pride together this summer. And it had only brought you and Jacob closer as both work and social friends. He was your go-to when you needed a laugh, or just to surround yourself with some uplifting energy.

“On a serious note, I need to ask you a favor.” You say to him as you walk him to his car.

“You know I’d do anything for my home girl!” he exclaims. “Please step into my office.” He opens the passenger door for you and then runs to get in on his side.

You chuckle and roll your eyes. “Have you noticed that Melissa has treated me differently than the rest of y’all since I started?” You ask him as you look at the floor of the car scared of what his answer will be.

“Oh yeah, Janine and I have had many conversations about it. We came to the conclusion that it’s because you’re quiet and give off a chill vibe but at the same time work really hard and the passion you have to help students succeed shines through that.” He answers in a genuine tone.

“Aww Jacob, that’s nice of you to say.” You say with a smile. “So I ask that because obviously I’ve noticed it too. And to be honest before I noticed her behavior towards me, I noticed her from day one because she’s drop dead gorgeous and I developed a little harmless crush. And she was with Gary and I shortly after met Carly so I know that I’d never act on it. But then her and I became close work friends and there was this undeniable fizzle of chemistry I felt towards her whenever I was near her, long story, short your girl caught feelings.” You say as you feel yourself intensely blushing.

Jacob slaps your arm. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before! But now that you say that you guys are extremely flirty with each other! So what are you going to do?!” He asks loudly.

You then proceed to tell him about everything that went down between you and Jessica Rabbit today as well as Barbara telling you about the proposal.

“Now everything that I just told you stays in this car! Not word to anyone, especially Janine!” You give him the stare downs of all stare downs.

He mimics zipping his lip and throwing away the key. “Girl you’ve gotten yourself into one hot mess! I love you to death (Y/N) but Carly’s my friend too, and you know that you don’t deserve to be with her, when you’re doing the things you’re doing. You at least need to be honest with her about what’s been going on regardless of what Melissa’s decision is. Okay that is the tough love portion of my ted talk. Imagining you kissing Melissa is so hawt!!! How did it feel?!” He asks excitedly.

“You’re right about Carly, I know I need to tell her. And I promise I will. As for the kiss, it was better than I ever imagined it could be! I know what were doing is wrong but the kiss just felt so right. Honestly all of it is a huge mind fuck and that’s the last thing I need right now. Anyways back to the favor, I need you to play interference so that when Melissa and I are in the same room there is no opportunity for her to talk to me. I could just stay away from the breakroom until she decides what to do but the other staff would notice my absence and that would draw more attention to me and that’s the last thing I need right now.” You say with a big sigh.

“Mission (Y/N) No Communicado with Red is a go!” He exclaims. You chuckle.

“You want a ride home?” He asks.

“Yes that would be very appreciated. Thank you!” You reply squeezing his arm showing your appreciation.

Tuesday goes smoothly without a hitch. Jacob does exactly as you asked of him and is by your side and talking your ear off whenever Melissa’s in the room and there becomes a possible opportunity to start a conversation with you.

Wednesday morning you can tell that the redhead is itching to talk to you, you can feel her eyes boring into you throughout the sessions. It’s literally taking all your will power to not be available for any conversion or physical close proximity and feed her neediness of your essence close to her.

“Is there a hole in my body that you can see? Cause she hasn’t taken her eyes of me this whole time.” You joke to Jacob with a quiet chuckle.

“(Y/N), I don’t know how you’re staying away from her. Her longing for you is so palpable you could cut it with a knife. Do you think that she’s made a decision and that’s why she’s being so intense?” Jacob asks you.

“Well it is Melissa we’re talking about here Jacob. If she wasn’t being intense I’d be worried. If she made a decision, she would just interrupt you to tell me about it. No offense.” You say with a smll smile.

“Oh none taken. She would definitely do that!” He says returning the smile.

You get through lunch and the rest of the sessions and then you have free time again to get ready for next week. You are the special education teacher at Abbott, you were born with a rare syndrome that in a nutshell paralyzed most of your muscles in your face and left you with multiple physical disabilities that are lifelong. You wanted to make sure that students with disabilities felt included in their classes and that just because they might need to learn differently, doesn’t mean they’re any less smart than the other kids and that they can be successful with anything they want to do, they just might do it a little differently and that’s okay. Thursday and Friday are your accessible tours of the school and the classrooms so it isn’t so scary for the kiddos on their first day. Already setting them up for success for the year ahead. You list your kids by grade and teacher, and then write down when they are scheduled to come for their tour.

You: Hey hun. We need to have a talk tonight. It’s pretty serious so if you just want to come to my place and skip dinner like we planned.

Carly: You’re scaring me. What did I do? Leave a towel on the floor again. Haha. XD

You: Not that this is comforting. But it’s not you, it’s me kinda thing.

Carly: Yeah super not comforting. I guess I’ll see you tonight.

You: I’m sorry. Okay I’ll see you tonight.

You shoot off that last text and then immediately have to run to the staff restroom in time to make it to the toliet. The cool hard tile on your knees is the thing that is keeping you grounded in the moment and not dissociating from the shit show that your life has become. You grab some toilet paper to wipe your mouth and cough a little. Great, now this situation is making you physically sick, at least you’ll come clean to Carly tonight.

“(Y/N)?” you hear the redhead’s voice call out to you.

Shit, Melissa would be the one to find you in this state.

“I’m good Mel. Don’t worry about me.” You respond.

“You are the most stubborn woman! You throwing up during the work day is not fine. I’m going to stay here until you come out. And then you’re gonna let me take care of you. And I’m not taking no for an answer.” She says to you in her I’m not fucking around tone.

You stay in the stall for a few minutes until you think you’re good. You hear her running the sink water. When you come out of the stall you see that she has ran and gotten the toothbrush and toothpaste you keep at school, as well as a plastic cup.

“G’ahead and brush your teeth.” She instructs softly. You take the tooth brush and toothpaste and brush your teeth. When you’re finished she hands you a paper towel to wipe your mouth.

“Come here hun.” She says to you. You go to her and she produces a warm wash cloth an starts to blot it on your forehead, all the time she’s looking at you with this extremely worried look on her face but her eyes show that she’s determined to fix whatever is going on with you.

“You’re not pregnant are you?” She teases you. You both chuckle at that. “But seriously what happened?” She asks in a serious tone.

“I just texted Carly that we need to talk tonight. I’m going to tell her everything that’s been going on with us. And apparently all of this has me fucked up enough that I can’t keep my bodily fluids down.” You say quietly.

A horrified look creeps onto the redhead’s face. “I shouldn’t have told you about my feelings towards you. You’re getting physically sick because of my actions. This whole thing has been so selfish on my part. (Y/N) I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…” She says with a deep look of shame and tears tarting to glisten her eyes.

You put one hand on her waist while the other cups her cheek. “Mel stop, if you wouldn’t have said something the other day, I truly believe that it would’ve still come out somewhere down the line. And then who knows where we would be then, you might be married to Gary by then and then it would be a should’ve, would’ve, could’ve conversation or a lot more complicated to be together. It wasn’t a selfish move because I truly believe deep down we both knew that our feelings were reciprocated. So no matter what happens moving forward, never apologize for telling me about your feelings towards me, because just knowing that Melissa Schemmenti was falling in love with me is an honor all on it’s own.” You say softly.

You look down at her lips and then back to her eyes silently asking for her permission. She slowly nods with a pleading look in her eye. You gently push her against the bathroom wall and kiss her with the craving that has been plaguing you both since your last kiss. A moan reverberates from her mouth into yours and you moan a response back into hers. Her hands tangle in your hair and pull you closer until there is no space and your bodies collide like two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly.

Sadly air is required to live so you break away, her hands still in your hair holding you to her.

“Fuck.” You say between pants trying to get a proper level of oxygen back. “This is exactly why I asked Jacob to play interference between us.” You say more to yourself than her.

“So I wasn’t just imagining him being your little body guard for the past few days.” She chuckles.

“No you weren’t but obviously it was needed. I mean this situation went from caring friend to eroctic fiction in 0 to 60 in 6 seconds.” You chuckle.

“You’re doing the right thing by talking to Carly tonight. What just happened is evidence that I know what my decison is. I’d just be lying to myself and denying myself of what I really want if I didn’t choose you. And I’ve denied myself of what I really wanted too much in my life in order to make others happy or to keep up appearances. I’ll talk to Gary tonight.” She says quietly looking at you with a determined look in her eyes.

You both fix each others clothes and get the smudged lipstick off of your faces and reapply so it looks like nothing happened. She pulls you into a hug, you hold her feeling her warmth engulf you, there’s a sense of peace that washes over you. You end the hug and walk into the hallway together.

“See you on the flip side Schemmenti.” You say to the redhead, giving her a big smile and grabbing her hand and giving it a tight squeeze before letting go and walking back to your classroom.

That night you tell Carly everything. She’s understandably upset and hurt by everything. But at the end of the night, she thanks you for being honest with her and not leaving her in the dark and making her the backup plan if Melissa didn’t pick you. She gathers her things she’s left at your place. You end the night with a hug, wishing each other the best.

Melissa knows that she needs to end things with Gary in public, not because she thinks he’ll do something but if she’s wrong she’d rather not be forced to use her trusty bat even though it is very tempting. She asks him to get drinks at a bar they regular often since they started dating. She tells him everything that she’s felt and that has occurred. Once she’s finished, she can see the red hot anger seething from him.

“How dare you cheat on me!” He hisses at her. “You really think that you’ll find anyone better than me? You are walking away from the best thing you’ll ever have.” He growls at her.

“I’m sorry Gare. But it isn’t fair to either of us for me to stay because I think it’s the “right” thing to do. You deserve a woman who actively and excitedly chooses you every day. And I’m just not that girl.” Melissa says in a somber tone, tears pricking her eyes.

She finishes off her Yuengling. Stands up from the table and walks to his side, and puts her hand on his arm. “I really do wish you all the best Gary.” She gives his arm a squeeze and then exits the bar and doesn’t look back.

You tossed and turned all night long, you know it was the right thing to end things with Carly but to say it didn’t hurt you would be a lie. You get up before your alarm because it was obvious you weren’t getting any more sleep. You have your breakfast and get distracted by watching tv. Then you look at the time and rush to the shower. You are drying your hair when you hear a loud knock at your door, you llok at you phone, it’s 6 in the morning, who the hell is at your door at 6 in the morning! You grab your aqua silk floral robe and throw it on and then go to the door. You look through the peep hole and low and behold stands Jessica Rabbit herself.

“Get your cute ass in here.” You say as you open the door and step aside for her to come in.

She steps inside and you realize she’s holding coffee in one hand and an iced coffee in the other. “So what do I owe the pleasure of being graced with your presence at 6 in the morning?” You tease her with a chuckle.

“I talked to Gary last night and ended things. And I couldn’t sleep last night because all I wanted to do was tell you and be with you without feeling the guilt that has been surrounding us since my confession. I choose you (Y/N) and I’ll keep choosing you as long as you let me. I also needed to bring you an iced caramel latte because that’s your favorite and since this is the first day of me giving you the world and making you feel like the most wanted and cherished woman in the world bcause that’s exactly what you are to me.” She says in a soft voice, vulnerability as well as adoration filling her eyes.

“Mel I feel the exact same way about you. Thank you gorgeous.” You kiss her forehead and then you take your drinks and set them on the counter. And then you are pushing her up against the door and showing your appreciation from the moment your lips are pressed against hers. This kiss feels different, the neediness isn’t there it’s been replaced with a sense of freedom, with the knowledge that you have all the time in the world to savor these kisses because you chose each other and have gifted yourself the time to take this slow and sensual and explore and worship every crevice of each other.

She somehow turns you around so she’s pressing you against the door. Her hand goes to the tie of your robe and looks at you for permission. You nod and she unties it and pushes it until it falls to the floor. You stand there in all your naked glory for her to admire. She steps back and her jaw hits the floor.

“Fuck (Y/N), you’re perfect.” She says in her deep husky voice dripping with seduction.

She steps as close to you as she can, your noses are touching. She starts slowly and softly kissing your neck, making you moan quietly. She takes her hands and cups both of your breasts and then taking her thumbs and slowly rubbing circles on your hardening nipples. She turns her attention back to your lips as she kisses you hard with passion, tongues colliding, sharing moans through hot breath.

She pulls away with an evil smirk on her face. “As much as I want to make you cum for me and witness you in the bliss of an orgasm I give you. We are going to do this properly. And just so I am clear I will make you cum and give you an orgasm you’ll never forget. Will you (Y/N) (Y/L/N) join me for dinner at my house at 7 tonight to enjoy a delicious meal I cook for us as our official first date?” She asks you as she looks at you a little nervously as she caresses your cheek.

“You are a cruel woman!” You say in sexual frustration. “But yes I would love to join for you for dinner as our official first date. You say giving her a big smile and then leaning in and giving her a soft kiss.

When you break the kiss, you playfully and gently push her off of you as you grab your robe and put it back on. She of course gives you her sad puppy dog eyes and pouts.

“You do not get to pout Schemmenti! You are the one who teased me to the point where I have to go take care of myself after you leave.” You tease her.

“You loved it, besides it only makes tonight hotter!” She says with a smirk.

You go to your iced caramel latte and take a sip. “Thanks again for the coffee hun.” You say. “Now unlike you I still have to get ready. I’ll see you at school, okay?” You say with a smile as you kiss her forehead.

“Okay I guess I’ll let you get ready.” She teases. “Stop by my room to say hi if you have time.” She says as she gives you a slow soft kiss and when you break away you both say bye and give a cute wave to each other before she walks out the door and closes the door behind her.

You are meeting with one of your students and his parents for his accessibility tour of the school. His name is Jamal Williams, and Jamal has autism and ADHD, you’ve worked with him for two years now and have seen immense growth. You talk with his parents about how you and Jamal will discuss what his goals are for the year next week. And then it’s time to go see his new classroom, Jamal is starting the 2nd grade and is fortunate enough to have the infamous Ms. Schemmenti.

You walk hand in hand with Jamal down the hall with his parents close behind to the redhead’s classroom. You knock on Melissa’s open door, she’s at her desk when she looks up at you she gives you a big smile.

“Ms. Schemmenti, I would like you to meet Jamal Williams, he’s going to be in your class this year. And he’s just here to get a feel for the classroom and to meet you before the first day so that he isn’t so nervous on his first day. Isn’t that right buddy?” You look at Jamal with an encouraging smile. He silently nods with a small smile.

Melissa bends down to his eye level. “It’s very nice to meet you Jamal. I am so excited to have you in my class. Are you excited to be a little eagle?” She asks him in a warmingly calm voice.

Jamal looks directly at her and holds out his little hand for her to shake. “It’s nice to meet you Ms. Schemmenti. I’m excited for the second grade!” He says with excitement. You look at the interaction shocked. You’ve been working with him on his being introduced to new people skills but this was not how you were expecting that to go.

“Oh my gosh, look who has been working on his introduction skills this summer!” You exclaim. “That deserves a high five and I think I have a gold star sticker for you when we go back to my classroom. That was awesome Jamal.” You say giving him a high five.

You step away from the door to let Mr. and Mrs. Williams in. “This is Mr. and Mrs. Williams and this is Melissa Schemmenti, Jamal’s teacher this year.” You say as you make introductions.

“Jamal let’s go find your desk and let them talk for a bit.” You say to the little boy and then he’s off searching for his name tag. He finds it and looks at you with a big smile.

“Oh my gosh look at you being a big 2nd grader and finding your name tag so fast!” You exclaim. “What did you think about Ms. Schemmenti?” You ask him.

“She’s nice. I like her.” He answers.

“I like her too. Ms. Schemmenti and I are friends so if you ever need to come to my classroom or need me to come here, you just let her know and she will help you, okay?”

“Okay.” he says.

You got him new fidget spinners for the new school year. You pull them out of the pocket of your blazer. “I got you new fidget spinners for the new school year so when you feel yourself start stemming you just pull these out and play with them just like you did last year. Okay bud?” You say to him.

He gasps loudly, making the redhead and his parents turn to us.

“It’s all good y’all, I just surprised him with new fidget spinners for the year.” You quickly explain.

You turn back to Jamal. “Thank you Ms. (Y/L/N)!” He exclaims.

You chuckle. “You’re very welcome. Now where’s a good place to put the new fidget spinners?’ You ask him.

“Ummmmm….” He pauses to think. “In my desk?” He asks.

“That’s right bud! Fidget spinners always go back in your desk when you’re done using them.” You say to him, holding up your hand for a high five.

You sit with Jamal as his parents finish up talking with Melissa. You stare at the gorgeous woman with a big stupid grin on your face, still in disbelief that she chose you and that you were having your first date with her tonight.

#abbott elementary #fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #lesbian #queer #wlw #pansexual #biseuxal #Spotify

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cdragons · 5 months

Text

Bound by Embroidered Chains - Aemond Targaryen x Seamstress!OC x Jacaerys Velaryon - Chapter One

Prologue

Summary: Dragons have a habit in hoarding the prettiest of jewels, and pearls are of no exceptions.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ Obsessive Behavior (we all knew this was coming), tiny!Aemond is delulu, tiny!Jace is delulu, Dark Themes, not betaread we burn like Harrenhal, etc. Also translations for Valyrian will be added at the bottom! Also I used an online translator for the High Valyrian, so it may not be great 🫠

Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you all so much for the amazing support for this story's prologue, I did NOT expect so many positive reviews! I'm sorry this took so long, but I had a ton of applications and finals. But since I am on winter break, hopefully I will be able to upload more fics! Happy Holidays and big shoutout to @valeskafics, who continues to be the HOTD fanfic writing ICON that we all know and love! If you liked reading this work, reblog and comment if you want to be tagged in future installments of this work! Also I apologize for any grammatical errors, I wanted to post this as soon as possible.

You have known your entire life that you were going to be one of the many seamstresses that serviced the Royal Family.

By the age of three, your mother would teach you how to begin your very first stitches, which soon shifted to learning the most complicated patterns of embroidery. You still remember the tears in her eyes as you presented the silk-woven handkerchief that had lovely little purple and blue flowers embroidered on the borders for her birthday. Your face flushed to an almost too bright red when she insisted on showing all the other royal seamstresses and tailors your first handkerchief. But it made you smile in remembering how big her smile was that week, as she was so pleased by how much you’ve progressed at such a young age.

When you were only six, your mother had begun to teach you how to properly extract the dye from beautiful flowers and the scales of brightly-colored insects. So skilled and nimble were your fingers that you even gave your childhood playmate, Aemond Targaryen, a thick green wool cloak with green and silver dragon embroidery. The cloak’s wool had been dyed by your hand with copious amounts of goldenrod and indigo flowers. You then carefully stitched silk to line the inside of the cloak to prevent him from overheating, as even the harshest winters in the Crownlands were hardly anything compared to the summers in the North. It had caught you off-guard in the almost too-tight embrace he locked you in, but you eagerly reciprocated as you could tell he appreciated the gift more than words could describe.

It was not just a gift for is name-day from a childhood companion, but also a way to reassure him that he will one day have a dragon. And even if the gods do not grant him worthy in their eyes, he would always be considered a prince worthy of the Targaryen name in yours. After all, there were not many princes that would willingly spend all their free time with a lowly seamstress’ daughter – even if the supposed seamstress that was your mother was so heavily favored by the Queen.

“Pearl,” came a voice with a tone far too serious despite its youth, “what are you doing in the Godswood?”

You lifted your head from old tome you were studying, only to see a young boy of only nine name-days, that stood as straight as one of the stone pillars that stood in the Sept of Baelor. His white locks nearly blinded you with how the sunshine seemed to reflect on them.

“Well my prince, as you can clearly see, I have decided to take advantage of this fine day to do a bit of studying of my own.” You lifted the near ancient tome on your lap to show him the title, Myths and Legends of the Jade Seas.

Whatever outwardly beauty the book possessed had long diminished, the spine was bent from the hundreds of hours spent looking through its contents and the letters were near faded to a dull grey as the pages yellowed from age. But the colors of the ink remained as vibrant as when they were first painted on the frail sheets, accompanied by beautiful imagery of magical dragons and elusive mermaids. The details were so fine and intricate that it felt as if you only needed to touch the ink in order to be transported into the stories. You remembered how you begged either your mother or father to read it to you every night, as utterly transfixed by the colors back then as you remained so now.

“You are more than welcome to join me, but if – and only if – you share one of those apples hiding in your knapsack.”

Finally showing an expression appropriate for his age, the young prince reached in his pouch to show two gorgeous apples – the skin was practically gleaming in the sun as your mouth watered for its taste. Aemond handed one to you as he sat by your side underneath the plentiful shade of the heart tree. Scooting over to make room on the overgrown root you sat on, you eagerly showed him strange text.

“Look Aemond!” you exclaimed as you shoved the book to his nose. “This book says that there were dragons in Yi Ti! Isn’t that amazing?”

Aemond looked at you as if you had suddenly grown two heads and five eyes. “How can there be dragons in Yi Ti? All the dragons save the ones in the dragonpit and the rocky shores of Dragonstone had perished in The Doom that sunk Valyria. Everyone knows that pearl.”

“These dragons are different! According to my kepa, Yi Ti dragons don’t even need wings to fly!”

The young prince rolled his eyes at that. “How could they fly if they don’t have wings? Even Carraxes the Blood Wrym has wings, and he looks like an overgrown red snake.” Honestly, his pearl could be so silly. “Besides, what would your father know? He’s a bastard from the Iron Islands, that’s nowhere near the Jade Seas.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “He heard so on his travels with Lord Velaryon and Prince Laenor! Apparently, these dragons use magic and live in the ocean. And they don’t even breathe fire! They make it rain and control the oceans!”

“…Pearl, I think you’ve been spending too much time making those dyes. The fumes must have gotten to your head.”

You openly gaped at your friend’s comment, completely in shock for how blatantly he dismissed you. It made you want to pound your fists on his person until he took it back. So naturally, you did just that.

“Aemond Targaryen, you take that back right now!” you shrieked. Although your actions told otherwise, the smile on your face showed that you took no true offense to his words. If anything, it pleased you to know that you could still make the stone-faced prince giggle as a boy should at his age.

“Never!”

As the two of you giggled and played, several pairs of wandering eyes spied and grimaced at the distasteful display. Although your friendship with the next generation of the royal family was no secret, much of the court disapproved of how highly the royal family thought of you and Prince Aemond’s friendship. After all, he was the second born prince of House Targaryen, born of King Viserys and Queen Alicent. By the time the Targaryen prince could toddle, great things were expected from him. From a very early age, he immersed himself in his studies befitting of a prince of Westeros. You, on the other hand, were only the daughter of a seamstress and a bastard knight who became a lord of a holding so minor that it had no name. You only skills were that you could make pretty dye, and stitch pretty pictures with a needle and thread.

But he always treated you kindly and defended you whenever his eldest brother decided to use you as his latest target for mockery. You were a precious pearl – his precious pearl – Aegon may be his brother, but he could never love Aegon as much as he loved you. True, your father being a bastard did you no favors in the Red Keep’s court, but Aemond would never tell you that himself. Instead, he openly acknowledged his bravery and commended his loyalty to the Crown. After all, how many bastards can boast that they saved the Lord Corlys Velaryon, holder of the Driftwood Throne, from a siege of pirates during one of the lord’s many voyages to Essos?

In turn, you always made sure to provide comfort and support whenever his brother and nephews decided to pick on him. Without fail, he would seek out your company – his eyes red and puffy, while his cheeks were wet from hastily wiped tears. You would take his hands and the two of you would venture out to the library’s more secluded sections. You made sure to pack whatever you have been working on with you. While you were glad that he came to you for comfort, it would do little good for either of you if you were to be punished for not completing whatever tasks your mother assigned you.

“Who cares if you don’t have a dragon?” you once asked him as the two of you laid next to each other, surrounded by books. “There are plenty members of the Targaryen line that did not have dragons, but they still lived out important lives in serving their family however they could. King Jaehaerys was considered a great ruler for how he served the realm– not for riding Vermithor. And even if you had a dragon, is that all you wish to be known for? Your grandfather, Baelon the Brave, was wise and beloved by the small folk for how he tried to make their lives easier. But all he is known for in history books is how he burned down Dorne with Vhagar.”

“Better to be known for a dragon than to disappear, not being known for anything – not even a dragon worthy of the Targaryen name.”

Sitting up against a bookshelf, you repositioned Aemond to lie his head on your thighs. Luckily the candlelight made the area dark enough so that you wouldn’t see his ears turning red. Instead, he buried his face in the soft cotton of your blue tunic as you stroked his soft silver white locks. Although his heart was beating erratically, your sweet scent along with your body’s suppleness was enough to take away any ire left in him.

“Stop that,” you ordered, “you will not be forgotten, don’t be so dramatic.” Eyes softening at his tense shoulders, you eased on the sternness of your tone. “Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.”

You pretended not to notice how tightly he clenched your dress as you ignored the how warm the spot where his hot tears grew.

As you continued to stroke his hair, Aemond made a silent vow that when he finally claimed a dragon, you would be the first person he would ride it with. He thought about how his bastard nephews would always try to take you from him, especially Jace, how he despised that boy. No, your touches would belong to him, and only him. Your sweet words and kind demeanor were his to cherish. You were his pearl – his pearl – and no one else’s, especially not the pretend Targaryen that was Jacaerys Strong.

Yes, it pleased Aemond to know that he was your best friend. But sometimes it frustrated him in how you refused to take him seriously as a man. For example, he once announced that when he claimed his dragon, he would finally be a noble dragon knight who would protect you from the most vicious of beasts. No matter how he insisted on his sincerity, you only rolled your eyes at the proclamation. You told him that you had no need for a knight, let alone a dragon knight. You had your dearest kepa for protection, and there was no finer knight in all the Seven Kingdoms in your eyes. So silly was his pearl indeed.

“Ashi’!” a new voice called out, interrupting the comfortable silence between him and his pearl. It belonged to the king’s eldest grandson, Prince Jacaerys Strong Velaryon, heir to the Iron Throne after his mother, Princess Rhaenyra. “Your mother is looking for you! She said that she needs your help with Mother’s clothes!”

“Alright!” When you stood from you spot, you made sure to brush away any dirt or debris left on your skirts. You gathered your mother’s book in both arms when you made your way to the prince. “But why did my muña not send one of her attendants instead? It would not have been difficult to find me. Everyone knows that I enjoy reading under the Hearts Tree in the Godswood during my spare time. Are you not busy with your own duties, my prince?”

Straightening his posture to appear taller, Jace did his best to sound as authoritative as his father had taught him. “I just finished my lessons for the morning, and I volunteered to escort you. Besides, I figured that it would do me some good in practicing escorting you. I’ll need to do it in the future when I am king after my mother.” His round freckled cheeks reddened to a rosy hue at that last part.

Not at all catching the terribly obvious implication, you shrugged off his words as you figured that he meant that he was using you as practice for whichever future noble lady he would court in the future. However, the suggestion was not at all lost on your friend, who was still sitting on the overgrown root, glaring at his eldest nephew with a fury that rivaled the Great Doom that sunk Valyria.

“Well, we should be on our way then. Come on Aemond, we should get going!” You held out your held for your friend to hold on to, but were quickly interrupted by the brown-haired Targaryen at the side.

“He can’t! I mean-” stammered Jace as did his best in thinking of an excuse, “-I’m afraid my uncle cannot join us. You see, um – his mother, the Queen, requested his presence in her solar.”

“I’m sure my mother won’t mind waiting for a few moments while I join you in escorting my pearl to her favorite friend, nephew.” This wasn’t a lie on Aemond’s part. While he didn’t like the idea in keeping his mother waiting for him, he despised the thought of you being alone with the Strong Knight’s eldest bastard even more. Besides, his mother adored you as if you were her own daughter. It would have gone without saying that she would be happy with her son spending time with her best friend’s daughter.

“But why would you want to risk it, uncle?” Jacaerys wasn’t going to let his selfish uncle hog all of your attention. You were his friend too! It wasn’t fair that he had find crumbs of your time and affections, while his uncle got to feast on your smiles and laughter. He had spent hours with the dragon keepers of the dragonpit to help him train Vermax, all so that he could finally show you how close he was in riding him! But you were always too busy comforting his stupid dragonless uncle!

Enough was enough. Jacaerys may have been a Velaryon like his father, but he was also a Targaryen like his mother. It was he who carried the dragon’s blood, and dragons took what they desired or felt what they deserved. And he desrved to be with you more than Aemond.

“It’s alright Aemond, we’ll talk more later! Let’s go Jace, we shouldn’t keep our mothers waiting any more than we have.” Grabbing his hand before walking out of the gardens, you weren’t able to see the younger prince throw a triumphant smirk to his uncle before once more facing you with the story of how Luke accidentally got egg in his hair.

Watching his literal bastard of a nephew walk hand-in-hand away with his pearl, Aemond Targaryen felt his fury grow more potent with each step. He hated that you called his nephew by his nickname, all while he had none. What’s worse was the fact that you allowed him to refer to you as “Ashi.” What a ridiculous name, only a lowborn such as his nephew would refer to someone as precious as you as something as study and simple like “Ashi.” You were a pearl – his pearl, in fact. A fact that he felt was important to emphasize as he watched your head being thrown back in laughter. His anger grew to an all-time high when he watched you ruffle Jacaery’s hair with abundant affection.

Not wanting to make a scene, he walked to his mother’s chambers in fuming silence. While her presence wasn’t yours, maybe he could think of a plan to get you away from his whore of a sister and her illegitimate offspring.

If worse comes to worst, he might need to recruit his sister to his cause. He knew that Helaena would especially be thrilled in receiving your presence. You were the only one besides your parents that did not treat his beloved sister like an oddity. If you were not with Aemond, you were often found stitching with the young princess. It seemed that you were the only person in the entire world that could get her to smile.

Such a sweet girl, his pearl. Someone so kind was not meant to endure the presence of lowly bastards – even if they did technically carry royal blood.

He needed to come up with something fast.

Translations:

“Nyke pendagon iksā brilliant. Eman dōrī rhēdan anyone else qilōni kostagon ȳdragon Valyrio Eglie hae sȳrī hae ao. Kostā solve problems bona aegon ēza trouble lēda during aōha lessons lēda se Giēñatī. Aemond, iksā ñuha sȳrje raqiros. Gaomagon daor ivestragon kesā sagon daor rūnas.” - “You’re brilliant. I’ve never met anyone else who can speak such fluent High Valyrian, especially at your age. You can solve problems that Aegon has trouble with during your lessons with the Maester. Aemond, you are my best friend. Don’t say that you will be forgotten.”

Tagging:

@valeskafics, @faesspace, @aphroditesmoon, @dreaming-for-an-escape, @nellychick, @asa-do-your-thing, @arcielee, @bellamys-girl1, @immyowndefender, @xxlovingfandomsxx, @elinedjarin, @meg-egg-blog, @marvelescape, @mandiiblanche, @lokiofasgard12, @boxedpandas, @anewpersonthatexists, @toodlesxcuddles, @mckiquinn, @cvspians, @aemondslove

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd au #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon fic #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon x oc #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x oc #aemond x reader #aemond x oc #reader insert

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kittyball23 · 3 months

Note

Hey, Kittyball23, I was hoping for the fanfiction of the birth of the Broppy baby, whenever you're ready to publish it.

Ready now!

Baby (a Trolls fanfic)

“Ugh, how long is this gonna take?”

Clay looked at Viva as though she had grown a second head. “How long?” he asked. “Rhonda’s parked just outside the clearing. We’re literally two seconds away from reaching it!”

“Yeah!” John Dory piped up. “Hold your horses there, girlie, we’ll get to camping soon enough!”

“No, not that,” Viva clarified. “I mean, how long until the baby?!” she said, tossing the pleading eyes at her younger sister, and glancing longingly up into her bright pink hair, where she and Branch’s unborn egg was still safely incubated.

Poppy giggled. “Viva, it’s not long now! It’s any day!”

“I know,” she moaned, “but, heck, how do you know when it’s gonna happen?”

“We don’t,” Branch explained. “But Dr. Moonbloom said when it’s time, we’ll know. Especially once Poppy says - “

“The baby is coming!!”

“Exactly!”

“No, Branch!” Poppy cried, grabbing onto his arm. “The baby IS coming! It’s coming, like, NOW!”

The blue troll froze. “Now? Like now, NOW?!”

Poppy responded only with situating herself at the nearest mushroom that could support her weight and bracing.

It was at this point that everybody else began to react.

Viva was absolutely bursting at the seams. “OmigoshomigoshomiGOSH!!!” she gushed, over and over, bouncing around in an uncontrolled ball of energy.

Floyd offered reassurance. “Everything will be alright, Poppy, just remember to breathe.”

“Floyd’s right! Just stay calm and breathe, Poppy, BREATHE!” Branch said, although he himself was not as calm in his tone of voice, and sounded more like he was ready to have a heart attack. Smacking a leaf mask onto his face he approached Poppy with frantically waving arms. “Just remember your training!”

“Training?” John Dory blurted out next to him. “What training? We don’t have any training!”

“NOT YOU, man!” Clay cried. “He’s talking about Poppy!”

But the Pop Queen brushed them all off. “Guys, we don’t need any training. All I literally have to do is just put out my arms” - she put them out - “and get ready to hug!” she demonstrated, beaming.

“Luck favors the prepared!” Branch countered.

“I think you mean the crazy-prepared,” Bruce amended, “but, I have to agree with Branch on this one. It’s better to take at least some precautions.” With that, the experienced father began to shout out orders. “All right, you get some towels,” he said, motioning to Clay, “and you get some hot water,” he said, motioning to Floyd. “And - “

“What can I do?” John Dory asked, grinning hopefully.

Bruce’s eyes widened, having not exactly thought of a task for their oldest brother - aside from standing out of the way. “Err…”

“Come on, I’ve got tons of supplies that could be helpful! Look!” He reached into his green hair and pulled out a frying pan. “Ah, see? This will work, right?”

“Yes,” Bruce said sarcastically. “And I know just how…” He snatched it from his hands, and whacked JD upside the head!

“OUCH!” the Troll whined. “What was that for?”

“Does it look like we’re frying chicken?! Or scrambling eggs?” “WHATT’YOU MEAN THE EGG IS SCRAMBLED??”

Bruce whirled around at the sound of his frantic younger brother’s voice. His younger brother, whose eye was twitching, and was just about on the edge of a nervous breakdown!

“WHOA Branch, chill, I wasn’t talking about you guys’ egg!” Bruce attempted to clarify. “Everything is going splendid. Right, Poppy?” he called out to his sister-in-law.

“I’ll say it has,” Poppy giggled, “Jr.’s been enjoying the whole show!”

“See, Branch?” Bruce said to him. “There’s nothing to worry abou - “

“Jr.?” Branch questioned, interrupting.

“Jr.?” Clay and Floyd echoed, having just returned with the items that they were sent to get.

Slowly, all five brothers glanced over towards Poppy’s direction -

- and their breaths were taken away at the sight that met them.

Because right there - cradled in her arms and with her Auntie Viva gushing over them - was the baby, having hatched as the frantic new father was flustering about.

OUR baby, Branch reminded himself as he met Poppy’s sparkling fuschia gaze with calm, yet emotional, teary eyes.

“Poppy…” he whispered, touched, heart so full of love that no other feeling was possible to be occupying his emotions.

Bruce recognized this moment - having felt it so many times before himself, when Brandy had had their children - and ushered their brothers away.

“All right, come on, guys,” he said, “it’s time to give them some privacy.”

“But the baby!” John Dory exclaimed, clearly wanting to meet his niece or nephew.

“I’m sure we’ll have our chance,” Floyd said optimistically, patting him on the back.

“Well… okay,” JD said, pouting in a way that made him not at all look like the eldest of their bunch, but ultimately complying.

“And that goes for you, too, Viva,” Clay said with a meaningful look.

“Aw…” She pouted, but knew he was right, and followed him. Viva took one last peek over her shoulder before heading off. “Kinda makes me wanna have one of my own,” she said, casting a look heavy with implication at him.

Clay blushed. “O-oh! Well, um, I, um… maybe it will happen one day,” he replied.

She snuggled beside him and grinned. “That would be great.”

And as they trekked off, it was only Branch and Poppy left to themselves.

“Come on,” Poppy said, gesturing to him from where he was still a distance away. “She wants to meet you.”

“It’s a girl?” he asked, mystified.

Poppy nodded, and indeed, Branch could see the little lashes on her eyes and the adorable little smile that looked so much like her mother’s that it took his breath away. He, however, could see his own features on the child as well, indicative with her indigo hair, and bluish skintone. Slowly, he moved forward, each step becoming lighter and more eager than the next, until finally he was next to them.

He looked down at the baby.

The baby looked up at him.

Both smiled at each other.

“She’s… gorgeous,” he finally said.

The baby sweetly giggled in response.

He reached out, ready to caress her, but paused. “Can I… touch her?”

Poppy gave him a baffled look. “Can you? You’re the father! Of course you can!”

She transferred her to Branch’s awaiting arms, the baby giggling again.

“Daddy’s silly, isn’t he?” Poppy said, smirking.

Branch would’ve thought of a comeback, but he was completely enraptured by the small child he was holding. The most wonderful representation of their love for one another, and the greatest gift she had given him; his entire being seemed to glow with pride and love, and a warm feeling filled every corner of him.

"She's wonderful, isn't she?" Poppy sighed, equally as fascinated.

"Yeah..." he replied, and then spoke to the baby. "It's great to finally meet you... um..." Branch faltered, realizing that he didn't even know exactly what to call her!

"Oh, right, we need a name!" Poppy stated excitedly. She hummed in thought for a second, and then came up with a suggestion. "How about... Baby Branch?"

"Uh, she's a girl."

"I know, I'm kidding," she giggled. "It's just, she wouldn't even be this cute if it weren't for you, right?"

Branch chuckled. "I beg to differ," he said, nudging her playfully, in a way that let her know that she was also a contributor to the baby's adorableness. But when he tried to think of a name that would be unique and suitable, his mind was drawing a blank.

Poppy could see this, and she asked, “What was your grandma’s name?”

“Rosiepuff,” he answered.

“How about that?” she suggested.

“Really?”

“It’s nice, don’t you think? And I like it.”

It is. But Branch had another idea. “How about just Rosie?” It was an homage to his grandmother, and also allowed their baby to have her own distinction.

“Rosie,” Poppy repeated, testing it out, and liking it very much. She wasn’t the only one who liked it. The baby squirmed and smiled in response.

“I think that would work,” she agreed, first leaning in to peck little Rosie on her forehead, and then sharing a kiss with Branch. He wrapped an arm around Poppy’s shoulder and cuddled the baby close to them with the other, fully content with the decision and the new life produced.

“Can we come see now?”

The new parents looked up to find Viva and the rest of the bros, huddled together some paces away, seeming all-too-ready to greet the newborn.

They laughed. “Yes, you can,” Branch assured, feeling much more relaxed than he did before.

Viva beamed. “YAY!” She whizzed over and was the first to reach her sister’s side. “AWW, sis! I’m so happy for you!” Then she peered down at the baby and all but died from the sheer overload of delight. "Oh my gosh, helloooOOOO!" she gushed, in just about the same way she did when first meeting Poppy and Branch on their journey to Mount Rageous. "My name's Viva! Or, in your case, AUNTIE Viva!"

"Didn't you already introduce yourself, V?" Poppy giggled.

"It doesn't hurt to do it again!" Viva exclaimed, and then grabbed onto Clay's arm. "Oh, Clay, isn't she the most precious little thing you've seen?!"

Clay sucked in a breath, looking like he was trying to keep himself in control. "I promised myself I wouldn't cry… I promised myself I wouldn’t cry," he mumbled, looking like he was very much on the verge of bursting into joyous tears.

Next to him, Floyd's lip trembled and his eyes misted over. "I didn't," he admitted, and then promptly broke into a sob.

"On behalf of all of us, Branch, congratulations," Bruce said, smiling proudly at his brother. "From one dad to another, I think you're gonna be a great father." And then, to Rosie he said, "And I have a feeling you're gonna have plenty of playdates with my kiddos."

John Dory jumped in at this. "Yeah! And just wait till you meet your cousin Rhonda!"

Bruce looked at him bewilderedly. “Cousin?”

JD rolled his eyes. “DUH! That’s how cousins work, right? Children of siblings? Am I right?” He extended his arms out like it was so obvious.

“But… But Rhonda’s not actually your child!” Bruce pointed out.

JD sighed. “Still going on about that? Sheesh.” Sure his daughter might be a 3-foot-long caterbus and not a little trolling, but she was still his daughter!

“Anyway,” Bruce said, not wanting to touch on the subject any longer and drawing his attention to the Trolls of the hour, “Congrats!”

Branch smiled, grateful for all his brothers sincerity in their praise. "Thanks, guys… really. You're all gonna be great uncles."

"Or in John Dory's case, a great-great uncle," Clay joked.

John Dory beamed, not quite getting it. "Thanks, bro!"

"He meant it cuz you're old," Bruce said, smirking mischievously.

JD scoffed. "HEY!"

But his mood dissolved when Rosie smiled up at him, amused by her eldest uncle. "Awww, look at you, girlie. You got your mom and pop all over ya! And if you don't believe me... hooo! Have I got some Bitty B photographs for YOU to see!"

Branch gasped and shot him a murderous look. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh, I would," John Dory teased, "but right after this!" And then he hugged Branch tightly, very close to smothering him under the weight of his affection.

"John Dory!" Branch muffled, but found it to be a useless effort trying to worm his way out of the hug, with the way that the other bros were surrounding him in a huge embrace as well! His protests were ignored, especially when Poppy encouraged the matter by calling out "HUG TIME, EVERYONE!" Baby Rosie was carefully cuddled in the midst of it all, everyone beyond elated at the prospect of their expanded family.

And what else could Branch do in that moment? Well, nothing except relishing in that feeling of being surrounded by the ones he loved and who loved him.

That’s what.

#trolls #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #viva trolls #john dory #spruce trolls #clay trolls #floyd trolls #brozone #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball answers #brodacious fanfiction

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irrevocableloves · 8 months

Text

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter one: the city of forks welcomes you

masterlist ౨ৎ chapter two

summary: y/n swan has lived in forks all of her life, but when she takes her summer-long vacation to california to visit her mother, she returns to a strange new family accompanying her small town.

warnings: swearing, angst

words: 1.8k

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so so long and tbh i haven't written a fanfic since i was 12... and i'm fr 22, but i've ran out of twilight fanfics to read (i've been waiting weeks for one specific one to update and i'm going crazy)... so anyways !! hope you enjoy !!

Opening my eyes, I was greeted with the trees of Forks, Washington. After an almost four hour drive, I could sense that I was nearing my home as the city was nowhere to be found. Instead it was replaced with deep green trees, dim skies, and the small shops that swept by as my dad drove.

I liked Forks, more than I probably should. Everyone here, mostly the kids, sulked about big bright cities where the sun would actually make an appearance. They longed for the liveliness that Forks had never given them.

But me? I secretly adored the quietness of it all. But of course, I had a disadvantage. Every summer I bathed in the sun rays of California, visited the busy cities, the warm beaches, and the overall liveliness that was craved from everyone else. But I was drained. Normally, it would be the opposite from any other person, but I always loved the cold. Ever since I was a kid, my little brain was wired to believe that Forks was almost like Christmas every single day of the year. So, rain, snow, or even ice (even with the ungodly amount of times I've slipped) never had me in too big of a rut.

With my mom back in California, though I loved her to death, was an absolute headache most of the time. And unlike my dad, she hovered. But, it wasn't her fault. The summer is the only time she had me, the rest were reserved with Charlie, which had resulted in this summer's mishaps: she begged me to stay longer. One would think that school would be an easy get out, but she knew the first month was nothing but dry introductions, syllabi, and effortless assignments. It was partly my fault. I was never one to turn her down, perhaps it was guilt because maybe she and I felt deep down that I favored my father more because who could ever turn down a chance to live in the perfect bustling city of San Francisco over Forks.

So I stayed. But now, it's the beginning of October. Thankfully, I was able to get in contact with the school in order to get all of my classes in order, as well as the help of my best friend, Angela, who emailed me all of the assignments. Jessica on the other hand, filled me in on all of the gossip. Her phone calls consisted of talks about her massive crush on Mike as well as the new and "totally weird" (as Jessica put it) family. "Suuupperrr pale, but weirdly GORGEOUS. I mean this Edward guy, he's wow. I swear if Mike doesn't make a move soon... I wonder if I could make him jealous?" The conversations were mostly one-sided, always either complaining about Mike's obliviousness or never catching that new guy's attention.

Now that I knew I was caught up on everything to do with school, all I wanted was to bury myself in bed and prepare for an alarm that hasn't been set in months.

I awoke to the sound of a car honking outside my window, assuming it was nothing, I settled back into my pillows, throwing my purple duvet back over your head for hopefully another thirty minutes of sleep.

"Y/N/N!" I heard my dad's voice accompanied by one of his famously loud whistles from outside of my window. That's when I finally got up and peered over with squinting eyes to see my father coming out of a car that most definitely wasn't his squad car.

Once my vision settled, I saw a green Volkswagen beetle parked in the driveway. No fucking way. I sprinted down the stairs and flung the front door open to see my father with a wide grin, gesturing the keys in front of my face.

"For me? You're joking?" I said in complete shock.

"You want me to be joking? Cause if so I can just bring this right back to Billy and let him sell it to some other geezer."

"No! No! No! I mean... Thank you, dad. Oh my god, how did you guys even find this?"

"Well, consider it a late birthday present. Billy and Jacob found it back in May for your birthday and decided to fix it up for ya, free of charge, but I paid 'em of course."

"Thanks dad and how about we invite Billy and Jacob over sometime and I'll cook? As a thank you?"

"You bet."

Once I parked in front of the school, my group of friends welcomed me with open arms, with Angela and Jessica squealing about how much they missed you and the boys, mostly just Mike, trying to awkwardly hug me.

I knew Mike had a crush on me, since third grade to be exact, which only made it worse for my friendship with Jessica, which made it worse for Lauren, Jessica's bestest friend to have an even better reason to despise me.

The first four classes: English, Government, Trigonometry, and French were surprisingly a breeze thanks to the assignments either Angela or the teachers sent over while I was away.

While at lunch, a new, unfamiliar bunch emerged from the cafeteria doors. They were beautiful... and also extremely pale even for Forks. So, this was the family Jessica was practically drooling over?

"Who are they?" I questioned anyways.

Jessica leans in, being careful to whisper, "It's the family I was telling you about. Dr. and Mrs. Cullen's foster kids. They all moved down here from Alaska like last month."

I studied the first girl who walked in, bleached blonde hair, almost black eyes that were almost unsettling, she wore a thin grey coat and a knitted white scarf that matched her icy skin, and a necklace with a large charm that looked to be a family crest of some sort.

"The blonde girl, Rosalie, and the big dark-haired guy, Emmett..." Jessica continued.

More of the family gathered in slowly, the blonde was linking hands with a man with jet black hair, with the same family crest residing on his wrist.

"... they're a thing. I'm not even sure that's legal." Jessica grimaced.

Angela piped in, "Jess, they're not actually related."

"But they live together and all wear that weird creepy crest like some sort of cult. And the little dark haired girl, Alice, she's really weird..."

Despite Jessica's remarks, Alice was the one who caught my eye the most so far and not in a negative way. She reminded me of a fairy almost with her pixie-like hair cut, her style, and the way she carried herself, which was pretty whimsical in a way. Her arms were locked with a man beside her, bleached blonde just as Rosalie was.

"... she's with Jasper, the blonde who looks like he's in pain" Jessica continued on, "I mean, Dr. Cullen's like this foster dad slash match maker."

"Maybe he'll adopt me." Angela giggled.

The last Cullen to enter, I assumed it was Edward, the man Jessica claimed to be weirdly gorgeous and 'wow'. 'Wow' was the perfect word to explain how I felt as he strode down the cafeteria. I couldn't keep your eyes off of him, even as he went past your table, I was oddly captivated by his presence. He had a lanky body, matched with the same pale skin as his siblings, bronze hair and striking smirk. You could've sworn he heard Jessica's whispered remarks from across the cafeteria.

"He's totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently, no one here is good enough for him. Like I care." She does. "Anyway, don't waste your time."

"I wasn't planning on it." I looked away before his eyes could find mine and once I did, I felt as if holes were practically burned at the back of my head. Was he staring?

Out of curiosity, I peered over my shoulder, quickly glancing, seeing his eyes on mine and quickly turning my eyes back, slowly hiding behind my hair.

Before I walked into Biology, I shuffled through my backpack to look for the assignments I'd done in your time away, settling them in my hands as I walked through the door.

Greeting Mr. Banner, I handed him my completed assignments that were neatly put together with a paper clip.

"Finally nice to see you Miss Y/L/N, how was your summer?" Being great at biology put you at an advantage, not only for assignments, but because Mr. Banner didn't question much about my month long disappearance, but I couldn't say the same about PE...

"It was good, thank you."

"Well that's great, I'm glad! And I appreciate your completed assignments, not even people attending have it all quite done like you have!" He rambled. "So! Your seat... There's a seating chart, but there should be an empty seat I left for you...,yes! Right there, next to Mr. Cullen." Mr. Banner pointed to the right side of the classroom to the seat next to the Cullen boy.

Edward's eyes once again felt as if they burned through my own, staring at me as if you had wronged him in some way. The hatred in his eyes was well aware, but for what reason?

With each step I took, the more disgust in his features appeared, almost as if he was holding his breath. Did I stink or something? I attempted not to smell myself to see if perhaps I had raging body odor or even a bad breath that radiated from across the classroom. No one else seemed to have an issue besides him.

Once I was sat, I heard him mutter into a cough, but I only made eye contact with his beading black eyes and said nothing at all. He only pushed the microscope towards me slowly, being careful to not come any closer to me as if he would catch something.

I sighed loudly, making my annoyance well known. He only just tensed.

Throughout the entirety of the class, the tension continued. I even considered going up to Mr. Banner and asking to switch seats with someone, but that only sparked the possibility of Mike forcing Eric to switch seats and I honestly couldn't figure out which would be worse. So, I decided to suffer through the entire hour and perhaps learn to suffer the entire year partnered with a man who could hardly even look me in the eye without being utterly disgusted.

At first I was hurt, but the hurt swiftly turned into annoyance once the partner sessions began. He didn't even consult with me, rather he just scribbled as fast as he could, only of what he was able to see through the microscope, only handing it to me after to check his answers. All correct, surprisingly.

Staring at the clock, I was counting down the time until the bell. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Edward had gotten up, practically running out of the classroom before the bell had officially rung.

next chapter

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

#violent delights #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #twilight #twilight rewrite #twilight fanfiction #edward cullen fanfiction #robert pattinson #robert pattinson x reader #violent delights fanfiction #violent delights fanfic

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bloodycyrano · 3 months

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I want to lore dump about my BG3 storyline and OCs so bad, but at the same time I don't want to release any information before it would come out in the future chapters of my fanfic, so to stave off the dark urge, here's.... 🥁🥁🥁

Team Tadpole doing sweet things for each other part 2!

Sometimes, when Astarion has trouble resting at night, Gale will stay up with him and play chess- They started with card games, but Astarion cheats like a fox. He still cheats at chess, but not as often.

Karlach probably notices when her comrades are in pain after battle, and will hug a sack of rocks until they heat up to make a sort of makeshift heating pad for sore muscles.- Bonus points, She'll borrow some scented oils from Halsin to add an element of aromatherapy.

Gale has 100% done talis card readings for Team tadpole when they deal with heavy emotional stuff, if only to help them find their path forward. Maybe he isn't the best at verbal comfort, but magic is one thing he knows he can use for at least some benefit.

I feel like Gale also notices when people aren't dealing well with things, and will purposefully annoy Durge so they have someone to pick on and hopefully feel a little better afterwards. They're definitely the sort of friends that pretend to hate each other, but are there when you need them. Durge definitely brings out his petty side, but its all in good fun. Usually.

While maybe they have a bit of a rocky relationship, I also believe Durge would indulge Gales special interests and let him ramble about things, because they know what it's like to have to shut up to make other people happy. I also feel like Gale would return the favor and deliberately ask about weird, macabre things so that Durge actually has an excuse to bring up topics that interest them.

Wyll has a knitting hobby. You probably wouldn't expect it, but he definitely does. And he's really really good at it, too. He uses every holiday as an excuse to gift people things like socks, scarves, mittens, etc. And I mean EVERY holiday. Earth day, valentines day, national owlbear day (Which is totally not something he made up as an excuse to give people their presents early), etc. The thing is, he notices when people complain about their socks getting worn from traveling, and gets random ideas for gifts at 3 AM, and then spends the rest of the night knitting. He has also been known to make cute little knitted outfits for the group pets in the winter, because he thought Scratch was getting cold.

Adding onto this, Lae'zel is the only person Wyll is willing to go to for a blunt and honest opinion on the gifts he makes before he gives them. Lae'zel doesn't take this lightly, either. While maybe she doesn't show it, she takes this very seriously and is somewhat honored that Wyll came to her instead of anyone else.

Shadowheart tends to replenish Wylls yarn reserve without telling him as well. She asks Lae’zel what colours he's run out of, and then sneak some extra spools into his pack. Wyll still doesn't know who's been doing it, but he's thankful nonetheless. And it's one thing the cleric and the gith can actually be somewhat peaceful about.

Durge doesn't take all of their kills lightly. When it comes to someone they actually respected, there's a ritual they perform afterward that they read about in Withers old temple. They'll grind bone and ash into ink and take time to write out the names of those they respected, and bury it with the bodies. As well as little offerings as well. It isn't a short process either.. Durge will spend the entire night locked in their caravan burning incense, praying their name to Jergal in hopes that the spirit will find rest, and doing little things in honor of the dead.- It isn't hard for team tadpole to figure out when Durge has taken the life of someone they held a genuine respect for, and will be careful not to disturb them, or leave bones or herbs/flowers on the steps of their caravan. Karlach and Astarion will occasionally come to check on them. While maybe it doesn't happen often, it does happen. Withers was particularly surprise to begin receiving prayers after all this time, but it strengthened a sort of bond between the two.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 durge #dark urge #gale dekarios #baldurs gate tav #lae'zel #shadowheart #wyll ravengard #karlach #scenarios #writing prompt #bg3 scenarios #bg3 withers #jergal

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theladyragnell · 4 months

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Hi! Happy new year 😊 It just struck me you're a voracious reader with (I think) quite a few romance novels under your belt and a talent for writing romance yourself, so I come begging a favour for the beginning of the year: if I wanted to read the most fun and indulgent and giggle-inducing romance in 2024, what would you you recommend? I'm hoping for something not only well-written, but triumphantly and unapologetically in its genre, if that makes sense. Thank you so much for taking the time to read (let alone answer!) this ask!

Oh friend, I love reading romance novels, please, buckle in, let's have some fun! You seem to be looking for the flavor that I tend to refer to as romps, as opposed to the more serious and dramatic or erotica-flavored romances, so let me give you a bit of a selection of those.

Contemporaries: Jennifer Crusie is the absolute master of banter, for all her best works are pretty old at this point! Bet Me and Faking It have aged the best in my opinion. I read Alexandria Bellefleur's The Fiancee Farce last year, and if you've ever read and enjoyed a "whoops, we have to get married for this clause in my relative's will" fanfic this one's for you. The Neighbor Favor by Kristina Forest was one of my favorite romances from last year, though it's a bit less bantery than these others. Oh! Talia Hibbert! Her Brown sisters books are a thing of beauty and a joy forever (Ravenswood is also good, but a bit more serious in tone and we're going for romps here). Jasmine Guillory is also worth a try, lots of fun if maybe a little less banter-focused. Oh! And a shoutout for two action romcoms I read this year, Partners in Crime by Alisha Rai and To Have and to Heist by Sara Desai.

Historicals: Tessa Dare loves a bantery romance, give The Duchess Deal a try on for size! Last year I read The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian, which was a joy, and I hear a lot of good about Sebastian's m/m books too, though I haven't been able to dive into them yet. Away from the romps, Mary Balogh is one of my all-time favorites (but start with her newer work, particularly the Survivors' Club series), I've been enjoying Christina Britton a lot lately, and Eva Ibbotson's books for older readers have my heart forever and always. (I feel like this section is reading less enthusiastic than the contemporaries, but it's just that I read so many historicals that it's hard to remember which book with Duke in the title stands out!) Oh! Ravishing the Heiress by Sherry Thomas somehow hits my loves perfectly, though again not a romp, I've got a rather graver taste in historicals. And Olivia Waite's sapphic historicals! The Lady's Guide to Celestial Mechanics is the first one. And everyone recommends Courtney Milan, but The Duke Who Didn't is a true joy.

Fantasy: Fantasy romance is my genre crossover of the 2020s! It's my two favorite escapist genres mixed together, and when it hits the sweet spot it REALLY does. And my friend, I am looking you in the eyes and I am telling you to read T. Kingfisher's paladin books, starting with Paladin's Grace, if you have any interest at all in fantasy as a genre. (Fair warning: Kingfisher also writes horror, and takes great pleasure at least once per fantasy book of reminding you of that.) And now that I've given you the gateways, I'm also going to recommend you The Devotion of Delflenor by R. Cooper (it's not bantery, but I keep telling people, if you fall into my very specific sweet spot of having been in E/R fandom in 2013-2014 and having loved the Tortall books in your youth you NEED to read this, and even one or the other means you should, the pining is exquisite), The Sorceress Transcendent by Casey Blair, Olivia Atwater's Regency Faerie Tales series, and Troubled Waters by Sharon Shinn.

... Okay, you asked for one book and I gave you SO many. That is because romance has so many tones and moods and subgenres, and only you know which one is going to put the biggest smile on your face! Hopefully I have given you enough information to make the choice that is best and happiest for you.

#anonymous #answered asks #if anyone else wants some book recs for your 2024 lay your questions on me

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kywaslost · 9 months

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What’s up. I too have gotten hooked on Black Butler. After 3 years of not being in the fandom anymore. I have a fanfic idea for you.It’s a Ciel x reader so it’s going to be more on the angst side but still fluffy and funny if you look at it from an angle. It’s Ciel. C’mon.

So basically the reader is very similar to him. Being that she also has intense trauma and is extremely stoic and cold. On the other hand she’s also considered eerie and ominous looking. Soon Ciel after a while starts having feeling for the reader, he sees her as someone who understands him completely and fully. Ciel starts showing that he’s interested in being in a more intimate relationship with the reader other then just being partners. The reader of course rejects all these moves even though she also likes him, not only because he’s engaged but because she knows he’s a manipulator. After a long time of driving Sebastian insane with the pinning and rejecting, Lizzy finds out about Ciel’s feelings for the reader and confronts both of them. She’s lightly bitterly and is crying at first but she does want Ciel to be happy and is good friends with the reader (and she’s an Angel) so she doesn’t hold him back. Now the reader and Ciel are in a situation where they can show there feeling for each other freely but have no idea where to start.

Just so that you have a small reference to what I mean by a stoic and eerie looking reader I have a drawing of my Black Butler OC that you can take notes from (you don’t have to just here if you want lmfao)

Thank you, hopefully it’s not too long or complicated. You don’t have to write this if you don’t feel comfortable enough just tell me if you’re not going to write it or not. Have a good day!

Troubled Love - Ciel Phantomhive

A/N: I’m so sorry this took so long! This is a long one that I wanted to take time on and work on when I felt like I could write this to the best of my ability. First of all, your drawing is ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS!!! I’m literally in love with it! I hope this turned out ok! I also completely skipped over the part where the reader is an angel and didn’t see it until I finished this, so I hope it’s ok that I left that bit out. Let me know if you’d like me to rewrite this properly <3

Warning/s: mentions of night terrors, mentions of panic attacks (no descriptions)

You had met the Earl Phantomhive around the time his parents had passed. You had met the Phantomhive through the grapevine of the Queen’s ‘guard dogs’, and didn’t really get to know the young boy until he returned, demon butler by his side. It was then the two of you were paired for missions. The Queen saw similarities between the two of you, and thought it would be well for you to become friends with the Earl.

You see, due to your past, you weren’t the most sociable person out there. You preferred to keep to yourself, and refrained from interacting with others as much as you could. It played in your favor that most feared you, both due to your reputation with the queen as well as the way you presented yourself. It was almost as if no one could touch you.

Until you officially met Ciel. The two of you worked well together. What you lacked in skill and intelligence, he made up for, and vice versa. It also helped that Sebastian was there. In fact, the demon butler and his master took a liking to you, even going as far as inviting you to stay at the Estate when they learned that you didn’t have an official residence. You agreed hesitantly. While you were comfortable around the two, you couldn’t bear the thought of being vulnerable around them. You were traumatized at a young age, leaving you plagued with nightmares and flashbacks from time to time. Opening yourself up to Ciel was a huge step for you, one you were unsure how to handle.

Ciel, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He’d never admit it, partially due to his personality and partially due to his engagement to Lizzy, but the Earl had begun developing feelings for you. It was more than a petty middle school crush that other boys his age experienced. He had been feeling this way for quite some time now, and couldn’t quite name his emotions until he spoke of it with Sebastian. It was worth the endless teasing that lasted weeks, but Ciel had now finally realized how much he truly loved you. And now you’re going to be living with him.

Ciel was unsure of how to show his love for you without a) making it obvious, and b) letting Lizzy know. Don’t get him wrong, Ciel truly did like Lizzy and he didn’t want to do anything to hurt her, but he loved you more than her. The boy opted to spend time with you doing small things, such as reading together or just simply sitting in the same room as you as the two of you worked separately. You were hesitant of all this at first, because you were used to being alone so often, but over time you became more comfortable.

This time spent between the two of you went from silence to small chatter. Ciel would ask how your day has been, and you’d answer then return the question. It took months of living together and getting accustomed to each other’s emotions to begin discussing deeper topics. You were both severely traumatized children who never learned how to cope with said trauma. Sure, Ciel had Sebastian, but he was a demon and therefore was incapable of feeling human emotions. So he tried talking to you.

Ciel wouldn’t ever say much about the death of his family or the events that came afterwards, but he wanted to be vulnerable around you. The boy hoped that this would bring the two of you even closer, and then he’d be comfortable enough to confess his love for you. Except every time he tried to have a deep conversation, you would turn him down almost immediately. There was one week in particular when you were having vivid night terrors, causing you to get only a few hours of sleep a night. You would wake up screaming until you couldn’t anymore, and often suffered intense panic attacks afterwards. Usually Sebastian would try and help but you would only push him away, barely muttering about how you were alright and didn’t need any help.

These night terrors always woke Ciel, and after the third night he came bursting into your room in the place of Sebastian. He desperately tried to calm you down, to try and talk to you, but you refused his help. It broke his heart to see you this way, and to know that you were unwilling to accept his help hurt him even more. How could the two of you be together if you wouldn’t let him help you?

The next day during breakfast, Ciel offered to let you speak to him anytime about anything you needed. Whether it be to get something off of your chest, or just to rant about anything, he would be there for you. You weren’t sure how you felt about his offer, so you only nodded and took a bite of your food.

The Earl Phantomhive invited you on an afternoon walk after dinner. At first you hesitantly agreed, only because Sebastian would be following closely. Yet once you saw the extravagant clothing the boy was wearing, you quickly retreated back to your room and feigned illness. It took some convincing, but Ciel finally left you to ‘recover’. In reality, you curled up on the floor, leaning against the door as you silently cried to yourself.

You were so torn between your emotions. It was blatantly obvious that Ciel saw you as more than just a friend, and he wanted to take your relationship to the next level. You wondered if your own emotions were just as easy to see. You wouldn’t admit it just yet, but you were beginning to fall for Ciel yourself. Although you hadn’t opened up much to the boy, it was easy to feel comfortable and see him. The two of you shared similar pasts, and you hadn’t met anyone else that made you feel as safe and comfortable as the Earl did.

Despite your feelings for the boy, there was one major red flag following closely behind him. Ciel was a master manipulator. It was clear as day that Ciel knew just how to act to get what he wanted, knew what to say to get his way. You weren’t even sure if he had manipulated you at some point, he was that good. Oh, and he’s also engaged.

You wanted to take Ciel up on all of his romantic gestures. You wanted to go on late night walks with him, go to balls (even though neither of you particularly enjoyed them), or even just spend the evening together almost every night of the week. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to give in to the urge.

This carried on for months. Ciel would ‘discreetly’ ask you out on small dates, and you would turn him down and most commonly retreat to your room. Once you left, Ciel’s small smile would fall and he would immediately turn to Sebastian with downcast eyes.

Sebastian was the only one Ciel could confess to at this point. He couldn’t go to Izzy, obviously, and he couldn’t go to you, so he was left with his demon butler. It was a part of their bedtime routine now. Sebastian would dress Ciel for bed, asking him about his day and his plans for the next. Ciel would grumble about paperwork before quickly changing the subject to his failed attempts of asking you out. He’d seek advice from the demon before turning in for the night.

It wasn’t until six months after Ciel’s first attempt to ask you out that Lizzy was caught in the crossfire. It wasn’t intentional, and Ciel would have never said anything if he were aware of her presence.

Lizzy had planned another surprise visit and stay at the Phantomhive Manor. She had arrived later than expected due to an extreme thunderstorm causing a delay in travel. Upon arriving at the manor, she let herself in and immediately ran to where she assumed Ciel would be in his study as her maid carried in her baggage. Lizzy quickly but silently ran to Ciel’s study, throwing open the door.

“Ciel!” she squealed in the highest pitch her voice could achieve. “Supri– oh.” Lizzy frowned slightly when she noticed the empty room. It looked as though Ciel hadn’t been there in a while. Shaking her head, the girl grinned widely yet again when she could hear faint voices coming from down the hall. Upon further expectation, she realized the voices were coming from the library.

Elizabeth wasted no time in bursting into the room rather loudly, causing you and Ciel to quite literally jump out of your seats with fear. Ciel’s hand even ghosted over the firearm he had tucked into his boot.

“Ciel!” Lizzy squeals again. She runs over to the two of you, about to tackle the poor boy in a hug before realizing what was going on between the two of you.

You had to admit, this wasn’t the ideal position to see your fiance and your best friend in. It wasn't anything too terrible, but it could definitely raise some questions. You were practically laying in Ciel’s lap, your legs draped over his as your head rested against his shoulder. A book rested against your legs where Ciel was reading to you a mere moment ago. You both were dressed in your night clothes, and overall this was a very rare sight of Ciel.

Lizzy’s smile immediately dropped to a deep frown, her bright green eyes welling with tears. “Y/N? Ciel? What’s going on?”

You jumped out of Ciel’s lap and to the other side of the couch. Your heart was beating out of your chest, fear coursing through your veins. This is exactly why you never wanted to act on your feelings for Ciel, for fear of ruining not only his relationship with Lizzy, but also your own. “Lizzy,” Ciel says quickly, standing and tossing the forgotten book onto the couch. He tried to reach out to the girl but she only took a step back and wiped at her eyes.

“I should have seen it coming,” she chokes through a broken cry. “I knew this day would come.” It takes a moment for Lizzy to calm herself down, but she wipes the last of her tears away as Ciel tries to comfort her.

“It’s ok,” she cuts him off from his senseless babbling, pushing his outstretched arms away. “I’ve known for a long time that this day would come.” Glossy green eyes met your e/c ones as she smiled softly. “I can see how much the two of you love each other,” she confesses. “And as much as I love the two of you, I can’t bear knowing I am what is keeping you from being together.” Lizzy’s gaze shifted to her fiance. “I love you Ciel. So much that I want you to be happy.” Her warm hands slowly reached for his own, giving them a gentle squeeze. “So I’m ending our engagement.” Pressing one last kiss against Ciel’s cheek, Lizzy let go.

“I can only hope the best for the two of you.” Just like that, she was gone.

You and Ciel couldn’t bear to look at each other, let alone speak. You weren’t sure how to feel. You finally had the freedom to be with the man you were learning to love, yet at what cost? Did you just lose your best friend? What do you know? Ciel was asking himself the same questions. But it didn’t take long for him to drop beside you back on the couch, slowly turning to you.

“What do we do now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Ciel confessed. “To be honest, I think I need some time to process this.”

You nodded, then stood quickly. “Of course, I understand.” You retreated back to your bedroom as soon as possible, diving under the covers and staring at the ceiling. You were finally free to express your love for Ciel, yet unsure what the next steps were. It was going to take time to figure out your relationship status with the Earl, and what to do next, but it will be worth the wait.

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