#but this is what i thought about everything that happened after vol 2 as a general audience | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn’t belong in such a world as nice as this one.

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door.

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does.

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.”

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard.

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.”

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too.

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive.

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks.

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.”

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows.

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats.

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved?

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites.

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again.

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all.

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches.

Summer has never felt so long.

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares?

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful.

You’re completely devastating.

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?”

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to.

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes.

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration.

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him.

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?”

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter.

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest.

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation.

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it.

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin.

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.”

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it.

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven.

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it.

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks.

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’ before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex.

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers.

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him.

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin.

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath.

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.”

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls.

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you.

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more.

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know.

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away.

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive.

He’s milked. Spent.

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think.

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick.

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke.

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces.

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with.

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs.

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning.

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door.

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night.

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood.

God forbid they have coyotes, right?

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

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piglet26 · 4 months

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Reylo Scenes: TROS Part 2

After a failed attempt at killing Rey and Rey slashing Ren's fighter. He's relieved he didn't kill her. She's relieved she didn't kill him. He emerges looking fucking glorious while Rey tried to stop a ship from flying off cause she thinks Chewie is on board. What the hell are they doing putting a mask on him at this point?!

In the novel from Kylo's perspective, "But his impulse to kill Key had almost ruined everything he had been planning..... but his deepest desire, the thing he wanted most (Rey) would require planning and patience."

"It didn't matter what or who was inside that transport that made desperate to prevent it's escape, he was not going to let her have it. He reached out, felt the massive machinery in his mind, yanked it towards himself."

What's interesting in this scene is Kylo Ren is pushing her and Rey ultimately pulls from anger to best him and keep chewing. That's what always been interesting about Rey is she's the Jedi, but often times she fights with anger, fear and aggression. In the novelization it's revealed that over the course of that year she's been hearing voices. It looks pretty and it's a good shot, but I kept thinking didn't we already see this? Force wise... they're pretty even. While it doesn't hit as hard as the tug-o-war in the TLJ it does serve a purpose. Rey is a Palpatine after all.

In the movie, as per usual, this next bit doesn't make any sense. Ren seems stunned and just let's Rey, Finn and Poe run off. In the novel it makes more sense.

"Kylo Ren watched the freighter rise into the sky, Rey inside it. She had beaten him again (she thought she killed her friend not really a win but you're emo) and yet, he was filled with triumph. He'd been right to push her. She had just demonstrated unbelievable, mind blowing power. Dark power. Sith Power. The scavenger was almost ready to turn. And when she did, they would both kill their light, embrace their darkness, then the star destroyer fleet and the Sith throne would be theirs."

Kylo Ren is a Reylo and is trying to make power couple goals happen and we have to appreciate that.

This is concept art from "The Rise of Skywalker" notice how their costumes mirror each other.

The chemistry between Rey and Kylo is electric whenever they share the same space, so much so that sometimes it feels like we, the audience, are intruding on a private moment between the two.

On board Ochi's ship Rey confesses she has sex dreams about Kylo Ren. Let's be honest they both do and she confesses she's had visions of her and Kylo Ren on top the Sith throne.

Next scene is them in Kijimi. Ren is looking for his future Queen who is trying to find the sithway finder or whatever. Arriving in his pretty cool ship.

In the novel per Zorii, "As the black clad man approached the squads officer snap to attention, "Supreme leader".... the man standing below with his gang od butchers was Kylo Ren himself.....The supreme leader said his voice was tight and calm, but Zorii got the feeling he was barely containing his rage. He looked around almost as if he were sniffing the air. "We have a perimeter around the city." The lieutenant began, but Kylo Ren cut him off, "We're too late, the scavenger is gone." Zorri goes onto describe Kylo Ren having a moment whipping his lightsaber out and going beast mode.

In the movie through the force it's implied that that's how Rey knows Chewie is onboard Ren's destroyer, but in the novel it's different. He interrogated Chewie forcefully (wink wink ha ha ha) to get information on Rey. Rey was able to link mind with Kylo Ren and that's how she knew Chewie was onboard. They should've shown them linking minds more.

Then Rey was in his room, or excuse me, private quarters. Anyone else surprised his room was so white and pretty, if no impersonal. Where's his bed? I saw it in the first movie I think.

"Rey. Wherever you are, you are hard to find."

I'm wondering if at this point that can connect to one another more voluntarily. Rey is always swinging first. Like always. This scene can only really be described as exposition scenes, but there is a nice aspect to it. It's nice to see what they see from one another's viewpoint when they force bond. They just see each other. The dyad is increasing in power, not only can they now touch through the force, they can fight and their spaces even blend. They were together and yet separate. Kylo Ren also seems to be very excited his girl is in quarters and wants to lock down that ship.

In their next scene, again, Kylo tells her the plot of The Rise of Skywalker while wearing that damn mask. I have questions when did Kylo Ren find out they were a dyad?! Why were denied this scene? Obviously they instinctually know they are connected, they just never knew the word to put to it, but were is the exact scene? The thing about Kylo Ren is he uses information to twist it like a knife. He's going to use the truth that they are Dyad, that she is a Palpatine and ultimately the attraction she feels for him to seduce her to the dark side. From Rey's perspective, "He extended his black gloved hand to her, she looked at it, remembered. The last time he extended a hand had been in the wreckage of Snoke's throne room. Their combined power had defeated him. It was true. That together they could do such incredible things. Suddenly, she sensed a weight at her back and along with it... Finn. His presence a bright beacon of light piercing the dark." Ren pulling some MJ Smooth Criminal moves there.

After Rey flees with her crew, in the novel it's gives Kylo Ren's reaction. Her surveys the damage left from The Falcon's engine wash. "Kylo considered it a small price to pay to encounter Rey again. To provoke her into a rage. To say the word Dyad and watch the truth of it wash over her lovely face......he hardly paid attention, he kept seeing her face. The way her lips had parted with surprise. The way her body had canted (leaned) toward him. If the Millennial falcon hadn't appeared she might have come to him. Taken his hand. Kylo really hated that ship.... he'd been so very close, but now she knew the truth. She would accept it."

Yeah, they're horny. It's the first time Kylo described her in such detail and really let us as the reader or audience know..... he wants power, but he wants Rey more. If Ren had the world in his hand it wouldn't mean as much without Rey. This is the first scene in the movie where Rey acknowledges how much she wants to be with him. Interesting, Finn again is really her solid base on the good side of the force.

Side note: Dark Rey is hot.

The lightsaber fight onboard the death star wreckage. I've heard criticism that this fight while beautiful is pointless. I disagree. It's actually a scene that pushes them forward. Rey said, "give it to me" and Ren giving this shudder like he just came in his pants. hmmhmm! Ren likes feral, passionate Rey. He's pushing her and pushing her when she's already at the edge. Interesting enough, Ben can take whatever Rey has to give. All the anger and the fury she's had to hide from everyone else she can express to him. The fight is really about their likeness and yet difference, their passion, how Rey has grown in her lightsaber fighting and fixing the end of The Force Awakens. Ren is fighting at full force capacity, he's not injured and he's not emotional.

The way he is in love

“He sent the thought directly into her mind: I know you. No one does, she shot back. But I do.” WHY WASN'T THIS IN THE MOVIE?!

They fight until Rey is exhausted and when it looks like Kylo Ren might strike the killing blow, Leia reaches out through the force before she passes. In a fit of rage Rey stabs Kylo Ren, but snaps out of it when she feels Leia's passing. She begins to heal the wound she created.

How did she heal? Oh, you know those books she had in the beginning of the movie? Those book were the sacred Jedi text from Acht-to. She smuggled them onboard the falcon. So they never were actually set fire. Turns out Yoda that they actually were useful.

Rey showing him compassion, healing him, believing in him almost doggedly is so empowering for Ben Solo to return. His parents might be gone, but he still has someone to return home to. This movie has flawed writing but sometimes almost accidentally that land on something that works. The line where she admits she wanted to take his hand is a great line. It's declaration of love for Ben, not a rejection of Kylo Ren. It's her saying, "I didn't reject you. I wanted the best version of you"

After the unconditional love offered by both parents and the selfless, sacrificial love offered by Rey...... Kylo Ren becomes Ben Solo again. We just don't see him for the next 20 minutes as Rey processes her identity crisis and then goes off to fight to Palpatine..... without a plan.

There's also something purely adolescent about Reylo. Even in TLJ, these two throw themselves into one another. Like Rey having a vision of their future together so she goes alone to an enemy ship based purely on belief in him. Now we have Ben Solo, in a moment of pure adolescent "I gotta get to my girl" just needs to be with her on exegol as she faces down Palpatine.

From Adam Driver, "and the thing that we started with for "Who is Ben, then? There's no ambiguity about what it is that he has to do. There's no more seesaw that's happening. For the first time, someone who has never had the answer now finally knows his purpose or destiny. But I don't know that he entirely is sure of what's going to happen from there, nor do I think he cares. I think it's so long as he is with her, he's on the right path. " Adam driver is a Reylo.

Ben solo is back and he's glorious. He's likeable, charismatic, he's funny and he shoots backwards like his dad. People appreciated Adam Driver in an all new way with these scenes. He doesn't say a word except "oh, but you know he's shifted from Kylo Ren to Ben Solo. His physical acting is so strong. The subtlety showed his talented and not many actors can say that.

It such a beautiful moment when finally Ben Solo and Rey connect instead. In the novel and in the film especially so because she reaches for her connection to Ben right before she's going to kill Palpatine.

He acknowledged her and Rey’s lips parted in surprise. The connection was… right. Good. Like coming home. They wasted a precious moment reveling in this new sharing. This is how it should have been all along. A true dyad.

Rey lowered the lightsaber behind her back, as if readying for a massive blow. She reached for the Force. The effort made tears sting in her eyes. [...] She raised her hand ... which was now empty. She had projected her weapon away. [...] The moment Ben felt the grip of Luke’s lightsaber in his palm, he knew it belonged to him, an extension of his very own self. He raised it slowly, relishing the feel of it. ”

It's a beautiful moment where Rey and now Ben Solo have a redo of The Last Jedi. Rey looks at Ben with such love, joy and relief. Ben looks at Rey with such confidence, determination and love. It's the "Are you with me? "Yes, I'm with" Now with them both in blue light.

Finally Ben Solo and Rey are united. These soulmates separate by so much over the course of two movies are finally as they were suppose to be. Palpatine and Skywalker standing together. What it should have been is act of love, redemption and hope defeating evil. It should have been Ben Solo confronting his demons with the woman he loves and fought to be with. It should have been is Rey belonging; a redeemed Ben was supposed to become her new home and/ fulfill her need for a family. It should have been a power couple fighting evil with the Force.

But no. Somehow the two of them coming together empowered the devil. Their power like a source of life itself. Then Ben Solo is chucked off a cliff after draining their energy. Why? Ben Solo should have faced his grandfather's and father's enemy, or his clone. Palpatine confirms all the voices he's been hearing in his head has been Palpatine. He literally made irrelevant to something he is very relevant to.

They fail together, but she succeeds alone after the spirits of the Jedi aiding her?! I hate all this. Then she dies after her energy being drained, or she clutches the lightsaber too hard, I'm not sure it's not described. It's annoying. Ben drags himself up broken ribs and all to get to Rey. He crawls to her when he realizes she's passed. It's a horrible moment where you feel how alone Ben feels.

"He could see her now, collapsed on the floor, and the pain in his chest was suddenly so much worse than that of a couple broken ribs."

Ben initially mourns her until he realizes there might be a chance to save. He heals her like she healed him. Oh also none of the films go into the fact that because of their bond they were able to learn the force, including fighting moves, from one another. "Ben poured everything into her. He found reservoirs he didn’t even know he had. He gave her his whole self"

Then Rey finally takes his hand! She's back! Ben is so relieve that she's there. In the novel, "She was glad to see him. Glad to be with him in this moment. It was the greatest gift she could have given him. His heart was full as Rey reached for his face, let her fingers linger against his cheek. And then, wonder of wonders, she leaned forward and kissed him."

Reylos! We finally get our kiss, they smile at one another, look they're so happy! Probably the happiest they've ever been. A celebration!

Anddddddd he's gone. Seriously. Rey mourns him in the novel like we never see her do in the film. "The girl who had felt alone for all those years on Jakku had been part of a dyad the whole time. And just when she'd discovered that precious connection, that incredible oneness, it was ripped away. A voice came to her through the Force, clear and strong. I will always be with you, Ben said."

It's tragic because there's so much to Ben Solo we just don't see as an audience after 3 films!!!!!! He doesn't have any lines.

This movie was edited until literally the week before the films release. The recall of the artbook, the last-minute editing, Adam Driver recording new dialogue in his closet..... I'm wondering if the original idea for TROS Reylo was, well, this. We know from the editor, they didn't know for sure if they wanted them to kiss until post-production. Much of the movie wasn't decided until post-production.

And then we get to the ending. Rey Skywalker. How are you not Rey Solo after the man you felt kinship with and the man you were in love with?! Like da fuq?!

Moving forward to this Rey 2025 movie. I'd like it to do well. I hope it does well. It probably won't unless Ben Solo returns. Reylo might be controversial (whatever) but it's currently one of the biggest draws this franchise has. Kylo Ren/Ben Solo is the most popular character out of the sequel trilogy. We deserve it and I'd pay to see it.

sigh the ending we should have gotten

This post took me like 4 days

#reylo #ben solo #star wars #finnrey #kylo ren #kylo x rey #rey skywalker #rey star wars #tros #star wars fanart #star wars reylo #kylo ren star wars #sequel trilogy #rey

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therainscene · 1 year

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I’m obsessed with @wheelersboy’s theory that Mike thinks Will is in love with El. It’s one of those takes that’s so simple, yet so perfectly explains every odd little detail you couldn’t quite account for before, that you know you’re on to a winner.

I always thought it was bizarre that the Willel reunion at NINA was framed in blatant love triangle imagery:

If this was supposed to be yet another reminder that the sad widdle gay boy has fee-fees for his best friend, we’d expect him to be gazing at Mike or otherwise looking conflicted at both of them. But he isn’t. His steady, adoring gaze is for El only. Yes, he loves her, but that love is strictly fraternal, so why the romance symbolism?

Is it straight-bait? This scene comes after his thinly-veiled love confession to Mike (in the same episode, no less), and the Duffers and Noah both made a point of confirming that Will was gay in post-vol.2 interviews, so making the audience think that Will is in love with El clearly wasn’t the intention here.

The Willel romance-coding isn’t for the audience -- it’s for Mike.

We often joke about Mike being crushed that Will didn’t laugh at his vomit green socks, but follow Will’s gaze -- it’s a little hard to see in the still image, but he’s staring at El, checking to see if she’s going to heed his advice. Mike's discomfort isn’t because he’s upset that Will didn’t like his joke, it’s because he doesn’t understand the weird tension between these two and is frustrated that his attempt to lighten the mood didn’t dispel it.

Mike’s smart enough to correctly connect the dots by the time Will starts sobbing in the van though: Will is destroying himself in his efforts to be supportive of the relationship between his best friend and the person he’s in love with.

But heteronormativity and a severe inferiority complex lead him to draw the wrong conclusion -- he thinks he’s the best friend and El is the one Will’s in love with, and that gets confirmed in his mind when he catches them making goo-goo eyes at each other at NINA.

And not once, after figuring it out, does he get jealous about it -- he guides El into Will’s arms at NINA, he looks conflicted as hell during the “I love you” monologue as Will hovers over his shoulder -- he just wants them to be happy and is prepared to put his own feelings aside to make it happen, even though it would hurt him terribly to do so. Exactly the same fucking thing Will is doing. It’s utterly farcical. I love this theory so much.

I’d like to springboard off this by taking a look at what it implies about S5.

Between Will’s history with Vecna and the Wonder Twins foreshadowing--

--it’s looking pretty likely that Will and El are going to be spending a significant amount of time together next season.

So we can already see that conditions are perfect for Mike to go through a similar arc as Will did in S4: being a third wheel between his best friend and the person he’s in love with and feeling like he can never truly be more than a third wheel, leading him to sacrifice himself in an effort to support what he thinks they have together.

Mike is very much at risk of doing something stupidly self-harming in S5 -- this is the same kid who jumped off a cliff to protect Dustin’s baby teeth, after all. He feels like he has no value if he isn’t needed by Superman. And there’s a goddamn mind-reading despair demon stalking his friend group.

Of course, it’ll all work out in the end. He’ll be saved at the last moment, the truth will be tearfully revealed, and we’ll finally get that big, dramatic, affirming kiss for our OTP.

You might have noticed that everything I’ve said in this analysis so far is consistent with either Byler or Milevn being endgame.

Many Milevns and GA members don’t just believe that Milevn will triumph over Byler -- they believe there isn’t any conflict between Milevn and Byler in the first place. The lack of evidence that Mike isn’t into boys is meaningless to the heteronormative mindset -- he’s the protagonist and dating a girl, therefore he’s straight, therefore Will’s hopes are dead in the water, therefore Mike has no romantic dilemma to solve.

By introducing a misunderstanding in which Mike imagines that his best friend is competing for his girlfriend -- couching his dilemma in relatable heterosexual terms -- the audience will be forced to accept that Mike is experiencing a distressing internal conflict involving Will and romance that won’t be resolved until the queer truth comes out.

The GA felt bad for Will in S4 because they assumed there was nothing he could do about it, but they’ll be tearing their hair out with frustration at Mike in S5 -- “you’re wrongly assuming he’s straight, you idiot! Just talk to him and this will all be cleared up!!”

It would be an absolutely genius way of getting the audience to question heteronormativity without them even realizing they’re questioning heteronormativity.

Once Mike’s queerness is revealed, the parallels between his arc and Will’s will suddenly become clear, and the audience will realize that, despite his straight-passing invisibility, Mike was just the other side of the same gay coin Will was on all along.

[Part 2]

#stranger things #willelmike #byler #willel #elmike #mike wheeler #will byers #el hopper #my analysis

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vrisrezis · 11 months

Note

Just the progression of rocket and y/ns relationshio throughout the movies? Like their relationship in vol1, 2, infinity war, endgame, holiday special maybe? and then vol 3?

Vol 1 :

You and rocket aren’t the closest automatically, I imagine rocket being very sarcastic towards you as he normally is with everyone else. I imagine rocket would find you attractive right away though, and would not shy away from nicknames like doll. He’d do it in a teasing way though, to not make it the most noticeable that he’s perhaps interested in you. However if you are like him and happen to be animalistic, he is noticeably a little different in terms of his sarcasm and he’s more likely to grow a soft spot for you quickly. However, you form a close bond after you comfort him in his drunken state, when he calls himself a monster. You have no reason to be so kind to him, after everything he’s done since the two of you met, so it strikes a cord in him. From on that point he’s noticeably softer and he might even start to gain feelings that are a little deeper than just initial “oh they’re hot” his feelings only growing deeper when you comfort him when he thought he lost groot. Again, doing something out of kindness when you don’t have to.

Vol 2 :

The two of you are close friends at this point, you’ve helped him raise groot. All of them had, but you especially. Nowadays, you often talk to him while he’s tinkering with random things. You become mad at him for stealing batteries, which leads to you joining quill and the others on his dad journey. You two separate for the first time since knowing eachother, and rocket is left to self reflect on himself (thanks to yondu). He’s able to realize he’s been pushing people away or acting like he doesn’t care for them, he even does so with you. Yondu tells him, if he really loves you, he should show it. I imagine he stopped acting like he didn’t care for groot after watching him almost die, so I imagine that when he sees you again, after that point no longer pretends he doesn’t care for you. He ends up confessing he cares for you deeply, and while his confession is obviously romantic, you take it as platonic. He does this right before you try to save quill, and you’re still persistent even after his confession, so he’s forced to tase you. After that though, the two of you do finally make up and he properly apologizes to you.

I am groot:

The two of you have an unspoken relationship. You two are very much like parents to groot at this point, and groot makes this very aware to the both of you. You don’t think much of it, as it makes sense since you’ve helped rocket so much in taking care of groot. However there seems to be an unspoken tension that gets even stronger because of what he’s told you both, called you both. Rocket is not only more aware of his feelings, he’s more aware that groot knows. Rocket knows he should do something about his feelings, but he stays silent.

Infinity war:

While he is once again sad to see the two of you separate again, it’s for the fate of the universe. You decide to stay with the morons in order to keep them safe, and rocket understands. It’s in your nature to be selfless and that you’d want to keep your family safe. Also, the fact rocket and groot are gonna be with the god of thunder certainly helps you feel more secure in the fact he and groot will be fine. Rocket casually demands a hug goodbye from you, growing more comfortable at this point for his feelings towards you without saying anything outright. Your relationship always seemed very friendly, but this time it feels more intimate and romantic, despite the fact neither of you have made your feelings aware to one another.

Endgame:

The two of you find solace in one another after the loss of your family. You end up dating over the course of the 5 years you two spent on earth together. After all the grief and pain, it’s something rocket simply could not keep to himself anymore. Especially since, he truly wants you to know he loves and cares for you, deeply. He thought for a moment you were gone too, before you came to earth along with nebula and Tony. He has made the effort since then for you to realize how much he cares. The two of you seperate, you deciding to help Tony, Steve, and others go back in time. Rocket bids you farewell, giving you a nice hug and a kiss. You two reunite after all is said and done, happy to see one another in one piece, as well as your family.

Holiday special:

Your relationship is a newfound development by the other guardians at this point, but mantis still manages to find you two adorable whilst everyone else is kinda offput by it at the moment. Not in a bad way, it’s just kinda new to them. You spend a lot of your time together this day, and eventually helping mantis set up Christmas for Peter. You gave eachother special gifts to one another, you granted him a special weapon designed by the people of wakanda, a weapon that can turn into any weapon at will. And what he got you? A necklace you loved that he broke… forever ago. He’s very embarrassed about his gift in comparison to yours, but you were still happy with it. Oh, and Peter was in a funny mood that day, so he even set up a mistletoe for you two to kiss under.

Vol 3.

Since you spend most of it praying your beloved isn’t dead, you don’t exactly interact with him specifically … very much. You go through hell and back just to make sure he comes alive okay, and he does. You embrace eachother the second you see eachother again, a very different embrace than any other hug you two gave one another. A mutual agreement that you’re both glad rockets alive. You fight together (albeit you’re a little protective of him), and after everything’s said and done, rocket is the captain. You’re still by his side, but now you’re following orders. In the past you would’ve made fun of him for suggesting he was captain, but now, it just feels right.

#rocket the raccoon x reader #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket racoon x reader #rocket x reader #mcu x y/n #mcu x you #mcu x reader #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #marvel x reader

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hollybell51 · 10 months

Text

It's ok - two

Navigation

Part one

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 7.5K

Summary: you and Adam deal with the aftermath of the pollen debacle

Content: referenced sex pollen and associated dubcon, SMUT, agan maybe a bit of perviness, Adam being down bad, reader being down bad, blowjobs, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's not technically a virgin any more but still kinda is, reader definitely isn't, bit of angst, with a happy ending, getting together, fluff, light dirty talk, praise kink, light body worship, subby Adam, again potential ooc

Notes: this is part 2 so you gotta read part 1 for it to make sense. I hope I fixed the numerous moral issues with part 1's ending lmao also before you come at me for the shower stuff; I'm so white I'm practically reflective, so I do apologise to all my textured-hair girlies for my crimes against you with that... I hope praise kink Adam who loves tits makes up for it. enjoy.

Oh yeah, this is also on my AO3

You woke slowly, swimming up against the gravity of sleep as though it were mud. Your whole body was tingling with a pleasant warmth and heaviness, underpinned by something that wasn’t quite unease, or discomfort, but close enough. A shiver ran down your spine, and you pulled the blanket closer around your neck. Hold on. Blanket?

You shot upright, cursing as the cool air of the ship’s interior hit your bare skin. Of course. You vaguely remembered the sudden flush of heat that had overcome you, your suit constricting like it was being shrink wrapped to your skin, the incessant throbbing low in your stomach and then between your legs. Everything after that was foggy, as though you were watching a film with a hazy filter, shot through a curtain of water. But you could definitely see Adam’s concerned face close to your own, feel the echo of his hand on your back and on your forehead. And, well, everywhere else.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he’d asked, as if you hadn’t been dreaming about that for months. Hell, you’d been imagining that exact eventuality as you’d frantically gotten yourself off on the floor of the shower.

Now, you wondered if he was ever going to look at you the same way. It had been quick, hard and rough and you felt bad now for how little thought you’d spared him. You weren’t even really thinking at all, your mind offered. He seemed ok. He came, didn’t he? You felt your cheeks heat at the memory, fuzzy as it was, of his face buried in the crook of your neck, hips jutting up against yours, strong arms wrapped around your waist and your name on his lips. It was better than anything your imagination had ever cooked up, and you were probably racking up some truly awful karma by stowing it away.

You sighed, pushing yourself off the bed and running a hand through your (mostly) dry hair, fingers catching in the mess of tangles. You were never going to skim information on anything ever again. Actually, screw that, you were never going to go outside again. At least without a full suit and helmet, oxygen tank and air filter included.

The blanket trailed behind you like a grotesque bridal train as you headed for the bridge, bare feet slapping faintly on the cool floors. It had felt nice earlier, but now you wished you’d kept track of your clothes. You’d left your underwear in the shower, hadn’t you? What had happened to your suit?

The ship was eerily quiet, the bridge deserted but for a pile you didn’t remember leaving on what had been your seat – still swivelled around to face Adam’s for the sole purpose of being able to watch him read the briefing and notes as you packed.

The pile, as it turned out, was a fresh suit and your underwear, bearing no traces of the frankly ridiculous amount of wetness that had made the walk back so uncomfortable, or shower water. Had he washed them for you? Then dried them, too? Your heart gave a pathetic little jump and twist at the thought. Adam didn’t deserve something like this. Maybe if it had been anyone else you’d have been able to live it down, laugh it off and thank them for the good times, but him? No way in hell.

You’d felt something towards the newest citizen of Knowhere almost as soon as you’d started really talking to him. He was funny once you’d gotten him to lighten up, and had practically jumped at the opportunity to help repair the damage to the planetoid, even if he’d been the one who caused a lot of it. There was so much genuine curiosity and wonder in him, the painfully obvious desire to do well – which you supposed came from the High Evolutionary and the whole Perfect Man thing – and the fact that he seemed to hang on your every word like it was the gospel… Well, you hadn’t stood a chance. It had only gone downhill from there, and before long you’d been wondering what it would be like to see what constituted the perfect man up close and personal. What would the hands that destroyed so much of your home, and then rebuilt it beside you, feel like on your bare skin? Would your arms fit around those broad shoulders as perfectly as you imagined? Would his lips be as soft as they looked?

You supposed you knew some of that now. You fit against him perfectly, like you were made for each other. His hands were painfully gentle, and much softer than you’d thought they’d be. You regretted that you hadn’t kissed him more, and done a better job of it. You cringed at the memory of your teeth clashing against his, not an ounce of coordination or forethought.

He’d been better at it when he’d kissed over your chest, sucked gently at the skin of your breasts. You could see a few faint marks as you did up your suit, far too ill-defined to be called hickeys. Guiltily, you wished you’d gotten him to leave more.

You were jerked out of that line of thought by something rustling onto the floor. A note, scrawled hastily.

“Dear (Y/N),” crossed out, then “To (Y/N),” crossed out again, finally just “(Y/N).”

You smiled stupidly. Who knew indecisiveness could be so endearing?

“I hope you’re ok.”

“Yep,” you whispered in return. “All fine here.”

“Sorry I left. I hope you’re not cold. I didn’t want to wake you up so I didn’t dry your hair.”

God, this man.

“I washed your clothes for you, but I incinerated the other suit. Sorry. It had pollen on it. Don’t worry, I made sure it’s all gone.”

You sighed. “Thank you, Adam.”

“I’ve gone out, but I’ll be back in no more than three hours.” There was time here, too, underlined and in parenthesis. He had about half an hour left. Shit, had you been out that long? Seriously?

The next line started with “I h” but the rest was so heavily crossed out you couldn’t even begin to guess what it said. It was followed by “I hope you’re ok” again, then another bout of heavy censorship before his name. You wondered how he’d originally signed it, but quickly squashed that. Nope.

“Alright,” you said to the note. You felt a bit stupid checking your surroundings as you folded it and placed it in your pocket, but hey, it might come in handy. For reports or future references or… something.

How was he being so goddamn nice? A heavy stone of guilt settled in your stomach, along with the distinct sense that he was doing this because he didn’t know better. He was so eager to please, to do good, that he’d probably just assumed fucking you – letting you fuck him was probably a more apt description, actually – was the natural solution to the pollen problem. And yeah, you’d heard the part about dying if you didn’t (which you thought was ridiculous, frankly, and probably said something about humans and their suitability for anywhere outside Earth) but it still didn’t sit right with you. Not even a little.

Something beeped on the console, the light for the door flashing cheerfully. “He’s back!” it seemed to be saying. “He’s back, he’s back, he’s back!”

“Yeah, alright,” you muttered, flicking it off. “Think of the devil.”

“What devil?”

You jumped. Actually genuinely jumped before you turned towards the voice. “Figure of speech.”

“Oh,” said Adam, boots thudding dully on the floor as he crossed the space. “Did you sleep ok?”

“Yeah. Thanks for… this.” You didn’t know what to do with your hands. Fuck, why were your hands so sweaty? And since when had he looked good good in that damn suit? It was ugly on everyone, no matter how pretty they happened to be without it.

Oblivious to the mini meltdown in your head, as he should be, Adam pulled off his gloves and set them down on his seat with a soft thwump noise. “That’s ok. Sorry I didn’t stay, I didn’t want to disturb you, and then I figured you’d be out for a while, then I thought maybe I should just get it over with since I can…” A pause, a breath, then, “Go out there.”

“Yeah,” you smiled, “it’s fine. I’d have done the same.” Should you mention the note? No, you decided. It was staying tucked away in your pocket forever.

He shrugged, then held up his arms. “I didn’t get any on me, by the way.”

Right, yeah, the pollen. The pollen that had turned you into a goddamn nymphomaniac. You supposed it was going to come up, and better to just bite the bullet, right?

“Adam,” you started, stepping around your chair to face him.

His eyes followed every movement, as if he was memorising the way a person walked. Up close, you could make out a faint bronze tinge to his golden face, most likely from the heat outside. You could have studied it for hours.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. It came out quieter than you’d have liked, huskier and less sure of yourself. You forged on. “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to do anything, and I just… I…” Deep breath, look him in the eyes. “Thank you. For helping me. I know it’s how the whole ‘saving people’ gig usually goes but… you did. So, uh, thanks.”

Maybe it was trite. Maybe it was a poor choice of words, but Adam didn’t seem to think so. Very carefully, as though he were afraid of somehow hurting you, he reached out and took your hand. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch as it had been before (after all, why should it have changed?), and just like it had in the shower, his thumb moved in little circles over the back of your hand.

“It’s alright,” he said, sincere as anyone and only just tinged with something that might have been regret’s cousin. “You didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Yeah, I… yeah.” You couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that escaped you. You didn’t have much of a choice? Carefully, you lifted your gaze from the hypnotic movement of his thumb. It was odd how such a tiny gesture, such a light touch, could suffuse your entire being with such warmth. It wasn’t like the heat from earlier, it was gentle and soft and the fact that you clung so desperately to it probably said more about you than him, but still… “I’m glad it was you, Adam.”

You could have sworn he stood straighter, and that the lines of his shoulders became less harsh. Maybe it was just the smile he was giving you, genuine and sweet, and wow you’d never felt so undeserving of a damn facial expression.

He nodded. “I didn’t realise it could feel like that.” Then, at your frown, “Sex, I mean. I didn’t understand why people liked it so much, but now I think I do.”

Oh. Oh. Right. That bit. Of course you were going to have to talk about that bit too. Looking back, you were pretty sure that you’d have thought absolutely anything was top-notch in the state you were in, and from what you remembered, the actual mechanics of it had been very one-sided. You had, if you were honest, simply fucked yourself on top of him.

But you were not going to say that. Instead, you snorted and let your hand fall from his. “You’ve been having sex with the wrong people, then.” Not that I’m the right one, or anything. But maybe I could have been.

Adam eyed your hand, then shrugged and turned towards the panel. “I hadn’t had sex with anyone before you,” he said as he unclipped his radio and dropped it onto one of the few free spaces.

Woah. Woah, hold on, rewind. He what? That was the first time for him? That? The guilt-stone had become a bloody guilt-boulder, and were you being dramatic or had the ship just wobbled?

“What?”

He turned back towards you, frowning. “I hadn’t done it before. Are you ok?”

“Oh God.”

“What? Is something wrong?” He was back in front of you, hands ghosting over your shoulders and arms as your mind raced. You hadn’t even considered that. Well yeah, you had, in various imagined scenarios and fantasies none of which involved the prospect of your death if you did not have sex with him.

“Yeah, I–” You took a breath, forcing yourself to look at him. How the hell were you going to explain this? Should you? Would it just make it worse? But no, you owed him this at least. “Adam,” you said as gently as you could, “your first time should be with someone you want, because you want to do it with them. It shouldn’t be to save someone’s life, let alone someone who… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry.”

He had a firm grip on your shoulders now, and that damned thumb was giving you the comfort treatment there, too. You wondered if he realised he was doing it. “Don’t be,” he said. “I still liked it. And I did want to do it with you. I know it was only me because there’s no one else here, but I still… I still wanted you.” He paused, then, “I just wish it had been you you.”

Yeah, so did you. But that wasn’t what stuck with you. He’d wanted you. He’d liked it, shit as it had probably been from his end. “You…” You stopped, swallowed. “You wanted me, too?”

He just nodded, searching your face. The tinge of bronze had deepened to copper.

“Oh.”

“I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I think about you a lot. I wondered– wondered what it would be like to kiss you. Touch you, feel you like… like that.”

Again, all you could manage was a soft “oh,” acutely aware of his closeness, how he filled your vision, the temperature of the ship (which seemed to have risen), and his hands through your clothes. “And?”

His breath hitched in his chest, and his voice was low when he answered. “I’d have liked to kiss you, stay with you afterwards. Tell you… Tell you that you’re important to me, and I don’t ever want to see you in pain again.”

You drew your own breath. How could this be happening? This didn’t exist outside your mind. It really shouldn’t even exist in your mind. But you heard yourself speak all the same. “You could. Kiss me, I mean. If you still want to.”

His thumb stilled. “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, moving a fraction of a step closer. “I’d like you to.”

You did not like cliches. You did not like to be trite or banal, but you could have sworn you were living in slow motion as Adam leaned down the few inches between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss so soft it was almost chaste.

You tilted your face towards his before he could pull away, parting your lips ever so slightly, leaning into the warmth at your shoulders. He seemed to get the idea, his hands sliding effortlessly up your neck to cradle your face, fingers caressing your jaw and cheeks, your own hands settling on his wrists. Your heart thudded wildly, and you felt for all the world like a schoolgirl playing truth or dare at a sleepover, a teenager spinning the bottle with the boy you liked sitting across from you, a Guardian of the goddamn Galaxy being touched so gently by the guy you’d ridden six ways into next week not three hours ago.

You pulled back first, but barely. “I didn’t do a very good job of this before, did I?”

“It wasn’t too bad. Not what I expected.” You could feel the words on your skin, your face so close to his that his features were slightly blurred. His breath was warm against your lips.

“Mm,” you sighed, “that’s not usually how it goes.”

“Oh. Ok then.” He dipped back down momentarily, pulling away just as fast. “I like this a lot better.”

“Me too,” you smiled, stretching up to kiss him again. This was firmer, more direct. This time his lips were parted too, and he gave a pleased little hum when you moved against him. You let go of his wrists, mourning the loss of his hands on your face for a moment before you mimicked the position, pulling him closer to you. He was good at this, and you vaguely wondered if it was just the sex part that was new to him. His hands had settled at your waist, holding you steady and he hummed into your mouth, a sound that you could have listened to forever.

“I wanted this for so long, Adam,” you murmured between kisses. “I thought about you too, you know.”

“(Y/N)...” Adam paused, raising a hand to press against your forehead.

You just smiled, pressing into his touch. “It’s all me, don’t worry.”

He nodded, following your lead as your tongue slipped along his lip, a tiny moan caught between his mouth and yours when you slid it alongside his. He tasted like the falsely sweet nutritious bars you never seemed to run out of, warm and smooth and so soft. How could a person’s mouth be that soft? Now you really felt bad for the borderline assault you’d launched on it earlier.

You’d ended up with your hands on his shoulders, half bracing yourself and half mapping out the contours of his upper arms, neck, collar and chest. Your fingers slid easily through his hair where it brushed his neck, dipping occasionally under the high collar. You needed to get someone onto redesigning those.

He was holding you so close you wondered if he was trying to somehow pull you into him, his grip firm and decisive on your hips. Carefully, experimentally, you pushed your pelvis against his, a bolt of heat shooting through you at the hardness already growing there. He cursed, muffled by the fact that his tongue was in your mouth, welcome as anything he was giving you.

“Is this–?” you started, but he cut you off.

“Yes,” he breathed, drawing back enough to look at you. He was really flushed now, lips swollen and so, so pretty, eyes bright with want. “Yes, (Y/N).”

“Are you sure? No lives on the line here.”

He smiled, stroking your hip gently. “I’m sure.”

“Ok.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand and leading him towards the bed you’d woken in, your steps sure and determined. He sat, as he had before, watching you expectantly. You considered simply shedding your clothes and letting him take the lead. Maybe you could sit on his lap and jerk him off, show him how to touch you. Maybe.

“Can I?” you asked as you stood between his legs, fingers toying with the fastenings of his clothes.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Would you like me to?”

Again, “yes.”

You smiled, running your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta help me out.”

“Mhm.” He nodded, kissing your palm before reaching up to peel off the suit, rolling the material smoothly down his arms, his chest, letting it bunch at his hips.

This was not the first time you’d seen him without a shirt. There’d been the aftermath of the face-off with the High Evolutionary, for one, and you definitely remembered stripping him before. A few moments where he or you had entered the other’s space as he’d been pulling a shirt on or a suit up, nothing more than a glimpse of midasian shoulders, the ripple of a smooth back, the hint of a belt of muscle. You’d carefully stowed every inch of gleaming gold in the deepest recesses of your mind.

Now you could touch, too. You bent to kiss him as your fingers curled around the ball of his shoulder, revelling in the little sigh he gave when you dragged your hand down to his sternum. His heart thudded under your palm, and you swore you could feel the warm rush of his blood beneath his skin as you slid your touch sideways, your hand now splayed over his ribs.

He whispered your name as you moved your kisses to his jaw, still soft, gradually trailing down his neck. Goosebumps prickled under your hand when your tongue brushed his skin, the sharp rush of his breath stirring your hair when you sucked ever so lightly at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Lower, over his heart, tiny bronze marks standing out against the smooth gold. You felt the skin of his stomach twitch as your fingers met the waistband of his underwear, and you paused.

“Is this alright?” you asked, craning your neck to look at him.

“Yes.” His eyes were closed, lips parted, cheeks flushed, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen anything so beautiful.

“This?” You slipped your hand under the material, tracing the deep v of his pelvis.

“(Y/N), please–”

Oh wow. The too-tight, too-hot feeling was back, only this time its cause wasn’t sprinkled all over you. He was looking at you like you were an oxygen tank and he was drowning, and how could you ever have said no to that?

“I can’t do it all by myself,” you smiled, pulling at the bunched and folded material circling his waist, “you gonna help out?”

He assured you he was, lifting his hips and kicking his pants down to his ankles. It was then that you both realised he still had his boots on. He cursed softly, apologised, bent to unlace them before your hands on his stopped him. You knew what you were doing now, and exactly where you were going.

“Let me?” you said as you knelt between his legs, your fingers already at work.

“Oh,” he whispered as he watched you. “(Y/N), you don’t have to do that.”

“I want to,” you replied simply. “I wanna take care of you, Adam. Can I?”

“Yes.” It was a sigh, and his eyes when you met them were so full of what could only be described as awe that you wondered if he’d actually heard you. You ran your hands up his muscular thighs, wriggling closer to the edge of the bed, forcing his legs further apart. You bent, laying a trail of wet, open mouthed kisses across his stomach, marvelling at the smoothness and warmth of his skin, the faint tang of sweat and something else that was distinctly Adam.

“You took care of me,” you whispered as you pulled off his underwear. “I wanna return the favour.”

He was hard, you’d felt – and seen – that much already. What you hadn’t seen, and had failed to even consider in any detail, was that his dick would be – that any dick could be – so damn pretty. It was metallic as the rest of him, ample as you’d felt earlier, flushed copper and fuck you wanted to put it in your mouth right now.

“Is…” He paused, breathing hard. “Is that ok?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly. “Yeah, Adam, you’re perfect. You’re just… You’re perfect.”

He sighed again, this time with something close to relief. “Oh. Ok. That’s… That’s good. Thank you.”

“Can I touch you?” You’d already touched him practically everywhere else, and had done a little earlier, so you didn’t expect that moan that slipped from him.

“Yes, please,” he breathed. “Please, (Y/N), go ahead.”

Go ahead, whispered into your neck before you’d sunk down on that dick. So of course, you spat into your hand and wrapped your fingers around him, moving your hand gently to coat the whole thing in moisture. Adam’s thigh tensed under your free hand, his breath catching in his chest. You watched his face carefully as you found a rhythm, mapping every vein and curve, the swell of the head, the wet slit which you slid your thumb over – making his hips jerk ever so slightly into your grip.

“So beautiful,” you whispered as his hand came to rest on your shoulder. “You’re so perfect, Adam. How’d I get so lucky? What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

Your name was little more than a sharp intake of breath, and you smiled as you continued your movements. His hand slid up to your hair, around the back of your neck, fingers dipping under the collar of your suit. “Your clothes,” he said softly.

“Off?” You paused, relishing in the feel of his hand on you. It had been magnified thousand-fold earlier, every brush of his skin lighting you on fire. This was less severe, though not by much.

“Mhm.”

“Ok.” You turned your head, kissing his hand before it slipped from you as you stood. You were less graceful than Adam was in undressing, and you knew you were no stripper, but his eyes still followed every movement raptly, as though he were memorising every inch of skin you revealed. You kicked your suit aside, stepping back into place between his legs as you cast off your bra.

Adam’s hands were quick to settle on your hips, dipping under the waistband of your underwear. “Do you want help with this, too?”

“Yes,” you smiled as you brought your hands to his hair. You’d vaguely noticed that it was softer than you’d expected, and didn’t catch easily between your fingers, but that he’d seemed to like it when you’d pulled it a little. You could explore that more later, you supposed, too focussed on the way he slid the garment down over your thighs to pool at your feet. He hummed quietly as you continued to card through his hair, fingers stroking his scalp gently.

You followed his movement as he ducked lower, sucking a harsh breath through your teeth when you felt him kiss your hip bone, his tongue warm and silken. He did again, his moan soft moan when your fingers involuntarily tightened in his hair stifled by your pelvis. He was copying you, you realised, giving you a belt of kisses just like you’d done to him. Except he was moving lower now, becoming sloppier, gently sucking every now and then.

“What’re you doing?” you asked softly, frowning down at him.

“I want to taste you,” he murmured, not raising his head. “Want to make you feel good.”

Oh God. This man, you thought for the second time and certainly not the last. You laughed, the growing heat in your gut throbbing indignantly as you pulled him gently away. He pressed his cheek into your hand again as you let it fall from his hair, his brow pinched in confusion.

“Next time,” you told him, “ok?” Then, “And you already made me feel good. You fucked me so good it saved my life. Now it’s my turn, hm?”

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then the confusion cleared and he nodded, turning his head to kiss your wrist. He didn’t break eye contact as you knelt once more, rubbing your hands over his thighs again, up to his hips where you caressed the little belt of copper marks. You matched now. How cute.

You leaned forwards, kissing the spot where his leg met his body. If you turned your head just an inch, your mouth would be on his cock. It was hot to the touch, still wet with your makeshitft lube, still flushed deep bronze, now beaded with precum at the tip.

You looked up, meeting his eyes. “You tell me if you wanna stop, ok?”

“Ok.”

That was all you needed. You licked up the shaft, ignoring the twitch of his hips and the sharp gasp it conjured. He moaned – really moaned – when your lips closed over the head, then again, louder, as you relaxed your mouth and sank down on him. What didn’t fit in your mouth was taken care of by the hand that wasn’t holding his hips down, not that you’d be able to do much if he decided to face fuck you.

“(Y/N),” he panted, “oh my– (Y/N).”

“Good?” you mumbled, though it sounded nothing like the word. He seemed to get the idea.

“Yes, yes it’s– you’re– Oh!”

You’d sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks and sliding your head down as far as you could. You drew back, tongue swirling around the tip of his cock before you did again. And again, and again.

He groaned your name as you sped up, hand moving in tandem with your mouth, hot and heavy against your tongue. His hand had found its way to your hair, not pushing or pulling, just resting on the back of your head as you practically swallowed his dick.

You’d never had a problem giving head. Liked it, sure, if the guy was nice, but you hadn’t loved it, and had never understood people who did. Now, as Adam cursed and whispered your name, all of it liberally punctuated by stilted moans and the occasional whine or grunt, you thought you got it. The idea that it was you doing that to him, you and you alone teasing forth those heady noises and making his body twitch and jerk like that… You could happily get on your knees for him every day of the rest of your life if this was what it was like every time.

You breathed deeply through your nose, the warm, sweet and very Adam smell of him managing somehow to overpower the ever growing mess of spit and a little sweat your hand was sliding through. Maybe with anyone else it would have been gross, but here it only forced your own soft moan before trickling to join the wetness growing between your legs. Earlier, as your mind had cleared, right as Adam had been lifting you off his lap, you’d decided that you never wanted to be aroused ever again. You were very happy that wish hadn’t come true as you squeezed your thighs together, eager for any friction you could get.

You could taste the saltiness of his precum at the back of your throat, feel the throb of his cock on your tongue as you relaxed even further, taking him deeper than you’d tried before. You prayed you weren’t about to make yourself throw up on him.

“(Y/N),” he choked, thumb rubbing tiny circles where it rested in your hair. That was going to be a bitch to untangle.

“Hm?”

“You’re so–” He broke off as you sucked hard, the muscles of his thighs and stomach tensing. “Ah, you’re so beautiful. So soft, you’re so… Oh, (Y/N)--”

You’d sped up at the praise, fuelled by the tiny, restrained thrusts into your mouth and the tightening of his hand in your hair. He was close, you could feel it, and you wanted nothing more than to make him cum in your mouth.

“So much,” he groaned. “It’s so… so much, I–”

You squeezed gently at his thigh, a silent reassurance. He’d cum before – in you, no less – but maybe you should have started with something that you could talk to him through. You could have used your hand and told him that it was ok, that he was doing well, while you kissed him and he made all those beautiful noises against your lips. Hell, you could have gone straight to the ninth yard and let him fill you up again, given him control.

Too late now, you supposed. His cock twitched, hips stuttering, whole body tensing. You squeezed his thigh again, I’ve got you, it’s alright, as he groaned deeply. His chest heaved, head tipped back as he came down your throat, hot and thick and salty. You didn’t stop your movements, hand and mouth working him through his high until there was no more. You pulled back and, after a moment’s hesitation, gently licked away the mess of your own spit coating him.

You sat back on your heels, hand still resting on his shaking leg, and took him in. He shone with more than his usual iridescence, a sheen of sweat clinging to his torso, some pieces of hair sticking to his forehead, face and neck flushed so prettily, breath still coming hard and fast. You’d done that. You’d made him look like that. You were responsible for the pure, raw pleasure painted in every line of his being.

“That was…” He broke off, swallowing hard before opening his eyes. He blinked, looked down at you on the floor, smiled. “That was incredible.”

You smiled back, taking his hands in both your own. “You taste fucking divine,” you whispered as you kissed his knuckles. “And you did so well.”

You couldn’t tell past the orgasm-glow, but you thought he might have blushed. “You’re so… so beautiful, (Y/N),” he repeated. “And so warm, and soft, I–”

Now you were blushing, heat rolling up your neck, over your cheeks. “You’re beautiful,” you said softly as you stood, leaning down to press your lips against his. They immediately parted, tongue sliding beside your own, eager and exploratory. You shivered as his hands came to rest on your hips once more, pulling you closer as he shuffled backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Adam,” you murmured, still bent over him.

He tried to pull you closer still, gently, but still insistent. “What?”

You tried not to laugh at the hint of frustration in his voice. “Bed’s in the way. I can’t get any closer.”

“Yes you can.” He broke away, frowning. “Just sit on me.”

“Sit on you?” You glanced at his lap, back up again, raising your eyebrows. Did you hear that right?

“Yes. Sit on me.” He pulled again, and you were struck suddenly by the realisation that he really didn’t have to ask – or tell – you to do anything. If he wanted you on top of him that badly, he could easily pick you up and place you there without breaking a sweat. Hell, he could throw you across the room if he really got the urge. But he wasn’t forcing you. Even the pressure on your hips was gentle enough that you could have pulled away any time you wanted.

“Ok,” you smiled, steadying yourself on his shoulders as you knelt over his thighs.

“You can relax,” he urged, his hands running down over your hips to your thighs, back up again and over your waist, around to your back. His arms circled you, head bent as he mouthed at your neck. “Don’t have to hold yourself up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” You relaxed your legs, sinking down to rest atop his. He hadn’t stopped the attention he was giving to your neck, nosing your hair aside to kiss under your ear, along the hollow of your jaw, over your jugular, right across the tendons at the base of your throat. You tipped your head back for him, sighing in satisfaction as you ran your hand through his hair. His palms were warm where they pressed into your back, his chest and stomach smooth against your own.

“Closer,” he whispered under your ear, pushing you further up his legs.

You shifted, your stomach backflipping as your pelvis met his. He hummed into your skin, pressing you harder against himself, his cock hard again and hot where it lay between your bodies. His mouth had moved lower, to your breasts, sucking and licking at the sensitive skin just as gently as he’d done to your neck.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” you breathed, rocking your hips.

“Hm, I don’t want to hurt you.”

You smiled at that. “You won’t, I promise. I wanna see this tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and maybe even the day after that, too.”

You felt him nod, and then moaned because yes he was really using his mouth now. His teeth grazed your skin as he sucked a dark mark just below your collar bone, soothing it quickly with his tongue. He looked up at you momentarily for approval, and at your smile, bent again to repeat it. Yep, you were going to be seeing those for a while.

“Adam,” you gasped as he stooped lower, leaving a trail of wet hickeys down the centre of your chest.

“Hm?”

“I know I was kind of – oh – in control last time,” you started, biting your lip as he turned his attention to your breast. “Do you want – fuck, yes – to try being in charge?”

“No,” he said after a pause. He looked up, hand ghosting up your side to stroke a particularly large and dark hickey. “I liked it.”

That wasn’t what you’d been expecting. He was always so happy to go along with whatever everyone else was doing, which you supposed was another side effect of Sovereign upbringing, you’d assumed he might like to take the lead. He seemed to be having an excellent time exploring your body at his leisure.

“Ok then,” you smiled as you ground against him. “Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes.” His breathing was heavy as he nodded. “Please, (Y/N).”

“Ok.” You reached down, taking his cock in your hand. “Ready?”

He broke away from your chest, looking up at you like you’d hung the bloody stars. His hand joined yours as he closed the distance, kissing you softly at first, then with less coordination as you lined him up and sank down, sighing against his lips. His fingers gripped your thigh, tight enough that you wondered if they were leaving marks, a deep groan echoing through the space between you.

“Alright?” you murmured, your voice not half as steady as you’d have liked.

“Alright,” he echoed. He stroked up your leg, under the back of your thigh, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your ass and lifting you. You wondered if he was trying to get you off him for a second, then he was lowering you back onto himself and it clicked.

“Like this?” you asked, rocking your hips over his. God, he fit so perfectly, it was like he’d been made for you, the way his cock stroked every inch of your insides, sliding smoothly with how wet you were. How had you glossed over that the first time?

“Yes, yes,” he sighed. “(Y/N), you’re– yes, like that.”

You wondered if he knew what he was doing to you as you practically whined, steadying yourself against his shoulders just as you had before. His arm was around your waist, holding you close as you lifted and lowered your hips, your chest brushing his with every movement.

His lips had returned to your neck, warm and soft. “Is this good?” he asked as he sucked at the as yet unmarked skin there. “For you?”

Wow, you were ruined for anyone else. “So good, Adam,” you whispered, running your hands over his shoulders, the back of his neck. “You feel so fucking good.”

He groaned deep in his chest, his hips jerking up into yours. And oh if that didn’t turn you on more than you already were. Just your words could have that effect on him. Eight little words and your touch, and he did that. The power was intoxicating.

“What you do to me,” he was saying, guiding your movements. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

“Yeah?” You slid one hand down, trailing over his chest and stomach before finding the mess of heat and slick and sweat where your body met his. Your fingers danced over your clit, a sharp hiss of air between your teeth.

“No idea,” he repeated, the words gliding over your skin like water.

“Fuck,” you moaned, “fuck, Adam. You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

You felt him smile. “Hm?”

“You feel fucking amazing,” you hissed past the steady pleasure-ache of his cock hitting that place deep inside you, your fingers on your clit. It was building with every slap of your hips against his, hot and tight.

“Oh, (Y/N)--”

“Love feeling you fill me up,” you continued. “Dreamed about what it’d be like.”

“What is it like?”

“Like – fuck, Adam – it’s like fucking Heaven, I swear–”

He groaned your name again, desperate and God, you were so close.

“You look like Heaven,” you panted, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling his head back. You searched his face past the pleasure-haze already clouding your vision, dipping down to kiss him hard. It was as messy as the first not-quite-kiss had been, all tongue and breath and your whispered “so fucking pretty” as you licked into his mouth.

“So are you,” he managed, hands kneading at the soft skin of your waist and hips, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

“Love hearing you say my name,” you went on, your fingers working harder and faster. “All those sounds you make, so perfect–”

“(Y/N).” He said it like a prayer, like an incantation, and if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard, you didn’t know what was.

“Gonna make me cum, Adam holy shit–”

He thrust harder up into you, lips fastened to the hollow under your jaw, moving you hard and fast against himself. “Yes, do it, cum on me,” he babbled. “Let me make you feel good.”

That did it. The bomb of pleasure inside you exploded, fizzing out though your legs as you spasmed around him, a desperate cry of his name torn from you. You held him tight, fingers twisting in his hair, half conscious of his own litany of curses and praises and your name repeated throughout as he continued to move your boneless body. He spilled hot inside you, and when you finally regained control of your mind, he was breathing hard against your chest and shoulder.

“Are you alright?” you asked, combing your fingers through his hair.

“Yes,” he nodded. His grip on you had loosened considerably, his hands roaming soothingly up and down your back. “Are you?”

You sighed, then laughed as you drew back. His brow furrowed as you held his face between your hands. “Am I alright?” you echoed incredulously. “Adam, you are amazing.”

The frown deepened. “So… yes?”

“Yes.” You leaned down, pressing your lips to his. This kiss was gentle, slow and thorough, and he smiled at you when you parted. “Will you stay this time?” you asked.

“Yes.” Then, “Can I clean you up again?”

“Yes.” You sighed as he effortlessly shifted you off himself, setting you gently on the bed. You could feel his cum leaking slowly out of you, the air cool against your sweat, his spit still on your skin, and the mess of arousal around your crotch. He wasn’t in any better shape, really, but still he moved with ease and grace towards the doorway, returning in record time with a damp cloth.

Something inside you ached with how gentle he was. Thorough, but he drew away at the slightest hint of discomfort. He’d done this before, you supposed, when you’d been asleep. You remembered him telling you he was going to clean you up, had heard his footsteps retreating, but had dozed off before he’d returned. Still, you’d woken up relatively clean, and there’d been the blanket, too. If it had been anyone else the thought would have made you feel violated, perhaps, but not with him. With him it made your heart melt.

“Let me,” you said softly when he’d finished, taking the cloth and wiping at the mess around his crotch with a clean portion. You tossed the cloth aside when you were done, shuffling backwards, pulling him to lie with you. It took some wriggling, but eventually you settled face to face under the blanket, his arm draped over your ribs, fingers toying with the hair at the back of your head, your own hand splayed over his heart.

“I meant it,” he said softly. “What I said before.”

“Hm?”

“You’re important to me.” Although the bronze had faded from his face, leaving it the shining gold you were used to, his lips were still slightly swollen, his eyes bright. In the dimness of the corner of the room, with the light behind him, he seemed to glow.

“Oh,” you smiled, then sighed as you shifted barely an inch closer “You’re important to me too, Adam.”

He leaned forward over the tiny gap, kissing your lips ever so gently. “Can we… do this again? When we’re back?”

“Yeah. I’d like to.” You paused, taking your turn to kiss him. “I like being with you,” you whispered as you pulled away.

Adam smiled. His hand flattening against your shoulder blades, he pulled you in against his chest. His skin was so warm, and you could hear his heart beating, feel his breathing.

“I like being with you, too.”

Note: I feel like this wasn't quite up to par with what I've written in the past, and I'm genuinely not sure why or how I can fix it. I've re-read both of these like five times now (after finishing them) and have edited them endlessly, but I just can't seem to make them feel right. Anyone else every get that? Either way, hope you guys enjoyed these x

#adam warlock #adam warlock smut #adam warlock x reader #adam warlock x you #mcu #marvel #gotg3 #gotg vol 3 #fanfiction #fanfic #shameless smut #smut

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correctthroam · 4 months

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I read THROAM for the first time in ~5 years. Here's what I have to say.

Volume I: There was so many characters I forgot about when going into the fic. Pete, Jac, Spencers family. I cant believe I forgot them. Pete will always be a fave because everyone hates him and it makes me laugh. The first volume was always my 2nd favorite, I think it still is. overall, the storyline isn't complicated and I like that. Ryan is such an asshole so I dont feel bad for him one bit in any of the fic. Also, I used to say that the bus crash was Brendons fault (I was 13, okay?) But Ryan was just an unstable motherfucker who truly should not be trusted to drive a vehicle of any kind.

Volume II: holy shit. I hate volume two. Not saying the writing is bad but Jesus Christ, Ryan is an asshole. bro literally stalked Brendon after he ran into him at that party like what? I had messaged a friend after finishing volume 2, saying "I'm a really nice person I never wanna make people feel sad, let alone make a whole fictional story about someone being severely depressed and unstable whilst chasing a boy then fucking his bf at the end???" and I think that perfectly sums up how I feel (and always felt) about volume two. other than the fact that I used to say that it was Brendons fault. (I was 13. THIRTEEN) it wasn't his fault. Some parts were, yeah, but it's hard to pinpoint everything that happened on one person. at the end of the day, its a good story I just Hate it (does that make sense) I love it but I hate it? it remains my least favorite purely for the pain it put me through.

Volume III: I love this volume. I always have. Sisky is amazing, we all love Sisky. I will say the iconic song/album references/jokes made me cringe a bit, though. Im not exactly sure what about this fic I always liked so much, I guess you can really see Ryans character growth and finally not be as much as a miserable fuck (he's still unstable dw) Since Ryan is less insufferable, it makes the volume more enjoyable. I like that Spencer and Ryan became friends again, I think it makes the book more enjoyable and tbh I think Spencer rly tied vol 3 together, if he wasn't part of it it would lowk suck. overall, best volume cant wait to host the throam tour where we go to hotel Chelsea then machias.

final thoughts: if I thought throam was 100% good when I was 13, Id say now that I think throam is about 85% good now. (does that make sense pt 2) this fic has sent me back into being 13 and I have been blasting some pretty. odd. (im listening to it rn as im typing this) and listening to this album just makes my life feel more simple. still a solid fic, I think it would be an amazing published book. and I think we can all agree that it would be amazing to see THROAM movies (in our dreams)

Thanks for reading lol

#brendon urie #ryden #the heart rate of a mouse #throam #ryan ross #panic! at the disco #p!atd #patd #pretty. odd.#spencer smith #jon walker

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shellyseashell · 4 months

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2023 FIC REC LIST

I did this last year, and I thought I’d do it again. To close out 2023, here’s a list of some of my favorite fics I’ve read this year. These aren’t everything, just of course the highlights. If the author has a tumblr, I tried to tag them, but if I missed anyone let me know or feel free to tag them yourself!

WILLOW

did i dream (that we were so perfectly entwined) | General | Tanthamore | One Shot | 8.9k

Jade and Kit, from childhood through season one. Jade’s pov.

Our hardest battles are the oaths we keep by @rehizle28 | Mature | Tanthamore | 7/25 | 50.9k

Jade grows up as a Knight of Galladoorn. When Graydon and Kit are engaged, she travels to Tir Asleen as Graydon’s personal guard. Words cannot describe how much I love this. The pining and shenanigans these two get into is so so good. Kit causes problems on purpose and Jade Cannot figure out what the princess’s deal is. King Hastur is perfectly normal and has Totally Good intentions.

be my mirror (my sword and shield) by @onlyshestandsthere | Explicit | Tanthamore | 30/? | 228k

Bone Reaver Jade helps the Crone’s followers bring Kit to the Immemorial City. Quite easily one of the angstiest fics I have ever read. But for all 100k of angst there’s another 100k of fluff and that’s only vaguely an exaggeration. The magic is absolutely horrifying but it feels totally realistic to what we’ve seen in canon. Jade and Kit both need a hug.

if we’d turned a corner (if i had waited) by @sugarfey | Mature | Tanthamore | 5/? | 13.9k

Soccer au! There’s plenty of angst in this one, but it focuses on the healing. I love everything about this fic. Kit and Jade are so dumb as usual and I love the social media bits.

The Flawless Five, Vol. 1: Rise of the Five | Teen | Gen | 2/6 | 11.9k

Superhero au! It’s silly and goofy and so so much fun to read. I’m really liking the mystery so far, and I’m looking forward to how it unfolds.

Triumph of the Wyrm | Mature | Tanthamore | 3/12 | 13.8k

Series still currently in the first book. Kit successfully runs away, and every attempt to rescue Airk fails. Twenty years later, the world is under the rule of the Wyrm. Kit and Jade work in smuggling, unaware what happened to the other. Until, of course, they end up working together on a job. The world is so so horrifying but so well done. Also, Kit is allies with Sarris the Troll.

Let’s take a knife and cut the world in two by @spybrarian | Mature | Tanthamore | One Shot | 7.9k

Exorcist Jade and possessed Kit! Very angsty. The worldbuilding is very very well done and so so horrifying.

these walls come tumbling down by @onlyshestandsthere | Teen | Tanthamore | 4/? | 28.8k

Vet Jade and Perfectly Normal Human Kit. After Jade hits Kit (as a cat) with her car, she takes it upon herself to take care of her. Told in two timelines, one in Kit’s pov before the accident, and one in Jade’s pov after. I have laughed so much reading this I absolutely adore it.

One Night in October | Teen | Tanthamore | 9/9 | 29.k

Slasher fic! Angsty, mysterious, but it has a bittersweet ending.

Sink or Swim | Mature | Tanthamore | 7/7 | 16k

Lifeguard Jade and disaster Kit. Seriously she is so, so dumb and it is so, so funny.

LEGENDBORN

Rescue | General | Gen | 1/1 | 4k

Valec’s point of view of Chapter 42. I love Valec okay.

A Place at the Table | General | Gen | 1/1 | 7k

Legendborn/Merlin cross over. Basically, Arthur is a lot better than in canon and it’s so nice to read after Bloodmarked.

Beach Day Memory Walk by @justbrainrot | Mature | OT3 | 1/1 | 3.5k

Bree takes Sel and Nick on a memory walk during Sel’s birthday. Super cute and fun.

Mother, Merlin | Mature | Gen | 4/? | 13k

Natasia healing Sel after the events of Bloodmarked. Very very angsty, but also very very good. I love how Natasia is written.

Dancing in the moonlight by @nightworldlove | Teen | Willark | One Shot | 3k

William and Lark dance. Uh. In the moonlight. Very cute one shot.

Sometimes Hunting and Running Blur Together… by @ficnoire2 | Explicit | Other | 4/? | 11.9k

Valec backstory and I absolutely adore it

DESCENDANTS

Yeah I’m pretty sure we’ve all probably read most of these but nevertheless

Blessed Art Thou Among Women | Mature | Gen | One Shot | 1.3k

Claudine and the Catholic virtues

Descendants: A Different Tale by @kanzakurawrites | Teen | Gen | 9/? | 17.9k

I think this altered my brain chemistry tbh Mal deserves the best parents

Dark Fire by @dragoneyes618

Yeah just go read these if you like Claudine

Obligatory @isleofdarkness shoutout I am quite literally obsessed with this au

Let Dead Men Lie by @dragoneyes618 | General | One Shot | 2.6k

Everyone takes the blame for killing Frollo. Ben is struggling.

Death threats on Dead Beauty by @panthera-tigris-venenata | Mature | Gen | 2/3 | 2.7k

Listen I think Harry should be this feral all the time

the devil had done for the rest | Teen | Gen | One Shot | 2.5k

Harriet! Harry! Yeah that’s all.

Cursed || Harriet Hook | Teen | One Shot | 10.7k

Any Harriet content makes me insane and this is no different. Harriet backstory.

THE MECHANISMS

love in his own eyes by @nonbinarylowkey | General | Gen & Multi | One Shot | 5k

Arthur’s first night as a father

(im)mortality by @nonbinarylowkey | Teen | Multi | One Shot | 7.7k

Arthur handles Mordred’s “death” in a perfectly normal way. Sometimes I think about this fic and take physic damage.

From The Wastes His Child Came (Bringing Revelations Of All Things) | Teen | Other | 3/3 | 7k

Arthur forgets trans people exist and finds Mordred. I’ve reread this so many times I adore it.

la soleil passe son bras par la fenêtre by @ladydragonkiller | General | Gen | One Shot | 6.4k

Brian falls from the gallows and stops the Battle of Camlann, as he should

Inverse Suspension | General | Gen & Multi | One Shot | 3.4k

Mordred frees Brian, and everything turns out okay

no path past kindred’s stain | Teen | Multi | 3/3 | 9.8k

Pendragon backstories my beloved <3

#hi the amount of times I had to redo this was insane #this took hours lmao #enjoy the fics that is a THREAT #willow 2022 #disney descendants #descendants #the mechanisms #high noon over camelot #hnoc #naia recs fics

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eddieschains · 7 months

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Maximum Security Vol. 2

credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple for the eddie edit 🫶🏽

Vol. 1

Word Count: 1.5k

TW// mentions of murder, brief use of y/n

The morning after is mostly a blur. You were still wrapping your head around everything that had happened just hours before. Getting out of bed was one of the hardest things you’d had to do in months. Harder than giving birth, you’d say. But you had a child to take care of, and now a husband to bail out of jail.

You got Leila changed and dressed for the day, sitting her in her highchair for breakfast while you made a quick phone call to Joyce. You asked her when Hopper’s shift started so that you could be there as soon as he came in.

Hopper had known both you and Eddie nearly your entire lives. For both good reasons, and some bad ones. But he always treated you both like his own children. Maybe it was because Wayne was one of his best friends in high school, or maybe it was because he just wanted you both to feel like you had someplace or someone to call home, since neither of you had that growing up. But, no matter what the circumstance was, he was always there to help and protect both of you.

Joyce told you he should be at the station in about 30 minutes and that he would be expecting you. She gave you her sympathy and told you if you needed anything you and Leila were always welcome at their home.

You hung up the phone, quickly getting dressed and looking somewhat presentable before loading Leila in the car and practically racing to the police station.

You see Hopper pull into the lot just seconds before you do. He clocks you as soon as he gets out of the van, standing and waiting for you as he lights a cigarette.

Putting the car in park, you load Leila into her stroller before walking to meet with Hopper.

“Hey kid.” He pulls you in for a hug, a little longer than his usual. “How you holding up?” He asks, blowing the smoke from his cigarette to the side.

You shake your head, trying not to let the tears that have been brewing all morning fall. “Been better.”

Hop just nods, stomping the cigarette out and leading you into the building. He greets everyone at the door and tells you to wait in his office as he makes you a cup of coffee. You’re sure he can tell you need it by the dark rings around your puffy eyes.

Sitting in his office for what feels like an eternity, all you can do is stare at your sleeping baby. Thinking about how the love of your life could do this to you, to your daughter, even to himself. He was supposed to be bettering himself. Walking down the right path, the path of a wholesome family man. Not the path of attempted murder.

You’re pulled away from your thoughts as you hear the door open, Hopper walking in with two coffee cups, setting one on the table in front of you before plopping down into his chair.

You both sit in silence for a moment, enjoying your fresh cups of coffee and the morning breeze. The slightest moment of peace you’ve been able to get in the last 12 hours.

“How old is she now?” Hopper asks, smiling at Leila.

“6 months.” You smile, combing her hair with your fingers. “It’s been hard… but I know it’ll be worth it one day.”

“It’s worth it now. You’ve got a beautiful baby.”

“And a husband in jail.” You respond, looking back to him. He sighs, a sympathetic look washing over his face.

“So how much is the bail?” You reach down for your purse, rummaging through your wallet. “I brought my checkbook and I know I don’t have much, but I could at least put somewhat of a down payment down if that would work.”

“Oh, sweetheart…” He breathes.

“Or if it’s too much I could look into a bondsman I guess.”

“Uh…”

“I could call my dad. He doesn’t like Eddie but I know he’d rather not have me raise a baby alone.” You continue to ramble, keeping your eyes on your purse as you finally pull out your wallet.

“No, that…” His volume gets a little louder, but you choose to ignore it.

“Or- or Steve! I feel bad asking him for so much but I know he’d help at the drop of a hat and-“

“Y/N!” Hopper shouts, stopping you dead in your tracks. “Eddie’s not getting bailed out.” He softens his voice again.

“Of course he is, that’s why i’m here Hopper.” You scoff.

“He is the prime suspect in a murder, kid.” He softly placed his hand on yours as you shake it away.

“No- no they said- they said he was okay. He got hurt but he was at the hospital and he was going to be okay.” Your chest starts to tighten, as your breathing become shallow.

Hopper takes your hand in his. “Jason died this morning. They tried their best but… he didn’t make it.”

Wait, What? Jason? As in Jason Carver?

“Jason… Jason who?” You ask Hopper, your breathing becoming shallow once again.

“You know which one. Carver.” You scoff, looking away. Sure, they never liked each other but for Eddie to kill him? You would’ve thought it would be the other way around. “What was their… relationship like?” He carefully asks.

You chuckle. Out of all people, Hopper should know the answer to that question. “They hated each other, Hop. You know that. But, I thought we all grew up and moved on…”

“So there wasn’t anything after school? No fights or anything like that?” He questions you further.

“No, no. Nothing like that. Trust me, if Ed would’ve run into him I would’ve been the first person to know.” You respond. “If either of them would’ve gotten hurt, I always thought it would be Eddie. He wouldn’t hurt a fly…”

The only reaction you can let out are a few tears. The information of your husband, the father of your child, being a murderer, becoming all too real at this moment.

“You know… when I first moved into the trailer with him and Wayne, there- there was this stray cat that would roam the park. She didn’t look like she was taken care of very well. But Eddie… Eddie always left food and water out for her. He took her inside when it would rain. He named her Star, cause she would only come out at night. He made her our unofficial child.” You laugh, remembering the way he treated that little kitten, Hopper's eyes soften as he listens to your story. But, you were soon brought back to reality. The tears formed once again as you remembered where Eddie was now. “Where is he? Can I see him?” You ask, wiping the stray tear off of your cheek.

Hopper nods, opening the door and leading you to the few holding cells in the back of the building. He looks at you, silently asking if you’re sure you want to do this, before you send a nod his way. Before he’s able to turn the door handle, you interrupt him.

“Wait.” Hopper stops, looking back at you. “Can I leave Leila with someone out here? I don’t want her to… see him… like that.” He looks back at one of the officers behind you, nodding for him to come over.

“Can you watch the little girl while we go talk to Eddie?” The officer agrees, grabbing hold of the stroller before Hopper ushers you into the holding room.

Walking in, your eyes go straight to Eddie. He’s sitting on the cold metal bench behind the metal bars, his eyes dark and heavy, he’s probably spent most of his time in there crying.

“Baby…” He lifts his head as he hears you walk in. His eyes light up slightly, taking in your presence. “Thank god you’re here baby, i’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for putting you and Leila through this, I- I just wanna go home. Can we go home now?” His voice comes out as a whine, his vocal chords probably tired from all the sobbing he did the previous night.

You fight the tears beginning to form before walking closer to the cell. “What… the fuck. Wha- what the actual fuck is wrong with you, Munson?” Eddie flinches slightly, knowing you only call him by his name when you’re angry. “We were in a good place. Everything was great and then- then you went and- and you… you killed someone, Eddie! And Jason of all people? What were you thinking?” He furrows his brows, and you realize that Hopper hadn’t told him the news yet. “You’re not getting out. Not any time soon. I don't know what the fuck was going through your head but… we can’t help you this time.”

You walk away, heading for the door as you hear Eddie mumble jesus christ, followed by a loud bang from his slapping the metal bars. You turn to look at him. He’s taken a seat on the cold bench, head in his hands as you hear soft cries leave his mouth.

“I love you, Eddie Munson. But you really did it this time.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson series #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #prison!eddie #inmate!eddie

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iwritenarrativesandstuff · 9 months

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Trimax Thoughts Vol. 5 Pt. 3

Here we go again. (Gah I'm so behind sorry guys) More thoughts on Vash's no good, very bad mental health, this time focused on trauma symptoms and his uncharacteristic lack of foresight and planning when it comes to confronting Knives.

[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum Volume 5. Vash is hunched over among the rubble. He is not drawn in extensive detail, being merely eyes, an open mouth, spiky hair and a mass of feather-like projections covering his whole body and culminating in a single large wing protruding from his back. End ID.]

Again, this is going to get a little heavy, and became quite long. You have been warned.

(Sorry, the image of fluffy Vash has very little to do with anything... other than the fact that he is actively having a breakdown in that scene I guess. I just really wanted to include that panel. Lol.)

To start with, at the very beginning of my read of the manga, I commented on how Vash clearly demonstrates some pretty textbook avoidant behaviours. Then I took note later on of Vash's concerning lack of self-regard, resulting in little thought being given to a future for himself after confronting Knives.

Well. It gets worse I'm afraid. 👍

Vash displays enough clear signs of trauma in the manga that I am convinced he actually meets criteria for a PTSD diagnosis (specifically surrounding July). I'm a student in this field, not a professional, but I'm going to loosely run over the trauma symptoms he displays. <-This is important for the point I am trying to make.

Category 1: Intrusive Memories

Flashbacks - Yeah, all throughout Volume 5 as the memories of what happened all come rushing back at once (with Hoppered and Meryl unfortunately caught up in his trauma-induced breakdown. rip you two I am so sorry)

Nightmares - A bit harder to say. There aren't nightmares about July it seems, on account of his having forgotten the event. He dreams about Rem frequently though, it can be assumed, only for her to be wrenched away from him shortly before waking. This was in Volume 1 of Trigun.

Severe Emotional and Physical Reactions to Reminders - Volume 2 of Trigun, shortly before Fifth Moon. Vash freezes in place when he spots the doctor, which clearly triggers some kind of faint recognition and sense of horror. He doesn't notice Knives approaching until he is right in front of him.

Category 2: Avoidance

Of Thinking/Talking About It - Vash notably doesn't actually question anything to do with July, which you would think he would, if he can't remember anything. He just knows that the city was destroyed and Knives was there - up until Fifth Moon, I don't think there was any doubt in his mind that it was Knives who was responsible. After this, he spends two years in hiding, out of fear of himself and a lack of desire to engage with reminders of his past.

Category 3: Negative Changes

Hopelessness - For a guy who wants people to have hope... he doesn't allot much to himself... :(

Memory Problems - The core issue before Vol. 5. Vash had no idea what happened in July. He even blocked out part of Fifth Moon.

Negative Self-Opinion - "I should never have been born." "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry" :(

Difficulty Maintaining Close Relationships - Always leaving people without saying goodbye. Still rarely calls Meryl and Milly by their names. People have to chase after him if they want him around.

Detachment - His go-to when everything gets too much. See the Leonof fight for a good example.

Difficulty Experiencing Positive Emotions - "Ya always smiled all cheerfully, but it was so empty it hurts just lookin' at ya."

Category 4: Physical/Emotional Reactions

Always on Guard - He can't use his real name most of the time. He trains all the time; has to respond quickly to ever-present danger.

Self-Destructive Behaviour - ...it's Vash. :/

Irritability/Angry Outbursts/Aggression - Very much so. Anger is a driving motive and we see this flare up whenever Knives is so much as mentioned. He even gets uncharacteristically short with Meryl when she tries to stop him from confronting him, and Vash does not tend to be very rational or composed in situations where he is genuinely angry. <- I will be coming back to this point.

Overwhelming Guilt or Shame - ...again. It's Vash. :/

Other Complications that can Arise:

Depression (this should go without saying. he's fighting so hard to feel every scrap of fleeting joy he can)

Suicidal Thoughts and Actions (I went over this before. These have cropped up in almost every volume so far and I expect this to get much worse)

Eating Issues (This appears to be Stampede specific, but I thought I'd mention it anyways)

So, uh. I hope this is enough proof. He clearly does have severe trauma, and well, that's not really a surprise, considering what actually happened. Vash inadvertently killed an entire city's worth of people. Absorbed them, even. Deeply traumatic for someone who doesn't want to hurt anyone at all - but this is not the only part of July that was traumatic.

Let's go back to the aggression part of the response - the "fight" aspect that sometimes arises when put in stressful situations that reminds one of their trauma. See, Vash's anger is something we as readers see a lot in the story but that's because we primarily see major scenes where he is pushed to his limits. In all actuality, for those parts in between, he's a chill and friendly guy. Does he get irritated? Quite easily. Does he always have a bit of simmering resentment in him? Sure. But this is not the explosive kind of rage we see when he is confronted with Knives. Usually, Vash is more prone to introspective melancholy or bitterness than violent rage - for as much as we see it, the latter is actually rather uncommon.

So, too, is the way he "confronts" Knives. Vash is typically very in control of himself; he's confident with his skills, clever and adaptable, and generally speaking, very good at planning out his next moves. In a gunfight, for as much as he would prefer not to be wrapped up in it, he is in his element. Even when there is uncertainty, he still eventually takes decisive action. ...except where Knives is concerned.

[ID: Two screenshots from the Trigun manga. The first is from Volume 5 of Maximum. Vash aims his gun with a serious expression and says "I've finally caught up with you... Knives." Knives looks at him, taken aback. The second image is from Volume 2 of Trigun. Vash shouts as he raises his gun rapidly to aim at Knives, blurred with quick vertical lines to make the speed of the motion obvious. His expression is furious. Knives looks at him, part of his face shadowed, again, looking taken aback. End ID.]

...hello? Sir? Why are you just pointing your gun and like. Not doing anything? Like he keeps aiming his gun and then just... holding it there. Even Vash in Stampede fired on Knives' weapons. This guy, for all his rage, hasn't unleashed a single shot unless the situation forced him to. In fact, Vash's entire wording surrounding Knives and how he is going to stop him is also extremely vague. He says things like "settle the score" and "send him to hell", which, to me, initially implied killing him... but Vash has no issue using the word "kill", and he never actually says that about Knives. He says he's going to stop him, but fails to actually specify how. I cannot stress enough that this lack of foresight is actually deeply uncharacteristic of him.

But here's the thing.

[ID: Part of a panel from Trigun Volume 2. Vash's thoughts are set on a white background. They read "We... I... should never have been born." End ID.]

He switches his wording here. The subject of the sentence changes from "we" to "I". Even in his mind, he can't muster that kind of sentiment about his brother. He's angry with Knives, even hates him... but I strongly disbelieve he actually wants him dead. Knives is his brother, man. That still means something to him.

You might be wanting to pause me here and ask why I framed the confronting of Knives as an aggressive response due to trauma, as opposed to just vengeance/retribution for Rem and for July. Yeah, well, there's an interesting contrast to be made here. Look up at the two confrontation images again.

Before July, Vash is level-headed when confronting him; angry, but in control. After July, he is yelling and openly bitter and wrathful. There's even a difference in him looking for information on Knives and his associates. In July, he's just asking around. There's none of the darkness we see in the series proper. By contrast, his mood does a sharp turn after July whenever Knives is so much as mentioned. More than that, there's this, too.

[ID: Knives stands facing Vash so only the back of his head can be seen. His head is next to Vash's gun. Vash looks startled. A speech bubble shows two exclamation points. End ID.]

...Vash is... actually scared here. Knives is approaching him and he's frozen due to the feeling that something sickening happened, even though he's the one holding the gun. July was stressful and terrifying for Vash even before the angel arm went off, and dare I say, already traumatic.

Vash knew two things in that scene, and pretty much only two things:

His arm was transforming uncontrollably, something he had no clue prior to this it could even do.

Knives wanted him to "release" his power, which would "swallow" everything in the place they're in. Clearly Knives intended harm to others with whatever power lay dormant in Vash.

This is already a terrifying situation - body horror on top of the certainty that something horrible is about to happen if he loses control - and it shows. He is visibly panting and struggling with the exertion of trying to suppress it, and Knives is not helping in the slightest by asking him piercing questions like he is, taking advantage of Vash's vulnerability here to make him tip over the edge and somehow admit that it was all a lie and deep down he feels the same as Knives. Now, notably Vash doesn't deny occasionally feeling hatred for humanity - he just tells Knives to "stop it". But Knives, instead, doubles down with his questioning.

This is not the only time in this scene Vash has tried to get Knives to stop. Knives does not stop at Vash's distress. Vash tells him to stop, he doesn't. Vash points his gun at him (again, he doesn't fire), and Knives still does not stop. In a last ditch attempt to reason, Vash somehow psychically transmits the faces and feelings he has towards all the people who were kind to him - you can see some of the residents of July, Ship 3's Luida, Doc, Brad and Jessica, and probably others he's met on his travels. Knives loses it and shoves him on to the ground.

I think Vash was well within his right to take self-defensive action here - and indeed, I really think that's what happened when he fired the angel arm at Knives.

Look, I really like it when intentional mistakes are made and characters have to deal with the consequences, and I think there are scenes in which this can apply to Vash (namely, I can think of more than a few drawbacks to his passivity in early Trimax, and his conflict with Wolfwood holds a lot of complexity on both sides)... but I have to be real honest with you, I don't think this is one of those times. I disbelieve this was a fully conscious choice on Vash's part.

For one, we've established Vash does not actually want Knives dead. Second... I may just be reading into this too much, but again, there's something in the way the eyes are drawn.

[ID: A set of panels from Trigun Maximum Volume 5. Knives is drawn with an intense expression; he looks confident, but there is a "thump" sound. Knives looks down, brows furrowed and sweating, to see the barrel of Vash's angel arm pointed at his chest. In the last panel, a gap between Knives' fingers reveals one of Vash's eyes, blank and devoid of iris or pupil. End ID.]

I'd initially thought the blank eye thing had to do with the release of Vash's power from the angel arm, but that appears to not be the case. It doesn't coincide with the charging of the arm - the arm is active and charged past the point of no return here with Vash's iris and pupil still visible during Fifth Moon, and we see Vash's eyes blank well before the angel arm forms in Volume 5, when he is undergoing intense flashbacks to the destruction of July. Vash's eyes even go blank when his powers are not active at all - again, during the start of his flashbacks.

[ID: A set of screenshots from the Trigun manga. The first is from Trigun Volume 2. Vash's eye, with iris and pupil and a welling tear, can be seen between Knives' fingers, as Knives screams "Destroy them all! Vaaash!". The second is from Trigun Maximum Volume 5, where Vash is hunched over on the ground as his body sprouts feathers and lines appear on his face. He is in clear distress and his eyes are blank. The third is from Maximum Volume 4. Vash screams and throws his head back. A close up of his eye shows it is blank, welling with tears. End ID.]

I am about 80% confident, give or take, that the blank eye thing pertains to Vash's mental state - as in, how mentally present he is versus him being out of control and checked out of reality. He needs to be snapped out of it - thoughts of Meryl and how she needed help, Elendira's intervention... but there was nothing to snap Vash out of his panic and that flood of raw emotion during July. It was a spur of the moment automatic response - the angel arm is a gun, Vash is very confident with a gun to the point its basically instinct, he's being pinned and trapped and something he doesn't understand and can't control is happening to his own body, people might be about to get hurt - he wanted it to stop.

Unfortunately, the worst possible consequences were a direct result of his desperation. Vash's automatic attempt at self-defense took out an entire city and swallowed all the people within it.

I do think that if it was self-defense over an active choice, the outcome would be pretty much the same and doesn't weaken the scene. For one, this would mark pretty much the only time we see Vash act in close to pure self-defense. He has such a disregard for his own safety, it's incredibly heartbreaking to think that the one time he actually did try to defend himself, it resulted in such a horrible tragedy. It might explain why, after remembering bits and pieces from Fifth Moon onwards, he becomes even less compassionate with himself and even more prone to just... taking the pain. Second, the effect is the same as if Vash chose to fire the arm consciously, because due to Vash's terrible sense of self-worth, self-defense is not a reasonable excuse to him - even though it was a traumatic experience for him, even though he would likely understand someone else in his position, he is going to treat himself as though the blame lies solely on him, regardless of the automaticity of the action itself. Vash blames himself and whether or not the reader determines his actions to have been automatic or conscious, he is going to treat himself the same either way. He is going to forever carry that guilt with him no matter what the intent behind the arm's firing initially was.

With the context of July now, I don't think I can believe that his lack of willingness to kill is purely Rem's influence anymore. I think Vash truly, honestly, does not want to harm or kill anyone; his abhorring of (in his eyes) unnecessary violence is genuine. (This does not mean he never gets angry or hates people - we know he can and does!) But it's like there's a middle step between Vash's anger and Vash getting close to lethally pulling the trigger, and that middle step is "stop it".

Stop doing this. Stop hurting people.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

When faced with someone who wants to hurt others, who actively causes harm and won't listen to reason, Vash becomes dangerously hyper-focused. The closer that person is associated to Knives, the less control he has over his own anger, and the more he goes on the warpath. The problem is though, that Vash has made a promise to Rem, sure, but also he really doesn't want to hurt people, but then he also wants it to stop, and when your options are limited, sometimes the fastest and most effective way to make it stop is... to just kill the person. And I strongly believe this is why, in the heat of the moment, his usual calculated actions become less well thought out and almost vague, because... well... he's fighting with conflicting pieces of himself. His morality and his bleeding heart make him want to spare people, but that explosive aggression that is primarily a trauma symptom (!!!) is demanding he take immediate action to just make it stop.

That's really what it boils down to. All that aggression and emotion comes bubbling out of him, because he's just so tired... and because that's... well. Trauma.

(Yes, I will comment later on how Knives' anger is just as much a trauma response, but I'd like to have a little more info on him before I analyze too much on that front. Kind of fascinating how their go-to reaction is anger for the both of them, but put towards wildly different goals. These twins can fit so much mental illness in them.)

#i don't know if this makes sense anymore. just take it lol #anyways you ever feel sad? i definitely felt completely normal and not at all that way when writing this (sarcasm)#trigun #trimax #trigun meta #vash the stampede #trigunbookclub #call me ace detective the way i am ace. and also a detective.#storyrambles

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cerealandchoccymilk · 11 months

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Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapters #00-01

all | next

lets fucking do this

I'm annotating every chapter of trigun, both the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read). Literally just writing down everything I notice about details, version differences, translation notes, etc. and also being gay about the characters. happy pride month

I had other stuff to do today yesterday so I only got through a little bit but pace will pick up tomorrow today (1 volume/week is faster than i thought...)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And there are just so many annotation images so I just put the rest under the cut <3 read my notes boy

[edit: why aren't the images not being side by side like i want them to i hate this. here's the url for my blog page with correct formatting] [edit 2: i guess it's only on desktop, not on mobile. so that's good]

First thing I noticed was the difference in the number of volumes, or the number of chapters in each volume. In my JP copy, volume 1 ends at Chapter #07: Rem, while Overhaul (and I assume every version after the first JP print) ends at #12: River of Life.

Anyways onto the actual images

21st of July - !! didn't notice [that the July incident actually happened in July] during 1st read b/c months are only numbers in Japanese 11 hours after destruction - July incident was 2am

For some reason I thought he was standing this whole time. unneccesary details georg

Estimated age: 24 - Official age for his appearance? dang he's young Appearance - "Place of origin/birth," not "what he looks like" The worst kind of outlaw, and an unrivalled killer. - Added in a later version? (not in my JP copy but the phrase is familiar)

This blank space originally had the Japanese translation for the board.

We see his serious expression already! I don't remember '98 doing so this early on so it's pretty notable to me...

Just thinking about how Vash counted each individual gunshot being fired during all that chaos... dear god.... During my first read/watch I thought it was just silly Rule of Cool protagonist moment but not really. This guy actually has Insane perception, either from being a plant or sheer practice. Or both.

Also immediately after all that, I really love the way the aftermath is shown here. The only things you can hear are the creaks of the light and the crying boy. It really brings out the tension in the atmosphere.

Finally, something other than unneccesary bits! If you look at the flooring under the toy gun, the perspective lines are pointing SW-NE. This corresponds to the flooring on Vash's right, whose right arm is also suspiciously out-of-frame... This is definitely the moment he took the toy gun. I can't express the amount of Holy Shit I felt when I realized this. The detail!!!!! man!!!!!!!!!

There's a little translation error here - it should be something like "Even if he were still alive, he wouldn't be able to move an inch!"

One of my favorite Vash moves with one of my favorite Tumblr heritage posts.

This is not really based on any drawn details, but I think this is the moment that Vash readies the toy gun, puts it in his pocket, and picks up the ketchup. Do Not trust this man when his arm is not visible. Also finger still in gun <3 doing his part blocking one bullet at a time

And here we have Vash's first COOL cool moment!!!!!! cue my homo screaming. goddddddddd im so mentally unwell about him. agh I also absolutely love when Nightow does that thing where he screen-tones a character's skin just because. It pops!! It's unique!! I love it!! I eat it up every time!!!

Here's where I realize that Vash's hair antennae are pointing straight up. I should be on the lookout for when he makes the transition to the M-shaped antennae we know and love.

Also, a little untranslatable joke from the Japanese version. In Japanese, this guy calls out at Vash like "And you, don't provoke him!" except it's written with the kanji for "Hunter" (狩人 karyūdo), with a ruby pronunciation note saying "you" (おまえも omaemo). These kanji/ruby mismatch jokes are never not funny and it's so sad that there's no way to keep them in without doing...this lol

The "I counted!" reveal never fails to get me. holy shit. I love the little boy's expression when he gets his gun back :) You helped!!! and you don't have to have the real deal to be cool as balls!!!

Just lumping this with the previous two because it's a tall image, but another small translation error. Rather than being about doing harm, he's talking about recieving it (～～はゴメンだ is a hard-to-catch phrasing/idiom; it's already been discussed with the translator on a different instance). It should be more like "[...But] nobody likes getting hurt, right?"

THE GIRLIES YIPPEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Not including the dialogue because. y'know. At least they get (accidentally) Bonked by Millie :) get their asses

Here, the order suggestion is made by somebody off-screen, but in the first edition, it was made by the cook himself. (left image annotation says "the storekeeper(cook) is so nice!")

That's it for chapters #00-01! I'm going to keep having Category 5 Autism Events every day aren't I.

It's literally 1:20am as of finishing this post because my computer won't stop crashing. Posting this first thing in the morning tomorrow <3

Also, the Japanese copy of the annotations will be in the reblogs for anyone who wants to see them. The emotions are Rawer and they're phrased way less awkwardly... if you can read them lol

#trigunbookclub #trigun annotation #i guess?#trigun #trigun manga

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nexusnyx · 2 years

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Foolish Lover's Game

SUMMARY: Inside your refuge, few things could reach the bubble you've created. More than a safe haven, the library was an old friend—a place free from any of the worries from the outside world.

Eddie Munson starting to frequent the only place in school where you could be free from any thoughts of him definitely got under your skin, and as much as you'd like to ignore his presence there, that seemed like something he didn't want. The whole thing felt like a challenge from the Universe.

⚠️ Chronic illness, angst, insecurities, mentions of bullying. | 🏷️ Eddie Munson x F!Reader, bookworm reader, post-vol.2, strangers to lovers, fluff, [6.4k]. | 📑 This work was commissioned by the lovely Ollie (@buttybarnes1917 ) and I hope they enjoy every single word of it.

Most of the time, the two of you sat in silence.

A month of it passed by—four whole weeks in which Eddie Munson sat across from you in the almost-hidden table in the library’s corner, the place where you spent most of your years inside this school, and it still sky-rocketed your heart every time he made his way here.

The silent look of request he gave to you before sitting down, always. Big, brown doe eyes, and an apprehensive, shy smile. Without fail, your ribcage rattled, and you nodded for him to take the seat.

It was you who had offered it in the first place.

It started like this: Two months ago, Eddie was a murder suspect.

Then, six weeks ago, he returned to school with his name cleared, his head hanging low, and everything about him toned down.

As someone who observed Eddie from the shadows all these years, it was one of the weirdest sights of your life.

When you thought of him — and you did, more often than anyone would care to know — you thought of sunlight. Your best friend Yue made fun of you for it when they heard the comparison pulled out of you after a few drinks when the two of you had a sleepover during freshman year, laughing until they couldn’t breathe. “Munson? Sunlight? Are you sure we’re talking about the same person, love?” they had asked you.

Others got confused, maybe. Eddie presented himself as a hurricane, but all you needed was to look further, to observe past the times when he was trying to get your attention and see him when he thought no one was looking.

Eddie was genuine.

His eyes also said so much.

Maybe it was a thing of someone else living in the ‘outcast’ window of society, but you could see things as clear as a Summer’s afternoon, much like Eddie saw right through the clicks of false sense of personality of people in high school, and you saw that he was a lot more than a nerd and a “problem”.

So when he returned from the clusterfuck that was the beginning of school year and everything that made Eddie himself was gone, your eyes did a double take. You stood there, frozen in your spot, and wondered what was the point of throwing this poor guy back in this shark’s tank with his name cleared if no one was going to do a damned thing to stop the jocks and the other idiots from throwing him looks, knocking him on his ass in the corridors, and whispering dirty things as he passed by.

It was cruel, almost.

You wanted to say something, do something to tell these people to fuck off, but you remained invisible.

Eddie could make himself smaller, but invisible was something he’d never be.

Hellfire Club received a notification on the week of the murders—shut down.

Two of the boys from the club moved cities.

Thankfully, though, Eddie was not alone.

Around him or by his side, there were always those freshman kids: Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and now Will, and Eleven, who had returned from the town they moved to.

A week after their group returns, Max Mayfield shows up in the school halls as Lucas pushes her wheelchair and talks non-stop about something, and the subject switches from ‘the gang of weirds’ to ‘What Happened to Max?’

High school could go on a competition with Hell and win.

It makes you nauseous to hear what some of your class colleagues have to say about her. As someone who’s lived with chronic illness her entire life, hearing how able bodied people react to someone who’s not what they expect or know how to deal with is disheartening.

And annoying.

You’re pissed off beyond reason the first time you walk inside the library and see him there.

Eddie’s sitting on the floor, hidden behind bookshelves, and the sight knocks you out almost instantly.

If you could run without ending up in the hospital, you would’ve.

Instead, you walk inside and speak with Mrs. D’Arcy, picking the words one by one in hopes of being elusive as you try to discover what the hell is he doing here.

“He’s been coming here since he came back, darling. Says he wants to graduate now more than ever. I’ve had to kick out his friends, though, unfortunately—they don’t know how to keep quiet together. You weren’t here that day.”

Without his friends there, Eddie sticks to the floor.

For days, you walk inside, take a look around and, without fail, find his curly mop of hair somewhere in the ground, hunched over books and what looks like homework. It goes like this for days until someone pretends to trip over him.

That’s when Eddie gets up with all of his things and a permenent pinch in his eyebrows—he looks done, and you realize that must’ve not be the first time someone’s tried to bother him in here. It makes sense that he chooses the floor then and not one of the tables. Most of them are occupied either by group studies or loners like yourself who pick the library over cafeteria and other places, and no one fails at giving him a dirty look as he passes by.

No one, but you.

Eddie almost leaves that day.

He looks sad, angry, and as you stare at his face you can see bags under his eyes as well, which is concerning, but—

his eyes are on you.

You, who sits in the one table for two in the far corner of the library.

You, who’s been coming here all your years of Hawkins High because books are better company than people.

You, who gives him a weak, shaky smile.

And who points to the chair in front of you.

Eddie Munson stares at you, not for the first time in his life, but for the first one that seems to matter. He looks at every inch of you as if expecting a second head to pop out from somewhere screaming ‘I got you, sucker!’ but when he finds nothing, his gaze is back on yours.

Then, he walks to your table in slow steps, and stops there, hovering over you.

He’s taller than you imagined up close. When he still was three years ahead of you and he passed by, there was the excuse of him being older—now, he’s just tall.

“Can I?” he asks, pointing to the chair in front of you.

“Be my guest.”

That’s how it starts.

Tentative, and fragile—Eddie’s whole demeanor is different when he’s not around one of his freshmen group, and he takes out his homework sheets and stuff while stealing furtive glances at you and your chemistry notes.

It takes a few minutes for you two to relax. Your heart’s beating too fast for your liking, but you keep your eyes focused and do your best until you hear the carbon tip of his pencil working against the paper furiously, and you breathe in a steady breath.

It starts with you realizing Eddie smells heavily of tobacco and he keeps the tip of the pencil between his teeth as he thinks.

Sharing a table with him is mostly silence. It’s also torture.

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During the first four weeks, all you two share are greetings.

It's the first week of November and the weather's shifting to its icy, sharp winds, and cold mornings when you break. From the little interactions you’ve had it was quite obvious Eddie would never be the one to speak up first—no one other than his friends spoke to him unless it was for a snarky comment or something meaner, and you were not the most approachable looking person.

A nose buried in books turned you expression unreadable from an early age.

Still—Eddie looks on the verge of crying.

You didn’t even mean to look—you just do.

(You always do. Stealing glances of him became a parte of routine.)

This time, he has one hand buried deep in his hair and the wide, twitchy look in his eye of someone who’s about to strain themselves.

You’ve seen the look on the mirror enough times.

“You’re gonna burst a vein on your forehead if you don’t take a break.”

The words surprise even you.

Both of you freeze—you in disbelief at your mouth for letting slip your thoughts as if you’re in Yue’s presence, and him because you talked.

You stare at each other for a second, and when Eddie lets out an, “Huh?” you feel your shoulders relaxing.

He might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, but he’s still just a person. You breathe in, “You were already here when I arrived today. You switched from your English paper to Chemistry, and you haven’t taken a second of break.” Eddie’s eyes are still wide, and you look away for just a second. He might be ‘just’ a person, but he’s one with the most gorgeous eyes. It’s fucking distracting. “Drink water. Eat something. That sort of thing.”

“You’re…” Eddie drifts there in his sentence. You look up, and he’s trying to close his mouth. “I’m not really the type of person that drinks water,” he says through a square smile.

The way he says ‘water’ makes you tilt your head. One eyebrow lifts up. “You don’t drink water?” you ask, deadpanned.

“Have you ever seen me drinking water?” his shoulders visibly relax too, and he chuckles.

“No.” You’d never seen him do much other than try to rip his hair out with his hands these past weeks. “But you should.”

“Does it really make that much of a difference?” Eddie asks you in a thoughtful tone.

This guy. You scoff, unable to keep a smile from forming. “I don’t know. Let’s see—you have headaches, often. You think it’s the cigarettes, or whatever it is you’re smoking. It’s not. You wake up lightheaded sometimes. Dry eyes, dry mouth,” you hum, looking up at the ceiling and trying to think about what you used to feel before. “You’re stomach’s a bitch often, too. I guess you also think that’s because of—”

“Are you a witch?” he interrupts, leaning across the table with his torso, wide eyes and an even bigger smile. “What the fuck,” he mutters to himself, then laughs as quietly as possible. “What the actual fuck. That’s terrifying!”

Your mouth twitches when you pull your laughter down. “Five out of five?”

Eddie points a finger at you. “That. Was awesome.” He looks around after his raise in his voice at the last word, then turns back to you stage-whispering. “Tell me all your secrets. It’s like you were in my head! Or, well—I’d say it was like you were in the shadows of everywhere I live, but that’s kinda terrifying. And five outta five, indeed. You’ve got a really good memory, huh?” Eddie cocks his head to the side. “I figured you were smart.”

“You figured?”

“I did.” His nod is almost like he’s proud of himself. He straightens up against the chair. “You do your homework only a few days of the week. The others you’re just here reading or drawing in your notebook that you never let me see.”

This time, it’s you who feels the spike of wonder—you know he’s not a witch, but you get his surprise, now.

He’s been paying attention to me, too?

Hoping the heat in your cheeks is not enough to be visible, you narrow your eyes. “You’ve observational.”

Eddie’s chuckle is a bit cocky. “Says the person who noticed I was sucking at English, then switched to suffering at Chemistry.”

He’s got you there.

You close the book you were reading and smile when you notice that Eddie is as good as you in doing something. “Touché. Now—have you at least eaten today?”

When all the glee evaporates from his features, leaving only the surprise behind, you wonder if you’re poking too far. You even falter—maybe Eddie hates people in his business and you’re being too nosy for someone who’s never shared even a few words with him. Before you get too lost in your quicksand of worries, Eddie says, “Uhm—I don’t bring lunch anymore.” He looks down at the table. “Easier than losing it almost daily.”

“Oh.” Anger was so rare to you that it tasted weird. You pushed it down as soon as it came, because it was also useless. Huffing, you grab your satchel bag hanging on the chair. “God, they’re still doing that kindergarten bullshit to you?”

“Throwing my lunch in the trash? Yeah. I mean—I prefer it over me in it, to be honest.”

“Come on,” you say.

Eddie follows you with a, “Go? Where? Uh—should we really leave all of—”

“No one’s gonna steal our textbooks, Eddie,” you laugh at the thought. “And Mrs. D’Arcy has hawk eyes.”

“You’re friends with Mrs. D’Arcy?” Eddie asks, but then lifts his hand up in the air. “Wait—don’t answer that. Of course you are. I’ve seen you with a book for over a week—she gives anyone the side eyes if they’re even a date late and, according to Wheeler, she’s meaner than a fusion of Henderon and Nancy. It’d make sense you’re friends with her. Since when do you come here?”

“Do you always talk this much?” you open the library door’s and look over your shoulder to him.

Eddie smiles at you. “Do you always dodge questions with other questions?”

“I’d say I do it about as often as you.”

Eddie laughs at that. “Jesus Christ. You’re sharp, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what to do with your tone of surprise.” Or with the way your heart was trying to beat out of your chest. “I do live in the library—you’ve been there every day to see it. People who go there tend to a bit more of brain exercises than others.” You turned around in the empty corridor that led to the unused old Laboratories and stopped there, sitting on the floor against the wall. Looking up at Eddie, you offer him a smile. “Sit.”

He takes a second, but sits next to you. Eddie watches as you open your bag and take out two sandwiches, your water bottle, and an apple. You offer him the bottle in silence, place the sandwich on his lap, then start unwrapping yours.

“I meant what I said about the breaks, you know?” you ask him before taking the first bite.

Eddie looks at the sandwich, then you. He stays quiet while you chew, staring at the food in his hands like his mind is trying to keep up with what’s happening and struggling.

Slowly, he starts to unwrap it. “Water and food,” his voice is low. He clears his throat, and the sarcasm is back in his tone when he talks again. “Yeah, I heard it somewhere it’s good for you.”

You roll your eyes and take another bite. “You’re gonna exhaust your brain before finals if you keep it up like this.”

“Well, my darling, not everyone who goes to the library is as good as you in using their heads.” Eddie takes a bite out of the sandwich. It pleases you beyond words to see his eyebrows shooting up.

“If you’re trying to imply you’re stupid, I’m unfortunate enough to sit right behind Henderson and Wheeler in AP Literature and I know for a fact that’s a load of bullshit.”

Eddie hides his laughter behind his hand. “You’re a lot more foul-mouthed than I imagined.”

That’s his third assumption so far. “Do you always create people’s profiles in your head?”

“Not always.” Eddie opens your water bottle and drinks from it without touching it on his lips. He puts it down and takes a deep breath. “It’s sort of an unconscious habit of mine. I do it when there are people I see often enough that they spark a curiosity, y’know? I create their background profiles—I don’t know if that’s weird, or creepy—I don’t mean it to be that way.”

“It’s the writer in you.” You heard enough from Dustin and Mike and their incessant worshipping of Eddie’s abilities as a “Master” to know he was a great story-teller. “I get it,” you nod, taking another bite.

Eddie’s mouth hanging open says you’ve surprised him again.

“What?” you ask, covering your full mouth with your hand. “I told you I sit behind them. They talk about you all the time.”

Color takes over the top of Eddie’s cheeks at that, and he looks down at the floor with a smile that’s as fond as it is awed. He chuckles. “Yeah. Those dummies really like me.”

And it’s a mutual feeling, you think. “Yup.”

Eddie sighs deeply, and takes another bite. He eats it slowly, and when he swallows, he asks, “You really think I’m not stupid even though I’m still here?”

You frown. “The only thing that you still being here tells me is that you’re persistent. And resilient.” You shake your head at him. “I think there are ways to be smart. The highest I’ve ever gotten in English was a B+. And I sweat for that one. You did your English paper in—what, ten minutes?”

“You really pay attention, huh?”

That brings heat to your cheeks. “Shut up. You’re sitting right across from me.”

“Awn, I’m happy! I thought you hated me all this time. Or tolerated me, at best. Your face’s really hard to read.”

“Mine? I’m an open book,” you reply with a blank expression.

Eddie and you stare at each other for a second, then both start laughing.

“The sass and cursing are definitely a surprise, but I like it,” he says once he’s calmed down. Eddie takes another bite, and speaks with his mouth full. “You really think I’m gonna pop a vein?”

“Yes. Your brain’s a muscle, dummy,” you echo his fond, yet teasing pet-name for his friends. “No one practices a sport for two hours without taking a single break for water and stuff. You gotta take it easier.”

Eddie listens to you while nodding and eating. “That makes sense.”

You two finish the sandwiches in silence, sharing the water and the comfort of being alone in a building so full of noise and life.

When the food’s gone, Eddie stretches his leg and looks at you.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You wonder how does he know your name when he’s never asked for it. “Hm?”

“Are you any good in Chemistry?”

You smile.

Eddie Munson asking for your help.

High School truly can feel like the weirdest experience.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜️

In return for your sandwiches, Eddie starts bringing to the library his walkman.

He discovers you listen to a wide variety of music in one of your study breaks — which are a thing now, because Eddie needs routine and if you let him be, he’ll sit and stew with his head buried in text books until he’s blue in the face — and finding out that half of his bands are known to you almost blows his head from his neck.

He asks, “Can music count as break time?” and then, you two are sharing artists like kids share cards in a playground.

Eddie also helps you with your essays, which improve in two weeks under his curated notes.

The quick-thinking and smarts you knew he had are almost… sexy to witness, in some way.

Eddie points to you words that could be replaced, cuts out unecessary parts and the way he breaks down sentences to re-create them in better ways shows you why Dustin and Mike talk about him doing the D&D thing like a movie fanatic talks about their favorite writer.

He has talent in the tip of his fingers.

As the days turn colder, your conversations become warmer.

More real.

Where there were heads buried in books, now there are hushed whispers and exchange of looks.

Eddie asks you how you are every day.

It’s how he notices you’re not okay when the time comes.

“What d’you mean ‘the time always comes’? You sound ominous as fuck—I’m talking Tolkien levels of ominous. Wait—you know Tolkien? He wrote—”

“I know Tolkien, Edward,” you hide the next cough in your inner elbow, then pin him under a look. “Not the only nerd on this table, remember?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at you (a big step up for someone who could barely tease you a couple of weeks ago) and pokes your forearm with his pen. “Can you drop the Mast of Sass and focus on the question?”

“It’s cold, Eddie.” It comes off whiny, and you’re thankful for the harsh winds outside because they could be blamed for your red nose and cheeks instead of the embarassment of how fast you’ve fallen for wanting his attention. Not that different from everyone who starts walking around him, are you? “It’s always harder for me to stay healthy when it’s cold like this. Stupid fucking weather.”

Eddie proves once more he is smart. “Is—uh, is your immune system compromised, or something?”

You rest your cheek against your arm and look up at him with a smile. “Look who’s been studying their biology,” you coo.

Eddie smacks his teeth, then lightly taps his hand on your arm. “My God, you’re worse than them sometimes.” He drops his head on the table too to be on your eye level. “I noticed you never run to catch up with that friend of yours when you two are walking together around school.”

“I’ll end up in a hospital if I do,” you chuckle bitterly. “Yue waits for me, anyway. They always do.”

“Oh.” Eddie’s lips form a pout. “So I was right?”

You nod, then point at your own chest. “Transplant recipient,” you offer as an explanation. “Winter means worst phantom pains, a lot more eating to keep my immune system as good as possible, and that any stupid fucking wind that catches me off guard might—” coughing hurts, you think. What a bitch and divine timing.

Groaning, you wonder if this is going to get worse. You’d hate to end up at a hospital in a time like this.

“Hey—” Eddie’s hand covers your arm. “This library’s cold as fuck and the heating in it sucks. Maybe this isn’t the hottest spot for December afternoon study sessions?” He offers.

“I don’t have the attention span or will to study at my house if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“Maybe not your house, but—” he stops himself. Eddie only bites his lips like that when he’s indecisive about asking something; shy, or insecure, perhaps. “Right,” he nods, like he’s taking a decision. “Uhm—I’ve got two friends of mine who’ve been asking me to join their study sessions, and, frankly, I thought they were only doing it to be nice, but when they gave me their little disappointed sad puppy faces after discovering I already had a really cool study buddy, I learned they actually meant it? So I just thought—why not check if Wheeler and Buckley are still accepting people for their study time? Those two are really good. Like, seriously, you’d love them. They really wanna graduate and get the hell outta Hawkins, and they both go to Wheeler’s house three days of the week, so… maybe I could ask them if they want our company?”

Rambling to cover his anxiety, much like you resort to silence to mask yours.

That’s all he says.

There’s no weird inquiry, no pity in his eyes, nothing different.

You’re unsure of what you thought would happen when Eddie found out, but it still takes a moment to get over the shock and give him a weak nod.

He’s friends with Max Mayfield, you remember. The girl’s probably one of the dozen of people in this school who weren’t able bodied, and you’ve seen Eddie around the corridors with her. Usual amount of teasing, a foot in front of her wheels, and now that those were gone and replaced by the walking stick, you’ve seen him use her stick to playfully threaten her.

Difference fazing him would make no sense—Eddie was different.

He talked to you about the message in the music he liked, and looked at you with hope stored in all the galaxies inside those eyes—hope you’d understand what he meant, hope you’d reserve no judgment over it.

When he noted you cared for him, Eddie talked about being tired.

He asked you what were your thoughts on nightmares and wounds of the soul.

Eddie listened.

Not with only one ear, not the kind of hearing most people did where they absorbed the information only enough to form a retort or have an answer ready, no.

He heard everything you said, and you could see the words dancing around his mind before he answered.

There was thought involved in his replies.

Even in his teasings.

When the study session became a group thing during Winter, Eddie turned himself into a bridge, open and honest.

He made sure you and the girls met and liked each other before confirming you two would be back.

How one Earth you ended up as his ‘study buddy’, the one he considered to be his ‘partner’, that answer was beyond your capacities.

One second Eddie was a presence on the other side of a table, and next, he’s everywhere.

Sunlight.

About that you’d been right—it’s grim and grey outside, but you feel warm, anyway.

Eddie Munson introduces you with, “This is Y/n, my friend,” and there’s warmth spreading all over.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⚜️

Infatuation.

The word that explains why you spent so many days and hours stealing glances of Eddie from afar in the three years he was in classes ahead of yours is infatuation.

The same word also explains why it could’ve never been just friends for you.

Yue called it from the beginning—as soon as Eddie started talking to you every day, sharing his music, his life, his interests, they told you, “just don’t fall in love with the metalhead with a pinch for delinquency who wants to fuck out of town as soon as he graduates, please?”, and you’d laughed it off, said “I won’t.”

If not falling for him was ever an option, you ran past it and never caught a glimpse of it.

Maybe that was why—maybe that’s why the anxiety only takes over when the airs are shifting and words like ‘prom’ are starting to occupy people’s lips; why it stayed quiet and hidden until now, buried in places of your mind where you keep the things you prefer not thinking or talking about.

Of course you’d befriend him just as you’re both about to graduate.

That’s fate—it gives you a test at every twist and turn, and yours comes in the bright, and warm shape of Eddie Munson.

How can you resist the smiles?

The way he asks you things all the time, and starts seeking your nod of approval, or for you to join him in teasing his friends?

Was there even a way of not ending up with your heart bleeding in your hands when Eddie made sure to introduce you to everyone he cared about?

Impossible.

The answer to all of those questions is that—it was impossible.

You learn about his family. His past.

After inviting you to hang out outside of the school’s repressing walls, Eddie blossoms like the spring, and it creates a garden in the cracks of your ribcages. There are traces of Eddie’s presence everywhere, and you only notice when it’s too late.

How ephemerous everything is.

Time drags like a sloth for its most part, but when things are happening and the wheels are turning, when Eddie is cracking jokes with you in the back of his van, or inviting — begging — you to go to Henderson’s house and watch him and all of his friends play their game for the first time in a long time, time blinks.

Then, you’re the one dragging yourself through the days.

Soon, all of this will be gone.

Will he go, too?

Eddie talks about graduation, but very little is spared to what comes afterwards. As he walks you to your house one afternoon, your mind gets lost in the infinite possibilities of what you could be doing this same time next year while Eddie plays music in a pub in a city whose name you never heard of.

“Yo—pssss.”

His psss psss is never directed at cats like they’re supposed to be.

You turn around, a hand on your bike’s handlebars and the other holding your backpack slunger over a shoulder. “Hm?”

Eddie skips to your side. Walking’s normally is not really his thing. “You are veryyy lost in thoughts.”

“No, I’m not,” you quip back defensively. Too defensively.

“Ah, yes, you are,” he laughs at you, not unkindly. “You have been for, like, I don’t know—three or four days now. What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up,” you feel your heart beating faster. Too much is up. Nothing is down. My head makes no sense anymore, Eds.

Eddie stays quiet for a total of three seconds. “I would’ve bought that if I had the deduction and perception skills of a troll, maybe, but—” he points at himself with both hands. “I’m a very smart boy.” His dimpled smile is gorgeous. You’d miss if it went away. “Or, that’s what my friends have been trying to convince me for the past few months, at least.”

Could you tell him? What if he thought it was weird? What if you two were not that type of friends?

“Come on, throw me a crumb, or something. I’m good at riddles,” Eddie says. “You can just throw random words in the air and as long as they’re all clues, I’ll piece it together. I know you’re not a big fan of talking when you’re worried.”

It halts you.

You become still, and Eddie takes a second to realize you stopped walking.

I know you’re not a big fan of talking when you’re worried.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” He looks serious, out of nowhere. He walks closer to you.

“Are we gonna be friends? When… after school. Will we be friends?”

Eddie also stops, standing right in front of you. “Is that what’s been worrying you?” You nod at his question. “Y/n. I literally told the girls you were the only graduation gift I ever needed—I said that. I said those exact words, and you were there,” as he talks, his smile grows, bit by bit. “Listen. I started this year guillable, over-confident, and too idealistic for someone who calls himself cynical. Then, the world literally threw me upside down, made me question everything about—well, everything, and I thought for a hot second I was gonna die.”

Althought the last part is not news to you, it still makes you bite your lips to stop them from quivering.

Eddie takes another step closer to you. “And when I thought everything was the shittiest its ever been, I realized I made a bunch of friends. Realized my uncle’s all the family I needed. And I thought that was it. The end. Great finale. But—” he smiles with a tilted head, and places one hand on your shoulder. “I got another one. This friendship, if I’m being honest, I thought it was a bit out of my league, but as it turns out, she’s the type that hates everybody but me, and I’m all here for it. So—to answer your question. If you even try to get rid of me, you’ll fail.” Eddie sighs deeply. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”

That brings a smile to your face. At least this. Friends is good enough. “It’s mutual.”

Eddie uses the hand on your shoulder to pull you in for a hug then, but both of you seem to notice it’s the first real hug you’ve given.

None of you are used to touching the other too much.

You never did because—it’s Eddie.

What you want to trace the outline of his lips. Touch his tattoos, ask him about each of them, if they have meaning or not. You want to grab his pretty waist—none of that screams ‘behavior that friends do’.

Eddie, on the other hand, was a very touchy person. You imagined him not extending that to you with his usual enthusiasm meant him trying to respect you and your ways, but…

The hug fits like a tailored suit.

Both of you notice at the same time—his arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you in playfully, but when your chests connect and you wrap your arms around his waist, you can feel Eddie’s movement slowing down.

His heartbeat speeding up.

Time being an illusion comes to play all over again. Within three seconds, the atmosphere around you changes.

Your head buries in his chest, arms tightening around his body.

Eddie returns the hug with the same strength. He hugs you tighter, then tighter, and when you nuzzle your head to get as comfortable as possible in the crook of his neck, Eddie buries his in your shoulders as a response.

You two seem to slip into one another like a magical fitted glove, and you’re too frightened to pull back once you’re inside his embrace.

All you want is to stay there.

To your luck, the feeling is mutual.

Eddie, for all his energy and jitterness, becomes peaceful and still as he holds you. His breathing evens, and the only sign of his erratic nature is the crisp sensation of his heart beating hard and fast through his clothes.

You want him, and you use all the times when he’s called you a friend as a saving rope for you to not do anything stupid, but then…

Eddie pulls back just a little, and one of his hands holds the back of your neck.

It steals all of the oxygen from your lungs because—you’ve had a dream like this.

You dreamt about this, and this can’t be real, but it is.

“Y/n?” Eddie sounds scared. His voice is small, and you can feel his breathing short.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you for a favor? As… as a friend.”

As a friend.

“Sure.”

“Can you reject me?”

If your heart was beating before, it stops now.

“What?”

“Reject me,” he repeats, pulling his face back just enough so you can see his sad smile. “That way I can… just focus on being a good friend. If I have my no, my mind doesn’t waste time with stupid what ifs. I—I wanna be a good friend. Like you are.”

Reject me.

Everything is white noise.

You blink once, twice, thrice, and he’s still there.

Looking at you with his doe eyes—chocolate storms, staring straight into your soul, looking aprehensive and filled with fear, waiting—

for rejection.

You huff out a breath that was stuck in your frozen body, and when your soul returns to you, what you do next might be the best damn thing you’ve ever done.

Eddie’s taller, but he’s close, so all you have to do is lean your head up a little bit and—

soft, plump lips. His lips are warm. He’s holding me tighter. Eddie’s holding me.

Eddie’s snapped out of his shock after a moment of your lips on his, and when he starts kissing back, your mind starts to spiral through all the tiny little moments you missed all these moments.

All the looks he’s stolen when he thought you weren’t looking. The jokes he’s made curated for your sense of humor only, and with quips only you would get. The way he’d lean against your body. Carrying your stuff for you until the library.

Your mouths move slower, then faster and more desperate as all those images fly back to you like someone released their hold on them.

Eddie likes you too.

He pulls back for air holding you close by the neck, and his face is red.

He’s breathless, too, just like you, and his lips are shining because you two were kissing without abandon in the middle of the forest trail, and god he looks so pretty like this.

“That…” he starts shaking his head, and laugh. “That wasn’t a rejection.”

“God, we are both stupid,” you lunge forward for another kiss, and it’s difficult to kiss someone who’s laughing, but you manage.

Eddie holds your face, cups your cheeks with his other hand and guides you to a slow, tongues-tied kiss that lasts for minutes until you’re clutching at his clothes and getting dizzy.

When he looks at your face again, his cheeks as red as yours must be, Eddie gives you a smile you’ve never seen before.

It’s… open. And sweet, like molasses.

“You know that you’re definitely stuck with me now, right?” he asks.

You smile back, feeling drunk in the face of his happiness—it’s too much like a Summer’s day. Too hot, and sticky, and addicting.

You fucking love it.

“Right back at ya, pretty boy.”

Eddie smiles at you with a shy duck of his head.

Most of the time, you two used to sit in silence.

By the time graduation comes and Summer arrives, most of your time together is spent between a sea of words. The silence you two share is intimate. Rewarding, and comfortable like no other silence you’ve experienced.

Most of the time, though, you and Eddie are a constant exchange of possibilities and desires—a push and pull of dreams, ideas, and knowledge.

He calls you his moonlight.

Eddie discovers you see him as sunlight, and tells you that you’re like Moon—”sure as the tide, baby. That’s how I learned to love you. Coming and going, ‘till you were washing my mind without fail every day.”

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anxiety-elemental-kay · 10 months

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TriMax Vol. 2 and Wolfwood

First want to shout out to everyone participating in the book club!! I’m getting so much more out of this reread of TriMax, thanks to listening to everyone’s thoughts as we read along! I’m seeing things in a new light and getting details I never spotted before! I’m so grateful we get to dissect such a meaty story and characters together, because there’s so much and so many legit ways to interpret things! We love us all some deep space planet future gun LITERATURE around here!

Okay, now, I promised to have some actual THOUGHTS, and now just share funny panels, so here’s something that stood out to me: watching Wolfwood’s arc unfold and his growing understanding of who Vash is and what his goals are.

In volume 2 of Trigun, Wolfwood felt like a character whose story got truncated by the manga being dropped by the publisher. He clearly had a backstory and was going to play an important role, but Shenanigans meant whatever those original plans were didn't pan out. So instead we hit TriMax Vol1 and this relative stranger is the one who pulls Vash out of retirement. It’s pretty strange, and it must be extra strange if you’ve never seen either anime adaptation, which both expand on Vash and Wolfwood’s interactions and relationships before Vash hits his Eriks era. In that case it makes more sense for Wolfwood to go after Vash, by then an old friend, but I’m not going to give TriMax too much of a hard time, since, again, publishing Fuckery. And really it’s not handled poorly or anything, it’s just strange.

Anyway, Wolfwood’s role in Vol1 seems to be as an external force to push Vash along when he’d Rather Not, and to serve as a contrast/dissenting voice against Vash’s optimism and philosophy. See the family feud/hostage taking in particular. Wolfwood constantly argues that Vash is naive or trying to save everyone, and selfish for trying to not get his hands dirty. Given what Wolfwood (and the reader) know about Vash at this point, it’s an understandable conclusion to make. Even when his adoptive home and family were in danger, Vash didn’t do anything to stop the violence, to the point of trying to downplay the sexual harassment of a child. Vash didn’t push back against the bandits until Wolfwood pushed him. Why would Wolfwood believe Vash is anything other than a holier-than-thou prick who is too cowardly to make the kinds of choices Wolfwood’s had to make? (And though we didn’t know what those were at the time, Wolfwood clearly spoke from experience.)

Then we have Vash intervene in the family feud/hostage crisis, with his new red coat and everything. He uses his reputation to clear out the civilians, then his uncanny abilities to take out most of the hostiles without killing them, until he is confronted with the grieving father about to kill his daughter’s murderer. This is *exactly* the kind of situation Wolfwood warned him about, about family willing to take up violence if their loved ones are hurt, about having to make a deadly choice and become the devil. And we see Vash struggle! He empathizes with the father’s desire for revenge, directly mirrored against Vash’s own grief over Rem and hatred of his brother! But he chooses to intervene anyway, choosing not to beg for the murderer’s life, but for the father to not commit a terrible crime. In the end no one dies, and by not continuing the cycle of violence that led to his daughter’s death, the father is also spared. Vash found another way out.

This is the first time Wolfwood witnessed a demonstration of Vash’s philosophy in practice, proof that it’s about more than just ‘killing is wrong’, it’s also about empathy, and stopping future violence before it an happen.

Which brings us to Vol.2, where we really start to understand more about Wolfwood.

We know he’s a Gung-Ho-Gun, and we know he witnessed the Fifth Moon for himself, so the audience knows why he knows about Knives, and can guess why he’s helping Vash (since their goal is now ‘eternal suffering’). We know he doesn’t particularly want to be there, so what brought him here? He dreams of the kids at the orphanage he’s referenced before, begging their big brother to hold him, only for Wolfwood to smile sadly, then hold up his bloody hands and say he has no right to hug them anymore.

And then after Wolfwood kills Rai-dei, we get one of the most stunning panels in the manga.

And by stunning I do mean that literally. Every time I’ve read this volume, I have to stop for a moment when I hit this page. Others have talked about its composition in detail, so I won’t dig too much into it here. This is such a pivotal scene for both characters, their understandings of each other, and as a setup for Future Stuff.

Wolfwood has just seen Vash do something stupid and naive AGAIN, but turning his back to Rai-dei, who was about to attack Vash again. Wolfwood killed Rai-dei to protect Vash, then Vash lashed out in anger, saying he wasn’t going to go through with the attack. Probably. Wolfwood, fucking pissed about all this, demands Vash shoot him if he thinks what Wolfwood did was wrong. Wolfwood believes that Vash needs to dirty his hands, to become a demon (like Wolfwood has) in order to save people, and anything else is childish nonsense. In this moment he says he’s willing to give up his life if that means Vash would become the kind of person Wolfwood believes he has to be.

Then Vash plays his reverse uno, saying that he sees Wolfwood as the coward in this moment, for valuing his life so little, for being so ready to give up hope and toss his own life away. He sees Wolfwood has someone who was forced to play a role he never wanted, to become someone he didn’t want to be.

Vash reads Wolfwood like a book, and it disarms the situation. (Empathy again plays a role in ending a violent conflict!)

We already got a sense that Wolfwood is someone who loves very deeply, we saw that in the dream with the orphans. We see in that same dream that he’s someone who’s willing to bloody his hands, and hates himself for it. The next chapter opens with a flashback of child Wolfwood being shot for the first time, and as he suffers horrific pain, says that he thinks for the first time (!!!) that he didn’t want to die.

We see next chapter that this conflict gets under Wolfwood’s skin, he’s still thinking about it, even thinking that Vash putting others’ live above his own “makes me sick”. The next time we see them talk about ethics is on the way to Vash’s home while they’re in the cable car, Wolfwood reiterating that he has to make the choices he does because he has (human) limits. Then Vash admits that he doesn’t know if his way is the right one! In a moment of vulnerability we haven’t seen until now, Vash shares his doubts about his philosophy. In response, Wolfwood says nothing. He doesn’t take the moment to pry open the crack in the armor Vash shows him, just listens.

In this volume we’re starting to see the shape of Wolfwood’s story arc, of his conflict with Vash, and a growing understanding between them. I won’t say more to avoid story spoilers, but this volume does such a good job of planting the seeds of future arcs for both characters, with the “Shoot” scene in particular coming back in a big way more than once.

What I love LOVE about Trigun is that it’s not interested in determining who is morally superior, because moral absolutes do not exist. The narrative doesn’t put down Wolfwood’s philosophy, and though we see Vash succeed in his efforts to save people without loss of life, we see him fail just as often, if not more. Trigun invites us to understand why these people believe the world works a certain way, and how those ideas clash with reality. This is something that becomes much stronger later, we’re still very early in the story, but it’s something to keep in mind going forward.

One last thing to note, though it’s not as strong a thread in this volume, is that alongside Wolfwood’s growing understanding of Vash, is his growing fear of his inhumanity. We know Wolfwood witnessed the Fifth Moon, and that’s one thing, but we know from Wolfwood’s internal thoughts that Vash being inhuman is something that’s always on his mind, and always plays a factor when they’re arguing. To Wolfwood it’s the thing that separates them as people, Wolfwood has human limits, and Vash doesn’t, and that’s the only reason Vash can believe and behave the way he does. (Is he right? That’s a question for the future). This is also the chapter where he gets a closer look at Vash’s power, where he sees Vash CRY BLOOD, and then a wave of darkness paralyzes Wolfwood, and Vash emits some kind of blast or wave that doesn’t hurt or damage anything, but frightens both Wolfwood and Leonof. Again, this is a bigger factor later, but it’s worth remembering that Wolfwood is tackling his perception of Vash as monstrous and dangerous alongside his more emotional understanding of who Vash is.

That’s all for now. That’s a lot of words and I don’t have the energy to go back and edit this, so if you see typos, no you didn’t.

#trigun #trigunbookclub #this is.... a lot of words #sorry #hope someone things this is interesting!#kay writes things

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