#i’ve done most of the drawing during my shift
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Could you draw a tf2 character lineup?
The slowest drawer on this website reports on duty🫡
First time drawing the whole team together woo!
#i suffer from the chronic lack of time#i’ve done most of the drawing during my shift#which was hell#me all the time being like ‘please nobody come or want anything from me#I need to draw my silly old men#and scout 😒#and pyro i guess??#anyway end of story time#tf2#my art#tf2 fanart#tf2 engineer#tf2 pyro#tf2 scout#tf2 soldier#tf2 spy#tf2 medic#tf2 demoman#tf2 sniper#tf2 heavy
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alone, in my mind ✧ ˚ · . eddie munson x afab!reader.
summary: so what if eddie munson had a really pretty face, it was just too good not to admire. so what if you liked to draw him in your free time, he definitely didn't mind. yet somehow, tutoring him still felt like the most scandalous thing you've ever done.
cw: 18+ content (minors, shoo!) afab!reader, virgin!reader, graphic smut (including p in v, oral, fingering, and all that jazz), orgasms, this is v dirty i'm sorry.
word count: almost 14k! don't judge me pls, i've been sitting on this for a few weeks.
prompt requests are always open!
alternate ao3 link
There was something therapeutic about sitting alone during lunch, watching chaos take place in front of you; from kids running around the cafeteria, traveling from table to table, conversing among themselves, yelling to each other from across the room, even standing up on tables like a stage and yelling out to the entire high school class. Eddie Munson was an enigma. You couldn’t figure him out. Other than him dealing you weed under the table and the occasional class you had with him, you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to him at one time.
So, he might find it slightly weird that you’ve drawn him in your sketchbook more than a few times. You couldn’t help it, that hair was just too glorious not to draw. But to be fair, you’ve drawn up a lot of the other students without speaking to them. A lot of it was pure observation—a student focused on a book they were reading, a group of the cheerleaders circled up and giggling among themselves, Jason Carver pictured in his actual form, the true evil of Hawkins. Sometimes you liked to draw devil horns on him for fun. No harm, no foul, you didn’t actually mean anything by it—you just hated how much he bolstered himself up at school, despite still paying you to write for his English homework. But hey, you gotta hustle where you can. He left you alone for the most part, anyways.
Once the bell rang and the last few stragglers were leaving the lunch room, you finally gathered your own things. Shoving the last minute homework into your bag and clutching the sketchbook to your chest, you leisurely walked your way to the exit. The sound of your pencil clanging to the floor beneath you had you pausing in your tracks.
Part of you just wanted to leave it, you had enough in your bag that it wouldn’t really matter anyways.
“Hey, this yours?” The voice asked.
You turned slowly, scanning the floor, stopping on the dirtied-up white sneakers that squeaked against the floor as they turned toward you. Of course it has to be Eddie.
“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” You said softly, reaching forward to grab the pencil from him. The silence was apparent now, only the two of you left in the cafeteria.
“No problem.” He laughs slightly, “Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” He leans in, lowering his voice—not that it really mattered since it was only you two, “I got a couple new strains in, if you want to meet up at the usual spot.”
Against your own rational thinking, your mouth spoke before your brain could process. “Sure.” You hadn’t even smoked the last bit of weed he’d sold to you yet.
He smiled, leaving wordlessly.
Sometimes it felt like life was happening around you and you weren’t even present, your body just did and said what it wanted.
“Oh, you fucking idiot.” You spoke to yourself.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Four o’clock. The woods just west of Hawkins High. Picnic table. That’s how you’d set up your meetings from the start. And of course, you were always right on time. Eddie however, he’d get here eventually. At least you hoped. Your shift at the Family Video started in a half hour and not that Keith would even take the chance to fire you, you just hated the idea of being late.
“Come on, Munson.” You grumble to yourself, checking the watch around your wrist. You sigh, sitting your bag on the table to grab your sketchbook, scribbling down a rough version of the wide expanse of trees in front of you.
“I’m late, I know.” A voice startles you from behind. The scream that leaves your mouth is involuntary, but you quickly cover it in an attempt to compose yourself.
“Jesus Christ, Eddie.” You tell him, pulling your hand from your mouth. “You can’t sneak up on people like that!”
“You okay?” He asks, chuckling lightheartedly. The question was genuine, though. The way his eyes connected with yours assured you of so.
“Sure, one tiny heart attack later.” You reply sarcastically.
“Hey, I was loud as fuck walking up.” Eddie says like he's trying to prove it to himself, pointing behind himself briefly. “You completely forget other things exist when you shove your head into that thing.”
You glance down at your book before promptly snapping it shut. “Shut up.” You say, no real bite behind it.
He threw his hands up in defeat. “Hey, just a harmless observation.” Not that you were bothered by him observing, but the fact that he had—it was surprising. He only ever talked about two things, Hellfire Club and D&D, which went hand in hand. But so much so, that he was almost hyper fixated on it.
“Anyways,” you say, shifting the subject. “I’ve got work in thirty—well, about twenty now,”
“Yadda, yadda, yeah—make it quick, I know.” He grins, placing his small chest of goodies on the table. You roll your eyes in annoyance, even if you weren’t really that annoyed in the first place. He slaps two baggies on the table, presenting them like prized possessions.
“Colombian Gold, Northern Lights.” He says, pointing them out individually. “Pick your poison.”
You tilted your head, deciding on which sounded better. Eddie interjects thoughtfully, “Personally, I’m a fan of that sweet, sweet Colombian Gold.”
You laugh quietly, nodding in agreement. “Fine then.”
“Twenty for the ounce.” He says, shoving the leftovers back into the metal chest.
You swing your bag around to dig for the pocket change, shoving your hand inside to grab for your wallet. But, there’s nothing there. Not the familiar chain or zipper that sticks out, nothing.
“Shit, shit.” You say suddenly, beginning to panic. You close your eyes shut, trying to retrace your steps. But it dawns on you, your wallet is probably sitting on your bedside shelf where you left it the night prior, coming back from your late night run to the store after leaving work. “I think I left my wallet at home.”
Eddie ponders for a moment, then shrugs. “Get me when you can, I know you’re good for it.”
You hated the idea of not paying him the money you owed, “I swear I’ll pay today. I can meet up with you after I get out of work or—“
Eddie snorts, walking forward and grabbing a pen that had fallen out of my bag during my wild search. He opens my palm, holding it firmly. He pulls off the cap of the pen, holding it between his teeth as he scribbles something on my hand.
You inspect it closely. It was an address. Eddie caps the pen and hands it back to you. “Can you stop there after work?”
You were apprehensive for a moment, but figured there couldn’t be much harm in it. “Yeah, I can try. I don’t get out until nine, though.”
“Works for me.” He tells you, shoving his hand in his back pocket to adjust the black handkerchief that was shoved in haphazardly. You snorted softly, shoving your things back into your bag as quickly as you could.
“Okay, well—I’ll see you then, I guess—“ You swung back around, coming directly in contact with Eddie’s chest, who hadn’t moved from his spot. Why hadn’t he moved? More importantly, why was he reaching down?
Fuck. You looked down to notice some of the papers from your sketchbook had sprawled out on the ground. You scrambled to gather the drawings back into the pocket of the book, hoping you could avoid another awkward encounter with Eddie today.
But, as luck would have it—“Damn, these are good.” Eddie says suddenly, holding up one drawing in particular, an offhand drawing off Steve while you had some downtime at work.
“Make sure you do my hair justice.” He’d told you. You laughed and smacked him in the back of the head softly.
“Is that Harrington?” He asks.
“…yeah.” You answer, trying not to die of embarrassment.
He glances at you, noticing your discomfort. “Shit, I’m sorry. Here.” Eddie hands the paper over, realizing he may have overstepped.
“Thanks.” You answer, taking the paper from his hand.
“Oh, hey-“ He interrupts, reaching down to grab another page that had fallen under the picnic table seat. “You forgot,” He pauses, looking at it closely, “one.” His voice is soft, thoughtful.
You curse inwardly, trying not to physically facepalm yourself.
“Is that me?” He asks, the smallest smile forming in his face. “Well, at least—-the back of me?”
You stutter for words, your brain suddenly lacking the English language entirely.
“Does my hair really look like that from the back?” He asks playfully, head tilted in curiosity.
“Ms. McNally’s class gets really boring.” You tell him, snatching the paper back. “Like, really boring.”
But no, his head definitely looked like that from the back, despite the unruly curls in his hair, there wasn’t a piece out of place.
“Glad to know the back of my head gives you some entertainment then.” It’s a lame attempt to lighten the mood, but it works. Your thankful his immediate reaction isn’t to find it odd or make fun of you, he almost seemed amused.
“Here.” He finally hands the page over. “No more peeking, I swear.”
You place the page back into your sketchbook carefully. Looking up, Eddie’s still standing there, though looking around aimlessly.
“Eddie, what are you still doing here?” You ask.
“Got another deal going on soon.” He tells you. “Top secret.” And if the wink didn’t make you blush, it was the grin that spread over his features, you shook your head and laughed it off.
“See you at nine, Munson.” You tell him, backpack slung over your right shoulder.
“Can’t wait.” He says playfully.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Your bike squealed to a stop outside of Family Video, nearly burning rubber. Clocking in with thirty seconds to spare, you breath a sigh of relief.
“What’s got you riled up?” Steve asks, organizing the Horror section of movies from a few feet away.
“Nothing.” You grumble, setting your bag down and throwing the god awful work vest over your sweater.
“You just missed Keith, by the way.” He adds, shooting you a knowing but amused look.
“Thank god.” Keith had a small obsession with you, not that you were creeped out about it. He was just so hopelessly in love with you, which blinded his ability to see that you had no interest in returning the sentiment. “That’s the last thing I need.”
“It’s the undeniable charm you’ve got.” Steve jokes, shrugging casually. “The ladies and gents love it—right, Robin?”
Like a jack in the box, Robin pops up from where she’s squatted behind the counter.
“Stop teasing her.” Robin warms, throwing a VHS case at Steve’s head. It promptly smacks him in the forehead.
“Ow, what the hell?” Steve shouts, fingers touching his forehead for any sign of injury. Not that there would be any, Robin had barely hit him in the process and Steve was kind of dramatizing things. You’d still consider it one of his more positive traits, even if it did serve as more entertainment to you and Robin than anything.
“No, he’s right.” You play along. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”
There’s a beat of silence and then you finally speak up.
“What do you guys make of Eddie Munson?” You asked, grabbing the stack of returned rentals to be checked through.
“The dude who’s been held back twice? Doesn’t he have that weird after school group thing he does?” Steve asks, looking between you and Robin.
“Yes.” You nod. “It’s a D&D club, Steve. Not a cult.”
Steve shrugs nonchalantly. “He always seemed off to me.”
“Yeah and you were prancing around with Tommy and Carol most of junior year.” You reminded him. “Don’t you remember when Tommy hit me on my bike with his car during Spring Break? During that giant party he had at his house?”
Steve immediately looked regretful at judging Eddie.
“Thank god you found Robin.” You tell him, trying to make Steve feel less guilty about it all. Tommy had always been jealous of Steve, but Carol and her constant snarky remarks always egged Tommy on.
“Yeah!” Steve cheers, reaching over to high five Robin. She scoffs in annoyance, leave Steve’s unanswered high five hanging in the air.
“We both love chicks and boobies, it works out great.” Steve adds, returning hand to his side.
“He’s still learning.” Robin says quietly, leaning over toward you. “Why are you asking about Eddie anyways? Doesn’t he deal weed to the students?”
You shot Robin a knowing look.
“Oh. Oh.” She catches on. “Well, did something happen between you two?”
“No. Nothing, really. I just have to meet up with him after work and was wondering if I should be worried.” Robin didn’t seem to question as to why you would need to meet up with, which made you grateful.
“He doesn’t seem like that type of guy. Not to me, at least.” Robin assures, lowering her voice as the entrance bell jingled, signaling a customer. “But, you could always take your pocket knife with you.”
Your mouth dropped open at the suggestion, but to be fair, Robin just wanted to make sure you felt safe.
“Yeah—murder first, ask questions later.” You retort playfully.
“You’ve been watching too many scary movies with Steve.” Robin tells you.
“Hey, don’t knock ‘em til you try ‘em!” Steve says, greeting the customer as they walk by.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
You locked up for the night as soon as you could, making the short trek to your bike behind the back of the Family Video store. You pulled the small piece of paper you had scribbled on earlier, the address Eddie had left earlier started to smudge about an hour into your shift and you didn’t want to take any chances that it could last. And luckily, your mother had dropped your wallet off in the process of making her way to work that night, which was a lifesaver. The idea of biking home and then to Eddie’s made your legs hurt at the very possibility.
It was a ten minute bike ride away from the store, leading you down a long road that led to a dimly lit trailer park. The uneasiness set in immediately.
As if on cue, one of the poorly lit lamps sprinkled throughout the residence flickered a couple times before going out completely.
“Great. This is how I die.” You say to yourself, double checking the number on the paper so it matched with the trailer you were riding up to.
Everything seemed normal, the lights were on inside. Aside from the totally barren mobile home and Eddie’s truck parked in the driveway, nothing felt too grim about the whole situation. Normally, you’d be in a rush to get home and relax, but you knew your parents didn’t care one way or another, as long as you came home in one piece.
You sighed, stepping off and leaning your bike against the deck. If it wasn’t for the muffled music playing inside the trailer, you would assume whoever was there had left but forgot to turn their lights off. You reach forward to knock tentatively on the flimsy screen door.
There’s a rustling from the back of the home, the sudden silence of music being turned off, then a twisting of the doorknob as the door creaked open.
“Well, well, well.” Eddie says, grinning at you through the screen door. “I didn’t think you’d ever show.”
“It’s only five after nine, Eddie.” You tell him, reaching around into your bag to make things quick.
“It was just a—nevermind,” He mumbles quietly to himself, “Whatcha got for me, princess?”
You curled your head to the side subtly, but didn’t think anything of the harmless and playful endearment. Save it, bookmark it, stow it away for later. You slide him the twenty, he eyes it for a moment. “You know,” he begins, arm resting against the trim of the door, “I’d take that drawing of me over the twenty if you’re willing to fork it over.”
“Are you serious?” You ask, hand frozen in place from where Eddie was hanging onto the bill.
“Deadly.” He tells you, tongue smoothing over the teeth that showed through his grin.
You debated, not sure why he was so interested in the first place.
“Why don’t you want the money?” You ask.
“You’ve bought enough from me, I think that warrants a little discount.” He shrugs, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.
“You’re so weird, Munson.” You reply, pulling out the sketchbook and handing the drawing over.
“Got anymore?” He asks jokingly, albeit a little curious.
“I’ll let that remain a mystery, thank you.” You tell him, snapping the book closed. He holds the drawing up to the light, watching him scan over it admiringly.
“It’s really good, you know. You probably draw a lot of kids at school, don’t you?” He asks and you’re not sure where his sudden interest in conversation with you is coming from. Both of you didn’t interact outside of deals—this reality almost didn’t feel tangible.
“Sometimes.” You answer skeptically, “Not all the time, though.”
“We’ll, I’m honored.” He says, noting one of the small details in the background. “Did you make Ms. McNally resembles a hobbit on purpose?”
You snorted at that. It was something, in hindsight, that you’d completely forgotten about. “She was really pissing me off that day.”
“Nice.” He laughs to himself, finally setting the drawing down on a table out of view. “Anyways, don’t worry about the twenty. You’re covered.”
“You really don’t have to do that, Eddie. I can pay.” You felt guilty at the thought, but Eddie seemed pretty serious about the whole ordeal.
“Nope. We’re good.” He tells you, flashing you his trademark smile. He still hadn’t changed his school earlier, brandishing his Hellfire Club tee proudly.
“Okay,” You draw out, dragging the last letter a bit. “Well, I’ll see you at school tomorrow then.”
“Aye, aye.” He replied in mock salute, coming to stand at attention.
You couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the act, it was undeniably goofy, but adorable in its own right. He shut the door slowly, waving you a sweet goodbye as he finally disappeared.
And despite all efforts, there was one giant fucking elephant in the room that you couldn’t ignore–because not only was Eddie devastatingly beautiful, he was charming as hell, which was something you had overlooked for far too long.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
“Stupid. Fucking. Lockers.” You grumble to yourself, slamming the locker shut with every word. It was as if the world was setting you up for the shittiest day possible. It started with you sleeping through your alarm, burning the toast you’d made for breakfast, and somehow managing to spill orange juice all over your jeans in the small span of an hour–so not only were you on your second pair of jeans, you were ready to slam your head against the locker in defeat, ready to be put out of this complete, utter misery that had been your Friday morning.
“Woah, woah.” The voice carried down the hall, you peeked behind you.
Eddie Munson was heading right for you. You turned and sighed, slamming the locker again for good measure.
“Lucky for you, I’ve got just the touch.” Eddie assures you, wiggling his fingers in your face.
You tried to ignore every flipping feeling in your stomach at the sight of it.
It took him a second, but he swiftly lifted the locker door in a quick motion and slammed it close, that time for good. He’s smiling down at you–again, with that annoying, shit-eating grin.
“No. Don’t even start.” You tell him, finger pointing accusingly. “My morning has been horrible. I don’t need jokes, right now.”
“I was just going to ask if you wanted to walk to English together?” He replied, looking slightly defeated. “If that’s okay?”
“Oh.” You frowned. It still didn’t feel right to be conversing in front of your peers, like it was almost illegal. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But, Eddie–”
“Yep?” He asks, turning on his heels. You both had English together, which most of the time, was spent staring directly at the back of his head because you couldn’t be bothered to listen to Ms. McNally’s grating voice for more than a few minutes at a time.
“Why are you talking to me?” You ask, genuine and honest. There had never been any reason not to before, but why now?
“You seemed a little scary–well, not scary, scary–but like, she could definitely break my fingers if I said the wrong thing to her–that type of scary.” He explains in one breath, fiddling with the rings on his right hand.
Fair enough, considering the pocket knife you did carry in your bag for instances like that. There were too many assholes and you had plenty of ways to deal with them.
“Ah.” You replied, as if it all made sense. “Well, the jury's still out.”
“I’ll try and remember that.” He tells you, laughing slightly. “I also just wasn’t sure you liked talking to anyone from school–I mean I get that, but I just wanted to make sure you knew that you don’t have to sit alone at lunch like you do–”
“I don’t mind it–” You interject.
“I know. I’m just saying. Our table wouldn’t mind. The guys usually don’t know how to talk to girls, so most of them don’t say anything anyways.” He assures you.
The friendliness caught you off-guard. It seemed genuine, but you were also waiting for the catch.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
The teacher slaps the graded test onto your desk, brandishing a bright red A. You quickly shove it under your textbook, glancing up as you hear the rustling of Eddie swiveling around to face you from his seat.
“All good?” You ask, mostly in an attempt to be friendly. But, you can’t help but notice the giant circled F on his paper. You’d heard lots of stories about Eddie and his inability to pass, being held back, and every lousy nickname that came along with that. People liked to pick on Eddie because he was different, he didn’t fit in with anyone at Hawkins, and while you might be able to get away with slipping under the radar–Eddie couldn’t.
“I could tutor you, you know.” You suggest, instantly regretting the words the moment they leave your mouth.
“Seriously?” He asks, looking caught off guard. “I appreciate it but–”
“Seriously.” You say, “English is my best subject and as long as you put in the same effort I am, I could at least get you up to a C.” In for a penny, in for a pound…I guess.
“That’s–yeah, that’s cool. I’m kinda busy with Hellfire most days though–” He starts, rolling the paper up in his hands. It was a small detail, but you noticed how often he used his hands when he liked to fidget, whether it be his rings or a poor piece of paper being strangled to death.
“Weekends are good.” You assure him. “I work a lot during that week so I wouldn’t have time anyways.”
Eddie nods slowly. He seemed apprehensive, like he didn’t really deserve the help you were offering. His jaw was clenched, eyes downcast.
“Eddie, I don’t mind.” You told him, offering a small smile to ease whatever worry he was feeling. “It's just–we’ll have to study at your place though, not mine.”
You didn’t even want to begin to explain the ordeal to your parents, as understanding as they may be–any site of a boy and your parents would be seething at the idea.
“My uncle is gone most of the time, so I guess that works out.” He shrugs.
The sound of the teacher clearing her throat from a few rows over interrupts you both. You roll your eyes inconspicuously, turning in your chair.
Eddie taps your leg softly, having already turned around in his chair. You look underneath the desk to find a small piece of paper between his thumb and middle finger. Prying it from his fingers.
You unfold it quietly, fingers smoothing over the creases in the paper. 'Tmrw at 4?' It read it dark blue ink. His handwriting wasn’t as messy as you expected, you quickly scribbles a ‘Yep :)’ adding the smiley face for fun. Maybe this was a good thing, you could make it a good thing. Helping someone bump their grade and maybe make a friend in the process—what’s the worst thing that could happen?
You slid the paper over his shoulder, ignoring the way his fingertips brushed against yours. You didn’t see him unfold the paper, but the way his shoulder shook with silent laughter was a good sign. He pocketed the paper for safekeeping.
You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, but what you couldn’t see was the same smile that Eddie shared with you.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
The cafeteria was already packed by the time you had arrived, the hustle and bustle of kids grabbing their food and chit chatting like it was musical chairs was enough to drive you insane. You quickly ducked your head, attempting to make your way to your usual spot in the corner of the lunch room.
The hand that grabs your wrist stops you in your tracks. There’s a moment where you’re ready to swing back in retaliation.
“Hey, want to sit with us?” He asks. He was really starting to throw you off.
The idea of going from speaking in short, clipped—and sometimes one word answers, to full fledged conversations was not something you were used to. The only two people you talked to that much, outside of your parents, was Robin and Steve. And maybe Steve was a cop out, you two practically grew up together, toppling over each other as babies.
“Uh, I don’t know—“ You begin, but the bellowing, boisterous voice of Dustin Henderson overpowers your own.
“Steve graduated already, you gotta make new friends eventually.”
That little fucking twerp. Him and Steve together in one place was a nightmare.
“I will murder you, Henderson. Don’t try me.” You threatened.
“You wouldn’t.” He counters.
“Try me.” You quirk your eyebrow. “Remember what Steve told you about summer of ‘84?”
Your voice was lowered, but it didn’t seem like anyone was paying any attention, aside from the people sitting at Eddie’s table. It was like they had front row tickets to the most talked about movie in town. Dustin’s eyes widened in fear.
“He also told me about that time you two—“ You quickly shoved your hand over his mouth, stopping him from saying what was possibly the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done. He muffled the rest of whatever he was saying into your hand.
“Don’t you dare.” You say seriously, fingers pinching the tip of his ear. His hands fly up, signaling his white flag of defeat.
“You’re so mean sometimes.” He whines, rubbing his tender ear.
“You’ll live, Henderson.” You assure him, bumping him aside with your hip to take a seat.
Eddie had been watching with intrigued amusement the entire time, not sure how well you and Dustin actually knew each other until now. And apparently, it was entirely too much.
“Not gonna eat?” Eddie asks, noticing your lack of a lunch tray.
“I hate big crowds. I usually just wait until everyone sits down.” You say softly, setting your bag on your knees to rest your arms on.
“Here.” Eddie says, sliding his uneaten apple and bag of carrots over like it was a game of poker and he was dividing up his chips. “For now, at least.”
“I’m fine, honestly.” You laugh lightheartedly, but take the fresh fruit and vegetable anyway.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Your halfway through lunch when you lock eyes with Jason, who’s practically burning eyes into your skull. He motions toward the door leading to the back of the school, hoping you’d get the signal.
It made him look ridiculous more than anything. You’d already planned to meet up with after lunch earlier on in the week, but Jason never seemed like he was focused on anything other than basketball or Chrissy—which fair, Chrissy was a great girl.
You leave without much of a word, other than a smile and a pat on Dustin’s shoulder, hoping he’d get the message. He knew just as much as Steve did about your arrangement with Jason, considering Dustin and Steve were practically conjoined twins, at this point. He clears his throat, distracting Eddie with something about their meeting tonight so you could sneak away without worry.
When you’re finally outside, Jason is pacing, not nervously, but definitely impatiently. “You got it?” He asks.
You pause, “…Yeah.” You answer him, pulling the midterm paper out of your bag and handing it over, he quickly snatches it away and slides you over the money he promised.
“Jesus, Jason. This isn’t a drug deal. Chill out.” You finally find the courage to say.
“If anyone finds out about this, I could lose my chance at any type of scholarship, you know?” He tells you, and you don’t even want to begin to hear his sob story. His parents could buy his way into any school he wanted, though you appreciated his poor attempt to manage it himself.
“Hmm, well maybe—just maybe, you shouldn’t be asking people to write your papers for you then.” You snark back, zipping your backpack closed aggressively for good measure. “Figure this shit out yourself, Jason. I’ve got work, my own school stuff, and plenty of other shit to worry about. I don’t need you hounding me for a paper that you could finish on your own in a night if you actually took the time.”
“But basketball is my priority.” He tells you, you join in to mock him at the same time.
“Fuck off, Jason.” Enough was enough. Jason was nothing but a problem, even after all the pain and embarrassment he’d put you through a couple years prior. “Ask your perfect, pretty little girlfriend to do the work for you.”
And for once, he finally looked defeated. But, he was smart in not responding. He shoved his way past you, making his way back inside. You don’t remember how the arrangement between you two started initially, or why you fell pity to him after the stunt he pulled a couple years ago—you figured you were more desperate for the money at the time, sacrificing and swallowing your pride in the process. But now? Fuck that.
You could just ditch the rest of the day, which didn’t sound entirely too awful, but it was rash and you didn’t like to act on impulse, which you’d been doing entirely too much of lately.
“Pull it together.” You remind yourself before forcing yourself through the rest of what was already a horrible day.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Steve tagged along to lock up with you tonight, considering you two had plans to hang out tonight and he had picked you up from school that evening as a favor.
“What’s got you so tense?” He asks, swinging his keys around his pointer finger.
“Everything.” You sigh through clenched teeth, outwardly groaning as you take a seat in Steve’s car. “God, my feet are killing me.” You quickly toe your shoes off on the floorboard of his car and curl your legs up criss cross.
“Care to elaborate?” He pushes, backing out of the parking lot to pull out on the main road. “Everything is just like a blanket statement, you know. You know I’m never gonna repeat anything you tell me to anyone, ever.”
“Except Dustin.” You remind him.
“Okay, that was fair game. You told him some embarrassing stuff about me. I couldn’t just stand there and watch.” He laughs, you try to hold back your own laughter but it bubbles out soon after.
“It’s just—the shit with Jason, trying to keep up with school, my parents hounding me all the time, and then I promised Eddie I would help him with English—which, you know how my motor mouth works, once I get an idea it just comes out, it’s impossible to stop it.” And god was that a fucking breath of relief to finally let out.
“You’re still doing Jason’s schoolwork?” He asks, slightly disappointed in you. It was understandable, he hated him just as much as you.
“Only the important stuff. Essays, the higher graded stuff, you know. It’s easy money.” You tell him, but it sounds like a lousy excuse.
“Let’s not forget he embarrassed you in front of the entire basketball team and cheerleaders last year.”
“Which was partly your responsibility, Steve.” You remind him. But, it was so far in the past that you couldn’t be mad at him. Holding a grudge against Steve was like hating your own brother and you couldn’t do it. Your gut was pointing to every possible sign to say no to Jason, but Steve gave you the push you’d needed that night.
“I thought it was genuine. I’m sorry.” Steve tells you, you could see the way he paused, swallowed, thinking back on the memory.
“Anyways. I’m just stressed. Not that I can’t handle it, but Eddie’s been acting unnaturally friendly with me and it’s kind of giving me weird vibes.” You admit, like trusting Eddie was just too good to be true. Not weird in the way that made you want to run in the opposite direction, but the way that made your stomach clench in anticipation—and occasionally your thighs. Eddie had always been attractive, but only from a distance.
“Just keep your guard up, that’s always the best option.” He says honestly. “Not that you don’t already have the personality of a brick wall.”
You promptly hit Steve in the shoulder, watching him yell and reach for the spot where you’d landed the blow. “Ouch!”
“I'm not that boring you pompous ass!” You replied in playful disbelief. Steve slowly pulled into the driveway of his home, gradually letting the car come to a stop.
“Have you ever heard yourself talk?” He asks, voice teasing.
“And I sound like I have the voice of a thousand fucking angels, Harrington.” You assure him, shoving him to the side as you both raced to the front door.
“You mean a thousand fucking gremlins.”
You gasped outwardly, caught entirely off guard by his response. “Steve!”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
You wake up Saturday morning with everything Steve had told you fresh in your mind.
No getting too close. Don’t talk about anything personal. Take the arrangement for what it was. Studying, that was it. You rarely got nervous around boys, but Eddie, you just couldn’t put your finger on it.
Which was exactly why your heart was pounding out of your chest as you knocked on his front door. You silently prayed he’d answer the door quickly, the sweltering sun doing nothing to help your pale skin. You pulled your shorts down where they had ridden up on the bike ride here, the unnecessary sweater covering your plain tee proving to be nothing but a giant heat trap.
“Princess.” There it was again, the soft tone in his voice and the teasing smile that painted his face. “Welcome to the Munson residence, once again.”
“I’m dying out here.” You deadpan, hiking your bag up higher over your shoulder.
“Oh yeah,” Eddie fumbles with the door knob, swinging the door open. “Come in.”
You quickly step inside, watching as he closes the door behind you. It wasn’t much cooler, but it was definitely a welcomed change from the heat outside.
“You know, the sweater might be your problem.” He says as he makes his way beside you, leading you toward the back room. “Not that I’m judging, I’m just sure you’d suffer from heatstroke if I left you out there another five minutes.”
“And then I’d come back and haunt the shit out of you.” It was a lame attempt at a joke, but the response from Eddie has you snapping back into defense mode.
“Promise?” Your cheeks burn a dark shade of crimson, which you lamely attempt to hide by turning to dig into your bag and fish out some of your English notes and one of the books the class was currently focusing on.
“I figure we should probably go over the paper from the other day, so I could explain what you got wrong and why, if you don’t mind?” You change the subject entirely, taking a seat on his bed. It smelt like fresh linen, it was made neatly, you weren’t sure what you were expecting but it wasn’t that. Even you didn’t take as much time to make your bed that often, at least not as neatly as this. To each their own though—maybe Eddie was a bit of a neat freak, not that you minded.
“Sure.” He agrees, taking a seat on his bed beside you, although a comfortable distance away. You could appreciate him respecting boundaries, even if you could still smell the cologne he was wearing, not that it was distracting…at all.
His interest is genuine as you explain through the test, even if much of it isn’t sticking with him, he’s still asking questions and staying engaged more than you anticipated. Even you were ready for a break after an hour of endless talk of metaphors in literature and the re-explaining of Macbeth in detail.
“My fucking brain hurts.” Eddie sighs, laying down, hands crossed over his stomach. You try not to stare at the small patch of hair at the end of his stomach, leading down just past the tip of his belt. Or the way his surprisingly toned stomach stretches against the shirt he’s wearing—which was just a plain, black shirt, surprisingly enough. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve seen him without any type of Hellfire or metal band shirt on his body. Not that you noticed. Not at all.
Your brain finally stutters back awake at the feeling of his finger poking your thigh. “Huh?” You asks.
“I said, if you’re hot you can take off the sweater—that really can’t be comfortable.”
He was right, it wasn’t. But part of it was because it was like a safety blanket. Also, it was just one of your favorites. You let your brain run on autopilot, slipping it over your head. You tried not to think much of it, thankful your shirt was baggy enough that it didn’t reveal to much of you. Even if your shorts were scandalous in their own right. You had to pick and chose your battles.
You toss the sweater onto his nightstand, noting the paper that falls to the floor as a result. Your drawing, he’s moved into his room, at least. Which was both comforting and odd. You couldn’t understand the interest he’d had in it in the first place, but you weren’t really in a place to question it.
“I’ve been meaning to tape it up somewhere.” He mentions, noticing the way you stared at the lonely piece of a paper. “Not that my wall isn’t already covered in stuff.”
It was the first time you’d actually found the chance to take it all in. Posters, an amp—Eddie definitely came across as a guitar guy, so there wasn’t much surprise there, nightstands littered with random crap—your eyes immediately snapped toward the cuffs on the wall and quickly glanced over. There was no way you were touching on that topic, no fucking way.
“I’d be honored.” You joke, tapping your pencil against your notebook.
“Do you take it with you everywhere?” He asks curiously. “That sketchbook, I mean. I’ve never seen you without it until now.” He laughs innocently, adjusting himself to lean up and back onto his outstretched arms.
“It’s…in my bag.” You say quietly, almost embarrassed at the fact that he read through you so well.
“Can I see some other stuff?”
If there was a way to make you go into cardiac arrest with one sentence, Eddie Munson had found it.
“It’s cool if you don’t want to. I just think it’s cool. At least, from what I’ve seen.” He says openly, gesturing toward the drawing you had given him.
“They’re really not that good, a lot of them are just rough sketches and—I mean, you might find this weird but—“ Don’t mention that fact that you totally draw him a lot—like he won’t notice it the second he opens the book. You had a valid excuse, you just didn’t want to come across as a total creep.
“Just show me.” He smiles, nudging your leg again.
You reach for the book buried in your bag and hand it over. There wasn’t any shame behind the stuff in there, but the way everyone perceives art is so different that the idea of any type of comment or criticism was your worst nightmare.
He flips through slowly, landing on the particular one of Jason you drew from a few days prior. “Now that one’s spot fucking on.” He chuckles to himself, the tiny little devil horns was a nice detail, he seemed to enjoy it just as much as you did in the process of drawing it out.
He flips through the next few pages, nodding silently. The anticipation driving a hole through your chest, you couldn’t even comprehend why you were doing this right now. Every single thing that Steve told you flew right out of the window.
He flips another page and you interrupt quickly, “Before you say anything. You have a great hair for drawing, I don’t mean for it to come off as weird but it’s honestly helped me improve a lot.”
“No, no.” He shrugs, “I dig it. I guess I’m kinda your muse, in a way.”
That’s definitely not where you expected that to go. Actually, it was completely left field. So many miles away from where you planned.
“Not exactly.” You assure him. “I just—your hair is really distracting in class. And your side profile is really nice—“ You can feel yourself starting to ramble, the giant Cheshire grin on Eddie’s face only making things worse. “I’m just going to shut up before I embarrass myself more.”
Eddie closes the book and hands it over gingerly, “I really don’t mind. I’m serious.” He means it, you know that. “It’s fucking ridiculous how detailed you are.”
“I-“ You laugh softly, “nevermind. Thank you. Just…thanks, Eddie.”
You were so pleased in the fact that if there was anyone to see your work, someone you considered more of a stranger than a friend, like Robin or Steve, that it was Eddie.
“Anyways, we should probably, you know, get back to work.” You interject after a while of awkward silence, not sure how to move on from the topic.
“Cool with me.” He nods.
The next couple hours pass quickly, finally packing up your stuff after the long tangent Eddie went off on about D&D and the inner workings of it, which was a lot more interesting than you expected.
“Oh hey, you ever get to try out the weed I gave you the other day? It’s pretty damn sweet, right?” He says handing you the pencil you’d lended him.
“Actually, I haven’t.” You admitted. “I’ve been so busy with work that I completely forgot.”
He holds the joint between his fingers like he’d been keeping it stowed away for safekeeping, waiting for the right moment.
“My parents are going to ground me for life if I come home high.” Okay, it was a bit of an over exaggeration, but still buried in truth, nonetheless. “Let alone even smelling like weed.”
“Do you not realize who you’re talking to?” Eddie asks, he tried to seem offended, but it definitely came off as more of a joke. “Come on, miss perfect. We can just smoke it outside.”
You scoff in annoyance, knowing you were far from any type of perfect. “I have to be home in an hour, Eddie. If you get me in trouble with my parents, I swear to god.”
“I know—you’ll murder me and bury me in your backyard.” He jokes, knowing it’s all mostly playful. “Then I’ll come back to haunt your ass.”
You chuckle, your own words coming back to bite you. “Promise?” You ask, in an attempt to one up him.
You weren’t really expecting a response, but he gave you one anyway. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.” Eddie teases, bumping his shoulder against yours.
You smiled to yourself, adoring the way that Eddie charmed himself out of any situation with ease. He lit up the joint on the short walk to the wooded area away from his home, safe from any random bystanders that may decide to wander by.
“First hit?” He asks, handing it over to you,
“Such a gentleman.” You reply, hand over your heart. You took a long hit, inhaling until your lungs couldn’t take it and the slight burn lingered in the back of your throat, breathing out slowly through your nose.
For the first time, the silence is comforting. You pass the joint back and forth wordlessly until there’s practically nothing left.
“The stars are so pretty here.”
“Yeah.” Eddie answered after a while, staring directly at you.
You tried to ignore it, the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face.
“The deeper you get into the city, the less you can really see.”
He hummed to himself, “Totally.”
He hadn’t heard a word you said, too focused on the way you were mindless focused on the sky, mesmerized by something so simple.
“God, I don’t think I’ve ever been this high.” You sigh to yourself, feeling like you were having an out of body experience. Your body didn’t feel like you own, even these clothes felt foreign, the way you ran your fingertips over them. “You’re a really bad influence, Eddie.”
You finally lock eyes with him after a few minutes. He was in a complete daze, high out of his mind–you weren’t even sure if he was still on the same planet as you, which obviously, but there was no way he was leaving this picnic table without some assistance. You take a quick glance at your watch, feeling yourself jump back into reality almost immediately.
“Shit, I’m so dead.” You panic, clumsily placing your feet on the ground–any faster and you probably would’ve twisted your ankle. “I have to go, right now.”
“I can give you a ride, if you need it.” Eddie suggests, but it’s far, far–literally a galaxy away, from the safer option of biking home high.
“I need to ride off the smell anyway, I’ll manage.” You tell him, rather than declining his offer outright. You hesitate for a moment before lending your hand out, gripping his in an effort to pull him up.
“No smoke sessions tomorrow, Eddie. I’m serious.” You point an accusing finger at him, watching as he follows it, then looks up at you with his stupid, dopey smile. “I’m fucking serious.”
Super duper serious. Strictly business from this point forward.
“Fine.” He agrees in defeat, finding his own footing. “But, I’ll definitely feel like an ass if you don’t let me drive you home.”
There was no way Eddie could even put a coherent thought together right now.
“I’ll be fine. I swear.” You tell him, smiling sweetly. He didn’t seem like the type to push back thankfully and dropped the argument there. “See you tomorrow, Munson.”
You leave in a rush, blinded by the idea of having to explain any of this to your parents, and only once you’re home, after a very bumpy, sobering ride–you realize the one very important thing you left behind–your school bag.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
It shouldn’t be something you were worried about, Eddie had already looked through the one possession you were most insecure about–but still, the idea of being thrown so far off your game that you would leave your bag behind was enough to have you showing up at Eddie’s trailer bright and early, the morning dew still stuck to the grass and the birds chirping away at nothing.
You should have figured Eddie wouldn’t be fully dressed when he answered the door, but you weren’t really sure what you were expecting exactly. Still, the door creaking open and revealing a half naked Eddie, boxer-briefs leaving little to imagine–your eyes immediately snap back from where they’d lingered, because nothing about Eddie seemed little, not in the way he was towering over you, right now. Was he really that tall? Huh.
“What can I do for you on this fine–” He begins, voice still fighting through sleep, a yawn escaping him.
“I left my bag last night.” You blurt out. “I just need it back.”
It all seemed ridiculous, in hindsight—showing up like this.
“Uh, yeah–” He looks around, trying to gain his bearings. “It’s on my bed–I think.”
He nods in the direction of said bedroom, swinging the door open to welcome you inside. You side-stepped wide enough to avoid his shirtless chest, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like you were literally going to burst into flames at the slightest touch. Whatever high you had last night was gone, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that you still found Eddie attractive, sober or not.
You move around silently, flipping his blankets around to dig for your bag. He’s standing in the hallway now, just outside the doorway that leads to his room. His arms crossed over his chest tightly, still desperately attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Eddie Munson was nowhere near a morning person, but that made perfect sense in hindsight.
“Gotcha!” You celebrate quietly, throwing the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask—” His voice startles you, “how do you know Henderson?”
It was a weird way to start a conversation, but Eddie wasn’t one to dwell on semantics on proper conversation starting.
“Him and Steve are a package deal.” You explain, like it was the cure all.
“Oh.” You can see the gears turning in his head. “Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”
“I’ve known Steve since I was in diapers.” You admit, finally catching his gaze. “We’ve been friends for a really long time.”
“So that stuff at lunch the other day–” You had managed to push that so far out of your mind that you were surprised Eddie had even remembered. He was a curious person, you couldn’t really blame him, but the thought of explaining any of it to him was the last thing on your mind.
“Long story.” You laugh it off, feeling eager to escape now. “Anyways, I’ll be over at four. Is that still good for you?” You ask.
He nods silently, angling his body to let you through–because god, why was this hallway so fucking tiny? You clear your throat and quickly move past him, practically jogging toward the door. The faster you escape, the better.
“Later, Princess.” He adds–and you bite down on nothing but air, teeth clenched. He was trying to be coy and you knew it.
“Bye, Eddie.” You reply, lamely attempting to force the nervousness out of your voice. You’ve never forced your legs to pedal so fast in your life, feeling like jello by the time you arrived home.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
“Why the fuck do they talk like that?” Eddie asks, looking up at you from where he was stretched out on his bed, legs kicked up lazily behind. The soft sound of a random rock song you don’t know the name of playing on the radio to fill in as ambient noise.
“It’s archaic and prose.” You answer simply. “It makes a lot more sense the more you read it.”
“Well, I needeth a break, M’lady.” He jokes, forced accent and all.
“That actually wasn’t bad.” You admit, closing the book that you’d place between you both.
At some point, you’d ended up in a similar position, sprawled out beside Eddie, head resting in the palm of your hand.
“Not to boost your ego or anything, but you’re a pretty good tutor.” Eddie says, twirling the pencil between his fingers slowly.
“Whatever.” You shrug off lightheartedly.
And you can feel the impending question before it even leaves his mouth–blame it on your amazing intuition, but Eddie was also incredibly predictable sometimes.
“You want to know what Dustin and I were talking about during lunch, don’t you?” You ask, eyeing him carefully.
He shrugs, “I’m just a little curious, I guess.”
Fair enough. It might feel good to get off your chest anyways–not to mention half the school already knew about the instance.
“Jason asked me to meet up with him during that back to school bonfire they were having, right before Junior year–you remember? Anyways, I talked to Steve about it. He kinda pushed me toward it initially, he was the only reason I even went–I used to have a huge crush on Jason–horrible, now that I think about it. To make a long story short, he made this whole elaborate show about how he liked him and I ended up half naked in front of him, standing on the dock at his parent’s lake house, but the entire basketball and cheer team watched the entire thing happen. I didn’t realize until I heard them laughing from the bushes. There’s a picture, somewhere, I’m sure–I just try to block it out of my memory.” You explain slowly, enough time had passed that you could think about it without bursting into tears from embarrassment, but it was still terrifying to say out loud. “Steve felt really bad about all of it. I know he didn’t know any of that was going to happen, but I just took a lot of my frustration out on him.”
Eddie was eerily quiet, like he was attempting to soak all the information in. You tried not to gauge his reaction too much, knowing that pity was a normal reaction from most people.
“And then,” You say on a deep breath, “Steve and I got really drunk and made out and it was fucking weird. We joke about it now, but it was just…a lot of mistakes in one night, so I try to forget about it.”
“Good to know that Jason’s still a total dick.” He adds, not like that wasn’t already obvious. “I can’t believe you made out with Harrington.”
You want to gag at the long, distanced memory. “It wasn’t my best moment.” You agree.
“So, yeah–Dustin knows a couple secrets about me. And now you do–but if you tell anyone–Eddie–”
“I won’t.” You can see the seriousness on his face, coming from his voice.
“Swear?” You ask
“Pinky swear.” He answers, holding up his ringed pinky finger. You hesitate for a second before wrapping your own pinky finger around his.
He doesn’t let go. But to be fair, neither do you. He’s looking at you, not ogling, but admiring–although, it definitely could’ve been interpreted as him checking you out. You avert your attention to the intricate design of the ring on his finger, making some attempt to break the heavy, thick blanket of tension that had fallen over the both of you. It wasn’t like you’d never laid in bed with a boy before–you could lay and talk with Steve for hours, but Steve didn’t look at you the way Eddie did, not ever.
You clear your throat softly, twisting the ring with the few fingers that weren’t interlocked with his, both of your hands now resting against the soft duvet. “Is that a pig?” You ask lightheartedly. The answer never comes.
Instead, “Can I kiss you?” Eddie asks, almost too timid to be his own voice.
Your mouth hangs open for a half second, before you force yourself to pull it together. And you’re pretty sure your heart was making a desperate attempt at beating its way out of your chest. You nod slowly, leaning forward before you can even think about stopping yourself.
His lips were soft, gentle–but firm in the way they pressed against yours. You only had a couple other experiences to compare this too, but it was obvious that Eddie had confidence in his own abilities. You pulled back after a few seconds, wetting your lips nervously. Eddie followed the way the tip of your tongue dragged over them, the heat from the breathy exhale he let out fanning over your face.
“You never answered my question.” You say softly, eyes flicking up to look at him. His gaze still locked on your lips, you repeat yourself once more, this time calling him out directly. “Eddie, you never answered my question.”
“Yeah, yeah. It’s a pig.” He says, eyes finally locking with yours. “It’s a stupid fucking pig.” His voice is strained, breathy–and you’re just as sure as he is in the fact that you can’t believe this is even happening.
And even if you may end up regretting the decision later, you decide to put him out of his misery. Letting go of his hand completely, hand settling and finding a place to call home against the back of his neck, you pull him forward. He grunts slightly, almost inaudible as you press your lips against his own, more delicate than he had. In the way that he was entirely too sure of himself, you had restraint, hesitance. You let a long, breathy sigh and try to ignore the way your body shivers with nervousness and anticipation.
Eddie takes the opportunity to find his way past your lips, teasingly dragging his tongue against your own. Your brain could literally short circuit at the thought of his mouth being anywhere else on your body, even now you could feel yourself screaming internally and if you weren’t so goddamn turned on, you probably would just scream out loud.
His hand found your waist at some point, playing with the frayed fabric attached to the bottom of your shirt, kissing you fervently, playfully–and like the tease he’s proven to be, he bites down on your bottom lip gently, for good measure.
“Eddie,” You breath out, pulling back. You can’t even bring yourself to look at him, only following the way his hand is massaging the dip in your waist, “studying, remember?”
“Shit.” He curses to himself, allowing himself to drop back into reality. “Yeah, sorry.”
“It’s fine.” You assure him, knowing that studying was the last thing you were hoping to focus on now.
“I didn’t mean to overstep, I’m sorry if–” Eddie starts, and you can’t help but feel like a sucker for the way his voice stutters over the apology. And studying be-fucking-damned, you had plenty of other time to help him out. You had to allow yourself to self-indulge, at least once, and regret it later.
“Fuck it.” You sigh, shoving your belongings out of the way and pulling him toward you again.
He immediately takes the advantage of being above you, slotting his own legs between yours, still remaining enough distance that you both wouldn’t simultaneously combust from the idea of grinding against each other, though you weren't sure how long that would actually last.
He delves into your mouth like you’re the last meal he’s ever going to have and Jesus Christ–-no one’s ever kissed you this way. You sigh openly, letting Eddie deepen the kiss further. You try to find every reason to pull away, but you’re drawing the biggest fucking blank, gasping softly when Eddie’s hands dip behind your lower back, grasping onto your ass and bring you closer. And there’s no way to ignore the feeling of Eddie’s groin pressed against you, dick straining against the material of his jeans. His openly sighs into your mouth, switching from sweet, closed mouth kisses to dirty, deep open mouthed kisses that leave you both begging for more. His hand slips between you both, palm coming to rest against your clothed mound. He stops for a moment, like he wants to ask permission.
“Eddie,” You say softly, almost startled by how spent you sound, “I don’t know if we should–”
You wanted to keep going–god did you want to, but there was a lot of shit you needed to figure out first. And luckily, this didn’t feel like a one off experience, the way Eddie looked up at you with his wide eyed gaze, lips still obscenely wet and puffy.
“I’ve never–you know,” You struggle to find the words, “I’m a virgin. You should probably know that.”
You had enough common sense to know that Eddie wasn’t, judging by the pack of condoms he never bothered to put in his nightstand drawer, it seemed likely enough that he’s probably fucked a girl or two before, not that you cared. You just weren’t sure if this was the right time to be delving into uncharted territory.
“Fuck, I-” He replies, slightly breathless, “We totally don’t have to. I didn’t really expect–I just wanted to kiss you at first but Jesus–you’re fucking amazing.”
You laugh openly, falling back against the mattress. The look on Eddie’s face was priceless, something you wanted to take a picture of and remember forever. But, the way his fingers accidentally drag against you from where they were now resting against your inner thigh are enough to shake you back into reality.
“Sorry.” He says sheepishly, dragging his fingers back.
You stop him on a whim. The whim being the fact that you’re just incredibly to horny to leave with the state you were in. Fucked out, without even being fucked properly.
“We can…if you want.” You suggest tentatively. “Just for a little.”
Teenage hormones were a hell of hard thing to overcome and you were desperately losing that battle.
“If you don’t want to it’s fine–I get that you’ve never–” Eddie starts, but you emphasize by dragging his finger up your thigh and right about the waistband of your shorts–similar to the one from the day before, short and just as scandalous.
“It’s not like I’ve never touched myself before, Eddie.” You assure him, feeling the way his fingers played with the fabric teasingly. “I’m a virgin, not a puritan.”
“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He sighs, forehead resting against your shoulder. You jump at the first touch of his fingers against your bare cunt, and part of you wants to feel embarrassed about the wetness that had collected there, but you were way too horny to give a shit. “And so wet.” It comes out as a moan. A fucking moan.
It should be criminal how attractive Eddie sounds right now, fingers exploring a part of you that only you’ve ever known. He drags a single digit from bottom to top, collecting the wetness. The tightness of your shorts left little room for him to move his hand around and the contact was almost earth-shattering. He hesitates, taking a moment to circle around your clit. You sigh quietly, which he takes as a good sign, testing the motion out again, and again, until you’re practically keening from the pressure building there. The way his finger slips into you is jarring, how easily he moves past your folds, starting a slow, steady motion of guiding his fingers in and out of you, occasionally stopping to drag his fingers against the most sensitive part of your body, the only place you wanted him to be.
“Oh,” You moan softly, “fuck, please.”
Eddie could come at the sound of you, the way your voice squeaks in desperation. He chuckles softly, using his thumb to circle your clit, teasing and slow. You could get yourself there just fine, but the foreign feeling of a hand that wasn’t yours, knowing your body almost as well as you did, it was enough to have you squeezing down on his fingers in pleasure.
“More?” He asks softly, looking from his face had been resting against the middle of your chest, watching as his fingers disappeared into your shorts.
“Please.” You beg, almost desperate. His second finger joins the first, adding a nice stretch that you’ve never really felt like this. His fingers were so much bigger than your own, so much more filling. You gasp loudly at the sudden change in pace, closing your eyes in a bid to hide your own embarrassment at the sound of your own voice. When you finally pry your eyes open, Eddie is staring at you. You weren’t sure how long he had been, but his gaze is dark, hot–you want to disappear.
“I want to hear you.” He assures you, emphasizing his words by working his finger against your clit quickly, causing you to mewl in response, back arching off the bed. “You sound so pretty, princess.”
And if there was any other way to die, this is exactly how you wanted to go out.
The pressure builds and builds, Eddie finding every way to pull sounds out of you, some you didn’t even know you were capable of. You can feel the way he’s absently, but still gently, grinding against your leg, where he’d maneuvered himself after a while, in hopes of relieving some of the pressure off of his own issue. You could tell he was holding back, which made you feel slightly guilty.
The thought is immediately interrupted by your orgasm washing over you out of the blue, fast, nearly knocking you out from the feeling that spreads throughout your entire body. Eddie works you through the end, even when your body is oversensitive and tingling.
“Jesus Christ.” You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
“Nah, just me.” He says cheekily, grinning.
You reach for the clasp on his belt on instinct, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “It’s fine.” He laughs softly, “Besides, the second you touch my dick, I’m done for.”
It’s absurd, but it makes you giggle to yourself.
“I’ll take care of it later.” He admits, adjusting the front of his jeans to provide relief. The thought of him in bed, dick in hand, had you squeezing your thighs together shamelessly.
“O-Okay.” You reply, pushing yourself up as he moved off of you. “Well, thanks—I guess?”
You both fall into a fit of laughter immediately, not finding any reason to ignore how ridiculous you felt. Not to mention that way your heart twisted at the way Eddie’s grin reached from ear to ear. It wasn’t a new thing exactly, Eddie smiled a lot, but you knew this one was reserved for both of you, and that had your stomach doing back flips.
“My pleasure.” He replies, putting on a fancy, pretentious accent. “Princess.”
“Why princess?” You ask curiously, wondering where the name fits in for you.
“I don’t know,” Eddie shrugs, sitting back on his heels, “You've always been little miss ‘pretty and perfect’ to me—smart, and you don’t really put up with anyone’s shit—I almost didn’t believe it when you asked me to sell weed to you that first time.”
“Thought I was gonna rat you out, huh?” You ask teasingly.
“Maybe just a little.” He admits, holding his thumb and pointer finger an inch from each other. You toss a pillow at his head, he takes the hit like a champ, throwing it softly back at you.
⋆·˚ ༘ *
You two spend the next couple weeks studying off and on, not really bothering to avoid hanging out at school. Dustin actually enjoyed it; since he practically worshiped Eddie and you were another friend he had to talk to, not that Mike Wheeler wasn’t sufficient enough, his mind was just flooded with girls and Dustin was so far from the precipice of females.
Even if you spent half of your study sessions making out, you still managed to get enough work done that Eddie was making a little improvement—not to mention the look on Ms. McNally’s face when she called him out in class and he answered her question correct—you would’ve thought hell had finally froze over. Study sessions went from a weekend basis, to Eddie showing up to your shift at Family Video to ask about a question on the homework on any given day, not trying to hide the fact that he wanted another reason to talk to you outside of school.
“If you manage to help him graduate, it will be a miracle.” Steve says one day, leaning in as Eddie left the store.
You show up at his door that night, ready for another one of your tedious study sessions. But he’s answering the door before you have a chance to think.
“My uncle’s home.” He tells, looking back over his shoulder. You’d gotten lucky with the past couple of weeks, timing your visits almost perfectly, so that they aligned with his uncle’s work schedule. But, you weren’t sure what to do now.
“Well, we can just study—it’s fine.” You tell him quietly, “or I can come over tomorrow?”
“No.” He all but blurts out, “Sorry—we, we can just take my van. I know a spot where we can go.”
You’re hesitant at first, but you agree—it’s Eddie, you knew it would be fine.
His van is incredibly spacey, to your surprise. It made a lot of sense, though. You could tell he’d had more than a few smoke sessions based on how it practically reeked of weed and his cologne. When you’re stopped at the spot—a wide expanse of trees covering a large area and a giant skull shaped rock in the middle, he swings the back doors open, giving you a better view of his setup.
“Skull rock, Eddie? Seriously?” You deadpan, climbing out of the passenger seat and to the back of his van.
“What?” He asks innocently, hands flying out to his side in question. “It’s a great spot.”
You could point out every surface that Steve had made out with a girl on that rock, from memory—despite wanting to know, Steve just hated keeping his sexcapades to himself sometimes. Either way, you couldn’t complain. It was quiet, secluded, you didn’t have to worry about anyone finding Eddie toking up in the back if he so decided, even if you didn’t plan to partake. And part of you knew, not much study was going to take place anyways.
“Can I draw you?” You ask randomly, Eddie peering at you from where he’s perched on the edge of his van. “Sorry, that was really forward—I just—“
“Sure.” He agrees, moving deeper inside the van, the night sky nearly swallowing the van whole. If it weren’t for the overhead lights, you wouldn’t be able to see more than a couple inches in front of your face, luckily they lit the interior up well enough.
“How do you want me, Picasso?” He asks, flaring his jacket out.
“Just sit—and, what are you doing?” You laugh, watching as he knelt down, chin on his fist, a goofy attempt at a heroic pose.
“Too much?” He asks, but he doesn’t need the answer. He can tell by the amused look on your face, so he shifts onto his backside, legs spread out slightly, one lifted up so his foot was planted in the floor.
“Act like we’re in your room, talking—just be comfortable.” You remind him, letting the pencil feel out the paper.
And you don’t think you’ve ever heard Eddie stay so quiet, for so long. But he’s watching you, just as much you had been watching him, fiddling with his rings occasionally.
“Something on your mind?” You ask curiously, about halfway through the sketch, “I can see the gears turning in your head.”
“Just thinking.” He says quietly, eyes still locked on yours. “I don’t want to distract you, though.”
Though, that was really the plan all along—so you took the bait.
“No, tell me.” You demand, setting the pencil and book down.
He chuckles to himself, “I’m just thinking about how I wanna kiss you right now.”
You smile knowingly, a little shy now by how intently he’s looking at you. “Then why don’t you?”
And like a dam breaking, he’s on you instantly, hands gripping under your thighs to lay you down on the blanket that was covering the expanse of the back of his van.
“Wait, the doors.” You tell him through quick kisses. “Close the doors.”
And you’re right. The last thing you need is someone walking up on two high school students getting hot and heavy in the back of a van. The doors slam shut and he’s finding his way back to you, eyeing your mouth greedily. Eddie had gotten more and more comfortable with maneuvering you around how he wanted, knowing just how to have you begging for more and more.
His mouth leaves yours, kissing the underside of your chin, your neck, the small part of your chest that was exposed to him. He wanted to worship you in every way and form possible. He’s got his dick pressed against your core, still jailed by the confines of his jeans, the coldness of the chain he had attached to his pants, the one bearing factor that was keeping you grounded. Otherwise, you probably would have left the planet already.
“Wanna taste you so bad.” He groans against your neck, free hand coming up to rest against your cheek, stroking the delicate skin. “Please?”
“Yeah,” You rush out, licking your suddenly too dry lips, “only if you let me taste you too.” You slip your hands in the waistband of your sweatpants, pushing them and your underwear down in one go. You definitely want to feel ashamed, but you can’t help yourself. He freaking out at the thought of your mouth around him, you could say the same for yourself.
You expect him to delve right in, devour you immediately, but he stills himself. He mumbled something into the inside of your thigh, you try not to think about it too much, opening your legs a little wider. He’s nipping and biting at the most sensitive parts of your skin, watching you squirm in anticipation.
And when the flat of his tongue finally makes contact with your core, you moan unabashedly, reveling in the feeling. His nose nudges at your clit, and the sounds—god, the sounds. You blushed a particular shade of red, ashamed at how well your body was responding to his touch.
“So pretty and perfect.” He says against your cunt, “Just like I suspected.”
You laugh at the absurdity of it all, moaning when he sneaks a finger up to join with the work his mouth couldn’t cover. He was working you up, he wanted you to come, but the fact that he already had you 1-0 was a crime and that just wouldn’t suffice.
He grabbed your hands, which had been laying useless at your side, and guided them to the beautiful mane of hair attached to him. You wrapped your fingers around the hair at tugged, ever so softly. The look on his face as he pulled back was something you’d never soon forget, mouth covered in your clear slick, his tongue reaching out to lick his bottom lip.
“Wanna suck your dick, Eddie.” You begged. “Please.”
The look of pleading you gave him had him melting in your hands. He wordlessly lifted himself to his knees, wasting no time to undo the buckle of his belt. You helped him along the way, unzipping and pulling at the waistband of his jeans. When you finally found the chance to switch positions, he was already pulling the top of his underwear underneath his ass, but you couldn’t be bothered to wait any longer. You moved on instinct, grabbing his dick in your hand and tugging on the shaft gently, testing his body out.
Even though you didn’t have much to compare it to, Eddie Munson still had the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen.
“Shit, say that again.” He groans, watching you lean forward to kiss at the tip. You hadn’t realized you even said that aloud until he was staring down at you, completely wrecked by the idea of you finding his dick pretty.
“It’s so pretty and perfect.” You tease, licking the underside of his dick in one, long stripe.
He curses audibly, head banging against the metal of the van.
You take him carefully, slowly. Maybe you’re doing everything wrong, but the moan that escapes him proves otherwise. His hand curls around the back of your head gently, guiding and setting a pace. He’s showing you what he likes, so you give it to him. You’re careful not to scrape against his shaft with your teeth, using your tongue to trace slow circles around the tip before swallowing him down in one go, it was a lot more than you could initially handle, it makes your eyes water and you pull back for a moment to catch your breath.
“Sorry, too much.” You apologize halfheartedly and Eddie gives you an incredulous look, both mesmerized and completely caught off guard.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He breaths out, eyes searching yours for a moment. “I don’t want to sound forward but I really wanna fuck you.”
If it was anyone else, they’d probably be dead. But, the way Eddie sounds almost desperate is the entire reason you’re nodding your head in earnest.
“Yeah. Yeah, we can do that.” You agree, despite how terrified the thought made you feel.
“We can stop if it’s too much for you.” Eddie tells you, sincerity ringing through. “I’m serious.”
You nod, “I’m good, I swear.”
⋆·˚ ༘ *
Eddie has you wedged in between the makeshift pillow he made and himself, laid out comfortably on your side, naked from head to toe, and you try not to linger on the way he’s staring at your breasts, or the hand that’s running between your legs, dipping into your folds again. You adjust yourself slightly, legs widening at the touch. He’s gentle and you want to cry at the thought that someone would want to take so much care with you. He fingers you open slowly, swallowing your moans throat deep, lingering kisses that you never want to end. You can hear the wrapper crinkle between you, watching as pulls away to rip it open with his teeth.
Mesmerized as he rolls the condom down his shaft, you clench at the idea of him being inside. You didn’t want to think anymore, letting your body run on autopilot.
“We can go slow. Just tell me what feels good.” He reminds you, hiking your leg up against his hip, positioning himself at your entrance. You nod silently, bracing yourself. Your hand wraps around his wrist where he’s caressing your head, letting the slow, stretching feeling of him pushing inside take over your body. It stings, but barely—you nod again, looking up to let him know that this was okay, that you were okay.
He gradually picks the pace up, once he’s finally seated inside you and you’re accustomed to the feeling of him. It wasn’t until then that you realized just how noisy Eddie could be—moaning every obscenity under the sun into mouth as you swallowed up everyone with a kiss, gasping for air when he grazed your clit with his thumb from where it had been resting against your hip bone.
You can feel the way he’s holding back, not sure how much you could take. He’s gripping you tight, and you attempt to break him from whatever daze he’s locked himself into.
“Eddie, it’s fine.” You say breathlessly, “I can take it.”
And like that, he releases you, maneuvering you onto your back to adjust himself over you, pulling himself out to adjust before he’s careful thrusting back in, hand tucked under the soft skin at the back of your knee, bearing the weight you couldn’t bother to hold up.
He leans forward and mouths at your breasts, taking the time to graze his teeth against the tip of the the soft bud of your nipple, causing a gasp to bubble out of your chest. “Do that again.” You beg.
He laughs quietly, showing the other breast the same care, then switching back to the other. Fuck, it was so good. You’d almost been too distracted to realize the pace he’d picked up, more consistent as the sound your bodies coming together filled up the silence. That and the moans you couldn’t bother to keep quiet, mixing in with his own.
“Feel so good, princess.” He groans, mouth tucked away into your neck, mouthing at the skin there. “Squeezing my dick just right.”
Eddie has a filthy mouth, obviously. You were definitely bookmarking that for later.
“Wanna come, Eddie. Please.” You gasp, trying desperately to push back to meet the more desperate pace Eddie had set.
“Here,” He’s grabbing your hand, guiding it between the both of you, “wanna see you touch yourself, see if you can make yourself come as good as I can.”
Part of you doesn’t know how to respond, so you don’t, but you mindlessly obey the request at hand, circling your clit with your own two fingers, gasping at how sensitive you were. Fingers were one thing, but Eddie’s dick—that was something else entirely. You’re trying desperately to keep up, but Eddie can tell you’re overwhelmed, overworked, so he slips his hand against yours, helping you through the motion.
“You’re almost there, I can tell.” He murmurs against your ear, the hotness of his breath sending tingles down your entire body. “I got you.”
He moved your fingers with his, hips shaking sloppily, thrusting himself through his own climax, watching as your mouth dropped open in a wordless shout, orgasm hitting you in a flash of white, leaving you panting for breath when you came back to earth.
Eddie gives you a few minutes to settle, brushing your wild hair behind your ears and out of your face—he pulls out slowly, removing and tying the condom, discarding it in the front of the van inside of the tiny trash can nestled underneath the passenger side dash. He seems worried.
“It was good.” You assure him, hoping he wasn’t stressing over the idea of ruining anything for you. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to but if it’s anything like that, it was pretty damn good.”
He chuckles gently, his chest shaking at the motion. You finally have a clear view of some of the tattoos you never really noticed until now. Eddie had slipped his underwear back on in the process, helping you search through the flurry of mixed clothes to find your own.
“I guess I just wasn’t sure how we’d handle things after.” He says quietly, taking a seat next to. You see him reach for the pre-rolled blunt sitting in the ashtray and you grab his wrist, pulling it toward you.
“Well, do you want me to leave?” It wasn’t meant to sound harsh, Eddie didn’t seem to take it that way either.
“No.” He replies sheepishly, hands resting in his lap.
“Then stop worrying. Stop acting like you just scandalized me.” You laugh, poking his stomach. “I think we’re way past that.”
“God, because the sounds you make should be illegal and I don’t like being a one and done type of guy—“ Eddie would have gone on a tangent had you let him, but the gentle reminder you offered was enough to shut him up.
“Well, next time—“
“Next time?” He quirks up, eyebrows raised.
“Next time,” You repeat, feeling a little silly, “we’ll find out just how long the both of us can get. But, first—you gotta pass English.”
The exasperated sigh that Eddie let out was enough to have you curling forward in laughter.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” He smiles, reaching forward to kiss you, chaste and sweet.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x afab reader#i sat on this for too long and i'm starting to hate it GOODBYE#my writing#1kfic
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BLADE_Princess
…I’m glad this AU idea came along, because I’ve been in WIP hell for so long…I really needed some reward doodles that I could actually feel motivated to draw~
So about 1 in 5 Kirby AU ideas takes shape as a game concept rather than a normal narrative, and this is one of those, the first one that’s JRPG-inspired. ^^ The main protagonists are a 5-member party of villains, but these two are the central characters, whose choices can affect the outcome of the story.
Blade
The title character, who eventually becomes the most powerful in the group…due to a debilitating sickness that slowly destroys her mind and body. After losing her home, family, and entire civilization to similar strains of bio-magical warfare, she alone is resurrected by a strange wizard and his evil allies, and agrees to take part in their plans.
During the story, Blade is continually confronted with memories of her past, and the destruction wrought by her happy family on the rest of the universe. She starts to wonder whether they all deserved to be exterminated, as her illness progresses and the idea that she should rejoin them consumes her thoughts. Meanwhile, she gradually loses control over her actions in the present, and in the end is torn between begging her adoptive father for help, or using the last of her self-awareness to take him down with her, for dragging her into this hell in the first place.
+++
In this AU I really tried to break away from my usual depictions of the characters, and I think going from my usual portrayal of Dark Matter Swordsman as a classic “crouching moron hidden badass” to this more somber, sensitive character is probably the most dramatic example here. ^^; A little of that old characterization remains, however, as she’s not much of a deep thinker…she only joins the adventure because war is all she understands, and because Magolor really does remind her of her own father. Whether she remains fully loyal to him, or tries to choose a different path before the end, is up to the player, I guess. ^^;
Magolor
The secondary protagonist, and the leader of the group. After his previous attempt at world domination centuries earlier, he’s back for a second try, and this time he’s assembled a whole team of formerly-defeated villains to help him out…including a strange alien girl that, until now, he had written off as a failed experiment.
During the story, he comes to realize that the universe has changed a lot since his younger days, and that maybe his ultimate goal of taking it all for himself might not satisfy him as much as he’d hoped. Whether this shifts his priorities or makes him more hungry for destruction, desperate to feel something, is up to the player. And whether he decides to show concern for Blade’s suffering, or purposely take advantage of it to accelerate his plans…is also up to the player. ^^
+++
Since I’ve written so many Magolors over the years (I think I’ve done at least 10…I do have a problem, yes) I’ve formulated a basic breakdown of the essential aspects of his character: Charisma, Deception, Sweetness, Fury, and Bloodthirst. So every time I make a new Magolor, I try to emphasize different ones.
For example, for Dream Alliance Magolor I downplayed Fury and removed Bloodthirst entirely, creating a very heroic and likeable version of him to serve as the main protagonist. This time, I’m going to downplay Charisma and remove Sweetness…so I’m sure you can guess what this version of Magolor is like. ^^;
By default, he doesn’t really care about Blade, and reciprocates her concern for him only as far as it helps him manipulate her. I don’t think seeing her in pain would actually affect him emotionally (he’d probably just be wondering how much longer she’ll be useful…); what would get to him is her flipping the script and lashing out at him, even if she ends up backing down. Y’know, some tangible proof that his influence is having an effect on her, and that, in a strange way…she might be the only person left in the universe who still cares enough about him to truly be hurt by him.
#anyway we'll return to this on my next break#kirby#gijinka#au#BLADE_Princess#dark matter swordsman#magolor#tw vomit
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2023 Art Summary 🥳
January remains my most emotional piece. I was processing grief during the one year anniversary of losing a close family member. And it’s apparently the only painting I did this year LOL
After that is where I went back to studying fairytale art. February being a NieR recreation of Arthur Rackham’s The Romance Of King Arthur artwork
Then as for march, that’s where I started to study Henry Clarke and essentially lost my mind for the rest of the year with linework ✌️😩
I had two favs from October so they both go in 🫶
And as for November and December I’ve hit my burnout + busy with health and holidays LOL. Not forcing an illustration just to have one so there’s all my silly little doodles ✌️
Honorable mention is the savanaclaw set I did this year! Wasn’t something I planned on but I had fun making it and it think it’s my most popular set this year. I was surprised so many people liked it 😆
The next photo is a comparison of how I drew FG Ruggie last year compared to this year. I wanted to show the comparison to explain my shift in focus in my illustrations. After studying Clarke’s work I realized I was having fun creating again. Not to say I’m not satisfied with how the older Ruggie piece came out but I found myself often frustrated with it trying to make sure everything was “drawn right” for lack of a better explanation. It was a chore. I’ve come to find I enjoy making illustrations now with the mindset of “how do I want to convey this” rather than “how accurate can I make these details”. Drawing the newer Ruggie was enjoyable the entire time. My focus wasn’t accurate details or semi realistic but rather what emotion could I convey with just these lines and limited color. And that’s how I’ve been moving forward with my art as of late. It’s been fun again
Because of my newfound confidence and enjoyment of creating again I’ve gone back to traditional sketching too. It used to feel so constricted for me but now with loose lines and a loose mindset I’ve been scribbling all over notebooks again 😆
All this ramble to say I’m satisfied with what I’ve done this year. My health needs to start taking priority come 2024 but I hope to still create and share in the new year ✌️ If you took the time to read all this, thank you 🙏
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have you ever written about the avulsion scene btw? bc you are very right and i always rotate in my head. so much going on there.
i think the first port of call for understanding the avulsion chapter is thinking of it as a rehearsal of sorts for the end of the book (or foreshadowing, if you prefer)—the three key agents are harrow, gideon, and cytherea, harrow ‘batterises’ gideon in a process that preempts that of full-on lyctorhood*, gideon ‘dies,’ cytherea mitigates this relationship between harrow & gideon that eventually becomes the conditions of subjugation that lead to that ‘death’ becoming possible, homoeroticism is there. harrow emerging naked with almost all of her hair singed off preempts cytherea emerging from the sickroom post-getting exploded; cytherea and harrow essentially swap places in a configuration which highlights gideon’s loyalty-slash-subjugation-slash-homoeroticism as shifting from being directed towards cytherea to being directed towards harrow. cytherea is this kind of … active narrative ingredient, ironically for the very thing she’s trying to prevent (and doing so badly. Flop queen), in that the narrative demands that gideon reach a point wherein she can kill herself for harrow, but cytherea is necessary to initiating the process by which she can get there and making clear the terms on which it has to happen.
*obviously ‘full-on lyctorhood’ is a combination of eight different practices, but the text draws our attention to the idea that avulsion is the most direct and immediate commonality at least of those we’re exposed to. the fight between silas and ianthe towards the end & the idea that silas of all those present would be the one to reject lyctorhood outright (on theological grounds, no less) gains its kind of narrative compulsion in part on the basis that silas’ position is a contradiction in terms; that soul-siphoning, and by extension whatever they were doing during avulsion, is the most immediate articulation of the lyctorhood process (batterisation!), that the practice was developed by mercy and cristabel, the latter of whom was of course was the most fervent devotee of The Process out of all the early disciples—like, what galvanises the eighth house (discursively speaking) is a contradictory tension between zealotry and heterodoxy, devotion and heresy, so it stands to reason that the eighth house trial would take a form closest to what lyctorhood actually ‘is’ only for its practitioners to reject lyctorhood outright. anyway that’s enough eighth house sidetracking lol—
—the driving force throughout gtn is this process of gideon ‘learning’ cavalierhood; i’ve written before about this question of categories, taxonomies, socially enforced vs socially maligned relationships wherein to make sense of oneself within these essentially imperial categories and act accordingly is to act as grist for the imperial mill (and in turn open up a bunch of questions about what conditions are needed to sustain the particular imperialism that tm evokes, which tldr is rape and death and hegemonic discursive ownership over both), and gtn is laying the groundwork for the sorts of questions that the rest of the series goes on to interrogate (as in like, how do these conditions come about? how are they enforced and to what end? why is edgar allan poe there? what about the new zealand of it all?). so if we understand avulsion chapter as a key step in that ‘learning’ process (ie. one in which gideon voluntarily subjects herself to the siphoning, which both implicitly legitimises harrow’s desire for lyctorhood in ways that she hadn’t before been willing to do and posits her as an active participant), we can treat the chapter as able to reveal particular key points of discourse around what lyctorhood is supposed to ‘represent,’ what it ‘does’ in the text and what kind of conclusions it points to.
so obviously i’ve done the whole “locked tomb is lolita” thing to death by now, but—lyctorhood, and avulsion as a rehearsal of lyctorhood, anchors itself in what is very simply just a literalisation of nabokov’s discourse. where nabokov figures humbert as coveting an ‘immortality’ afforded to him through reverence within the literary canon and then figures dolores haze as a muse-type figure who can be raped, killed, reconfigured as equally timeless, but necessarily remain dead and extant only on the terms of humbert himself through his literary discourse. lyctorhood as immortality through the batterisation of another person is just … this, put into literal terms, and this is the entryway through which we can think about the series as heavily thematically concerned with sexual violence articulated through these vectors of death, necromancy, reanimation … anyway, avulsion is kind of an overture to these themes that are going to go on to shape the whole series.
& like, avulsion posits a relationship between batterisation/siphoning/lyctorhood (which is ofc to say Lolita Discourse), (homo)eroticism, and exploitation. when i wrote about the use of don quixote in gtn i spent a little time with how gideon & cytherea’s whole situationship was constituted on these essentially chivalric grounds and thus introducing some key questions re: the relationship that chivalry holds not only to a specifically catholic imperialism but also to lesbian gender formations and how lesbian masculinity in particular is often made sense of on the terms set by chivalry with all its problematising implications. i think this is especially prominent in avulsion, which you can read as something of a ‘wounded knight’/lady setup (obviously ironised by the fact that this is a situation very much engineered by cytherea herself); there’s an erotic-romantic undercurrent running through how cytherea talks to gideon (“good girl,” “darling,” the hair-stroking) which works in tandem with the kind of flirtation-chivalric seduction that’s characterised their relationship up until that point to suggest that being the object of that kind of seduction can be made equivalent to subjecting oneself to avulsion, and by extension that the erotic logics of that seduction bear a relationship to lyctorhood. (similar to how, like, protesilaus as puppeted corpse cavalier—loveday as dead and batterised cavalier—gideon as effectively cavalier to cytherea before she un-defects back to harrow draws the three of them into one another’s orbits to make a narrative claim about how to be beguiling corpse’d is to be lyctorhood batterised is to be whatever chivalric butch/femme thing gideon and cytherea were doing. metaphors innit.) this then opens up the v broad questions of sexual subjectivity, the body as instrumentalised (& as imperial cannon fodder), sexuality as a site wherein that instrumentalisation can take place, and sexual violence & its attendant metaphors that the series then tackles in far greater detail elsewhere. like, again, it’s an overture for the kind of thematics we then see developed further throughout the other two books.
so tldr avulsion is this kind of microcosm/overture for themes that characterise the rest of the series & we can pick it apart accordingly. it’s maybe a reach to call avulsion an out-and-out rape metaphor, but certainly it introduces something which is later posited as equivocal to rape for the purpose of tethering otherwise disparate practices of violence and exploitation back to the common denominator of conditions by which the internal configuration of the imperialist social body is sustained and made sense of.
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I remember there was a version of ur sons with horns & stars & he had a visible body
how come u changed him? Tbh I liked him better that way :(
as much as I dislike change, there are reasons his design shifted other than “because I felt like it”
That old design was used during a time I wasn’t in the best mental state. I affected one of my friends & made him extremely uncomfortable, all because I idolized them too much. Now that I grew from that mentality, I try not to carry most of that stuff with me. Looking at that old design of my sona makes me cringe in a bad way, because it reminds me what I’ve done & used him for.
Oh and also bc whilst moving to tumblr, I wanted to simplify my sona to be more quick & easy to draw with how much I’d draw him
those are only a few of the reasons 💃
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Pink Horrors of Tzeentch, bound to copper masks
I've been building and painting the start of my Tyranids Hive Fleet for the past three months, and towards the end of November I realized I needed a break. Plus, I'd be traveling to an artist residency program in rural Colombia and I knew I'd want something else to do while I was there. So I decided to build a squad of pink horrors but with an eerie and minimalist twist.
Now if you've seen Games Workshop's Pink Horror models, you'd know they're pretty much dogshit. Their faces are more orkish than daemonic, they have these strange long proportions that don't have much weight to them, and despite their ever-shifting chaotic nature, they look like just a stack of little dudes they look like a stack of little dudes with more arms than usual. They’d fit better in an old Betty Boop cartoon than on the battlefield of the 41st millennium. My goal for this project was the present an aesthetic for Tzeentch that fits with my own taste in monstrosity — blank-eyed every-shifting mounds of flesh that hover on the boundary between symbolism and raw horror.
My journal quickly filled up with drawings of weird masked monsters in the margins. My inspiration came from cubism, along with movies like Mirrormask and Ruban Brandt: Collector. I also was heavily inspired by the copper face on the Abominable Intelligence by John at Ex Profundis. I got really into the idea of the masks as some sort of binding vessel for the Tzeentchian cultists, who could use the daemons as attack dogs by trapping them within copper plates. I wasn't sure if I wanted the models to be 40K or Age of Sigmar, so I tried to keep the designs agnostic and avoid any technology or mechanical bits.
I knew I wanted to use the pink horror model as a base, but that the number and consistent size of arms would be insufficient for my needs. To make sure my little guys had all the arms they needed, I picked up a box of Mantic Games Zombie Horde. This box comes with forty zombies, and most of the arms are perfect and usable, meaning I’ve got about 72 human-sized arms to accompany the much larger horror arms of my gribblies. Towards the end I also picked up a box of blue horrors, so that I can expand my Tzeentch army once I’m done with my infinite ‘Nids.
I made the mask from a couple different pieces of plastic. At first I used these clear disks I had, but they gave the models a “bobble-head” look which… I didn’t hate, but did obscure the size of the horror and make it look a bit too tiny. For later masks, I took the base of the zombie, tidied it up, and carved a face into it. I intentionally kept the faces very minimalist, focusing on just the bare necessities: two eye-holes, a little slit mouth, and a single haphazard nose.
I focused on a very improvisational building approach — using a base of either green stuff blob or a pink horror body, which I then superglued the mask onto and then applied as many arms and legs as I could reasonably manage. Often I would trim an arm straight off the spruce and barely clean it before attaching it on, meaning there's a few moldlines or sprue bits that I can't help but stare at. I think if I was to repeat this process I'd trim all the parts and set them aside before I even started working, but I also had no clue how this would go and was just enjoying the process as a way to decompress after a wildly hectic week.
Once the models were all done, I spraypainted them all white and tossed them in a box with me to Colombia, where they got damaged during transit and had to piece a couple back together with superglue.
I painted the bodies with two layers of Volupus Pink contrast paint, followed by a drybrush of 1 part Red to 3 parts White.
I painted the masks with Gunmetal followed by a wash of 1 part Orange to 1 part Mid Brown wash. Then I did a Dark wash with some streaking, followed by a Verdigris effect paint to get that gunky green rust effect at the edges of the copper.
I painted the jewelry and various instruments / standards gold, and did the gems in red with a pink highlight. I did the nails and teeth in white, the tongues in a very light pink mix, and the feathers a light green mix followed by a dark wash. I hope to return to the feathers later to give them more detail if I ever end up doing a Lord of Change, as in my head I imagine those feathers are small gifts from it to its most loyal minions. The fire is yellow, orange, and red, and the OSL was done by mixing the contrast pink with orange.
The bases are admittedly an afterthought — I'm in rural Colombia right now and so I can't finish them the way I want to. I'm planning to pick up some resin cobblestone bases and candles, so I can make the models look like they're inside a weird cultist basement, skittering around in the darkness. There's a lot of lessons I've learned for next time I paint models like these, and this was my first time working with contrast paint, but it was still a ton of fun and I'm proud of how they turned out!
#tzeentch#pink horror#daemon#warhammer 40k#miniature painting#squad#painting#masks#mirrormask#ruben brandt#28mmwargaming#kitbash
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I was tagged in this by tumblr user @nongnaos , thank you 🍓🍓 I'm not sure who has or hasn't done this yet but if you see this consider yourself tagged!!
RULES: bold the ones that are true and tag some people to do it.
APPEARANCE
Blonde hair // I prefer loose clothing to tight clothing // I have one or more piercings // I have at least one tattoo // I have dyed or highlighted my hair // I have gotten plastic surgery // I have or had braces // I sunburn easily // I have freckles // I paint my nails // I typically wear makeup // I don’t often smile // I am pleased with how I look // I prefer Nike to Adidas // I wear baseball hats backwards
I don't like baggy clothes but I like flowy outfits. As in:
I don't wear any makeup. I'm pleased with the way I look or more like I fully stopped caring when my endometriosis became a daily struggle. I can't tell nike from adidas, brands are like the least interesting thing in the world.
HOBBIES AND TALENTS
I play a sport // I can play an instrument // I am artistic // I know more than one language // I have won a trophy in some sort of competition // I can cook or bake without a recipe // I know how to swim // I enjoy writing // I can do origami // I prefer movies to tv shows // I can execute a perfect somersault // I enjoy singing // I could survive in the wild on my own // I have read a new book series this year // I enjoy spending time with friends // I travel during work or school breaks // I can do a handstand
I played the euphonium for a long time. I can't draw for shit but I guess I am somewhat artistic in other ways. I have native or full professional proficiency in three languages. I can't swim. I like writing but my health issues have been preventing me from engaging in it :( I like spending time with people but I need to rest afterwards.
RELATIONSHIP
I am in a relationship // I have been single for over a year // I have a crush // I have a best friend who I’ve known for ten years // my parents are together // I have dated my best friend // I am adopted // My crush has confessed to me // I have a long distance relationship // I am an only child // I give advice to my friends // I have made an online friend // I met up with someone I have met online
I'm married. We've been together for most of our adult lives. The long distance came unexpectantly because I got very sick and my spouse was transferred to a post where he has to live in a dorm. We have a house together so this was very much not the plan but I hope and pray we can go back to normal next year.
AESTHETICS
I have heard the ocean in a conch shell // I have watched the sun rise // I enjoy rainy days // I have slept under the stars // I meditate outside // the sound of chirping calms me // I enjoy the smell of the beach // I know what snow tastes like // I listen to music to fall asleep // I enjoy thunderstorms // I enjoy cloud watching // I have attended a bonfire // I pay close attention to colors // I find mystery in the ocean // I enjoy hiking on nature paths // autumn is my favorite season
In Finland it's easy to watch the sun rise because it rises either at 2 am or 11 am lol. I'd often sleep in a tent as a kid but technically there weren't any stars because it was summer and too bright to see them. I actually had a hard time stopping eating snow as a kid. It's very addictive when you're a kid in the subarctic. I can still recall the test of fresh snow, it was so goooood haha. If you're wondering whether I've also tried to lick a frozen pole and gotten stuck, the answer is yes. As for bonfires, I used to attend my grandpa's pääsiääsvalakia every easter.
MISCELLANEOUS
I can fall asleep in a moving vehicle // I am the mom friend // I live by a certain quote // I like the smell of sharpies // I am involved in extracurricular activities // I enjoy Mexican food // I can drive a stick shift // I believe in true love // I make up scenarios to fall asleep // I sing in the shower // I wish I lived in a video game // I have a canopy above my bed // I am multiracial // I am a redhead // I own at least 3 dogs
I don't have much experience with authentic mexican food but I generally can't digest spicy hot food well :(
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okay—thoughts on the tennant reveal
for one: a lot of people are calling tennant the fourteenth doctor. he’s not. just…full stop, he’s not. he’s confirmed for only three episodes of the next season. ncuti gatwa is the fourteenth doctor.
two: for fans of jodie’s run (of which i would include myself!), i’ve heard of lot of people saying that introducing tennant takes away from jodie’s final episode and ncuti’s first episode. and while i understand that feeling—every regeneration episode is meant to be a fresh start, an overshadowing if you will. especially when it’s a switch between showrunners. as the head writer leaves, they leave open big gaps for the next showrunner’s planned storyline to keep viewers engaged. it’s smart marketing. think of the big switch from rtd to moffat or the switch from moffat to chibnall. huge tone shifts bc, as many dw fans consider, these are eras of the show—new starting points that basically soft reboot the show.
three: doctor who has always relied on references to its past material. even in ten’s run! there were callbacks to older seasons from the original series—they brought back sarah jane—they even did crossover episodes between companions. it’s not that shocking of a thing to see old doctors come and go
four: every regeneration scene is always trying to one up the previous. as an audience we know what to expect from regeneration scenes so the writers are constantly trying to think up twists to catch us off guard. the doctor regenerating into a past regeneration? yeah! i’d call that a surprise! do twists make for good writing—not really—but it’s not new for doctor who and it certainly isn’t done with some malicious intent towards jodie or ncuti. plus—most of this is set up for the 60th! the 50th had huge plot lines with old doctors meeting each other too!
finally: introducing tennant back and rtd as a showrunner is exciting for a lot of people. does nostalgia come into play here? absolutely. but it is undeniable that under rtd, the show was super strong. moffat ran during the infamous superwholock era, but the show notoriously lost a lot of viewership post-matt smith’s run. jodie’s introduction + the introduction of a new showrunner picked viewership up a bit more for sure..but once it became clear that chibnall’s writing was…subpar at best..viewership declined. hence why we saw them pulling out all the stops in series 12 to bring viewers back, and sadly giving jodie barely a final season and more a series of specials.
i do genuinely believe that under chibnall, regardless of who was playing the doctor, this would’ve happened anyway. jodie was a magnificent doctor, and her portrayal is by far not the reason why people have disliked her run and look forward to rtd’s writing. rtd has done more than just write a very beloved era of doctor who. he’s also just a very strong showrunner/writer in general. is he perfect? no! but he has a strong track record which fans know of and trust..which gets them back.
so he brings back tennant and catherine tate to bring people back in—for marketing security—and then he gets to go all out with a new era…starring ncuti! this fresh spark is exactly what the show needs, regardless of what you thought of the past three seasons. and does it suck that we have to draw on older seasons to make that happen? of course. but will it (hopefully) lead to some amazing stuff down the line? i do genuinely think so.
so please don’t take people the wrong way when they say they’re excited for the new era of doctor who. it’s not to undermine jodie in any way, and she will be missed. she, in my humble opinion, deserved a stronger showrunner for her run, just as i believed peter capaldi deserved better marketing for his season (cause there was some decent writing in there. series 10 is super underrated).
here’s to a new doctor! ncuti gatwa, i’m ready for you king! 👑
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So normal about this commission I got from @trekkerac <33
It's a scene from my oc x canon fic "Vulpecula & Lacerta" on AO3 :>
In short: Slushie has had enough of being a useless crybaby and wants to learn to fight to protect herself and others, and Espio doesn't think she can do it. He turns invisible and reappears with the kunai against her throat. She pushes it away, absolutely determined to prove her worth.
I'll drop the whole scene under the cut <3
Vector was half-asleep in his chair, and Espio was meditating in the corner. They roused when Slushie entered the room.
“Hello, thanks again for, you know, saving the world and all”, she smiled nervously.
Vector waved it off.
“Eh, it’s what we’re here for. What’s up?”
Slushie sat down on the couch and considered her words for a moment.
“I’m here to make a trade.”
“Trade? What’cha got in mind?”
“I can make you ads, draw composites, bake things and maybe even clean, whatever you need.”
“And..?”
She tightened her trembling fists.
“I want you to teach me how to fight.”
“I’m against it”, Espio immediately pointed out, getting properly seated as well. He looked at her with sharp, analytical, and slightly disappointed eyes.
“C-can you tell me why?”
“I saw how you acted during the pandemic. You were always crying. You stood behind everyone else, not able or willing to do anything. You’re naïve, emotional, and a little too airheaded.”
She really had to fight back the tears, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of proving him right.
“That’s exactly why I’m asking. Do you think I’m proud of myself?”
Espio shifted in his seat and defiantly crossed his arms. Her eyes were icy, yet burning.
She turned to Vector.
“I’m strong. I grew up carrying trees up a mountainside. I can jump at least two stories high. I might not want to use my arms because I am an artist, but I know my legs are powerful enough to cause damage.”
“Why the sudden interest? One would think that most would want to avoid heading into action after all that happened.”
“I thought I was fine with being on the sidelines. I felt like I was finally useful when I started helping the Restoration. But when push came to shove again, I was still the useless crybaby who hid in the corner waiting for others to save her. I’m done with that. I’m done!”
She counted to 10 to calm down like she used to back in White Park, and started again.
“I don’t know how to fight, but I do know that I can learn. I just need a little training.”
“Being able to fight doesn’t mean that you can do it when it really matters”, Espio sneered again, still obviously against the idea.
“Stop grilling the girl, Espio. She’s clearly trying.”
Vector leaned forward in his chair.
“Do you think you’re capable of keeping yourself together in a moment of crisis?”
She had to think for a moment.
“I think I’ll be able to, with a little practice. I’ve done a few years of customer service, if that counts.”
“Hardly.”
Espio suddenly disappeared and soon reappeared, holding a kunai against her throat.
“Can you think under pressure or when in danger?”
She gulped, but the panic in her eyes soon turned into anger again. She reached for the hand holding the weapon and pushed it away from her, despite his struggles.
She was still holding the kunai-wielding hand when she spoke to him, the searing blue fire in her eyes taking him off his guard for a brief second. She was almost snarling at him.
“I want to. So I came here.”
Her voice was low. Defiant, challenging, and, most of all, determined. She wasn’t going to let anyone underestimate her again.
Vector sighed as Espio went to sit back down.
“I guess there’s no harm in trying. And having someone who can actually draw-”
Both he and Espio briefly shot a look at Charmy. Was the 6-year old in charge of advertising and composites…?
“-would be helpful. We’d gladly accept the other offers as well.”
“Really?” both Slushie and Espio turned to ask, with opposite reactions.
“There’s no shame in trying to become better. I thought you for sure would appreciate the drive, Espio.”
“Hmph.”
“I’ll work hard to not disappoint you all.”
“Ehh, relax, kid. We’ll whip you up into a fighter yet”, Vector grinned, before realizing something.
“Wait, aren’t you officially a part of the Restoration? Why not ask them?”
“I thought about it, but...I didn’t want to bother them. They’re spread thin getting everything back in shape again. And…”
“And?” Charmy finally spoke up as well, curiously peeking out from behind the couch.
“I saw you three in action. You were really cool, and… and I wanted to be more like you. You’re fighters, but you aren’t an armored force. You’re just… yourselves, and you’re still helpful. Able to make a difference just by being brave and trying your best. Does… does that make sense?”
“I think so! Being a hero means being brave, no matter who you are!”
“The kid said it. You don’t have to join the army to help. And being among the everyday citizens makes us faster to act when needed.”
“Yeah. I promise I will do my best to get braver. Cream told me everyone has the power to change things, and that I just have to find it in myself.”
“She’s not wrong”, Espio sighed. “Let’s just hope that you’re able to do that.”
Slushie shot an annoyed look at him. He really didn’t believe in her, huh?
She chose to ignore him and walked to Vector’s desk to shake hands with him.
“You get two months, okay? If you still end up crying in the corner by the end of it, you’ll have to find something else to do. That sound good?”
“...Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to waste your time dealing with someone like that, anyway”, she managed to say with a small smile. That seemed to lift the mood slightly, and Vector gave her a good slap on the back, causing her to stumble a few steps forward.
She reminded Charmy about the cinnamon buns, and he eagerly brought them out. Espio went to make everyone some tea.
Slushie decided to leave, so they could properly figure out what to do with her.
#sth#oc x canon#commission#espio the chameleon#sonic oc#slushie the arctic fox#sluspio#SDB rambles#SDB fics#thanks for the amazing comm again btw <33
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“I build homes”
Azir has found a new purpose in building homes.
A Hawk’s nest one would say.
First there’s the House of Imani, the state home he builds for the orphans of Shurima, so no parent may ever lose their child to indenture. He cuts the ribbon himself with his long nails, and he hugs every one of his wards. There’s just seven, at the opening. But he knows more will come.
They have teachers and caretakers and guards, all of which are chosen by Nasus himself. They live as siblings.
Let them know their Emperor loves them, is the initial motto. It shifts to let them know they’re loved after he abdicates.
Then there’s Renekton’s house.
The old summer home of the imperial House, where the elders would spend their last days before a peaceful death, is repurposed for the ascended Crocodile. Much of the luxurious rooms are tore down so he may have rooms to roam, or re-purposes into rooms of arms where he can release his wrath.
Give me blood! Give me vengeance! Give me…
…peace. Give me quiet. Give me silence.
A gentle treatment rekindles Renekton’s grasp onto life and the others. He spends most of his time gorging himself in sleeping powders, tormented by hammering headaches, the remorse of his deeds and the clash between Xerath’s illusions and the painful reality of what he lost. His fighting spirits subsides, turning to self-harm and rage. He gives himself the coldest baths, trains until his body strains and sleeps for days on end when the powders hit.
Sometimes Azir comes by, the only one he lets himself be seen by. He’s tormented Azir quite enough during his imprisonment, which is enough for him not to hurt him now. He feels as if he deserves it.
Most of the times they don’t even do anything. They sunbathe, they nap, they fight, Azir plays him songs or tells him old memories.
You were always a special kid.
They say crocodile tears are insincere, but not these ones.
Days pass, then months. Renekton is but a shadow of the Butcher of the Sands, now. He’s lethargic and sullen and fretful, seeing Xerath in every lightning storm or distant gleam.
But there’s a special room in his golden prison. One where a sturdy glass is the greatest wall between him and the rest of the world.
The view isn’t that great, it’s just typical desert. Renekton knows it. But he also knows the purpose of that room, and why he can see the outside without touching it.
“Here’s where I’ll meet my brother, isn’t it?”
Azir sighs. “He truly wants to see you.”
Renekton groans, grasping onto his forehead. Beads of sweat run down his face.
“I can hardly stomach you, Azir. Sometimes I still want to rip your feathers off.”
Don’t remind me, dear uncle. “I love my brother, but for his welfare, it’s best I don’t see him. If I forget again, I… gods, why? Why did I do that?”
“Shhh, shhh. It’s going to be alright. You’re never going to end up in there again.”
Renekton hugs Azir tight, cutting his breath. Then he turns his back on him, drawing circles in the sand.
“I’ve done enough. Let me stay here, Azir. My head will kill me before him anyway.”
If you knew just how he loves you, you’d embrace him with open arms.
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hey guys
first of all, i've got some new followers, glad to se y'all, whether you're here for ukrainian or for valvert stuff, you are most welcome, don't hesitate to pop up in asks or messages or idk
пропіарюсь відразу квір українцям: я мрію про славу українського філософітьюб (ну або контри...), тому для початку я завів тікток де розповідаю українською про всілякі релевантні штуки (поки що здебільшого квірну історію і історію мистецтва але власні хоттейки теж будуть, так що якщо це ваша тема то чекніть seymour.zorya)
next, i wanted to give a quick life update
i'm 3 weeks on testosterone, yay! i've actually gone rogue and neither have the appropriate healthcare support nor i came out to my parents yet lmao but honestly living in a war puts the things into perspective. i just can't wait anymore. and honestly although there're no visible changes so far (except for me being horny, especially for a person on an aroace spectrum, and constantly rethinking my orientation lmao) i'm really really happy i'm finally doing it. i'll face a lot (and i mean a lot, our current system for medical and legal transitioning isn't very fun, although it's mostly up to money and waiting times) of shit down the line, sure, but yeah. i'm ready to do it. i finally feel like i'm doing something with my life. like i have the second chance to make everything right. that's an important feeling when you can randomly die whenever
also for the last couple of weeks in kyiv and most other parts in ukraine we have these fun times when we have electricity (and pretty much any kind of internet connection) for 5-12 hours a day, which is... going as well as it can. on the one hand i'm honestly kinda already used to it? on the other between my natural procrastination and executive disfunction and not having the electricity in the hours during which im most productive it's really hard to get any work done. sometimes i honestly just lie on the sofa with my eyes closed. so i shifted to mostly nocturnal lifestyle (like, even more than usual. electricity and internet are more often than not on after the midnight) and also if i'm honest i'm going slightly mad (tm) and coping with it in unhealthy ways but like.. whatever i'm alive i have some friends and a job and manage to draw sometimes and considering we have like up to 80 rockets fired at us a day i definitely count this as a win
#stas in kyiv#укртумбочка#укртамблер#український блог#українцівтамблері#квір#queer#trans#trans man#transmasc#ukraine
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Pour Me Your Heart
Fandom: Haikyuu!!
Premise: TsukkiYama
Word Count: 3.5k
Content Warning(s): None
A/N: This was written for the Haikyuu!! Cafe Big Bang! Check out my twt (username: mokuhchi) to see the art done by my amazing artist and special thanks to my beta as well!
Find this on my AO3 as Well
The smell of coffee beans filled the small coffee shop Tadashi Yamaguchi worked at. It was underground, led to by a flight of stairs that opened into a large room with plants growing in every nook and cranny and tables scattered about. In the corner was another room closed off by large red double doors that housed the cafe: The UnderGrounds. Artwork hung on every vertical surface ranging from children’s doodles to painting masterpieces. Practically every medium of art was represented: charcoal, chalk, pastels, watercolor…it was one of the things Yamaguchi adored about his job. Looking at the artwork and being able to display new ones was a joy Yamaguchi would never be rid of. That, and the free chai tea he was guaranteed during his shifts never hurt either. But he also loved speaking to the regular patrons, mostly college students and professors, and would converse with them as he made their drinks and drew pictures in the latte foam.
“What’s that book you’re reading about?”
“Oh! How is that art project going?”
“An extra shot of espresso? Well, it is finals week.”
No matter the topic, Yamaguchi’s personality just seemed to effortlessly draw conversation out of everyone. Something about him just felt like home.
Yamaguchi prided himself in his memory of customers, so when a newcomer arrived in the coffee shop one Thursday afternoon, he was surprised to say the least. It was the middle of the semester, so the chances of it being a new student was slim. Possibly a new professor? But that didn’t seem too quite fit either. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but wonder.
As soon as the stranger had walked through the open door, Yamaguchi asked, “So what brings you here?” The stranger stiffened slightly at his question yet continued to walk towards the counter. Most probably wouldn’t have noticed the slight change in his demeanor, but Yamaguchi noted it right away.
“I wanted coffee.” The man bluntly said. Once he had reached the counter, Yamaguchi couldn’t help but scan his features. He was pretty, with high cheekbones, golden brown eyes, and curly blond hair. He wore black glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose, and the man seemed to subconsciously push them up as he waited for Yamaguchi’s response.
“Oh, yes, of course! But I meant, what brings you here. As in, this is a small town and I’ve never seen you before. I’m just curious is all!” Yamaguchi smiled brightly.
The man sighed, as if exasperated by Yamaguchi’s questions. Yamaguchi anxiously shifted from foot to foot, not expecting this kind of response. “Well,” the man paused, “I’m a new hire at a local bookstore.”
“Ah! Well, what would you like to order?” Yamaguchi asked.
“Just black coffee.”
“Alrighty! Your total is two dollars and sixty-five cents.” The man tapped his credit card against the console and waited as Yamaguchi began to pour him a cup.
“What brought you to this town?” Yamaguchi asked. Once more, the man sighed, obviously not one for small talk. Or possibly, not one for any kind of “talk”. He ultimately just shrugged, not even dignifying Yamaguchi’s question with a worded response. Yamaguchi let the question hang between them in the air, stifling any further conversation he had been hoping for.
“What’s the name for the drink, by the way?” Yamaguchi asked on instinct.
“There’s no one else here.” The man responded.
Yamaguchi shifted in place awkwardly before saying, “Sorry, force of habit.”
“Tsukishima.”
“What?”
“My name. It’s Tsukishima.”
“I’m Yamaguchi!” Tsukishima just stared. “Anyways, here’s your coffee!” Yamaguchi handed the drink to Tsukishima, who promptly took it and walked out of the cafe. Yamaguchi took in a deep breath, before roughly exhaling through clenched teeth. He placed his head on the counter before groaning to himself; he wasn’t sure what Tsukishima’s problem was, but he didn’t like it.
The next day at work, Yamaguchi’s shift started like any other. College students poured in during the lunch hours, requesting over complicated drinks despite the rush. Luckily, Yamaguchi wasn’t by himself. His boss, Sugawara, was there making drinks as Yamaguchi took orders. But with little to no time to converse with any of the students, Yamaguchi couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He wanted nothing more than to ask how everyone was doing, but with the line leading out the door and up the stairs, he just didn’t have the luxury to. Thankfully, the lunch rush eventually ended, leaving Sugawara and Yamaguchi to catch their breath.
“That felt busier than usual,” Yamaguchi said at one point, but all Sugawara did in response was nod.
“Well, that marks the end of my shift. We won’t be getting any more rushes today since it’s Friday. You good to lock up on your own?” Sugawara said, throwing the cafe keys at Yamaguchi who fumbled them, almost dropping them in the process. Sugawara let out a small chuckle at the sight.
“And you used to play volleyball.” Sugawara laughed. Yamaguchi smiled sheepishly.
“Well, are you good to close by yourself?” Sugawara shifted the topic.
“Yeah!” Yamaguchi responded.
“Okay, well, if you need anything I only live, like, a street down.” Sugawara let out another small laugh before ruffling Yamaguchi’s hair and leaving. It was just as Sugawara walked up the stairs and out the door, did Tsukishima make his way into the cafe.
“Oh, hello again!” Yamaguchi said brightly, trying his best to not show how much his appearance irked him. Yamaguchi thought it painful how beautiful Tsukishima was; how could such a sour personality be housed in such a gorgeous person anyways?
“I’d like a latte, please.” Tsukishima said.
“Okay, would you like any latte foam art?” Yamaguchi asked. While not amazing at it, latte foam art was a hobby of Yamaguchi’s he thoroughly enjoyed. Over the past year of practicing, he’d gotten past wobbly shapes and could now draw small pictures, but it was nowhere near the talent of others.
“Surprise me.” Tsukishima smirked. Yamaguchi thought for a moment, before settling on drawing a simple cat outline. He set to work, and as soon as he finished with the drink, he handed it to Tsukishima.
“Here you go!” Yamaguchi responded.
“A cat. Cute. I have two, actually.” Tsukishima said as he looked down at the art.
“Really? What are their names?”
Tsukishima smiled to himself for a moment, most likely thinking of his two cats, before his face retreated back into its regular stony disposition. He just shrugged in response before leaving, not even dignifying Yamaguchi’s question with a response.
Yamaguchi didn’t see Tsukishima for a couple days after that, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he somehow offended Tsukishima by asking him about his pets. It wasn’t until Tsukishima came in about a week later with a “Sorry, I’ve been busy lately,” as he walked through the doorway. Yamaguchi smiled, knowing the implication that was ladened in his words; Tsukishima wanted to see him.
Tsukishima reached into his pocket, pulling out a phone in a simple black case. Yamaguchi could see him looking for something, and once Tsukishima presented his phone to Yamaguchi, Yamaguchi’s face split into a wide smile. There on the screen was a picture of two cats curled into each other, one white and the other black.
“Artemis and Luna.” Tsukishima said.
“Hm?” Yamaguchi made a questioning noise.
“Their names. Artemis and Luna.”
“Like in Sailor Moon?” Yamaguchi asked. Tsukishima didn’t seem like the kind of person to be into magical girl anime, but Sailor Moon had enthralled Yamaguchi growing up as well, so he tried to make his words sound as far away from judgmental as possible.
Tsukishima sighed. “Yeah, I used to watch it with my older brother growing up and when I got an all black cat, I knew I had to name her Luna. I got Artemis second and when I saw him, I just knew I had to name him Artemis to go along with Luna.”
“That’s cute. I also used to watch it growing up.” Yamaguchi admitted. “So, what are you ordering today?”
“A latte. Do whatever you want for the foam art.” Yamaguchi punched Tsukishima’s order into the register and began making the latte. He did a crescent moon for the foam art, feeling it fit the conversation at hand.
“Thanks.” Tsukishima said as he took the cup from Yamaguchi, as he began to head off. Yamaguchi began to clean up between customers, wondering why Tsukishima had become so chatty. It seemed out of character for the aloof man that preceded him. Especially after Tsukishima had ignored the question of his cat’s name. Yamaguchi tried not to think about it too much, but nevertheless he did.
Tsukishima began coming in more frequently after that, always ordering the same thing, ‘a latte, do whatever you want for the foam art’. Through simple conversations Yamaguchi had been able to piece together that Tsukishima had an older brother named Akiteru and no other siblings, that he worked at the local bookstore, that he was from the town over, and that he had a telescope. Yamaguchi always looked forward to their simple conversations, even if Tsukishima was still standoffish.
Then there was the day Tsukishima came in on Yamaguchi’s break. Yamaguchi had been sitting at a table, sipping on a chai tea latte as Sugawara took the orders and prepared the drinks of the customers. Yamaguchi just happened to look up as Tsukishima walked through the doorway. Yamaguchi gave a little wave and a smile, as Tsukishima walked towards him.
“Off today?” Tsukishima asked.
Yamaguchi shook his head. “No, just on break.” Tsukishima just nodded in acknowledgement. “You can join me, if you want.” Yamaguchi said. Tsukishima nodded again, before going to order. Yamaguchi shrugged to himself, hoping that he wasn’t somehow being too forward by asking Tsukishima to sit with him.
A couple minutes later, Yamaguchi heard the close sound of a chair scraping on hardwood. He picked up his head and found Tsukishima sitting across from him. They had never spoken without a counter between them, and Yamaguchi could feel the difference, the proximity. Their knees almost touched under the small table.
“You work at a bookstore, right?” Yamaguchi asked.
“Yeah,” was all Tsukishima replied.
“How come?”
“Well, it was a job that was available. And I like to read so it felt fitting. Why do you work at a coffee shop?”
“I went to high school with Sugawara, we actually played volleyball together, so when he wanted to open up a coffee shop, I said I’d help him. I’m not a co-owner or anything, all the behind-the-scenes stuff is Sugawara, I just work here.” Yamaguchi smiled. “You moved here from a neighboring town, right?”
“Yeah.”
“How come?”
Tsukishima shrugged. “Wanted to get out of the house, get my own place, I guess.”
“I live in the apartment complex down the street, it’s a pretty short walk which is nice.”
“I’m in the one across from yours, if we’re thinking of the same place.”
“We’re practically neighbors, then!” Yamaguchi let out a small laugh.
“Yeah,” a small smile crossed Tsukishima’s face. They continued to talk before Tsukishima looked at the time on his phone.
“I should head back to work,” he inevitably said.
“Yeah, I probably should too.” Yamaguchi let out a small laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, knowing for sure he went over his break time. “See you later,” he said as he stood up. “It was nice talking to you.”
Tsukishima offered a small smirk, “It was nice talking to you too.” Yamaguchi gave a parting wave as he headed into the back to grab his apron.
“You enjoy talking to that tall blond?” Sugawara said with a teasing lilt to his voice. Yamaguchi walked over as he tied his apron behind him. It was black and covered his entire front, his name tag pinned at the top.
“His name is Tsukishima. But yes, I did.”
“Do you like him?” Sugawara bumped his hip against Yamaguchi.
“As a friend, yes.” Yamaguchi rolled his eyes.
“Hm, I saw how you smiled at him. You’re definitely developing a crush.”
Yamaguchi rolled his eyes again. “Whatever you say.”
Yamaguchi quickly found out Sugawara was not wrong. Tsukishima continued to come at the same time every day, admitting once that he was trying to catch Yamaguchi on his breaks. Yamaguchi began walking to the bookstore as well, bringing coffee and snacks and hoping that Tsukishima would be able to chat.
“If you want, you could come over to my apartment and meet my cats sometime,” Tsukishima said unexpectedly one day. Yamaguchi had just arrived at the bookstore, armed with lattes and muffins. Yamaguchi stood stunned for a moment, before grinning and saying, “I’d love that! When are you off?”
“Is tomorrow too soon?” Tsukishima said.
“Not at all, I’m off tomorrow too.”
“Great. Here, give me your phone number so I can text you my apartment number.” Yamaguchi gave it to him, soon after he received a simple text message that read only ‘214’.
The next day as Yamaguchi was getting ready, he realized he was shaking. Nervousness surged through his veins like electricity, unsure of what to expect when he arrived. Yamaguchi liked familiarity; he liked knowing what would happen before it happened. Going over to Tsukishima’s apartment was uncharted territory, and it terrified him.
As the agreed upon time of 1pm rolled around, Yamaguchi was walking down the hall from the elevator to apartment 214. He softly knocked on the door, not wanting to startle Tsukishima. Tsukishima must have been waiting for him, as the door opened almost immediately after. He was dressed in casual wear, very different from his usual button down and slacks attire he wore to work. Yamaguchi had never seen Tsukishima in jeans, and something felt almost personal about it. Yamaguchi looked no different than he usually did.
“Hey, come in.” Tsukishima said, stepping aside out of the doorway to allow Yamaguchi to walk into the apartment. Immediately, he was greeted by a small fluffy white cat rubbing against his leg.
“Artemis is very friendly,” Yamaguchi said.
“Yeah, he loves people.” Tsukishima closed the door. “Luna is a bit shyer, but she’s in the living room last time I checked. Here, it’s down this hall.” Yamaguchi followed Tsukishima down a short walkway to a room with a TV, couch, and cat tree. On the highest part of the cat tree lay Luna, seemingly sleeping. Tsukishima walked over and began petting her. Luna perked up, rubbing the side of her face against his hand.
“Can I pet her?” Yamaguchi asked, pointing to Luna.
“Sure, go ahead.” Tsukishima said.
Yamaguchi walked over and began stroking her soft fur. “I’ve never had a pet cat; I’ve only ever had a dog.”
“What kind of dog?”
“Big dog. Growing up we had a Tosa Inu.”
“Oh, that’s a big dog.”
“Yeah! His name was Yoshi.”
“After the Mario character?”
Yamaguchi sighed. “Yeah, after the Mario character.” He paused. “Have you had cats before?”
Tsukishima shook his head. “No, my mom’s allergic so I never had one growing up.”
“What made you decide to get one?”
Tsukishima shrugged. “I don’t know, I've always wanted one. And after getting the first, I wanted another.” His voice was nonchalant, almost as if he didn’t care, but Yamaguchi could see a sparkle in Tsukishima’s eyes that was seldom there. They continued to talk into the evening, chatting about everything and nothing all at once. They ate together in Tsukishima’s small kitchen, their legs bumping under the table. Eventually, Yamaguchi bid Tsukishima farewell, citing his fatigue as a reason to depart. He gave Luna and Artemis final head pats before he left, Tsukishima closing the door behind him.
As soon as he exited the elevator, he called Sugawara.
“You were right, you were so right.” Yamaguchi said as soon as Sugawara answered.
“Oh whatever do you mean?” Sugawara asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“About Tsukishima. I like him. I was just over at his apartment and he has two cats and he likes dinosaurs and space and he’s just so…” Yamaguchi trailed off, struggling to find words to convey what he wanted.
Sugawara laughed. “I get it, you like him.”
“I wish I didn’t.”
“Why?”
Yamaguchi sighed. “I don’t even know if he likes guys, let alone me.”
“Try hinting to him that you like him. Or just be straightforward.” Sugawara offered.
“Okay. Okay, alright. Thanks, Suga.”
“No problem.” Yamaguchi breathed a sigh as he hung up, unlocking his apartment as he did so.
Yamaguchi decided to be subtle. He was terrified to admit his feelings explicitly, not wanting to scare off Tsukishima. Through small cues and soft conversations, Yamaguchi was able to piece together that Tsukishima had had a boyfriend before, that he was most likely gay, that he was currently single, and that maybe he had the slightest inkling of feelings for Yamaguchi, if the flirting Sugawara pointed out was anything to go by. Yamaguchi tried leaving subtle hints that he liked Tsukishima, but Tsukishima was either too dense or too oblivious to understand them. After a month of this dance, Yamaguchi was practically pulling his hair out in frustration. Yamaguchi thought back to Sugawara’s advice, and decided it was time to be as direct as he could be.
The next day when Tsukishima came in to order a latte, Yamaguchi decided to confess then and there. He poured the foam in the shape of a heart, with ‘Y+T’ written inside of it. Outside of the heart, to the right, was a question mark. Yamaguchi hoped Tsukishima would understand what he was trying to convey, and when he passed over the drink, Yamaguchi couldn’t help but notice how badly his own hand was shaking.
Yamaguchi watched as Tsukishima walked to a table, taking off the lid and looking down at the foam art. A blush graced Tsukishima’s features, covering his cheekbones and traveling down his neck. Tsukishima stared for a moment, before standing up and walking back towards Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi could feel his heart thumping in his chest and his blood thrumming through his veins.
“I need you to explain this.” Tsukishima said. Yamaguchi’s face burned. Tsukishima didn’t sound angry, more confused than anything, but Yamaguchi regretted trying to convey his feelings.
“I like you.” Yamaguchi took a deep breath. “As more than a friend. I wanted to confess but was scared to tell you, so I tried doing it this way.”
Tsukishima nodded, biting his lip for a moment, thinking. “Okay.” Yamaguchi’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.
“Would you like to go on a date some time?” Tsukishima asked. Yamaguchi stood stunned.
“What?”
“Well you like me, and I like you, so would you like to go on a date?”
“Yeah!” Yamaguchi said a little too excitedly.
“Great, when would you like to and what would you like to do?”
Yamaguchi sat on the couch in his apartment, waiting for Tsukishima to arrive for their first date. He chewed at his nails as he watched TV, already having set up everything he could for their date.
As soon as there was a knock at the door, Yamaguchi was turning off the TV and running towards the front of his apartment. He quickly unlocked it and found Tsukishima on the other side with a faint blush covering his features.
“Welcome to my apartment,” Yamaguchi said, stepping aside and ushering him in.
“So you’re going to teach me how to make latte foam art?”
“That’s the plan!” Yamaguchi smiled as he closed the door behind Tsukishima. Yamaguchi did his best to instruct Tsukishima on pouring latte foam art, but Tsukishima’s shaky hands created squiggly lines. Tsukishima chuckled at his own failed attempts, and Yamaguchi tried to help as much as he could. By the end of the day, they had pictures from Yamaguchi’s practiced hands and mish mashed shapes from Tsukishima’s. Yamaguchi decided to cook dinner for them, Tsukishima helping prepare the food. Yamaguchi couldn’t help but think just how domestic it all felt. He smiled to himself as he served the rice at the thought. As they washed the dishes together, Yamaguchi leaned into Tsukishima’s side. Tsukishima froze for a second, before relaxing after a moment.
“Thanks for helping me.” Yamaguchi said.
“What kind of date would I be if I didn’t?” Tsukishima smirked. Yamaguchi paused, turning towards Tsukishima.
“Can I kiss you?” Yamaguchi said, a joking tone in his voice.
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, before leaning down slightly, only a few centimeters away from Yamaguchi’s face. Yamaguchi’s breath caught in his throat at the proximity.
“Of course you can.” Tsukishima smirked before closing the gap between them. It was a soft kiss, just a press of each other’s lips, but Yamaguchi’s heart could barely handle it. He could feel it beating so hard in his chest that he was almost positive Tsukishima could hear it. After Tsukishima pulled away, Yamaguchi returned to the dishes, a blush covering both of their faces.
#.fandom: haikyuu!!#.content: fluff#.fic: Pour Me Your Heart#.media: fanficiton#.ships: tsukkiyama#tsukkiyama#tsukiyama#tsukkiyama fanfiction#tsukkiyama fluff#tsukiyama fanfiction#tsukishima kei#yamaguchi tadashi#.characters: Tsukishima Kei#.characters: Yamaguchi Tadashi
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