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lovebugism · 11 months

Note

u ask for shy!reader here i come holding a request

shy reader who is used to ppl telling them they look better without glasses, only for steve to find out they actually do very much need them, especially to read

so steve finally encourages them to wear them more and make sure to tell them how cute they look with them

hi, angel! thanks for ur request! fellow glasses-wearers rise! (1.4k)

Six months, five days, and twelve hours — that’s how long Steve’s been your boyfriend. Not that he’s counting, of course. It takes him the same amount of time to find out that you wear glasses.

He always knew your vision wasn’t the greatest. You complained about it from time to time — the headaches and the blurriness — but he never thought it was bad because you never made a big deal about it. He figured it was more existential than urgent, the idea that you might need glasses in the future if your eyes ever worsened.

He didn’t know they were already worse.

It’s your first movie night together — “the first of many,” Steve lilted when he sat down on the couch beside you, with a bowl of popcorn in his hand and a kiss on your cheek. He liked the idea of that, of having a tradition with you. He liked knowing that a section of his busy week could be carved out just for the both of you.

And it’s not like you’ve never watched a movie together before. It’s just that usually, there are about five teenagers sandwiched between the two of you, not including Robin and Nancy.

The former always insists on sitting on Steve’s left and only occasionally sharing her popcorn. The latter sits next to you and, halfway through the film, has already managed to convince you to leave with her and do something more fun.

But now, at eight o’clock, tucked tenderly away in your apartment, it’s just the two of you.

And your terrible, terrible eyesight.

A quarter of the way through Beetlejuice, Steve catches you squinting at the television across the room.

You’re all wrapped up in his arms, lying on your sides on the small couch. Steve keeps you pressed against him to stop you from falling off the edge of it. One of his arms curls around your stomach and the other is balled into a fist to prop up his head.

He looks down at you, already smiling, and with a “Be honest, would you fuck Michael Keaton as Beetlejuice?” on the tip of his tongue. It fades when he notices your eyes are halfway closed.

For a second, he thinks you might be falling asleep. He can tell by your scrunched nose and quirked mouth that it’s something else entirely.

His hand squeezes your hip to get your attention. “Babe? You okay?”

“Huh?” you hum as you turn to him. The furrow between your brows dissipates when your eyes open to their fullest again.

“You’re squinting.”

Your mouth falls softly agape, as though in slight surprise.

You hadn’t noticed it, really. You hardly ever do, but it’s been happening a lot more recently.

Just a week ago, Nancy pointed out how closely you held her newspaper to your face while trying to read it. After that, Dustin had been trying to show you a new VHS at Family Video but had to come about ten steps closer for you to see what it was.

“Oh. I didn’t realize…”

“Do you have a headache?” Steve asks, bushy brows pinched in concern. “Do you wanna turn the movie off?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No. It’s fine.”

“Is it your eyes again? Can you see—”

“Yes, Steve,” you interject, laughing gently. “I can see the screen.”

“What’s the time say, then?”

“I can see,” you argue in a non-answer.

“Humor me.”

You huff. Then squint again.

The red numbers below the TV stand are mush. Your eyes try hopelessly to focus on them. With what you lack in eyesight, you make up for with confidence. “Nine… Thirty-six…” you answer with a nonchalant shrug.

Steve sputters out a laugh that fans against your cheek. He shakes his head in pity. “Babe…”

“What?”

“That’s not even close! It’s eight-fifty-five!” he chuckles with a pink smile and sparkling honey eyes.

You roll your eyes at him in response. He leans down to kiss your cheek when you turn away from him again.

“You gotta make an appointment to get your eyes checked, babe. You can’t just go through life not being able to see anything—”

“I have glasses,” you mumble.

“What? Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since, like, middle school,” you shrug. “I just don’t wear them.”

Steve, halfway offended, gapes at you in response. “…Why didn’t I know about this?”

“’Cause I don’t like wearing them. They make my eyes look funny. I hate it.”

“Where are they?”

“In my bedroom—” you answer absentmindedly, then whine when he starts to get up. “Steve, don’t! I’m comfortable!”

“I’ll be right back,” the boy promises.

He shoves the covers down and climbs over your legs to get off the couch. He presses another kiss to your cheeks before he goes, like he can’t stand the idea of not kissing you every chance he gets.

He finds your glasses in a thin leather case in your desk drawer. They’re simple, rounded things — rimmed with silver and pretty in their minimalism. He rushes them back to you with a boyish excitement fluttering like a butterfly in his chest.

No one’s ever been this thrilled to see someone in a pair of glasses.

He beams at you when he hurries back into the living room.

You’ve already sat up against the back of the couch, not nearly as comfortable without Steve holding you. Your knees are brought up to your chest, the knitted blanket through over them and bunched at your lap. You meet his grin with a childlike scowl.

“Here. Put ‘em on,” he says, motioning the glasses to you.

“No,” you whine, flopping your head back against the couch.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Steve laughs. “They’re just glasses.”

“I don’t like them!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause they make me look weird!”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Well, ask everyone who’s ever seen me in them,” you retort, halfway pouting. “I got made fun of for, like, six years when I wore them to school. Everyone called me Turtle until I graduated.”

A grin pulls at Steve’s lips. “Turtle?”

You nod shyly, looking at him through your lashes and trying not to smile back. “Yeah. ‘Cause I looked like Toby Turtle from Robin Hood—”

Steve doesn’t mean to laugh. It just sort of comes out. A big, boyish, hearty chuckle sputters from his mouth before he can stop it.

“Don’t laugh!” you scold, giggling alongside him.

“Well, now you have to put them on.”

Steve inches toward you with the glasses in hand. You don’t protest when he slips the sides over your ears and uses the knuckle of his forefinger to push them up the bridge of your nose.

He steps back to admire you with a grin. Your girlish pout has returned to you, but it doesn’t look nearly as intimidating when you’re blinking up at him with unusually large eyes.

He shakes his head down at you. “You’re the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen, you know that?”

“Don’t lie,” you grouse. “I look like a bug.”

“Correction: the cutest bug.”

He laughs when it makes you glower.

He steps to the side and points to the clock again. “Can you see the time now?”

You look at it, then back to him. “Yeah… ’S Time for you to go home,” you deadpan.

“When’d you get so mean?” Steve lilt, beaming at you as he settles on the couch again.

The two of you absentmindedly crawl back into your original positions. He lounges behind you and clutches you to his chest again. “You used to be so nice, Toby Turtle—”

“Don’t,” you protest, halfway smiling despite the glare you give him. You look almost owlish behind the thick lenses. "It's not funny."

“I’m just kidding, babe,” he promises. He sprinkles kisses to your face and laughs into each one. “I love them. I swear.”

“I’m glad someone does,” you murmur.

Steve pulls back with a grin, toeing the line between sincerity and mischief. “I’ll show how much I like ‘em later,” he teases quietly, squeezing the outside of your thigh where his hand rests. “I have a feeling I’m gonna have a lot of fun with these tonight.”

Your face heats at his words. Your nose scrunches, feigning disgust as you push him away.

“Perv,” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest and turning so your back is pressed against him again.

“I thought Toby Turtle was supposed to be nice—”

“Steve!”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x shy!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

Note

Steve having a little sister (who’s like a first-time) senior who has a crush on Eddie. But she’s a cheerleader, her parents expect her to marry an Ivy League, senator’s son or something. She kept her crush a secret until Jason calls him a freak in front of the whole cafeteria- and she punches him.

I had so much fun writing this request! I hope you enjoy what I've come up with, and if you notice the joke I stole from Glee, no you didn't. Reader’s race is not specified and she could be adopted because adoption is a wonderful, amazing thing. Harrington!reader and Eddie 4ever.

Words: 3.1k

“Mr. Munson, late again, I see.”

Mrs. O’Donnell heaves a disappointed sigh as Eddie gives her an over the top smile.

“Sorry, had a meeting with the principal. He wanted to know why you gave me detention again.”

Mrs. O’Donnell frowns. “I didn’t give you detention.”

“Oh, phew,” Eddie says as he slides into his seat. “Glad to hear it. I’ll try and be on time next time.”

The class lets out a titter of laughter as Mrs. O’Donnell rolls her eyes and turns back to the board. The dopey grin is stuck on your face as you lean forward in your seat. Resting your upper body on your desk, you bite your bottom lip as you look Eddie up and down. From your vantage point, you can only see the back left side of him, but you’ll stare at that for the entirety of the class period if you can.

“Miss Harrington?”

Begrudgingly, you tear your gaze away from Eddie’s glorious hair and see Mrs. O’Donnell watching you impatiently.

“Um, yes?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to enlighten us about the Stamp Act?” the elderly woman says.

“Uh…” you trail off, mind suddenly blank of everything that isn’t Eddie Munson. “I would not.”

A few people in the class let out snorts of laughter, but Eddie barks out the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. It makes your stomach fizzle, and your head feel all floaty. Even O’Donnell’s disapproving scowl can’t dampen your giddiness.

The rest of class, you’re riding on a high. You made Eddie laugh. Out of all the accomplishments in your life, you’re not sure if one has ever meant more to you. Making honor roll? Eh. Becoming a cheerleader? So what? Doesn’t compare to making the cutest guy you’ve ever seen laugh.

Okay, you tell yourself. When class is over, you’re going to talk to him. The bell rings, and you’re scrambling to get your things together. Tossing them into your bag, you sling it over your shoulder and follow Eddie out of the classroom.

“H-Hey, Eddie?” you manage.

He turns his head to look over his shoulder and gives you a smile that has your heart stuttering.

“Hey, Harrington. What’s up?”

“Did you see A Nightmare on Elm Street Part 2?” you ask, somehow not stumbling over your words. You’d had Steve bring the VHS tape home for you to watch just so you could ask Eddie about it.

“Freddy’s Revenge?” Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose up. “Such a letdown after the first one.”

“Yeah,” you say with a chuckle. “The first one was pretty good. This one made me want to fall asleep.”

“Ironic,” Eddie says with a smirk. He opens the school door for you, and you give him a grateful smile as you step out into the parking lot. You watch as he digs his keys out of his pocket. “See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Bye, Eddie.” You’re staring at him as he walks away, and you know you need to stop. But how can you when his ass looks the way it does in his jeans? Once he hops into his van, the trance is broken, and you make your way to your brother waiting in his car at the other end of the parking lot.

You groan as you yank open the car door and slip inside. Steve looks less than thrilled himself, but it has nothing to do with you. Your parents are forcing the two of you to join them at a company party tonight, which both of you are vehemently against. But Steve was tasked with picking you up from school, taking you home so both of you can get ready, then to the party.

“Think I can fake an epileptic seizure and get out of this?” Steve asks on the way home.

“You’re not epileptic,” you say.

“That’s why I said ��fake’ it,” Steve says with a scoff.

“They’d find a way to make you come anyway,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

The party is just as horrible as you and your older brother imagined it would be. You’re forced into an itchy blue dress and Steve looks like he’s about two seconds away from ripping his tie off. The stuffy guests walk around with their noses in the air, only deigning to talk to those they deem successful enough. You want to throw yourself out of one of the windows as you see your parents approaching you with an older couple that they’ll probably expect you to remember from somewhere.

“Well, look at you,” the older man says. “All grown up.” The way he says it makes a shiver go down your spine.

“You must have all the boys chasing after you,” his wife says with a wink. It’s like they’re competing to see who can make you the most uncomfortable. Before you can open your mouth to speak, your mom jumps in.

“Oh, we have high hopes for her,” she says with a chuckle. “Going to go to Yale or Stanford and find her an Ivy League man to settle down with.”

And when exactly did we decide this? you think to yourself.

“Someone well-to-do,” your father adds. “A senator’s son, maybe. Who knows? We could be raising a future First Lady here.”

You want to gag. Steve must sense your temper rising, because he rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Remember us when you’re famous,” the older man says.

I don’t even remember you right now. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but your dad changes the subject to something about profit reports.

Steve drives the two of you home before your parents, the two of them insisting they were going to stick around a little longer. The minute you get into your room, you throw your heels towards your closet. Your brother hears you banging around and comes to stand in your doorway, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He’s taken his tie off and undone the first few buttons of his white button up shirt.

“What’s the matter, First Lady? Didn’t like getting signed up for an arranged marriage?”

You whirl on him, practically shoving a finger in his face. “Do not call me that. I am not some prized pig they can sell at the fair.”

“Technically, I think the pigs are judged at the fair, not sold.”

Groaning, you rub your hands down your face.

“I’m running away,” you say, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m joining the circus. Or a motorcycle gang. Anything! As long as it’s not here.”

“Oh, relax,” Steve says. “When you go off to college you can date whoever you want. They’ll never know.”

“Why do I have to wait until I go off to college?” you demand. “Why can’t I date whoever I want right now?”

“Do you want to date someone right now?” Steve asks, furrowing his brows.

“That’s not the point,” you say, but you feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

“Holy shit, you do,” Steve says with a huff of laughter. He pushes himself off the doorframe. “Who is it?”

“Goodnight, Steve.” You shove him out of your doorway before slamming and locking your bedroom door.

“The fuck did you say, Freak?”

Jason Carver’s voice grates on your nerves as you make your way down the hall. Unfortunately, there’s only one person the jock douche would be calling that name and it has you seeing red. You were still steamed from your parents’ comments last night, and this is just going to push you over the top.

“Who, me?”

You walk into the cafeteria to see Eddie grinning at the basketball playing asshole.

“You’re the only freak here,” Jason says.

Your white cheer sneakers squeak to a stop on the linoleum floor, and you drop your bag down by your feet. The clatter has Jason’s gaze shifting to you. Most of the cafeteria’s attention shifts to you, actually. But you don’t notice as you stalk up to the bully. Normally, you might say something snarky to him, but you’re done with words. All your pent up frustration is taken out on Jason’s chin as you serve him a right hook. He stumbles back a few steps and there are gasps around the cafeteria. Your hand is throbbing, but the pain is nothing compared to the satisfaction you feel at shutting that jerk up. The small smear of blood above his upper lip has you smirking.

“Miss Harrington!”

With a groan, your satisfaction wanes when you see Principal Higgins glaring at you. His glasses are perched low on his nose and his hands are high on his hips.

“My office. Now.”

Thankfully, Principal Higgins’s secretary is kind enough to give you some ice to put on your knuckles. Some staffing emergency took precedence, so you’re stuck sitting on a bench outside his office while he deals.

“You’ve got some arm.”

The voice that you’d know anywhere sounds from above you and your neck cracks from how quickly you look up. Eddie stands there with his hands in his pockets, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Oh. T-Thanks,” you say.

Eddie takes a seat next to you on the bench. He yanks a black bandana out of his back pocket and smooths it out across his lap before folding it lengthwise.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the ice you’re holding against your hand.

“Sure.” You extend your injured hand out, and Eddie secures the ice against your knuckles with the bandana, then ties it tight enough to keep everything in place.

“How’s that?” he asks.

“Better. Thank you.” You find it hard to meet his eyes, so you keep your focus on your hand as you bring it back into your lap.

“So,” Eddie says, turning himself sideways on the bench and making himself comfortable. “What made you punch ol’ Carver? I mean, I know we all want to do it, but no one’s been quite so brave. Not until you, that is. And from a cheerleader? One of his own?”

“I’m not one of his own,” you say, looking up at him. But Eddie has a playful smirk on his lips.

“Nah, I know you’re not. I’m just teasing you. But what did want to make you do that? Couldn’t have been all on my account.”

“Why not?” you ask with a frown.

Eddie lets out a chuckle and shakes his head. “Listen, Harrington. I don’t see you as someone who goes around punching people for the hell of it. You’re one of the nicest people in this hell hole of a town. The jackass must’ve done something to deserve it.”

“He did,” you say. “He called you a freak.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he says, leaning in towards you with a conspiratorial whisper. “But most people do.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you say with a frown. “You’re not. And I hate how Jason always does it in front of a crowd. It’s like he needs to put you down in front of others to prove he’s this king or whatever. So, someone needed to knock him off his throne in front of people, too.”

“My knight in shining cheer skirt,” Eddie teases with a wink. He’s shocked when your face goes red and you’re unable to look him in the eye. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. The heat in your face is getting worse by the second and you feel it’s only a matter of time before you crack.

“You sure? I didn’t make you uncomfortable?”

God, that’s the last thing Eddie could ever make you feel. You immediately shake your head, refusing to let him think those thoughts even for a moment.

“No, no, not at all. I’m sorry, I guess I’m just an…awkward person,” you say with a wince.

“Maybe I like awkward,” Eddie says, gently kicking his black boot against your white sneaker. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, and they have plenty of room to buzz about, seeing as you hadn’t gotten to eat your lunch.

“Maybe I like awkward, too,” you say softly.

Eddie smirks. “Oh, then you must adore me, Harrington.”

“Maybe I do,” you say with a shrug, forcing yourself to maintain eye contact with him.

“Well, maybe I like sweet, pretty cheerleaders who can sucker punch like Bruce Lee and talk to me about horror movies.”

Your mind stopped listening after Eddie called you “pretty” though. Did he really think that? Or was he just saying it to be nice?

“Hmm,” you muse. “Guess I should send Hailey Hudson from the team your way to talk about Halloween then, huh?”

Eddie chuckles and the same sensation as when you made him laugh before fills your body.

“Nightmare on Elm Street is more my cup of tea,” Eddie says. “Plus, talking to any other cheerleader bedsides you doesn’t seem very appealing to me.”

“Miss Harrington,” Principal Higgins says, sticking his head out of his office. “You can come in now.” He steps back inside, and you release a sigh. Of course talking to Eddie would have to come to an end eventually, but why now?

“Well,” you say, standing up from the bench. “Guess it’s time to hear my sentence.”

“Maybe if you get released early for good behavior, we could grab pizza sometime?” Eddie looks nervous, and that alone makes you want to laugh. Why on earth would he be nervous asking if you wanted to hang out?

“That sounds great,” you say, the euphoric smile unable to stay off your face no matter how hard you try.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, seeming shocked.

“Why do you sound surprised?” you ask with a giggle. Taking courage from the fact that he seems to be getting nervous around you as well, you decide to be a little bolder. “I don’t just throw punches for anyone, you know.”

The most endearing smile grows on Eddie’s face, and he places one of his ring-clad hands over his heart.

“I am very honored to have the most beautiful girl in school defending my honor.” He outstretches his hand out to you as you begin to walk backwards towards the principal’s office. “I’ll wait for you.”

You can’t help but giggle. “I’ll have my parole officer contact you.”

“Should be easy since I’m in the phone book.”

“I’ll make sure to let her know. Bye, Munson.”

“See you later, Harrington.” He gives you one last smile before you step into the office.

The worst part isn’t the detention you were given or that you have to apologize to Carver. It’s that you’re told to call your parents to come and get you. Apparently, the school nurse is out for the day, and they can’t have you staying in school with a potentially injured hand. It hardly even hurts anymore, but you’re not going to let them know that. Let them think that you’ll be headed to the hospital for all you care.

When you pick up the phone from the desk, your finger hovers over the numbers. Principal Higgins is sitting right there, making sure you’re going to tell your parents exactly why you need to be picked up. At the last second though, you dial a different number.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, this is Steve. How can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, Dad,” you say, gripping at the receiver pressed against your ear.

“Dad?” you hear Steve ask in confusion. “This is—”

“I-I know,” you say. “I’m just calling, Dad, because I need you to pick me up from school. I’m in Principal Higgins’ office.

You can tell Steve understands now by the sigh that comes across the line. “What did you do?”

“Well, my hand is injured, and the nurse isn’t on duty today, so they don’t want me staying at school while I’m hurt and no one can check it out.”

“Tell him why it’s injured,” Principal Higgins says.

“Yes, tell me,” Steve echoes, obviously being able to hear his former principal’s words.

“I, um, I punched Jason Carver,” you say.

“You did what?!” Steve all but screams.

“He called Eddie Munson a freak in front of the whole cafeteria.” You say this piece looking Higgins dead in the eye. Are you going to do anything about that? you want to ask. “So, I punched Carver to shut him up.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed,” Steve says.

“Thanks. So, uh, can you come get me?”

“My shift is over in ten minutes,” Steve says. “I’ll head there as soon as I get out of here.”

“Thanks, St—uh, Dad. I’ll see you soon.” You hang up the phone and Principal Higgins stares at you over the rims of his glasses.

“He on his way?” he asks.

“He’ll be here soon.”

“I can’t believe you punched Jason Carver,” Steve says, shaking his head in amusement as he drives you home.

“He’s an asshole,” you defend with a shrug.

“Over Munson, though?” Steve asks incredulously. “Seriously? Couldn’t have picked another hill to die on?”

“Nope,” you say through gritted teeth. Crossing your arms over your chest, you stare out the passenger window.

“Why Munson, though, I—” Steve cuts himself off with a groan and shakes his head. “Oh, no. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

“I’d love to,” you reply. “But I need to know what you’re wrong about first.”

“Munson isn’t the guy you want to date, is he?” Steve asks nervously.

Your face gets hot for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days. But that’s all the confirmation your brother needs, because he’s letting out a groan that makes it sound like he’s in agony.

“You really have a thing for the Freak?”

“I have one good fist left,” you say. “Want me to use it on you?”

“I’ll tell Mom and Dad about your detention then,” Steve says with a shrug.

“Then I’d tell them about you moving the dirty magazines from beneath your bed into the air vent,” you counter.

“How do you even know about that?” Steve asks, shooting you a glare before looking back at the road.

“Your room and mine share the same vent and I can hear the pages rustling when the air is on.”

“You’re the worst,” Steve grumbles.

“You also have no room to complain with some of the trash you’ve dated,” you point out.

“Are you and Munson…a thing?” Steve asks, sounding like he hates every syllable of the question.

“No,” you tell him. “But he asked me to go get pizza with him. So, maybe soon.”

“And that will make you happy?” your brother asks.

A smile comes to your face just thinking about it. “It would.”

Steve nods his head and lets out a deep breath as if he’s resigning himself to the fact that you have feelings for Eddie.

“Okay, but you’re telling Mom and Dad.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x harrington!reader #harrington!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #request

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sepublic · 8 months

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Interesting that pop culture portrays Van Helsing as an experienced, seasoned vampire hunter, when it's pretty clear in the novel that this is his first go around with the whole thing, his first confirmation they actually exist, and in other words he's basically winging it and hasn't necessarily thrown a punch in his entire life (Which means he can’t just throw hands with Dracula, he needs research and backup to organize the perfect trap where they won’t be instantly killed). VH doesn’t always know what’s going on, he’s figuring things as he goes along; Like yeah he's HEARD of vampires, but it's never been anything prominent to him.

If anything, his past with vampires is probably similar to a lot of readers; Familiar with the concept, knows some of the details but not all of them, and definitely presumes them fake. He sees something going on with his patient and is like Haha damn that's just like a vampire, wouldn't it be crazy if... And then he slowly starts settling into conspiracy theory mode when more and more dots show up to conveniently connect, as he does the obligatory Protagonist Searching Stuff Up bit and realizes Mein Gott!!! It might be a vampire!!!

But then at the last second VH reminds himself, Now hold on, have I actually SEEN this vampire??? But it won't do anyone harm if I added some garlic flowers, right...? And then it just gradually escalates from there into full-on paranoia and dread that vampires exist and VH needs to desecrate the dead, and then he finally gets confirmation when he sees an Undead Lucy. What the fuck.

I think there's an argument to be made that Van Helsing was doubting himself just as much as Seward and the others initially did, if not more so, and he can’t even talk to anyone about it; So there’s an elation where you finally talk to others and realize it’s really happening, you’re not crazy.

This just ties into the theme of recording that which you did see, which is indisputable, because it’s evidence and proof. So you can be certain you aren't totally insane, and can distinguish facts from assumptions and theories if necessary; Especially when one needs to consider other explanations for the same symptoms. There’s a relief confirming what is and isn’t real to dispel self-doubt, like there was for Jonathan, who also suffered from Dracula’s gaslighting distorting his perception of reality.

I think all of this makes Van Helsing's actions and secrecy a lot more understandable when handling Lucy; If you hired a doctor and he suddenly started bringing up vampires, you might be inclined to think he's insane, doesn't know what he's talking about, and has read too many vampire stories and probably believes in 'alternative' medicine. Van Helsing still has an image and reputation to uphold here, and if it's gone, he can't actually be there to help Lucy if he turns out to be right.

That isn't to say he isn't without critique, especially in later portions of the novel, but you can kinda see where this underdog stance of "I'm right and the others around me are wrong" gets vindicated and thus develops into a bit of arrogance later down the line; Particularly, in presuming his disagreements with Mina to be no different than his secrecy with Seward and Mrs. Westenra.

In the end, VH could be described as a character who wonders if he's in the novel Dracula (compared to Jonathan who knows he's in a horror story of some kind but can't name the genre), but then has to remind himself this is reality... If this is a story, it’s probably just some medical drama. And when VH does accept he's in the novel Dracula, he assumes his character development and the lessons he learns are straightforward.

#dracula #dracula daily #van helsing

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sherifftillman · 2 years

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Curiosity Is Killing Me

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: smut

Tags: 18+ (MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK), p in v, oral (m + f receiving), degradation, mixed praise too

Summary: When sleepovers with your best friend become a ruse for her sneaking her own boyfriends in, it's not your fault that the only other distraction is her brother...

Word count: 3583

At first, you think it must just be a trick your ears are playing on you. A passing sound that happened to sound like a moan, that happened to be coming from your best friend's brother’s bedroom, that happened to sound exactly like Steve's cadence. You carry on to the bathroom as if it was nothing, but on your way back, you take your time walking past Steve's door again, to hear that moan again.

You assume it must be a Harrington kid thing, to sneak in people by way of far more innocent means - in your best friend's case, making sure that her family knowing you're here means they won't dare enter her room or the guest suite, which the lie is that that's where the two of you plan to hang out to not disturb the sleeping family. In reality, you stay in the guest bedroom all night while she and her boyfriend have a secret night in.

You don't mind, too much. She always says she'd do the same for you, if only you'd be interested enough in someone, and you don't doubt that, she's a good friend. Except there's only one person you're interested in, and you can't tell her it's her brother.

Safe in the knowledge that everyone else is in their bedroom for the night, you go to her door and give the "all-clear" knock. She cracks open her door and grins, "You know I love you forever, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes. "Isn't it, like… Extra risky, you and Steve sneaking around on the same night?"

Her brow furrows, "Steve doesn't sneak girls in, he just waits until Mom and Dad are out."

You nod slowly. "Got it. 'Kay. Goodnight. Night, Ryan!" You shout-whisper over her shoulder, and see a thumbs-up raise in response.

"I'll come get you when the coast is clear!" your best friend hisses as she closes the door.

You know you should just go back to the guest suite and sleep it all off. But that sound. If it wasn't Steve with somebody…

Images flood your brain of him: head thrown back against the headboard, his dark and luscious hair spilling down the back of his neck; his beautiful, pink, plump lips just parted enough to let those delicious moans roll right out of him; freckled chest shaking with bated breaths as the rest of his body seeks its friction against his wide, strong hand wrapped tightly around his member. Of course, you've never seen it for yourself, but the pants he wears leave little to the imagination, and the one time you'd been in the front row at a swim meet is permanently etched into your brain.

~~~

Steve really tried to hold off for as long as possible. Thankfully so, since his sister's latest piece had miscalculated which window to attempt to climb into. Now, that would have been awkward. But eventually, something had to give. He needed some kind of release, even if it wasn't a whole one. His cock was still screaming against his boxers, and Steve had felt it dangerous enough to discard his jeans after he feared the potential friction burn.

He knows what he has to do. Picking out his favourite tape, the one with that actress in, he puts it into the VHS player his dad had bought him to get him to shut up about something he’d overheard on the phone once. Keeping the remote control at hand, and making sure the volume wasn’t loud, he reaches into his nightstand for his trusted bottle of lotion, slides the offending garment off and slips beneath his covers. Lubing up his hand, he knows the rhythm of this video well enough by now. He can start off by giving himself a gentle release, barely any pressure, just the feeling of his fingertips sliding up and down his member. Of course, yours would feel far more dainty than his, but there’s no way he’d just waltz into the other room and proposition you.

As the video progresses, Steve starts jerking himself off with more virility. If he squints while the actress is on screen, he can pretend that it’s you. That thought only gets him more excited, and he moves faster, harder, feeling himself start to build up, until- Shit, is that your voice? Fuck. He’s already so far gone, he can’t just stop now. And besides, you’re probably just saying goodnight. You wouldn’t have any need to come past Steve’s room. Still, he wraps his finger and thumb tightly around the base of his cock as he continues to relieve himself, just until he knows the coast is clear.

It isn’t. There’s a knock at his door, and he just about has enough time to grab a pillow, shove it under the pillow and hit the power button on the TV control before you’re already inviting yourself in.

“Uh, hi?” Steve clears his throat. You weren’t expecting him to be shirtless, but then it’s perfectly normal for a guy to not wear a shirt to bed. “What’s up?”

The dishevelled look of his bed doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Your curiosity piques as you step further into his room. “Nothing. Just wanted to hang out a little before I go to bed.” Steve tries to smile as softly as he can, not wanting you to think he’s rude but also silently willing you to please god, get out of here so he can relieve himself. “What are you doing?”

“Uh, I was just - just watching something on the TV,” he shrugs, “but I’m about to hit the hay.”

“What’re you watching?” you ask, reaching for the control, but he snatches it away from you quickly. You quickly realise why, and gasp. “Steve Harrington, were you watching… adult movies?!”

Trying his absolute best to act casual, he scoffs, “Okay, yes, I was, because remarkably, I am an adult, as are you. I’m sure you’ve watched something by now.” It takes all his mental willpower not to imagine you getting off in this exact moment.

“Not all of us have parents rich enough to give us TVs in our own room.” You shake your head, quickly grabbing the control away from him and switching it on, to Steve’s horror, as you ask, “So is the one you’re watching any good o- Oh.” You stare at the paused sight in front of you. A very naked woman posed over a very naked man. The man you’re not so interested in. It’s the fact that the woman has the exact same body shape, complexion, hair texture, colour and length, everything is almost identical to you.

Steve snatches the control back from you and switches it off. “’S just coincidence,” he mutters as an explanation, but you’re not buying it.

A confident pride takes over your entire body. “Did you pick this one out for its content? Or for the… Actress?” He doesn’t answer, so you continue, “You know, I was walking past earlier…”

Steve’s eyes widen. “Aren’t you in the guest suite tonight?”

You look just as confused back at him. “How do you know that?!” He explains his encounter with Ryan. “Oh. Right. Well, yeah, but I didn’t know you knew, so I thought it would look weird if I didn’t have my toothbrush and stuff in you guys’ bathroom. So I was walking past and I… Heard…”

"Oh," his cheeks tint a weaker shade of the lips that he licks nervously. "So, you heard… The sounds I was making… From out there, huh?" You nod, and he curses, "Oh, shit," under his breath. As you shuffle up to sit yourself right next to him in the bed, he asks you in a whisper, brow furrowing, "Why are you getting closer?" He doesn't give you much time before realisation dawns in his eyes. In the same hushed volume, but with a smug excitement in his undertone, he asks you, "Is it because you liked what you heard?" You nod, not being able to tear your eyes away from his, pools of melted caramel hidden amongst his eyelashes as he studies your whole face. "Is it because you like thinking about my hand, wrapped around my cock, underneath the sheets here? Is that why you didn't leave any time between knocking and opening the door? Were you trying to see it?"

"C-can I… See it now?" You ask sheepishly, having nowhere else to turn at this point.

He pulls the sheets off him, pillow and all, to reveal his entirely nude form, down to what you could only describe as a raging erection. Thicker than you've ever seen, longer than you've ever seen, a singular vein protruding along the side, an entirely brand new experience. "Yeah, there you go," he encourages, still whispering as he watches your face light up at the sight. "Wanna reach down for yourself, and grab it?"

Still not taking his eyes off of yours, he finds your wrist and guides it to the base of his shaft, which your fingers wrap themselves around. He already felt well-lubed up, and so sliding your hand up and down it was next to nothing, though you could easily work his entire length if your position allowed you to slide your other hand down there, too. He reaches a finger up to push your jaw into a position where he could immediately start kissing you openly. His tongue craves access to yours, and he expresses his gratitude when you grant him it by gently sliding his own hand beneath your pyjama top, down your stomach and into your shorts, cupping the hot and wet mess that you were rapidly becoming.

"Do you like that?" he whispers, his breath tickling your lips, "When I grab you down there? In these short fucking shorts, with no panties on?"

You nod, whimpering shakily, "Please, Steve, touch me there."

He smirks. "Did you have this planned, doll? Is this what you wanted to happen tonight?" Steve asks, his fingertips still barely grazing your core. "You wanted to fuck your best friend's brother?" He again doesn't wait for you to answer before grazing his fingers through your wetness. You whimper, and he presses the gap between you closed again to grin, his teeth pressing against your lips. “You’re mighty overdressed between the two of us, baby. Why don’t you take that shirt off?”

You nod, leaning away just enough to pull the tank top off of your body. Steve hums with pure delight as he watches your tits get pulled up with the fabric, to bounce back down again. Once you’ve discarded it behind you, he leans in again for more open kisses, still not quite touching you how you’d like. You mewl at him, and he eventually pulls away to whisper, “Lay on your back.”

You comply, and he kisses all over your torso, paying extra close attention to kissing and suckling on your nipples. You cry out a high-pitched whine in delight as your back arches beneath him. He continues his journey, kissing down your stomach, to the waistband of your shorts. With a quick two-tone whistle, he gestures with his fingers for you to lift your ass up so he can pull them down. Once they’re off, he stares between your legs, taking a deep breath in to moan underneath his exhalation, “Oh, fuck yes.”

He clambers onto his stomach, propped up by his elbows, to settle between your legs and start to gently lap at the wetness already soaking your lower lips with his tongue. You squirm at the touch, and he grins, “You like it when I use my tongue, baby?” His voice is low and thick with arousal. You let out an uh-huh and he moves to flick his tongue rapidly back and forth against your clit. Watching his tongue move is enough of a turn-on, but seeing those big brown eyes look longingly back up at you completely ruins you. Your hand reaches for his hair, raking it with your fingers and gripping every time he wraps his lips around it to suck on it.

“Oh fuck, you taste so fucking good,” he groans before laying his tongue flat against your slit, again looking up at you and maintaining eye contact as he licks all the way up. “Goddamn, getting so wet, just for me, could feast on you for hours, fuck.” He slips two fingers easily inside of you, watching you fall apart at his touch as he spreads them out inside you.

“Fuck, Steve,” you groan, “need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a smirk, getting up onto his knees. He moves to straddle your chest commanding, “Sit up on your elbows.” You do so, and your lips just graze where he’s holding the head of his cock out to you. He raises his eyebrows at you, almost challenging you, and you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to lay flat and wide beneath it. “Oh, good girl,” he moans as he slides himself into your mouth. Your lips are stretched taut around him as he pushes slowly in and out of you, “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, yes, suck my cock, just like that. Oh, fuck, you’re so good.” When he can tell you can’t take him much further, he instead pulls all the way out of you to tell you, “Want you to suck on these balls, please.” Something about him being so commanding and yet still pleading with you has you throbbing, especially when he coos, “Ah, fuck, you just love sucking on them, don’t you?” You nod excitedly in reply, and he reaches down to push your hair back. “My good little slut likes having my cock in her mouth, don’t you?” he asks as he guides himself back into your mouth.

The praise mixed with the degradation turns you into an absolute mess. You moan and whine around his cock, looking up at him desperately. He looks just as ready as you do, shuffling himself away from you to grab something out of the nightstand. You watch him sliding his condom on, enamoured, and he smirks at the sight of you studying him.

He returns to lean over you, placing the head of his cock right between your folds and gently sliding it up and down. You whine again, though this time out of impatience. Steve pouts at you, “Aww, do you not like getting teased? Hmm? Like how you tease me by coming over to sleep over all the damn time wearing shorts just like those? That barely even cover your ass cheeks?” He presses himself just against your clit, and you mewl even louder. “Or like how you always wear that swimsuit when you’re out back, modest enough that nobody else knows what you’re doing, but fuck, the way it fits you, you definitely show yourself off for me, don’t you, baby? You sexy little fucker.”

“Steve, please,” you beg. “Need - inside me, please.”

“As you wish,” he smirks, pushing himself slowly into you. His fingers certainly helped prepare you for the size of him, but you still hiss as he moves gently further and further into you, constantly watching your face for any sign of discontent. He sits inside you for a while, leaning in to whisper, “Tell me when it feels good, yeah?” before starting to kiss you. This kiss feels more than just a spur of the moment flurry of passion, this is something he’s wanted for a while.And so you give him back just as much fervour, eventually starting to slide your own hips back and forth against his member. It’s still not totally comfortable at first, but you grab his shoulder before he can try and pull out and reassure him that it just takes time.

Soon, the discomfort dissipates and now all you want is for this man to fuck you, no matter how or where. “Steve,” you coo into his ear while he’s kissing your neck.

“Yes, baby?” he asks. “Are you ready?”

You let out an mm-hm so he knows even without looking at you, and he looks back up to start rocking, gently, in and out of you. You bite your lip as your eyes roll in ecstasy, and that smug little smirk of his returns. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about, when you come over? When you see me, do you think about taking this cock all the fucking time? Is that really why you come over, so you can come and fucking gawk at me, you little slut? Curious about how good it would feel if I fucked you? Does it all seem worth it now?”

You writhe against him, willing him deeper, moaning, “God, fuck, yes.”

“Such a dirty little whore, pretending to be here for anything other than wondering whether I can make you scream,” he drawls. “Here’s the thing, baby, I know I can. And so do you. But not tonight, okay?” You nod desperately. “Attagirl. Fuck, you feel so much better than I imagined.”

He starts to move quicker inside of you, pressing his forehead to yours as you both moan into each others’ mouths. “D-d’you think - about me, too?” you ask, and he grins back at you.

“Do I? Of course I fucking do,” he drawls. “I think about you all the fucking time. Every time you come over, I - fuck - I jerk myself off to the thought of you. Especially being in that big ol’ guest bed by yourself, I just wanna get in there with you, and - fuck, slip my cock in you from behind and absolutely destroy you.” He lets out a truly feral moan, almost a growl. “God, fuck, and you don’t even know. Until now, you didn’t even know that I get myself off to you just a few doors away, thinking about - fucking your face, and taking you from behind, fucking you on my desk as I pull your hair and wrap my hand around your throat, just fucking the shit out of you.”

You feel every word of his hit your core as your climax starts to build. “Oh god, Steve, I -”

Mid-flow, Steve doesn’t seem to hear you. “Think about - shit, about cumming all over you, cumming inside you, oh my god, filling you up with my cum, doesn’t that sound so fucking good?” In any other situation, you may have thought not, but having Steve fuck his own cum deep inside of you? Now it’s all you want. You bite your lip and moan at the thought, and he strokes your hair. “Yeah? Sounds good, doesn’t it, baby? Being my personal little cumslut, god, I’d make sure you never had to work a day in your life so I could use you.”

Maybe it’s the fact that you’re totally dick-drunk at this point, but in this moment, the thought of being Steve Harrington’s cocksleeve sounds like the ultimate life goal. “Fuck, Steve,” you cry. “Wanna - be your… Your personal fucktoy, please?”

“Oh, you sexy fucking bitch,” he groans as he starts to move faster inside of you. “Fuck, can’t wait to make - so many thoughts a reality… You bouncing on my cock, sucking me off until I cum all over that pretty little face… Gonna fuck you in front of a mirror so you can watch how pathetic you are when my cock is inside of you.”

“P-please, Steve, I’m - I’m so fucking close now, please,” you beg.

Steve, now covered in a thin layer of sweat, pushes his hair aside to watch you as he rubs your now oversensitive clit. “Do it, baby, cum for me. Fuck, cum for me like you’re going to every single day for the rest of your fucking life.”

You fall apart at his words, clenching over his cock as your orgasm finally washes over you The sensation brings Steve over the edge too as he buries his head into your neck to bite your shoulder.

Steve makes quick work of getting off of you, throwing the condom away, and fetching a towel from his dresser to clean you up with. In a very quick contrast, he slips next to you to pull you in to wrap his arm around you. “Are you good?” he asks softly.

You nod, still feeling rather light-headed. “Little sore, down there, but it’ll pass. Um, did - did you mean, all that stuff you said?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, almost matter-of-factly. “Now it’s out there, can’t exactly take it back.”

“Even when - you said you’d want me… Every day?” you ask quietly.

Steve pulls your face over to kiss it sweetly. “Especially that part. C’mon,” he hunts for the pillow he’d used to protect his modesty earlier, and his comforter, and sets up his bed accordingly again as he wraps you both up.

You giggle, “What will your sister say when I’m not in the other bed?”

“Well, what’s she going to do, admit you’re missing? When you’re meant to be in the same room? Doubt it,” Steve mutters sleepily against your skin.

“Yeah, but, like. When she finds out where I’ve been,” you explain.

“Then I’ll simply tell her she shouldn’t have made it my role to be a good host,” he replies, “now I really gotta sleep. Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Goodnight yourself, handsome,” you smirk, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before the pair of you drift off to sleep in each others’ embrace.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

Steve telling robin about this girl who he’s spoken to a few times and reallly wants to ask out and she’s a big hype man for his love quest. But then he comes in one day to see robin very innocently flirting with you bc she doesn’t know you’re the girl Steve’s talking about. So queue shenanigans of him trying to get robin away in anyway that won’t make you think he’s weird, but maybe he’s going to trip her over or something so he can tell her that’s you and she can be his wingman instead, just a funny shenanigans plot haha

Steve doesn't think twice about the bell to the shop tinkling over the door from where he's rewinding tapes in the back. He watches the picture rapidly flit from scene to scene of Pretty in Pink, until the credits appear and he ejects the VHS from the player. He slides it into its sleeve, but then he hears your voice, a sound that breaks him out of the monotony of his job, and has his feet moving towards the door of their own accord.

He rushes out to the counter, cursing himself for letting Robin take the counter for this shift. You usually come later, so he'd been prepared to swap with her before 5PM, but it's 3 now and you're chatting jovially over the counter with her.

"Your bracelet is gorgeous," She croons, and there's something more-than-friendly about the way she cradles your wrist in her hand to admire it, "It suits you really well."

"Aw, thank you!" You gush, grinning at her, "I called ahead to reserve The Goonies, Steve said he'd put it behind the counter?"

He had put it behind the counter. He'd set aside cash there, too, because he was going to pay your rental fee, and when you'd thank him for it, he was going to say that it was no big deal. But that if you wanted, you could come over to his place to watch it? And he'd pay for pizza too, you wouldn't have to worry about that. So when Robin reaches for the movie, Steve jumps into action.

"Oh, yeah! Here it is," Robin grabs the tape from where it's tucked beneath Steve's jacket near the trash can, "Okay, $1.99 for the rental fee, and you'll have to pay another $0.99 for every day after this Friday that you keep it."

"Actually, Rob," Steve rushes to the counter, cheeks slightly flushed as you turn to watch him, "Uh, I can take this one."

"I got it," She stares awkwardly at him, hand already reaching for the two dollar bills you're handing her

"Uh, no I- I need your help in the back," He jerks a thumb towards the rewind room, "Would you-? I'll- we'll be right back," He smiles at you, gripping her bicep and tugging her away from the counter before she can take your money, "Just give me a second!"

"Dude!" She hisses the moment the door is shut, "What's the matter with you? I totally could have handled that!"

"That's the girl I was telling you about," Steve gushes, his eyes wide and his hands tense at his sides, "I- You can't flirt with the girl I like!'

Her eyes widen momentarily, and her shoulders sag, "Oh, Steve, I didn't know. Okay, uh- alright, you can ring her up. God, why do you always call dibs on the pretty ones?"

"Thanks, Robin," Steve grins, patting her on the shoulder as he rushes for the door. He jogs back to the counter, matching your kind smile with his own where you've set your $2 on the counter.

"Hey, uh, no worries," He stands at the cash register, pushing your bills back towards you and pulling out his own, "I got this one."

Your brows furrow, "Wait- you...? No, I got it! Steve, I'll pay for it, it's okay."

"Don't worry about it!' He insists, pointedly ignoring the way you're holding the cash up for him and sticking his own bills in the register, "I just- I thought that, uh, it would be nice if you came over to my place to watch it. Tonight. Or- or some other night, if tonight doesn't work. But I-," He stammers, grinning sweetly at you, "I can pay."

Your eyes soften, and the hand with the money in it sags. Your confused frown morphs into a smile, "I'd love to come over, Steve. Tonight doesn't work, I'm babysitting." You lament, "But I'm free tomorrow, if you are?"

Steve has a closing shift tomorrow.

"Yeah, no I'm- I'm free." He nods vigorously, already thinking about what food he can bribe Robin with to switch her hours with his tomorrow, "Uh, I can come pick you up at six?"

"Six-thirty," You bargain, and he hands you the tape with a smile and a nod, "Thanks, Steve."

"Yeah, anytime! See you then!" He calls after you as you head for the door, and he waits until you're safely out of the parking lot to rush for the back room, not wanting you to see his desperation.

"She said yes!" He practically shouts, scaring Robin so much that she drops the tape she's holding. It shatters on the ground, plastic spewing over the scratchy carpet, and she shares a horrified glance with Steve.

"Shit. Uh," He stammers, floundering for a solution that won't cost him more than his allowance, "I'll buy a blank tape, just- stick it in there and don't tell anyone. Here," He digs in his pocket, pulling out a ten dollar bill he'd planned to use for gas, "Take this, that's, like, $4 for the tape and $6 for dinner tomorrow night, you're closing."

"I don't have a closing-" She starts, her brows furrowing, then her eyes narrow and she fixes him with an unimpressed stare.

"Really?"

"She wants to meet tomorrow!" Steve insists, running a hand through his hair, "Just- take the cash, Rob. Plus, you owe me one," He reasons, "You flirted with my girl."

"She's not your girl," Robin gripes, but she's more than happy to take the money, "Just be glad I'm an easy bribe, doofus."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington one-shot #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington hc #steve harrington hcs #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington dialogue #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst

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erin-bo-berin · 1 year

Text

Dirty Little Secret

Steve Harrington x Reader

Warnings: Smut (It gets filthy I’m sorry)

MASTERLIST

Steve Harrington was one of the nicest guys around.

He was polite, opened doors for women and always took care of his loved ones before himself.

He was your average, attractive young man.

But you wouldn’t know to look at him that he might have a dirty little secret—a whole different side to him that very few knew about.

Steve could get downright filthy in bed.

While he wasn’t exactly shy outside of the bedroom, he definitely wasn’t as confident as he seemed in it.

You’d never expected him to hear some of the things that left his mouth until you’d first slept with him. It was an absolute turn on for you as Steve’s dirty talk had come as a surprise, yet a welcomed one.

But, Steve wasn’t the only one with a dirty little secret. You had one too.

You were hooking up with your boss.

Steve was your boss.

And your dirty little secret was Steve.

•

Steve had been manager at Family Video rental store for less than a year when you’d first applied. You’d thought he was cute, but that’s as far as it went. It was possible he’d become your boss, anyway.

When you got the job, you were surprised at how much you actually enjoyed it. Steve was an excellent boss—friendly, patient and caring towards his employees. He never yelled at a worker when they messed up on the first day nor did he give them a hard time if it was a slow day. He was personable, chatty and never met a stranger.

While your attraction to him grew, you never gave much thought to anything actually happening. Granted, it was just a video store franchise and not a more serious occupation like the medical or legal field, but you still tried to remind yourself that he was the boss.

That was until one night, after work, hanging out with him, Robin and a few other employees, one drink too many landed you in his bed.

Needless to say, the rest was history.

Now, you’d been called to his office and there you sat, feeling like you’d just been called to the principal’s office. It was either that or Steve was hoping to reenact a scene from a steamy romance novel and had called you in for a whole different reason.

The office wasn’t huge, but it had a desk, a couch and a chair—all seeming to be mismatched but he never cared. He rarely spent all day in his office as he helped his employees out front more often than not. Usually, he only worked on paperwork back here, which is why you were more suspicious than normal.

“Oh hey, sorry, Kelly and Robin just took off for lunch and I told them we had a problem to solve,” Steve said, walking in, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Your brows practically raised to your hairline. You couldn’t tell if that was an innuendo or not.

He was dressed in jeans, a blue and black striped polo and his usual Family Video vest, always making sure he wore it as he was proud of his manager badge.

“We do?” you croaked.

If you’d known he was up for some fun today, you’d opted for a skirt instead of the jeans you were wearing and silently scolded yourself for the choice of bottom wear.

“Mhm,” he was leafing through papers as he answered, glancing up at you when he found what he needed, a sticky note with some scribble on it, “You know the boxes of new VHS tapes we were supposed to be getting last Monday?”

Your brain tried to keep up as you realized it was actually a work reason, not a sexual reason why he called you in here. You straightened, demeanor instantly changing as you got down to business.

“Yeah. They still not arrived yet?”

“Nope.”

Steve blew out a breath that sent the tendril of hair that was resting against his forehead flying upwards.

“I figured it was time to call corporate, but I had to find their number first,” he explained, before grabbing the phone from its cradle and punching in the number.

“You needed me for this?” you raised an amused brow.

“Well yes. And something else,” he gave you a side glance before speaking into the phone.

“Hi, yes, this is Steve Harrington, manager of the Family Video in Hawkins, Indiana. We were supposed to get a shipment of new tapes this past week and it hasn’t arrived.”

He swiveled back and forth in his chair while you waited patiently to find out why he’d called you in.

“Uh huh. Okay, yes, I’ll hold,” he looked over at you, rolling his eyes.

“Aw, did you want me to keep you company while you were forced to listen to elevator music?” you teased.

“You could say that. Also, to return these.”

He’d been pulling open the desk drawer to his right before he’d finished his sentence and what he pulled out was now dangling from one finger.

Hanging from his index finger were a pair of black lace underwear. Your black lace underwear.

“You left these in my car the other night,” he smirked.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as you glanced over your shoulder to his open office door, afraid someone might overhear.

“They’re all at lunch, sweetheart. It’s just you and me.”

You turned back to him, his smirk now have grown wider than before, if that were possible.

“Give me those,” you whispered, even though you knew no one on the other end of phone could hear you either.

He pulled back out of your reach when you tried to grab them.

“Not so fast, Y/N. You’ve been a naughty girl, leaving those out for anyone to find them in my car. You think you deserve to get them back so soon?”

He was clearly enjoying this way too much and you glared at him, though the only heat in your gaze was from your desire, not anger.

“Well maybe I just wanted to leave something for you to remember me by,” you retorted, figuring you could play this game too.

“Oh honey, you leave more than enough for that.”

His gaze swept down your body and you couldn’t help but feel a chill down your spine. You’d been with other guys before, but no one managed to turn you on, satisfy you and make you desire more all in one breath as much as Steve did. Whether it was the secrecy of your hook ups or the intense connection between you two, it made it that much more exciting.

He rubbed the soft, silky material between his thumb and forefinger, still taunting you.

“What is this? Silk? Satin?”

“Satin,” you replied numbly, aware of nothing but him.

“They’re so soft. Perfect for me to shove down my pants and rub against my—yes, hello this is Steve Harrington speaking.”

His voice immediately went from the low rasp, dripping with seduction to casual and business-like as you figure someone finally picked up his call.

You had to squeeze your thighs together, trying to keep in control. You still had the rest of the day to get through and you wouldn’t make it all hot and bothered like you currently were.

He’d dropped your panties in his lap, giving you a raised brow in challenge; if you wanted them back, you’d have to come get them yourself.

He sounded perfectly normal on the phone as he chatted with the person on the other end of the line about the missing shipment of movies. To anyone else, nothing would be amiss, but you saw the gleam in his eyes, noticed the slightly deeper breathing that indicated he was as turned on as you were.

Which is why you marched around his desk to retrieve your panties off his lap. You delicately wrapped your fingers around the material of them, making sure they brushed against his crotch of his jeans in the process. He was hard, just as you’d expected him to be.

You weren’t done yet though. Before removing your hand, you flattened your palm against the bulge rubbing over it enough just to keep him wanting more. One look at his face told you that it’d worked as he bit his lip, eyelids fluttering. You could hear someone talking through the phone, though you couldn’t make out what was being said.

“Mhm, I understand.”

Only the slightest croak of his voice gave him away that he’d been affected by your touch.

Pulling back, depositing the underwear in your pocket, you bent to his ear, whispering a promise to him.

“This isn’t over yet.”

•

You intended to wait until the end of the day to execute your revenge and you made sure everyone else had left before you put your plan in action.

When he wasn’t looking and was busy in the back with the inventory—which managed to finally arrive, albeit delayed—you grabbed the items you needed and headed to his office. You snatched his Family Video vest off the front counter where he’d slung it earlier, a wicked grin spreading on your face as your plan became even better than you imagined.

You had plenty of time to get ready and you waited for a good fifteen minutes before you heard his footsteps approach. You didn’t think he’d realized you were still here and you intended to give him the surprise of his life.

When he opened his office door, he froze in the doorway, jaw slackened.

You laid back against the arm of the couch in nothing but the pair of black lacy panties and his Family Video vest.

“Holy shit,” he groaned lowly, eyes taking you in.

The excruciating wait was completely worth it as you could practically see his desire swallow him entirely.

“Told you I’d get you back for that little stunt earlier,” you smirked.

“Wondered where my vest went,” he mumbled, walking over, eyes still glued to you as he did.

“Thought I’d do some cleaning for you. I can always do a French maid look too, if you’d like,” you grinned.

“I like this one better.”

He was kneeling on the couch, hovering over you faster than you’d anticipated as his lips met yours in a heated kiss. His hand pressed against the bare skin of your stomach, sliding up until it cupped your breast beneath the vest.

Your nipples had already began to harden under the scratchy material of the vest as you’d awaited him, but you felt them tighten again as he squeezed your boob in his hand, wasting no time.

You moaned into the kiss as your hands on his chest glided up to where your arms circled his neck. His hips pressed against yours and you felt the heat begin to rise in you when you felt the hard on in his jeans pressing against your thigh. You couldn’t wait to get his clothes off and let the fun really begin.

He pulled back, smirking when you whimpered from the loss. He repositioned himself to where he was sitting normally on the couch and patted his lap.

“Come here sweetheart. You want me? You gotta come get me.”

You obeyed immediately, climbing into his lap, eager to have his lips back on yours, to feel him against you.

But he didn’t resume the earlier kiss, his hands pushed back the vest, uncovering what little hadn’t already been on display for him.

“As sexy as you are in that, I’m going to need it off you,” he mumbled.

You let the item drop to the floor as his lips attached to your neck. It’d barely been a minute or two since he’d walked in the door and you were already aching with an intensity you’d never felt before.

Your clit throbbed and you found yourself grinding against his crotch, moaning at the contact in addition to him sucking a bruise on your neck. Your hands found your boobs, massaging them—something you never did, but went to show how much you lost your mind when you were with Steve.

“Fuck baby, I’m not even out of my shirt and you’re gonna make me cum already,” he grumbled into your neck, losing all focus as you moved against his throbbing cock.

His fingers dug into your hips as you continued grinding against him. You’d spent nearly six hours horny for him today, so you thought it was fair if he suffered a bit too.

One little whimpered moan from you was all it took as he did just that, a curse slipping from his lips. You peered down, feeling at the same time as you saw the wet spot widen across the crotch of his jeans. He let his forehead drop against your shoulder with a groan of acknowledgement while you smirked, proud that you’d gotten him so worked up, he’d cum in his pants.

“You’re paying for that,” he growled lowly, teeth sinking gently into your earlobe, “I’m not anywhere near through with you.”

A shiver of delight coursed through your body as he laid you back down against the couch, starting back at your lips, taking it much slower. His mouth moved languidly against yours, fingers stroking your side gently. Only when his tongue met yours did he finally speed things up a bit. Your heavy breathing and smack of your lips against one another’s were the only sounds to be heard, minus the occasional moans.

From there, he kissed down your jaw, sucking on random spots as he fanned them down across your neck and collarbones. You tugged impatiently at his shirt, trying to pull it up as he ventured his kisses down to your breasts.

“Someone needs a lesson in patience, it seems,” he mused, sitting back to pull off his shirt.

Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, trying to hold back the moan. He was attractive any time, but you absolutely loved his chest. Not only was it tanned and broad, but covered in a layer of coarse, dark hair that you loved to run your hands over and a splattering of moles that ran all the way down and over his stomach. It was what made him Steve and you loved every peek of it you got.

“No, I need you to make me see fucking stars,” you retorted, pulling him back down towards you.

“Seeing stars is just the minimum when you’re with me,” he smirked confidently, “I’ll make you forget your name.”

“Is that a promise?” you asked, tongue moistening your lips, desperate to kiss him again.

He rolled one of your nipples between his fingers causing you to whimper before he answered.

“Baby, that’s a guarantee.”

You groaned in frustration, not sure how much more teasing you could take, making Steve chuckle. He was only just beginning with you, apparently.

His lips lowered to your chest, tongue swirling around your nipple before flicking his tongue over it and taking it into his mouth, sucking softly. His other hand squeezed your neglected boob, making sure to give it attention too.

As hard as you tried to enjoy the sensation—and it was amazing—you just wanted him between your legs. Whether it was his mouth, cock or fingers, at this point, you didn’t care. He’d wound you up so tight, you were ready to snap like a rubber band stretched too thin.

“Steve, come on,” you whined.

He’d moved on from your boobs, licks and kisses being sprinkled down your stomach, his fingers playing with the band of your panties.

“So impatient,” he mock frowned, “You that desperate for me?”

His touch grazed over the crotch of your panties, eliciting a hiss from you.

“Y-Yes,” you breathed.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

His fingers passed over it again, with just slightly more pressure, only giving you a taste of what was to come.

“Your fingers, mouth, I don’t care,” you groaned, legs inadvertently spreading wider for him.

With a low chuckle, he peeled off the underwear that started the whole thing.

“I have even more appreciation for those now,” he smirked up at you, fingertip trailing along your slit.

“Steve,” you whined, fully unable to mask your impatience.

His intense gaze never left yours as he pushed one finger into you and your eyes fluttered closed, your pussy instantly tightening around the one digit.

“Mm,” he moaned, noticing just how aroused you were, “This all for me, Y/N?”

He didn’t often use your name because pet names fell out of his mouth so easily when he got dirty, but the few times it did, it drove you wild. This instance was no different and you squirmed beneath him, groaning.

“It’s always for you,” you whispered, biting your lip as you looked at him.

He leaned down over you, connecting your lips again as his finger slid in and out of you. You moaned appreciatively when he added another, the slight stretch just preparing you for the delicious sensation of his cock, later.

You could’ve stayed there, kissing him, with his fingers twisting inside you at just the right angle, but he sat back again, settling between your legs, hands on your thighs.

He peered up at you, his hair already mussed to the point several pieces fell onto his forehead and the sides stood up almost comically. But the sight alone was practically orgasmic.

He gave one thigh a gentle squeeze before lowering his mouth to you, licking a line along your slit, ending at your clit which he gave a flick with his tongue.

“Shit,” you hissed, already gripping onto the edge of the couch.

You’d discovered it before, but he never failed to remind you just how good he was at things like this.

His lips closed around the throbbing bud, sucking on it just enough for you to feel the deliriously amazing effect of it. He moved lower, tongue licking into you causing your back to arch, your hips rising with it, trying to get as close to him as possible.

He kept you on your toes, licking, sucking, kissing, savoring you like you were his favorite meal. You felt his own answering moans against you, making you writhe.

The pressure of your impending orgasm was building, that tight knot in the pit of your stomach just aching to snap with one right move. After a few more thrusts of his tongue into you, he replaced his mouth with his fingers, sliding them so easily into you as you were probably dripping at this point.

Circling your clit with his tongue, he kissed it and brought it back into his mouth.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whimpered, hand threading into his hair.

Even if he wasn’t familiar with your body by now, he’d been able to tell you were close to snapping by the whine in your voice and the way your pussy fluttered against his fingers, repeatedly tightening around them.

At the last second, just when you were ready to fall over the cliff of bliss, he stilled his fingers, completely removing his mouth from you. He placed gentle kisses against the inside of your thigh, smirking at your cries of outrage.

“No, Steve! Fuck.”

This time, the expletive was pure frustration as the just within reach orgasm completely dissipated.

“I told you you’d pay for earlier,” he smirked, the challenge gleaming in his eyes, “But the way you’ve been carrying on, I’m hard as a fucking rock again, darling.”

His thumb teased your clit as he spoke to you and the whimpered moan that left your lips was probably pathetic, but in the moment, you were desperate.

He leaned back down, tongue lapping at your clit. Your head fell back against the arm of the couch, relieved to feel his mouth on you again.

He quickly resumed what he was doing, mouth and fingers combined. The impending orgasm built again, much quicker this time. Once again, you prepared for your climax to hit you and once again he stopped just on the brink of it.

“I really hate you right now,” you seethed, breathless and aching for him.

“With the way you’ve been moaning my name and begging?” he grinned up at you devilishly, one hand sliding up your stomach to tweak your nipple, “I hate to see what you’d do if you really liked me.”

You were too far gone to care about what came out of your mouth.

“Make me cum and maybe you’ll find out.”

“Tell me,” Steve stalled long enough for one teasing lick along your slit, then peered up at you, “How badly do you want to cum?”

“So fucking badly,” you whined, hips rising off the couch, trying to make contact again, “Please, Steve.”

So he obliged, lowering his head, intending to give you what you’d asked so nicely for. One hand gripped your thigh, the other busy, a few fingers deep within you, keeping pace with his mouth on your clit.

At this point, you lost all sense of control as your hips bucked and you practically ground against his face. Your hand gripped his hair and you felt his deep moan against your clit. That was all it took for the orgasm to crash over you, even more intense than it would’ve been the first time. Your thighs shook and trembled as the intense waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

You and he had yet to get to the main event and he’d already made you see stars.

When he was satisfied he’d wrung every last bit of the orgasm from you, he climbed back up to your face, cheeks flushed and lips slick. You may have just had an orgasm more intense than you’d ever had, yet you still hungered for more.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmured.

As your lips met, your hands busied themselves with his belt buckle and jeans. As amazing as what he’d just done to you was, you were eager for him to be deep inside you, stretching you in ways his fingers couldn’t.

He pulled away with a groan when you’d gotten his jeans unzipped enough to slip your hand inside his underwear, fingers curling around his cock.

“Feel how hard you make me,” he whispered against your ear, “That’s all you, sweetheart.”

His words caused the ache between your legs to grow, tenfold.

“I want these off. Now,” you demanded.

“Who’s the boss now?” he teased, sitting back to push his jeans and underwear down his hips.

You watched, eyes taking in every bare inch of him as he stood to pull them off. You pointed to the couch as you sat up, voicing your next command.

“Sit.”

He did as he was told and you climbed into his lap, legs straddling his waist. His grin widened as his hands found your waist, eyes looking up at your face now hovered a few inches above his.

“You gonna ride my cock until you’re dripping down it?” he practically purred, helping you position yourself in his lap until just the head teased your opening.

“Yes,” you said matter of factly.

“Good, ‘cause I want you to drain every last drop from me.”

You rubbed against the head of his cock, causing him to groan—this time it was your turn to smirk.

“I intend to.”

You lowered yourself onto him, deep sighs coming from both of you at how good it felt. You stayed still for only a moment to appreciate the feeling before your hips began moving forward.

You hummed appreciatively as you once again got used to how he felt deep within you.

Steve looked to be as enthralled with the feeling as you were, his head tilted against the back of the couch, watching you through lidded eyes. Your hips moved slowly at first but they sped up as you rested your hands against his chest, leaning forward to kiss him again.

His hands slid from your waist, up your back as he pulled you closer to him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your chest pressed against his, the kiss as heated and quick as your lower bodies moved. Before long though, it was hard to keep from making noise and he broke the kiss, moaning deeply.

“God, you feel so good. You feel so fucking good,” he groaned, complimentary.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Harrington,” you retorted, biting your lip, trying to control yourself as he continued to thrust deeper up into him.

His hand cupped your cheek, pulling your face closer to his, his lips so close you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face.

“No one’s here baby, be as loud as you want.”

It was as if that permission caused a dam to break within you, all your held back moans and whimpers coming cascading out at once.

“That’s a good girl. You look so good riding my cock,” he groaned, lips skirting over your shoulder.

He held you close, your chests flush with one another as your head tilted backwards. He took the opportunity to press kisses against your throat, moaning into your skin as you both rocked closer to your highs.

You let out a particularly loud moan when his hips circled just right, hitting a sensitive spot within you that practically made your eyes roll, your fingers digging into his biceps.

“Moan for me, sweetheart,” he rasped, lips still pressed against your skin, “Say my name.”

“Steve,” you whimpered, “Don’t stop.”

You felt yourself clenching around him as you spiraled closer to your finish, wanton moans escaping your throat.

“Fuck, baby, yes,” he groaned, your inadvertent clamping around his dick causing him to spiral quicker.

One hand had stayed rested on your lower back as you moved on him, the other exploring wildly. From grazing your boob, giving it a squeeze, to your hips, fingers digging into them. Now, it snaked downwards between you two as he pulled you in for a rough kiss, lasting only a moment or two. He pulled away when his thumb reached your clit, circling it just enough to progress your orgasm faster.

His face was flushed from exertion, hair wild as he looked at you with heavy lidded eyes, drunk off the endorphins that the sex was creating. His voice was firm though, almost boss-like when he spoke his command, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Come on baby, cum.”

It was as if you were so tuned to his body that you truly could release at a snap of his fingers. You cried out as your high hit you, his name falling off your tongue repeatedly, your body refusing to let up its movement until you’d wrung every last bit of pleasure from the climax.

Steve, in turn, had no problem falling right behind you as he’d held back as long as he could, wanting to take care of you first before he gave in to his own pleasure. But one look at your face as it crumpled and scrunched in pleasure as you came was enough to fully send him over the precipice, which he did as loudly as he pleased.

Lips locked in another kiss, both of your bodies slowly eased its rocking as you both enjoyed every possible second of the experience. Your blood still felt heated, electricity zinging through your veins as if Steve had actually lit you on fire from within.

When your body finally stilled against his, you and he both were breathing heavy, a thin layer of sweat coating your bodies. You were sure you had the same sex flush that he did, his cheeks rosy, lips swollen from all your kisses. You saw a blooming hickey on his collarbone that you didn’t even remember giving him, though you felt a tiny bit proud of the mark. Even if no one else knew it was there, you would know.

His chest heaved with his uneven breath, his hands glided up and down your back as he looked up at you with a satiated smile. A big part of you didn’t want the moment to end, but you knew it had to.

He showed no intention of moving right away though. His hand cupped your cheek and even with the touch alone, you could tell that he’d reverted back to his normal, sweet and gentlemanly persona.

He pulled your face to his, kissing you again, this one long and deep, much more sensuous than your wild, eager and desperate ones from before. It was truly a toe curling kiss—as if what you and he had previously done hadn’t been toe curling enough.

When he pulled away, the look on his face made you tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“What?” you asked, a smile forming on your lips.

“I was just thinking,” he began, thumb rubbing gently over your bottom lip, “I haven’t wanted to keep you a secret for a while. But after that? I want to take you out even more than I originally did.”

Your lips parted in surprise, but it was definitely a pleased surprised.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Is that okay with you?”

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face as your teasing remark left your lips.

“Of course. After all, you’re the boss.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things smut

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witchwyfe · 2 years

Text

fool for you | sh

| pairing: steve harrington x female reader

| précis: steve's in a bad mood until you show up, fluff, cursing

| word count: 856

Steve slaps another VHS tape onto the floor, sighing dramatically.

"Jesus Steve, Keith said to reorganize the horror section, not take your anger out on it." Robin chuckles.

He flips her the bird, not even bothering to turn around and look.

Robin rolls her eyes before heading into the back office to unbox something Keith had asked her to.

During the week, Family Video wasn't as crowded, especially on a Tuesday morning. Boredom fills the air like a thick heat, the two employees desperate for a customer or at least something interesting to happen.

"Harrington!" Robin calls from the office. "Come here,"

Steve huffs, stepping away from the mess he created in the floor, and almost tripping over Poltergeist, on his way to Robin.

"What do you want?" He wonders, rough tone lining his words. He's not mean--never mean-- but comfortable enough around his best friend that he doesn't feel the need to hide his mood.

"What crawled up your ass this morning?" Robin asks, a smirk lining her lips.

"What do you need help with?" He grits his teeth, hands settled on his hips.

"Can't reach that box up there, you're taller, you do it."

He huffs, but moves forward, lifting up and grabbing the box. He bites back another complaint--something about how Robin never has a problem climbing on Keith's desk to get shit, on any other day.

"Anything else you need?" He forces, smile obviously fake and eliciting a laugh from Robin.

"Nothing else right now, besides an attitude adjustment maybe?"

"Ha. Ha. Very funny."

Steve sits back on the floor, and doesn't move for another hour--when the horror section is reorganized to what he hopes are Keith's standards. He swears he just did this last week but he knows better than to bitch about it to Keith.

Robin knows it's a bad mood when she decides to give Steve his break early, scared about him scaring customers away. He'd slammed the register shut a little too hard before she was pushing him away and threatening to lock him in the break room.

And he sits back there, fiddling with the radio until the static goes away, and he smiles when he realizes it's one of your favorite songs.

He's calm for a few moments, the thought of you driving out any annoyances.

The bell rings, alerting him that someone has entered the store. He doesn't give a shit, Robin can deal with whoever came in.

Until he hears something sweet and familiar.

Your voice.

The sound is like a light breaking through the dark cloud above his head, and he's up and out of his seat before he misses too much, the sound of your sweet laugh making his heart clench.

He's shoving through the door, crossing the threshold out into the store to see you, to make sure you're real and not a figment of his imagination.

"Hi," He's beaming, breathless in your presence.

You turn from where you're speaking to Robin, your smile growing unbelievably large when you spot your boyfriend.

You're trying to be polite and finish your conversation with his friend before running into his arms like you want to. He doesn't care, he saunters over and engulfs you in his grip, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo and perfume.

"Missed you," He murmurs into your hair.

"I was just saying," Robin starts, a wicked grin on her lips. "____, thank god you're here, Steve's been in a foul mood all morning and he--"

"That's enough," He cuts her off, blush rising on his cheeks. "She doesn't wanna hear about that."

"Actually she would love to," You pipe up, looking up at him fondly. "You miss me bub?"

"Oh he totally did!" Robin snorts. "He was being so pouty and--"

"Shut up Buckley," He groans, letting his forehead fall onto your shoulder.

He nuzzles into you for another minute before Robin makes gagging sounds, eliciting a soft giggle from your lips.

"Alright go finish your break, you're gonna scare the customers away."

"You'd love that," Steve argues, raising an eyebrow.

"I would but I don't think Keith would."

She argues. "As much as I don't care what that motherfucker wants, he writes the checks Steve-O, so that's the way it is."

You share a laugh with your boyfriend until Robin shoos you both away and Steve tugs you into the break room.

"M'serious," He whines, lips at your forehead. "I missed you."

"I know bub," You stretch up to peck the tip of his nose. "I missed you too."

"Didn't think you'd come here. You said you had that group project."

Steve won't admit it because he'd never try to hold you back, but he hates Tuesday's, because it's the one day your schedules don't line up. So while he's at work, you're taking classes nearby at the college.

"Simon canceled." You wrinkle your nose and Steve watches with stars in his eyes. "I swear we're never gonna get that fucking project finished."

"I'll help you with it." He murmurs, lips back on your head, soft against your hairline.

"Okay baby."

#mine #my work #my writing #witchwyfe #witchwyfe writing #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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bimbobaggins69 · 11 months

Text

wanna try something?

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: you and Eddie have been dating for a few months on top of a year long fwb situation, and an even longer friendship. You’ve tried almost everything together, that is until you stumble upon the x rated section in family video and are instantly drawn to a tape of something you never thought you’d be into.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, queer!eddie, mentions of steddie, small mention of internalized homophobia, no use of y/n, use of pet names: baby, princess, sweet girl etc.), oral (m receiving), anal play (m receiving).

notes: I have been wanting to write a fic about Eddie’s bussy forever so… when I got the urge I had to do it. Also, the pictures have almost nothing to do with this fic, aside from the vhs’s, believe it or not finding an aesthetic for eating ass is very difficult. Also also, thank you to my love @take-everything-you-can for beta reading <333

wc: 3.2k

The sound of lips smacking is all that can be heard in the empty air of Eddie’s trailer, the shitty horror movie playing in the background quickly forgotten and the booming sound coming from the speakers are quickly becoming white noise as you moan and pant into each other's mouths.

This was usually how it went; you’d both agree to have a “movie night” just to totally forget about said movie and go straight to attacking each other's lips while hands and mouths explore different body parts.

You’d both been together for 3 months now after a year of being friends with benefits and before that just childhood best friends.

It felt nice to have sex with someone you knew would never judge you or make you do things you didn’t want to, Eddie was so selfless not only in the bedroom but all the time, it’s one of the many things you adored about him.

The sex was mind blowing between you two, like you were made for each other. The first night you lost your virginity to Eddie he had looked over at you while trying to catch his breath to say “why haven’t we always been doing this?”

The truth is, you had more than friendly feelings for Eddie for years, but for most of his teens he was grappling with his sexuality, you were the only one he opened up to about it. He wasn’t sure if he was straight at all or even liked girls. He kept this a secret but the only crush Eddie had seemed to have on any girl was you, and since he felt like he couldn’t have you, he didn’t want any other. So, he decided to explore that other side of him.

But once you started to show interest in him. The longing stares, the way your eyes would flicker to his lips and the way you’d say his name, was all he needed to know you felt the same way.

So after a long night filled with sexual tension, Eddie made his move and kissed you, he took your virginity that night and it was the most mind blowing sex he’d ever had. He decided at that moment that sex is better with someone you love.

You’d both played stubborn for a year, never wanting to fully let your feelings be known, so you decided a friends with benefits situation would be best.

That was until Eddie couldn’t hold back his feelings any longer, he needed you to know he was madly in love with you and didn’t want anyone else, ever.

So now after a year of the dirtiest, raunchiest, roughest sex, there was pretty much nothing you both hadn’t done together, you were open minded to anything Eddie wanted to try with you: choking, hair pulling, some face smacking and him cuffing you to his bed, are just a few.

There really wasn’t anything Eddie could come to you with that you’d shoot down, giving him another reason to be head over heels about you.

But, you still felt like there were things you could improve on or maybe new things to be learned, so after one of your many solo trips to family video, you decided to check out the X rated section.

You looked both ways before quickly swinging the red velvet curtain open and quickly shutting it behind you, as if you were on some top secret mission.

Your fingertips glided along the numerous dirty videos, looking for anything that caught your eye.

You stopped abruptly, your fingertip halting on a tape that made your eyes widen and your thighs clench.

The title of the video made you scoff, ‘along comes likki’ with a very dirty picture of a man bent over and a girl's face shoved in his ass.

You and Eddie had never done ass stuff before and the thought of having him under your complete control, if even for a minute was making your panties dampen.

You wanted to give Eddie the same blissed out face the man on the cover had.

So you discreetly put your goonies tape over it and shoved them both under your arm.

You walk up to the register and it’s just your luck that Robin had taken her break and Steve was the one that would be ringing you up. You had known all about his and Eddie’s relationship, if you could even call it that. They had fucked and then after Steve had pushed Eddie away and told him that it would never happen again and that he wasn’t gay, even though Eddie had opened up to him and explained that he knew he liked men and women, told Steve it was called bisexuality and Steve seemed very interested in the prospect only to after push Eddie away and basically call him gay, totally negating everything they had opened up to each other about. It had definitely hurt him and you were there to pick up the pieces.

But you couldn’t be mad at Steve, you knew he was in a battle with his inner self, that he would hopefully one day come to terms with.

“You ready to check out?” The honey eyed boy says from behind the counter, totally knocking you out of your inner thoughts. Those same thoughts that made you forget what tape you had underneath your arm.

“Mhmm” is all you say as you grab the two tapes and slowly place them on the counter.

Your face grows hot with realization and now you wish the ground would swallow you up whole.

“You find everything good?” Steve says, trying to make conversation as he rings up the goonies, he sets it aside and before he goes to pick up the next video, he freezes and looks back up at you.

“Yeah, I did.” The words come out fast and jumbled as your eyes plead with him to just hurry up.

But of course to your dismay, Steve’s lips curl into a knowing smirk. He grabs the video and rings it up, “yeah, looks like it.” He says while holding the video up and shaking it as his eyebrows shoot up under his perfectly coiffed hair.

Nothing would or could ever embarrass you as much as this interaction.

Steve licks his lips and leans against the counter, “don’t worry honey, your secret is safe with me.” He says with a wink. You wanted to tell him “so is yours.” But you could never do that.

Especially not with the way you were nervously chewing at your lip.

Finally after paying, Steve handed you your bag but not before letting his fingers linger over yours for far too long.

“You have a great day, beautiful.” He says with the most lust filled eyes.

You weren’t sure if you were aroused or annoyed, maybe both? But he knew you and Eddie were together, so it was pretty uncool of him to flirt with you.

Then again, it’s Steve, doesn’t he flirt with everyone? It’s like his second language.

Once you make it into your bedroom, you lock your door and pop the video into your vhs player, grab the remote on your night stand and sit on the end of your bed, no one is home but you turn the volume down almost all the way, just in case.

The video starts out with some shitty plot and bad acting, so you fast forward until you find what you're looking for. Finally, you click the play button when you see a man sitting on the couch and a woman on her knees between his spread legs, he has his cock out and he’s hitting it against the woman’s tongue before she takes it in her mouth, she proceeds to choke, lick and suck on it. Eddie had always seemed to enjoy your blowjobs, but Jesus they were nothing like this.

She was using her hand to twist and suck, and spit was constantly falling from her mouth from deepthroating, it was too hot for you not to slip your fingers into your shorts and make yourself cum.

The woman lowered herself while the man spread his legs even wider, she sucked on his balls before licking lower and finally lapping up at his puckered hole, it immediately sent you over the edge.

The whole thing was so dirty and hot, you knew you had to try it on Eddie.

So that leads you to your forgotten movie, playing in the background while you straddle your boyfriend's lap. His hands grip at your waist and you can’t help but to rub your clothed core over the stiffness of his hard on, under the material of his rough jeans.

“Fuck, baby.” Eddie breathes out into the expanse of your neck as he sucks and kisses the tender area, after a particularly hard roll of your hips.

“I want you to strip for me, and then I wanna taste you.” He whispers into the shell of your ear, before taking your earlobe into his mouth and sucking.

“Actually Ed’s, wanna try something?” You boldly say as you bat your lashes down at the metalhead.

“Oh yeah? Well lay it on me princess.” He replies, sinking further into the cushions as he playfully taps his chest.

“Um, well…” you trail off, all the confidence seemingly evaporating from your body.

“C’mon sweet girl, you know you can tell me anything.” He softly says as he runs his ringed fingers over your cheek bone.

You decide it would be easier to show him what you want, so you mirror the position from the porno, getting on your knees and in between his spread legs.

“Mmm, you wanna suck my cock, is that it?” He smirks, while looking down at your glossy, lust filled eyes.

You don’t answer, instead you bring your shaky hands to undo his handcuff belt, but he instantly notices and takes your hands in his, he brings his chin down to his chest, trying to catch your eye.

“Baby, talk to me.” He says with concern as he pulls you from your knees to sit in his lap, his arms wrap around your waist as he kisses the top of your head.

“I um,” you start, not knowing how to put what you want into words but deciding to be truthful about it.

“Well okay, here’s the truth..” you take a deep breath before continuing “I stopped by family video the other day, and I was curious so I went to the adult section and I found a tape, I decided to rent it and well… it was really hot and I wanna try it on you.” You say while hiding your face in his chest.

His eyebrows shoot up under his bangs in intrigue.

“Well now you gotta tell me, baby.” He says before gently grabbing your chin with his fingers and finally looking into your eyes.

You swallow hard before you finally come out with it, “I wanna eat your ass.” You hate the way it sounds coming out of your mouth, which is exactly why you took so long to finally say it.

Eddie’s eyes widen, he’s in shock that you would even suggest it, he’s no stranger to it, but it just doesn’t seem like something chicks would be into.

All of his sexual encounters before you had been with men, but he’s always been a top, in other words he’s eaten plenty of ass but never had it given in return. Never had his ass played with at all.

But he would let you do whatever you wanted to him, without a doubt and hearing that something like that turns you on is making his cock painfully hard in his tight jeans.

“Fuck, you wanna give me a rim job, princess?” He breathily says, as if all the wind had been knocked out of him.

“Mmhm.” You say through your bitten lip.

“Get back on your knees for me, angel.” He says while patting the exposed flesh of your thigh.

You do as you’re told, shifting around to find a comfortable enough position.

“Good girl.” Eddie smiles down at you with his lust blown eyes, his dimples on full display as his smile causes light creases in his skin.

Eddie helps you remove his belt and jeans, pulling his jeans and checkered boxers down in one swoop and playfully kicking them off his feet, making you giggle before grabbing and pulling them off the rest of the way.

You move in closer, your hands rub up and down Eddie’s thighs as your eyes rake over his body, he looks so good, his bangs slightly sticking to his forehead from the growing heat in the trailer.

He’s looking down at you with so much love and lust, it makes your head spin.

You try your best to remember everything the woman was doing on the tape.

So you wrap your hand around Eddie’s hard, throbbing cock and stick your tongue out, giving it a few slaps against the pink wet muscle.

“Oh, fuck.” Whimpers Eddie before he’s tearing his shirt off over his head, and tossing it somewhere behind you.

You take his tip in your mouth and begin sucking, taking him in deeper until he reaches the back of your throat, you close your eyes and breath through your nose willing yourself not to choke on it. You bob your head fucking your own mouth on his cock, allowing for that build up of spit to pool in your mouth.

You pull off of him with a pop before spitting on his tip, you curl your fingers back around him and begin spreading your saliva around the reddened head, all the way down to where the shaft meets his balls, the quick movements create a slick sound that squelches out into the muggy room.

“Jesus Christ baby, you weren’t fucking around were you?” He chuckles as he lightly squirms in his seat, it feels too fucking good and he’s trying his hardest not already blow his load.

You giggle and smile up at him from your place on your knees, that picture alone of you with your cute fucking giggle and beautiful smile along with your spit soaked lips and chin were so close to doing him in.

You wink at him before you move down to his balls and begin light licks and sucks at the tender skin.

“Oh my god, fuck yes.” He’s a babbling, whimpering mess and you have never felt so fucking powerful.

Finally after you worship his balls with a few more gentle sucks, you take his thighs and spread them out more, almost lifting them up into the air, making Eddie fall back further into the couch as his eyes widen at your manhandling.

He scoots down, his ass almost halfway off the couch as he brings his knees in towards his stomach, giving you the perfect view of his tight pink hole.

You continue to stroke him, his cock still slippery from all of your spit.

“You ready?” You quietly ask, Eddie nods his head as he bites down on his lip.

You wanted to tease him like he does you and give him the “use your words” bullshit, but you’re just as eager as he is, so you take that as his final answer.

Your tongue lightly brushes against his hole, making him slightly jump in surprise. You put more pressure on your tongue, getting more into it as you go. You imagine this is what eating a girl's pussy would be like, which is something you’d always wanted to try.

“Holy fuck!” Eddie gasps from above you, “oh fuck, th-that feels so good, baby.” He’s been reduced to a complete puddle, his cock is leaking so much precum, you wanted to just lick it all up. You get an idea and bring your tongue to his tip, licking his mess but you don’t swallow, instead you let it sit in your mouth before bringing the precum to his asshole, using it as lubrication to gently slip your tongue into his tight muscle.

Eddie looks down at you in utter shock, he’s never been so turned on and ready to burst in his life.

“Baby, baby, holy- you gotta stop or I’m gonna cum.” He whines, as his head falls back at the overwhelming pleasure of it all.

You slip your tongue out, a mischievous glint in your eyes has Eddie’s breath hitches in his throat.

“Can I finger you while I suck your cock, Ed?” You implore with a pout of your vibrant colored lips.

“Oh my god.” Eddie rubs at his face in astonishment, were you trying to kill him?

“Is that a yes?” You timidly ask, not sure if his reaction was good or bad.

Eddie lifts his head up again, meeting your eyes with a smile.

“You’re a little fucking minx, you know that?” He sighs before finally answering your question—

“Yes, you can do whatever you want to me, sweet girl.” He slams his head back into the cushions, bracing himself for the intrusion.

You spit on your finger tips and rub it into his hole, before doing it again, making sure to get it nice and wet. You had a friend who told you she tried to do anal dry, and it hurt like hell. So you know you have to get it nice and prepped with your spit before you finally proceed.

You rub more of your spit around before taking your middle finger and ever so slowly entering Eddie’s asshole.

His hands instantly grab for the fabric of the cushions, hanging on for dear life because the way you were making him feel, was beyond his comprehension.

He thought for sure if he’d let go, he’d float away.

You slip your finger in to the knuckle, while Eddie continues his incoherent babbling.

You begin slowly moving in and out while simultaneously taking Eddie’s cock in your mouth, his whole body stiffens as he lets out a guttural groan.

You let him hit the back of your throat over and over while speeding up your finger. The noises from his wet asshole to the sounds of you sucking him off and his beautiful, pleasure filled moans has your clit throbbing and begging for friction.

“Mmm, baby, Im- holy fuck I’m gonna cum, gonna cum in your fucking mouth!” He shouts as his eyes roll back in his head.

He looks down at you one last time, before he begins shooting rope after rope of warm cum into your mouth. You make a show of swallowing and licking the rest of his cock clean, you slowly remove your finger from his hole and bring it up to your lips, sucking it, just like he does when he fingers you.

Eddie’s sat up on the palms of his hands as he watches the display, he instantly growls in satisfaction and pulls you by the loops of your jeans shorts onto his lap, he grabs your face and smashes his lips to yours, a sloppy spit filled kiss.

Eddie moans at the taste of himself on you.

He was in heaven and you were a fucking angel.

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

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 months

Text

Napoleonville [Chapter 6: The House Of Salt And Scales]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, references to sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, infidelity, Evangelical Christians, kids, parenthood, Willis Warning, (Mis)Adventures With Aegon, Targ family dysfunction, bodily injury, blood, alligators, ANGST!!!

Word Count: 7.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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“Did you hear that Willis is single again?”

Ugh. “Yes, Mama. I heard. You told me already.” You linger in the doorway with a white bakery box in your hands: your mother’s favorite, grasshopper pie, straight out of the 1960s. She allegedly ate through two a week when she was pregnant with you. Cadi has already dashed inside and made herself at home; she’s probably jamming the movie she got from Blockbuster—Predator, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Amir recommended it—into the VHS player. “You told me, Willis told me, all his deputies told me, Cadi told me, my mailman told me, the checkout ladies at the Piggly Wiggly told me, literally every resident of Napoleonville has informed me in no uncertain terms that Willis is single again. And I could not possibly care less.”

Your mother sighs and presses a hand to her forehead, wounded and incredulous, like she’s just watched a 60 Minutes segments about a tsunami or a genocide. “I just don’t understand it. In my day, people married for life.”

You glance back longingly at your Chevy Celebrity. “Yeah. I know they did.”

“When your father, and God rest his soul, when he was young, he was a hellion,” your mother says, as if you don’t remember it, as if you weren’t there. “He’d get his paycheck every Friday and stay out all night with his buddies, sometimes he didn’t come home the whole weekend. I’d lay into him when he finally showed, I’d say, ‘Rene, how on earth am I supposed to put dinner on the table if I don’t have any fish in the icebox?!’ Once he punched a hole in the kitchen wall and I had to cover it up with a picture of President Eisenhower! And I never even thought about leaving. How could I have done that to you? Forcing you to grow up in a broken home? Mothers and fathers living apart, whoever heard of such a thing? It’s unnatural.”

You’re brainstorming recipes to distract yourself. Caramel pretzel cookies. Banana chiffon pie. Cheese Danish cupcakes with diced cherries and a hint of vanilla. “Everyone draws their own lines, Mama.”

“But it’s not just about you,” she implores, her eyes shimmering with sympathy she never had for other women. You remember what she said on the rare occasions you confided in her about your frustrations with Willis: Of course a man isn’t going to want you bothering him with your feelings when he’s had a hard day at work. Of course a man—after you’ve had his baby, after you almost died to do it—is going to be crossing off days on the calendar until you can have sex again. He keeps a roof over your head and he never hits you, what more could you ask for? “What about Cadi? What if she grows up thinking that her marriage vows don’t mean anything? It’s the foundation of society, marriage. If that goes, everything goes.”

It’s the foundation of a lot of coercion and unfairness and misery, that’s for sure. “I wouldn’t want Cadi to stay in a situation that makes her unhappy. Would you?”

Your mother throws her hands up, like you’ve told her you’re converting to communism and catching the next flight to the USSR. “Life isn’t just about happiness, sweetheart! It’s about commitment, it’s about responsibility! If everyone did what they wanted all the time, no one would stay married!”

“Maybe that speaks to the value of marriage as an institution.”

“And morality is already falling apart in this country,” your mother continues, ignoring you. That’s what she does when she can’t refute facts, logic, evidence. “Young people living together, women having babies with two or three different men, people doing drugs, people on Welfare, people shooting and stabbing each other, sex shops everywhere, naughty magazines at gas stations, men wanting to marry other men—”

“Okay, Mama. I really have to go now.”

“Alright, I’ll shut up. I will, I will, I swear.” She makes peace with a brisk kiss to your cheek like a stamp on an envelope. “Enjoy a nice quiet night to yourself. Do you have any plans?”

Well, Mama, I’m trying to resist the temptation to call my engaged dominant oil tycoon not-boyfriend and tell him to come over for kinky adulterous sex. “Not really. I’ll probably take a bubble bath and then watch something Cadi would think is boring, like 20/20.” You hand over the bakery box, and your mother’s face lights up.

“Grasshopper pie?!”

“Of course.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. You know it’s hard for me to make it myself anymore. This rheumatoid arthritis, it’s got me all twisted up.” She nods down to where her fingers grip the box, knobby and increasingly useless.

“When’s your next appointment?”

“I’ve got one in…oh…about three weeks, I think. I’d have to check my daybook. All the way over in New Orleans with some specialist that Dr. Cormier recommended.”

“Okay. Want me to go with you?”

“Yes, that’d be fine.” It would be more than fine; she wants you to go, though she won’t say it. You aren’t sure if she doesn’t want to impose or doesn’t want to admit how reliant she’s becoming upon you, like growing up in reverse.

“Mawmaw!” Cadi shouts from inside the house. “Hurry up! I want to watch Predator!”

“You quit your hollering, I’ll be right there!” Then your mother looks to you and offers one last piece of very unsolicited advice. “Just be kind to Willis, alright? Give him a chance. I don’t think he’ll ever find a woman he likes as much as you. That’s what everyone says.”

“Mama, he has no idea who I am.” And he’s not interested either.

“Sure he does. You’re the mother of his child, and you always will be. Maybe you’ll find your way back to each other.”

“I’ll think about it.” You definitely won’t. “Goodnight, Mama.”

“So long.” She shuffles into the house, and once she’s shut the door you hear her muffled voice: “Arcadia, come on over here and help me slice up this pie…”

You drive home with the windows down and blasting St. Elmo’s Fire. There’s still an hour or two of sunlight left; the world is painted in gold and blood orange, the soybeans, the sugarcane, the grass growing tall and wild, the Spanish moss swinging from the trees, the earth ripening as its revolution hurtles towards the apex of summer. Cadi is out of school until August. Amir will be announcing his looming departure to San Francisco. Aemond will be getting married.

The adolescent alligator that Aemond is so afraid of is in the far corner of the front yard, basking in the last of the daylight. You walk into your room, flop down on the bed, lie there staring longingly at the pink phone on your nightstand. You reach to pick it up, then stop yourself. Aemond hasn’t fucked you, hasn’t kissed you, has rarely touched you at all since you found out about Christabel. But he stops by your house and invites you to his; he stitches himself into your life like someone somewhere once sutured his face back together.

I can’t. It’s wrong. He’s engaged.

Aemond doesn’t know you’re home alone. It’s Friday, and usually Cadi would be here with you until tomorrow morning.

Maybe it’s not really cheating until he’s married. I mean, if Aemond and Christabel aren’t sleeping together, if they almost never see each other…is it even a real relationship?

Wistful thinking, yes, denial, yes; but with each passing minute your resolve not to pick up the phone weakens.

We don’t have much longer until the wedding. Our time is slipping away.

He’s a robber baron. He’s arrogant, he’s delusional.

And I want him. I still do, and I can’t stop.

The phone rings. You sit up, startled. It’s not Aemond, you tell yourself so you won’t be disappointed when it isn’t him. But it is.

“Hi,” Aemond says; he sounds out of breath. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

“No, it’s okay, Cadi is actually having a sleepover with my mom. They’re watching Predator. My mom has no idea what it’s about, she’ll be clutching that Bible she got signed by Jerry Falwell a little extra hard tonight. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound random, but…you haven’t seen Aegon, have you? He hasn’t shown up at your house, he hasn’t called? You don’t know where he is?”

Aegon? Why would I know anything about what Aegon’s doing right now? “Um, no…?”

A long exhale, a lull that’s full of dread.

“Aemond, what’s going on?”

“He and my father got into it a few hours ago. They were screaming at each other, kicking furniture over, which isn’t all that unusual, honestly. But then Aegon ran away.”

“Wait, like, he’s gone…?”

“He stormed out the back door, went down to the lake, and then headed north into the trees. And I assumed he’d be back by now, but it’s getting dark and he’s not here. He never came home. His Porsche is still sitting in the driveway.” There is a pause. “I think he’s out there.”

“Out where?”

“In the woods,” Aemond says, shellshocked, terrified. “In the bayou.”

Your eyes dart to the window; the golden daylight is dwindling. “Aemond, he can’t be alone in the bayou. It’s dangerous. He could die. There aren’t just alligators, there are wild boars, cottonmouths, copperheads, snapping turtles, brown recluses, fire ants, I don’t think there are any black bears this far south but it’s always possible, he could drown, he could get trapped in quicksand, you cannot let Aegon spend the night out there.”

“I don’t know what to do.” You’re not used to hearing this in Aemond’s voice: the panic, the vulnerability. “No one else seems worried. They said he disappears all the time, and that’s true. They’re convinced he’s found his way to a strip club or a Waffle House or something and will drag himself home eventually. No one will listen to me. My father has forbidden me from getting anyone else involved. He doesn’t want gossip getting around town and overshadowing the new rig project or…you know. The wedding thing. My wedding. And I can go over his head, sure, I can make calls, but when investigators show up here to start searching my father is just going to tell them to leave. How is it even possible to find Aegon? At night in a fucking swamp? Is anyone going to be willing to go out there before morning? Do I need people with bloodhounds or a helicopter?”

No way, you think as soon as the idea hits you. But it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. “I can think of someone who knows their way around the bayou.”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s just after 7 p.m. when Willis arrives to pick you up: grinning smugly, mullet fluffed, Plymouth Gran Fury hauling his brand new 20-foot jon boat. He’s dressed for night fishing in boots, camo-colored waders, and a grey hoodie with SHERIFF printed across the front in black letters. You climb into the passenger seat wearing sneakers, denim shorts, and a blue raincoat over your Pepsi t-shirt. You haven’t been fishing since you were married to Willis, and you’ve never missed it. It’s a grisly business: hooks through lips, hooks through eyeballs, hooks swallowed and tangled up in some doomed creature’s guts.

Aemond is waiting at the mouth of the Targaryens’ driveway, just out of sight of the mansion they call The Last Desire. He gets in the back seat and sits there testily with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line, glaring out the window as an indistinct blur of primeval vegetation passes by outside. He has on his Marlboro jacket, light-wash jeans, and Adidas sneakers. You hope he doesn’t ruin them; although you suppose he can always buy more. He could buy a hundred more, a thousand more, and it wouldn’t make a difference. You can’t fathom what it’s like to live that way. It seems to conflict with all the laws of man and nature.

Aemond speaks grudgingly to Willis, a quick flat statement that invites no conversation. He didn’t call Willis to explain the situation, you did. You’re afraid to leave them alone with each other. You aren’t sure who would be more likely to end up a corpse decomposing in the muddy silt at the bottom of Lake Verret. “Thank you for agreeing to help with this.”

Willis chuckles warmly, either oblivious to Aemond’s prickliness or unbothered by it. “Bien sur! It’s my job, son. We’ll hunt your brother down.” Then he glances over at you, smirking, prying. “So, sugar…how’d you two make each other’s acquaintance?”

“Amir and I baked the cakes for his engagement party.”

“Engagement party, huh?” Willis looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “You gettin’ married?”

Aemond is still staring out the window. “Obviously.”

“So you ain’t single?”

“Legally, I am in fact single until the day the marriage license is signed.”

Willis returns his attention to you. “So he ain’t the petit ami you’ve been so secretive about.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend, Willis. I really can’t be more clear than that.”

“Oh, I know you got one. I know all your looks, sugar. Some days you come ‘round my office lookin’ lovesick, like you’re just a-floatin’ on a cloud. Other days you’re real mean, like you don’t want me takin’ none of your time, like you got somebody more important to spend it on. And then sometimes you just look…” He smiles, mischievous. “Well, how can I put it? Satisfied. The cat who ate the canary. And I recall exactly what that looks like on you. It’s been a while, sure. But I remember.”

From the back seat, Aemond sighs irritably. You say to Willis: “Can we please focus on finding Aegon?”

“Sois calme, sois calme. That’s why I’m here. We’ll be in the water in ten minutes.”

There is no more discussion; the only sound is the radio, Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler. Willis turns onto a winding dirt road that leads to a boat launch about a mile from the Targaryens’ property. He spins his Plymouth Gran Fury around and backs it down the concrete ramp towards the rippling, slow-moving currents of Lake Verret. It’s difficult to see from the driver’s seat—most people would have someone get out to guide them—but Willis knows the way by heart. He’s been on boats since before he could walk; Willis’ daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy knew the bayou, and his daddy did too, all the way back to before the Louisiana Purchase. Your family are newer arrivals (relatively speaking), having only been in Napoleonville for about 100 years and keeping mostly to the town. You remember your 11th grade science teacher saying once that alligators have been around since before the dinosaurs went extinct. Maybe that’s what Willis is: a relic of a distant time and species, afflicted with a cunning ruggedness that won’t allow his kind to go extinct.

When the trailer is mostly underwater, Willis gets out of the car to unhook the straps that keep the boat moored to it. You go outside to help and Aemond follows, though he doesn’t know what to do. He’s never handled a boat this size and it shows; perhaps a yacht would be more his speed. He stands aside and watches, frowning, hands buried in the pockets of his Marlboro jacket. His lack of expertise riles him. He’s not used to being the incapable one. He hates not having control.

Willis already has a tow rope tied to a metal handle at the bow of the jon boat; he lifts it out and gives the free end to Aemond. “Hold onto that, will ya? Don’t let her get away.”

“Sure,” Aemond replies ungenerously. Willis returns to his Plymouth Gran Fury to finish backing the trailer into the lake until the boat floats. Standing on the shore together, you and Aemond stare at each other, unable to speak honestly, unable to decide what you’d say even if you could.

The jon boat bobs in the water, and you show Aemond how to pull it away from the trailer using the tow rope. Willis drives the trailer back onto dry land, parks his car in a flat area near the boat launch, and then joins you and Aemond by the water’s edge. He walks to where the boat is floating just to the right side of the concrete ramp and, with some difficulty, clambers inside as the boat rocks under his weight. Then he stands in the middle of it and gestures for you to approach. “Let’s get goin’, sugar.”

You take Willis’ hands when he reaches for you and let him help you into the jon boat. When you stumble over a bench seat, he steadies you with a hand on your waist, familiar but in no way erotic; not for you, at least. Still, from where he is standing on the lakeshore with the tow rope, Aemond glowers venomously.

“Your turn, son,” Willis calls to him, winking. “And I promise not to get too sweet with ya.”

But Aemond doesn’t need any assistance to board the vessel. He has long limbs, good balance, and an ironclad determination not to let Willis see him falter. Aemond sits at the bow of the boat. You claim a spot in the middle. Willis takes a seat at the stern, starts the outboard motor, and guides the boat into the treacherous swampland that lurks like a stalking animal at the edges of Lake Verret.

In the bayou, the water is sluggish, currentless, thick with vivid green salvinia and duckweed. Towering bald cypress trees grow out of the opaque depths and are adorned with greyish, anemic bundles of Spanish moss like spiderwebs. Mangrove trees with their myriad of semi-submerged roots are sanctuaries for catfish, turtles, baby alligators. Larger gators—as big as the female that lives in your yard, and some up to seven or eight feet—prowl with only their nostrils and ancient yellow eyes peeking out from under the water. Great blue herons tiptoe along the shallow shoreline and stab at fish that unknowingly flit between their long skeletal legs. Cicadas shriek in the trees so loudly they almost drown out the hum of the boat’s motor. When the last of the daylight vanishes, Willis tells Aemond to turn on the spotlight mounted to the bow, and the water becomes a soupy, greenish, primordial witch’s brew beneath its glow. Aemond lights a cigarette and puffs on it as he ponders this alien corner of the world that he’s found himself in.

Willis has a number of items stowed on the flat aluminum floor of the boat, you notice now: nets, paddles in case the motor fails, bottles of water, ropes, fishing poles, flashlights, hunting knives, a few sturdy wooden walking sticks. He’s wearing his sheriff’s pistol on a belt fastened over his waders. This makes you uneasy, though you can’t recall ever seeing him use it. It seems wrong to be able to end a life with so little effort.

“Aegon!” Aemond shouts from the bow, using a flashlight to look to the sides of the boat where the spotlight’s luminescence doesn’t shine so brightly. You grab your own flashlight to help him search. “Aegon! Where are you?!”

There’s something burning in your nose and throat as you lean over the side of the boat to peer into the shadowy wilderness. Salt, you realize, but that doesn’t make any sense. Lake Verret is a freshwater lake. You turn towards where Willis is steering the boat with the rumbling gas-powered motor. “Do you smell that?”

“Yup. Sure do.”

“But…how…?”

“One of the rigs mighta hit a salt dome while they were drillin’, I figure,” Willis says. “There’s been talk for years that we got salt domes under the lake. But that don’t stop these oil companies.” He stares meaningfully at Aemond. Aemond glances back, rather abashed. “And ya know what that means. If the water turns brackish, most of the fish’ll die. And who’s got to live with that for generations to come? Not the Targaryens or the Rockefellers, that’s for sure.”

Aemond resumes shouting for his wayward eldest brother. A dark snake, perhaps six feet long, slithers down the length of the boat through the murky water. “Aegon! Aegon!”

“What did he and Viserys argue about?” you ask.

Aemond is cagy. “It’s…kind of personal.”

“Personal like he got a stripper pregnant or personal like he murdered someone in a drunken hit-and-run?”

“Neither. But closer to the first option.” Then he roars into the darkness: “Aegon!”

“Maybe the bon a rien already found his way back home,” Willis says. “Maybe—”

And then there is an echo through the bayou, faint but vaguely human, a ghost, a phantom. “Aegon!” Aemond shouts back. “Where are you?!” Willis cuts the boat engine so you can hear the reply.

Faintly, very faintly, his disembodied voice drifts out of the trees. “Over here! Help me! Quickly! Seriously, really really quickly!!”

“Keep talking!” Aemond yells. Willis is listening intently, trying to pinpoint a direction. His thick, dark eyebrows are knit together in concentration that is rare for him.

Barely audible over the screams of the cicadas: “What the fuck am I supposed to say?! Just get over here and save me!”

“We’re trying to figure out where your voice is coming from, so don’t stop talking!”

“Help me! Come help me!! Right now!! My arms are getting tired!!”

“What? What are you doing with your arms?!”

“I got him,” Willis says. He restarts the motor and steers the boat down a narrow corridor of the swamp. The path is only about ten yards wide and bordered by mangrove trees with nests of exposed, labyrinthian roots. The water is probably relatively shallow: five feet, ten feet, just deep enough for secrets. The breeze is cool and wet, almost chilly. On the shore, you spy a snapping turtle the size of a golden retriever. Its long prehistoric claws are coated with mud and green blades of marsh grass. It ogles you as if to say: What are you doing here? You don’t belong here. This is where the dinosaurs that survived the asteroid live.

“Aegon?” Aemond calls.

“Here! Over here! I can see you, I see the lights! Oh my God, I’m not gonna die! Thank you Jesus!”

Aemond laughs in relief. “I didn’t think you two knew each other.”

“Shut up and save me, you muppet!”

And then you see Aegon—the spotlight hits him, he is illuminated in a stark white glow—and your stomach plummets, your blood goes cold. In an alcove of the bayou, right where the water meets the shore, Aegon is up in a bald cypress tree. He’s about five feet off the ground and standing on top of a branch just thick enough to hold his weight. It’s too narrow to balance comfortably on; he is hugging the trunk to ensure he doesn’t fall, and a fall would be catastrophic. Sprawled on the muck surrounding the base of the tree are a plethora of alligators, all approximately ten feet in length. That’s big enough to be lethal humans. That would be big enough to kill a bear, a horse, a shark. When the spotlight shines on them, the gators begin to squirm and hiss, glaring with soulless reptilian wrath at the boat. Willis shuts off the motor, and the boat bobs placidly.

“Oh, fuck,” Aemond says.

“Yeah, exactly!” Aegon pitches back. He’s wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt and tiny turquoise blue shorts. He is barefoot. “So what’s the plan?! By the way, hey, cake lady.”

“Hi, Aegon.”

Aemond says: “How the hell did you get up there?”

“I was pissed off about the dad thing and I was walking for a long time, then I realized I was probably in the wrong neighborhood for someone with two legs and no desire to get eaten. I tried to find my way back but then these pig-looking things started chasing me and I freaked out and climbed up here to hide until they left. But as the sun went down, alligators started showing up. And the more time went by, the more alligators there were. And that’s the whole story, can you get me down now?!”

Aemond asks Willis, petrified: “How do we get him down?”

Willis surveys the scene for a moment, thinking. “Alright. Here’s what I reckon. We can toss him one end of a rope and he can tie it to the branch above him, right at the base where it’s real thick. Then we’ll hold the other end of the rope, and he can kinda shimmy on down it into the boat.”

Aegon says: “But what if right before I get to the boat, when I’m like four feet above the water, an alligator jumps out and bites me?”

“They don’t usually do that,” Willis replies.

“Usually?!”

“Look, we don’t have a lot of options,” Aemond tells his brother. “We can do the rope plan now, or we can leave you here, backtrack all the way to the boat launch, get the car, get some help, and hope they magically have a better solution for you. Or you can wait up there until morning to see if the alligators leave. You pick.”

“Isn’t that the hick sheriff guy? Can’t he shoot them?”

“Gators got brains ‘bout the size of a walnut, son,” Willis says. “And if I don’t hit ‘em where it counts, I’m just gonna make them angrier. That ain’t good for any of us.”

“Okay,” Aegon concedes. “Throw me a rope.”

Willis grabs one from the bottom of the jon boat, hands an end to Aemond, and tosses the other to Aegon. It takes the eldest Targaryen boy four attempts to catch it; the rope keeps falling and smacking the hissing alligators in the face before Willis lugs it back to the boat to try again. Once he finally obtains the rope, Aegon knots it—double, triple, quadruple—around where the branch above him, just barely within reach if he stretches as far as he can, meets the massive trunk of the bald cypress tree. Willis tells Aemond: “Now ya gotta hold the rope real tight. No slack at all, or it’ll dip and he’ll end up in a gator’s lap.”

“Yeah, Aemond!” Aegon says, his voice shaky. “No slack!”

“Got it.” Aemond loops his end of the rope around his waist, makes a knot, and then grips it with both hands and tugs it until it forms a straight diagonal line from the tree to the boat.

“Ya sure you wanna do that?” Willia says softly, nodding to Aemond’s waist. “If somethin’ goes wrong and he ends up in the water, you’ll be goin’ in with him.”

“I’m sure.”

“Alrighty.” Willis grabs one of the heavy wooden walking sticks from the aluminum floor of the boat. “If a gator tries to cause a problem, I’ll whack ‘em good. Don’t let ‘em get their jaws ‘round ya, not an arm or a leg or nothin’. If they get ahold of ya, they’ll roll and rip your bones right outta the sockets.”

“Awesome,” Aegon says from the tree. “I’m so glad you told me that. Yeah. Great. Any more super helpful alligator trivia, Sasquatch?”

“Yes sir. If one chomps down on ya, poke it in the eye with your fingers. A whack to the snout or a poke to the eye is the best way outta a gator’s mouth.”

Aegon gulps and clutches the rope, steeling himself.

“What should I do?” you ask Willis. “Should I get a stick too—?”

“Nothin’. You don’t do nothin’. You just sit down right in the middle and keep the boat steady. And if your petit ami starts goin’ overboard, maybe try to snatch him. But don’t ya fall in. Ya don’t want to be in that water. If there are gators above the water, there are gators below too. I guarantee it.”

You sit in the precise middle of the boat, using your weight to reinforce the vessel’s center of gravity as Aemond and Willis stand at opposing ends. Right before Aegon begins his descent, Aemond snags your attention. He makes a motion with one hand, a slicing, a prohibition. Don’t do anything insane, he means. Don’t risk trying to drag me back into the boat if I start going over.

“Whenever ya ready, bon a rien,” Willis says. And no one else but you knows that what he’s calling Aegon is a good-for-nothing.

Aegon begins scurrying down the length of the rope, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the bobbing jon boat. He passes above the hissing gators congregating at the base of the bald cypress tree and then over the water, where there are ripples that multiply out from epicenters and flashes of movement just beneath the surface but no homicidal alligator activity. When Aegon nears the boat, Willis seizes him and helps him into it; and then Aegon ruptures into hysterical giggles.

“I almost died, can you believe that?” he asks Aemond, who is untying the rope from his waist and beaming, the first real smile you’ve seen from him tonight. “Because I ran away from Viserys?! What an idiotic way to go. I’ll never let that bastard convince me to off myself. I gotta outlive him. I gotta do Jello shots on that motherfucker’s grave someday.”

“Yeah, you do,” Aemond agrees, squeezing Aegon’s shoulder.

“Goddammit,” Willis grumbles. He’s using his walking stick to jab at the water near the rear of the boat. “We’re hooked on a mangrove root or something.”

“Do you need help?” Aemond asks, headed towards him.

“Yes sir, if you’d be so kind. I don’t…I can’t see…what the hell is it stuck to?”

“The motor…? The blades of the motor?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, you’re right. Yup. There it is. We musta drifted into it while we were preoccupied. Okay, we gotta push the boat off the root and then we can get movin’ again. Grab a stick, let’s start pushin’.”

“Should I get a stick too?” Aegon says, joining them. “I can hit stuff with sticks. I really want to get out of here…”

There’s a bit of a commotion at the back of the boat as the men try to propel it away from the mangrove tree. Willis is complaining that the water is too deep to touch the bottom with his stick. Aemond’s stick keeps slipping off the mangrove roots when he tries to get leverage. You aren’t sure what Aegon is contributing, if anything. The boat has begun to rock.

You look to the tree where Aegon had been imprisoned. The alligators are fully awake now; they are headed into the water and disappearing there, unseen, unheard, and yet all around you.

“I think we need to go now,” you say, but no one is listening to you. They’re still wrestling with the mangrove root. You rise, taking a few steps to the left to offset the boat’s listing towards the right. “Guys, we need to—”

The boat is freed from its organic jailor and lurches sharply towards the left. As the men cheer triumphantly—completely unaware of what’s happening—you are jolted off your feet and tumble backwards over the side of the boat.

The shock of hitting the water stuns you. It is cold and impossibly dark; when you open your eyes to try to find the surface, the boat, you can’t see anything. You paddle blindly. Something brushes your leg, and you scream bubbles of mute terror. You can’t breathe, you can’t think, you are picturing those ten-foot gators slinking into the water that you’re now thrashing wildly through. You swim towards what you think is the surface and strike unyielding metal—the underbelly of the boat—hard enough to put stars in your skull like the flashes of lightning bugs. You get turned around and don’t know where you are again. Something glides past your arm, and you gasp before remembering that there’s no air. Dark water—salt and silt and decomposition—surges into your lungs, your stomach, sinking you like an anchor from within. There is a whirlpool of motion around you and muffled shouting. Then something closes around your wrist.

The eyes! you think frantically. I have to poke out its eyes!

But the vice around your flesh has no teeth. It’s not a reptilian jaw, you realize now, but a human hand. It leads you and you obey.

When you break the surface, you cough bayou water from your throat and blink it out of your eyes. Willis is leaning over the side of the boat and stabbing at gators with his stick, shrieking at them in French. One lunges at him from the water, jaws snapping. Willis whips the pistol off his belt, aims it squarely between the creature’s eyes, and fires. The boom is deafening; the bleeding gator sinks into the water. Aegon is kneeling in the boat and offering his arms to help you climb up.

You look beside you. Aemond is barely keeping his head above water. “Go!” he orders you. “Get in the boat!”

With Aegon’s help, you heave yourself over the side and collapse to the aluminum floor, lungs aching, skull pounding, heart thudding mercilessly, soaked to the skin. Then you force yourself to your hands and knees to see where Aemond is.

“Aemond?!” Aegon is yelling. “Aemond, where are you?!”

He’s gone; you don’t see him in the water. You try to scream for him too, but the water still in your throat strangles you. Your hands close around the edge of the boat, and Willis grabs your raincoat to yank you backwards. “Other side!” says, pointing. “We’re gonna capsize, we need weight on the other side, go there!”

You scramble to the opposite end of the boat, sobbing now, still hacking up muddy water. Where’s Aemond?? Where is he??

Both Willis and Aegon are grasping for something. They’re shouting and stabbing into the water with their walking sticks. And then they’re hauling him into the boat: Aemond, blood pouring down the left side of his face, a gash by his temple, another on his forehead; something bit him or clawed him. He’s wearing only his jeans and a white tank top; he ripped off his Marlboro jacket before diving in after you. You don’t see his Adidas sneakers anywhere. They must have been kicked off in the water. His glass eye has been knocked out and lost in the muck. What’s left in its place is a void, gaping, pink; it’s difficult to look at, you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t. It has the visceral, gory quality of organs never meant to be seen. His fingertips go to the socket to feel for his prosthetic. When he confirms it isn’t there, he covers his face with his hands and moans.

He saved me. He jumped in after me.

You crawl to him. “Aemond—”

“No!” He pushes you away, and you see that there’s blood and ancient silt from the bayou in his empty eye socket. It will have to be cleaned out. Willis watches, astonished, bewildered. For once, he is at a loss for words.

“Aemond, please…” You’d do anything to help him. You don’t know how to help him.

He saved me.

Aegon reaches for Aemond. “Hey, hey. It’s not that bad. Hey…” He drops to his knees, presses his forehead against Aemond’s, stains himself with his brother’s blood. And when Aemond tries to pull away, Aegon doesn’t let him; he’s got his fingers tangled in Aemond’s wet hair. “Thank you for saving me. I’m always almost getting myself killed and you’re always saving me. What would I do without you, huh? None of us would be okay without you. Thank you, Aemond. You hear me? You’re not gonna get this again anytime soon, so listen up. Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’m just so—”

“I know.”

“I hate that I’m like this.”

“It’s not a big deal. You’ll order a new one.”

“You know what he’s going to say.”

“Fuck him. Why do you care what he thinks? Because you think he’s the one who gets to decide what you’re worth? He isn’t. He’s not qualified.”

Aemond nods, but he doesn’t seem to be convinced. He still doesn’t look at you. He turns so the left side of his face—bloodied, eyeless—is angled towards the water and out of your view. Willis goes to the motor, starts it, and begins guiding the boat back towards the launch where he parked his Plymouth Gran Fury.

Aegon glances over at you. “You okay, cake lady?”

“Yeah.” But your voice shakes. The rest of you is shaking too; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, you can feel that you’re shivering in your wet clothes.

“Put it on,” Aemond says softly, and at first you don’t understand. Then you see that he’s pointing to his Marlboro jacket, left hurriedly flung on the floor of the boat. You unzip your dripping raincoat and don Aemond’s Marlboro jacket instead. It smells like him: smoke, cologne, effort, secrets.

“Thank you,” you tell him, wanting to say more. Aemond doesn’t answer. He stares into the murky water, greenish under the glare of the spotlight, and says nothing to anyone all the way back to the boat launch. Wordlessly, he helps Willis re-hitch the jon boat to the trailer. He remembers the steps. He’s a fast learner. The blood on his face is drying; his right eye won’t allow itself to look at you. The only sound on the drive to the Targaryens’ mansion is the radio of the Plymouth Gran Fury, which Willis turns up to cover the silence: In A Big Country.

At the end of the cobblestone driveway, lights are on in the vast house called The Last Desire. Everyone gets out of the car. Willis shakes a rather puzzled Aegon’s hand, then turns to Aemond, who ignores him. Willis chuckles, more curious than offended.

“So ya are the man who’s been givin’ her that satisfied look. I knew it. Yes, I knew what I saw. What’s your secret, son? Ya must really know your way around a woman if ya got her so mad about ya with a face like that. Ya look like the Rougarou got ahold of ya—”

Aemond grabs Willis by his hoodie, yanks him off his feet, jacks him up against the side of the sheriff’s vehicle. Immediately, you and Aegon are shouting and trying to break them apart.

You plead: “Aemond, don’t!”

“Aemond, he’s got a gun!” Aegon screeches.

Fortunately, Willis isn’t grappling for his pistol. He holds both palms in the air, open and empty, like he’s surrendering; but there’s still a smile on his face. Aemond doesn’t act like he’s heard anyone. He leans in close to Willis, his voice low and dark and snarling, his sole blue eye glinting. “You had so much in your filthy fucking hands and you just threw it away.” Then he slams Willis against the car one more time, tears away from him, and strides up the porch steps and into the house.

Aegon hurries after him, casting you a quick glance and a beckoning wave. It’s an invitation. You coming? Aegon mouths, and then vanishes inside.

Willis peers up at the house: stained glass windows, immense white columns. You don’t see any signs of Vhagar the Great Dane. Willis speaks calmly and without looking at you. “I think he’s in love with you, sugar.”

Improbable. Impossible. If he was, he couldn’t marry someone else. “He’s not.”

Now Willis’ eyes flick to you. “All I’m sayin’ is that I’ve been fishin’ on that lake since as long as I can remember, day, night, sun, storms, and nothin’ on earth would have gotten me to jump into that water. Not even Heather Locklear herself.”

“Just go, Willis,” you say, exhausted, heartsick. “Thank you for what you did tonight. But please go now.”

“How ya gonna get home?”

“I’ll figure it out. Don’t worry about me.”

“Of that, I am incapable,” Willis drawls. Then he climbs into his Plymouth Gran Fury and is gone. You sprint up the porch steps in your soggy sneakers, searching for Aemond.

In the white-and-gold foyer, Viserys is just arriving. He struts across the marble floor until he is close enough to his two oldest sons to embrace them, to hit them, to extract their teeth with his knuckles. The others pour through the doorways—Alicent, Criston, Helaena, Daeron, Otto—but while they gape in horror and fascination, they don’t speak in anything more than murmurs amongst themselves. Viserys steals only a glimpse of Aegon, swift and disinterested, then examines Aemond: wet clothes, no shoes, grime and blood, dazed fury. When his cool, pale gaze reaches Aemond’s empty eye socket, Viserys flinches and looks away.

“So you lost another prosthetic,” is all he says. His face twists into a grimace. And you expect Aemond to do something, to jab back, but he doesn’t. He’s frozen, he’s paralyzed. His right eye is misty. He’s biting his lips so they don’t tremble. And suddenly you hate Viserys Targaryen, you hate him more than you can imagine hating anyone. You think that you could watch his entrails unspooled from his body without feeling a thing. The Targaryen family patriarch hasn’t spoken to you; you don’t register to him at all. You might as well be an oriental vase or a house plant.

“You’re the one who did it, Viserys,” Aegon says, stepping in front of Aemond seething and sharp like a blade. “You remember that part? I do. I remember. The North Sea, 1968. I remember him trotting around after you, always so desperate to prove himself, always doing anything you asked, anything you could dream up, worshipping you like you were God. And where were you when he was getting his eye socket debrided at Moorfields Hospital? In fact, where were you when he got his hands caught in a winch when he was eleven? Where were you when he fell off a pipe deck and broke six ribs because one of your idiot employees forgot to close a safety gate and he couldn’t see it? Where were you then? Where are you now?”

Viserys scowls down at him—revolted, repelled—but he doesn’t reply. He feels no instinct to defend himself. He is unable to internalize shame; it rolls off him like raindrops.

“You’d love me so much if I was dead,” Aegon says, grinning, baring his teeth like an animal. “How sick is that? You can love bones in a box, but not someone standing right in front of you. You love Aemma, a ghost. You love Baelon, and you never even knew him. You’ve got nothing for me. That’s fine, I don’t care, I’ll be alright without you.” He points to Aemond. “But you’ve got nothing for him either, and he’s everything you always wanted. You’re disgusting, you’re broken. You belong in a box too. The part of you that was human is gone. I don’t give a fuck about what’s left.”

Aegon shoves Viserys, hard, and then storms past him. As he crosses into the kitchen, Helaena grabs for his wrist. You can hear her whisper: “What the hell happened?!”

Then Aegon remembers one last thing. He whirls around and bellows at Viserys, his voice reverberating off the vaulted ceilings: “And I’m not getting my vasectomy reversed! You can’t make me! It’s bioethics! I asked the lawyer!” He stomps off and disappears, Helaena in tow.

Alicent shoots Viserys a hateful glare and then flees from the foyer, her long auburn ringlets streaming out behind her. Viserys goes in the opposite direction. Daeron and Otto share an awkward glance and then depart as well. Only you, Criston, and Aemond remain in the room, surrounded by treasures that might as well be handfuls of earth, flour, swamp water, salt.

Cautiously, Criston lays a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, on his right side where he can see it. “Aemond…”

“Don’t touch me,” Aemond says as he wrenches away. He leaves like a hurricane, like a flood, receding until there remains only wreckage and memory.

Criston sighs deeply, and then he asks you: “Do you need a ride home?”

You don’t respond. You haven’t decided how to yet. You stare at the place where Aemond stood, a void like a star that died out. Do I follow him upstairs? you think.

Do I?

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond

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man-down-in-hatchet-town · 7 months

Text

VHSCC OH MY GOD

(no spoilers)

Starkid nation, you aren't ready.

So let's start with the obvious. Look, I spent thirteen years growing up with Starkid. That initial Michigan gang are deeply special to me and I will always miss Dylan, Brian R., and Corey in any show they aren't in. And this one's no different. But just as Janaya came in and took over Belle from Britney so flawlessly, Curt, Brian, and AJ were all WONDERFUL in their new roles. The gentle-but-high-energy, truly decent, romantic himbo charm Curt brought to our Springsteen boy Jim (you all are going to LOVE Jim, I promise) perfectly offset the defiant, sneering anger of Young Scrooge in "That Scrooge." Brian's reactions (particularly to the "rather take my own life" line) were so funny and some of my favorite parts of the show. And AJ... this is now my favorite thing AJ has ever done. And that's saying something. The smaller casting shake-up moments (Joey as Fezziwig, other little line re-distributions) were so fun as well!

The new act 1 is PERFECTION. I was actually surprised by how absolutely hysterical it was? Like, I won't tell you what was up with that clip on Instagram of Brian, Lauren, and Joey doing a freak-out dance, but I can tell you that their whole Act 1 deal threatened to steal the show every. Single. Time. I already mentioned Curt as Jim, but you will also love Della, who is so funny and real and truly carries us through the start of the show (Janaya is a STAR and she Curt have brilliant chemistry). Ali did a terrific job of balancing the sadness and hope that are both at the center of the devastating little Match Girl. And Jamie's Grandma... well, honestly I have no idea how to talk about Jamie's song without giving stuff away.

But the real star of the show in Act 1, as he should be, was our man Clark. I can't emphasize enough how much he nailed the writing of this whole new act. I mentioned that the new stuff is hilarious, but it's also deeply heartfelt, and also sad exactly when it needs to be. Like, the transition after Jamie's song? I can't really talk about it yet, but what that moment does with emotion is unreal. And, as expected, every song is a banger! My one complaint about this show, and it IS a big one, is that there is no cast recording of the Act 1 songs. I want to listen to them all the time.

But the good news is, I CAN listen to Christmas Carol as much as I want! The classic that started it all is back, with so many people reprising the hell out of their truly iconic roles (God I love the VHS Cratchits), and better than ever. I traditionally hate change, and I love the version of VHSCC Live! we already have so much, but I think I somehow loved this version even more? The staging is alive and clever and there are some additions and changes, particularly in "Final Ghost"/"Christmas Day," that frankly blew my mind and somehow managed to elevate the material even further. I can't wait for the digital ticket to come out so that I can talk about them. To put it simply, James Tolbert mastered his Starkid directorial debut like you won't believe. I'm so proud of him and grateful for the larger role he's taken in Starkid since they moved base to LA.

Also, the Ghost of Christmas Past is extra unhinged this year? Jaime pulled out all of the impish stops and it was the BEST.

Basically, everyone more than delivered. I haven't talked about Meredith yet but she rocked it in the band and continued to validate the hell out of my opinion that "3 Spirits" is the dark horse best song in the show.

And a special shout-out to June Saito for continuing to be a costuming GENIUS. I always love her work and this production is no exception. I honestly wanted to give the return of the Bob Cratchit costume its own round of applause.

You know, the world is a mess and everything is pretty much terrible. It's been a hard year in an impossible decade. But every once in a while you come across some art that takes all of that, acknowledges the truth of it, and somehow pulls back the curtains to harness the joy and hope that's still there under the rubble. To me, Starkid in particular has always been about finding and holding onto the hope and the beauty and humanity that allows us to endure an existence that can so often feel bleak. And VHSCC is maybe the most perfect encapsulation of that idea.

So thank you Clark, James, Meredith, Brian, and everyone who worked so hard on this little bit of magic. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Let's make a little light.

#apologies for any typos it is late and I've had a wild day #Also shout out to Meredith for the number of times she teared up while playing in the band #she is so real for that #starkid #team starkid #vhscc #vhs christmas carols #clark baxtresser #james tolbert #AJ Holmes #Meredith Stepien #Brian Holden #Janaya Mahealani Jones #Jamie Burns #Lauren Lopez #Ali Gordon #Curt Mega #Joey Richter #Jaime Lyn Beatty

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quickiesgirl · 1 year

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Saw your requests were open so I thought I would shoot my shot haha

Eddie Munson smut!!

You and Eddie are roommates and best friends. After one of your regular movie nights you over hear him masterbating in the room next to you and you can’t help but pleasure yourself to the sounds of your friend. This goes on for a while until you get caught.

Thank you so much for the request, babes! I’m sorry it took so long to finish. Needed a little break to refresh my mind. I really hope you like it and it is what you had in mind. <3

Sudden Urge - Eddie Munson

Paring: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+, Smut, Switch!Eddie, Masturbation, Caught, Fingering, Size Difference, Vaginal Sex, Riding, Unprotected, Best friends to Lovers.

The end credits of the movie rolled, and a light nudge was given to your arm by your roommate, implying that it was your turn to get the tape out since he did the night before.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You sighed in a joking manner, pulling yourself off the couch to tip-toe across the excruciatingly cold floor toward the television.

Your body shivered slightly since you were wearing little to nothing in your small pair of night shorts and long Metallica t-shirt, which you stole out of his closet.

“I'll give it to you, sweetheart. I actually enjoyed that movie,” Eddie said, making you glance back at him with a wide smile.

He had some doubts early on about the romantic film you chose, ‘Who’s That Girl,’ but was always down to cuddle on the couch and hang out with his best friend.

“I told you you'd like it, Eds."

Eddie’s hand abruptly squeezed his knee, ogling your body as you bent over in front of the television and reached down towards the VHS player, the light perfectly illuminating your inner thighs and the thin fabric rising high enough to show the base of your cheeks.

You placed the tape back with the other movies and walked back over to your roommate, noticing his gaze locked onto the floor, rarely looking you in the eye as he let out a fake, exhausted yawn, and extended his arms back, "Hey, I'm pretty tired… I think I'll head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too.” You agreed, picking up your blanket and throwing it over your shoulder, watching the long-haired boy slowly stand to his feet, careful not to face you, considering the massive tent bulging in the front of his gray sweatpants.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, sweetheart!” He said, giving you a small smile before the two of you descended to the privacy of your rooms for the night.

As you got ready for bed, you slipped out of your night shorts and under the covers, snuggling up with your blanket, inhaling Eddie's sweet scent that made butterflies fill your stomach.

Your eyes slowly shut as you lay in silence and let your mind wander back to your best friend’s arms with your body pressed into his side. His scent of tobacco and vanilla mixed together, along with the warmth of his body so close to yours, made you feel so safe and warm.

You and Eddie cuddled very often, but lately, it was different for you, less of a platonic type of feeling and something you wanted more out of. You never want to harm this relationship by bringing it up, so you hid it deep down inside and continued to hide your feelings.

A soft muffled groan echoed from the room beside you, making your eyes shoot open, staring into the dark, directly towards the wall your roommate's bedroom was behind as you overhear another groan, much louder than the last.

Curiosity filled your mind and made you lift from the mattress, scooting yourself closer to the wall to press your ear against it while he continued stroking himself.

You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, face growing completely warm to the touch. It was obvious what Eddie was doing, and you couldn't control the lusty feeling that filled your body.

The walls of these apartments were especially thin, and the two of you found this out almost immediately due to your noisy neighbors. That tiny detail must have slipped from his head, or perhaps he couldn’t control himself. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to stop him.

You just had to fall asleep and ignore it. Yet, you struggled to pull yourself away from the sounds of pleasure behind your wall.

What the hell were you doing? You can’t just listen to your best friend get off. That's an invasion of privacy. But, the ache between your thighs would say different.

You turned your bedside lamp on and crossed your arms over your chest, staring into the distance. There was no sleeping for you at this moment, and there was no intention of leaving yourself this horny.

You slid your hand into the waistband of your panties and cupped your pussy, circling your wet entrance with the tips of your fingers, spreading your arousal across your digits.

You hadn’t pleased yourself in weeks, mostly because you started looking at it like a chore. It was never the same as when someone else was there with you. But the idea of Eddie jerking off did something to you and made you touch yourself like never before.

Eddie laid against his mattress with a nudie magazine open, eyeing the centerfold of a beautiful woman on full display with extremely similar features to you.

“Mmh, fuck, sweetheart~” He says with a thick grunt, his pretty round thighs spread open with an eager hand wrapped around the base of his heavy erection, moving up and down his length with pre-cum leaking down his fist.

You reached under your shirt and massaged your breasts while your other hand rubbed at your clitoris in light circles for a few more moments, pussy continuously clenching around nothing.

You could tell he was trying to keep quiet, but the poor boy couldn’t help himself once his orgasm hit him, delighting you with submissive, shaky moans that made the coil tighten in your stomach. Picturing the way his thick, milky white cum released over his stomach and chest.

It had only been minutes since you heard him, giving Eddie enough time for his high to wear out and clean himself up. You were at the peak of the orgasm you so desperately craved, head tossing back against your pillows as your thighs trembled uncontrollably.

Before your heart dropped, hearing the sudden knock on your bedroom door, and your roommate opening it slightly to peek his head in on such a vulnerable moment.

“You still awake- oh, oh fuck-” His brown button eyes widened as he witnessed the sight of your thighs open and your hand slipped into your panties.

You raise quickly, head cloudy with lust as you snatch your blanket and cover yourself up. Embarrassment written on your face, forced to stare your best friend in the eyes while the two of you stayed frozen across each other

“I-I’m so sorry!..” Eddie stuttered over himself, struggling to pull his gaze from you before he turned around and began closing the door, but out of pure desperation, you called out in a whimper. “don't leave.”

Your gaze revealed to him exactly what you were begging for, and he was the only person who could help you. His wandering eyes look at you through long lashes, practically burning holes along your body, “Y-you want me to stay?”

You nodded your head as he took a few steps forward, moving closer to where you hid under the covers, and hand still stuffed in your panties, cupping your pussy. Eddie’s mind races the dirtiest fantasies that he’s imagined on those late, lonely nights.

“Need some help?” Eddie questioned, his low, sensual voice going straight to your pulsating clit as he walked beside the mattress, his calloused fingertips dragging along the comforter, using the same hand he had wrapped around his dick nearly a few minutes ago.

Veins protrude through the back of his hand, fingers much longer than yours with short bitten-down nails, turning you on almost as badly as the outline of his fat cock, already tenting through his gray sweatpants.

“Y-yes, please.” You tugged on your bottom lip, watching him slip his hand under the only thing keeping your modesty and follow up your warm, smooth skin, inching himself up your inner thigh.

Those chocolate brown eyes darkened as they look down at you, observing how your body reacted to his touch.

“Were you listening to me masturbate, sweetheart?”

“N-no..” You said in an attempt to lie, making a smirk spread across his face as he moved in close, placing his knee upon the edge of the mattress and his hand above your head on the bed frame. He cupped your clothe, throbbing cunt, feeling panties soaking to the touch as a soft gasp of pleasure escaped your lips.

“Now, go on, baby, tell me the truth…”

You were completely helpless under his touch. “I-I couldn't help myself, Eddie. You sounded so fucking hot touching yourself.”

He drags his tongue across his bottom lip in habit, gaze darting back and forth across your beautiful eyes and soft-looking lips until it finally became too much. You grasped the collar of his Dio shirt and pulled him down, connecting your lips with his.

A long-awaited kiss that was absolutely perfect, making needy moans slip past your slightly parted lips. Mouths move in sync, and noses graze each other's cheeks. The smell of Eddie’s previous cigarette still on his breath evokes your senses.

“You want me to help this- aching pussy?..” He speaks between your starved lips, stroking his middle and ring finger over your cunt.

“Please.”

With a swift motion, he pushed your cute patterned panties aside and drove two digits inside your perfect pussy, loving how tight and dripping wet you were, showing him how long it’s been since you’ve had a cock stretch you out.

“Fuuck, sweetheart.” Eddie groaned. His cock twitched with a mind of its own, pre-cum staining the front fabric of his restricting sweats, “Haven’t orgasmed yet, hm?... Let's fix that.”

Your hot inner walls pulsate around him, ecstasy coursing through your veins as your best friend slides his fingers in and out rhythmically. His thumb drives across your puffy clit, still numb and tingly.

Your hands moved down his chest, attaching one to hold the side of his small waist while the other reached down to palm his erection through his pants, watching his eyes widen as a moan slipped out, revealing to you just how much his boy has craved your touch.

“Please let me ride you, Ed’s.”

Next thing you knew, you had stripped your clothes off and were straddling his warm lap before burying your face in his inner neck, peppering him with hungry neck kisses that made him a moaning mess as he reached up and squeezed your tits.

“Oh fuck~” He sighed, feeling you grind your hot pussy across his clothed erection. “mhmm~ u-use my cock, baby, use me for your pleasure.”

You jog your fingers down between the waistband of his pants and glance up at him, watching him give an obedient nod. In which you give a quick tug to the fabric and slide it past his thighs. Your body freezes as his dick springs out, slapping him in the stomach.

You could practically see the veins pumping along the underside of his thick, lengthy cock, the tip red, glistening with precum. His face was a bright shade of red as you gawked at the sight and wrapped your hand around the thick base, inching yourself closer so you could drag his girthy tip through your slit, parting your folds as it made its way down and positioned against your wet entrance.

You slowly sink onto the head of his length, taking him inch by inch. Your eyes broaden in a mixture of euphoria and pain. Taking a moment to get used to his size before continuing to sink your hips down.

His large hands hold your hips, watching you lower yourself as he is engulfed around your warm walls. “Jesus, you feel so fucking good. Y-you don't understand how long I've wanted this, baby.”

You leaned in, connecting your lips with his for another kiss, teasingly distracting him with your tongue slipping past his as you lift your hips and drop back down.

Eddie’s head fell back in pleasure, and his mouth opened widely as a mixture of moans and wet slapping skin fills the room.

You lean back slightly, hands gripping his soft, hairy thighs as you build up speed and tempo with the more comfortable you became till you were practically bouncing on his twitching cock. Continuously striking your a-spot, pushing on your bladder, making the familiar fire creep closer.

“Such’a good boy. This cock is all mine, all fucking mine from now on.” You speak breathily, mind in a dirty haze before quickly being snapped out of it as Eddie squeezes the fat of your perfect ass, loving and encouraging this controlling and dominant side to you.

Your tits bounce, eyes flutter shut, jaw lowering with soft moans escaping your open mouth, looking like a fucking goddess out of his dreams.

“Come on, baby, cum all over your cock.”

Those words were all you needed to hear in your ear, pushing you over the edge into euphoria. Body tingling, pelvic floor muscles contracting strongly, while you clench around his length and continue to ride him to his orgasm.

Post-orgasm high lingered for the both of you, the room smelling of sex and pleasure. The two of you cuddled under the covers as you glanced up at Eddie, his bangs sticking to his forehead, face red as fuck, making you grin widely and nuzzle closer into his side.

“I can’t believe the prettiest girl in all of Hawkins is a pervert who listens to me jack off.” He taunts you with a cheeky smile, making you roll your eyes playfully. “In your dreams, Munson.”

He chuckles lightly and wraps his strong arms around your stomach, pulling you in closer, “just admit it, you like listening to me jerk off.”

“Well, I’d much rather watch you jerk off than be forced to listen behind a wall.”

“Ohhh, so you're a peeping tom?”

You nudge your arm into his ribcage, hearing him pretend to gasp in pain as you lay your head on his chest and nestle into his side, feeling his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

Your eyes ogle the thin sheets laying low on his defined hips, nearly exposing his semi-hard cock. His happy trail guides you down, making your mouth begin to water.

“What were you thinking about while touching yourself?” You question, twirling the ends of his thick brown hair.

“Do you really want to know?” Eddie’s voice was low with curiosity as he looked down at you, watching you sit up on your elbow and give an eager nod before he suddenly rolled you over, pinning you down to the mattress, now in complete control.

He leaned in and whispered in your ear sensually, sending chills down your spine.

“I was thinking about all the ways I could make you cum.”

Eddie Munson Smut Taglist: @sunflowerharrington @nevermore-munson @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @rottenstyx @cantthinkofauserlololol @natashamacimoff69 @zestychilli @luna-munson83

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