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predestinatos · 6 months

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warm enough for you | CL16 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

summary: charles has a special way of getting under your skin, especially when he insists on staying after the party is over. chapter 1 of an ongoing series.

tags: enemies to lovers, smut with a bit of plot, cocky!charles, bratty!yn

word count: 3.6k

minors dni ──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! warnings & note underneath

warnings: smut, drunk (tipsy) sex, oral (f!receiving), penetration, unprotected sex.

author's note: first time attempting at writing smut and posting anything so please keep up with me. currently working on part 2.

Everyone was slowly leaving your apartment, the party reaching its natural end. Bottles were scattered across your living room, but apart from that, the flat was not as messy as expected. The party was more of a get together, given the small venue where you lived.

You were dizzy, the alcohol getting to your head and body, but conscious enough to decide that you could still clean things up before going to sleep. You waited for everyone to leave, and as you were getting ready to finally let out a deep breath you seemed to be holding the whole night, you notice someone standing, leaning against the kitchen doorframe. “Fuck you scared the shit out of me,” you start. His tall figure contrasted with the multicolored shadows of your living room, still dancing to a rhythm that was no longer there.

Then he chuckled. You knew it was him, he did not have to make a sound for you to recognize his frame, the way he always crossed his arms when he looked at you, as if in constant judgment. But if you had any doubts, that sound gave you all the certainty you needed. It was the chuckle he let out before a snarky remark. “I’m sorry, princess, I didn’t know you were so sensitive…” and there it was. The pet name used solely to annoy you, the tone that clarified his only purpose was to get under your skin.

“I would argue with you, but honestly I just want to clean up so please leave, thank you.” It was true. You enjoyed entertaining this back and forth, feeling him getting more and more irritated yet pleased with himself. But you were not in the mood for it, at least not now. Your head was softly spinning and taking your mind off of things is exactly what you need.

As you walk past him to the living room, in an attempt to showcase how you were not going to even acknowledge him, let alone join him in his games, he pushes himself off of the doorframe. “Just thought you could use some help.”

This was ridiculous, and you let out a loud, obnoxious laugh. Since when does he want to help you? Ever since the day you two met, he made it his mission to be as unhelpful as he could, rolling his eyes at everything you said, giving counter arguments to your opinions even if he agreed with them, all whilst smiling towards you with the look of pleasure over someone’s anger. You tried your best to avoid him, but it was impossible to do so, since your friend group was the same. Wherever you went, there he was, and vice versa. Eventually, obviously, you started acting the same way towards him as he did with you, and this just amused your friends even more. That was why he was here, in your apartment. He comes with the friends package, whether you like it or not.

Once again, apart from the laugh, you said nothing else. Instead, you leaned down and started picking up the empty bottles from the floor, whilst the lights kept changing colors from blue to purple to red. To your surprise, you hear him do the same, although he stumbles on himself a bit more than you. “Lightweight” you say, smirking, making your way towards the kitchen to put the bottles in a trash bag. That, and because the silence in the living room was too loud, made it too tight for both of you to fit.

As you placed the empty bottles carefully in the bag, avoiding the loud noise of glass on glass to heighten your soon to come headache, you feel a hand on your waist. His hand. His grip was tight and soft at the same time, sending shivers down your body which contrast with your annoyance. “Excuse me” he said behind you, almost whispering in your ear. His hand left your waist as fast as it got there, an indication of how he was aware you wanted more. “Was this less scary?” he asked, ironically.

You turned to look at him, almost ignoring the fact that you were trapped against the balcony as his body. You could feel his gaze on yours, and while you tried to hold it, you realized you couldn’t. The best you could do was run a hand through your hair in an attempt to disguise the tension running through your body. “You’re such an asshole” you said.

He finally looked away while smiling to himself, staring out the window. You took a second to notice the way his throat bobbed up and down, his hair was messy and careless due to the alcohol on his system which lowered his inhibitions. “You like it though.” Before you could turn away, his gaze stared at your again. His breathing was heavier than usual, the drunken smirk on his face juxtaposing with his furrowed eyebrows and darkened eyes. His face was so close, too close, for you to think straight. You looked at his lips, breaking eye contact once again, letting him win once again. “You wish” was all you could reply.

Without moving, his voice asked in defiance, “so what if I do?” You could feel his eyes exploring your body, his chest rising and falling in deep, steady, too controlled breaths. The red light in the living room shone behind him, highlighting his shape hovering above you. “That’s rich coming from you” you snickered. As much as you were feeling the tension between you both, as much as your teasing and bickering was reaching to a degree of immense repressed desire every time you two were in the same room, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. You couldn’t.

The first time you two met, he went out of his way to drunkenly inform you, at a club, that you two “would never happen” and that he “would never fuck you.” To this day you fail to understand where the comment came from, to this day you don’t understand why he hates you so much but insists on making his presence known to you.

At first he seemed confused at your comment, his eyes searching your face for an explanation, but soon enough they widen in realization. Letting out a soft laugh, Charles ran his hands through his hair, making it even messier. “You still think about that?”

It was a ridiculous question, and he knew it. It was hard to hear something like that from someone who you basically had just met, even though he was drunk when he said it. You had not even had time to consider any sort of thing happening between you two and he had already declared it impossible. It seemed unbelievable that someone could be so full of himself to the point of declaring he was not going to bed with you, even before you showed any interest.

You pushed him away softly, and he did not stop you, despite his clear disappointment. That emotion was quickly replaced by a raising of eyebrows as he saw you open the door to the fridge and taking out two cold beers, handing him one. “You don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon, so help yourself.” Was all you could say.

This behavior could be explained by the alcohol running through both of your veins already, by your tiredness over the night, or the sheer need for company you had been needing for a while. You moved towards the living room again, slouching down on the sofa, and you needed not look back to know Charles was following you.

He lifted your legs, which were resting softly on the couch, only to sit down and place them on his lap carefully, with a grin splattered across his face. His side profile revealed a certain rigidness, his jaw tight and tense, but his eyes were soft and calm. “Did you mean it, though?” you asked. You seemed to have interrupted his thoughts, because his expression was lost at your sudden break of silence in the dark room.

“What do you think?” he asked back, never willing to give you the upper hand or satisfaction of a normal conversation. You tried to distract yourself from his cold hand caressing your leg, mostly because you did not know how much of it was intentional. He seemed to be doing it so nonchalantly and carelessly, you wondered if most of it was just instinct.

You tried to calm your voice before you replied, even though the first word that came out of your mouth sounded deeper and higher at the same time, uneven and nervous. “Well- I think, according to what you said that nigh-“ you started, but couldn’t finish. He did not allow you to, interrupting you and turning his face to you for the first time since you two sat down. “I know you’re not that dense, princess.”

Even in the darkly lit room, you felt his gaze burning your skin, focusing on your lips, then your neck. Meanwhile, you stared at his hand, moving slightly up your leg, sending shivers throughout your whole body, shivers you wish he did not notice, but knew, deep down, he was aware of. He knew the effect these had on you, he knew how to please, because that was his reputation. And you hated it at first, hated that he was so confident in his skills and so utterly arrogant about them, but now it only aroused you even more. You took a big sip of your beer, in an attempt to cool your now burning body.

That seemed to remind Charles he was himself holding a bottle of beer in his own hand, because upon seeing you swallow the liquid, he looked at the hand which was holding it. Moving it in order to hold it by the neck, grinning to himself in proud arrogance, he brought it close to your skin, your body hissing in pleasure at the temperature. You closed your eyes and exhaled softly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much this seemingly simple action affected you, but also not wanting him to stop.

He whispered your name, the request for you to look at him implicit in his voice, and you complied. His movements did not stop, a slow game he seemed to be playing with you, in an attempt to see how far he could go. “You look so fucking hot,” he breathed.

Your body was aflame with lust, and so was his, you could tell. You could see him struggling to even speak clearly, to move clearly, trying his best to control his movements which threatened to unleash themselves. “Careful, Charles, you don’t want to break your promise,” you teased, as you slowly moved closer to him, both in defiance of his actions and tempting him to proceed with them.

He freed both of his hands as you placed yourself directly in front of him, sitting on his lap, feeling his erection through his jeans. “You’re making it very hard for me not to do it” he murmured. “Am I?” you asked again. You were feeling bold, enjoying how both of you were toying with the thin line between hate and desire, between forbidden and allowed. Charles merely nodded hungrily, his hands placed on your hips, caressing them softly.

Your pulse quickened at the touch, but also at his greedy and dark expression. You moved your hands towards his shirt, which you start unbuttoning slowly, revealing more and more of his skin slowly. Before you could move to the fourth button, he abruptly grabs a hold of your wrists and pins you to the sofa, underneath his frame. “Stop being such a fucking tease,” he demanded with an aggressive ardor in his voice. With that, he guided your hand which he was still holding towards his erection. You realized the agony he must be in, how his cock must be throbbing underneath those layers of fabric. You felt weak yourself, with an intoxicating need to undress, to ignite the fire that was visibly about to burst into crimson flames.

“You deserve it” you replied with a smirk. It didn’t seem to convince him, this attempt of yours at seeming stronger and unaffected by what was happening. You and him were playing a game but it was getting too real, too intense, too tempting. Letting go of your hand and getting closer to you, his lips mere inches away from yours, he placed a hand between your legs, feeling the pooling wetness growing. Your whole body shuddered at this, a moan escaping your lips and giving you away. “You’re just making it harder for yourself,” he whispered smugly, lips brushing against yours.

Desperately you pulled him in for a kiss. His kiss was filled with intoxicating craving, a groan escaping his lips at the sudden action, his hips grinding against you in frenzied movements. Breaking your kiss, his lips moved towards your neck, softly biting it and leaving wet marks as he kept going down. You undid the knot holding your short dress together, thanking yourself for the easy-access choice of wardrobe.

As he kissed your stomach and paused at your navel, looking up at you as if asking for confirmation. You looked at him and saw how he looked: disheveled and flushed, his cheeks red and messy hair. He looked absolutely mesmerizing, the mix of complete submission but demanding attitude affecting your body through a quickened pulse. You could only nod your permission, finding yourself at a loss of words. He did not hesitate to pull down your lacy underwear, leaving you exposed to him, feeling his warm breath against you. All at once, his lips were exploring your opening, followed by his tongue, moving with ravish.

You cried audibly in pleasure, your back arching against him in untamed pleasure. Unable to hold his own need for pleasure, Charles unzipped his jeans and began stroking himself. His ragged grunts made your body melt in jolts of bliss, and watching him touching himself as he ate you out sent you completely over the edge.

He raised his eyes at you as he kept savoring you, some of his hair sticking to his forehead, his gaze filled with contrasting innocence and total control over you. He pulled his lips away from you, placing himself above your frame, making you look so small in comparison to him. He hovered over you, shirt completely unbuttoned, hand still pleasuring his cock, visibly throbbing with need. You couldn’t help but lick your lips at the sight of him, face wet from your juices and his saliva, chest rising and falling incoherently. “I knew you’d love it” he breathed out.

It was admirable, really. How he still teased you and made it his mission to get under your skin, even like this. “That’s all you’ve got?” you replied, eyebrows raised, eyes half closed in unspoken defiance. “You’re jerking yourself off like a desperate teenager and I’m the one ‘loving it’?” you were testing him. Trying to see how much you could push him over the edge, annoy him, how he would take it out on you – or not.

“God you’re such a fucking brat” he hissed, holding your body with ease and turning you around, lying on your stomach. With his knees, he spread your legs apart and positioned himself between them. You felt him lower himself down, preparing yourself to be filled up, to quench the thirst growing at every passing second but- nothing was happening.

“What the fuck-“ you complained, annoyed. It was slightly embarrassing, your frustration over how long he was taking, and when you turned your head around slightly to see what was wrong, you saw that he had won. He was doing it on purpose, despite his own desperation to bury himself inside you. Amused, he chuckled bringing his hand to your back, caressing it as if to ease your pain in mocking comfort. “You have to tell me what you want, princess.”

“You can’t be serious” you hissed back. But he was, and you knew it. You had gotten this far already, and yet he would not let this go, and you did not know why he insisted so much. You had no idea how much it turned him on to see that only he could affect you like he did, to see how much control he had over you.

Rolling your eyes and doing your best at a monocordic voice, you complied “fuck me, Charles.” Yes, you were being bratty and petty, and yes, you would do anything just for him to fill the emptiness you were feeling inside you.

“You’re such a brat,” he growls as he thrusts himself into you. Your instantly arch your back in pain ad pleasure, feeling his whole body vibrating into you with untamed hunger. His hands grip your waist and force you to switch from a lying position to all fours, allowing him to access you easier. He continued his thrusts as he left bites on the back of your neck, and you filled the room with your cries.

He was not being soft or sweet about it. Charles was completely immersed in his need to have you, so much so that he could barely see anything apart from you, back arched in pleasure for him, the switching lights illuminating every curve of your body in sensuous effect. He dreamt about possessing you like this so often, thought about how good you’d feel so many times, that what was happening seemed to him unreal. He felt himself close to coming as you clenched around him, but before he could so, he pulled himself out of you.

“Not yet,” he started. His voice was husked and lazy, a reflection of how much restraint it was taking him not to fill you up already. You were about to protest, being so close yourself, but as you turned around you found yourself mesmerized by the sight of him. His green eyes were glossy, his face completely flushed and sweaty from withhold pleasure. As you stared at him, he raised an eyebrow and gave you a half-smile. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, doing nothing to fix it, but it didn’t matter. He seemed almost shy about how you were looing at him, which was insane and ridiculous, given what you were doing, what you were.

“I want to look at you” you said. This caused Charles’ eyes to widen in surprise, not expecting your bluntness. Even you were shocked at what you said and how demanding you sounded, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Holding one of your ankles and placing it on his shoulder, Charles entered you with unleashed violence, his gazed interlocked with yours. You thought about how pornographic the view must be for him as well, your swollen lips, some tears of pleasure running through your cheeks, and a sloppy smile plastered across your face. You feel absolutely lightheaded, almost drunk with ecstasy. “Putain, j'aime quand tu me regardes comme ça” he said, French escaping his lips as he loses all capacity to form coherent thoughts. This just made your pulse quicken, your skin bursting with fulfillment.

His pace fastened even more, as he grunted and throbbed with how good he felt inside you. “Your cunt feels so fucking good” he kept repeating, his eyebrows furrowed as if attempting to delay his orgasm. “Charles, I- I’m gonna cum” you try telling him, between breaths and moans. “Fuck, fuck, look at me” he demanded, holding your face so it wouldn’t move away from his gaze. With that, you erupted in pleasure, completely undone beneath him, body trembling.

The view was so overwhelming, Charles couldn’t help but come as well, filling you up with fervent ardor, his body falling limply on top of yours. He remained there, his breathing uneven and erratic, just like yours.

You both lost track of time as you lay there, together. You could have fallen asleep like that, maybe you had, there was no way to tell. He felt warm and comfortable against you, and you felt so close and secure to him that neither of you dared to move.

After a while, his fingers starting drawing small, invisible designs on your still sensitive skin, causing you to giggle. For some time, you two just existed together with nothing else retraining your behavior, your own hands playing with his soft hair, a tired smile on his face.

You wake up with light filling your living room, giving you momentary blindness. The headache was done with its threat to show up, now attacking you with full force, limiting your movements and thoughts. Despite everything, you remembered the night before. Even if you did not, there was evidence that something had happened – or, better, there wasn’t any, and that’s what caught your attention.

The living room was pristine and looked untouched. You were fully dressed in some comfortable clothes, and the TV was on despite the fact that its volume was almost fully off. It seemed as if this was an ordinary day, but you knew it wasn’t.

You grabbed your phone and stared at its screen empty of any sort of texts, notifications or messages. Nothing to prove the night before. You knew it was a mistake to do so, but you couldn’t help typing out the text:

To: Charles (Asshole) Hey, got home safe? (11:33am)

All you got back was a small text underneath yours, which said “Read (11:47)”

#please dont be hard on me ive never tried this before #im sensitive #sort of enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc smut #smut with a bit of plot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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It starts in Eddie's second senior year, close to the beginning of the semester. Eddie's in trig (again). He's good at math, but Mundy fucking sucks, always giving Eddie shit for breathing, or his shoes squeaking on the linoleum, or whatever, and he ends up with detention most days. So, he hardly ever shows and can't be bothered to do the homework, even though he knows the answers more often than not.

On this particular day, Mundy is in a bad mood, on Eddie's case way more than normal. In the heat of frustration, Eddie scrawls, "I fucking hate this class" on a scrap of notebook paper, and for reasons he can't begin to explain, leaves it folded on the window ledge. He doesn't think anyone will answer; fully expects the paper to be gone come morning with maybe another detention slip under his belt to show for it. He's a little flabbergasted, the next day, when the note is still there, and loses his mind a little when he sees the words "tell me about it" underneath his first message. He doesn't recognize the handwriting, sloping and a little looped, and for most of the class period, he's too bemused to respond. Right before the final bell rings he scrawls, "trig. You?" He leaves the paper on the ledge again. "Algebra 2 :(" is the response.

They keep it up, just a few words at first, before Eddie accidentally doodles on the page, and the other guy scribbles a hasty formula, the math spectacularly wrong. There's a little arrow leading to the words, "this shit sucks." Eddie re-writes the formula with the correct math, leaving careful notations of how and why. The next day he sees, "Shit, dude, I totally get this now. Mundy should retire and let you take over." Which pleases Eddie down to his core.

The messages get longer, nothing super personal, but complaints about life, math help, Eddie's silly little doodles, bad jokes, the slightly lewd drawings typical of teen boys. Eddie's never had a better attendance record in his life, but there are some days where his notes are left unopened. Most remarkably a couple week period before Thanksgiving, where he goes unanswered for so long he figures whatever thing they had going is done. But after the holiday, the notes start up again, with no acknowledgement they ever stopped. Eddie doesn't bother questioning it.

They keep it up almost all year, and they're definitely friends, even though they're totally anonymous. And that wouldn't have changed, except it's the day before spring break and Eddie's vibrating out of his skin with anticipation of the time off, so he forgets his dnd notebook in Mundy's class. He makes it all the way to Click's before he realizes, then sprints back across the school. He crashes through Mundy's door, tripping a little over his own feet.

"Sorry," he pants. "I just left--" he looks over to his desk, far corner right by the window, and then forgets every word he's ever known because Steve Harrington Steve Harrington King Steve, stares right back at him. And he just. He stops and fucking laughs, because all this time--this whole goddamn year--it's been Harrington he exchanged notes with. And sure, the jock's star has fallen in the last few months, with the breakup with Nancy and all that shit with Hargrove, but it's still Steve Harrington. With his big house and his fancy car and his girls. It's pretty Steve Harrington, the focus of Eddie's most hopeless daydreams.

He has a few seconds to see Harrington's hazel eyes go wide, before Eddie spins on his heel and makes a hasty exit. He absolutely doesn't spend the break thinking about the notes, matching what Harrington wrote with the gossip Eddie heard on him from the past few months.

Once break ends, he doesn't bother going to Mundy's class at all.

The Friday of the first week back, Eddie walks out to his van, only to find King Steve leaning up against it. He's doing that obnoxious thing where he has one leg bent, foot resting against the side panel, arms crossed over his chest, stupid hair falling in glorious cascades around his face. It's ridiculously, unfairly attractive.

"What do you want?" Eddie asks. He opens his front door without fully looking at Steve.

"Can we talk?"

Eddie snorts, "what could you and I possibly have to talk about."

Steve narrows his eyes. It's so bitchy and so fucking cute it makes Eddie queasy. "You know what."

"Enlighten me, Harrington."

"C'mon, man, the notes!"

"What about them?

"Don't be stupid, Munson, you know what. Why'd you stop?"

Eddie pulls a pack of camels and his lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Lost its appeal once I knew who was on the other side. Surprised you even want to keep it up now that you know you've been writing to the freak."

He pointedly ignores the little jolt Harrington gives at that, like the words hurt. Which is pretty rich from Steve Harrington, former #1 bully of Hawkins High.

"I've always known it was you," he says.

"You don't--wait what?"

I've known since, like, the first week, Munson."

"How??"

"What do you mean 'how,' dude, you're always drawing little pentagrams and d20's. Writing the word "Slayer" over and over. Who else would it be?"

And he can't even deal with the fact that Harrington knows what a d20 is (what the fuck) with everything else the other boy just said.

"I gotta go," is his only response. He ducks into his van, slamming the door basically in Harrington's face, before peeling out of the parking lot.

✏️✏️✏️✏️

It's the last day of school. Eddie's failed again. His grades, which weren't great to begin with, took a sharp nosedive after spring break, and he just can't wait to be done with this place for a few months. Harrington hasn't spoken to him again, and Eddie tries his hardest to ignore the other boy (aside from seeing him hanging out with Robin Buckley, a junior and a band geek, besides, and he forcibly has to remind himself that he doesn't care what Harrington does).

He slouches into his last math class of the year, slumping over in his seat. He rests his head on his desk, eyes blankly staring out the window as Mundy talks about what a joy most of them were to have in class. His eyes are unfocused, he contemplates a nap, and then he sees it. The tightly folded piece of paper resting on the window ledge.

Eddie almost doesn't take it. He almost ignores it, but he physically can't stop himself for reaching for it, unfolding it, staring at Harrington's now familiar handwriting.

Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me. Buckley helped me see how that maybe freaked you out a little. I know I used to be a piece of shit. But I'm better--or I'm trying to be. And I'm so fucking sorry for the shit I did to you before and the things I didn't bother to stop. You don't owe me forgiveness, but you should know that I regret all of it. I liked passing notes with you. You made me laugh, and I don't know. It was nice to think someone liked me for reasons other than that I'm Steve Harrington, or whatever. I'd really like it if we could be friends. I get if you can't do that or don't want to.

Whatever the note actually ended with is scribbled out in pen so thick Eddie can't make it out.

All day he thinks about the note, the apology, all of it. Eddie thinks, if he's smart, he won't forgive Harrington. That he knows better than to trust him. But Eddie's never actually been that smart in this way, so he's not totally surprised to find himself walking to Steve's car after the last bell rings.

This time, Eddie's the one with his foot resting on the side panel of Steve's BMW, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn't have to wait long before Harrington makes his way to the car, chestnut hair dancing in the breeze, biceps on display in a short-sleeve polo. A little smile dances across his lips when he spots Eddie.

"So, you gonna tell me how you know what a d20 is, Harrington, or do I have to guess?" Eddie offers the other boy a cigarette.

"Babysitting?

"Babys--Are you serious??" Eddie splutters. Steve Harrington babysits. Steve Harrington babysits little dnd playing nerds. Steve Harrington wants to be his friend.

A full grin spreads across Steve's perfect face and Eddie is absolutely, 100%, fucked.

(Part 2)

(Steddie Notes is now posted in full on ao3!)

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ghouljams · 19 days

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Home [Chapter 6]

Prev Part

Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, healer!reader, Soap x f!reader, slow burn, f!oc cameo(Witch), sea travel, grief, kidnapping(sort of)

Summary: Again you find yourself at the mercy of the Vikings' will, moved without your consent to a place you'd rather not go. You must be going mad, somehow it all reminds you of home.

Packing up camp takes less time than you’d thought, though you suppose many hands make light work. Your hands aren’t saved from that work either. Despite decidedly not being a viking you’re directed to assist with collapsing and packing tents. Mactavish points out where to store them on the ship, before picking up crates and barrels with a soft grunt. You resent being given the easy work, relegated to burden before you even set out, but you would resent being given anything harder too.

Working with vikings. Your blood boils at the thought, but you have no other way to go. With no pressing medical needs you’re treated the same as every other man in the crew. You’re not sure whether to resent that fact or laugh. Are you a woman or aren’t you? Are you surrounded by wolves or are you taken into their burrow? Will you find hands shoved under your clothes, or won’t you?

You stick to Mactavish, try not to be underfoot after the first viking you bump yells at you. The men are all preoccupied with carrying their burdens, if it weren’t for Mactavish you might see threads of escape. You might have taken the chaos of packing the ship as your best chance to get out of here. But Mactavish seems to welcome your company, chattering away as he directs you to grab crates and load the long boat. His hand is firm on your back, always touchy even when it’s not called for.

“Is nae a long journey,” He explains, “jus’ across the straight. We’ll be there before ya ken it.”

It doesn’t escape your notice how excited your viking counterpart is at the prospect of going home. If it were you, and to some extent it is, you wouldn’t be so eager to part with your homeland. As you see it Mactavish may as well renounce the tartan he wears over his shoulders, eager as he is to be a viking. You don’t have much choice in where you go, but you’ll be damned if you’re eager to leave.

You’re employed, that’s it. You work or you die. You catch the captain’s eye as Mactavish shows you where you’ll be stationed for the journey. He tips his head to talk to the viking in the skull mask, his attention off of you as quickly as it had found you. Mactavish catches you staring and sighs.

“He’s just nervous about ya runnin’.”

“As if you wouldn’t strike me down before I left camp,” You mumble, your eyes following the trails of axes and swords where they sit on the hips of the men loading the ship. Mactavish winces. You don’t see how it could mean much to him, you’re just extra cargo, another mouth to feed that shouldn’t be there in the first place.

“Ah wouldnae,” Mactavish tries, you push past him. You’re uninterested in empty promises, in words that have the same substance to them as the air they whisper through. He would, he just needs to be given the order and your life is forfeit. Wants disappear when viking’s greed is on the line.

“It doesn’t matter,” You tell him, you’re already stolen, you’ve nothing to return to, what reason could you have for running? You’re the only woman on the ship, and for who knows how long. That’s reason enough to run. There’s space to run on land, but at sea? You pause, frown at the rocky beach below your feet. You’d be better served dead than passed between oars.

The fears of women, you have no sane way of voicing them to your captor. Mactavish hands you a bag, the contents of it shift with strange shapes as you find your hold. It’s smokey, smelling of meat and brine. It grounds you a little. You clear the anxiety from your mind and glance out over the sea, trying to find the other side the way you used to when you were small.

You’re reminded almost immediately that Mactavish owns you as the longboat pushes off the shore. You’re caged between the wall of the ship and your least favorite viking, his words bouncing around your head as he directs men to row. “My catch,” “my watch,” “prey.” He calls you that again in a hushed tone,

“Dae ya get sea sick, Vaenn?”

You ignore him, turn your head to rest it against the wooden wall of the ship. There’s little for you to do on the ship but wait. You patch a few blisters on the youngest vikings, and tend to the fever that’s brought on by a night of rain. Mostly you find yourself with Mactavish pressed to your side. Big and warm, sturdy when you try to push him off. His eyes are stormy each time you look at him, the clouds parting when he turns to meet your stare.

He pulls on smiles like an old pair of shoes. They’re well worn, practiced to his face, but they never reach his eyes. You wonder what he must be thinking. You try to drown out that curiosity with a different one. What are you meant to do when you get to shore?

Four days of sailing and the only thing you’ve come up with is: doctor. You suppose there must be more vikings, more warriors returning from different pillages, that need patching up. You can’t imagine what that must look like, a whole village of brutes. You wonder if they kidnap all their women, or if you’re a special case.

Exhaustion weighs on you. The rocking of the boat, the unease in your stomach around sleeping with so many strangers nearby, you find little rest and in the short grabs of it you jerk awake to the heat of fire. Your grief has started to numb you, or perhaps that’s the ocean’s chill. Mactavish fixes his fur around your shoulders more tightly, checks the heat of you with a cool hand against your cheek. You wonder if he even has the capacity to worry for others. A man that would turn away from the screams of an entire village is a man that holds no one but himself in his heart. You turn away from him more often than not, feel the frustrated curl of his fingers before they’re dropped in a fist to his lap.

You can see it every time you close your eyes, so you don’t. You can hear your own sobs ripping from your chest, can feel the strength of Mactavish’s arm around you, in your dreams. You don’t sleep. What’s lost can never be regained, and now you slip further from it. Your skin is cold and your stomach churns with the waves. You tuck your resentment close to your chest, and nurse it with bitterness.

You’re not going home. You don’t have one of those anymore.

You’re startled awake by a familiar melody, words you know from your mother’s tongue. You mutter her name, still addled by sleep, and split your eyes open. Mactavish is studying his hands beside you, digging his short nails into the calluses at the base of his fingers. His voice is low, but the tune carries. The usually noisy ship seems to hold its silence. In the dim grey light of dawn you wonder if it’s just the two of you awake.

The only two souls alive that carry the land’s proper tongue.

And yet he mutters it, the words of the lullaby said under his breath, breathed through the chopped melody that leaves his lips. He doesn’t even seem to pay attention to it, his eyes focused on his hand’s work more than the tune. You listen to the sharp pick of skin, nearly louder than the familiar tune, and try not to move.

“-found the trial o’ mountain mist, but ne’er a trace of baby o,” He hums, his lips twitching with pain as he digs his nail too deep. Mactavish looks up towards the bow of the ship and you follow his eyes as best you can, watching Gaz and the Captain speaking in quiet tones.

Gaz holds a telescope to his eye, nodding and directing course when he brings it down. The air waits for them. There’s a near silent beating of wings, and the captain holds out his arm for a black bird to perch on. He strokes its beak with a finger, the creature clicking pleasantly before it alights again, back the way it came.

Your heart pounds in your chest. The threat of land never closer than it is when the Captain turns to the ship and announces,

“We’ll be sleeping in beds tonight, lads.”

Mactavish smiles to himself, his head bowed, while the rest of the crew cheers. You don’t share their excitement.

The port you dock in is nothing like you expected. Mactavish offers you a hand to help you off the ship, and though you reach for it instinctually, you ultimately spurn the gesture. You’d rather make a fool of yourself tripping over your skirts than take help from that man. Again you see his fist clench, dropped heavily to his side as he stares at the space you used to occupy. The skull faced viking directs the unloading of cargo, barking orders to the others while you look out at the town.

It’s not what you thought it would be. There’s no dismal hopelessness to the buildings that dot the grassy landscape. Women and children move between the houses without fear, and market stalls exchange their goods for coin under colorful banners. In the distance you can see sheep grazing, men fish along the shore, farms and gardens dot the landscape. The dirt path that winds around town works its way inward, all roads leading to the center, a longhouse built up on a hill. It reminds you too much of your own home. Bigger perhaps, but twisting the knife in your heart as clearly as your mother’s face might.

A viking carrying a heavy crate bumps you from your observation, and your arm is caught by another. You give a shout of surprise, looking around for Mactavish and finding the Captain instead. He all but drags you along the dock, his grip firm and unyielding even when you struggle against it. You’re deposited in front of a woman. There's darkness under her eyes, runes in coal over her cheeks, and bone woven into her red hair. She smiles at you warmly, and you jerk back away from her.

There’s something unnerving in her smile, in her movements.

Her brows draw together, concern coloring her expression. The black bird that you’d seen greeting the ship rests on the staff she’s holding, its beak clicks curiously at you. You ignore it. Birds like that are only good for eating.

“One Læknir,” The Captain presents you, he says something else, a word you don’t understand that makes the woman laugh. She looks more alive when she laughs.

“You are-” She seems to struggle for the word, your language ill-suited to her tongue, she asks the Captain something uses that same word “Læknir” and he responds with his correction:

“Healer.”

“Healer,” The woman finishes, you glance at the captain and give a small nod. She speaks to the captain again, speaks past you, you try not to take offense. You’re starting to get the feeling this woman isn’t used to people let alone talking to them.

“Need a translator?” Mactavish’s voice jolts you from your thoughts, too close beside your ear. He grins when you glare at him. The woman seems almost relieved to see him. She speaks to him now, and you hear him say it again:

“My catch, Völva, I’ll watch ‘em.” His eyes dart to you as you bristle. The woman, the Völva (you heard him use that word before, you file it as a proper noun, a title maybe), glances at you as well.

“You stay with -” She says a word and you frown.

“Soap,” Mactavish fills in, leaning to murmur it by your ear.

“Soap,” You confirm, “I’m staying with the lye.”

“You’re stayin’ with Mactavish,” The Captain tells you, no hint of amusement in his tone, it startles you still to hear your own tongue so proudly fallen from his lips.

“Not a proper name,” You grumble.

“Needed a bath when we caught ‘im.” The Captain sniffs, “If he’s smart he’ll give you one too.” You stiffen, any humor you may have found in the nickname lost with those words. You don’t look at Mactavish, at Soap. You keep your eyes on the Völva. She must understand that they can’t force you into lodgings with a man. She tips her head, smile blank. You can’t hold her gaze for long.

“You wanted responsibility,” The Captain pushes you towards Mactavish, “there it is, your catch, your watch.”

You suppose it makes sense, you stay with the person that caught you, but it still drops like a rock in your stomach. Mactavish may speak your language, but as far as you’re concerned he’s a viking through and through. You’re not safe with him, not safe in this village. Mactavish settles his hand on the small of your back, and leans close for a third time, his voice is softer but still rings like a death knell.

“Let’s go Vaenn,” He must take your hesitance for exhaustion because he adds, “it’s nae far, then ya can rest.”

You very much doubt that.

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bericas · 1 month

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isaac & scott / mason & theo | sometimes all i think about is you

#twedit #twvid #scisaac #mason x theo #twrarepair #back on my scisaac masontheo parallel bullshit btw #back on my masontheo is just scisaac if they were True enemies to lovers bullshit. btw. if anyone was wondering.#like of course scisaac and masontheo get paintaking scenes. its enemies to lovers. ofc mason calls theo a bitch its FULL enemies to lovers #for clarity the hands at the rave and the masontheo hug r parallels to ME bc its touch with an excuse for it #scisaac can brush hands when theyre holding a needle between them and theo can hug mason when its a means to an end #the rest i feel r fairly straightforward but i wanted to share the vision for that one #mason hewitt #theo raeken #scott mccall #isaac lahey #tw #oh also the last shot is the last shot of isaac and theo respectively. if that wasnt clear.#like how isaac and theo both nebulously sort of Gone from beacon hills #and the theo shot also to me looks like footage from The masontheo ep 618. btw. which just brings me joy #actually i have more to say. hi. masontheo r just so.#you know how isaac kind of has. he has the awkward tenderness of someone who has never been loved and is forced to improvise #theo doesnt even have THAT!!!! scott holds out a hand and isaac takes it with an awkward fervor #mason keeps his hands to himself because he doesn't trust what theo might do with it and theo can only help when its helping himself #bc the tenderness will be TOO AWKWARD. so isaac says he wont leave without scott and theo says we need to find him so i cant leave you #so isaac grabs scott because scott makes him feel safe and theo can only grab mason when its part of a script bc thats how he feels safe #HELLO. IS THIS THING ON. DO U GUYS HEAR ME. SCISAAC IF THEY WERE TRUE ENEMIES TO LOVERS!!!!

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minnesota-fats · 1 year

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DeadSerious AU where Danny and Damien become friends, even after their rocky start where Damien threatened Danny’s life (laughable for someone who is already dead) because Danny looked like someone he knew when he was younger who disappeared without warning. Danny is just confused when this kid at his new school comes up to him and starts shouting at him in Arabic.

This can be a runaway Danny au or Jazz taking Danny and movie to Gotham after their folks found out and reacted badly au or even a supportive Fenton parents au. Either way, Danny is school friends with Damien.

Anyway, at first Damien finds Danny annoying but as time goes on Danny starts to develop feelings for Damien and thus starts to act differently. Damien can’t help but recognize this and be reminded of the person who helped guide him during his time in the league and made sure he survived the harsh reality of being raised by assassins. Someone who he convinced himself was only an imaginary friend until Danny started going to his school in Gotham.

One day Danny gets a visit from Clockwork, who sends him on a mission to guide and protect the heir of the demon head, to make sure he survives his harsh upbringing by being his imaginary friend. When asked why, clockwork just tells him that “the heir of the demon head is an important figure in the future that—just like yourself, connect the land of the living and the Infinite Realms.”

Danny doesn’t know what he is expecting, but a baby Damien isn’t one of them. Danny pops in through Damien’s childhood both in ghost and human form. At first Danny only tries to appear in just ghost form but after something bad happened to Damien and his green eyes scared him a little too much Danny breaks down and turns human. Eventually Danny has to go back to his own timeline and now knows why Damien acted the way he did when they first met.

Danny gets home and has a heart to heart with Damien where everything is revealed: from Danny now knowing a lot about Damian’s past (including that he is “the son of the bat”) to Damian saying he knew Danny was a ghost the whole time. As well as their feelings for each other.

Meanwhile clockwork is watching with a smile knowing exactly what he did!

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punching-pentagrams · 1 month

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Talk to Me

Chapter 4

Lucifer x Fem Fallen Angel Reader Word Count: 5.1k CW: Angst, trauma, trust building, slow burn, enemies to lovers(ish?), lies, curiosity Guess who is finally gonna talk to each otherrrr?

|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5 (Updated through Chapter 5)

As happy as you were to be back at the nice new hotel, with nice new rooms, and nice new… friends(?), that didn’t mean that there was still a lot that you were trying to get used to. A lot that still felt overwhelming.

You had gone to sleep that night feeling ready to take on getting to know the others in the hotel, even briefly said hi to a couple of them, Angel, Husk, Cherri, and Niffty. But the next morning you woke up in a panicked cold sweat, and the tightened feeling in your chest about being around sinners.

You stayed into your room for a couple days, only sneaking out to get food.

You spent much of that time moving between freaking out and trying to figure out what to do to help other sinners. You just wish you had someone to talk it out with.

As if to a sort of answer to your prayers, Charlie knocked on your door. You slowly opened the door before giving her a panicked hug. She held you close and stroked your hair.

“Charlie, I’m so sorry I have not left my room… I’ve been meaning… trying to… but… I’m still so overwhelmed… I know that no one here will cause me harm… but I can’t help but think…”

Charlie shushed you as she held you, “Hey, it’s ok. I’m not upset, don’t worry. I know that I am wanting to encourage you but also not push you too far… I’ve made that mistake before… what do you feel like you need from me?” You thought, you’d never been asked that before. You think you would usually be the one asking Emily that in the past.

“Well… talking helps…”

Charlie smiled and moved further into the room with you, closing the door, sat on your bed and patted next to her “Tell me what is on your mind.”

You went to go sit by her and sighed, “I… I don’t know… I guess the first thing is… other sinners scare me… I don’t know what to do.”

Charlie thought, “Well… other sinners can be scary, but they can also be nice too. You never know what it is that made someone come to hell. I’ve always had the thought that sinners might not always be bad people.”

You gave Charlie a confused look.

Charlie thought again, “Ok uhh… let’s take Angel Dust for example. He’s a porn star. Why do you think he became a porn star?”

You shrugged, “Because he was a pornstar on Earth?”

Charlie shook her head, “Not the case actually. What would you say if you knew he grew up on Earth in the Mafia, with no way to escape, and spent most of his energy protecting his little sister?”

“That’s… huh…well being in the Mafia is bad… but if he was trapped in it… and he was protecting his sister… then that’s good…”

“He also is protective of others here at the hotel,” Charlie added, “He is almost like an older brother to Niffty.”

You thought for a minute about this, “But… how did he end up here… as a porn star?”

Charlie shrugged, “Lots of people end up here and get pulled into the… errr rough culture of Hell. Somehow he found his way to Valentino, the Overlord of the Porn Industry, and they made a contract.”

“And the cycle continues all over again,” you realize.

“Exactly,” Charlie added.

“And he is back repeating the same mistakes, because that’s what he needed to do to survive on earth,” you perk up more.

“Yes,” Charlie adds with more excitement.

“And… if he is becoming more good at the hotel… or doing more good things… it’s because…”

“Because he has a community to help him learn that there is more outside of that place of survival. That he can have support that isn’t abusive. Support that is kind and helps him find what he wants without being evil.” Charlie added.

You felt like your brain exploded. People weren’t just bad to be bad, some people were bad because of the community around them. Your heart broke.

“Some people on earth…” you start to choke on some tears, looking at Charlie “Some people on earth… had no chance of being good in their lifetime, did they? Not because they didn’t want to, but because they did not know how? Because they were not in a life where they were able to be around good people? They were trying to be the best they could in a bad environment?”

Charlie nodded, “Exactly.”

Tears streamed down your face, his realization made you so sad and so angry. So it was not just that people chose to be good or bad? Was there a gray area in the middle?

Charlie rubbed your back as you cried. She was… surprised by your response. She would hoped it would click, but something about this made you so upset. Questioning things? She was intrigued at the thought that this was not something that was understood by all sinners, but she guessed that everyone was different in their understanding. Everyone on earth experienced such vastly different things, it was hard to consider any sort of “standard” to the human experience.

Your tears soon settled, and you continued to look onto the floor, “I want to understand more… I want to.. to hear people’s experiences more… see more of this in action. But how would I do that?”

Charlie thought, “You could… just offer people a space to talk! Like… just saying you will be there to listen? Maybe talk them through some ideas if they want that?”

You thought and nodded, “Ya… that might work, but how would I get people to want to talk to me?”

Charlie stood up and started to pace around the room as she thought, “Well… I could encourage it as part of the hotel curriculum. Maybe they can get out of other activities occasional if they talk with you. Ultimately, them talking to you would need to be for their benefit though. Not just for you learning… Hmm…” Charlie continued to pace.

“Well… I think I would have to promise not to share anything outside of that conversation with anyone,” you added.

“Right! Hmm… we might want to be careful with that though,” Charlie said, “I don’t want anyone to abuse that. Like say if someone told you about something where they want to harm someone else or the hotel? I think you wouldn’t be able to keep that secret.”

“Oh ya, good point,” that though made you a little nervous, but you had to be prepared for anything, “I would just have to tell people the rules at the beginning.”

“That sounds good.”

“Ok… I can work with that… I think I with want to brainstorm for a little while more before starting anything.”

“Totally!” Charlie perked, “It sounds like an amazing idea that we can run the idea past the others. But for this to work, it would help if you started to come out and interact with them some more, what do you say?” Charlie held out a hand.

You looked at her hand and smiled, you knew she was right. You took her hand and followed her downstairs.

You took the rest of the evening and the next few days getting to know Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Niffty, Cherri, and Alastor more. Though Alastor didn’t share much about himself other than the general vibe that he was powerful and scary. But overall the others did not make you feel bad about needing some time to get used to Hell, many of them had died a long time ago but they all remembered it being hard, even though they all varied in how much they accepted their placement in Hell.

Several days later, Charlie brought up the idea of your “Talk Time” with the other members of the hotel, and they were given time to talk through their worries or concerns.

“How do you know you ain’t gonna move to conversation to what you want? How do you know you ain’t gonna judge us?” Angel asked.

“Hmm… everything in that room is about you and your story. I want to learn more and support you guys. And if you ever do feel that way, you can tell me. I’m not forcing anyone to be there, I’m there if you want to talk some someone,” you responded, “Anything you tell me, I’m gonna do everything I can to meet it with curiously, not judgement. I’m not gonna be perfect, but I wanna try.”

“How do you know you are actually going to keep our secrets? What stops you from just blabbing them to all of Hell?” Husk asked.

You thought about that, and you looked at Charlie and Vaggie. You knew there was a certain type of silence spell that was sometimes used in Heaven, mostly for people on themselves so that they would not accidental spill secrets. It’s a spell that Adam should have used when it came to the exterminations, but his pride got in the way and he didn’t. You were curious if either of them had magic like that.

“Do either of you have magic that can cause a sort of silencing spell? One that could force me to not be able to talk about certain things?”

Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other and thought. Alastor in the corner of the room gripped his cane, thinking of the magic threads that kept his own secrets locked away.

Vaggie thought of the same angelic seal that you had, she found it cruel though, but she understood the reason here. Part of her was curious about how you had thought of that so quickly, but now was not the time to dive into that.

“I do”, she said “It binds you to keeping secrets within specified parameters, like if it were to be like “You are are bound to keep the secrets of Charolette Morningstar, so long as keeping the secret would not cause harm to others.”” Or something.”

You nodded, that sounded right, “Can we try it so everyone can see?”

Vaggie nodded and began the spell, saying it the same thing she had said before, then she prompted Charlie to tell you a small secret. Charlie came up and in your ear whispered “I accidentally used Vaggie’s toothbrush one time before we were officially dating and I’ve never told her and I feel really bad about it.” You wanted to laugh because it was such an innocent secret, but your face remained neutral.

You turned to the group and attempted to say the secret but all that happened was your lips sealed shut and a red X marked over your mouth, silencing you for a moment before disappearing. You tried it again, and the red X appeared. You looked out to the group.

“Any further questions or concerns?” You ask the group.

“Will that happen for anything we tell you?” Niffty added.

Vaggie answered, “I can set it just so it happens involving information said when you are in her room, this will also incentivize you all to only talk to her about heavy stuff during times you meet with her, so that you aren’t just randomly coming up to her. Got it?”

The rest of the group nodded.

“How long will we have to talk to ya for?” Angel asked.

You shrugged, “As long as you like I guess, but I might have to cap it at some point. We will workshop it and see how it goes. I’m gonna start offering it a couple days a week and then I’ll increase time as I feel ready for it.”

That seemed to be the end of the questions for now. There was always room for more questions.

You started your open office hours the next day, your door was open and you were just hanging out in your room. No one came in for most of the day, but closer to the end of the day, Angel came walking in.

“Hey,” Angel said in the doorway.

“Hey! You wanna come chat?” You ask.

“Not really, but yes… but Husk said it might be a good idea, let’s get Vaggie going with that silence spell though,” Angel added. You called for Vaggie, she set the spell, and then you and Angel were alone to talk.

Angel sat in silence for a few minutes, thinking. He sighed, “I talk ‘bout my shit all the time but I don’t know where ta even start ‘ere” he buries his face in his hands.

You thought a moment, “How about today? Is there something that is bothering you today? You said Husk told you to come up here.”

Angel sighed, “Alright, buckle in toots.” Angel started by telling you about his boss, Valentino, being an absolute monster to him. You asked some questions and Angel went back into the details of how he ended up on the end of Val’s chain. How he had arrived to Hell much like you did, scared and alone, although he figured some of his family was down here, but he didn’t want much to do with them. There was no hotel then, and all he knew was finding someone in power to protect him.

He got a job in Val’s company since he knew sex and acting were things he could do, and he quickly gained the favor of Val. But Val didn’t just like him, he was obsessed with him, Angel had to live with him and be on call basically 24/7 for shoots and for Val personally. Protection didn’t matter if it wasn’t protecting him from the biggest threat in his life, which had become Val himself. But he was trapped, he learned about the hotel and got set up over here. The hotel was the only remotely safe place he had now and he was thankful for that. He then went quiet.

“I understan-“ you started to say.

“No! No you don’t! No one does. Don’t hit me with that crap, I get it all the time,” Angel snarked as he crossed his arms.

You wanted to snap at him but you took a breath, remembering this isn’t about you, that’s probably his pain.

“You’re right,” you said. He looked up at you with surprise and confusion, “You’re totally right, I’m sorry, I don’t… I guess I mean… I see your pain, I hear your suffering… I see you Angel. You just wanna be safe.”

He stared at you a moment and nodded “Ya.”

“And you want to have people around you that will want to protect you?”

He nodded again, his arms going more slack, “Ya.”

“And if you took part in the battle with Heaven, I’m gonna guess you have found that here, and you wanna protect them, too. Right?”

He nods, fighting the tears that welled in his eyes, “Heh… I’m glad you got that silence spell, wouldn’t want everyone to know how mushy I am.”

You shrugged “I think many of them would appreciate it, but that is up to you.”

Angel smiled “So uhh… let me know when ya office is open again. Kay? This… didn’t completely suck.”

You smiled, and walked him to the door. Once he left you closed the door and sighed, that was a lot, but it was good. You didn’t have long before there was a knock on your door.

You opened the door to see a short young man with short slicked back blond hair, a sharp smile, and button up and a suit vest, there were red dots on his checks like Charlie, did she have a brother?

“Hiya! Haha, I apologize for the intrusion, I hope I didn’t startle you. I was in the neighbor and came to say hi to Charlie and she said you were taking times for people to come and just chat with you so I thought I would came say hi!”

“Oh! Well wonderful, and… you are?” You asked.

“I’m sorry, weird are my manners, I’m Lucifer!” he said sticking out a hand.

You were suddenly full of fear and took a step back, “Lucifer…” You felt yourself trip and start to fall backwards. You anticipate hitting the floor but you stop just short as Lucifer catches you, a worried look on his face. Time feels like it slows for a second as he holds you up and you look at each other. He quickly sets you down and takes a step back.

“I’m so sorry… I really didn’t mean to scare you… I promise I just wanted to come say hi. Connect the face to the name. (Y/fn), right? Charlie mentioned you. And I wanted to give you this!” He pulls out a simple rubber duck.

You were just looking him up and down, trying to make sense of the image in front of you, and then the rubber duck. This soft and small person was the terrifying Lucifer? Why did he have a rubber duck?

“Yes that’s me. Wait. You are Lucifer?” You asked.

Lucifer nodded, “The one and only!”

You blinked and thought more, “But… you’re not scary? Do you make yourself not look scary?”

Lucifer looked at himself and chuckled “No this is how I normally look, I actually have to try to make myself look scary.”

“So you can be scary?”

Lucifer shrugged, “Yes, but I don’t like to. I’m guessing they still draw me as big and muscular with horns and fire and all of that on Earth?”

You thought back to the few depictions you had seen of Lucifer around Heaven, each one a more terrifying depiction from the last, and you made a face. “You could say that, lots of goat and snake like monsters.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes, “Eh. Of course. I can look like elements of that, but half the time I swear they are just drawing Satan and slapping my name on him. He’s like a big goat man, Sin or Wrath. He runs the Wrath ring downstairs.” He set down the rubber duck on the table next to the door. “Anyways, I just wanted to thank you for joining Charlie’s hotel. We weren’t sure we were going to get more after the extermination news. How did you find us?”

Damn you needed a good excuse, what was the one you had told Charlie the other day? You started to stand back up as you responded. “I uhh… heard something about it from the group of sinners that… beat me up. Not in a positive way but I thought I would check it out. I’m glad I did, Charlie has been so kind to me.”

Lucifer frowned, “I’m sorry to hear about your attack but I’m glad that you have found comfort with my daughter. She has such a gentle heart.” He smiled as he thought about his daughter.

You watched his eyes shine as he talked about her. Seriously, who was this guy? This gentle and kind person was the most hated being in all of creation? This was the man whose name was akin to a cursed word in the heavens. The longer you were here, the less sense things were making, and the more angry it made you.

Lucifer looked at you and noticed the grimace on your face, “Uhh… everything ok?”

You snapped back to the present and realized how twisted in frustration your face was. “Uhh… ya! I just… still have some pain I’m dealing with. Nothing to worry about.”

Lucifer looked at the light wrap on your arm and opposing leg, no longer full casts but a little wrap, “May I take a look?”

You hesitated, and he sensed it. “I wouldn’t hurt you. Some angels just have healing powers, I just want to see if your bones settled the right way.”

You paused, and then offered your arm “No cuts please.”

Lucifer nodded, “No cuts.” He walked forward and took your forearm in both hands and closed his eyes, focusing in on your bones. He could sense that this one was healing correctly, but he let out some power and finished up the healing process.

You were so nervous to be this close to him, but something about his soft touch was so disarming. He was warm and gentle. The light startled you, but then a wave of relief came over your arm. His hands slipped away and you tried moving it. It was good as new! You beamed a smile looking at it.

Lucifer smiled seeing you ease up a little around him. “Want me to do your leg next?” You looked at him and nodded.

You sat on the bed, and he knelt down to take your lower leg in his hands, closing his eyes again. This time you looked more over his features as he turned into your injury, your curiosity over him was just eating at you. And even more so… they did he almost feel familiar?

“Hmm,” he hummed. “Were you walking on this injury?”

“Uhh… ya, why?” You responded. “Why? Is something wrong?”

He looked up at you, “The bones are not healing correctly in line, that is probably what is causing more pain here.”

“That’s not good… is there a way to fix it?”

“There is… but I would have to separate the bones again to be able to heal them back in the right place. You wouldn’t feel pain but it’s not pleasant. It will feel better after that though,” he said looking into your eyes.

You grabbed at your shoulder, remembering the break of your wing. You swallowed hard, could you trust the devil?

You nodded.

He nodded, set his hands in place, and prepared you, his magic beginning to glow again. Before you knew it, there was a quick pop and then a cooling sensation of healing again. You both exhaled and then smiled at each other.

You stood up and tested your leg, you could put your weight on it without pain again! You spun around and smiled.

Lucifer smiled again, warmth filling his heart as we felt like he was actually able to do something nice for you. Filling some sense of an unpaid debt of some kind.

“I’m glad you are feeling better, anything else? I noticed you grabbed your shoulder, I could-“

“No!” You stopped your dance and held your shoulder away. Lucifer pulled back with a look of worry on his face.

“I mean… I’m sorry, it’s nothing. An old injury from… my old life. Nothing something that is actually there. Just something I think of,” you looked over the worry and pain on his face. “Shit… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell…”

“No it’s ok, haha, I get it, old pains from a past life and all…” Lucifer thought off, thinking of the fall.

You looked over his face again, there was something so deep about his pain, it intrigued you. It was funny how little you had known about pain as a concept just a month ago, but now, your hunger for learning about it was unmatched. You couldn’t understand what made people actually good until you realized that also made them bad, and pain and suffering seems to be a big factor. Looking at the harbinger of pain and suffering himself, it made you so curious as to what started it all.

“Hey,” you said, Lucifer looked up at you. “My… my talk times are available for everyone at the hotel, so… that includes you. If you ever want to talk about things that have happened to you… my door is open. Just… maybe not today. My last appointment was uhh… a lot. With-“ you tried to say Angel’s name but your mouth sealed shut and a red X appeared over your mouth.

Lucifer was startled by the angelic red X that he remembers seeing on the elders sometimes in the past. After a moment the X disappeared

“Sorry, silence spell. I forgot I can’t even say the name of who I last talked to. Vaggie helped me set it up,” you rubbed your mouth, that feeling was not pleasant.

“Oh interesting, so you have parameters set to not share what people let you during the talk time?” Lucifer asked. You nodded. He thought and then smiled.

“Alright, I’ll come talk to you. I’ll see you in a few days then.” He gave you a wink and then wished you goodbye before teleporting downstairs to grab his hat and coat, and saying goodbye to the others before teleporting back home.

You sighed and flopped on your bed after Lucifer left. You had met the King of Hell and lived to tell the tale. He was so unlike anything you expected. You were still a little wary of him, but the way you didn’t sense a single bit of malice or trickery about him. Just… kindness and…sadness… lots of sadness… He felt so much like Charlie, but also… not.

You thought again to the look in his eyes, the gentle way he talked about healed you, especially your leg, he could have just snapped it and healed it, but he took the time to talk you through it. You actually thought to keep that in might when talking to people, you could probably approach conversations like that.

But beyond that, he, like his daughter, respected when you said no to him looking at your shoulder. He wasn’t just searching to make you “perfect” he wanted you to have a say in things. That felt so unusual, that was something you had very little of in Heaven.

Then there was the biggest part that bothered you. Why did he feel familiar? Vaggie you could understand, she could have been a face in the crowd of Heaven that you just didn’t pick up on and she slipped your memory in the years since she was kicked from the service of Heaven. But how could Lucifer feel familiar? He fell before you were created. Had you met at another point still?

You remembered the day you came into being, your eyes opening and Sera welcoming you, explaining your role, and being introduced to Emily.

Emily… your heart hurt to think of her, your closest… friend. Tears welled up in your eyes. How you missed her. You wished she was ok. You wondering if she thought of you. If she still suffered. Or if she had just forgotten you at this point and moved on.

You shook your head, no, Emily was not like that, she wouldn’t forget you after almost 10,000 years of friendship.

You sighed and rolled onto your side, your eyes caught sight of the rubber duck Lucifer had left. You smiled. What a curious thing, and what a curious man. You floated the duck over to you and looked at it as you laid there. You realized you never thanked him for the gift. How rude of you. You would have to remedy that next time you talked with him. You smiled at the thought as you drifted to sleep.

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

Lucifer returned home and flopped on his bed again, a swirl of emotions mixed up in his stomach. On the one hand he was grateful for another pleasant visit to the hotel, and a chance to meet and interact with you. On the other… there were some things he just couldn’t wrap his head around.

On the more positive end, he was glad the you seemed like a kind sinner, which also confused him, because kind and sinner should not mix, but he also didn’t even know what the threshold was for people ending up here anyway. He knew from getting to know the other sinners at that hotel that some people just had a rough exterior, but you didn’t even seem to have that. Your biggest thing seemed to be that you were very afraid of him.

He had hoped that by the end of your conversation he had put you a little more at ease. He thought that maybe you had grown up in a cult or something, that would explain many of the behaviors. Growing up with an idea of a deity that should be feared above all else or else the “monstrous devil” would steal their soul.

Pfft. As if. He had better things to do than deal in the trading of mortal souls.

Anyways, ya that was probably the case. He was just glad that you were feeling better about your limbs and you offering some of your time to talk with him. He almost found it amusing to think about talking to a mortal about his problems. As if they could even comprehend it. But it would be nice to talk to some things outside of Charlie and his rubber ducks, although the ducks were great listeners.

The things that bothered him about his visit were… interesting. The more simple part was your reaction to him looking at your shoulder. He understood the idea of an old injury but… that reaction didn’t pan out with an old one, but a new one. A traumatizing one. You hadn’t been here for long, so what could have happened to have caused such a reaction? One that you didn’t want touched or healed if it was as fresh as your other injuries? Or was it even fresher? Had a rogue exorcist gotten to you? There was no way of telling. Maybe once he had built up more trust with her, he would have more of a chance to get that question answered.

Then there was the bigger reason for his discomfort, why did you feel familiar to him, and why did you feel off to him? He had only recently started interacting with sinners and you were new to Hell, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe he had seen you in the past when he had taken a trip to Earth before with… ugh, maybe? That also seemed like a stretch. Maybe you just reminded him from someone, that was probably it. Someone from a long time ago maybe?

Curse this depression brain fog, it made trying to remember anything impossible. What was your name again? (Y/fn)? That didn’t ring any bells, so you must have just reminded him of someone, it was gonna drive him crazy.

Oh well, for now that would just have to remain a mystery for another day.

______________________________________________________________

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#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #fanfic #fanfic writing #lucifer x reader #fanfiction #angst #slow burn #sort of enemies to lovers #punching pentagrams

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kissablelips-desireslure-vol1 · 1 month

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WE BEST LOVE (2021)

SAM LIN (as Shi De)

MURUYAMA YUSUKE aka YU (as Shu Yi)

@pose4photoml @lutawolf @absolutebl

#THE KISSING CHRONICLES 1 #BL EDITION #MY ALL TIME FAVORITE TAIWANESE BL #WE BEST LOVE: NO. 1 FOR YOU #FEELINGS REVEALED AND RETURNED #ENEMIES TO LOVERS #A GREAT KISS (IMO)#My GIFS #(FROM MY PRIMARY BLOG: BL-BAM-BEYOND)#A REPOST OF SORTS #MYGIFSET #MY-GIF-EDIT #BL-BAM-BEYOND FAMILY OF BLOGS

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sp0o0kylights · 9 months

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PSEUDO DADS WAYNE AND HOPPER/BEAT TO SHIT STEVE HARRINGTON A03 LINK

S3 AU wherein Hopper calls in a favor and Wayne ends up hiding a beaten and battered Steve Harrington in his house.

Eddie's not happy about it.

SEPERATE POST FOR ANYONE WHO JUST WANTS THE A03 LINK

First chapter has all three parts together.

#steddie #pre steddie #Wayne as a BAMF #wayne and hopper are psuedo parents to Steve #s3 Starcourt AU #the blue collar workers of the town know some shits up #beat to shit steve harrington #protective wayne munson #protective jim hopper #eventual #protective Eddie Munson #and of course Steve who cant figure out why these people care so much #hurt/comfort #sort of #enemies to lovers #stranger things #0o0 fanfics #stranger things fanfic

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dreamlandcreations · 5 months

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Imagine getting into a drinking game with Shanks...

Imagine getting into a drinking game with Shanks.

You can't even remember exactly what you said when you practically dared him into the first challenge. It was his fault anyway. How could you not react to all that relentless teasing?

That was a few hours, plenty of drinks and a lot less on the stakes before but you would be damned if you'd lose to that annoyingly charming, smug-looking redheaded menace.

#enemies to lovers #sort of #or maybe #enemies to friends to lovers #opla shanks #opla shanks x reader #shanks opla #shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks #red haired shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks imagine #my stuff #my fics

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thoodleoo · 1 year

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funniest happening in the entire trojan war cycle to me is in the little iliad when diomedes and odysseus steal the palladium from troy and odysseus attempts to kill diomedes so he can get all the glory, only for diomedes to catch him in the act and beat the shit out of him and then later decide to spare him afterwards. they are literally that "me and the besties" meme

#tagamemnon #the iliad (sort of)#theyre so funny to me. lovers to enemies to lovers who are enemies #queueusque tandem abutere catilina patientia nostra

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steddieas-shegoes · 11 months

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sort of a fantasy/ angst scenario i’ve been thinking about… (I love your writing so much - maybe this is something?)

When Steve goes through a misunderstanding and breakup that has him socially exiled, everyone is mad, and feels justified when he disappears - they assume the worst of him and that he just up and left without telling anyone.

Years later - on the tail end of a series of unexplained natural disasters around the world stopping miraculously, he shows up - surrounded by a small group of people with a similar haunted look in their eyes and littered with more scars, maybe a hand that too metallic to be real.

Aka Steve is visited by a group of strangers, claiming he’s some sort of prodigal son of a Prophecy - disappears to end the apocalypse and shows up, years and a full hero's journey later, changed - and the others have the grapple with the fact that they’ve been wrong the entire time.

Or bonus - he never ends up showing up at all - a stranger shows up at their door during a party family gathering, battleworn, letter in hand about a burial taking place at the edge of town at dusk.

This was an INSANELY GOOD request. Like this could easily be a 100k fic, so I hope you're okay with me having very little backstory. I want someone to run with this ASAP. I didn't do the bonus part, but I stuck with a lot of the first part of it. Again, this was so hard to keep short, so I do hope someone makes this AU really deep and really solid. I don't know if you took ideas from a bunch of different fantasy novels or what but man this is gooooood shit. I hope I was able to do at least some of this justice! - Mickala ❤️

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

Steve Harrington did not give up. He didn’t. He couldn’t.

Which is why he was leading his battleworn group back home.

It’s been years since he stepped foot in Hawkins, years of war, disaster, and pain. But walking through the gates of Hawkins was the scariest and bravest thing he’d done in five years.

Dustin limped along next to him, his leg hurt, but not broken. Max was on his other side, left eye blind and left arm broken, but in good spirits overall.

Lucas and Erica fell behind him, both physically fine, but mourning the loss of their parents in the latest earthquake.

Steve had given them an extra day before making the journey back, made sure they had a way to lay their parents to rest despite the chaos surrounding them.

Robin had gone ahead of them to announce his entrance, wanted to make sure that the town was prepared.

When Steve left five years ago, the only people who knew were the people currently with him. They followed him, without question, the moment he said he had to go. They were children when they left, could barely offer anything but their support at first, but over the years grew into the type of soldiers anyone would be lucky to have on their side.

He broke Nancy's heart, he broke his promise to his parents to stay in Hawkins until he turned 21, and the world broke around him.

He made a choice that day, a difficult one, but one he hoped gained him the respect of the people he left behind.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” Dustin asked quietly as they approached the outskirts of town.

“Could be better.”

“Could be worse,” Max added.

That was their answer to everything.

“Steve, wait!”

Robin was running towards them, nearly tripping and falling on her face every few steps. She had incredible aim when it came to shooting and throwing, but ask her to take more than five consecutive steps without tripping or otherwise hurting herself and you would be shit out of luck.

“What is it?”

“You have to wait. It’s bad. It’s real bad.”

She was out of breath, which was odd since she was in surprisingly good shape for someone who couldn’t run.

Steve looked past her, watching as a small group of people on horseback approached.

She turned to see them, then turned back around and let her head fall.

“Shit. Okay. So your parents are dead. Everyone who was ever in power before? Dead. Hopper? Dead.”

Hearing this should have been more upsetting, but Steve was used to losing people. He was used to losing nearly everyone. And to hear that his parents were gone was more a relief than anything else.

He could hear the people talking in the distance, could feel the ground shaking with the efforts of their horses.

There weren’t many, maybe only six or seven, but enough to keep Steve feeling a bit protective of his group.

They were tired. They’d been through enough.

He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to.

“Who are they?”

“Soldiers. Everyone that’s left are soldiers or farmers.”

“Steve Harrington! It’s been a while!”

He knew that voice. Not well, and obviously it’s been five years since he’s heard it, but he knew it.

Who was it?

“Interesting that you choose now to show your face again! We survived the worst of everything without you, I’m not sure why you expect us to welcome you with open arms.”

Eddie Munson.

Steve would know those long, curly locks anywhere.

Steve didn’t recognize anyone else with him, but that was probably for the best.

Eddie got up close to his group, but didn’t pull any weapons.

He didn’t want a fight either. Interesting.

Steve lost his hearing in his left ear nearly three years ago, at the same time he lost most of his left arm. He tried not to let it show as a weakness, especially to people who could be a threat, but he was having trouble hearing over the wind blowing.

“I’m sorry for coming somewhat unannounced. We ran out of supplies to write over a month ago, and money to send a messenger even further back.”

That wasn’t entirely true.

They had money. Not much, but enough to get by. Certainly enough for a messenger if needed. Steve just didn’t want them to know that, not if they were desperate for things like he suspected.

He wanted to help, not give away everything he had.

“If I let you in town, you’ll be dead by morning.”

“Why’s that?”

“Everyone blames you for everything. You left and we had a flash flood the next day that took out half our crops. A week later, half the town fell ill with an unknown plague that killed almost everyone who caught it. The earthquakes took what little we had left and that was before the looting from surrounding towns attacked us for months on end. You were nowhere to be found. Our “golden child” couldn’t bother to come help us. Forgive me for being hesitant to want you around now,” Eddie snarled.

Steve could see the way everyone behind him reacted to Eddie’s words, could feel the worry coming from his own group.

They didn’t deserve this.

“All I ask is you allow my soldiers here back to their families. I’ll be on my way by morning and won’t use any resources. Lucas and Erica lost their parents and will be staying with Dustin.”

Eddie looked them all over, frown on his face.

“Dustin? Henderson?”

“That’s me,” Dustin piped up, always braver than people expected him to be.

“Claudia’s son? She thought you died.”

Steve could hear the emotion in his voice, like he’d had to say that too often, like it was true too often.

“I almost did many times, but I’m here.”

“She’ll be pleased to see you,” Eddie said, though his voice sounded different, a bit more emotion behind the words. “And you?” He turned to Max.

“Only her mom is alive as far as we know,” Steve supplied the bare minimum.

They heard a lot of things, but didn’t know how old the news was by the time it reached them.

“Mayfield?” A man from behind Eddie asked. “I recognize the hair. Your mom’s been workin’ at the pub. Serves beer to the soldiers at the end of their shifts.”

“Sounds like her.”

Max wasn’t all that fond of her mom, never had been, but she still wanted to be reunited with her, even if only temporarily.

Steve had been telling the truth about only staying until everyone in his group had found their home. He knew even before coming that he didn’t want to go back to his own.

“Robin wishes to find work here, settle away from her own home. It’s not safe for her there. She’s a fantastic shot and knows many languages, could be useful as a soldier or a teacher,” Steve hadn’t let Robin know ahead of time that he didn’t plan on staying. She was under the impression before now that they would settle here together, maybe find wives and share a farm. “All I ask is that she gets a fresh start and is not associated with my name.”

“Why do you think you’re in any position to ask for favors?”

“I’m not. I realize that asking for any favors is asking too much. I’m just doing what I can to help the people who have helped me for years.”

Steve watched as Eddie considered, clearly taking into consideration the fact that everyone surrounding Steve had someone waiting for them in town, whether they knew it or not.

“You’ll all come with us. Including you, Steve. But you will stay with me for the night so that no harm comes to you. Many people in this town wish you dead.”

“Including you?”

“To be determined.”

Eddie turned on his horse, and the rest of his group followed.

Steve nudged everyone forward, hoping that by putting them first, he could avoid questions from them.

But that was easier said than done.

“You didn’t say you were only planning to stay one night!” Dustin whisper yelled.

“You were going to leave us?” Erica asked, arms crossed over her chest.

“What if something bad happened when you left?” Lucas added.

Robin was busy helping Max along the rocky path, but she kept sending glares at him over her shoulder.

“I knew I wouldn’t be welcome here. You all deserve to be here with your family and friends. I can find a new place.”

“What about us?”

He ignored the question.

They would be fine, and he would be…well, probably not fine, but alive.

They followed Eddie and his group in silence after that.

When they got closer to the main road, Eddie stopped and hopped off his horse.

“The guys will take the rest of you into town. Steve will need to sneak in. This is not up for discussion and if you don’t agree, you can leave.”

Steve gave everyone a look that said if they tried to argue, he would cut their arms off. He wouldn’t, but the look must have been convincing because no one said a thing.

“You all can come to my house tomorrow to say goodbye to Steve. The guys will tell you where it is. Do not come together and do not bring anything with you. Understood?”

Everyone nodded, giving Steve quick nods before they were led away.

“Hop up,” Eddie said from right in front of him.

When did he get that close?

“I’m sorry?”

“It’ll be less suspicious if you look like a guard. She’ll lead you to my home and I’ll walk a bit behind. If you run for it, we’ll find you.”

“I’m not dressed like a guard.”

“Everyone is off duty sometimes. But you’ll wear my cape to cover your clothes. You look like you lost a few fights.”

“I did.”

Eddie grimaced.

“I think we all have.”

Steve didn’t push, didn’t want to test how far Eddie’s patience and kindness would go.

He hopped up onto Eddie’s horse, settling into the saddle quickly.

Eddie didn’t give him much of a chance to get acquainted with the beautiful horse he was on before he touched her neck and she was off. Eddie laughed at Steve’s shocked face.

He hadn’t ridden a horse since he lived in Hawkins.

It was freeing.

He arrived at Eddie’s cottage much faster than he thought he would, surprised to see that Eddie lived along the outskirts of town, just past the first few rows of trees in the woods. It was solitary but still had easy access to the main road.

And it was cozy.

Steve could tell Eddie liked his quiet time to himself, just from the entrance to the cottage.

A small shelf held his weapons, though probably not all of them, and a table that looked hand carved held letters and drawings.

Steve made his way further inside, trying not to be nosy, but needing to know more about Eddie before he arrived.

The cottage was small, almost entirely all one large room. No couch, only a single rocking chair in the corner and a small stack of pillows next to a bookcase filled with books. The kitchen area was just enough to get by, only a small table and two chairs to sit at.

He walked into the only bedroom of the house, where the only bed was messily made, and clothing was strewn across the floor.

If he intended to keep Steve here all night, was he expecting him to sleep on the floor?

Steve had slept worse places, he supposed.

“Have you gotten all the information you need from snooping or shall I come back later?”

Steve jumped. He hadn’t been snooping, just looking, but Eddie snuck up on his left side and he hadn’t heard a single hint that he arrived.

When he turned, Eddie did look slightly apologetic, but didn’t say so.

“I managed to snag some fresh bread for us to have with the soup I made last night. It’s not very flavorful, but it’ll do,” Eddie said as he took off his boots and threw them into the corner of the bedroom.

“I won’t eat your food. I told you I wouldn’t use any resources,” Steve reminded him.

“You look like you’re one missed meal away from collapsing. You need food. I have food. You’ll eat.”

Eddie walked out of the bedroom and Steve had no choice but to follow.

They ate in silence. Steve didn’t even feel like he should be sitting at the same table as Eddie, but he didn’t have much choice when Eddie set a bowl of soup down and gestured for him to sit.

Steve didn’t know what to make of him.

—--------------------------------

Steve cleaned up, insisted on doing that much to show his appreciation. Eddie decided not to argue, told him he was going to change and wash his face in the bucket of water he had in the bedroom.

Steve waited for him to be done.

“Are you tired?” Eddie yelled from the room.

“A bit.”

That was an understatement.

Steve hadn’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time for five years. His body was constantly exhausted, and now that he was in an actual house, he could feel his body giving up.

Safety usually did that.

But he couldn’t really know for sure that he was safe, couldn’t know that this wasn’t a trap.

“I have something you can change into for bed. It’s not quite clean, but it’s not dirty either. Come change, I’ll get the fireplace going.”

He’d almost forgotten that the night would be much cooler, that without a fire, he would likely have caught a cold or spent the entire night shivering.

Another reason to be grateful for Eddie.

He didn’t want to be in this position though, owing someone. Especially not someone who could ruin his life or those he loved.

He seemed like a higher ranked soldier, like someone most people listened to and liked, and one order from him could end Steve’s life.

Steve was good at defending himself, but he was tired.

He changed, ignored the way Eddie was staring at him as he did so, not wanting to answer any questions about his arm or the scars littering his body.

He was willing to repay Eddie in some way, but not with answers.

“I’ll take this side,” Eddie mumbled as he started moving the blanket on the side of the bed closest to the door.

“Um.”

“The bed’s big enough, just get in.”

Steve watched as Eddie got on his side, moving around until he was comfortable.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

“Steve. Get in the bed before I send you to the stable.”

Steve wouldn’t have really minded that, maybe even preferred that, but he decided to listen to Eddie.

He got in on the other side of the bed, laying on his side facing the wall, taking up as little space as he could.

“Steve, just get comfortable.”

So, he tried. And surprisingly, he found a very comfortable position on his stomach. He used to sleep that way as a child, never having to worry about if someone would sneak up on him in the woods.

He figured the only person who would try to kill him probably already would have tried by now. Maybe he could actually get some sleep.

He sighed into the pillow, drifting off before he heard Eddie turn over and face him.

—-------------------------

Steve woke up slowly, his body warm and not sore for the first time in years.

He’d forgotten what it was like.

And then he started to take inventory of his surroundings.

He was cuddled into Eddie’s side, his face buried against Eddie’s stomach and hand wrapped around his waist. Eddie’s hand was in his hair, not moving, just holding the strands.

Steve was stuck like this.

Surely, Eddie would wake up and push him away and then he would be sent away as planned.

Surely, Eddie didn’t know this happened in their sleep.

He felt Eddie’s legs shift, then his hand.

A groan.

Steve tried to pretend he was shifting away in his sleep. He closed his eyes and started to turn away.

The hand in his hair gripped harder, kept him where he was.

“You ‘wake?” Eddie whispered.

Steve had two options: pretend to be asleep or say he was awake and possibly die.

So he stayed quiet, let his breathing stay slow despite his nerves. He kept his eyes closed in hopes that Eddie wouldn’t think he’d been awake at all.

“Good.” Eddie whispered. The hand in his hair gently carded through his fingers. “Sleep as long as you want. You need it.”

Steve couldn’t cry like this, it would give him away, but the softness of Eddie’s voice, the gentle way he was holding him, it was all too much.

He bit back the tears, and adjusted himself slightly so he could hopefully fall back asleep.

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

When he woke up screaming, Eddie was holding him, rocking him back and forth to calm him down.

“It’s okay, you’re safe. You’re okay,” Eddie was saying quietly against the top of his head.

He was shaking, and crying, and had to get away from Eddie. He couldn’t show any more weakness.

He tried pulling away, but Eddie wouldn’t let him go.

“Steve, wait. Calm down first, okay? You’re barely breathing.”

He knew that. But he needed to get out.

“Air.”

“Okay,” Eddie said.

And then Steve was in Eddie’s arms as he got up and walked over to the window.

Steve knew he wasn’t as big as he should be, often only ate what was absolutely required to stay alive. But Eddie lifted him like he was lifting a small bag of food, and put no effort into carrying him across the room.

He adjusted Steve in his arms, until Steve was wrapping his legs around his waist and one of Eddie’s arms supported him. His other arm worked open the window, and he let out a small grunt when it got stuck about halfway.

Steve was too busy crying to worry about anything else that was happening.

Eddie held him next to the window, the cool air slowly filtering through the room and into his lungs, waking him up all the way and helping him focus.

But once he could focus, he realized where he was. He realized what he was doing.

He started to drop his legs down, but Eddie didn’t let him.

“Darling, you need to relax. Take some more deep breaths.”

Darling.

Steve looked at Eddie.

Eddie Munson had called him darling before.

”Steven! Come say goodbye to Wayne!”

Steve made his way downstairs to say goodbye to his family’s personal guard. Once a year, he left for two weeks to visit with his cousins in a town nearly a day’s travel away. The second in command usually covered for him, but this year would be Wayne’s nephew, Eddie’s, first time taking his place.

He was the best of the best, and not just according to Wayne.

And he was only two years older than Steve.

Steve loved Wayne, had considered him to be more of a dad than his own dad most of the time.

He crashed into Wayne, face buried in his chest.

At 16, Steve was too old to act like this, but Wayne didn’t believe that anyone was ever too old to give or get a good hug.

“Alright now, it’s alright. It’s just two weeks, son.”

Steve hadn’t noticed that Eddie was standing to the side, serious face to represent his very serious job.

“I’ll miss you,” Steve said.

“You know I’ll miss ya too. But Eddie will take care of you all just fine.”

Steve looked over at Eddie and then back at Wayne.

“He won’t bring me a cup of mead after my parents go to bed, though.”

Wayne laughed and looked over at Eddie, who was refusing to look at them.

“I’ll be sure to bring you two when I get back.”

And then he was gone.

Steve’s parents left the same day for a trip to visit the farms up north.

Steve was alone in the house except for the help and guards. And Eddie.

He hated being alone.

He woke up from a nightmare that first night, shivering and crying silently.

There was a knock on his door, and he felt like he might still be in the nightmare.

But Eddie peeked around the door and Steve relaxed slightly.

“I brought you mead,” Eddie said as he came into the room holding a mug. He paused when he saw the state Steve was in. “Are you okay? What happened?”

Eddie was next to him in a heartbeat, setting the mug on the table by his bed. His hands were cupping Steve’s face, checking him for injury.

“Just a nightmare,” Steve breathed out, still trying to center himself.

“Darling, you’re barely breathing.”

Steve’s eyes looked up at Eddie’s, searching for something, anything that would tell him why he just called him darling.

“I’m okay,” Steve finally said.

Eddie’s hands were gone, but the concern on his face remained.

“Do you need anything?”

“Could you stay?”

Steve hated asking, he hated being vulnerable with anyone. But he hated being alone more.

“I’ll stay, darling.”

“Why are you being nice to me?” Steve couldn’t help asking.

Eddie hadn’t been unkind before, but he certainly hadn’t made it seem like he wanted to be friendly.

“Because I know you don’t deserve to be treated poorly.”

Steve watched as Eddie contemplated what he was going to say.

“I know about the prophecy. Your parents told me when you left. They sat me and Wayne down, explained how important it was to find you, to keep you here so that our town and the world wouldn’t suffer. I didn’t believe it, but then the flood happened, and everything happened, and we’ve spent years just trying to survive. And the only thing that made sense was that you left and this started.”

“They didn’t tell you the part of the prophecy that I knew, though.”

“I figured it out though. I learned the part they didn’t tell anyone. That if you stayed in Hawkins, Hawkins would be safe, but the rest of the country would burn. But if you left, you had a chance at saving everyone.”

Steve nodded.

“Darling, you’re so good.” Eddie cupped his jaw and smiled sadly at him. “You went out into the world to save it, risked your life to help all of us. It came at a cost, but so does everything.”

Steve was crying again.

“What happened to your arm?”

“I lost it when I lost the hearing in my left ear,” Steve started, but paused when Eddie’s finger started tracing along his left ear. “We were stuck in a town that wasn’t prepared for anything. I could feel an earthquake coming, it’s just the way the ground feels under my feet. I tried to warn everyone, some people listened, but. There was a little girl. She was alone in a shop. I couldn’t leave her there. I misjudged how far off the earthquake was, misjudged how bad it would be. Managed to push her out of a window before the building collapsed. I got stuck under a counter that fell on my head, knocked me out cold, then more beams fell on my arm. By the time Robin and Max got to me, they had to cut it off or leave me there.”

“And the prosthetic?”

“Got it about a year ago. Helped a family escape from a tornado, managed to save most of their possessions even, and one of them was the prototype for this. The man had it built in a week for me. It isn’t perfect, but it does what I need it to do.”

“You can’t hear anything out of your left ear?”

“No.”

“That’s why I scared you earlier.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry that you’ve had to do this, darling.”

Steve shrugged.

“No, you should have never had to do this. I don’t know what changed in your mind to make you leave, and I’m glad you were able to help, but it should’ve never fallen on you.”

“I broke up with Nancy. I just had a moment when we were together, I realized she didn’t even know I liked having mead in bed. We were together for nearly a year, planned to marry, and she didn’t even know I liked drinking mead. It sounds stupid, but it just. It reminded me that on the first night you had to protect me, you brought me mead because you overheard me tell Wayne about it.”

Eddie looked at him with something like awe on his face.

“So you left because you broke up with her?”

“Yes and no. I broke up with her because I needed to for a lot of reasons, but I left because she was the only thing keeping me here. I knew I couldn’t ignore what my future was, and ignoring it would only make it worse for everyone outside of Hawkins.”

“But it was a suicide mission.”

“I had help.”

“The children?!”

Steve smirked and patted his cheek.

“Every single one of those children can outwit and outmatch you any day of the week. I guarantee it.”

“Whatever,” Eddie blushed. “So you’ve been out there for five years, basically alone, saving the country?”

Steve nodded.

“I-” Eddie shook his head. “And the nightmares, those are memories?”

“Mostly. Some of them take it a bit too far and go from memories to worst case scenarios.”

“You have them often?”

“Pretty often. Robin usually wakes me before they get too bad.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize what was happening until you were already screaming and crying.”

“It’s okay. Next time.”

“Next time?” Eddie smiled.

“If you’d like. I’m not in a rush to go. I don’t really have anywhere to go.”

“You seemed pretty set on leaving tomorrow.”

“I didn’t exactly feel welcome.”

Eddie kissed his forehead softly, letting his lips linger for a moment before he whispered.

“Do you feel welcome now?”

“I suppose with a cup of mead, I might.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #the party #robin buckley #fantasy au #hurt/comfort #sort of enemies to lovers #anon request #ficlet

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