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solarmorrigan · 9 months

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No one looks like they did in high school forever (be kinda weird if they did, honestly). Changes catch up with everyone sooner or later. For Steve, it seems to have happened sooner.

Personally, Eddie is in favor.

It isn’t that he hadn’t thought Steve looked in good in high school – god knows it isn’t that (Eddie may have thought Steve had been an asshole at the time, but he’d been a pretty one). It’s just that high school had been a time of basketball and swim meets and carefully watching his diet and carefully curating his appearance to match what he’d thought other people would want to see.

The time since graduation has been spent putting on the type of muscle that would better facilitate fighting monsters and keeping a band of misfit children safe (because after three times around, Steve hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to believe that the Upside Down was really gone), being fed by a rotating cast of mothers who appreciate him being there for said misfit children, and in letting himself decide how he thinks he looks good.

The first time Eddie really gets a good look at Steve after he’s left high school, he’s gone from lean muscle and looks a bit closer to the tank that Dustin’s been insisting he is. The first time Eddie sees him in action, he decides he wants to climb Steve like a tree.

Broad shoulders, strong biceps, solid core, thick thighs, that ass—is it objectification if you’re dating the guy and also madly in love with him? Whatever—Eddie is of the opinion that the time since high school has been very kind to Steve, appearance-wise.

He’s startled to realize, then, that Steve does not always share this opinion.

It doesn’t happen often; it’s rare enough that even Robin almost misses it, and Eddie is a big enough person to admit that she’s a more experienced Steve-watcher than he is.

For the most part, Steve is comfortable in his skin; he knows he looks good, he knows Eddie thinks he looks good, he knows what he’s capable of, and he’s pleased with where he is. Some days, though – some days just aren’t good days.

There are times when Eddie will catch Steve lingering in the mirror, frowning over a shirt that used to fall differently, or a pair of shorts that used to fit a little more loosely. He might reach for one of the cookies that Claudia sent them home with after their last dinner over at the Henderson household, before faltering and grabbing an apple instead (or, sometimes, nothing at all). He might wear extra layers, steal one of Eddie’s slightly oversized flannel shirts, go on an extra run, or he might not be in the mood to cuddle up to Eddie in bed (in spite of the fact that Eddie knows how much he loves getting to be the little spoon, even if he still refuses to say it out loud).

Most of these things by themselves don’t really have to mean anything, but somehow, Eddie can always tell when it’s one of those insecure days.

(And if Eddie had ever thought when he was younger that Steve Harrington could feel insecure about the way he looks, about his body, he might have cracked a crass joke about King Steve’s obvious need to overcompensate for something. Now, though, he knows better. Also, he’s a tiny bit more mature than that.)

So when he comes into the living room one afternoon to find Steve practically crammed into the corner of the sofa, curled in on himself just enough to suggest that he’s trying to take up less space, Eddie decides that that will just not do.

Eddie loves Steve’s confidence. He loves the space Steve takes up in his life (metaphorically and literally). He loves Steve, and he sure as hell isn’t about to let him spend the day feeling bad about himself, so he ducks back into the bedroom for the book on his nightstand and then plops down on the other end of the couch.

He reads for a little while and doesn’t really have to worry about getting too distracted from his plan, because he always finds himself tilting towards Steve like a compass to magnetic north, whether he’s actively trying or not. So he reads, and he shuffles around on the couch a bit, and he lists to the side a little, and then he’s finally just close enough to Steve to plausibly ask, “Hey, d’you mind?”

Steve glances up from the magazine he’s been reading, brows furrowed. “Mind what?”

Eddie points to the way Steve’s legs are drawn up almost to his chest. “Stretching your legs out? I wanna lay down.”

And normally, Steve doesn’t hesitate – hell, normally, Eddie doesn’t even need to ask; it’s almost as if he can just tell when Eddie wants to rest his head in his lap and automatically moves to welcome it. Today, though, he rolls his eyes.

“We have pillows on the couch for a reason,” he says, jerking his head towards the throw pillows at the other end of the couch (as if Eddie could forget the throw pillows; they’d spent a goddamn hour at the furniture store staring at the choices and had walked out laughing about how boring and adult and great it felt to be decorating their apartment with fucking throw pillows – but that isn’t the point).

Eddie scoffs. “Why would I settle for a pillow when I could have something way more comfortable?”

“Yeah, there’s no way my lap is better than a pillow,” Steve drawls.

“Baby, your lap is the most comfortable resting place known to man,” Eddie states, so dramatically intoned that it makes Steve laugh, even though Eddie is fairly serious. “Now why would you deny me my favorite place to lay my head?”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but obligingly (if slowly) stretches out his legs and rests his socked feet on the coffee table to make space for Eddie.

“Thank you,” Eddie says primly, before flopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable with his head situated on Steve’s lap, then giving a demonstrative little wiggle to settle in. “Yep, that’s the stuff. Perfect.”

“Man, shut up,” Steve mumbles, turning back to his magazine.

When Eddie glances up to check that he hasn’t gone too far, there’s a bit of a flush high on Steve’s cheeks, but no real displeasure on his face, so he doubles down.

“I will not. Not until you acknowledge the perfection that is your thighs,” Eddie declares, pressing his head further back into Steve’s lap. “Firm, but with just enough give–” he reaches up and pinches the side of Steve’s thigh, smiling innocently when Steve jolts and glares down at him, “always warm. Perfect.”

Steve turns his eyes resolutely back to the magazine he’s got balanced on the arm of the couch. “Not perfect.”

“Well, sure, perfection is subjective, means different things to different people, blah blah blah.” Eddie waves his hand in a vague ‘et cetera’ gesture and accidentally smacks Steve in the arm before he turns his head (and his hair is absolutely going all staticky after being rubbed against the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants, which is going to be a nightmare later, but that’s a problem for future Eddie) and presses a kiss to the spot just above Steve’s knee. “But they’re perfect to me.”

For a moment, Steve is still. Then he shifts slightly in place, and Eddie has the feeling that if he were standing, he’d be shuffling from foot to foot.

“And I have it on pretty good authority that my opinion counts for something,” Eddie goes on. “So if you ask me—which you should—your thighs are one of your best features.”

Finally, Steve glances back down at Eddie. “You think so?” he asks, soft and a little hesitant.

“Absolutely. One of my favorite parts of you, on a rotating basis with every other part of you,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve scoffs, because this time Steve is smiling, too. “What? There are so many good features, I’ve gotta make sure I pay them all equal attention.”

And the thing is, Eddie does know that what got Steve into this mindset in the first place was spending so long seeing himself as valued only for what he can provide physically: a handsome face, a lean figure, a human shield, the Party tank – whatever it is. Most of the time, Eddie makes sure Steve knows what he loves about him as a person, not just about his body. He could gain one hundred pounds, he could lose all muscle mass and be as skinny as a rail, he could look like anything, and it wouldn’t matter, because Eddie loves him.

But that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t also want a little reassurance now and then that Eddie loves his body, too – which Eddie does, and is happy to provide.

“And today, I’m paying attention to your thighs,” Eddie concludes.

“Stop saying ‘thighs,’ it’s starting to sound like gibberish,” Steve shoots back, but there’s a pleased tilt to the corners of his mouth now.

Eddie hums. “I especially love when you let me lay in your lap. Love having your legs under my head. Or wrapped around my head.” He waves his hand around his face, smirking up at Steve. “Just, in the vicinity of my head, really.”

Steve loses the battle with the laugh he’s been trying to hold in and it overtakes him, shaking with mirth under Eddie while Eddie smiles along with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, once he’s gotten his breath back.

“I’m just putting it out there,” Eddie says.

Steve cocks one eyebrow at Eddie and turns back to his magazine with a smirk. “Uh huh. Well, I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh, sure, me too,” Eddie says easily, bringing his book up over his face as if he’s going to continue reading, even though he isn’t even sure he’s on the right page.

They do settle after that, though, quiet and close and comfortable being draped over and under one another. Steve’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s hair and cards through it absently like he’s petting a cat. Eddie would probably purr like one if he could.

“Love you,” Steve murmurs, glancing down as he flips from one page to the next.

“Love you, too,” Eddie replies, tilting his book away just enough to smile up at Steve.

Maybe later Eddie will get to prove how much he loves Steve’s thighs wrapped around his head. Maybe not. For now, though, he hadn’t been lying – just this is perfect.

[Prompt: Resting your head on your partner's lap]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw for some discussion of weight/body issues #this is mostly fluff though #promise it has a positive ending

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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my angel baby (part 5)

(angel w/ angel daughter reader)

(caution!!!!!: mild descriptions of violence)

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hotel. angel reader resembles a fawn.)

(tags: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @just-here-reading @avitute @iam-d3ad-ins1de @des-deswain5621 @xephieeee @glowymxxn @potaturkey17 @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

My lovely editor<333: @kruncher

You were now in Rosie’s Emporium.

In Cannibal Town.

God.

In absolute shambles you were.. if it were in any other place it would be embarrassing seeing your state but considering the drastic circumstances and absolute 180 in the changes of temperatures, colors, smells, energy and even uncovered emotions that you haven't felt since you were a human finally coming out of the shadows and resurfacing, it all simply felt too much and was overwhelming your psyche.

Yet despite this— you knew you had to tough this out.

But here you were, gentle hands trembling and holding a cup of.. tea.

At least you really hoped it was tea.

“Now sweetie what in the unholy world are you doing down here? Hm?

Now now don’t keep me in suspense, if it helps any I’m not going to let anyone else’s filthy hands get on your pure little self!

Oh and me included, minus the filthy hands, mine are quite taken care of.”

This lady only made you cower a bit more simply by talking. Her sharp teeth and this confident air around her only intimidated you more.

If that’s the case.. how’d you even get in this building? Surely you had enough time to run from her in the middle of it..

Well, it's simply because she kept you from getting eaten by yet an oncoming crowd that saw the interaction with you and this apparent 'Susan' to which they seemed to have taken the old lady’s comment a bit.. too much to heart.

Their claws and baring mouths full of sharp bone, tongues salivating in wanting to try a taste of your fresh golden blood that gave off a sweet scent to them from afar.

She managed to scurry them all off with a few demands and a set of sharp words of her own, keeping you safe from becoming cannibal food for the day and honestly you'd rather be on this lady's good side if she had that kind of power to drive away the cannibals the way she did.

Your wing was even cleaned and bandaged by her despite your constant flapping in distrust and fear when she came near, feathers sprawling everywhere as if several pillows were ripped open in a kind of violent pillow fight. You were seated at a table with two chairs facing each other on each side, a bit farther back in the emporium.

“…Promise you won’t eat me, miss..”

The lady smiled fondly, her expression looking like she’s smiling towards a young child scared of the big wide world. She seemed to be genuine and true with her actions but you just really wanted to get to the hotel as soon as you could..

“Of course little thing, I promise I won’t.

Oh and where are my manners! The name's Rosie, sweetheart, I own the Cannibal Town and I lead the Cannibal Colony. Absolutely pleased to meet you."

You looked up at her with eyes full of fear and a hesitance to trust her, to give her any information at all about your circumstances.

But you weren’t raised to lie.. maybe twisting the truth wouldn’t hurt much? Keeping a few things under the rug?..

“Nice to meet you too miss Rosie..you may call me-- uh- ______.

Look I’m.. Im just looking to get back home. I heard Charlie Morningstar can help since she was in heaven awhile ago and she's the Princess of Hell, I must speak with her soon..”

The woman’s face brightened up like the sun with her sharp-toothed smile widening in remembrance. Spooking you out a tad..

“Charlie Morningstar! A real sweet thing that girl, adorable little blonde. Just a few months ago she came about and managed to convince my town of misfits to help her in preparing to defend the hotel against the angels! My goodness did she sweep them off their feet!

But yes, I know exactly where her hotel is! I can take you there as well, not a long stroll from here I'm sure. Oh but.. "

She paused with the back of her hand gently grazing your spread injured wing, it recoiling back at her touch.

"Wouldn't be surprised if any other wild sinner would want to hunt you down for sport, so maybe a nice stroll would be out of the question."

Her pale hand then moved to hold the end of her chin, the other resting on her hip as the gears in her heard started moving to find a safer passage to the hotel for you to get there.. her piqued interest in you has her wanting to see you advance a bit to see what potential you could have in this entire quarry between the both worlds at war.

"Aha! Perhaps we could have you hide inside one of those delivery carriages the townspeople have been taking in and out here to bring materials and food to the hotel. That way you avoid being seen by any potential eyes that could bring bad luck to you."

She walked up towards the large window illuminating the inside of the emporium as well as the two of you with light from Hell's pink and red hues that brighten the entirety of the realm. Her eyes now searching for a particular large object and... voila! She found it right across the town square and standing right in front of a local shop.

"Oh isn't this just perfect! There is one right there, the timing couldn't be more convenient."

You inhaled a quick breath and exhaled it as fast as it came, somehow still incredibly nervous being in a small space with this woman. Oh geez..

But you couldn't exactly complain since you did contribute in having yourself in this situation.

"So.. could we perhaps go.. now? I just.. want to head home as soon and safe as possible ma'am.."

She then suddenly turned to look at you, dress twirling and the feathers on her hat swaying in a way that indicates their movements could barley keep up with hers.

"Oh but of course! Considering half of the town's population is working on the hotel I must visit and check up on them as much as I can. I also must visit a dear ol' friend of mine, real gas that man is.

Well, then let's hop to it now shall we? We better hurry up while our tool of transportation is still here."

Your ears peaked up in slight delight at the fact that you're actually going to be heading over to the hotel now! So soon as well! This saves you so much more time, effort, and blood in trying to find the place you just knew you had to thank the woman in dark fuchsia and gray for taking you all this way. A little voice couldn't help but nag at you at how too convenient this all is.

Too bad you didn't think too much into that.

"Y..Yes! Yes ma'am!" You got up from your seat and set down your cup saucer on the table and scrambled to catch up to her and her pace with your heart pumping in your chest.

Both of you strolled across the Cannibal Plaza towards and up to the local shop with two large delivery carriages that seemed to lean on to a more older style, with them seemingly from the 1900s and were designed as if they were to hold containers like dairy and such and even people, it includeda large window on the driver's seat where they could peak in by turning their backs and looking down.. oh and it'd be a crime to not mention the horses! Although they seemed more undead and violently volatile like their cannibal owners they still were a nice touch.

Rosie and you approached them, Rosie with more confidence and you.. the opposite. "Walter, George," she spoke, an air of casualness persists "Good to see your faces alive and well! Hope you two got a minute to speak to two esteemed gals?"

The men, named Walter and George, looked up at the two of you with interest.

"Well if it isn't our Rosie! Good to see you as well madame, we sure hope you're enjoying this fine day with glee!" the man, seemingly the one called Walter spoke.

Rosie chuckled, "Oh I sure am, I even found myself a new little friend here! Which leads me in having to ask the both of you for a favor that is of most importance."

The other cannibal that goes by George focused his eyes on her and her words, "Why, anything for our beloved Rosie! What can we do for you ma'am?"

You hid slightly behind Rosie, feeling a strange comfort in just her status and power over rest of her people that made you feel at least a bit more safe from them. You would've continued listening to her conversation with the two men if the distant yet also near sound of explosions echoed across all of Hell which made you jump a little and stifle a gasp ever so slightly.

No one exactly noticed this or acknowledged the sounds too much which got you thinking if this is truly just an everyday thing.. of course it is it's hell but-- geez.. how can anyone live like this! Explosions, blood, guts, corpses, drugs, diseases, infections running rampant and indulged in the way pigs would at old farm food.

Just the thought of that damn severed hand being eaten by that little kid that you stumbled upon earlier just made you sick.. ugh.

Is this what Alastor indulges in as well?.. in his own sick way? Is he truly comfortable in a place like this?..

He must be, if he's murdered as many as he did when he was alive, you didn't dare think how many he's hurt and murdered down here as well.

He truly did belong here, in hell. He was a sadist and a psycho through and through.

And that's what disgusted you the most.

"You hear that dear! One of them is half near empty! Let's head on at once!”

Rosie finally snapped you out of your thoughts, you then just nodded as if you were present in the moment this entire time.

Rosie put a hand behind your back to guide you to the back of one of the delivery carriages and as one man held the doors open for the two of you, you both went in and sat down on the neat little benches on the inside and you couldn't help but to acknowledge the several boxes of nails and other unmentionables that you assumed was meant for the hotel and the people working on it.

Eventually after the doors closed you managed to get light by the large window that brightened up the darkness in your new much smaller environment.

“You know ______ darling, you remind me of someone I know.”

Rosie’s sudden voices spooked you quite a bit, it was a bit out of nowhere as it interrupted the awkward silence between the two of you.

“I.. do?”

She nods as her hands rested on the handle of her closed umbrella, sitting in a most elegant way.

Thank goodness she was versatile, considering the circumstances.

“You remind me of a certain friend I’m going to see when we reach the hotel, you see he’s a very powerful fellow. Charming and helpful but.. what interests me more is how alike you both look..”

It’s starting to click slightly once she said ‘he’.. god you just hoped she wasn’t referring to Alastor -- even though you knew how likely it is that she was.

"Oh? Really?.. " acting oblivious I see, but before you could properly respond to her the sound of a whip could be heard with the loud neighs of a horse following right after, making the carriage start moving.

The ride wasn't too bad, a bit traumatizing sure and you really got a good experience of hell.. more or so decent.

In the middle of your ride you seemed to have passed by a rival gang having a shootout considering the two flying bullets that punctured your vehicle which most definitely tensed you up, yet you tried to relax seeing Rosie's opposite reaction.

Then you heard many yowls and screams of ache and pain, all with their own sounds of bodies falling or the sound of wet and squishiness following the disgusting act of puncturing with some sort of weapon you couldn't even imagine can be heard despite passing by the sounds quickly.

The live murders made you feel queasy in ways that made you almost want to throw up but knew you had to keep your head up high.

God, knowing you can't see anything but still hear everything is absolute torture for your wild imagination.

"Miss Rosie, does this--" a loud boom from afar interrupted you, making you almost shrivel up "--does this.. amount of chaos truly...happen everyday?.. I know it’s.. hell but-- isn't there at least one day where this isn't happening?.."

"Oh it never stops darling. It's hell and it will keep going this way until the end of time. I do apologize though.. seems as if your pure little head isn't used to this kind of environment." Duh. "Oh but then that means you'll surely get along with the princess, if anything she seems to be more fit to be an angel."

You simply huffed as your hands trembled on your lap.

This place was downright unpredictable, and you truly hope you would be able to leave this place right after the war.

You miss home already.

----------------------------------------------------

Finally arriving at the Hazbin Hotel was a real treat.

Not really actually-- pfft.

At least not when you had to be around even more cannibals..

Now you knew why the town seemed a little.. empty. The rest were all here.

Charming of them to be helping out but thanks to 'Susan' you didn't want to interact with any of them.

Walking out of your carriage you felt your heart up in your throat and slowly start to beat at a violent pace. Your anxiety was rising.

Rosie lead you to the front of the hotel doors, seemingly dusting herself off fixing her hair and hat before her hand turned into a fit to knock at the door.

You did the same thing she did, except in a more nervous and trembly way. Alastor was in here.. you were sure of it. You could feel it in your bones and your veins wanting to pop blood from out your ears and nose was seemingly close to happening with how hard the beating of your pulse got once Rosie finally did what you were dreading slightly.

knock, knock.. knock.

'okay _____ stay calm. you knew this was going to be bad, but you're here now.. just breathe, breathe...' you followed your own advice and took an inhale but as you let your shaky exhale out the door was slowly opening.

your eyes were staring dead at the head of the door.

was it Charlie? Vaggie? Alastor?--

"Hello there, just came to deliver someone who was looking for the Hotel. Oh and I came to check up on my cannibals and on Alastor."

Rosie all but confirmed it.

She knew Alastor.

For some reason, your heart sank, not just because she knew Alastor very well apparently but because this feels like a sort of strange betrayal.

You really wished she would've told you.. but if she did you would've freaked out even more-- and maybe she could tell?.. wait-- how would she even know your connection to him anyway??.. looking like a fawn couldn't just straight up tell her..

Yet when you finally looked up at the now open door it was actually none of those three that you knew of.

It was a.. cat? A grumpy lookin' one.

He looked at you and up at Rosie, her arm proceeding to go behind your back to push you gently up closer to the door as if to tell the cat to let you in. His eyes widened at the look at you and your physical attributes.. your wings and halo catching his eye but your fawn like appearance only enhancing the tension in his face a lot more.

He eventually let out a husky sigh with the expression on his face relaxing, his voice being very low and his years were audible in his vocal chords he then turned behind him to loudly announce one single thing from afar:

"You've got company."

He turned back at the two of you and opened the door for you to go through, Rosie guiding you in first.

"He's inside talking to the princess, just walk ahead, take a right and you'll see him." He spoke straight forwardly and serious, it made you feel a little unwelcome. Yet as you walked in you couldn't help but feel those eyes of his stick to you like glue.. you couldn't really blame him-- you were sure they don't see an angel everyday the way you are with hell's environments.

The clicking of Rosie's shoes and the gentle pitter patter of your own gave you goosebumps up your arms, and the more you walked and the closer you heard certain voices the more your spine crawled.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps...

You could barley hear anything but the thumping of your own heart.

The small area of the hotel seemed to have been a sort of living room, sets of chairs and sofas surrounding a television box that seemed to be from one of the more later years after your time.

A calm Alastor and a stressed out Charlie were seated on the two different sofa while facing each other with papers and maps scattered around the table in the middle. Rosie lead you further to have you be in the view of the both of them.. you could've sworn her smile stretched as she did so

"Well if it isn't our beloved Rosie! What a warming surprise!--" Alastor's voice cheered until the end, where a sharp radio static interrupted his sentence and irritated those ears of yours.

"Rosie!" Charlie stood up from her seat in a polite yet frazzled state "Thank you so much for visiting!.. and I-- oh.."

The silence was deafening. You waved awkwardly as you avoided eye contact with your father and faced Charlie herself, her eyes basically ready to budge out and her jaws hanging slightly.

"Just came to visit and bring a little gift! I found this little bird during my stroll around my cannibal town and she seems to need your assistance! Isn't that right ______ darling?"

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more. You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class..

'oh dear.. "

—--------------------------------------------

It was yet another cold and dark night in the beautiful New Orleans, faint night music can be heard even in the dead of night from the nearby clubs. A fresh and gentle night,

Ah but.. Alastor wasn’t exactly getting his hours of much needed sleep, for he had been rudely awakened by the cries of a baby.

Yes, you were around ten months old at this time and Alastor was yet to get used to this. There wasn’t a day that passed by where he didn’t think of dropping you at an orphanage. But then again.. It wasn’t that hard to get you to stop crying so those heinous thoughts left very quickly. Except for this day, he was getting challenged by a ten month old you.

“Shh shh shh.. goodness _____ please just go to sleep..” he mumbled, definitely frustrated. Despite his pleas, you just kept on crying and crying while resting over his shoulder. He fed you, patted your back, rocked you to sleep.. nothing worked– unfortunately Alastor wasn’t thinking of one of the most obvious solutions to this situation since the poor guy was too tired to truly think properly.

He kept gently patting your back, shushing you and cooing softly in hopes to tire you out. Your small yet mighty cries continued to rage against his ear..

god he had no idea what to do.

That was when he held you, his hands under your arms as he had you held in front of his face. His glasses were sloppily slapped above his nose, eye bags under his eyes, and a small smile was threatening to turn into a huge frown.

“Little lady.. I don’t appreciate you keeping me up longer than usual tonight, what in the world could you want?” Alastor asked you despite knowing you couldnt understand let alone talk to him back. You simply looked at him with big innocent eyes filled with tears, your baby face stained with dry and wet tear stains and your mouth nibbling on your hand on the verge of crying all over again. Alastor couldn’t help but to look at you almost blankly, he just wanted to sleep.

Gahh but then your eyes started watering again, your little bottom lip curled up over your top one as it quivered and looked at him with these little pained eyes as if he just told you the worst thing ever.

“Oh don’t look at me like that..” he mumbled.. Dreading the feeling you gave him when you cried– it felt like your cries were hurting him, it pained him hearing you cry so hard.

He wasn’t exactly fond of feeling this.

Your loud crying resumed once again, Alastor let out a huge sigh.

“Oh fine- I apologize.. There, better now?” you cried harder, clearly.. no.

He groaned as he then rested you on his chest, your face over his shoulder once again. If your crying wasn’t going to stop he might as well listen to a song to calm his agitation. And so he did, he headed to the living room to then turn on the phonograph. With the device already having a disc in it he simply had to turn it on so it could play where it left off and the second it released the sound of bliss he let out a sigh of relief, that at least despite the crying he could at least go through this as calmly as possible.

The music wasn’t exactly loud, very faint in fact yet he could still hear it a little bit over your crying. He hummed to the tune of the song as he simply patted your back gently and waited for your cries to disintegrate.

This was one of his favorite songs as they were from a musician that is recently becoming incredibly famous in the music industry and Alastor was fascinated by their use of melody and sound.

Melodies that reminded him of the days of his mother when she was still gracing the earth, a real saint that woman was.

Sometimes he talks to her through a photo of her on the wall, asking her questions she’ll never answer, seeking advice and wisdom that he won’t ever be able to hear again.

If only her sickness didn’t overtake her as fast as it did, maybe she would know what to say to motivate him more in this moment of struggle.

He thought and thought and thought as if his head would burst if he didn't.. wondering how she would help him in raising you. What she would say, her suggestions, recommendations.. what would she do in a situation like this.

He knew he had to stay calm and stay in control, he had to keep smiling for that’s what his mother always did no matter what came her way.

She handled it with grace, poise, and with a smile.

It took him around an hour of overthinking about his mothers death, you, his future, his job, and his.. pff.. fascinations.. the lack of sleep seriously taking a toll on him as his want was slowly getting tired of patting you.

But most of all he was thinking about you. His future included yours.

How kind.. despite being so heartless.

Oh.. the song ended and all that was left was the soft static from the machine, blissful silence was all that was heard.

Wait..

Silence?

He looked over his shoulder to look at you, your little baby cheeks squished against him, your eyes closed and your breathing steady..

Finally! You're asleep.

Another sigh of relief released from his lips, continuing to loudly hum the same song that was playing earlier as he slowly walked out of the living room towards his room, now stopping at your crib.

He continued humming as one of his hands held the back of your head and the other held your back, gently placing you in the crib while humming the tune he kept you close while he set you down so you wouldn’t suddenly burst in crying again.

Once he gently managed to place you down with no fuss.. He was darn ready to sleep.

Oh but he took a moment to look at you, leaning against the railings of your ‘bed’ made specifically for you.

Your little baby fat and your squishy cheeks that made your little face even cuter– once again, he was never fond of kids let alone babies but hell if only you didn’t look at him the way you did on that rainy day he found you.. Giggling and smiling even when you didn’t have a single clue of what your situation was as a month old baby.

“You are definitely a handful.. If you kept crying I might have left you in an orphanage by now.” he whispered and joked to himself– no matter the cruel jokes he makes he’ll always find laughter in moments or scenarios of despair.

He’s too far gone now though, he’s bought all your necessities and his home basically screams of a baby’s presence, so even if he truly wanted to do that he knew it’s too late to turn back and you're stuck to him forever.. Well however long ‘forever’ is.

"Domestic life was never quite my style.. still isn't, but I can simply make a few exceptions."

“Well now.. sweetest of dreams, little dove.” he mumbled quietly before finally heading to his own bed himself.

Alastor finally settling in and finally getting comfortable and very slowly falling asleep himself.. glasses back on his nightstand and the noise around him becoming fainter and his mind seemed to finally start powering off for the night.

Finally.. time to sleep.. there's much work to do tomorrow.

Until he heard shuffling from the crib.

‘Oh god.’

(thank you so much for reading part 5 of my angel baby! the stakes are gonna get real high between the reader and Alastor! hope everything goes well for the two when one of them starts interacting!(alastor lmao) hope to see you all in part 6 if you are willing to stick around! Im really only planning to finish this series until the very end or until you guys stop wanting it but nonetheless I hope we reach the end of this story soon!!)

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raygunny · 8 months

Text

Tav Goes Missing

Ok uh holy shit this is long, I hope you all like it - it was a labor of love 💙

Based on my prompt by the same name

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Tav

Word count: 7,556

Synopsis: Tav is under a lot of pressure - she’s suddenly been shoved into leading a team of parasite infested misfits, everything seems to want to kill them, and a certain vampire has been on her mind far too much. She needs some time away from camp, but while venturing out on her own she gets hurt - and even worse, stuck. Who will come to her rescue?

---------------------------------------------

Trudging back to camp Tav feels a heaviness descend upon her. In her body, sure, but that’s an unavoidable fact of life at this point. More so her mind feels weary, and she’s pretty sure it’s not the parasite’s doing. At least not this time.

There’s been an anxiety hovering over her, one that only seems to kick in as they return each evening. The events of the day and the many before catching up with her as she enters the safety of camp. She should be relieved each time they make it back with all their limbs still attached, but lately, she just feels dread.

Tav feels somewhat guilty at the thought.

It’s been a pleasant surprise how much she’s enjoyed traveling with her new companions. Who would have thought that being in constant danger and sharing a psychic tadpole would be so effective in bonding them together?

If she’s being honest, though - it can be a bit much at times. There’s always some crisis, some literal life-ending problem popping up at the worst time. Really it doesn't matter what it is, Tav knows she can't bring herself to let any of them to deal with it alone. She knows that feeling all too well.

And truly, she is happy to have people around who need her and who she needs. Who enjoys her as she enjoys them.

So then why do I always feel so alone still?

Tav dismisses the thought. It’s not their fault, everything has been too much recently. Too much fighting, too much talking - trying to save their skin at every turn from some new, twisted form of danger. During the day she has no other option but to stay strong, to push the anxieties away. Failing at that means risking the safety of the whole party.

Upon their return to camp, all those thoughts suddenly come racing back. Sometimes it feels impossible to shut them off - and she needs to figure out how to shut them off. Even within the bounds of camp she knows she needs to be their unwavering leader. Sure of herself and them - carrying none of the doubts and fears that keep running through her mind.

She just needs a minute to think - to breathe. Some space would do her well, just for a couple hours so she can get this out of her system. As tempting as it is to wander off without saying anything, she convinces herself to check in with the others.

“What can I do to help?” Tav asks as she approaches Gale. He’s building a fire, preparing to cook dinner.

Gale looks up, “Well, well - if it isn’t our fearless leader!” Tav winces a little at that.

He doesn’t notice, glancing around, “Hmm, I think most of it is covered. I suppose we need firewood? And about this much kindling.” He holds his arms out making a circle away from his body. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, he could’ve just said an armful. “There’s enough to get us through cooking dinner, but we won’t have enough into the night.”

Shadowheart is nearby, helping Gale with dinner by chopping carrots. She pipes up, “I just saw Karloch with her axe heading towards the other side of camp. I think she’s going to chop some wood for us.”

Tav surveys the rest of their camp. Wyll is by the communal chest, focused on going through their inventory, trying to organize everything they’ve gathered in the last few days. Hopefully they’ll be going to the market tomorrow to sell some items and pick up some much needed supplies. She’s relieved, silently thanking Wyll - her brain could not handle that task right now.

Next to him is Lae’zel, who like clockwork can be found cleaning and sharpening her weapons each evening. She’s doing just that. Tav smiles as she notices Wyll’s sword and one of Karloch’s many axes at her feet.

Lately, Lae’zel has taken to helping the rest of the camp keep their weapons in top condition. Slowly but surely beginning to open up to them - in her own way of course. “You take such poor care of your blade. You clearly are unsuited for such a task, I will take it to my tent and return it to you later,” she says, her face giving away nothing. But Tav sees how she pays attention, how she knows who needs their weapons taken care of on any given evening.

Gale interrupts her train of thought, “Sounds like that leaves kindling Tav, do you want to grab some? Dinner won’t be ready for a while.” He starts talking about the stew he’s making and stresses that it needs an absolute minimum cooking time of two hours for optimal tenderness and flavor. He starts complaining about how they haven’t had a hot meal in far too long.

It’s been like a day, Tav sighs internally. That’s fine, it just means she’s got plenty of time to burn.

“Patience is a virtue,” Gale finishes, holding one finger up. Turning it towards himself he continues with a grin, “And I’m quite virtuous”. She’s amused but won’t let him see it, he’s been incorrigible lately.

Her stomach rumbles loudly. She, on the other hand, is not particularly virtuous it would seem. Fishing out an apple and some bread from her larger pack, she makes purposeful eye contact with Gale and raises her eyebrows. He shakes his head chuckling a little and turns back to building the campfire. She stashes the snacks in her satchel, she won’t be gone that long but it doesn’t hurt to have on hand.

“I’ll go get the kindling, I might be a little while though.” Gale waves a hand in her direction and just tells her to have fun.

Tav goes to change into her camp clothes and as she strips off her shirt she notices a tear in the sleeve. It’s going to need to be mended. She grabs it and heads towards Astarion’s tent.

As far as camp duties go, Astarion typically gets away with minimal work - instead focusing on looking pretty while reading one of his many books. He swears up and down that he’s doing it for research purposes, “You never know what kind of helpful information can be found until you find it, darling. If you think about it, I’m doing the most arduous work here! Now shoo.”

Occasionally, he can be convinced to mend clothing and the like. She approaches Astarion’s tent, knowing there’s about a 50/50 chance she’ll be able to talk him into fixing it for her. Better than it used to be, she thinks with a smirk.

Seeing the shirt in her hands as she walks up, Astarion doesn’t even wait before he says, “Oh no you don’t - you better not be coming over here with that. I’ve already mended plenty of clothing this week! It’s getting ridiculous really, I hadn’t realized I’d become the camp seamstress,” he huffs. “I mean honestly Tav, can’t you tell I’ve got plenty of reading to do,” he gestures to the books haphazardly stacked next to him. She can see the smile he’s trying to hide and knows he’ll do it for her if she chooses her next words carefully.

“I don’t see those books going anywhere anytime soon, Astarion.” Her eyes flick to his, “Plus, I’ll make it worth your while, I promise,” she says, knowing he’ll take the bait.

“Worth my while?” the corners of his lips twitch before revealing the smile he had tried hiding. She very much enjoys those smiles, the ones he doesn't mean to let slip. “I like the sound of that”, he purrs, effortlessly switching into a more flirtatious tone.

She steals one of his moves - a quick look up and down, as if shamelessly admiring his beauty while simultaneously sizing him up. Bringing her eyes to his, she flirts back with, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, handsome. We’ll have to see how good of a job you do before we work out payment.”

“That hardly sounds fair,” he fake pouts.

Time to appeal to his more practical side, “Besides, you need to make yourself look busy before you get pulled into doing something more labor intensive by the others.”

He strokes his chin thoughtfully before making up his mind, “Fine, I suppose you can’t keep walking around looking like a slob. Hand it here.” She goes to hand it over and he brushes his long fingers across hers purposefully. That flirtatious tone comes back, “And don’t forget, you owe me.”

She almost rolls her eyes, but reminds herself she had encouraged it. Sometimes he can be so frustrating. One second he’s there, present and having a good time, then something happens and she sees one of his many masks slip into place. It was difficult to spot at first, but now that she’s gotten to know him better, it’s hard not to notice. Tav still can’t pin down the why - it seems so random at times. Despite her curiosity, she doesn’t call him out on it. She’s gathered enough bits and pieces to know it’s not the kind of subject that leads to an easy conversation.

And to be fair, it is fun to flirt back and forth with him.

“See, was that so hard?” she teases before turning away. Waving over her shoulder she throws out a quick, “Thank you Astarion!” and is off.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters back, lost in thought, eyes still glued to her as she walks away.

Tav knows he won’t say it, but he likes people coming to him, needing his help. At least in this kind of way. The small, satisfied smile he has on his face when she examines his handiwork and praises him for the quality of it - “Wow, good as new!” - is all she needs to know.

She heads towards the edge of camp. Sure enough, Karloch is going to town on the surprisingly large tree limb she’d carried back a couple days ago. Tav catches Karloch’s eye just as her greataxe finds itself driven into the wood once again. Karloch waves, yelling out, “Just letting off some steam!” with a proud smile on her face. “Pun fully intended!”

Tav just chuckles and waves back.

----

It’s turning into a pleasantly cool evening, the sun will set in the next few hours but that gives her plenty of time to gather wood at her leisure - relishing the alone time this affords her.

She knows where she wants to go and starts heading that direction. They passed a cave the other day, but despite her pleas the others didn’t want to explore it, saying they were too tired. Tav suspects none of them are going to be interested in going back so she figures, if she has to go pick up sticks, then might as well do it somewhere interesting.

Her mind begins to wander. Thinking about the events of the last few days, dissecting a recent fight with some Harpies near the grove.

They’d caught the party by surprise. It was a rough start to the encounter. Shadowheart, who was closest to the beasts, immediately fell into a trance, charmed by their song. Karloch wasn’t in an ideal position either, too far from the harpies to charge them but also too low down for her ranged attacks to be effective. She settled for stepping in front of the child to create the best tiefling shield she could. That was good thinking on her part, Tav notes.

Tav and Gale caught each other’s eyes and silently agreed to move towards higher ground. Both scrambling up the opposite sides of the embankment, ready to use their ranged spells.

Despite the initial disadvantage, they were making good progress handling the beasts. That is, until two more flew in - this time heading straight for them. One descended on Gale, kicking him square in the chest. He was thrown off the embankment right as he used a fireball scroll to finish off the harpy singing across the water.

Thankfully, that broke Shadowheart’s trance and she quickly oriented herself to cast silence on the two harpies closest to her, a much welcomed relief. With the third preoccupied - trying to stomp Gale into the ground albeit - at least they didn’t have to worry about being charmed for now.

An arrow wizzes by, finding its way into the neck of the harpy attacking Gale. Astarion had tagged along that day as their fifth member, saying something about how dreadfully bored he was and that he needed to go to the market. It was a good thing Tav let him, he was the one really covering their asses at the moment. He had secured a hiding spot high on the nearby cliffs and relentlessly fired arrow after arrow, crippling their enemies from the shadows. With the one near Gale now critically wounded, Astarion immediately turned to shoot the one closing in on Shadowheart - it dropped right out of the air, hitting the ground hard. Tav sees it from the corner of her eye, nice one.

Karloch, happy to finally be able to properly hit the damn things, finishes off the one standing over Gale with a quick swing of her axe. She then proceeds to run to the now badly injured harpy lying on the ground, a fury of ruthless swings befall it and it soon lies still, thoroughly dead. The final harpy screeches and takes flight, in the next second Tav is pinned. She tried to free herself but was running on fumes, already hurt pretty badly. Astarion is the one who drives two arrows into its back, killing it before it can get another swipe on her. Shadowheart, out of breath but generally unhurt, runs over and proceeds to heal everyone. After almost getting their asses handed to them, they really needed it.

“What in the nine hells was that all about?!” Astarion yells, only sounding slightly hysterical. “I was practically carrying the whole team just now!” His pitch somehow increases, “And I’m not even supposed to be here!!”

They collectively groan. Rubbing her sore shoulder Tav just says, “Not now Astarion. We weren’t expecting to fight on this side of the grove.”

He scoffs, “Really though, is that how you all fight when I’m not here? Next time try to be a little more perceptive. You’re extremely lucky I came along today. I can’t always be the one saving you from danger!”

Tav glares at him, about to argue. Instead, Karloch steps in to defuse the strange tension that’s begun to form between the two of them. She smiles cheerfully, “Of course you can soldier, that was some top notch fighting out there.” Looking at the others she says, “Shall we head back to camp?” Her tone is light but they can tell it’s an order, not a question.

Shaking herself out of the daydream, Tav smiles - despite the ambush and the drama, the team had worked well together. They’ve been working well together for a while now, she reflects. In this relatively short amount of time, they really have fallen into a good rhythm. Learning to trust each other and adapting their fighting styles to compliment one another. Thinking back to what camp looks like right now, she realizes it’s not just battle they’ve fallen into a good rhythm with either. She feels a little bit better at the thought.

Slowing down Tav takes a moment to re-orient herself - she hadn’t realized how far she’d walked. The cave should be nearby but she’s not sure. Up ahead there's an overturned tree stump, they’d passed it the same day she spotted the cave. She relaxes, it shouldn’t be much further.

Marching on, the cool air has gotten even cooler, starting to feel heavy with moisture. The trees are swaying gently as the wind picks up, their leaves fluttering above her.

It’s going to rain, she realizes.

To her disappointment, there will be no time to explore the cave today. She turns to head back to camp, miffed about walking all this way for nothing, but knowing she’ll need to pick up her pace if she’s going to get back before it rains. She considers leaving without the wood, after all, they’re probably not going to be able to keep the fire going tonight with the rain. She decides against it, they’ll need dry kindling for the morning.

The storm clouds are rolling in and have darkened the sky, by proxy the forest darkens as well. This is not good, Tav thinks. She really needs to pick up the pace now. Her arms are completely full of twigs and branches, making it difficult to walk. She stops, shifting to get a better grip. It’s hard to see over the pile in her arms and the light is fading fast.

She should've just grabbed wood near camp then went exploring. She mentally kicks herself.

As Tav begins to hurry along again, she doesn’t get very far. A tree root jutting out of the earth finds itself in her path. She doesn’t see it and as she steps forward, directly on the root, her right ankle gives out. As Tav swings towards the dirt, she lets out a startled, “SHIT”.

She finds herself not just hitting the ground, but tumbling down into the ditch she’d been walking along. A fiery pain shoots up her leg. Tav groans as she rolls over and sits upright. Taking stock of herself, she tries moving her ankle but that intensifies the pain. Yeah, that’s messed up for sure. She reaches up to her brow where she feels a trickle of something wet. She brushes her fingers over the area and winces at the sting of a small cut. It’s bleeding, but that’s the least of her worries right now.

She takes a deep breath to calm herself. Getting back to camp will not be fun, but she’ll have to try her best. The wood is a lost cause, strewn about in a rough pile on the ground. She tries to gain her composure before attempting to prop herself against the side of the ditch. It’s a steep incline, she’ll need to stand to have a chance to pull herself out. She tries several times to shift to a better position, but with her right foot dangling uselessly she’s not going anywhere this way. The pain in her ankle is no joke, but she’s been hurt way worse than this before and kept going. It’ll be okay, she tells herself.

Her optimism is met with rain. The universe makes it clear that it is staunchly opposed to giving her a break today. It’s only sprinkling for now, but the incline out of the ditch is only going to get slicker.

----

Back at camp the others begin to wonder where she’s at. It's getting dark and they’ve noticed the rain clouds too. They’re gathered near the fire, discussing what they should do. “She said she might be a while,” Gale chimes in, “I bet she’ll be back any minute now. She’s not going to want to miss my delicious stew.” It’s a hopeful statement, but his voice still carries a tinge of worry.

Karloch frowns, “I don’t know Gale, she should be back by now. Gathering kindling doesn’t take that long, even if she was taking herself for a little walk.”

“Yeah, plus it’s about to rain.” Wyll backs her up.

While the group continues debating if they should go look for her or wait just a little longer, Astarion is quiet. He’s been painfully aware of the approaching rainstorm and how long it’s been since she left, but he also knows Tav is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

Though...they did see some juvenile gnolls the other day, but never found their den - he can’t shake the thought, something else occurring to him - shit and she probably ventured out to that damn cave she was going on about the other day.

He tries to push away the worry in the pit of his stomach, but those two thoughts make up his mind. “You lot do whatever you want - I’m not sitting around here any longer to wait until it starts pouring to go look for her,” he says, storming off in the direction she had exited camp. He hears Karloch and Wyll volunteer to go look too, splitting down different paths to cover more ground.

Astarion heads in the general direction of the cave. It’s a much farther walk than he was expecting, several times doubting if he was going in the right direction. Soon it starts raining lightly, and to his annoyance his nice clothes are getting wet, his poor shoes muddying as well. Ugh, and his hair must look a mess. He combs a hand through it, pushing it back and off his face. If Tav is back at camp right now and he’s out here for nothing he’s going to be pissed. With the path getting muddier by the minute, he considers heading back. The gnolls flash through his mind and a feeling of dread rises inside his chest.

No, not quite yet, he thinks.

Soon he sees the large stump they’d passed the other day - he’s getting close. Astarion keeps an eye out for any signs of Tav, soon coming across a rough pile of sticks down in a ditch. It looks suspiciously like someone had gathered wood and then chucked it down there. Looking a little closer he sees what appears to be drag marks moving away from the pile. Shit, that’s not good. The dread turns into real fear. Now he’s certain Tav has to be nearby.

“Tav?” he calls out loudly before he can stop himself. After all, someone or something nefarious could be lurking about. That thought is interrupted by Tav’s relieved voice calling back, “Astarion, is that you?”

Duh, he thinks, who else sounds like him? He hurries in the direction of her voice. She’s not far.

When he spots her, his throat feels tight. She looks an absolute mess - covered in mud, scratches down her chest and arms, and her head is bleeding. He rushes over and climbs down to her. “What in the hells are you doing down here? What happened? Are you ok?” He starts looking her over, positive she can hear the worry in his voice, but he doesn't care about that right now.

He looks rather disheveled, Tav observes. The rain has picked up and his hair is wet and matted to his head, his shoes and now his pants covered in mud. His shirt clings to his chest, slightly translucent from the rain. She’s never quite seen him like this. Focus Tav, she thinks.

“I hurt myself and couldn’t get out of the ditch,” she grimaces, gesturing to her ankle. “I was trying to drag myself to higher ground in case a flash flood came through here.”

“Well, that’s one smart thing you did.”

Tav wants to be offended, but now is not the time. She can see he’s upset - whether it’s at her or the situation she’s not sure. “Did you bring any healing supplies?” she asks hopefully.

He deflates, “Uhhh no, those seem to have, uh, evaded me.”

She just looks up at the sky, fat raindrops falling on her face, cursing whatever deity has it out for her today.

“What? Don't be like that. I rushed out of camp and came all this way through the rain and the wretched mud to rescue you.” He frowns. “Of course it would've been ideal if I had thought to grab a healing potion or two but..” trailing off there’s nothing else to say except, “I’m here alright??”

She lets out a sigh, “Just please get me out of this ditch before you get stuck down here too.”

She doesn't need to tell him twice. Astarion bends down and without warning throws Tav over his shoulder in one smooth motion. He’d already come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be covered in mud by the time they get out of here. She lets out a startled yelp. “Shit, Tav, I’m sorry - did I hurt you?” She can hear the worry creep back into his voice.

She feels a bit lightheaded, “Ah, no. You just surprised me. Didn’t expect to be hauled over your shoulder like a rag doll,” she tries to play it off with a joke, but it just comes out lamely. In actuality, she didn’t think he could lift her like that - but she won’t dare say that. He’s strong, don’t get her wrong, but not the Karloch or Lae’zel type of strong. It’s kind of impressive actually.

“Honestly Tav, if you’re going to keep criticizing my rescue attempt I can leave you right here.” While he is genuinely annoyed, they both know he doesn’t mean it one bit.

“No no, you’re doing a great job hero-ing it up. Please just get me out of here, I’m tired of sitting in the mud.”

He doesn’t even justify that with a response, instead taking a few steps forward and shifting her so he can boost her up to grab another tree root. She has to push up with both legs for a moment and she lets out an actual cry from the pain.

This is awful, Astarion thinks.

She makes it and he pulls himself up right behind her, she is grimacing in pain on her hands and knees. Astarion puts a hand on her back and her arm around his neck, helping her up to stand on one foot.

The rain is quickly turning into a downpour and it’s almost fully dark now. Now what? Try to carry her back to camp, through the mud and rain? He doesn’t think that’s an option at this point. They need to find shelter.

“You were out here looking for that damn cave weren’t you?” he asks.

She looks at him sheepishly, “Yeah it should be just past those trees.” She points to a nearby cluster of trees. “Are you thinking about sheltering there until the rain passes?”

He doesn’t answer her question, just scoops her up in his arms and starts walking.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she says, but doesn’t give him any more attitude than that. She’s starting to feel bad, knowing that this is not what Astarion had planned for his evening.

He just keeps looking forward, trying not to think about how nice she feels in his arms. She’s shivering, but compared to him she’s so warm against his chest. It feels good, clearing away some of the worry that's been knotting in there for the last couple hours. Relief, he supposes, unconsciously holding her a little tighter.

They reach the cave and he sets her down gently on a rock right inside the entrance. He peers further into the cave, obviously wondering if they’re the only occupants, the threat of gnolls popping back into his head. “I’ll be right back,” he says as he quietly makes his way further in. Astarion returns a couple minutes later and reports there’s nothing else in there with them. He picks Tav up again and carries her further into a larger, dryer portion of the cave.

She spots a bedroll in decent condition, discarded near what looks to have been an extinguished campfire. Some wood even remained stacked next to it. Someone must have been here recently.

“Do you think anyone will be coming back?” she asks, pointing to the firewood.

Astarion sets her down again, this time on the ground so she can lean against the wall. “No, I don’t think so. There’s too many cobwebs covering that pile, I doubt anyone has been here for a while.”

She agrees and relaxes a little. Her ankle is throbbing in pain, she’s really noticing how bad it is now that they’re in relative safety. Sounds about right, she thinks, shivering again.

Astarion looks at her, lips pressed together as if to keep himself from saying what’s really on his mind. How unusual.

“You’re drenched and disgusting.”

Ah. There it is. She fires back, “Well you’re not much better off, pal.”

His frown deepens. “Very observant Tav, that is in fact correct,” he hisses. His voice rises dramatically, echoing through the cave, “AND who’s fault might that be?”

Yikes, ok, she needs to cool it with the comments. He is understandably not in the mood for her shit right now. It’s just so hard to resist poking at him, she likes it when he gets riled up. And usually he does too, though he hides his amusement the best he can.

He takes a breath, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. Looking at the ceiling of the cave as if asking, why me?

“Look, I’m not going to catch a cold but you might,” he finally says, and she fears that frown on his face isn’t going away anytime soon.

“We can build a fire while waiting for the storm to pass,” she pauses before asking, “You can build a fire, right?”

She’s on thin ice. He huffs, “In theory, yes. In practice, I’m not sure. That’s usually Gale’s job.”

She knows he just needs some encouragement. “I think I have a flint in my satchel, grab it and I can walk you through it.” He turns and does so without any complaints - that’s also odd for him, she notes.

Once the fire is going she can see Astarion relax a little. Tav looks down at her muddy clothing. Astarion looks at her again, “You should probably take your clothes off.”

Tav understands what he’s saying, but still she jokes in a scandalized voice, “Astarion, now is hardly the time for that.” He rolls his eyes and she gets the tiniest smile out of him. She knew it, he can’t help himself either. She holds her hands up in peace, “Sorry, just trying to lighten up a pretty shit situation.”

Astarion shakes out the abandoned bedroll, ripping a strip of fabric from its bottom layer. He then lays it down near the fire. It’s not ideal but better than lying on the uncomfortable cave floor. “And I love that for you, darling, but excuse me if I’m still feeling a little on edge.”

There’s no real venom behind the words. That guilty feeling creeps back up on Tav. “Hey, I’m really sorry about this. I-”

He’s not ready to talk about it yet, interrupting her by saying, “At least take your pants off so I can look at your ankle.”

Tav gives up, she won’t argue this time. Moving to undo her pants she says, “I’m going to need some help with these. They’re soaked and I’m not the most…mobile right now.” She looks up at him, her exhaustion is starting to show, “Please?”

Something flashes across his face, a look she hasn’t seen before. It stays put this time, no flirtatious words or familiar mask taking its place. He moves closer, leaning down.

“Grab my shoulders,” he says, his tone a little gruffer than she’s used to. Tav does as he says, wrapping her arms around his neck. One of his arms wraps around her waist while the other hand travels up the back of her right thigh, holding that leg steady so she doesn’t have to put any pressure on it while he stands her up.

Clinging to him as he lifts her off the ground, her face finds its way into his neck. She exhales and can feel a shiver run down his body. Tav was not expecting whatever this is. Her heart rate picks up and she can feel a blush spread down her neck.

Astarion moves them towards where he laid out the bedroll. He doesn’t lay her down but instead continues to hold her tightly. He moves his leg between hers, removing his hand from her thigh and bracing her against his own, so her hurt leg still dangles a little off the ground. She feels tingly and a little lightheaded, she’s quick to blame it on the fact that she hasn’t eaten much tonight.

The arm wrapped around her waist helps keep her up while the other moves to her waistband. He pulls back and looks at her for permission, all she can do is nod breathlessly. He maneuvers his fingers gently into her waistband, sliding her pants past her butt and down to her thighs as far as he can go.

“I’m going to set you down now.” He places his hand on the back of her thigh again and begins lowering her back down. His voice still sounds a little strange.

She’s stunned - what the hell was that.

He doesn’t say anything else as he continues on, gently pulling her boots off first, her pants soon following. He makes sure to be especially careful with her injured foot. Her ankle is already swollen and a concerning shade of purple.

“What do you think doc?”, she breaks the tension in the air.

He clears his throat, his voice sounds normal again as he says, “Tsk, I don’t think you’re going to make it.” He shakes his head solemnly, “Such a shame - before all of this you were my favorite one at camp.”

He doesn’t leave her any time to retort before standing up to go lay out her pants on the other side of the fire. It won’t fix how muddy they are but it will dry them out. “Do you want to dry your shirt too, or no? I can always, ahem, help with that if needed.”

Tav can see the mask reforming, whatever happened moments ago slipping away. Don’t go, she thinks - instead she says, “No need, I’ve had you do enough for one day.” She only feels a little shy as she takes it off, tossing it over to him. He follows suit, stripping his shirt off, but briefly hesitating before slipping his pants off as well. He’s practically never the shy one, it’s something he’s done thousands of times - but with Tav he suddenly feels vulnerable.

Something in the air still feels weird between them. Tav can’t think of anything to say except, “Nice undies.” She apparently just cannot help herself with the comments today.

That charming face is fully back on. Deflecting, he makes a comment about her getting lost out here to seduce him. “All you had to do was ask and we could both be in my tent, in a similar state of undress, nice and warm right now.”

She looks at him and blurts out, “Why do you do that?”

His face drops for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Your face, it..changes sometimes, like you’re flipping a switch.” She hesitates before adding, “Or putting on a mask.”

“I’m not exactly sure what you’re getting at..” he starts to say, but he’s tired and decides to be somewhat honest. She’s certainly being direct with him. “Well, I suppose when you’re as pretty as I am dear, people expect a little flirtation.” He looks down at Tav, trying to get a read on her after asking him such a strange question. “Usually it’s welcomed, but...I mean, if you’re uncomfortable I can tone it down.”

She shakes her head, “I don’t mind per se, but I feel weird sometimes because it doesn’t always seem authentic.”

Shit, she’s way more perceptive than I thought.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way, but..” she trails off for a second. “You do know we can just be friends, right? I don’t need you to flirt with me to like you, Astarion.”

Now he really doesn’t know what to say.

“Why?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Why would I like you even when you’re not flirting with me?”

“Yes, that’s usually what everyone wants.”

She’s starting to understand a little better now, so she says, “Well, I guess I don’t particularly want anything from you, Astarion.”

Ah, there it is, so she just doesn’t want him around in general. He can’t even lie to himself - it stings a little bit. He’s not used to being rejected, especially not by someone he actually gives a shit about. He laughs louder than he means to, “Well I can’t fathom why my company isn’t wanted - I’m a delight, if I do say so myself - but if you want me to leave then so be it. I can go and grab the others now that you’re in a safe place.”

She’s slightly baffled by his response, “What? No, Astarion, I do want you around. I just mean I will take what you’ll give me. I don’t want anything from you that you don’t want to give.”

Ok, now she’s really not making sense. What does that even mean? He tries to hide his confusion. “Ah ok I see...but why?” he asks again. This time there’s curiosity behind it - instead of an accusation in the form of a question.

She shrugs, “Do I need a reason? I enjoy you Astarion. I like your company, you’re fun to talk to. We’re friends, and friends don’t have to do anything for each other. We can just be.”

He doesn’t say anything so she continues, “I admire you in a lot of ways - how you speak your mind, your sense of humor, the way you indulge me when I’m being annoying.” She sees an amused look form on his face and she smiles, “How you make me feel protected.” Oh no, it’s getting too serious now - she recovers, “I mean, your proclivity for violence definitely comes in handy.” Her eyes swing to his with a mischievous look on her face.

She hadn’t even mentioned anything about my looks, Astarion thinks, digesting her words. He’s practically naked too. Usually he would feel offended, but this time it feels..nice. “We’re friends?” It’s the only thing he can think to say.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

This is not how he imagined this conversation, let alone this night, going. He decides it’s his turn now, “Well if we’re friends then let me ask you a question.”

Tav raises one eyebrow, “Go on.”

“Why did you go off all this way by yourself? And don’t you dare say it was just to explore this awful cave - there’s more to it.” Astarion knows he’s right. After all, Tav’s not the only one good at reading people.

Tav sighs. “I guess I’ve just been very overwhelmed lately. I needed some time away, to sort through my thoughts and figure shit out. Just exist without the weight of the world on my shoulders for a little bit.”

Astarion ponders that for a second then says, “I may not have the most experience in this arena, but isn’t that the kind of thing friends help out with? ‘Venting’, I think they call it.” She snorts and he continues, “Everyone is always coming to you, but you never come to us.”

He’s not sure if he should say this next part, “You say I have a mask, but I see yours too.”

He’s not wrong, she thinks. “I don’t know, everyone else just has these big huge things going on and I’m just..here. How could I not help?”

He rephrases his statement into a question, “Ok yes, but why do you feel the need to help literally every single person you come into contact with, yet still can’t ask for it in return?”

She looks at her hands, another sigh escaping her lips, “Probably because I’m used to handling my own problems by myself.”

The thought of her being alone is surprising to him. Tav seems like the kind of person who has lots of friends back home. She’s funny and charismatic, always taking care of others - he can’t think of one reason why she wouldn’t have people eager to be her friend. He’s not going to dig further into that at the moment, he senses it’s not what she needs right now.

“I may not know much about friendship, but I do happen to know a few things about loneliness.” He sits down facing her, gingerly propping her hurt leg up in his lap and carefully begins to wrap her ankle with fabric he tore from the bedroll. His bedside manner isn’t the worst she’s experienced. “Back in Baldur’s Gate I couldn’t let myself get close to anyone. If I did, they would just become another weakness for Cazador to exploit against me.” His face twists, “And honestly, people weren’t exactly lining up looking for friendship from me.” He keeps going, “What I do know is the last several weeks traveling in a team has been…good. I feel lighter, safer. Like I can actually somewhat enjoy my days, even when you all are acting insufferable.”

He just had to throw that last part in there, Tav thinks - letting out a small chuckle. She doesn’t care, she’s just happy to hear him open up to her like this. She feels less alone.

He moves his hand to her shin, not even thinking as he nervously rubs small circles into her skin. “And Tav, I attribute most of that to you.”

Her breath catches for a second at the look on his face, she can tell he means it when he says, “I may not be the best at it, but I want to be here for you as well.” He clears his throat. “So you need to get it together and start relying on your friends.”

Her face is on fire, but she tries to play it cool. Once again, she was not expecting that at all.

“What I’m hearing you say is that you do like me after all,” she teases him, a grin on her face now.

He groans in response, “Don’t make me regret this.”

They both sit in silence for a minute, each thinking about what the other said.

“So hypothetically, what if I wanted to keep flirting with you?” Astarion asks, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She laughs, of all things that’s what he wants to circle back to? “If you want to flirt with me, I’m all for it - but only if you hypothetically really want to.” She tries to read his face.

He looks at her now, eyes straying to her lips. She’s so beautiful in the light of the fire. Hair wet, cheeks rosy, eyes sparkling with amusement. Even slightly scratched up and muddy, she's a vision. He can’t stop himself, “And what if..what if I wanted to kiss you?”

Tav's heart is racing so fast that she can feel her own pulse. What is going on today? First the worst luck she’s had in a while, and now this? The universe is messing with her.

Time to put her cards on the table. She wants to show him she’s sure about him - sure about whatever the hell is going on right now. “I would welcome it.”

He moves her leg gently, placing it back on the ground. In the next moment he’s moved up next to her, studying her face the whole time. He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

His eyes are so round and soft - the softest expression she's ever seen on his face. His voice is much lower now, "What if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Looking to his lips and then back at his eyes, she leans towards him. Only a breath away now, Tav whispers, “Then I would kiss you back.”

And with that he closes the distance, her lips are so soft and warm that it makes him shiver. His tongue swipes against her bottom lip and she welcomes him. It’s not fair how good she tastes. His hands come up to cup both sides of her face and he kisses her more deeply. Her head is swimming, it’s by far one of the most passionate kisses she’s ever received.

He pulls back, slightly breathless, and moves his face to rest against her cheek. “I was really worried about you today.” It's a confession.

She doesn’t move, just says, “I know,” and brings her hand to cup the back of his neck. She can feel the tension there. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

“Anytime.”

And she knows he means it.

Bonus:

“Ok but seriously, where are the others at? They just let you venture off alone to rescue me?”

He shrugs, “I know at least Karloch and Wyll also went out looking, but I’m sure they’re back at camp by now.”

“What about the others?”

“They just don’t like you as much as I do apparently.” he cracks a mischievous smile.

“That’s messed up.” She says, but she’s laughing. He loves it when she laughs.

Astarion chuckles, “I can tell you that Gale’s probably making love to his stew right about now.”

Tav shakes her head still smiling, “That sounds painful.”

#holy dialogue batman #what's better than stripping down and talking about your feelings #I just know Tav has gotta have crippling anxiety at some point #alt title: dude where's my tav #astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion/tav #bg3 tav #astarion fanfic #karloch #gale dekarios #wyll ravengard #shadowheart #lae'zel

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jahnavisurenda-21 · 3 months

Text

Hazbin Hotel ||Alastor X Reader||Rest A Little My Dear

It's tiring and feeling burnt out but the stack of thoughts, longing and paperwork won't let you sleep.

It had been approximately two years since that horrible night, but you're not exactly sure how time works in hell, or how many days make a year, or how many days make a month.

You asked some of your other friends as well Charlie, Vaggie, and Angel they just shrugged, although Vaggie did ask you the reason. Then looking at you she figured it,

"Oh, I see... you're still hoping huh?" Vaggie didn't want to tell it, but she thought you were hoping for something meaningless.

"Come now my dear, it's not healthy for you to be locked up in your bedroom the whole day." Alastor reminded, dragging you outside.

To cure you of your homesickness he would make the food you used to enjoy, love, and fight with your sibling for.

Alastor could have handled that, but he knew the stages of acceptance involved Denial, Turmoil, more denial, romanticizing the impossible, and then initial acceptance.

It was a while since you landed here, and the moment he had seen you he knew you could be a more hopeless case than Charlie and a complete misfits of the misfits.

"Here at least come to one of the most pleasant cities of this miserable hell!" Alastor said grinning,

Two weeks passed, And Alastor had gone out for 'Urgent matters' he thought you were to lighthearted to understand or even know about it.

That night he was pleasantly surprised to see you wrapped up with a blanket on your bed, you were taking his advice and calming down a little.

He sat by the bedside, "I know my dear, it's painful. As painful as missing my mother. You know I'd give anything to see her once again." Alastor then looked at you, "Now my dear, when I go, I hope you will help me run this hotel and not stay cooped up here. It's definitely not healthy, well I guess this is hell. Now I better get going. My dear."

"Ah there you are Charlie... why not help me out a little you see my darling Y/n will probably be all delusional again, dreaming, drifting, and mindlessly browsing all sorts of information in those content books of hers, and that picture box thing, so make sure she doesn't get a little to delusional okay?"

But Charlie knew your stubbornness passes the gates of hell and to the doors of heaven, you avoided everyone, anything to study, you studied for hours, without Alastor things got really hellish.

One day in your room staring out to the red skies, Niffty called out to you,

"So why are you such a boring person huh? Why are you not a bad girl?"

"That's because she doesn't belong here Nifftly." Charlie's soft voice called out, she then took your hand, "I know it's hard for you, to have left everyone behind, I know your longing to pick up where you left, you want to forget you are trapped in hell. I can't promise your departure back to Earth, I know your scared, but we'll be right by your side."

You laughed with tears, "You sang and told me this, you and Alastor I'll never know the secrets behind your dazzling smiles, and those songs you both sing so naturally. Thanks."

Alastor was up against the wall eavesdropping is a rude word, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. He was too respectful to eavesdrop.

An hour later, again you think because you don't know how time worked in hell.

"Ah my dear! I see your less delusional than before!" Alastor came smiling, he was really relieved you were smiling.

He had never made a deal with you, because he hoped that one day he could see you truly happy when you return to Earth happily, and when you die, he knows he would most likely never see you again and now he will have two people to give up everything for to just see them once again.

After everyone left, you took Alastor's hand, "I see your in a much better mood!" Alastor commented, "It's thanks to you."

"Oh no my dear, Just smile and one more thing just rest a little more my dear."

And smile you did, the most purest one in his eyes.

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wolfoftheblackflames · 2 months

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Hey, my misfits, who's hungry for more cute fluff, friends to lovers, and a tale as old as time?! Enjoy my Beauty and the Beast AU: Chaggie style!

The Devil and the Innocent: Pt.1

It was a long time ago, in a far-off place. A king had disappeared, leaving behind his daughter. The child was kind to a fault, but one day when the worst day of her life happened. She, in her fit of rage, brought hell upon her ex, the man had been caught cheating, locking herself away in her castle afterward, the Princess never came out again. “Why can't I find someone who loves me for me!” She would wail sobbing into her pillows.

Her cries were answered when an enchantress disguised as an old crone appeared at the door. Still in pain and distraught with none to comfort her, the Princess turned said woman away to the cold, apologizing as she closed the door. “Your heart has been shattered. You choose to live in isolation away from those you care about. Surely, this will help you find the one you seek.”

In a matter of moments the Princess crumbled forward, her body growing bigger and stronger. Her own workers also felt this change shifting into many different things to reflect the cruel joke the Enchantress placed upon the crew.

Thus was how the Devil and her mysterious castle came to be.

A sigh escaped the reader's lips, the Latina with the most beautiful shade of jade to her eye closed her book. “Thanks for reading to us, Miss Vagatha!” A child cooed smiling.

“Of course, now run along, I only said one story before your chores.” Vaggie smiled as the children giggled and scattered. She leaned back and sighed, wondering what books she could find or what her adopted mother Carmilla Carmine was making this time.

She got up dusting her beautiful white sundress off and hosting the brown leather bag over her shoulder. Vagatha or as most would call her Vaggie was the talk of the town, her elegant yet calm demeanor, her skills as a folk dancer, and the fact that she was the daughter of the King's best arms dealer Carmilla Carmine.

The people of Little Pride watched the woman walk through the streets.“Bonjour!” several greeted her smiling. Others watched her with skeptical looks.

“She's an oddball that one, she's beauty and grace despite the eyepatch that's on her face.” A woman spoke to her friend as they gossiped.

“Her face was either lost in dancing or pressed in a book.” The other replied as Vaggie paid no mind to them.

“She hardly ever has to look!” One child cooed seeing Vaggie effortlessly dodging the many carts.

Her stroll through the town was a simple one, she smiled softly entering one of her favorite stores, Angel's Archive, a bookstore run by the cutest south indian bookworm Emily and her mother Sera. “Hello Vaggie, are you here for the latest copy of Arms and Armor?” The bubbly browned haired girl asked, smiling.

“You know it.” The other girl replied, being handed the book.

“Thanks again for the continued patronage!” Emily grinned as Vaggie paid for the book. “My pleasure, see you, Em.”

---

Vaggie casually wandered through the town on her way home, she always loved the rustic architecture, and the knights that would rarely pass by in order to restock their gear. “Well well, hello there Vagasaurus.” A scratchy male voice smirked, his tall muscular chubby body towering over her as Vaggie had sat down on the local fountain to read her book.

Her eye narrowed. “Haven't I told you not to call me that Adam?” She growled. “Need me to kick your ass again?”

“Ooo I love a woman who can kick ass. You're just making me the dickmaster hard babe.” Adam grinned, making Vaggie get up.

“¿por qué tengo que lidiar con este idiota…” (Why do I have to deal with this dick head) “Seriously Adam, fuck off.” The Latina stated walking away.

“Ooo I love it when your accent comes out, so exotic.” He purred. “Bet you're also still salty you got canned from the Exorcist Platoon for losing your eye.” He smirked, poking an old wound.

“And you're bringing this up, why?” Vaggie growled, her head starting to ache.

“Cause even if you play civilian, that doesn't mean I'll not recognize one of my top girls when you're out of uniform Vagasaurus.” Adam laughed, twirling on his finger, her old badge. “Though ya might wanna trim that mop of yours.” He smirked, motioning to the knee-length hair.

Vaggie's eye twitched as she couldn't hold back her temper anymore. “Apenada Carmilla…” (Sorry) She muttered under her breath and decked Adam in his stupid face. The taller man stumbled back but he smirked.

“There's the killer I know and love.” He purred satisfied. Vaggie soon hurried home, her heart racing from adrenaline.

Home however was on the outskirts of the town, it was a large grey stone building with smoke coming out of its chimney. Vaggie quietly ducked inside not noticing the fact Adam and his band had followed. Carmilla was often crafting new weapons with the help of her daughters, Vaggie was grateful to the arms dealer who had taken her in when she was abandoned on the outskirts after a nasty skirmish.

That day made the ex soldier shudder, it was a raid Adam led on a small outpost, but said outpost was actually a town filled with aboriginal people living their humble lives. “You'll surrender everything to us or your lives are forfeit!” The blood thirsty ex coworker Lute had roared.

The people didn't surrender, it was a bloodbath, Vaggie went into one of the homes and found two children and their mother shaking. Seeing their scared eyes still haunted Vaggie. “Get out of here, go now!” She had spoken, sending the trio away.

This didn't sit well with Adam who had seen it. While the others were distracted, he had ordered Lute to punish the traitor.

Vaggie broke out of her trance upon hearing the doors. “Not you again!” She growled seeing Adam.

“What? I won't take no for an answer, you'll be mine and it'll be great. I am thee dickmaster.” Adam smirked casually sitting down and mansplaning like he owned the place.

Vaggie sighed. No matter how many times she said no, this douche kept pressing despite the fact she wasn't really into men at all or anyone right now for that matter. She smirked evilly when Adam started munching loudly on chips. “Oh Adam, could you scoot to your right please?” She batted her eyelashes.

The idiot grinned, finally getting his way moving to the right so she could sit with him. “That's more like it..” He licked his lips. Vaggie casually did her alluring dance heading over to a lever. “Wait what?!”

“You really are stupid, wow. Anyway get the fuck outta my house!” She pulled it and sent Adam tumbling out through a trapdoor.

“Fucking bitch!!!!!” He roared splashing into the lake nearby. He growled, poking his head out of the water as Lute shook her head. “Not a word Lute..” He snarled and left with her.

Carmilla clapped, surprising Vaggie who blinked. “Never liked that man. Well done.” She smiled with her own two toned brown hair up as demon horns. “Now come along, I need your help in inspecting some weaponry.” Her voice was warm and motherly.

Carmilla was in her casual black tunic and slacks, she even sported some white gloves, a white and red pouch on her side, and some beautiful white boots.

Vaggie smiled and followed her, relieved that some of her soldier days could be useful.

“I was asked to head over to Zestial's domain for some tea and a business proposal.” Carmilla spoke after sorting through several weapons. “I'll be gone for a few days as the trip there is long.” She added and looked at Vaggie.

“Alright, but isn't Zestial’s territory beyond the Hellfire woods?”

“It is, but I've traveled it many times, and I can take care of myself.” Carmilla replied casually tapping her feet. Vaggie always found it so cool that her mentor had blades in her shoes since it made the fools drop their guard. “Now make sure the latest shipment is ready for transport, I'm sure Odette and Clara will be back soon with their wagons.”

Vaggie saluted and nodded. It made Carmilla chuckle a bit, but she then smiled warmly. “Umm?” Vaggie blinked confused.

“Here, I heard you lost yours during the skirmish, ex soldier.” The taller woman handed Vaggie a beautiful looking spear.

It was no secret to the Carmine family that Vaggie used to be a soldier. Carmilla being the first to notice. The spear looked similar to Vaggie's old one but instead of one side with a curved blade, it was wider, sharper, and hooked on both sides. “R-really? Is it for me Ms. Carmine?” She asked as she was baffled.

“Of course, you've proven yourself time and time again with keeping my home safe, Vaggie.” Carmilla replied but blinked, receiving a brief hug. She laughed a bit and petted Vaggie on the head.

It was soon time for the taller woman to depart as she climbed into the driver seat. She easily took the reigns of a handsome black and white stallion named Diablo. “Good luck on your trip Ms. Carmine!” Vaggie waved as the other woman departed.

-----

Elsewhere in the local tavern Adam was sulking. He couldn't believe that bitch Vaggie managed to pull one over on him. “Sir, no need to be so hung up over that traitor. After all you're Adam, the first man to ever conquer a village of over fifty thousand people.” Lute stated annoyed by his sulking.

Adam grumbled looking briefly at his second in command. He had to admit despite the vicious nature which he loved, Lute did have the hotter look with the short black bob, pale peach skin, grey armor over her black bodysuit, plus those sexy white gloves and heels. “I just hate it when I don't get what I want.” He replied grumpily.

Lute smirked a bit and handed him his favorite instrument. “It's annoying sir to see you so down.” She started as Adam blinked. He smirked and started to jam with his favorite girl. “Who cares about that mop bucket piece of shit bitch. You're the Dick fucking master.” She hyped him up, making Adam laugh with glee.

The girls easily swooned over Adam since the man often exposed his sexy chest hair through his white and gold long robe jacket, his lavender tunic underneath alongside some casual black trousers and boots. If there was any word to describe this man it would be “bear”.

“I am the man with the best dick around, come on ladies let's get down!” He roared into song, jamming hard. Though after his fun tavern party Lute took him aside. “Huh what's up danger tits?”

“Want to get back at the cunt?” She asked evilly. Adam's reply was a huge evil smirk. “Alright then, here's what I have in mind sir.”

-----

On the open road, Carmilla's carriage made its way to the cursed forest, its soft red mist echoing that of entering hell. She found it amusing and liked the route since it kept bandits off her ass. Diablo, however, whinnied and started to fuss. “What's wrong boy, ¿Estás asustado por algo?” (Are you spooked by something?) She spoke softly, trying to soothe the stallion.

He stomped his hooves and tried to wrestle free of his carriage binds. “Ah!” Carmilla yelped, being tossed off as Diablo managed to smash the carriage into a tree. “Diablo?!” She blinked but growled stranded in the forest.

Through some exploration, the woman found something she'd never seen before, a white and gold castle with the skies reddening as she got closer. Cautiously she knocked on the large wooden doors which made the door creep open.

“Who the hell is that broad?” A voice spoke. “Someone whose lost their fuckin way dipshit.” Another answered. “Quiet you two dumbasses.” The third hushed them.

“Tch, I don't like this..” Carmilla looked around the grand red entryway, it had a red brick staircase leading upward with golden handles and railing. The floor was a more muted grey with it being decorated by a large carpet bearing the symbol of two snakes intertwining over an apple.

“Not another word outta you two got it? Seriously Angel and Cherri learn to shut the fuck up.” A voice spoke quietly.

“Look can someone please come fucking out already? I lost my horse and the town's too far away to walk back.” Carmilla growled softly. “I'm willing to pay you for letting me stay the night since I don't want to walk back with it being so dark out.”

“Oooh wow, a bitch with an attitude. I like her.” Cherri smirked watching the tall woman.

“C'mon Husk she's got no place ta go.” Angel replied as Husk groaned.

Carmilla blinked, turning her head around picking up Angel as Cherri who had been turned into a wind up monkey smirked. “Who the fuck said that?!”

“Oooh, check out the mommy dommy hands on this one Angie!” Cherri grinned as Carmilla blinked, staring at her. “Hi there.”

“What the fuck?!” The woman replied as she then looked over at the snickering Angel. He was a four armed candlestick with five flames.

“Hiya mommy.” He playfully snickered.

“Now you've done it.” Husk sighed, being a talking wind up tuxedo cat.

Carmilla just blinked at the two, clearly confused. “How the fuck are you moving?” She had dropped Angel only to pick up Husk, curious as to how a children's toy is moving on its own.

“Long story I tell ya.” Angel snickered seeing Husk being toyed with. “Hey, quit it!” The cat hissed but blinked, noticing a small bit of blood on Carmilla's head.

“Dios mio..” (Oh my god) Carmilla sighed feeling like she's lost it.

“Oy demon lady, you're bleedin’.” Angel replied, waving one of his candles. “Follow us and we'll get that looked at.”

Carmilla grumbled but followed the odd trio of objects into the next room, not noticing the looming shadow that watched her from above.

“Ugh you two are gonna piss off the princess.” Husk muttered but moved aside as a cart wheeled over to Carmila who had been led to sit down in a rather large red velvet chair. “And we don't need another one of those rage moments.”

“Care for a nice cup of tea dearie?” A warm voice came from the beautiful Victorian style red and grey tea pot.

“Oh.. Um..” Carmilla looked a little surprised when a coat rack was bandaging her head. “Alright?”

“How about some music as well my dear?” A voice came from a rather nice looking mahogany radio with black knobs and glowing green lights.

“Ugh you idiots are going to alert the Devil.” Husk groaned, but the radio chuckled.

“Oh no need to be in such a tizzy Husker, a little music doesn't hurt anybody. Right Rosie?” Two beating red eyes looked over at the tea kettle.

“Of course Alastor, music is quite a nice way to enjoy some tea dearie.”.

Carmilla picked up the cup and took a sip from it. “Nyeh, why am I against a lady's lips!” A shrill voice came from the red tea cup as two cute yellow eyes blinked at Carmilla.

“What the fuck?!” She blinked but looked over the cup.

Quacking was heard as a footstool waddled its way over lifting Carmilla's feet up. Though it was strange and felt like a drug trip, Carmilla didn't seem to mind the great hospitality.

The crew jolted hearing the door slam open off its hinges. “Here we go…” Husk gulped. Carmilla growled, getting up fast and ready to fight, however she was easily subdued by powerful black claws coming around her neck.

“Who are you, why are you here?” That voice came out low and growly. Carmilla stared at the figure before her, her eyes wide. “Doesn't matter you're not welcome here…” The beast snarled, dragging Carmilla off as the other tried to follow.

Carmilla couldn't believe her eyes, whatever had her by the neck with ease was a giant massive beast with blonde fur, a wolf like snout, cloven red hooves, deep white eyes with red sclera, two red horns sticking out of its head, and a long spiked black tail with a triangular tip. “El diablo mismo…” (The Devil itself.) escaped her lips as the beast growled at her.

“What the fuck are you saying? Are you staring at me?!” The beast snarled slamming Carmilla into a wall. “I bet you've come to stare at the Devil huh? Well you've found her.”

“Hey hey! Princess, you're going to kill her!” Angel stated, waving at her.

“I'd love to see the blood bath.” Niffty giggled watching.

“All I wanted was a place to rest for the night. Agh…” Carmilla felt that grip tighten.

The Devil narrowed her eyes and growled. “I'll give you a damn place to stay as you wish.” She dragged Carmilla to the dungeons and locked the woman inside. “Now stay there and enjoy your new home.”

“What?!” Carmilla snapped trying to get out to no avail. “Damn it…” She growled, lowering her head.

(Heyo, I hope you guys like the fic so far, I literally worked several hours on this part alone. I'm breaking this down into parts from Beginning Middle and End with the full version being on my Ao3 for all to read. Thanks for reading!)

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

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Ou! Another idea! It’s Sheriff reader’s day off & they’re at home, & the yandere bandits break into their home to steal stuff for their darling–not knowing it was their place, & reader comes out in a towel cuz they were bathing. How’d this go down?

(Made a slight change they do know it's your place)

Your little band of misfits crept quietly through the streets; stealthier that usual, for the special heist they had planned. Hours of searching for their dear sheriff's home, they had gotten a little tip from a kind stranger that you didn't even live in town to begin with.

A small cabin just a few miles beyond the towns border is where you called home. It's where the bandits were heading right now, but not exactly to steal from you-even if they were gonna snag a couple things.

The bandits had decided to share the profits of their recent heists with you. This town didn't pay you enough, and they just wanted to give a little something to the honorary member of the group. They most definitely weren't interested in searching through the home of the target mutual affections. No siree.

Just like the stranger said, your house was located a few yards from civilization. A cozy little place, surrounded by a picket fence and about a dozen signs telling people to stay off the property. The group took turns writing little love notes on each one with their names tagged beneath.

They rounded the house, finding an open window when to what looked like your bedroom from what one of them saw. It was as quiet as a ghost town, and not a single light was on; the perfect opportunity. One by one, the bandits filter in through it. As the last one comes in, the leader stops them.

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa. What are you doing here?"

The bandit looks puzzled. "What do you mean?"

The leader groans. "You're supposed to be look out to make sure the sheriff isn't going home early.

"No, Matthew was... I think-. I'm sure it'll be fine."

They push past the other and join the rest in looking through your belongings. They start hiding things around your room. Jewelry, cash, small trinkets that could catch a pretty penny. It'd be no fun if you found all their gifts at one time.

In the same breath, they steal things of yours to take home. "Don't take anything they wouldn't miss." Is the leaders only rule. One grabs a shirt from the back of your closet. Another, some old notes you'd tossed in the bin.

One Bandit strays off from the group and wonders off to explore other parts of your home. They grab the handle of a door; the knob rattling in its frame as they try to turn it. Locked- That was strange. Where you hiding something behind it? Hearing a faint noise, they put their ear to the door; face growing pale.

"Uh... Guys?"

You sigh in relaxation as you sink into the warm, soapy waters of your bath. It was your first day off in weeks, and you were going to make the most of it. You pitied the deputy who had to work in your place. Maybe you've make it up to them somehow. Probably not.

A radio on the counter played gentle tunes; candles places around the rim of the tub. Your bathroom didn't have windows so you didn't get that nice feel of sunshine, but the candles were a decent replacement.

When you get out to dry off is the first moment you pick up on something being off. You could've sworn you heard laughter from somewhere, but couldn't tell if it was from inside or out your house. The radio blocks out most of the sound, so you eventually drop your guard.

As you wrap the towel around your body to head out, the door knob jiggles. You have to do a double take to make sure you actually saw what you saw. There... was no way that someone actually broke into your house right? It was such a subtle movement that it could be a trick of the light. If someone really had enter your home, they were in a world of hurt for coming on the sheriff's land, and ignoring the warning signs.

You open the door to peak outside; frightening and almost causing the fall of the bandit that had just warned their friends of the sound. You groan internally as you recognize the bandana around their face. You don't know what you expected, but seeing the group of bandits that made your life a living hell was the last thing you wanted to see. Sadly enough, you honestly weren't even that surprised to see them.

The bandits turn in your direction as their partner in crime scrambles away; the door opening further without their weight upon it. Panic sweeps through them all, but that fear is quickly exchanged for a sense of timidity at your current wear.

Though your towel covered eighty percent of your body, hardly any of them had seen you without your uniform before. They thought you looked like a prize before, but seeing you in that state put you in a new light for them all. It was that authority you walked around and that pretty face that first attracted them to you, but now there was another element to the mix. Their tough shelled sheriff was a human being just like them; one hot enough to make sinners like them sweat.

You hold your towel to your chest with a look one could describe as calm anger. You really just wanted to enjoy your one day off.

"...You have ten seconds til I get the gun under the sink."

"...We can make it four if we get a peak."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere headcanons #yandere drabble #Yandere fic #yandere writing #Yandere Bandit #yandere harem

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techtalksfics · 1 year

Text

Where's your toothpick? (Crosshair x f!Reader)

Instead of studying, I have sat here and written this fic. It's quite rushed because I actually need to get my law degree. There are no degrees from bad batch lovers. Hope you enjoy.

Warnings: heavy drinking (i guess)

Word Count: 1,884

You and your best friend, Jenshay (or Jen, for short), often frequented 79s, the clone bar. You liked the stories the clones told, you liked that a fight happened every, single time. But most of all, you really liked Crosshair.

The only problem? It would seem that Crosshair did not like you.

You sighed at the thought. Shaking off your insecurities, you finished getting ready for the evening. Choosing out your favourite red dress, which tied at the waist, showed off both your figure and your breasts, you quickly push the dress over your head and pull it down.

The doorbell rang as you began to tie your dress. Swerving around furniture, you check the comm to make sure it was Jen. You had a persistent and unpleasant neighbour who always seemed to be in the corridor when you were arriving or leaving. You dreaded to think how.

Letting Jen in, you could already smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Jeez Jen,” you laughed, “already pre-drinking?”

“Always, you know me.” A rather sad statement to make, you thought. “So, you hoping for a certain silent sniper to be there this evening?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You retorted whilst fixing your hair in the mirror. Your friend snorted. You knew you liked Crosshair. She knew you liked Crosshair. Interestingly, Tech knew you liked Crosshair. So, who didn’t know at this point?

Well… Crosshair would be one of the only ones it would seem.

Grabbing your satchel, you grabbed her hand and pulled her to your door. Checking the comms for creepy neighbours quickly and seeing that the coast was clear, you both ran to the lift and left for your night out.

------------------------

As you exited the air taxi, you made sure that Jen did not trip and fall before you got to the door. So, you held her at the waist, just in case. She probably wasn’t drunk enough to be refused entry, but you didn’t want to risk it.

You’d heard the Bad Batch were temporarily in Coruscant, the first time in many, many rotations. So you did not want to miss your chance to… well, stare longingly, at Crosshair.

Luckily, you managed to get into the bar and were greeted by the Wolfpack. Your second favourite clone trooper squadron. Letting go of Jen’s waist, you were pulled into a hug by Commander Woolfe. You had grown close after he saved you from a potentially fatal mugging a few years earlier.

“It’s good to see you, kid.” His voice shouted into your ear. As you pulled back, he held you in place for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. He gave a smirk and said, “though based on those colours, it’s not this squadron you’re here to see.” He raised his eyebrow at you.

Great, is there anybody who doesn’t know, you wondered.

“There on the back table, as usual.” Woolfe hugged you once more and whispered, “I do not know what you see in that group of misfits.” Whilst returning the hug, your eyes drifted towards the back of the bar, where you saw Clone Force 99. A small smile graced your lips.

But before you could even approach them, one thing was in order. Grabbing Jen by her arm, you shouted, “SHOTS?” Liquid courage couldn’t hurt. Particularly as the sober one. She looked at you like you’d proposed marriage and shouted a big ‘yes’ back at you.

Pulling her to the bar, you managed to get the immediate attention of the bartender, who greeted you as she always does, with a smile and a ‘what can I get ya’? Like she doesn’t already know.

“Four Antakarian Fire-“ you start.

“- Fire Dancers, I should’a known.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “Coming right up.” As she prepares your drinks and Jen rambles on about her love of the Wolfpack, you take the chance to glance at the 99 boys. As your eyes drift over the familiar sights of Tech with his PADD typing away, Wrecker eating his food and Hunter broodingly watching the scenes happening before him, you noticed one thing. One off thing. Crosshair was looking directly at you and once he caught your gaze, he shifted the toothpick in his mouth from left to right and smirked.

With an embarrassed blush, you turn back to the bar and paid for the drinks which arrived right on cue.

After a ‘3, 2, 1’ countdown, you and Jen downed the first shot. The fire of the drink is undisputed, and your face squelched together from the warm, strong alcohol goes down your throat.

Because you were unlucky, Crosshair walked past at the exact moment that your face had contorted into a horrific image after taking the shot. He walked past, eyebrow raised and as usual, said nothing. Great, you cursed.

Downing the second shot in shame, you asked the bartender for a Revnog before making your way over to see your favourite clones. With a smile, you sat down next to Wrecker and offered up a ‘hello’.

“Ah, we wondered if we would see you here tonight,” Tech said, placing the PADD down temporarily. He was always willing to chat with you.

“Y/N!” Wrecker bellowed, “if it isn’t our favourite civilian!” You laughed as he spoke, grabbing you around the shoulder, pulling you in for a side hug.

“She’s the only civilian you know, Wrecker.” Crosshair commented as he made his way around the table. “Y/N, shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Jen?” He said, pointing his toothpick at Jen. You turned and saw she had, in fact, gotten on the table to dance. You put your face in your hands and turned back to face them.

“She’d been pre-drinking before we came out.” You took a sip of your drink. “The Wolfpack are here though, so she won’t be able to do too much damage without them stepping in.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the handsome soldier. Instead, you turned your attention to Tech with an awkward cough, “what are you working on today then, Tech?”

As Tech explained, in detail, his latest research on tactical droid schematics and tactics, you listened intently. Occasionally, your eyes would drift to Crosshair…as they always do. Usually, he does not pay attention to you but not tonight, tonight he looked at you with fiery gaze. One you could not discern. It was unsettling but you could feel your skin heating and the blush on your face darkened.

Well, at least it was dark in this place.

As you finished your drink, you announced that you were going to get a round for the table. Stumbling upwards, and cursing for your lack of grace, you made your way back to the bar. Back to safety.

Jen noticed you and clambered off the table, she flounced over to you and asked, “how’s it going the Crosshair?”

“I’d have better luck seducing a Rancor.” You moaned.

----------------------

“I don’t understand why you don’t just talk to her.” Hunter goaded Crosshair, “she’s a sweet girl.”

“I don’t like sweet things.” Crosshair retorted, taking a quick sip of his drink.

“Well, you like this sweet thing.” Wrecker’s laugh boomed around the bar which caused Crosshair to cringe, physically retreating further into the darkness.

However, he couldn’t help but look at you. Your gorgeous brown hair curling around your shoulders and back, swaying as you laughed at whatever Jen had said. You were wearing red and dark grey, his red and dark grey. Was that on purpose? He had secretly loved how you always sat with his brothers on these rare nights out. Nobody would normally do that. He also secretly loved when your green eyes always drifted towards him.

The entire Wolfpack loved you; he’d even seen you with the 501st battalion on occasion. But you always looked at him.

Secretly, and he would never admit it, he liked almost everything about you. He grumbled nothingness to himself and stayed routed in the corner.

---------------------------

After a few more drinks, you decided Jen had better go home. You signalled Commander Woolf as he was always good at convincing Jen that she’d had too much.

Woolf rushed straight over and backed you up when you told Jen she should go home and sleep it off.

She whined but complied and stumbled slightly. She let out a ridiculous laugh and held her arm out to you. You held her up as she shouted, “I’m being booted from the building boys, I’ll see ya soon!” There came a number of ‘byes’ and even one ‘I’ll take you home, princess’ which was disturbing, to say the least.

Helping Jen to the door, Woolf politely held it open for you and you exited into the cool night. The air hit your lungs and the booze hit your system. Jesus, maybe you should go home too. First, Jen. Get Jen into an air taxi. So you did your duty, as you had done many times before. As the taxi sped away, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d be holding. Staring out as the speeders raced on pass the bar, you debated your next steps.

“I could go back in and try again,” you debated allowed, “who am I kidding? He’s never going to want me.”

“They say talking to yourself is a sign of insanity, you know.” Crosshair’s grizzly baritone came from behind you. You screwed your eyes shut. Of course he’s behind you right now. You turned on your heel to face him and retorted, “I never once said I was sane.” He smirked and uttered one word, true.

He took two small steps towards you, the movement was confident. He knew you couldn’t step backwards as you’d fall your death, so you were trapped. Trapped worked for him.

“So,” he said, taking the toothpick out of his mouth, “who doesn’t want you?” Knowing you were trapped, you tried to think of a quick way out of this.

Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was your inability to think about anything in his presence, you weren’t sure. But you uttered one word back, “you.” He took another step forward and suddenly he was close that you could feel his armour pressing against your exposed cleavage.

“I never once said I didn’t want you.” He was mimicking your words, toying with you, surely.

And yet, within the next second, his lips were on yours. The kiss was fierce, as you always thought it would be. His hands came up to cup your face as he deepened the kiss. His hands were not only holding your face to his but at this point, were holding you upright.

Your hands found his waist, pulling him closer to you. His tongue invaded your mouth, playing with yours. Toying with you, as he always does. He pulled back ever so slightly and you were worried the kiss was ending but instead, his nose rubbed over yours gently and he approached you from the other side. He deepened the kiss once again.

When he finally pulled back to look at you, you realised something. “Where’s your toothpick gone?” “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” He chuckled darkly and looked at you, with a slight squint. “I have more. Don’t worry.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair fic #star wars bad batch #star wars tbb #tech bad batch #hunter bad batch #wrecker bad batch

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yacinthemorning · 4 months

Text

Tailored to Your Liking

Chapter 6

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Summary: Tumble Town attracts all sorts of misfits looking for a fresh start on the frontier, but everyone still needs clothes. Be it extra limbs or high temperatures, Jimmy caters to every hybrid's needs.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (slow burn romantic), Grian/Mumbo/Scar (romantic), Joel/Lizzie (romantic)

Warnings: Implied traumatic events, awkward flirting, burns, verbal fight, anxiety attack

The party was in only a few days. Jimmy had received his formal invitation, delivered just that morning. In the city someone like him would never be invited to such an event, but he supposed it would be quite a boring party if only Lizzie, Grian, Fwhip, and Beef were in attendance. With significant others included the numbers were slightly better, but certainly nothing worth making a big deal about.

That was not what really occupied his mind, though. He had asked Lizzie in advance while working on her dress just to be sure. Sure enough, the letter included an invitation to not just Jimmy.

He suspected Tango had caught on to things rather quickly when Jimmy began asking for measurements and adjustments. Now, though, he had the invitation in hand. Now he could ask, and with a formal invitation directly addressed to the man the hardest part was already done for him. Or so he thought.

“There was a letter for you.” He said, passing Tango his invitation. “One for each of us. Do you need me to read it?”

Tango took up the letter, unfolding it. He squinted at the text. “No, it’s trying me, but no.” As his eyes scrolled slowly, he formed the words on his breath, stumbling over some of Lizzie’s more verbose choices. The intent was clear, however, with the location and date attached. His eyes lit up. “Oh! The party? I’m invited?”

“Yes.” Jimmy said, stiff as a board as he watched Tango reread the letter. “Um-”

Tango looked up at him, and he froze. Come on, Jimmy, the hardest part is already done for you, he chastised himself. It made him no more able to move than he had been.

Concern began to ease into Tango’s expression. “What? What’s wrong? Did I- uh, did I miss something? Am I just going there to serve drinks or something?”

“No!” Jimmy latched onto Tango’s forearms. Red painted his face as he tried to force the words out. He took a deep breath and looked away. “I just- Um. Well, given that it is a very large party and since Lizzie was so kind as to invite us both, which is indeed very nice of her as it means that we are both able to attend this most lovely celebration individually on our own, I was nevertheless curious as to your plans for attendance, as I find in social events it is quite fashionable and advantageous to ones enjoyment if you are to be sociable in your attendance-”

“Uh, Jim? English would be nice.” Tango interrupted, a claw to his lip to prevent himself from laughing.

A wheeze escaped the avian in attempt to cool his head and clear his vision. “Would you like to go with me?” Finally escaped him, high pitched and ending almost a bit too early. “… To the party, that is.”

Perhaps he was so pathetic looking that Tango chose to take pity on Jimmy, as he managed to stop himself from nearly laughing to instead gaze fondly towards the avian. “Yeah, of course I would.”

It was as though all the air left Jimmy at once, deflating him until his wings collected dust off the floor, before he pulled himself back together. He went over to his desk and pulled from it a set of very carefully folded clothes. “Then, um, I suppose my next question is that- well, I understand if you wouldn’t want to but I happen to make this for you and would you perhaps like to wear it- them- uhm…” A high-pitched trill escaped him, trying to release the tension that was quickly rebuilding in his muscles.

To this, though, Tango frowned. He took a cautious step forward, hesitantly brushing a finger across the material. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Panic filled Jimmy. Had Tango already bought a suit like Impulse had? No, he only just found out he was going. Unless someone had let slip earlier and this was all a ruse and Grian and Scar were behind the curtains laughing to themselves at what a fool Jimmy was making of himself-

“I won’t- It looks expensive. Will they be okay? Should I even be going to party like this?” Tango mumbled, ears pinned back. His tail twitched behind him until it found his ankle and wrapped tight around it.

Right. Jimmy’s expression eased. “Of course they will be. How many pieces have I made for you? And you haven’t so much as singed a shirt yet.”

“But I will eventually-”

“Oh, yes, most certainly.” He waved off, even as Tango’s face fell. He went back to his work desk to the bag of clothing waiting there. “And Impulse will catch his trousers of his scales, Hermes will wear a hole into every knee patch no matter how thick the material, and Scott’s leather jacket will grow moldy from all the melted frost- eventually. You know what happens?” He patted the bag a bit harshly. “They come back here and I fix them! Or replace them, whichever is needed. Clothes are supposed to be worn, and quite frankly I’ve trimmed more burnt hems from Mumbo than you.”

“Yeah, but Mumbo pays you to fix them-”

Jimmy’s feathers flared. “I don’t do this to be paid, Tango. I make clothes for hybrids because everyone needs clothes. You deserve a shirt that fits you. And…”

There was a long pause where Tango waited for Jimmy to continue. “And?” He finally asked.

“And, well, they’re already made so there’s nothing you can much do about it, is there? You might as well wear them. Right now, in fact. I’d like to see how well they fit.” He insisted, patting his own pants nervously. It wasn’t quite what he’d intended to say, but Tango did not need to know that.

Luckily, it seemed that was good enough for Tango, who looked still a bit unsure but resigned to having lost this battle. “Alright.” He said as he went towards the curtains. Internally, Jimmy cheered. He went to work organizing his things for adjustments while he waited.

The curtains ruffled, and Jimmy eagerly shot his head up once more.

It felt, for the briefest moment, that this set of evening-wear had been everything Jimmy’s career had been for. Morning light cast onto the dark coat, lighting the burgundy threads of his vest that hugged comfortably to Tango’s waist. His trousers sat well on his hips, forming the silhouette with ease where they draped down to his shoes, and he brass buttons matched well to his hair. Jimmy had been unsure how well formal attire would take to Tango. Now, he wondered why he ever worried.

Tango fiddled with the sleeves, tail twitching behind him when he made eye contact with Jimmy. “So, um, what’s the diagnosis?” He tried to joke, though Jimmy could see him physically shrink into the clothing.

Jimmy shook his head and approached, pulling at the hem of the coat in a test. “I feel as though I deserve a medal of some sort. I’ve managed to get you into an outfit nearly as handsome as yourself.” He said before he could think.

A toothy grin stretched to cover pink cheeks. “Really? Well, if it’s a reward you want-”

“A medal, I said a medal!” Jimmy spun around, hiding his own flushed face under his palm. It would be just his luck to put himself in this situation. Was there any other humiliation he could heap onto the situation? “Well, i-it appears I’ve managed to get the fitting done well enough the first time, for once. Try not to get it dirty before the party.”

“I’ll do my best,” Tango said, soon followed by the rattle of curtains once more.

Double checking over his shoulder that Tango was out of view, Jimmy let himself slump against the edge of his desk, running his hands down his face as he pulled his ruffled feathers in. “Void below, just swallow me whole.” He hissed to himself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing!” Jimmy shot up, and marched towards the stairs. “I’m going to prepare lunch.” Maybe it would keep him occupied from jumping into a well.

It was at last the evening of Lizzie’s party. Grian’s carriage rolled to stop after a ride that was far too long for Jimmy’s liking. His brother filed out first, Scar at his side while Mumbo stepped after them so Grian could shield him from the long sunset as he pulled up his parasol. Jimmy followed next, holding his hand out for Tango to take. The blazeborn almost missed it entirely, busy gaping at the opulent doorway into Lizzie’s mansion.

“Oh, you’ve made it!” A bearded man in an emerald suit called to them as they approached. Behind his leg was a small boy in an equally garish violet outfit, but Jimmy bravely restrained his critique.

Instead he bowed, “Sausage... Hermes.” The young bow ducked further behind his papa, fledgling wings tucked tight over his shoulders.

“And who is this?”

Tango’s tail twitched nervously as attention turned to him. His smile stretched into an awkward thing, bowing hesitantly. “This is Tango... of the Tek variety.” His voice was barely a whisper, breaking at his own surname. Or was it a title? Jimmy had never thought to ask before. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you’re the little house guest I’ve heard too much about!” Sausage giggled, to which Jimmy felt his ears become hot.

Tango shrugged. “I see my failures precede me.”

“Oh, shush, you have no such reputation!” Jimmy snapped, too embarrassed to have patience for his companion’s self-deprecation. Both Sausage and Tango jumped, eyes wide, before their expressions fell into amusement, Tango’s watered down by embarrassment. A look was exchanged between the two men in silence. “What?” Jimmy demanded.

“It’s nothing, dear, I’m glad you were both able to make it.” Sausage dodged entirely, moving on to greet the next arrivals while Tango ushered them towards the main party. At the first sight of the decorated venue Jimmy’s annoyance melted instantly. Redstone lamps dotted the garden like moons among the stars of candles and lanterns. Most of the guests, consisting of almost the entire town, already mulled among one another. Some had taken to dancing to the band’s lovely tune. Skirts and tails flared about, hugging to their wearers’ bodies as they stopped to spin the other way.

Jimmy spent a long extended moment enraptured by the simple dance they’d grouped to perform. He jumped as he was torn away from it by a touch to his arm. Tango looked up at him, lost and tail lashing. “So um, what do you do at a fancy person party?” He asked. A passing couple let out a small chuckle. Unrelated, as they had not even glanced Tango’s way, yet nevertheless caused Tango to shrink closer to Jimmy.

Jimmy softened, straightening the already ruffled collar of Tango’s coat before tilting his head towards a nearby servant carrying a tray of champagne, “How about we start by depressurizing you before you turn into diamond?” He teased, then guided his stunned companion over.

A few minutes later the band went quiet. Tango paused from emptying his second glass. Jimmy directed him towards the balcony, where Joel stood near the door. From the dim interior light Lizzie’s silhouette emerged until she stepped out into the torchlight. Her gown trailed like flowing water behind her, and Jimmy couldn’t help puff up his feathers at the few gasps and whispers among the crowd.

She raised her hands high. “Welcome, beloved citizens of Tumble Town, and thank you for being here! Food will be served at ten, and until then I hope we can all enjoy each other’s company.” The guessed muttered agreement, Lizzie giving them a moment before she continued. “Before we continue, however, I have some exciting news to share with you. I, your beautiful and humble mayor, have been coordinating with the Luxo Company with the aid of Mister Fwhip and Mister Goodtimes-”

A series of groans broke out among Scar’s victims. The man himself seemed oblivious, smiling widely in anticipation, while Grian had fluffed up defensively beside him. “- And starting this month they will begin the construction of the Tumble Town rail line, which will reach all the way next to our trading post. No longer will our quaint town be limited by a quarter day’s ride to the nearest station!”

Jimmy brightened up from the wariness Scar’s mention had brought. “Oh, it’s about time.” He chirped, turning to Tango, who seemed a bit perplexed. “Though, I’ll miss the quiet.”

“I suppose so.” Tango said, his gaze off in the distance. “It’ll be a lot easier to get your textiles.”

“It’ll be easier to get many things.” But the way Tango seemed distracted began to worry Jimmy. He gave the man a moment, only vaguely listening to the end of Lizzie’s speech. When it became clear Tango had no intention to speak his mind on his own he finally asked, “Are you alright?”

“Hm? Oh!” Tango’s head swivelled, a wide assuring smile directed towards Jimmy. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t all that assuring.”

“No, it’s- uh, hey! Would you like to dance?”

The shift had Jimmy’s mind reeling for a moment, and only a moment, before excitement took over. In his haste towards where the guests began to return to dancing, Jimmy forgot entirely of the odd interaction, or even to reply.

They didn’t get far. Tango awkwardly took up Jimmy’s hands in some approximation of the concept of a two person dance from someone who had never danced in their lives. Then, he froze, unsure what to do next.

No, not on Jimmy’s watch. If he was honest the dancing was his main incentive to show to these parties at all. He pushed Tango’s grip away and corrected it, guiding the blazeborn’s hand to his shoulder. Tango seemed more than happy to have the lead taken from him as they began. He stumbled along after Jimmy, eyes on his feet. It was Tango, though, after all, and quickly the little genius picked up the steps.

“That’s it, just a bit shorter a step.” Jimmy chirped, picking up their pace and pulling them into the whirlpool of dancing couples. Tango yelped as the hem of a woman’s gown brushed his tail like it burnt, though his tail was the one that crackled with a stray ember. It wove itself around his waist. A frown pulled at Jimmy’s lips. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Tango squeaked, straightening his back until he was pressed close and Jimmy had to make sure they did not trip over one another. “Ye-yeah, yeah, totally fine. Definitely fine, not combustificating at all!”

Ridiculous. Jimmy snorted. With one swift spin he corrected their stance and pulled the blazeborn further from the dense crowd. “You silly man.” He chastised while Tango recomposed, though with every ounce of affection that had spilled over his heart. “What did I do without you?”

Well, he certainly hadn’t meant to let that one slip out. Nor had Tango been expecting it either. Face beet red, he stuttered in his already unsteady steps. If not for Jimmy’s quick reaction they would have been down for the count. Not something Jimmy’s dignity would have been able to recover from any time soon. Instead Tango stumbled right into Jimmy, only held up by the avian’s grip around his waist. The world seemed to quiet, Tango staring up at him with wide eyes. Jimmy, too, was entranced in shock.

Then there was the subtle smell of burning fibre.

Both men snapped out of it to follow the scent to Jimmy’s arm, where Tango tightly held onto his sleeve. A sleeve which was currently smouldering.

Jimmy yelped, more in surprise than pain. He released Tango to smack down the flames. It had not spread, was hardly a fire to begin with, and was smothered in seconds. Tango had fully removed himself by then, hands tucked away and face twisted with guilt. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

“I am.” He was quick to reply. There was a blackened patch and small hole on the sleeve of his coat. Painfully noticeable, but it was not what he was worried about. Tango shrunk further away when Jimmy reached out for him. Jimmy beckoned for him but it was no use. Blown out pupils were locked on the burnt patch. “Tango, it’s completely fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Tango’s hair flared, dancing erratically while his tail wrapped tight around his leg.

There was no convincing him right now, Jimmy knew. He searched the party, noticing a few concerned stares. Out beyond a table there was a pergola leading to the back exit of the garden. Unable to reach out, he tipped a wing towards it instead. “I’ll go get something to drink, why don’t you wait there?”

Tango seemed more than happy to have a shadowy corner to retreat into. While flagging down a waiter Jimmy caught Mumbo approaching from his own dreary corner. “Is everything alright, Jim?” He asked, His concerned expression for once not illuminated red by his parasol.

“Tango just singed my coat a bit and now has silly ideas.” He sighed, taking the chance to assess the damage more thoroughly.

“He’s quite prone to that, that seems.” Mused Mumbo. When Jimmy looked up the vampire was scratching his moustache. A dangerous sign.

“I’m sorry Mumbo, but I have enough to deal with already right now, please don’t make things more complicated.”

Mumbo sputtered, “Wh- well that’s a bit rude, first of all! Second of all, I wasn’t planning to make it any more complicated. I was simply going to ask if you wanted me to accompany you back over.”

Fair enough, Jimmy supposed. “I think it would only cause him more distress, but thank you.”

“If you’re sure.” The waiter returned, and Mumbo stepped out of the way. “But I would know a thing or two about living in an unfriendly world. Poor thing.”

Jimmy paused, gaping at Mumbo, but decided to keep quiet and leave with only a solemn nod.

Back at the pergola, Tango had not even allowed himself the comfort of sitting down on a wooden bench. He hardly looked up when Jimmy approached, taking the glass from him in silence. They waited there for too long. Tango’s hair had gone from crackling to slightly disturbed. It wasn’t a sign that he had calmed, Jimmy knew, but he was in control.

“Sorry for ruining your night.” He muttered.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “You ought to apologize to yourself.”

“I didn’t burn myself.”

“You didn’t burn me, either.”

“But I could.”

His feathers raised. “But you wouldn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter if I would!” Tango snapped, flinching back at his own voice alongside Jimmy. He turned away, putting the glass down. Flicking his wrist towards the wooden bench, then the vine walls, then the crowds of guests twirling just out of earshot of their conversation. “I’m a bull in a china shop, Jim. The desert frontier sounded brilliant on paper, but all it really was is a box of dried kindling, ready and waiting for the first spark.”

“Tango...” Jimmy said, wanting to reach out. Tango made sure to keep a good couple feet between them.

“And what have I done since I came here, anyways? Nearly burn my coworkers alive? Almost blown up the town’s main source of income? Lose my job, become a leech, threaten your livelihood, make a scene at a party. Y’all do so much just so I can-” He huffed out smoke, turning towards the garden exit. “I shouldn’t be here...”

Jimmy lurched forward, snapping talons closed around Tango’s wrist. He scowled, startling the blazeborn enough to stop him in his tracks and allow Jimmy to yank him back away from the exit. “You stupid, stubborn fool! Would you get out of your own head long enough to actually listen for once!”

“I-”

“You think you’re unique? We live in the desert and our mayor is a fish! Do you know how much water we have to dig for? We never get less than a half-day of the harshest sunlight and Mumbo cannot take well enough care of his parasol to quite literally save his life! Cleo cannot look anyone here in the eye, and Scott might as well be an ice sculpture who can’t leave his shop until supper time! And Scar- Scar’s never made an honest copper in his life, on the rare occasion he does at all!”

Jimmy threw his hand out towards the crowd of dancers, laughing and twirling happily among each other. “If you don’t belong here, then who does? For goodness’ sake, your hair’s a ball of fire, no one is approaching you without knowing what they’re getting into. I- we want you here. We don’t care how useful or normal you are. What is so hard for you to wrap your head around that you’re allowed to exist?”

Tango gaped, red eyes wide and ears pinned back. Jimmy wasn’t leaving until he answered, whether Tango liked it or not. He glared, daring the man to say something ridiculous once more. “It-” Stuttered Tango like a machine lurching to life, trying to reconcile all its parts. “That’s just how it is. I’ve gone ‘round half the world and that’s how it always was.”

“And so what? Then it’s a good thing you’re here and not there!” Jimmy tried to soften his voice before he exploded and received the attention of the whole party, but it only caused it to crack. Maybe he’d been too harsh, maybe he shouldn’t have shouted. Under all the subsiding anger he could still feel his heart pounding, feathers still on end.

A sigh escaped him. “I’m still just a bother, here or anywhere.”

“I wish you would be more of one.” Jimmy’s voice was small. He reached out for Tango’s hand, snatching it up before he could react. “I wish you’d just let me take care of you.”

“There isn’t enough work here, Jim. You can barely take care of yourself.”

“It’ll grow soon! When more people come-”

“You can’t make more clothes than you already are.”

“I’ll increase the prices, then!”

Tango’s expression fell, “No, you won’t. You can barely stand charging people at all.”

“Tango, please,” Jimmy pulled Tango’s hand to his pounding heart. “Don’t leave.” The rim of his eyes felt hot. Why was he so pathetic?

“Oh, Jim.” Tango murmured, his tail curling around the avian’s ankle.

“At least wait- at least wait until your clothes are done. Please, at least that long.” Words poured out of his mouth from the mess made of his brain. “I just don’t understand. What’s wrong with this?”

No reply came for long while. Jimmy was beginning to panic – was even that too much to ask? - when Tango shook his hand free. For a moment Jimmy thought he was about to leave then and there right out the garden gate. He’s been so pathetic Tango couldn’t be bothered to wait another minute before running off to the next town. But Tango stayed put, and his hands went to his jacket pocket.

He pulled something out, something that glowed bright at even the smallest glance from the torches. “I’m not good with... Here.”

It was small, about the length of his thumb, shiny like gold though Jimmy wasn’t sure how it could be, in the shape of a songbird on a perch. Though clearly not made by a proper goldsmith, the delicate details were done with great care.

Jimmy’s head shot back up to Tango. His eyes were downcast, and Jimmy would have loved to say his red cheeks were from embarrassment or fondness, but the way his face was twisted it was more like shame. “This is-”

“It’s brass.” Tango intruded. “It should be gold, but I couldn’t... I was hoping it’d just be a prototype. Y’know, a stand in for the real thing once I could make it. But I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.” He finally looked up, miserable. “That’s me, Jimmy. I’m a waste of your time, I can’t even afford to court you.”

Everything clicked into place then. It was almost embarrassing for Jimmy to admit he’d entirely put out of his mind Tango being a blazeborn, from the nether. Why nothing he could say on this particular topic made it through his thick skull.

Perhaps Tango wasn’t the only one who forgot to appreciate how disparate the townsfolk all really were.

The dinner bell rang in the distance. Tango pulled himself together. “I’ll stay until I can pay you back.” He promised.

For once Jimmy kept his mouth shut. Any of the things that might come out if he did could only make things worse, he knew. He took a deep breath and tried his best to recompose himself, holding the little brass bird to his stomach. When he thought he could move, Jimmy tentatively held out his hand. Whatever expression his face was twisted in was not nearly as calm as he wished, desperate or pathetic in all likelihood. Tango took moment, staring at Jimmy’s hand like it might turn into a snake, or maybe like it might shatter. Maybe both. He settled on taking it either way, giving it the weakest squeeze that was far from assuring.

They made their way to the dining hall in silence. Lizzie’s old grandfather clock chimed ten as they passed.

#jimmy solidarity #tangotek #trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #rancher duo #traffic series #hermitpires #fanfic #fanfiction #mcyt #hurt/comfort #alternate universe #western fantasy #sharing a slice of cake

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kibbits · 28 days

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It’s been a while crocodile! How have you been? Keeping hydrated/medicated/fed I hope. Things been better lately for me. I got to ugly cry over the newest chapter of Epic the Musical and my Greek Mythology hyper fixation crossing in might as well been a train wreck.

I come with another question, What plays that the Bal!Boys have done or the kind of genre of plays that the Glamrocks would enjoy? (I just have this idea that maybe the boys when they’re on friendly terms with the others will do private shows after the pizza plex closes. So that way they can also enjoy the boy’s plays and bond with some of the kids coming out of the theater during the day because they can gush back and forth about the newest production.)

- ✨ Starry ✨

Starryyyy!!!!! I missed you!!! I've been thinking of you lately ahaha

I am, I am!! Need to drink more water but I've got some tea and snacks rn after spending the day outside in the sun! <33

Oooh!!! Adding it to The List! It's looking interesting!! And rip to double hyperfixation combo ghfglj I hope YOU'RE staying hydrated/medicated/well fed! Love when a piece of media makes me ugly-cry pff Oooh I got to rewatch Little Shop of Horror the other day!! Still amazing (Iiii am a deeentiiiist~)

Been pestered into working on a playlist for BaL!AU maybe : O It'll be my first playlist really

In typical Kibs fashion, answering your actual question under the readmore flkjgdk

I've thought about the first question for a while, actually! The answer changes every time pff I want to say maybe they used to do classics? But like. Fazbearified Classics. Like-- Fazbear™ Presents: Hamlet

...Except that the Glamrocks are busy doing their shows, so they had to slap cheap Glamrock costumes from the gift shop onto S.T.A.F.F. bots to play the roles dflkjldj Think the recent uuuh Wonka experience? whatever tf that was.

(God now I'm thinking about your hyperfixation and thinking of a S.T.A.F.F. bot greek chorus fjdjd)

They would absolutely do private shows! And encourage them to take part, too! For fun and also art/theatre therapy is a thing djdjd Also I'm gonna give genre/movies/plays examples, but I think for the renewal they often come up with their own plays! Like maybe they'll be given hamlet and it'll be a retelling instead of just. slapping the brand on it (Chica of the seaaaaa)

Anyway! I think that Monty is probably an obvious fan of action, comedy, maybe secretly a bit of romance and fairy tales? Not a fan of the classics though - or, like, not shakespearean for sure. Stories about misfits or monsters who end up loved is a sure way to get him emotional (he likes to play the big bad sometimes when they do a play together, it's fun when it's a role and not something that's slapped onto your reputation) (he would be a fan of Beauty and the Beast I think)

Roxy I think would like rock?? Like uuh I think she'd get into Little Shop or Horror or even Rocky Horror Picture show (i think her and Monty would get way into the music actually djdjd stomping along) She'd love things like Wicked too, I think. Her Chica and the celestial boys will have an 80s girls night sometimes fjfjf think Grease

Chica loves peppy, fun stories, like say Hairspray or Legally Blonde djdnd though she does love a sad story with a good ending. I think she would love anything soap opera like and get really into it pff Very gossipy and dramatic

Freddy is DEFINITELY a romantic, loves the classics, things like Singing in the Rain

Bonus: I think maybe after the massive improvement in the boys' uuuuh Suitability to Interact with Humans probably looks very promising to Fazbear Corporates. I think, maybe, the stage/theater can become a lucrative space to test bringing back more decomissioned bots... maybe a certain fox and bunny?

The boys cite the new revenue from the theater and the need for more main roles to get them to bring back Foxy at first (maybe even as something like Captain Hook??)

They're confined to the stage at first so even if something was 'wrong' they get minimal direct interaction with the actual humans until deemed safe/graduated from the theater. I think Foxy sticks around or maybe gets pirate cove back.

Bonnie's reveal kind of floors Freddy, oh boy (and of course they DO plan a dramatic reveal in a private show with Freddy, cause well they dont want Freddy to lose him twice so they work very hard to make sure everything is good to go/he won't be redecommissioned before revealing him at the climax of a play) They come up with an elaborate play for Bonnie, maybe something like Sleeping Beauty? (thanks Eyndr!) where they cast Freddy as the prince and he expects like. a S.T.A.F.F. bot in a wig, and instead he finds Bonnie trying not to laugh and snickering and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen and he bursts into tears (static??) immediately.

Both stick around. I like to think that Bonnie doesn't actually want to rejoin the band at this point tho hell be close to Freddy Chica and Foxy. Maybe he even takes over the daycare himself? For some reason I see him as this mellow tired art teacher/caretaker when he comes back for good.

I see Foxy as helping work out the kids' energy and hes a bit of a gremlin himself, scurrying like a gremlin like Moon and very loud and dramatic acting. And also YN is well versed in LARPing so he gets a very very padded, not sharp/dangerous hook with the core still solid enough to actually be used as a prosthesis.

Anyway ye!!! Acting is good for all of them, either to work out emotions, or for fun, or to learn new tools for their own work (setting up a character so that they can be free to be themselves in their off time without worrying about the bleed-through/to help set up work/free time boundaries), and I think they end up putting up plays for each other even! Also, all the movie nights.

Thanks so much for the questions aa!

See ya later, alligator!! <33

#asks #beloved Starry ✨#break a leg!au #man I wanna do that animatic real bad but so much stuff to do #oh my god I just realized again that it's still really the autism/masking au fjdjdjdjd

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snippychicke · 8 months

Text

For the Sake of a Smile (V.2) Chapter Twenty-One

Title: For the Sake of a Smile (Revised)

Overall Rating: Mature (18+)

Chapter Rating: M for Mature. We've begun the 18+ content

Trigger warnings: Nothing beyond the child abuse hinted in the series, though we do explore the consequences a bit more.

Main Pairing: Balam Shichiro/Reader

Summary: Hell on earth was your motto for your job. Granted, you were pretty sure earth really was hell, considering the shit you had seen in your life. And the fact your coworker was a child.

A child named Suzuki Iruma, in fact. A kid who’s life was decidedly worse than yours, but yet he smiled despite everything. It wasn’t long after meeting him that you decided you’d do a lot for his smile. Including summoning a literal demon and signing your soul away.

But as it turns out, hell (The Netherworld, actually) was a lot better than living on earth. Demons were more humane than a lot of humans you knew.

And Iruma’s smile wasn’t the only one that would change your life.

Masterlist | Ao3| Mairimashitai! Simps Discord

"I am the worst mother ever!" You bawled as you buried your face in Sullivan's shoulder as he held you close, doing his best to comfort you. "I can't believe I forgot Iruma's birthday!"

"You've been under a lot of stress, sweetie," Your adoptive father reassured, rubbing circles along your back. "I'm sure Iruma understands, you know how he is."

"That makes it worse," You cried. You knew Iruma would forgive you and shrug it off, if he hadn’t already. After all, Shichiro had said he hadn’t seemed too concerned about it, nor was he lying.

But to you, his disregard was worse than him being upset. It was a stark reminder that until just a few years ago, Iruma never had his birthday celebrated. No one -- not even his own parents -- cared for him enough to take the time and celebrate his life..

It tore at your heart because you knew even if he didn't act like it, you were positive your lapse of memory had reminded him of those dark days. Did he think you were as careless as his biological parents? That now that your lives had improved, you didn't want to celebrate such things?

"Then let's make it up to our boy, hmm?" Sullivan offered, breaking through your thoughts as he tilted your chin to look at him and wipe your tears. "We’ll throw him a party for this year and all the birthdays I missed as well."

You nodded your head eagerly at the idea, the thought sounding perfect to you.

Yes. You would make up for lost time; not just the last few weeks, but the ones you had missed as well, from birth until that fateful day you met him. To make sure Iruma knew exactly how loved and cherished he was.

--+--

You were quick to learn that Demonic Rites were the devilish version of a grand birthday party. While Opera and Sullivan took the lead coordinating the event since they were experts in the field, you helped as best you could such as choosing some of the dishes to be served and picking out the presents. Yet the greatest task you had was making sure Iruma was kept preoccupied as not to notice anything was amiss, which the entirety of the Misfit class was all too happy to assist with once you confided in them.

While traditionally Demonic Rites were saved for milestone birthdays - with much smaller events for the other years - Sullivan was all too happy to use the excuse that it was the first birthday he was able to celebrate with his grandson to excuse the celebration. He was apparently going all out from what you could gather, renting a whole other castle.

Though as it turned out, that was tradition as well. Even demons believed in bad luck and holding a Rite in your own dwelling was a surefire way to invoke misfortune. It was also the reason for the costumes; in case Bad Luck spirits did find the revelers.

Apparently, spirits couldn't curse you if they couldn't recognize you. To you, it didn’t make much sense, but you weren’t going to balk at tradition. At least, not this one.

"Life is precious in the Netherworld," Shichiro explained over the phone the evening before the Rite. He had been a wealth of information about the traditions over the whirlwind of the week. "Our world is harsh, and once upon a time it was not uncommon for a demon to be killed before reaching adulthood. So we take every precaution to protect it, especially when we celebrate it.

"It's also a time where demons show their gratitude for their peers. After all, demons do not frequently bond the way humans do, and showing appreciation and kinship is usually very rare. The Misfit class are truly misfits in that regard…"

They certainly were. Not just for demons, but you had a feeling that even on earth they'd be an odd bunch. Yet you couldn't help but love all of them, hearing the debacle that occurred earlier that day as they fought over who was Iruma's friend and who was the boy's 'soulmate'.

You had to agree, Clara and Az seemed to be Iruma’s platonic (or so you assumed, at least) soulmates. Those three had a bond like no other that it was heartwarming, inspiring, and slightly terrifying when you thought of what those three could do if they wanted.

But the entire class itself was bonded tighter than any friend group you had seen - let alone experienced. You were sure that those thirteen students could achieve anything if they set their mind to it. And somehow, Iruma was more-or-less the ringleader of their troupe.

"You're coming tomorrow, right?" You asked Shichiro, glancing at the costume that hung from your closet door. Both Sullivan and Opera had assisted with choosing it…

Well - they had done more than assist, to be honest. It was more like they had chosen it and you meekly agreed when you saw the looks on their faces. Not that it was something you hated or even disliked; it was beautiful, and something that had caught your eye right away.

Your only reservation was the fact it was so… decadent, even for a costume ball. It had such beautiful wispy fabric that flowed with the slightest breeze, the waist framed with a corset-vest that - thankfully - hadn't felt too uncomfortable when you tried it on, and a high neckline that would hide your lack of wings.

And a crown of flowers and faux horns that completed the piece.

You worried it was too fancy, but assumed the two demons would know best. You also couldn’t help but wonder what Shichiro's reaction to it would be. After all, no matter what you wore -- a casual outfit or something more special -- his gaze always lingered enough to cause you to feel beautiful.

You wondered if you could actually make his jaw drop.

"Nothing could make me miss it," Shichiro assured, his voice deep and smooth it made tingles race down your spine. "I'll be there, promise."

--+--

Sullivan and Opera had left early to finalize the preparations, leaving you to escort Iruma to the surprise party. Thankfully, Opera had hitched the Nightmares to one of the smaller carriages before leaving so you didn't ruin your dress. Especially knowing Deinos, who loved to be as impish as she could be.

The Nightmares knickered softly as you and Iruma exited the mansion, both dressed in your costumes. "To Lord Sullivan," You instructed the demonic-horses simply as you opened the carriage door. They snorted in understanding, making you smile as you patted Lampon's flank before boarding.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Iruma asked as the carriage began to move.

"It's a secret~" You answered in a singsong voice, smiling at his pout. "You'll love it though, I promise."

His pout didn't change, though he watched as you smoothed down your skirt, still unused to such rich material. "Well, you look beautiful, mom."

You blushed, "And you look very handsome, Iruma. Who would have thought we both could clean up so well, hmm?"

He laughed at that, and soon both of you were sharing memories of when you were less than presentable. Such as being covered in fish guts after being tripped - or when he came back from a forging trip, completely covered in mud and leaves. It had taken weeks to get every bit of mud and grime from the tiny shower afterwards, but you refused to spray him with the hose used to clean the floor of the workshop as many had recommended. Mainly because the water was ice cold and it was late autumn and winter had been attempting to set in.

The ride wasn't very long, and soon the carriage slowed to a stop. Opera opened the door before you could even think about it, holding a hand out to Iruma and then you once the boy was on the ground.

But before you could take a look around, a blindfold settled over your eyes. You jerked in surprise, fear and panic setting in as a pair of large hands settled on your shoulders. "Calm down, my dear," Sullivan reassured softly, thumbs rubbing calming circles into the bone of your shoulder. "We don't want to ruin the surprise."

"This is Iruma's Demonic Rite!" You protested as your adopted father led you (presumably) to where the Rite was to take place.

"Do you think I would celebrate my grandson's life, and not my daughter's?" Sullivan chuckled as a groan of old, heavy doors opening filled the air. A sound you were familiar with, given the Library's own doors perchance to complain every time they were opened.

But surely you weren't there. You heard hushed yet excited whispers, making your heart pound as Sullivan continued to guide you. He gently coaxed you up a couple of steps before turning you around and encouraging you to sit.

A moment later you heard Opera guide Iruma into a seat next to yours. There was a hushed countdown before the blindfold fell from your eyes, revealing the elaborately decorated ballroom with a large bonfire burning brightly in a pit at the center. The Misfits along with a few other Babyls students cheered your name along with Iruma's, making your heart catch in your throat.

"Mom?" Iruma asked softly as Sullivan and Opera joined in with the others as they began to dance-- an ancient dance, full of guttural words that truly made it seem like a demonic ritual.

"A Demonic Ritual is how they celebrate birthdays," You explained in a hush whisper, entranced by the performance. "We -- grandpa, Opera, and I -- planned on it being a secret, and to also make up for missing your actual birthday this year. I didn't think they'd plan on putting me in the spotlight too…"

Iruma's hand found yours, a smile on his face and that cheery light in his large blue eyes. "We've always celebrated our birthdays together. I was actually just telling Professor Balam that the other day…"

Oh. Oh. You caught sight of the tall broad demon standing apart, watching the revelers dance while also apparently taking a head count.

Those sneaky demons. Your heart grew warm at the realization that while you thought you were in on the surprise for Iruma, the three demons had been building a surprise for you as well.

As if he was aware of your gaze, Shichiro looked towards you, his expression shifting into a smile as he offered a small wave.

"It seems we are missing a guest," Opera said as he suddenly appeared on Iruma's other side. You tore your gaze away from Shichiro for a moment, and in a flash of light and smoke, a familiar white puffball appeared, looking disgruntled as always.

"EGGY SENSEI!" The Misfits cheered excitedly, and Kalego's reluctant presence seemed to be the last thing needed for the celebration to kick into full swing.

Over the last several months, you had slowly gotten used to the positive attention from the students as well as the teachers of Babyls. But that did little to prepare you for sitting in the spotlight as the guests symbolically gave part of their life to you as they poured out the burning water into the central bonfire. Or as each knelt one by one, offering their gifts with the heartfelt words: "Thank you for being born and living amongst us."

"I appreciate the love and kindness you give us, Mrs. Suzuki."

"I'm so happy I get to have two moms! My siblings are so jealous!"

"I know you're not my mother, but it really feels like you are sometimes."

"Your beauty is outstanding, my lady! May you continue to age so gracefully!"

"Thank you for caring so much."

"Thank you for bringing Iruma to us!"

"I appreciate your dedication to Babyls and its students," Kalego grumbled begrudgingly, offering a small delicate flower as a gift. (Where he got one considering his Summoned state, you weren't sure.) "You are one among few others whom I can tolerate."

"That's high praise coming from the professor," Iruma whispered as if you weren't already aware. Yet any reply died on your lips as Shichiro approached, quickly bowing low as his green feathered wings spread out wide to their full extent.

Yes, the others did the same as a sign of respect - but something seemed different….

Or maybe you were just head over heels for Shichiro that seeing him like that, knowing just how strong and powerful he was yet showing his weakest spot to you…

Your thoughts were interrupted as he looked up, his gaze focused on both you and Iruma as he spoke your names. "Thank you both for living in our world, and for being amongst us."

The sentiment had been expressed before, but by those oblivious to the reality of you and Iruma's true circumstances. But he knew. He knew it all. Your throat grew tight as he presented his gifts, hands briefly grazing yours as you accepted the box as your gazes locked.

The warmth, the sincerity, the love in his eyes meant the world to you. He meant the world to you.

You struggled with the urge to simply slide from your chair to your knees and pull him close for a kiss to reciprocate those tender emotions. Except you were still aware of everyone else watching, so you just caressed his hand deliberately with a smile hopefully conveying your feelings.

His eyes crinkled as he returned your smile, fingers lacing briefly before he pulled away and stood. Your eyes followed him as he stepped away.

Until Sullivan stepped up, his own eyes glittering knowingly. He didn't say a word, but knelt down as he took Iruma's hand as well as yours into his. His black wings opened, but instead of splaying them in a submissive gesture, he curled around the three of you.

"You both mean so much to me, you are truly my treasures," He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tightly. "I am sincerely thankful you both came into my life."

"Grandpa…"

"Dad…"

This time, you did leave your seat, having the same idea as Iruma as you wrapped your arms around both your father and son, and feeling their arms around you.

You were loved. Just as strongly as you loved them, they loved you.

--+--

The rest of the party was truly a party. You swore you had been to more festivals and parties in the last few months than before in your prior life.

But instead of standing on the outskirts of the party with Kalego and Balam as you typically ended up doing, you were drawn into the menagerie this time. You danced with several students as well as Opera, Sullivan, and then oddly Fluffego, when he was all but shoved in your arms by an impish Opera. He acted begrudgingly as you twirled him around, his small hands holding onto your fingers. You had your toes stepped on as well as stepped on a few yourself, but it was all brushed off with a laugh and even more dancing.

You hadn't had unbridled fun like this for such a long time. Your face hurt from smiling so widely, ribs aching from laughing.

But your favorite part was when large warm hands wrapped around your waist when you had slipped towards the table laden with food and drinks. "You look beautiful," Shichiro whispered as he held you tight around your midsection, making you smile. You had briefly danced with him, no more than thirty seconds, during one where you were constantly changing partners. Otherwise it seemed like the universe had conspired to keep you separated.

"I'm sure I would've been more lovely if my personal hairdresser had helped," You teased lightly as you glanced over the treats, taking your time to enjoy being held against him. "But I have a nagging suspicion he was in on the surprise."

"Iruma explained how you had always celebrated your birthday with him, and never told him when your actual birthday was," He admitted, chin resting atop your head despite the decorative horns. "We -- Lord Sullivan, Senpai, and myself-- figured it would be best to continue the tradition. Especially considering you would likely refuse to tell us once you knew what it may entail."

You bit your lip out of reflex to hide your smile. "You three really do know me well, don't you?" Because he was right; once learning of Demonic Rites, and knowing Sullivan's own tendencies to spoil you, you would've kept your lips sealed.

Which was related in a way to why you never told Iruma which day you were born. You hadn't wanted the boy to give up more of his hard earned money on your behalf. Sharing his birthday had been a bit of a compromise in a way, so you both were able to celebrate each other while you could make sure he didn't use a lot of his meager funds on you.

"Both you and Iruma are completely selfless," he answered, squeezing you tighter. "To the point I really wish you two would have a bit more of a sense of self-preservation."

"So when exactly is your birthday?" You asked after a moment, making him chuckle at your poor attempt at changing the topic.

He squeezed you tighter, adjusting to nuzzle your neck gently; considering his mask was still in place. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

You laughed at that, leaning your head back and finally looking up at him. "I love you, Shichiro, but I know better than that."

A flash of surprise crossed his face and his grip tightened to the point of nearly taking your breath away. "...do you, really?"

You realized your slip. You had admitted to yourself - to others - your feelings, but never to him. And, well - for good reason from what you understood about demon culture.

But… screw it.

"Yes," You answered, twining your hands with his. "I really do love you."

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the look in his eye changing slightly. He guided you to turn in his arms so you were face to face, still holding you tight against him. "Demons, especially those who are courting," He continued, his voice threatening to become even huskier, "don't say those words freely, or lightly."

You had gleaned as much from the books you had read. Some said it freely to those they were crushing on, and during little flings. But once a demon entered courtship, the word became much more meaningful to their Intended. Not unlike the term 'Aishitemasu' in Japanese.

And yes, you two had just started courting - and from what you read, the courting period could last several months to years - but there was no denying how you felt. He had come to mean so much to you, and you could easily imagine him being in every part of your life. Not just the romantic moments, but the mundane parts of life; like doing dishes, or chores (if Opera ever allowed that to happen again).

That was one of your ambitions. To have him by your side for the rest of your life if possible. To build a life with him.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down so you could face him eye to eye as you stood on your tiptoes. "I love you, Balam Shichiro. With all my heart. And I can't imagine being with anyone else but you."

Before you could blink, his hands cupped your backside and he lifted you up, your body pressed against his as you fought the urge to wrap your legs around his hips, knowing in your current dress that would be very inappropriate.

Shichiro's eyes were desperate in more than one way as he searched yours, undoubtedly using his bloodline ability to find a hint of a lie. "One more time?"

You couldn't help but smile before you cupped his face in your hands, meeting his dark eyes and holding his intense gaze. "I love you, Shichiro. And I'll say it as many times as you want me to."

If you weren't in a room full of students - as well as your father and Opera, (and you supposed Kalego as well) - you would have happily removed his mask to kiss him properly, but you knew he was self conscious of his scar and refrained. That, and you had a very good idea his self control was on the verge of slipping; as was yours, to be honest. One kiss would lead to more as it always seemed to tend to, and you knew you wouldn't want to stop.

"I love you too," He finally admitted as your words sunk in. "So, so much." There was a hint of desperation to his voice, which paired with the way his grip on you was more than just supporting you against his frame, but feeling the plush curve of your butt.

There was no denying the thoughts running through your head, or the yearning that filled your body. You bit your lip as your fingers as well as your gaze traveled down his neck, feeling the strong cords of muscle beneath. He wasn't wearing the collar of feathers, but instead a dark, high collared top that felt like velvet beneath your fingers.

It would be so easy to push it away and press your lips to the sensitive skin there and listen to him hold back a whimper and groan as you tortured him. The thought of reducing him to a whimpering mess always tempted you, making you bite your lip as your mind drifted into the gutter.

Shichiro said your name quietly, making it sound like a plea as you continued to rub the velvet cloth trying to feel his muscular shoulders beneath as you thought.

You met his gaze, which felt as hot and heavy as the feeling settling in your lower gut. You knew what you wanted to do - what you thought he wanted to do too - but were uncertain how to proceed. Or rather, hesitant to take that next step. Was it being too bold?

Screw it. Fortune favored the bold, right? Be ambitious. Be selfish.

"Why…don't we slip away somewhere more private?" You asked hesitantly, your attempt to be quiet making you sound a bit more sultry than intended.

His grip tightened even more, and you felt a hint of something hard press against your stomach. Yet instead of eagerly agreeing or even just carrying you away, (as you may have thought about more than once in previous daydreams) he protested - but with obvious reluctance. "It's your Rite, and…"

"Is there an unwritten rule that I have to stay here when I'd rather be alone with you?" You asked. Because devi, your mind was fully in the gutter and the thought of trying to pretend you were totally not thinking such things while you tried to mingle with everyone else sounded like torture.

And not the pleasant kind you hoped waited for you in the near future.

"Well, no," He admitted after a moment, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But would you really rather sneak away with me than stay and celebrate?"

Devi, how could a demon be so pure? "One hundred percent yes," You replied firmly before boldly adding on: "To the point I don't care where we go, as long as it's somewhere private and we won't be disturbed." Because hell or heaven help you if you couldn't at least get him half-undressed so you could explore his body with both your hands and lips. It was taking every bit of your self control as it was, with those thoughts running in your mind while being braced against him, the growing firmness pressing against you left little doubt he was having similar thoughts.

There was a moment of silence as his gaze became distant and unfocused, his cheeks turning bright red."Shichiro…?" You called softly after the moment stretched on. He snapped out of his thoughts, though his cheeks stained red even more.

"I, uh, well, I-I have been wondering if you would like to, um, come to my home? I've been working on my nest…."

Oh. Oh. That was much more than finding a closet or unoccupied room. It was your turn to blush, your heart racing in anticipation as well as more than a little bit of anxiety.

You wanted to - you really wanted to - but you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. It had been such a long time - what felt like a lifetime to be honest - long before Iruma came into your life, since you had been with someone. And while kissing and petting had been second nature when it came to Shichiro….

Well, your daydreams hadn't quite prepared you for the real possibility.

Yet, again, you wanted to. And he was bound to be a more thoughtful lover than you had experienced before, demon or not. (Hell, he already was.)

After what felt like forever, you finally took the metaphorical step and nodded while biting your lip. "I-I would like that."

--+-- Su-Ki-Ma--+--

"They seriously don't think they're being subtle, right?" Soi sighed as he watched the two adults head towards the exit. Well, Balam walking somewhat stiffly with you cradled in his arms, your face red as a tomato but laughing.

Granted, his ability made disappearing easy, and also made it more noticeable when others tried to sneak off… but, still. That was about as obvious as anyone could be without making a loud announcement.

"Soi!" Leid jumped, startled by the demon's sudden presence. "You have got to stop doing that!"

"Are you talking about our two love bird teachers?" Elizabetta asked with a giggle, not as easily startled as their classmate. She also had noticed the pair, but was delighted by the turn of events. After all, their romance was something straight out of her own daydreams, making her hope even more that she would have a fairytale romance as well. "Aren't they adorable?"

"That's one word for it," Soi acknowledged, not as enamored with the situation as she was. "I might want to adjust my bet…"

"You and everyone else," Jazz agreed, summoned by the word 'bet'. He was already pulling out the notebook he was using to keep track of the massive pool going. "Lets see, are you wanting to change when you think their wedding day will be, or when Professor Balam will have mom knocked up?"

"Are you still taking bets?" Opera asked after overhearing the four students discuss their options. All four froze, glancing at the security demon and expecting a reaction much like Kalego's when he had found the betting during one of his lectures. (Granted, shortly after he had placed his own as well. He just didn't appreciate it being discussed during class.)

Instead, there was no anger behind Opera's placid expression, just simple curiosity.

"Er, yeah…." Jazz answered as Soi disappeared and both Elizabetta and Leid stepped away from the feline demon.

"Good. Both Lord Sullivan and myself would like to participate…"

#mairimashita! iruma kun #welcome to demon school iruma kun #balam shichiro #balam/reader #suzuki iruma #balam shichiro/reader #balam shichirou

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justmeinatree · 8 months

Text

01 - the greatest show : the preacher in the pulpit

Summary : a group of misfits, a mysterious leader, a string of murders, and life on the road.

TW : transgender misconceptions & hardships in victorian era europe

Word Count : 5.6k

Series Masterlist

“in the name of the father, the son, and the holy ghost. amen.” priest davies recites, his right hand in the air, making a sign of the cross above the heads of the entire congregation. making this the two million, eighty three thousand, nine hundred and sixty seventh time she hears those words. or so it felt like.

it’s not that she didn’t like the idea of god, it’s that she didn’t like learning that the church seemed to be ran in a way that opposed to a lot of the practices they’ve been taught. but she could never admit to that. it’s much too radical thinking. the year is only 1849, mind you.

the problem she’s facing stems from a lifetime of church practices and church school and a super tiny church town. a lifetime of learning to submit, although really it didn’t feel as extreme as it sounds. she didn’t hate it, didn’t know anything else really.

she sees the life her parents lead, the life everyone in this town leads, and she likes it. loves it, honestly. wants it. but she holds such a big, life altering secret. one that unfortunately wont let her lead that life. surely not in this part of the world, anyway.

looking around the small church, she notices mister wright, misses wright hanging onto his arm, their three kids trailing behind them. then the griffiths walking down the aisle, misses griffith obviously about ready to give birth, if her swollen stomach and awkward little waddle are anything to go by. and then who could forget mister morris, approaching his 50s, sitting in the back corner, a spot he’s now claimed as his own, since misses morris passed away a few months ago. it made her sad to think about, they’d been together 35years when the ol’gal passed on.

she loved watching people, families, go about. it gave her an opportunity to disconnect from real life thoughts, and place herself into a beautifully conjured up imaginary story. one where she actually has the chance at love and happiness.

“timothy” her mum snips, pulling her from her thoughts, pulling her from her full happy fulfilling fantasy, shaking her head and looking over at her mum, as she goes on, “hurry up, we need to get to your uncle’s in time for lunch. your cousin oliver has some news to tell the family.”

and she’s not sure whether it’s hearing her name, the useless event that’s about to happen, or the fact that her mum makes such a big deal about everything, but her stomach has turned and fell and shattered.

as she rolls her eyes, sliding out of the pew, following her parents and little sister down the aisle, she murmurs, “we know oliver’s going to announce that he’s finally engaged to betsy.”

“oh stop it, you,” her mum snaps again, turning to look at her with sheer annoyance in her eyes. “why do you insist on being such a party pooper ? can’t you ever just happily go to an event ?”

“i don’t even understand why i need to go, and why this is even an event,” she sighs. “besides, it’s not like i’m ruining the party, we already know that’s what it’s going to be, right ? it’s useless,” she trails on, getting cut off now that they’ve reached the back of the church, father davies shaking hands with her parents.

the priest now turns his attention to her, a warm smile on his face, taking her hand in his, “was nice to see you timothy, i look forward to seeing you next weekend.”

and as she’s always been taught, she keeps a tight lipped smile, nodding her head in affirmation, before father davies shifts his attention to her sister, emma, following the same routine. a firm handshake, warm smile, a bid to a good week, and a promise to reunite next weekend. same time, same place. same, same, same. always the same.

which, as mentioned, wasn’t terrible. she loved the idea of meeting a nice man, settling down, finding love. obviously the idea of kids was wiped off the table the moment god decided she’d be born in a body with a penis.

but it was okay, she wasn’t angry with him. god, that is. figured that he did this for a reason.

she was angry, however, or maybe frightened was the right word, with the people of the congregation. she’d heard stories of what happened to people like her. and although, she’d hoped her parents loved her too much to even think of something so awful, she knew, downright, that it wasn’t the case.

and that’s what she’ll never understand. if god is perfect, and his creations are perfect, why was she such a terrible creature ? why was it impossible to fathom that maybe a girl was born with a penis ? and why was she doomed to a future of white walls, straight jacket, botched early versions of lobotomy, rape, abuse, starvation, prison, complete segregation, and quite possible death ? why was love a concept she could only ever dream of ?

all thoughts that plague her mind on a daily basis, especially while she’s hiding in her room, stood in the dimmest light she can function in, dress draped over her small frame. she only had the one, tucked away in the depths of her drawers, something she pilfered from the seamstress’ shop years ago now.

she felt bad in the moment, assuming that whoever’s order it was would be proper upset, hopefully not taking it out too roughly on the poor seamstress. misses white could hold her own though, as delicate as she was with her craft, she could tear you apart if you so much as looked at her wrong.

and how she longed for such a badass attitude. generally she got a huge burst of confidence on the off times she had the opportunity to put the beautiful pale yellow dress on. but it was quickly wiped away whenever she’d hear so much as a tiny creak, immediately brought back to reality, shrugging the garment off, and hiding it all over again.

but in this moment, she was following her parents, walking side by side with her sister, down the road to their uncle’s house. and when she looks down, seeing her polished black shoes laced up intricately, her black, firmly pressed slacks, crisp white shirt buttoned up to the top, and tucked in tightly, a little bit of her light seems to fade.

she almost forgets, when she’s going about her life. her true colours, her true spark, that’s become an intricate part of who she is, typically shines brightly. you’ll rarely find someone that doesn’t love her presence. men, women, young, old, she gets on with everyone. a feat that’s not always easy, especially in their little village.

and she supposes that’s the irony in this situation. if all these people knew her secret, they’d shun her completely without so much as a second thought. but nothing about her would be different. other than the name, and the cut/fit of the cotton hanging off her body.

but then, when she hears the word timothy, or she catches a glimpse of her clothing, and she’s begrudgingly reminded that she is in fact, a penis having human, and that means that she has to be a boy. and those are the moments you can almost literally see the spark leave her soul entirely.

she wonders if one day she’ll lose that shimmery glimmer of hope and love and light and joy. if the more she’s reminded that she must be timothy, the more difficult it will be for that spark to find her again. almost as if the spark is looking for her, and gets mistaken whenever it sees timothy, continuing on its journey to find her, flashing right past her stupid boy name and her stupid boy clothes.

“timmy ?” she hears softly, coming from right next to her.

“yeah, em ?” she hums, giving her head a shake, forcibly throwing those awful thoughts around her head, hoping to smash them up so badly with the force of it all, that they’re at bay for at least the rest of the day.

“you look sad. are you alright ?” emma asks quietly, still slightly too young to understand much of anything, but old enough to know that it’s crucial to keep her voice down, as to not garner the attention of their parents.

“m’alright honey bee,” she plasters on the biggest smile she can muster. which truthfully isn’t all that hard, in the presence of her little sister. if there was anyone she’d ever feel comfortable confiding in, it was emma. unfortunately, at the ripe age of 7 3/4, god forbid you forget the 3/4, emma’s still a bit too unpredictable in the secret keeping department.

“have i ever told you that i love when you call me honey bee,” emma smiles wide, eyes peering up.

“don’t think you have actually,” she hums in thought. “do you remember the day i gave you that nickname ?”

“sort of,” emma hums, the memory now very faded, as she was barely 3 years old when it happened. “you and i had gone for a walk. remember you slamming the front door and storming off. remember being scared when i heard the loud bang.”

“sorry about that,” she murmurs, nodding, as she remembers that morning like it was yesterday. remembers the loud screaming match she had with her mum, remembers storming off in a fit of furry, pacing the front of the house for a moment after having slammed the door. remembers adorable little emma, shyly peering through a crack in the door, asking quietly if timmy was alright. remembers the instant calming effect her little sister seemed to bring.

“remember going for a walk with you,” emma hums. “i could tell you were mad, i could feel it off you. but you were trying to hide it from me.”

“never told me that,” she murmurs, in thought. “you know, you saved me that day. you calmed me down so much, i just couldn’t stay mad with you around. you were so cute, running around, so innocent and happy, trying to make me laugh.”

“remember all of that,” emma smiles at the memory, always having been really close to timmy. the sibling bond, sibling love, was very strong between the two. “but i dont remember how we fell on honey bee.”

she smiles, laughing quietly, the memory crystal clear in her mind, “you had ran ahead, stopped by a large tree, remember you twirling around under it. anyways, i had caught up to you, when a bee flew out from the tree and kept bothering me. i was swatting away at it, when you yelled at me to stop. told me that clearly the honey bee had mistaken me for a pretty flower.”

“i said that ?” emma giggles, covering her mouth with her hand.

“you’ve always surprised me with the things you say,” she laughs. “i think you surprise everyone with your well advanced view on the world. anyways, i dont think i’d ever felt more special, more beautiful, than i did in that moment, on that day. been calling you honey bee ever since.”

she can see the smile light up emma’s face, a memory emma’s obviously happy to now tuck away into her brain, the story finally complete in her mind, just as they walk up the pathway to their uncle’s house.

they all spot aunty jane, standing out front, hand extended in the air, waving at everyone. here we go, she thinks to herself.

finally, finally, back home, she mutters to herself as she shuts herself into her bedroom. sitting on the edge of her bed, elbows rested on her knees, head dipped down into her hands, taking lung fulls of shaky breaths.

“can’t do this, can’t do this, can’t do this anymore,” she mumbles quietly to herself, silent tears dripping down from her water filled eyes.

her brain feels like it’s imploding, her heart feels like it’s much too heavy for her chest, her stomach is turning, and she’s so god damn sick of it all. if she hears the name timothy one more time, she’s sure she’ll be gouging her eyeballs out, shoving knives in her eardrums, and swallowing arsenic for good measure.

she hadn’t noticed that her body was wracking through tremors, as she was trying, fuck swears she’s trying, to take proper breaths. but all of a sudden, her chest is too heavy, her lungs feel swollen, her throat is too tight, and the air just can’t get to where she needs it.

she blinks through some tears, the feeling of a panic attack nothing foreign to her. actually, it’s become a fairly usual occurrence following family gatherings. she can usually do her best to ignore the obvious fact that she’s imprisoned in a “boy” body on normal days. but put her in the presence of others and she struggles more and more each time.

and the unfortunate reality, the only way to make it all better, is to pull out that beautiful yellow dress and slip it on, cover her awful body with a garment that mirrors what she’s been picturing in her mind for almost a decade and a half.

today, however, it’s still early, everyone’s still awake going about their business, a much too dangerous situation, she thinks to herself. which honestly, only makes the panic worsen.

but, she can’t calm down, she can’t think straight, she can’t fucking breathe, and rational has flown straight out the window. she needs her dress, needs it. fuck it all, she needs a good strong inhale before her brain goes into the fuzzy abyss of no return.

in a flurry of pure panic meeting the influx of adrenaline, she quickly stands straight, her head spinning uncontrollably from the lack of oxygen. her hands fall on her dresser, holding herself up, all of her strength and power coming from the rush of knowing that the dress will make it all better. her light at the end of a dark, panic ridden tunnel.

rummaging haphazardly through her drawer, clothes being thrown about in her room, because she needs, needs, needs that fucking dress. needs it now. nothing else matters, every ounce of her being is redirected and focused on dress, dress, dress.

her brain barely registers the yellow fabric through her gaze, only clicking once her hand wraps itself in soft cotton, a strike contrast to the rougher material of her usual, very well used, pants and button ups.

and almost as if she’d been given pure cocaine, injected straight into her brain, for the strongest, most instant high, her body starts to calm. the mere presence of her dress enough to bring her back, feet solidly planted on the ground, breaths coming easier.

but it’s not enough, she needs to feel it, needs to see it, needs, needs, needs anything that isn’t such a grandiose expression of boy. so with the dress now laid out gently on her bed, she grips into her shirt, ripping the buttons right at the seams, as she tears it off her body, the garment joining all of her other clothes strewn across the room, with her slacks quick to follow.

and once she shimmies her way into her dress, her lungs finally, fucking finally, pull in the large breath of oxygen they’d been searching for. her brain starts to relax, the fuzzy blindness of panic and terror and pain starting to lift, as she looks down at herself, her body now mirroring what she’s always pictured, what she’s always wanted.

taking some calming breaths, letting the much needed air reach her brain, her body relaxes. she can feel her fingertips again. can feel her toes as she wiggles them. can feel the goosebumps on her skin as a chilly breeze flows through her open window, her arms hugging around herself in pure search of comfort.

she can feel the silent tears wetting her cheeks, as she keeps crying quietly, the feeling of elation so overwhelming. going from pure, intense, rage ridden panic, to pure, intense, serene calm, throwing her brain, her body, for a complete loop of emotion. she felt almost lightheaded at the whirlwind of a switch that was just flicked in her mind.

and she isn’t too sure when it happened, or how it happened, the last 15 minutes having been too much, too much, too fucking much, but she finds herself laying in bed, eyes closing as her body screams at her to regulate, to shut off, to rest.

so without a second thought, without her usual level headed moment of judgment, without her ability to assess that no, she should not be taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon, wearing a dress, when anyone could walk in, she ends up asleep. the panic attack having been the worst she’s ever experienced, every ounce of her being shutting down now that the adrenaline had crashed and her body felt peace in the envelopment of a beautiful yellow cotton dress.

at first she isn’t too sure what it was that woke her up. maybe she’d been asleep longer than she ever anticipated when she closed her eyes. maybe it was the newfound nip to the chill in the air that came with the darkness of early evening. maybe it was the lingering smell of whatever her mum was cooking up for dinner.

but the moment she hears the loud gasp, followed by a booming shout of her father’s gruelling voice, she seems to remember the faint cry of her name. her god forsaken, stomach turning name. the faint cry coming from her sister’s sweet little melodic tone, obviously coming from far away in the kitchen, announcing that supper was about to be served. and naturally, when she couldn’t answer, thanks to her sleep ridden body, her father came trudging up the stairs looking for her.

“what in god’s sacred name is on your body, young man ?” she hears bellowing through her room, through the entire house really, and what a crude, awful way to wake up this is. she barely has the time to blink her eyes open, let alone give her brain a moment to steady itself and register its surroundings, before the booming stomps of her father’s feet can be heard echoing through the room, and probably shaking the floorboards enough for some dust to trickle down below them onto the lower floor of the house.

she feels her father’s hand wrap itself in the garment, at chest level, giving a harsh enough tug to pull the upper half of her body clean off the bed below her. “i asked you a question, timothy,” he shouts right in her face, “where the fuck did you get this and why is it on you ?”

fear. pure, stricken, fear. she feels her heart stop, she feels the her stomach fall to a pit so low she didn’t know it could even go that far. she feels a prickling warmth spread through her entire body. her lungs seem to stop working, as she stares into her father’s disgust filled eyes, waiting for an explanation, none of which would be anywhere near good enough for him.

“i- i-“ she stutters around the shakiness of her breath, chest twitching, trying to gasp through any bit of air, soft voice working its way through, “it’s not what it looks like.”

in a fit of pure rage, her father pushes at her chest with force, such pure disgust evident in his eyes, as he lets go of the garment, letting her fall back against the bed.

by now, with the booming commotion, her mum and sister were standing in the doorway, curious eyes peering past the man of the house, to see what it is that’s got him so riled up.

she can see the shock in her mum’s eyes, hand covering what she can only assume to be her wide open mouth, jaw slackened with surprise. she can see the worry and confusion in her little sister’s regard, not totally grasping the scene in front of her, but old enough to understand that whatever was unfolding was nothing good. she can’t even look at her dad, the disgust she saw earlier, too much for her to look at again. it was already burned on her brain anyway.

she’d never been made to feel so ashamed in her life. she’d never felt so alone, so disgusting, so dirty, so small, so fucking revolting. she was trembling harder than she ever has, her gaze stuck on her hands resting softly in her lap. her ears were ringing so loud she could barely hear the conversation now happening between her parents.

fear. so much fear. what would happen now, who were they going to tell, where would she go, what would they make her do, how was this going to end ?

her ears catch bits of sentences, “did you know ?”, “is that dress yours ?”, “send him to the asylum,” “give him a chance, maybe father davies- ,” “he’s a fucking worthless whore cross dresser !”, “we can’t just- ,” “get this sorry excuse for a son out of my face,” “daddy, dont- ,” “i never want to see that disgusting face again.”

it all went by in a blur, and the next thing she knows, her door is slammed shut, all wandering eyes closed off by the dark wood separating her from the world.

still trembling, still shaken by the events, still gasping for breath, and for the first time, she can’t get the dress off fast enough. she tugs and rips and shimmies at a blinding pace, angry at the garment, angry at herself, for causing such a mess.

having lost any ounce of appetite, she spends the evening in her room, tucked in the smallest ball her body can wrap itself in, hiding away in a corner of her room, sheltering herself from the entirety of the world, while simultaneously attempting to comfort herself in any way she can.

she’s disgusting, she’s dirty, she’s a fucking abomination. what was she thinking ? what was she doing ? how could she humiliate herself like that ? she really felt like the lowest form of human there was. she’d never felt such deep shame in her life.

she wasn’t sure how long she’d been squeezing herself into such a tight ball, angry thoughts swirling through her mind, until a soft, barely there knock can be heard from the other side of her door. at first, she wasn’t sure it had really happened, until she hears it again, more urgently this time.

her limbs hurt, joints creaking, as she untangles herself for the first time in god knows how many hours, padding quietly to the door, opening it just a crack, peering out into the hallway to find emma looking up with her big, innocent gaze.

opening the door more than just a crack, she beckons her sister into the bedroom, closing the door with a soft thud.

“are you okay ?” emma asks quietly, going to sit on the edge of the bed.

“you shouldn’t have seen that,” she hums quietly. “surprised mum and dad even let you come talk to me.”

“they’re asleep, it’s late now,” emma murmurs, shrugging. “they’re making you go to confess your sins to father davies tomorrow,” she explains, “overheard them talking after dinner.”

“of course they are,” she rolls her eyes, a silent tear running down her cheek. “this isn’t good emma. i’m in a lot of trouble.”

“just do what they say,” emma whispers, her own eyes filling with unshed tears. “they’re mad, but- but it’ll get better right ? can make this better ? i can’t lose my brother,” emma whimpers, afraid of the future, concerned for her favouritest family member.

“i’ll try,” she murmurs wetly, tears running freely down her cheeks, as she wraps her arms around her sister. she has to do what’s right. can’t leave her sister. can’t be a girl. she cannot be a fucking girl. she needs to be the big brother emma’s always loved and needed and came to for everything. she just needs to be.

or so she tells herself all night long, when the thoughts are too loud for her to get a wink of sleep, watching emma curled up next to her in comfort, holding onto her brother’s shirt for dear life, the only way she could reach a proper state of rest after the events of the day.

without having slept a wink all night long, her brain muttering through different thoughts, different scenarios, different possibilities, different outcomes, and enjoying the slight moments of peace when her gaze catches her innocent, sleeping sister, she starts to notice streams of light working their way through the small window. the sun slowly rising on a brand new day, full of hopes and dreams. or so she wishes. at this point, she isn’t too sure that hopes and dreams are still a part of life that she’s privy to.

she gently pats emma awake, watching her stretch out her limbs to waken them for the new day ahead. they both pad downstairs, noticing that it’s fairly quiet in the house. too quiet really. usually by this time their mum is muttering about the kitchen, getting their breakfasts ready. their father is typically shining his shoes, making sure his hat and tie are on straight, awaiting his breakfast before shuffling out the door and off to work.

but today, they couldn’t make out a single sound, the eerieness to it all not going unnoticed, creating a heavy swirling in the bottom of her stomach. did they abandon their children ? was she their reason for leaving ? was all of this entirely her fault ? now she was left to raise emma as her own, the two of them against this cruel world ? no, no, she figures it can’t quite be that bad. she needs to stop psyching herself out. they surely wouldn’t have left without emma.

now in the kitchen, emma notices the small piece of paper on the table, reading aloud, “father davies is waiting for you, timothy. after the confession of your sins, we expect to see our son back.”

she notices emma blinking up at her, all of the questions bouncing around her head seen clearly through the confusion in her gaze, “how would you not be their son ?”

“because i was wearing that dress,” she murmurs quietly, a short sentence full of shame, hatred, humiliation.

“but a dress doesn’t make you a girl,” emma pipes up, completely oblivious to the situation at hand. and how could anything but confusion and oblivion be etched on emma’s face when the concept of transgender has not even come close to being introduced to her. why should it ? people like this don’t exist. not out in public anyway.

“no, but my brain does,” she sighs quietly, shaking her head and snapping back into reality. “look, honey bee, i clearly have to go to the church. dont want to upset mum and dad any more than they already are. you wait at home, yeah ?”

“but -“

“no emma,” she shakes her head, “can’t come with me this time. need to do this one myself. mum and dad, or me, will be back soon, yeah ? here, have some bread and jam,” she hums, taking a plate and bringing it to the table. “next thing you know, someone’ll be home. you can work on your crochet in the meantime.”

“are you going to be okay timmy ?” emma asks quietly, almost shyly, ever worried for her brother.

she smiles sadly, not wanting to ever cause harm or worry to her little sister, giving her a kiss on the head, “i’ll be fine. eat, do something fun, and i’ll be home in no time.”

and with that, she sets off, the door closing gently behind her, as she walks down the familiar path leading to the town centre, and more specifically, the tallest building right in the middle of it all, the church.

she walks in quietly, the pit in her stomach having only grown larger and deeper and pittier. is that even a thing ? she’s not sure, but what she is sure of is that upon noticing father davies, her chest tightens, her lungs struggle to breathe, her head is absolutely swimming with worry, and is it possible to poop out your stomach ? because she thinks she just has.

“ah, timothy !” father davies smiles, turning around when he hears the shuffle of the large wooden door creaking closed. “good morning, son.”

and she swears, swears, that up until this point, father davies has never called her, son. surely out of spite, after having whatever conversation was had with her parents, and the entire ordeal makes her want to coward back and run out of the building altogether. but by sheer will, and maybe a little speckle of hope, she walks her way down the aisle, stopping at the last pew, sitting herself next to the priest.

“your parents tell me that you have some sins to confess,” he hums, looking her over, a gentle smile on his face, no foreseeable judgment in his gaze. yet.

as she sighs, her shoulders slumping a bit, she figures this is it. maybe telling her secret to father davies, to god, whom is surely listening right ?, maybe she’ll find a sparkle of hope. either way, confession has always been confidential. or so she’s always been affirmed. this is a conversation to be had with god. father davies is just like the interpreter. the messenger if you will.

“i was wearing a dress yesterday,” she mumbles quietly, still unsure of how much she can put her trust in the priest, but with having no one else to turn to, she has to put her faith in someone. and who better than a man of the church to turn to for faith.

“so i’ve been told,” he nods. “and what made you do that then ?”

“i like it,” she murmurs, shrugging her shoulders. “i dont see why it’s a big deal. i like wearing dresses. i- i-“ she sighs, the next part not something she ever anticipated telling to anyone. especially not this soon anyway. “i think i’m a girl.”

and at that, she notices the furrow in father davies’ eyebrows, notices the little hamster wheel turning very hard in his head, as he tries to make heads or tails of this situation.

truth is, he was not expecting that. maybe a confession of stealing, of being curious, because sure, who wasn’t at some point in their lives. but to be blatantly told that this boy thinks he’s a girl. well, it’s a little bit whacky, and a lot bit absurd.

as father davies sits, processing, not speaking a word, she sighs again, although this time with a slight edge as she’s maybe noticing that the faith and trust was misguided. “i dont understand why that’s so bad. if god made me this way, there’s a reason right ? father davies, if god isn’t capable of errors, why do i feel like such a mistake ?”

“you’re not a mistake, timothy. you’re maybe a little lost, maybe a little mistaken, maybe a little confused. but you are not a mistake, as you said yourself, god doesn’t make mistakes. maybe you just need some help in finding yourself, finding the man you were meant to be all along.”

the man. the man she was meant to be. her stomach plummets more, her heart beats more erratically, her fingers become more jittery, her head swims more and more. was she just mistaken ? no, no, she can’t be mistaken, she’s a girl. she knows. fucking knows that she’s a girl.

and as gut wrenching, as frightening, as confusing, as complex as this moment is, there is a click in her brain. a moment where the metaphorical fog has lifted. she is a girl, and she will do whatever it takes to have the freedom and happiness and love that she knows she deserves.

“i’m sorry father, but i must disagree. my parents have sent me to speak with you to confess to my sins. and other than stealing that dress, years ago, i dont feel as though i have any sins to confess to. i am a girl. and if no one can agree with that, well then, i guess we’re done here.”

with a solid kick of confidence brought on by her new inner realization, she stands from the pew, nodding her goodbye to father davies, and walking down the aisle towards the back of the church, seeing herself out of the building.

on the walk home, her mind swirls with the future unknown. she questions what will come out of her short conversation with father davies. will he keep her secret, or will he have, what she can only assume to be, a very disgruntled conversation with her parents ? will he tell others ? what will her parents do ? what will the others do ? what about poor little emma ?

the one thing she does know is that she’s absolutely done. so fucking done. if even the priest, messenger of god, cant hear her out, she has no reason to hold onto hope. especially not here. with her newfound courage, she finds herself skipping towards her house, a huge contrast in her demeanour since she first walked this path, just a mere hour ago. because really, whatever happens, she will be the girl she’s always known she is. she will. she has to. for her sanity, she fucking has to.

Part 2

……

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

A/N : dont worry your adorable little selves, we need a little background on our main character before we can meet our golden boy. harry’s on the way real real soon ! ✌️

tags : @daphnesutton @niallthebadboi @gorlsinmultifandoms @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles series #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writings #lgbtqia #harry styles x oc #harry styles x reader #trans #one direction #writings #justmeinatree

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sinfulserpents · 2 years

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Wish you well

Billy Hargrove x reader

warnings: s4 spoilers! violence, the upside down (usual stranger things shit), angst, mentions of billy :"(((

summary: struggling with Billy's death, you try to come to terms with the fact that the Upside Down still haunts you - this time, in worse ways.

a/n: i’m still not dealing with billy’s death well so this is what comes out of it. Also this doesn’t follow the cannon timeline of season 4 for creative purposes, pls don’t attack me.

You struggled the most in the Spring.

While everyone seemed to move on, your days stood at a still. You weren’t sure how it almost meant nothing to anyone else, you felt almost angry that everyone who pretended to be his friends didn’t even come to his funeral.

The weather was gloomy, the sky dark and threatening to rain as you stood around his open grave. You didn’t move from where you were standing, eyes locked on the figure of Neil Hargrove who was sobbing - you hated him. Billy hated him.

You listened as he spluttered some speech about how life wouldn’t be the same without his son and how a parent is never supposed to outlive their child knowing it was all a bunch of bullshit. He never loved Billy, you thought.

When it was your turn to speak you couldn’t move, your feet felt heavy - like they were being stuck to the ground in cement. Tears clouded your eyes and your throat felt like your heart was stuck in it.

“I-” you began, cutting yourself off with a dry swallow. “I love you Billy with my whole heart, and now my heart that felt full just feels like a burden. You once told me that you never felt love from anyone else but your mum - that I was the first to show it to you since she left. But the truth is I had never felt a love like yours, B.”

Gentle tears slid down your cheeks as you felt a soft hand grasp your own, your eyes meeting Max’s. Comfort and support from the younger girl warmed your chest and you took a deep breath.

“I’ll miss you every day for the rest of my life.”

---

You see him, for the first time, in Summer.

He wasn’t real, you knew that. A figure of your imagination as your brain struggled to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t laying beside you.

He wasn’t there, but your dream felt so real.

“Billy,” you croaked out, sighting his figure in the distance. “Billy!”

You watched as he turned to you, his figure seeming stiff before his arm outreached for you - pointing.

“You killed me.” His voice echoed, causing you to frown.

“What?”

Your voice was weak and you jumped when he appeared behind you, his lips pressed against your ear.

“You killed me, Y/N.”

You began to shake your head, spinning around to face him. He looked exactly the same as the night you lost him, his white shirt covered in black goo and crimson red blood - eyes blood shot as black veins creeped up and down his skin.

“I didn’t kill you, Billy.” You spluttered, taking a couple of slow steps back. “Don’t you remember?”

“You didn’t stop it! You watched as it killed me!”

“Billy, stop!”

You steps backward got more rushed as he began stalking towards you. His steps echoed loud in your ears, before his hands grabbed you by the neck.

“I bet you were glad,” he snarled, as your hands began to claw at his arms - lungs desperate to get a breath. “Glad that I was finally gone and you didn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

“No, B. I love you.” You wheezed.

The last thing you saw was his eyes turn black before you woke up from the nightmare with a gasp. Your hands desperately clawed at your neck in a panic, before reality set in and you realised what had happened.

He felt so real.

---

Things started to pick up again in Autumn.

You thought killing the Mind Flayer had ended the horrors of the Upside Down, but when Steve Harrington and his band of misfit children basically knocked your door down you could only heave a sigh before picking up your crowbar and following them to the car.

“So this creature has killed two people and everyone thinks this kid-”

You were cut off by Dustin. “Eddie.”

“Right, yeah. Eddie, killed the cheerleader so now a bunch of basketball playing assholes are hunting him down instead of letting the police do their job?”

Your questioning was met with unanimous agreements, your head turning towards Max who was crammed against the car door, her headphones glued to her ears as she stared out the windows. You hadn’t seen her since Billy’s funeral, but by the state of her you could tell she was barely coping like yourself.

“And this creature,” you continued, turning back towards the others. “It tried to attack Max?”

“Vecna. He gave her nightmares for a week before trying to kill her,” Dustin exclaimed. “Robin and Nancy figured out that you could be pulled back from his spell with music.”

Your heart sank at the mention of nightmares, your mind going back to the same one you had for weeks.

“Guys,” you sighed. “I’ve been having nightmares recently.”

The car went silent at your revelation, all eyes meeting yours - even Steve’s who was looking at you through the mirror.

“They’re probably nothing though-”

You were once again cut off by Dustin who abruptly turned around in his seat. However, you knew what you said was extremely bad by the fact that Max had began paying attention. Before Dustin could get out a single word, Max had spoken up.

“About what?” She questioned, eyes full of concern. You only shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter. They’re nothing. I’ve had them for months now and nothings happened, Dustin said that its seven days after experiencing them that Vecna tries to kill you. I should be in the clear,” you determined. “Right?”

Nobody seemed to believe a single word you were saying.

“Y/N,” Max brought your attention back to her. “What are they about?”

With a sigh, you began to fiddle with your fingers. “Billy. They’re about Billy.”

---

You were thrust fully back into the world of the Upside Down in Winter.

The kids were correct in thinking that you were being targeted by Vecna and his spells. In fact, they were so correct that Vecna seemed to make it his personal mission to try to get to you more than once.

Your hand gripped Robin’s as you watched Steve and Nancy try communicate with the kids through lights - just as Will had done when he got stuck in the Upside Down. The ground shook under your feet, and your heartrate was so fast you thought you might pass out.

You couldn’t help but almost feel useless as they figured out that there were other portals to the dangerous world - one of them being in Eddie’s trailer.

He was nice, you had decided. A little weird, and definitely knew more about D&D than an adult should, but overall, nice. Dustin vouched nothing but good things about the guy, so it was safe to say that he lived up to your expectations.

However, it didn’t stop the sting in your heart when you noticed just how similar he was to Billy. From the leather jacket, to the way he was constantly worried about his mane of curly hair - it almost gave you whiplash. Which is why you barely spoke to the poor guy.

That didn’t stop him from trying to talk to you.

“Hey, I know I’m not the smartest of the group,” Eddie chimed up before pointing to the four bikes left in the Wheelers garage. “But there’s only four bikes and five of us.”

“That’s okay,” Steve chimed up, looking towards Nancy who was dusting off the seat of her bike. “Nancy can ride on the back of mine.”

You were quick to shake your head, awkwardly scratching your head - a nervous habit.

“I - uh. I don’t know how to ride a bike.”

The group went silent, and Robin offered you a bashful smile before she punched Eddie in the arm.

“You can hop on the back of mine,” he suggested, shooting Robin a side-eye. “If that’s okay with you.”

Nodding, you tried to ignore the deflated look in Steve’s eyes - knowing that he would have to deal with his obvious Nancy pining some other time, as you stood on the pegs attached to Mike’s bike wheels and wrapped your arms around Eddie's shoulders.

"Hang on tight, I haven't done this in a while."

His words didn't fill you with confidence as he began to pedal, but nevertheless you tightened your grip a tiny bit more. You tried not to shudder at the sounds of the Upside Down bats that Robin thought had rabies.

Maybe not rabies, but definitely some other diseases, you thought to yourself.

It didn't take long to reach Eddie's trailer, so long as you didn't count the five times Steve almost crashed his bike because he was too busy staring at Nancy.

You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face when you entered and saw that Dustin was right, there on the ceiling of Eddie Munson's trailer was another gate to the Upside Down.

"Hey!" Dustin waved, from above you causing Robin to let out an 'that's trippy'.

You didn't question Dustin when he threw a rope of tied up pillow cases through the gate, watching in awe as it just hung there in-between the two worlds. Robin tugged on the roped before giving everyone a salute - beginning to climb the rope.

You watched with wide eyes when she reached the top of the Upside Down world and crashed down onto the mattress the kids had lined up under the gate. Eddie only chuckled before volunteering to go next.

Before you could even reach the rope, your entire body froze - the air around you seemed to get colder and more silent, before footsteps began echoing in the distance.

“Y/N!” You barely had time to react to the sound of your name, being thrown against the ground by an invisible force.

Your eyes shut at the pain the shot up the back of your head, teeth grinding together - the air knocked out of your lungs. You sputtered and coughed, trying to regain your sense of reality.

“You could’ve saved me.” Billy.

You kept your eyes glued shut, not willing yourself strong enough to open them - your voice coming out strong as you spoke.

“You won’t get me this time, Vecna. Stop trying to use my dead boyfriend to break me.”

Silence filled the air before you felt slime creep up your face, a sticky finger sliding down your cheek.

“Oh but Y/N, I don’t have to break you. You’re already there, aren’t you?”

Taking a deep breath you tried to ignore his words, knowing that while they were true - you had to focus to get yourself out of this predicament.

“Billy would never say those things,” you spat, finally opening your eyes to look at the monster above you. “He loved me too much. He knew I tried to save him. You will never know what that feels like.”

With all the might in your body, you forced yourself to push him away - beginning to run in the opposite direction where you could see a bright light in the distance. Your Converse slid against the grime on the ground - almost losing your footing once or twice but you persevered, even with Vecna sending images of Billy after you.

It seemed like an eternity before you reached the light, pushing yourself through it only to be caught by the gentle arms of Steve who had tied you to his back with his jacket as he climbed the rope. The both of you laid on the mattress as you began to sob - hands desperately gripping onto Steve as if you were making sure it was really him.

You knew that wasn’t the end - that Vecna would keep trying to come after you until he got what he wanted. But you were just glad to be safe, even if it wasn’t for long.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove imagines #billy hargrove drabble #billy hargrove headcannon #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things headcannon #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfic #stranger things season 4 #stranger things billy

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riotatthemovies · 1 month

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Shaky Shivers (2023) Am I back on a review kick (only on stuff I liked) I've been curious of this one after missing it on last year's festival circuit. The best way to sum it up is it's very cute and has epic yet random monsters. It's a store of two dorky but endearing friends that work in a humbling job. As an 80s sitcom addict I couldn't help but think of them as Tootie and Natalie from Facts of Life as if they accidentally got trapped in a Tales from the Crypt comic. The characters and monsters are all great. I love the misfit friendship and just how slapstick and random the encounters they have with more and more monsters or evil in general. The randomness is supposed to be part of the charm and I agree it is BUT it also suffers with some of the pay off. The matter of fact of everything does add to the friends personas but also suffers in the pacing in my opinion. They deal with Werewolves, Zombies, Witches and cults as well as Bigfoot. I kind of hoped each creature did something much more shocking and upsetting to juxtapoz the cuteness of the unlikely hero duo. Instead each monster and mishap just leads to the next with not enough growing tension or consequence. Sure you don't want this movie to be too dark cause that's part of the irony but I feel there's gotta be a middle ground. It was very refreshing for these characters to be hip yet damaged but still likeable, which is rare these days. All this and again the monsters looked great. Each creature was very creative which is probably why I wanted more. I could imagine these two friends dealing with this each week in a tv show. So even though I had an issue with the pacing I liked this a lot , enough to wish I had more. Imagine Tootie and Natalie crossed with Tucker and Dale and Jack Brooks Monster Slayer.

#Shaky shivers

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hades--baby · 2 years

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The Alpha Up North

Summary: Quinn thought he could escape all of his problems by trekking up north with his bruised, bloody, and nearly dead misfit of a wolf in tow. However, the old-blooded vampire failed to realize that David Shaw wasn't the only alpha that swore to protect Darlin with everything he had. The alpha up north made that clear real fast.

Note: Gregory Keaton just gives off this fatherly love kind of vibe and I thought that I'd extend that love to Darlin (because lord knows they need some of that in their life right now). Let me know what you think and thank you for reading!

(This work was also cross-posted on my ao3 account under hades_baby)

Word Count: 6330

Quinn’s lips were tainted in a dull red tint that matched perfectly to the shade of thick crimson blood flowing from the horrendous open bite marks on Tank’s exposed neck. He’d been relentlessly draining them the entire drive up north, ensuring they only had enough blood in their system to keep them alive and (barely) breathing. The draining hadn’t come to a pause until their face had fallen deathly pale and their skin turned incredulously cold to the touch—just how he wanted them to be.

And though he would never fully admit it aloud, part of him missed the vibrant warmth that used to radiate from his little misfit of a wolf. The same vibrant warmth that used to counter his own sullen cynicism that he’d adhered to over his undead years.

He missed the way they used to show off their sly, confident grin at crowded bars as the two of them threw back an obnoxious amount of liquor and hustled pool to earn some extra cash from the poor souls that dared to play against them. He missed how the two of them used to have fun together. He missed the old them.

The one that actually liked wreaking havoc through the streets of Dahlia as if they had nothing better to do with their time. The one that didn’t give two shits about the unempowered brats they were supposedly friends with nowadays. The one that didn’t report him to the fucking department over some minuscule situation that wasn’t even that big of a goddamn deal.

Well, it wasn’t a big deal to him, at least.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?”

Quinn sucked in a sharp breath, startled from his thoughts thanks to Tank’s strained voice filling the cab of his truck. He flicked his gaze into the rearview mirror, looking over the roughed-up wolf. The bright moonlight graced their face, showing off how little color they still had under their smooth skin. Their eyes were heavily lidded, barely propped open as they tried to scan the dark moving landscape just outside of the car's tinted windows.

Quinn’s hands tightened around the steering wheel until he was practically white-knuckling the round mechanism. The thick sole of his boot pressed down on the accelerator a little more. He needed to get to the cabin he had secured before Tank could gain their strength back. And even though it wasn’t very likely that the slumped wolf would gain their strength back that quickly, it didn’t hurt to get there sooner than later.

“Where the fuck are you taking me, Quinn?” Tank repeated, adding a little more animosity to their tone.

“You don’t have to worry about that, Misfit. All you need to know is that we’ll be there soon enough,” he said, watching them through the rearview mirror for a little while longer before looking back at the open road.

In all honesty, Quinn wasn’t all that worried about keeping a close eye on them. The amount of blood that he had drained from their veins was surely enough to keep them from doing anything rash. Of course, the thought of trancing them to keep them still and complaint had crossed his mind when he first got the jump on them, but he decided that he’d rather play on with a little psychological torture instead.

He wanted them to know that they were too weak to save themself.

That they truly couldn’t do a damn thing to get out of this situation, regardless of how badly they wanted to.

So he opted for just checking in on them every few miles in the rearview mirror of his dusty truck.

He could see them messing with the tight restraints that were skillfully wrapped around their wrists, twisting and turning in an attempt to loosen the ropes, but that did nothing but cinch them tighter than before. They didn’t stop fidgeting until Quinn pulled into a long gravel driveway that led to a small cabin he’d been thinking about the entire drive up north.

Tank was on high alert the moment the tires of the sedan crunched against the loose gravel of the driveway. Their shoulders tensed and their head whipped around with the little strength that was still pumping through their body. A small smirk graced the sadistic vampire’s face as he saw almost all sense of hope slip away from their tired eyes, depleting into near nothing.

Had they finally come to terms with the fact that they weren’t going to be getting away this time?

That tonight would be their last night alive?

That this would be the end for them?

Whatever they were thinking, he hoped it was something drastically hopeless.

He popped the driver’s side door open and practically ripped the back door open. He cinched a grip on Tank’s shirt collar and yanked them out of the back seat just to have them land on the sharp gravel spread over the ground beneath them. The injured wolf groaned in pain, trying to get back on their feet, but Quinn grabbed onto their collar again and started dragging them towards the front door before the soles of their boots could even attempt to plant on the ground. He was expeditiously becoming careless with the way he handled them, completely disregarding their attempts to get away from him.

He didn’t care if he got their scent all over the damn place anymore. He had managed to hide their scent all the way up from Dahlia to this shit-hole backwater county in the middle of nowhere. There was no way that anyone from the Shaw Pack or the Solaire Clan would find them out here with them being completely off the grid.

There was no way that anyone would find them out here.

Quinn kicked the front door open, threw their limp body inside, and slammed the door shut behind him. Fear quickly flooded Tank’s chest and slowly crept up their throat as the entire cabin was enveloped in utter darkness. Not even the faintest glimmer of moonlight found its way inside.

Much to their dismay, the old vampiric bastard had bashed their face to the point of their own blood backlogging their sense of smell, making it practically impossible for their nose to pick up on anything other than the metallic savor of the crimson liquid that was supposed to be pumping through their veins.

So with no sense of smell and no source of light to aid their already struggling eyes, all they could do was lie there and listen to Quinn’s feather-like movements as he moved about the cabin.

Tank hated this feeling.

They hated feeling… helpless.

They couldn’t use the enhanced senses that they had always relied on as a wolf, they couldn’t get free from the damn ropes that were tightly wrapped around their sore wrists, and they couldn’t get the fuck away from Quinn.

They wanted to scream and fight with all their might, but they couldn’t.

And that infuriated them.

Before they knew it, a few low-light lamps flickered on and Tank was slowly granted their sight back. They took a chance to look around, moving nothing but their eyes to take in their surroundings.

The cabin was notably small. It wasn’t really anything but a simple one-room structure with little to no furniture to fill its space. It was quite evident that nobody actually lived in it and they figured that it was probably just some throw-away place that Quinn had managed to get his hands on.

Tank warily pushed themself up onto their hands and knees, but their limbs shook with exhaustion and their tied wrists made it even harder to keep themself upright. They eventually fell back to the hardwood floor, helpless and ready to close their eyes for good.

Quinn abruptly slammed a wood chair beside their shaking form and pulled them up onto it. He cut the ropes away from their wrists only to retire them to the uncomfortable armrests of the chair. He then tied their ankles to the legs, making sure to pull tighter than he really needed to.

“Blood-sucking prick,” Tank muttered under their breath.

“My dear Misfit, you are in no position to be calling me such mean names,” Quinn taunted, looking up at them from his kneeled position in front of them. He tightened the ropes even more before standing upright. “You know, I’ve always thought that this little thing between us would end in some big glorious fight. The type that would leave both of us bruised and battered and almost dead. But here you are, tied up in front of me with no means of escape and little to no fight left in you.”

Tank barely mustered up enough energy to clench their hands into fists, but they weren’t able to hold it for long and they ended up releasing the tension to rest their palms flat against the armrests. The old vampire smiled at the subtle sign of weakness they tried to conceal, thrilled to see that his little wolf really didn’t stand a chance against him anymore.

Quinn unexpectedly shot his hand forward and wrapped his fingers around their neck, squeezing nice and tight. His nails dug into their skin, making them wince in pain as his fingers dug right into one of their open wounds. Most of them had stopped bleeding, but the sudden jerk prompted blood to start seeping from them again.

“Oh, don’t hold yourself back, Misfit,” Quinn said, shaking his head as his grip tightened. His eyes were wide and manic; his pupils nearly dilated to the edge of his glowing irises. A devilish grin spread over his face and his fangs emerged a little more. He let out a deep chuckle, running his tongue over the top row of his teeth. “No one but me is going to be able to hear your cries out here, so you might as well let loose.”

It had been hours since Quinn had started his ruthless assault on Tank.

The poor wolf had endured hours of the vampire's relentless torture and he wasn’t showing any sign of stopping. And for once in their life, Tank wasn’t so sure how much more they could take before they’d give in and give up.

They were slightly amused by the fact that they were actually admitting that to themself.

Out of everyone in their life, they had been the most stubborn about giving up. They had always been the one to pull through, no matter the situation and no matter the cost. Hell, they had been scolded halfway to hell about how reckless they’d been with their lack of self-preservation, yet they always managed to make it out alive. But as they sat strapped to that damn wood chair with blood seeping out of every place imaginable, they really weren’t too sure if they could hold out any longer.

“Well, I think I’m done playing with my food,” Quinn sighed, lazily strolling back over to their limp figure. He stopped right in front of them, the toes of his boots knocking against their own. He cupped their jaw and slowly tilted their head back, forcing them to look into his eyes. “What do you think, Misfit? Should I just end it all here for you? Or should I keep our fun little game running a little while longer?”

Tank clenched their jaw, wanting to snarl some sort of harsh obscenity at him, but they couldn’t manage to get anything out. They attempted to bare their teeth at the age-old vampire, but they could barely get their canines to peek past their bloody lips. Quinn hummed at their cute attempt of aggression.

“I suppose I’ll just put an end to our little game. It was fun while it lasted,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and taking his hand away from their jaw so their head limply dropped back to their chest.

Fuck.

They were going to die in this stupid drabby cabin at the hands of a goddamn monstrosity of a person and there was near nothing that they could do about it.

“How should I do this? Snap your neck? Drain you? Turn you?” he prompted, adding a devilish grin to the last option.

Tank found the strength to tilt their head back enough to look him in the eye again, an almost begging look falling over their face. Quinn smirked and narrowed his eyes at them before cocking his head to the side.

Quinn had never seen or heard Tank beg before.

And he thought he never would.

But now that he’d had a tiny taste of what that looked like…

Now he wanted to see more.

“What’s wrong, Misfit? Afraid to have me as your maker?” he asked as he took a small step toward them. “Or are you more scared about losing the wolf in you?”

Tank squirmed in their chair at the thought of Quinn turning them. They didn’t want to become a vampire and they sure as hell didn’t want him to be their fucking maker. They’d probably end up being like that Adam guy that Vincent and Lovely had talked about. Apparently, the guy had killed his own maker and kept on living (sort of) with that heavy secret under his belt. Except Tank would make sure that everyone knew exactly who tore off Quinn’s fucking head.

“Now that I really think about it, turning you seems like a much more favorable option,” he said, smiling a little more while kneeling down in front of the wolf. “Turning you so you can endure an endless amount of suffering just by my hands alone… sounds fucking extravagant, don’t you think?”

They tilted their head further back in an attempt to get away from him, but they soon realized that they had exposed more of their neck and they immediately snapped their head back down to hide their bloody jugular. Though, that did nothing to stop Quinn from committing his atrocities.

“You know, I always told myself that I’d never actually turn anyone. Too much responsibility in having progeny to take care of. Too much work. But maybe—just maybe—I’ll make an exception for you,” he said, running his tongue over his fangs.

He cupped their jaw with one hand again and roughly forced their head back to expose their neck as he stood up straight. He placed one of his knees on the seat of the chair right between their legs, hovering right over them as he stared deeply into their wide eyes. His thumb gently pulled at their bloody bottom lip before trailing all the way down to the middle of their throat. His eyes scoured their neck for a few long moments, then he took a steady deep breath and slowly lowered his head.

But before he could truly reach their neck, he froze in place and his eyes widened ever so slightly. His head ticked to the side and his eyes flicked toward the front door of the cabin. After a few silent seconds, he narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

He had sensed something that they hadn’t, but what was it?

“Hold that thought, Misfit,” he said with an eerie calmness, looking back into their eyes for a split second before pushing off of them. Their chair rocked back slightly from the force of his shove, but it soon settled back on all four legs. They watched as he peeked past the thick black-out curtains that were covering the windows before making his way to the door and slipping out of the cabin. They let their head slowly teeter before it slumped back down, chin hitting their chest.

Well… fuck.

If he wasn’t going to kill them or turn them now, then they might actually just die on their own from blood loss. They had been feeling like absolute shit for hours, but now it was really starting to hit them. The adrenaline was starting to wear off and an excruciating amount of pain was starting to set in.

Their head felt far too light, their entire body was shivering with merciless chills, and they could feel their mind finally slipping away from the reality of their situation. Their breath was rapid and shallow, their heart was racing, and they were fighting just to keep their eyes open.

They despised the feeling of being out of control.

It all felt wrong.

And for the first time in a very long time, Tank admitted to themself that they were scared.

They’re not sure how long they had been sitting in their fuzzy state of limbo, but a careful pair of footsteps entered the cabin and that was enough to pull them from their daze. They were afraid that it was just Quinn coming back from whatever mindless hunt he had just gone on, but the person who had just walked in didn’t spit some snarky comment like he would have. If it had been the old-blooded vampire, he would’ve been talking their ear off about how he was going to finally end them with some sort of wicked grin on his face.

No, it wasn’t Quinn who had just walked in.

A large, warm hand gently cupped Tank’s face and tilted their head up. Tank slowly peeled their eyes open, silently wondering when they had closed them. Once their vision focused, they immediately thought that they might have actually died because what they were seeing was impossible. They had to be completely fucking delusional or some shit because what they were seeing couldn’t be real.

“Gabe?” they rasped out while narrowing their eyes.

They were quite aware that there was no way that the man standing in front of them could be Gabe Shaw, but they didn’t care for logic anymore. They let the full weight of their head slump into the man’s hand, to which the mystery man let out a deep chuckle as he shook his head.

“Not quite, kiddo. I’m Gregory Keaton. Remember me?” he asked, tilting his head to the side as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over their bloody cheekbone.

Gregory.

Yeah.

They remembered him.

He and Gabe were practically brothers all those years ago. And even though the two alphas had gone their separate ways to assemble their own respective packs, Greg always seemed to find some extra time to spend with the Shaw family. Hell, he had actually been the one to help Tank feel a little more at home when Gabe and David weren’t around to do that themselves.

After their initial introduction—which had been a little rough because all introductions with Tank were a little rough—Greg had quickly found that the young wolf wasn’t really the talking type, so he found other ways to get to know them and to simply spend time with them.

He showed them how to fix up some of the old upholstery on their motorcycle and in Gabe’s old ‘62 Chevy Camaro when they were in high school. He would mutter dumb little dad jokes that Tank pretended to hate even though they secretly loved them. And when Gabe and David couldn’t get through to them, Greg always managed to get them to listen a little (it might take a good thirty-minute motorcycle ride and a heart-to-heart, but he always managed to get through to them one way or another).

It had been years since they had seen him.

The last time they had actually seen him was at… Gabe’s funeral.

Tank had to admit, they really missed the old bastard.

“You still with me, kiddo?”

Their eyes focused back on his face before they slowly nodded. The minuscule movement made their head spin and they immediately stilled, squeezing their eyes shut while leaning their head into his hand some more.

“Yeah, I remember you, Greg,” Tank muttered.

“Good. Let’s get these ropes off of you and get you home,” he said, gently patting their cheek once before kneeling down in front of them. Their head lulled a bit as they watched him cut away the rough ropes.

“Where’s Quinn?”

“Already taken care of,” he said, trusting that the members of his pack had already offed the bloodsucker. He continued to work the ropes off, frowning at the sight of their wounds as he grazed his fingertips over the raw skin of their wrists. The amount of blood, gashes, and bites that littered their skin made him wonder how they had managed to hold out as long as they did. “He won’t be bothering you or anybody else anymore.”

“Good.”

Once the ropes were off, they involuntarily slumped forward. Greg caught them and picked them up with ease, his arms hooked under their limp legs and back in the process of it all. Their head tucked into the crook of his neck, finding solace in his warm embrace.

“How’d you find me?” Tank asked, their rapid breath starting to slow down.

“Ansel noticed that Quinn had been spending an awful lot of time in this little cabin for the past month or so. Once David gave me a call to tell me that you had gone missing and there had been a sighting of him heading out of Dahlia, we assumed that this is where he might have taken you,” he answered, stepping through the door and into the cold forest.

Tall pine trees loomed up above them and the dark sky peeked through the very tips of the fresh green tops.

Tank loved the sight of the star-ridden sky.

They desperately wished that they could keep their eyes open long enough to get a good look at all of the shining stars, but they could barely manage to keep peeling their eyes open after blinking, so they had a feeling stargazing was out of the question. Even so, they tilted their head back to rest against Greg’s shoulder and forced their eyes open so they could watch the stars one last time.

“Hey, Greg?” they started, swallowing hard as they continued to stare at the shimmering abyss above them.

“What’s up, kiddo?”

“I think I’m dying,” they concluded in a strained tone, letting a heavy breath trail their words. “And I think I’m a little scared.”

“You are not dying on my watch. You hear me?” he said, shaking his head as he trekked over to his truck a little faster.

A large group of the Keaton Pack had accompanied their alpha on his mission to rescue Tank. They had been tasked with the job of tearing Quinn limb from limb while their alpha sought out the young wolf that had been snatched away from their own pack. And since the entire group was waiting by his truck, he could only assume that they had taken care of the bastard leech for good.

Greg rested Tank in the bed of his truck and climbed in as he called his healers over. He settled himself in the middle and gently set the younger wolf’s head on his lap, running his fingers through their hair in an attempt to soothe them.

“You’re going to be just fine, alright?” he said, looking down at them. Their eyes were unfocused and he could tell that they were staring past his face and at the stars instead. He remembered that they had a knack for stargazing. There had been countless times he and Gabe had found them lying out on the roof of the Shaw house just to stargaze in peace. “Plus, I have a feeling Gabe would come back to haunt my ass if he ever found out you died on my watch.”

Tank let out a huff of a laugh at that.

“Yeah, he probably would,” they said, a small smile flashing over their face as they thought about what Gabe might have said to them right then and there if he were still around.

And as Tank stared at the glimmering stars with Greg’s fingers soothingly working through their hair, they couldn’t help but feel at peace as they slowly slipped away.

Tank wasn’t all that sure where they were when they’d woken up, but they knew it wasn’t home.

They weren’t at their shitty little apartment in the shady industrial district of Dahlia, nor were they tucked away at Sam’s comfy cabin in the middle of the woods.

So yeah.

They weren’t home.

And that kind of terrified them.

They couldn’t really remember much of what had happened, but they did remember bits and pieces.

Though, part of their memory felt more like a dream than a reality.

Like Gregory Keaton.

Part of them felt like the old alpha had just been a figment of their imagination as they slowly descended into the madness of blood loss that Quinn had so graciously bestowed upon them. But it soon became apparent that they weren’t imagining anything as the bedroom door beside them opened and the person they’d been thinking about stepped into the room. They forced themself upright, hoping to get a clearer view. And the sight was almost enough to send them reeling back onto the mattress.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Greg greeted as he took a seat on the edge of the bed. His weight made Tank sink towards him and they had to plant one of their hands down to keep themself from slamming into his side. He set a hand on their shoulder to keep them from falling any further, which they were more than grateful for because they weren’t too sure if they could have stopped completely on their own. “You gave us a bit of a fright back there. We thought we had lost you for a minute before one of my healers could find your pulse again.”

Tank didn’t know what to say.

They hadn’t seen him in such a long time and with the situation at hand, they didn’t really know what to do, what to say, or what to even think. They felt like they were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

“Here. Drink this. Feels like you’re still running a little cold and this should help warm you up a bit,” he said, gently patting their back as he handed them a cup of what looked to be tea. Tank took it in their shaking hands, happy to get something warm in their system. They just needed something to soothe their soul a bit. “Your pack is on the way. They should be rolling in soon. Oh, and David mentioned something about your mate tagging along too.”

Their eyes widened at his last statement.

The fact that Sam was coming along wasn’t what surprised them.

What surprised them was the fact that David had told Greg.

“So you found yourself a mate, huh?” he teased with a smile as he playfully nudged their shoulder. They nodded before taking a long sip of the warm tea. He had added honey to it. He must’ve remembered that they liked their tea that way. “Does he treat you well?”

“He does,” they answered, smiling slightly. “More than well.”

“Good. You let me know if he ever treats you differently, you hear?” he said, giving them a faux stern look. They nodded their head in response. “But from what I’ve been told, I don’t think I have to worry about that all that much. A vampire with a knack for healing magic? That’s not something you see every day.”

“Yeah, he’s pretty damn special,” they said, their words slurring a bit as they spoke. Greg just assumed that the healing magic was still pumping through their veins pretty hard. “He’s saved me more times than I’d like to admit.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve got a couple of wolf packs and a vamp clan looking out for you now,” he joked, huffing out a light laugh.

“Greg,” someone called from the entrance of the bedroom. The alpha looked up and perked his brows to let the person know that he was listening. “Shaw’s here.”

Tank perked up slightly and took a deep breath through their nose in hopes of catching the comforting scent of their pack, but they weren’t able to pick anything up. They furrowed their brows and slumped slightly, which Greg seemed to notice with ease.

“Senses still shot?” he asked, looking at them with a sympathetic look. They nodded and looked down at their cup of tea. He set a hand on their back and gently patted them a couple of times. “It might take some time for your senses to come back. That bloodsucker did quite a number on you.”

“Right,” they muttered, nodding their head once more.

David soon appeared in the opening of the bedroom. His eyes immediately landed on Tank and they could see visible relief roll off of him. Tank let a small smile pull at their lips before it dropped and disappeared completely. They were too drained to really hold anything up right now. Even the hot cup of tea cradled in their hands started to be too much for them to hold. Greg must’ve noticed that too because he placed his hand under the cup and carried the weight in the palm of his hand.

“Let me take that for you,” he said. Tank was grateful that they could drop their hands back to their lap as he took the mug from them and made his way over to where David was standing.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done tonight,” David started, but he was promptly interrupted by Greg letting out a light chuckle. He placed a hand on the younger alpha’s shoulder and squeezed comfortingly.

“I already told you, David. You and the rest of the Shaw Pack are like family, especially that one over there,” Greg said, gesturing his head toward Tank. He couldn’t help but smile at the young wolf. He viewed them as one of his own kids. Same with David. “I’d do anything to protect you two.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, go on in. They just woke up a few minutes ago,” Greg said, patting David on the back a couple of times before looking over at Tank. “Can I get you anything else, kiddo?”

“I’m alright,” they said, shaking their head. “Thanks, Greg.”

The older alpha nodded once more, gave them both one last reassuring look, and then disappeared into the hallway. David stood frozen in the doorway for a few moments, looking Tank over a couple of times as they kept their eyes trained on the hardwood floor set below them. The tall alpha stepped towards Tank, keeping his strides steady and methodical. He kneeled down in front of them and fell still again.

Tank couldn’t bring themself to look him in the eye.

They wondered if he knew the whole story behind the night's events.

They hoped he knew that they didn’t go after Quinn. That the damned old-blooded vampire had jumped and snatched them while they were on their way home from work. That they didn’t go looking for him on their own. That they didn’t break the very promise that they had made to him and Sam.

They hoped he knew that.

They hoped he knew all of that.

David slowly and steadily raised one of his hands into the air, not wanting to startle them with any quick movement. He set his warm palm on the back of their head and eased them forward, pressing their foreheads together. They both closed their eyes and took a deep breath before Tank completely slumped forward to rest their head against his broad shoulder. He held them up with ease, letting them put their entire weight on him.

“You’re alright,” he whispered, embracing them comfortingly.

Tank squeezed their eyes shut and frowned, pressing their forehead against his shoulder even harder.

Tank wanted to cry.

They wanted to just cry and let it all out.

But they couldn’t bring themself to do that in front of David right now.

“I didn’t go after him on my own. I swear to fucking God, I didn’t go after him on my own. I don’t know how but he fucking jumped me and almost drained me and then we were in the middle of the woods in some fucking cabin and then—” Tank tried to explain in desperate rambles.

“Hey,” David said, shaking his head while slowly pulling them away. He looked them in the eye, making sure to keep them upright and steady as he tried to find the words he wanted to say.

He had never seen them so… vulnerable.

Tank had never been the type to show what was truly going on in their head or in their heart.

They had never been the type to show—what they would call—a moment of weakness.

Seeing them in such a state almost made him freeze.

“You’re not in trouble, Tank,” he started, keeping his voice as straight as he could. “I know you didn’t go after him on your own. And even if you had, you still wouldn’t be in trouble. The only thing the pack and I care about is whether or not you’re okay.”

Tank stared back at him with a wide-eyed look for a few beats before slowly nodding their head in response.

A set of car lights peeked through the blinds of the room, making both of their heads whip toward the window.

“That should be Ash, Milo, and Sam,” David said, sitting back to give them a little space.

The sounds of the front door opening, hushed deep voices, and rushed footsteps echoed down the hallway and led right to the bedroom. Sam soon appeared in the doorway in a flash, almost ramming into the doorway as he slid to a halt. His eyes met Tank’s and he let out a heavy sigh of relief before stepping forward and dropping to his knees in front of them.

David got back up to his feet to make ample space for the two to properly reunite. He made his way back over to the bedroom door, looked back at the pair once more, and then headed out to the living room, where the others were undoubtedly waiting to hear how the young wolf was doing.

“Can I touch, Darlin?” Sam asked as he hastily looked them over. Tears filled their eyes as they nodded their head in response. And the moment his hands gently graced their skin, they lunged forward and fell right into his embrace. Sam held onto them tight, not showing a damn sign of letting go anytime soon. He pulled them close into his chest, cradling his tough wolf.

“I swear I didn’t go after him, Sam,” Tank sobbed, finally breaking down in their mate’s arms. Hot tears streamed from their eyes and their shoulders shook from the intensity of their sobbing. “I swear I didn’t go after him. I promised that I wouldn’t and I swear I didn’t—”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sam interrupted, shaking his head while gently patting their hair down on the back of their head. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t go after him. I know he got the jump on you.”

“I swear I didn’t break my promise,” they whispered, trying to speak coherently with their shaking voice.

“I know you didn’t, Darlin. I know you didn’t,” he reassured, pulling them in even more. He kissed their forehead and silently looked them over as he gently rocked them back and forth in hopes of soothing them. “Another healer got to you before I could, huh?” he said, smiling a bit while playfully jostling them around.

They smiled as their tears started to slow down.

They smiled.

And that was enough to make Sam’s heart melt even more.

“Mr. Keaton seems to care about you a whole lot. Nearly stared me down when he first opened the door,” he continued to joke, hoping to pull a little more of a smile from them as they started to calm down some more. He could hear their heart slowing down from the rapid pace it had once been set at.

“He’s protective, is all. It’s been a few years since I’ve really seen him and he’s still the same,” they muttered in response, slumping comfortably against his chest. “But don’t worry. I’m pretty sure he already likes you.”

“Now that’s just the healin’ magic gettin’ to your head,” he said, shaking his own head a bit.

They let out a light huff of a laugh.

Their heart had finally calmed down and Sam could tell that they were starting to slow down altogether. Healing magic had always struggled with putting Tank down. They seemed to always fight through the usual drowsy effects that typically came along with healing magic. But Sam could see that they were giving into it for once. He could see that they were accepting the fact that they needed rest and that they needed to—for once in their damn life—sleep and heal.

“Are you going to be here when I wake up?” they asked, slowly tilting their head up to look at him.

“Damn right I’ll be here, Darlin,” he said, nodding his head. They tilted their head up and managed to press a gentle kiss to his lips (with the help of him leaning down a bit to not strain their neck). “I’ll be right here.”

“Mkay,” they muttered, nodding their head as their eyes closed.

Sam didn’t care that they were sitting on the floor in their own little awkward bundle. He could wake up with a crick in his neck or a bad back and he still wouldn’t care. He was just happy to have his dear Darlin in his arms, listening to their heart beating clearly, and their lungs breathing in air.

Quinn was dead.

His mate was still breathing.

And they were okay.

They were okay.

#redacted darlin #redacted quinn #redacted gregory keaton #redacted david #redacted sam #redacted angst #redacted asmr #redacted audio #mr. ketaon coming in clutch as that father figure darlin needed <3 #quinn is a dick #but we already knew that

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elvendria · 1 year

Text

NOTICING YOU - e.m x fem reader Part Three

tw: Reader is a cynic who doesn't believe in love, Claudia Henderson isn't the best :/ (is that a trigger? idk.), big sister acts like a parent, smoking, insomniac (??kinda if you squint??), swearing, jealous!Eddie (if you squint), pet names

word count: 4710

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part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

Y/N'S POV

"So, were you able to get through to someone to get your car fixed?" Mom asked. I told her the conversation I had over the phone with Eddie and explained that he'd be here first thing in the morning to collect the car and take it to the shop.

"First thing? But they're always swamped with cars on a Saturday. I thought you wouldn't get seen till Sunday, Monday at the latest." Mom said.

"Same here," I attempted to stifle a yawn but failed. "I've to be up early so uh... goodnight." I turned around and walked away.

I was never close with Mom, and then things kicked off with Dad.

I guess it was then I realised I wasn't as close with either of my parents as I had thought.

I padded down the hall towards Dustin's room in my bare feet, the feeling of the cool wood underneath my feet relaxing me with each step. I passed by my room to see Tews sitting on my bed cleaning herself. I hate that cat and I have no idea why my mom loves it so much.

That's not to say all cats are bad, I just don't like this particular cat.

Knocking on Dustin's bedroom, I waited to hear him say "It's open," before opening it slightly and sticking my head around the door.

"Goodnight boys," I smiled at them, all gathered around together talking about god knows what.

Mike, Will and Lucas will always feel like little brothers to me, I've known them so long. It felt weird seeing them as a trio, and a part of me missed seeing Will around the place. I hope he's happy in California.

"Night Y/n!"

"Thanks for letting us stay over!"

"Sleep. Soon." I said pointedly, "Just because you're in high school now does not mean you are to be up all night. You'll just end up being super tired tomorrow."

"But can't we just have-" Dustin started.

"Dustin the last time you had coffee you went nuts. Not happening again under my watch." I said, leaving the room

"Technically we're under Mom's watch," He mumbled back defeatedly.

I stuck my head back around the door, giving him a look that blatantly said 'Really? Moms' watch? Have you ever even met our mother?' before he groaned causing me to laugh as I exited the room.

Sometimes I love to play the authoritative big sister card just to mess with him, it can really piss him off.

I didn't know how what time 'first thing' was, I'm grateful and all but couldn't he be a bit more specific? Either way, I was going to need to get to sleep so I could wake up early. I set my alarm for 7:30 am, which isn't even a time that should exist on a Saturday morning, so I could get up and be ready for when he calls. I had switched off the handbrake and managed to push the car till it was outside my house. Could've done with Robin's freakishly strong arms but she had her Family Video shift, plus I'm fairly sure I earned a few muscles of my own.

Changing into a pair of old biker shorts and an oversized misfits t-shirt, I crawled into my bed and lay on my side, willing sleep to come, but my head was so full of thoughts it was like there was no switching it off. I lay like that until I could hear everyone in bed, and the faint sound of my mother's snoring echoed through the halls.

When I was certain that she was asleep, I snuck out of the house and sat on the swing bench on our porch, curling my knees up to my chest underneath my shirt and resting my head on them.

There was something about the nighttime, the way the town went silent. As a kid, I used to believe that because it was so quiet, everyone would be able to hear the slightest noise you make. On nights like these, I sometimes wonder the same thing.

Except now I know about science and the speed of sound, so the idea is a complete fantasy.

Sitting on the bench, lighting up a cigarette from my stash that kept my hands slightly warm. I looked out at the sky, not seeing a single star. Not seeing anything but the faint glow of the street lamps from down the road. There was a faint breeze that wrapped around my ankles now and again, but other than that it was a warm night, unusually warm for October.

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I sat there until I could see orange streaks beginning to paint the sky. So much for trying to get some sleep. I unfolded myself from the swing and walked to my room, careful not to wake anyone. Checking my alarm clock, I saw that it was 7 am. I could try and get a 30-minute nap in but knowing me, I'd sleep past my alarm.

I took a shower, scrubbing the smell of the night air off my skin. I wanted to stay in the shower, to feel the steam rise around me, but I didn't have the time. I turned off the water, wrapped my hair and body in a towel, and then made my way to my room to start getting ready.

I debated drying my hair but decided I wasn't in the mood to deal with the frizz today (I never am). Pulling on a low-cropped white shirt, black ripped jeans and combat boots, I got changed and grabbed some cereal before sitting on the couch and reading. By the time Eddie pulled up, my hair was almost dry but still damp in places.

The doorbell rang and I looked at my mother, not surprised to find her fawning over that stupid cat once again. I got up and answered the door, a part of me freaking out before remembering why he was here.

"Hi," I said quietly, fear washing over me as I suddenly realised this was my first time talking to Eddie, face to face.

"Hey," he replied equally as sheepish. Was something wrong? Had I done something?

His eyes moved down towards my exposed waistline, and I desperately wanted to grab a hoodie to cover up.

He must've found the shitty brown carpet very fascinating because he couldn't seem to look away from it. "So the truck is parked out front, I've hooked your car up to it and everything, I just need you to come down to the shop to fill out some stuff." He told me. I figured I'd have to go to the mechanics at some stage today, I just didn't think it would be so soon.

"Do you want a coffee or something before we go?" I pointed my thumb towards the kitchen, the mannerisms that my grandmother drilled into me coming into play again. He looked up, our eyes holding each other and suddenly I felt like there was a magnetic in each of his eyes, drawing me in closer.

From where we were standing you could see beside the kitchen, where my mom was sitting there, talking to Tews like it was a human baby.

"Uhm, maybe some other time?" He said, suppressing a grin.

"Yeah sure,"

Had I just 'yeah sure' d the idea of coffee with Eddie Munson?

"I'll grab my mom's car keys, just hang on two seconds." I turned towards the living room where my Mom was sitting, combing the cat with an old comb of mine.

"Um, there's room up the front of the truck if you want to ride up there with me?" He asked me, "It might be a bit easier."

I turned one more time to look at my mother, who was now singing lullabies to this freaky cat before agreeing.

God, I miss Mews. Now that was a cat who did not like to be coddled.

Just as I was about to pull the door behind me, my mother called out. "Remember you're trying on dresses for homecoming this afternoon! We'd better hurry or all the good ones will be sold out!"

My heart dropped and I wanted to strangle her. I prayed to whoever was up there that Eddie hadn't heard her.

I threw my book bag over my shoulder, I never liked to leave home without it. He opened the car door for me and waited till I was in okay before running to check that everything was hooked up properly. While I was waiting for him, I sat noticing all the little details in it. Things like his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, or a few jumbled-up mix-tapes sitting in the glove box and in the pockets on the driver-side door. A black bandana was thrown across the dashboard, most likely the one that Eddie carries around all the time.

What surprised me most was the pack of hair ties hidden underneath his rolling papers. Although I guess when you have as much hair as he does and work as a mechanic, tying it up is more of an occupational precaution.

He opened his door and threw off his coat before jumping in. He grabbed a hair tie and pulled his hair back, and I tried my hardest not to look as every muscle in his arm flexed. Made all the more visible by his grey muscle shirt, his tattoos on full display.

"Buckled up?" He asked me, I nodded as I closed the seat belt around myself. He did the same and then started up the car. He drove with one hand on the wheel and another on the gear stick, right next to my knee. Every so often there'd be a bump in the road and his knuckles would graze against my jeans or my exposed knee, sending off shocks from where he touched me.

The silence was deafening, the only noise coming from the metal music on his radio. It was a bunch of different bands which made me think it was a mix-tape. I was going to say something, compliment the music, but Eddie beat me to the punch before I could open my mouth.

"So, you're going to homecoming?" His eyes were fixed straight ahead on the road. There was a tone to his words that I couldn't quite decipher, almost nervous.

"Um. Yeah," I fidgeted with my hands in my lap. "last year and all that, figured I'd see what all the fuss was about while I still can."

"And uh," His grip on the steering wheel tightened, his eyes unwavering from the road ahead, "and do you have a date?"

My chest tightened and I suddenly felt like I couldn't breathe given the thickness of the air around us.

"No, it's just me and Robin," I said lowering my head, suddenly very fascinated by my hands, "We'll probably both just sit on the bleachers till 10 pm before figuring out some way home."

"Good," he muttered quietly, almost as if he didn't want me to hear him. I had so many questions, but a few stuck out in my mind.

Was he happy I wasn't bringing a date? Or that I wouldn't be dancing?

"Are you going?" Why had I asked that?

"No, it's uh," He chuckled slightly, "Not really my scene,"

I don't know why my blood felt cold and my heart sank as he said this, but they did.

Master of Puppets by Metallica came on, and I started tapping my foot quietly, letting the questions and feelings fade with every strum of the guitar. Dad hated this song, but I always thought it was a good one. Hearing it again after so long caused goosebumps to make their way across my skin.

"Come Crawling Faster,"

I thought I was singing under my breath, but that last line came out louder than expected. I sat there and prayed he hadn't heard me.

"Obey Your Master," He sang back, a smirk plastered on his face.

His voice sent tingles down my spine and makes the hair on my arms stand upright, leaving me with goosebumps all over my skin. He was so close to me that I was almost certain he could feel the tension rising within me.

He looked like he was going to say something, but then we turned onto the gravel path leading up to the mechanics, and the moment was gone.

Why does he make me feel like this, it's not like I have a crush on him or anything. Crushes are for girls in middle school and people with their heads in the clouds.

Maybe it was just because he was helping me out with the car. Yeah, people find plumbers and firefighters hot all the time, it's just because they're providing a service.

Not that I find Eddie hot. I mean he is very attractive, and when he stretches his arms it makes me feel all weird inside, but I am most certainly not attracted to Eddie.

The truck came to a halt outside the workshop. Eddie jumped out of the truck and rushed around to my side just as I was opening the door.

"Here, it's a bit of a step-down. I'll give you a hand." He said. I swung both of my feet out as he held the back of my arm with his large hand, and I would've been fine.

But I'm me, and I have to fill my daily awkward quota.

I started to climb down, my back to Eddie as I side-stepped out of the van, the coldness of his rings sending mini shockwaves from where he held my arm and wrist when my ankle went from under me, making me fall sideways.

I squinted my eyes, sure that I was going to hit the pavement. An absolute goner that was going to end up in the hospital before dying of pure embarrassment. But the ground never came to meet me.

Instead, I was pulled tight against something, a pair of arms wrapped around my back and legs. It felt like all the breath had left my body, and a strong smell of cigarettes and sandalwood filled my nose.

I opened my eyes as Eddie gripped me to his chest, looking down at me as he held me bridal style. I felt my breath hitch in my throat as his dark orbs explored my face.

I don't know if he did it on purpose or not, but he rubbed his finger in circles across my knee where his hand gripped my leg. The air felt electric, almost as if it could shock us both if we moved. His arm was on my back and I was glad it wasn't a few inches lower.

I was almost certain his dark eyes flickered down to my lips and lingered for a second, before quickly returning to look me in the eye.

We looked at each other in silence. I felt his hot breath fan my face and caught the smell of mint. I was almost certain he was going to say something, but he just cleared his throat.

"Sorry,"

"Are you okay?" He said at the same time as me.

"Oh uh. I'm okay." I stammered through my words, "Thank you."

We looked at each other again, and a small part of me didn't want him to put me down, but that idea was quickly erased from my mind when Eddie cleared his throat again, gradually lowering me till I was on my feet. I could tell that the awkwardness I was feeling was mutual as we both shuffled our feet.

The workshop was on the other side of town, it was a long walk home without the car, and I didn't want to trouble Eddie with driving me home. But it was like he was reading my mind because the next thing he said was,

"You should come in and sit down," He motioned to the desk and chair beside him, piled high with paperwork. "It's supposed to rain on and off all day. I'll drive you home after I take a look at this baby." He unhooks the car from the truck before pushing it into the shop.

"Oh, thanks. You don't have to." I replied, moving towards the desk and placing down my book bag, desperate to keep the nerves out of my voice.

"My pleasure." He smiled.

He bent into the driver's side, fiddling for something.

"Oh, there's a knack for popping the hood, here I can-" I started, but before I could finish he had done it, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie looked at me, and suddenly the concrete floor became very interesting, "Just a bit of pressure and some elbow grease should do the trick." He says, climbing back out of the car.

He opens up the hood and takes a look as I sit down and place my bag on my lap. I want to ask if he minds me doing homework, but I don't want to look like I'm ignoring him or being rude.

"Ok so, " he started, and I suddenly felt a drop in my stomach. What if my baby was fucked, and I could never drive her again? What if all she was good for anymore was spare parts? I was so worked up about never being able to drive my girl again that I completely forgot about the guy inspecting her.

My freak out must've been clear on my face because Eddie's face became very soft and gentle,

"Hey, hey, hey, don't worry, it's only a faulty spark plug and wire casings. You're alignments a bit off and your transmission is failing, but it's nothing I can't fix for you. There are some other things here and there that I'll need to get some parts for, and no offence but your car is an older model so it might take a while to get them all." He gave me a small smile, easing my nerves slightly. Eddie sounded like he knew what he was doing, so clearly he did. Right?

"I'll be honest, none of that makes sense," I said, as he walks around and pulls out the chair for me. He's surprisingly chivalrous, opening car doors and pulling out chairs. I don't know what I expected him to be like, but it wasn't this. "I don't think she's ever been looked at after Dad renovated her." I sat in the chair and wonder why I ever thought my dad was a reliable person as Eddie walks into what I assume is a storage closet.

"Here," he says, handing me a radio and a box of tapes that were just around, "Pick out some music, I wanna see what you choose." He had put the car on a lift earlier and was in the process of raising her, a skateboard and toolbox beside him. Once he was happy she was at a reasonable height he dropped to his knees beside the board, then flipped himself over so he was lying flat against it, using it to push himself under the car.

I was flicking through the mix tapes he had when one stood out to me. Dad used to play it for Dustin as a kid, which in hindsight seems a bit weird but at the time it made him laugh and dance like crazy.

Rock You Like A Hurricane by Scorpions started to echo around the building, and I hesitantly pulled out my economics textbook and attempted to try and understand this nonsense they tried to teach us, while Eddie just silently bopped his foot along to the tempo.

Silence passed between us as I attempted to do homework and Eddie tried to fix my car, the only sound surrounding us being the music from Eddie's radio. Once homework was completed I started on a piano lesson plan for Joanna Kelly, a girl who lived down the street from us, I gave her parents a discount given how nice they were to myself and Dustin growing up.

When that was over, I slyly pulled out a math notebook and began to work out my expenses. Eddie could try and sugarcoat it as much as he wants, but I knew this service wasn't going to be cheap. I mean, needing to get replacement parts? It's got to cost at least $2000+, which is definitely more than I make teaching kids how to play twinkle twinkle and three blind mice. I'd landed a job over the summer at the Hawkins Hypnotic Record Store, but only as a way to save up for college.

Now I'll have to apply for scholarships if I want any hope of getting into somewhere decent. That meant taking on more extracurriculars and writing a killer college essay.

Ms Kelly had advertised on the intercom the other week about finding someone to help out in the front office for extra credit. Looks like I was going to be taking her up on it.

I'm barely going to have time to breathe let alone sleep.

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Listening to Eddie banging and crashing around the car had me nervous, but only a small bit. Eddie knew what he was doing, his uncle didn't seem like the kind of guy to give Eddie a job based on familial connections.

Suddenly Eddie comes flying out from under the car, grease and oil covering his face and sweat glistening along his arms, his tattoos practically shining.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts about how much this was going to cost me that I didn't even notice him talking to me.

"Hey, Y/n?" He asked with a touch of confusion, "Hellooo?"

My head snapped to look at him, his voice bringing me to my senses.

"Sorry, I was lost in my own mind. Worrying about stuff y'know?"

He rubbed the grease off his face with a cloth and a soft grin, his eyes closed. I took this moment to examine him a bit further. He looked like he had strong arms, and his tattoos were kinda impressive and cool. I heard he paid his friend a 3 months supply of weed, and they did them with a pin and some type of ink.

But I don't know if any of that is real.

"What does a pretty girl like you have to be worrying about?"

Pretty girl.

The words bounced around my stomach before settling between my thighs. I squeezed them together as if on instinct, the words rolling over my skin like waves.

I remained silent, not too sure how to answer that, my mind was blank as I tried to ignore the sudden throbbing I felt.

A few moments pass by and Eddie sits up and looks at me, his hair coming loose from the hair tie.

"Hey, could you pass me the wrench? It's on the counter over there, it's the one with the round-"

"I know what a wrench looks like Eddie, I'll grab it now," I said shuffling around to the counter to look for it, silently loving the way his name felt on my tongue

5, maybe 6 minutes pass, and I've no luck. I had handed him a wrench, but apparently, it wasn't the right wrench. So now I was back staring at a workspace full of stupid tools with stupid names.

I hadn't even heard Eddie come up behind me until I felt his breath.

"Here, let me help" He spoke softly, "It's the least I can do,"

I wanted to tell him that he was fixing my car, and it was the least I could do to find the stupid wrench when suddenly his hand was on my waist as he moved to step beside me. His fingertips brushed off me like tiny flames searing into the exposed skin, and I knew what was coming next.

I tried to resist it, believe me. But I can't help it. I've never been able to, it's my number one weakness. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth as I braced myself.

His fingers trailed along the base of my back. I managed to suppress the moan, but that was about it. Like always I arched my back and jerked sideways in a fit of the most unattractive laughs you can picture.

Eddie didn't have to pull his hand away, I had already squirmed from his grip as he looked at me stunned. A toothy grin formed on his face as he crossed his arms.

"What was that?" He said laughing slightly.

Looking at him laugh made me laugh more. It was like someone flipped my giddy switch. I turned to the countertop and bent over on it, determined to catch my breath with my hands clasped behind my head.

"Oh god," I said breathlessly, "I'm sorry, I just have a really ticklish back."

I couldn't see his face, but when he spoke he whispered,

"Heh, yeah," He said lowly, "That's definitely a first. I'll try not and accidentally tickle you in the future." I felt like he was grinning, but I was too embarrassed now to even look him in the eye.

I nearly made a potential sex noise in front of Eddie Munson.

After a bit of silence, I hear him say "Found it, it was a torque wrench I was looking for, sorry for the confusion."

His voice had become very soft, and once again we were wrapped in silence, only now it wasn't uncomfortable.

As the day went on, and while I was fretting over how I was going to pay for my car and most of the house bills, a few people came in to drop off their cars, barely exchanging words with the guy classed as the town freak. Eddie didn't look too bothered as they tossed him their keys before turning on their heel and walking away, but something told me deep down it annoyed him.

But what could I do? I doubt he'd want any consolation from me, he barely knows me.

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"Well, from the looks of things, the repairs shouldn't take more than 3 to 4 weeks. Maybe 5." He told me, which downhearted me slightly, I mean a whole month without my car? Maybe more? That was a whole month getting the bus to school, adding an extra touch of hell onto the day.

"Oh, okay. Would you be able to give me a rough idea of the price? It's ok if you can't, I really appreciate you doing this for me." I gave him a slight smile and watched curiously as he looked to the ground and walked behind the counter. He almost looked nervous.

"It's not going to be cheap, as you probably guessed, but luckily for you," He released a breath that sounded like he had been holding onto it for a while, resting his fist underneath his face "Flattery works with me."

I gave a small chuckle, relieved that he was easing the tension.

"I'll write up a docket next time you're here, we can sort something out then." He said calmly, moving to sit back in his chair. Meanwhile, my heart had started beating a mile a minute.

"Next time I'm here?" I asked curiously

"Yeah, next time you're free and I'm working on your car. It's kind of nice to have someone around who appreciates good music," He was flipping through papers on the countertop, and I was praying he didn't look up anytime soon and see the mixture of surprise and confusion on my face. He looked at the clock on the wall behind him and I saw that I had spent the whole day here, and it was almost 9 pm.

"C'mon it's getting late. Plus now you definitely can't walk home, it's too dark. My car is parked out front, I'll give you a lift." He pulled his keys off the rack and threw on his jacket that he took in from the back of the van earlier.

"Um, thanks. Means a lot." And suddenly I was back to tripping over my words in front of him.

He likes having me around?

He appreciates my music taste?

Edward Munson, what are you doing to me?

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part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

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