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aspirationalpeony · 5 months

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What She Deserves

Summary: Melissa hears a painful truth, and you're there to help her recover. Content Warnings: Unhealthy coping mechanisms, discussion of infidelity, emotional neglect, emotional abuse, disordered eating. Don't worry, it's all hurt/comfort! AO3 Link

You come home one day, and she's crying.

There were warnings when you entered the house: Her high-heeled Docs, discarded sloppily like she'd yanked them off right in the doorway. The open bottle of wine and the lipstick-smeared glass on the low table in front of the plastic-covered couch, a stack of photo albums just by them, a few opened and in disarray. Her leather jacket thrown right onto the carpeted floor. You knew there was something going on--a bad day with the double class? A fight with Barbara?--and you squared your shoulders as you went up the stairs.

You weren't, aren't, ready for what you hear. You've never heard her cry like that, in real, deep sobs, body-wracking things that must be shaking her to the roots. You find yourself hovering outside the bedroom door, just listening for long, awful seconds, trying to understand it, that that sound could be coming from Melissa. And knowing, because you know her, that she doesn't want you to hear this. That there'll be a fight if you go in that room. No matter how desperate she is to be held and comforted--first, there'll be a fight.

It's how she's always been. Your tears turn her buttery-soft, gentle and sweet, her rough edges showing only when she offers to beat the shit out of whoever's hurt you. But her tears? Her tears are a vulnerability. And Mel--she can't stand being vulnerable. When she knows she's showing weakness, that there's a chance someone, anyone, even you, could go in for the kill, her claws come out, twice as long and sharp.

(She told you, one time, about her dad; how Kristen-Marie's tears would make him do anything to soothe her, turning the gruff, remote man into a teddy bear, cradling his baby girl in his arms. How Melissa's tears would turn him mean, how she was the eldest, she was supposed to take care of her family, and here she was howling and whining like a pathetic pissant baby, and she should go help her Nana with dinner and her siblings with their homework and stop bothering her dad, who worked so hard, sunup to sundown, to provide for this fuckin' family, and don't fuckin' touch me again, Melissa Ann.)

You're getting to be okay with it. She's getting to be better with it, too, which helps. But you know this isn't going to be a time she can reel herself in and catch that anger before it flares. You need to be there for her. You open the door.

She's at her vanity table. You love that she has one of those things; it's so Old Hollywood, covered in the skincare and makeup that didn't fit into her bathroom, a secret stash of gummy bears in one drawer, a picture of her and her Nana, framed, where she can look at it whenever she needs her. You love that picture, Melissa looking so terribly young, her hair still dark and undyed, her Nana with those green Schemmenti eyes and a look of profound love and pride on her aged face.

When she hears the door creak open, Melissa whips around to look at you. She's not that girl in the photo anymore, but you see shades of her in her crumpled, flushed, tear-stained face; you see that woman, young and hurt and afraid, behind the armor that she's been building for so long, layer on layer.

"Baby," you say.

"Fuck off," she barks at you. You wince. She winces, too, hearing herself; her brows knit and her head ducks and she trembles as she fights another sob. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I--" her voice is hoarse. "Babe, fuck, just go," she whines, sounding like somebody else, some scared, struggling stranger. "Just go, I don't, I don't--" you can hear so many ends to that sentence: I don't want you to see me like this. I don't want to hurt you just because I'm hurting. I don't want you to know how vulnerable I am.

"Hey," you say, "it's okay, it's okay," like she's a hurt kid or a shying horse, and every instinct in you calls for you to put your arms around her, pull her to your chest the way she does you when you cry. Instead, you move closer--slowly--and you sit with her. You get down on the floor, maybe a foot from her chair, and you don't touch her. She looks at you with her mouth twisted and eyes narrowed. Tears are still trickling from her reddened eyes; her body is shaking with it.

You want to cradle her face in your hands. You've learned she can't take it, not when she's in the middle of the feeling; she can't stand being touched at all. She has to get the emotions out in their first, horrible frenzy, and then she can let herself be comforted, once the frightened, angry, hurt little girl inside has let go of the wheel and let the grown woman take back over.

Her hands are fists on her thighs. There's something crumpled in one of them, a paper.

"Baby, what happened?" you say.

"You should just fuck off," she says hoarsely. "You should just fuck off outta my life. You're gonna, anyway, so--" her face pinches. She fights another sob that shakes her whole body. Her mascara is a wreck. "I'm gonna hurt you," she says, "and you're gonna hurt me, and I can't take it. I can't take it, so, so--"

"What happened?" You lean forward. A little glimmer of intuition comes. Your own eyes are starting to tear up, seeing her, but your head stays level. You can't get whipped up into her pain or you won't be able to help. "Did Joe do something?"

Now she lets the sob out, deep and hoarse. Her clenched fist opens and the paper drops. You recognize it once its face is turned up on the floor: it's a photo from one of the old albums she still keeps, one of the loving records she'd made of a marriage that failed. She let you look through them a few times. ("I don't keep them 'cause I want him back or nothin'," she'd told you. "He can drop dead, for all I care. But I..." A cloud passed over her face then, troubled and sad, and you didn't push; you knew she was giving you a privilege letting you see her like this, much less look at these mementos of a young woman desperate to be loved.)

The photo is her and Joe cutting the cake at their wedding. It's a four-tier monstrosity, probably made by a Schemmenti relative, with thick frosted swags and rosettes and topped with a hokey little bride and groom. Mel's in her big puff-shouldered princess dress, her huge eighties hair and thick makeup. Joe's got a five o'clock shadow and looks like hell from his bachelor party the night before. She's told you how hurt and lonely she was that day, even though she's smiling in all the pictures; how she starved herself, ate one meal a day and drank nothing but water, getting ready to fit into her dress, and he rolled out of bed an hour before the wedding, hungover, stifling burps through the ceremony.

"What happened?" you repeat.

"Nina called," she says.

You straighten. "Are they getting married?" It would make sense: the tears, the photo, the terror of being left again. That sack of shit Joe, you're going to take Edith Houghton and--

"What? No," she says, so startled by the suggestion she's speaking in her own voice again, not the one hoarse and strained by tears. "No, they're not--no." Her other hand opens in her lap and she looks down at the pair of them. You can see her trying to make herself relax, make herself stop crying and shouting. "Sorry, baby," she whispers, "I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt ya. I didn't mean..."

"I know." If you took Melissa at her word every time she cursed, well... "I'm not fucking off anywhere. Can you tell me what happened?"

She gives you a look, harrowed and bruised, then drops her gaze back to her hands. She opens and closes her fingers, working on herself still. "Nina called. I was still at the school. She called to thank me for dinner," she says roughly. "And she said she had to tell me somethin'. She said..."

No marriage. Your next thought is, Oh my god, she's pregnant. That's one of the sorest subjects of Melissa's whole life, and if Nina had the audacity to tell Melissa that over the phone, while she was at work, to deliver such crushing, awful--where's Edith Houghton, you really are going to--

"She thanked me for dinner," Melissa repeats. She's getting more control and tips her head back against the welling of tears in her eyes, like it will save her makeup now. She's staring at the ceiling when she says, "Nina said she had somethin' to tell me, because she knew you and me, and her and Joe, all of us, were gettin' closer, like bein' friends."

That's true. You aren't so crazy about the Joe you know from Melissa's stories, but apparently he's a changed man now, and you can still see shades of the guy Melissa liked so much: his silver head of hair still full and sleek, his trim, Selleckian mustache, his way with a grin and a laugh. You like Nina better than him, a woman about twenty years his junior, tough and smart with arms covered in tattoos. You've never pointed out that she's like a different shade of Mel, a version that Joe hasn't had time to hurt, although you've had the thought many times.

Last week all four of you had gathered at Mel's for dinner. Melissa refused to cook--she'd never cook for Joe again, she told you privately, not after all the housekeeping and nannying and babying she did in their marriage--but you all got takeout and sat around the table and talked and laughed, openly, comfortably, the way friendly couples do, and you could believe that all that history was far behind them, that there was a future where Joe and Mel could admit to their scars and what they'd inflicted on each other, and be brothers-in-arms, veterans of the fight, not soldiers on opposing sides.

"Nina said," Melissa says, and wipes away a tear. "She said they were together. While me'n'Joe were still married."

You stare. "What?"

"They were together," she repeats. "They've been lyin', this whole time. 'Bout when they met. It was way before the divorce. He was fuckin' her on the side." Her lips pinch together and her mouth twists. She stares at the ceiling like the answer to it all is up there and fiercely bats away another tear. "I..." You watch her. Her throat works as she tries to get words together. "Nina said she couldn't keep lyin' to me. That she always felt awful about it. And now I got you and she likes ya and wants things to be fair, for us to... To choose our friends right, and..."

You've always had an impression of Nina as like Mel in this way, too--as rough, but fundamentally decent. Prone to a little lie here, a little sleight-of-hand there, but not enough to really hurt somebody, never playing games where it really mattered. What's awful is that this sounds like her all over, that single-minded sense of fairness, a toughness inside that made her willing to face the music, to blow up this burgeoning friendship if it meant being honest.

"Baby," you say softly, and inch closer on the floor. It's enough. The wall crumbles. Melissa slides straight off the chair onto the floor with you, practically into your lap, and her whole body sways into your arms. You take her, you hold her. She shakes in your grip, crying, still, though no longer those sobs that seemed to scour her from the inside out. You carefully stroke her hair back from her face as she clings to your encircling arms, and you ride it out together.

She comes back from it slowly, stilling, relaxing into you. Then she hiccups, in a loud, distinct hic, and instantly leans back to give you an accusing look, daring you to laugh. She hiccups again. It makes you smile. You touch her red, damp cheek, brushing your thumb against its flushed curve. "It's okay," you tell her. She hiccups. "I'm going to get you some water. You wanna sit on the bed?"

When you come back, she's not on the bed; she's back at the vanity. She's scrupulously wiping her makeup off with little micellar pads, lips still pinched like she's trying not to cry, leaning close to the mirror to make sure she's getting it all. You sit on the edge of the mattress with water in one hand and ibuprofen in the other, waiting, and when she's done, she turns to accept your offerings, her eyes lowered, a little shamefaced.

"C'mon," you say when she's knocked the pills back. "C'mere." She gets up and joins you, crawling right to the middle of the bed, and you crawl after her, settling on your back so that she can curl into the protective curve of your arm. You look down at her face--her long nose with its cute, turned-up snub at the end, the lashes shielding her reddened green eyes, the mark at the corner of her mouth that records every smile and frown--and you don't get it. You don't get why Joe is... Joe. And why he did what he did.

More's going to come, you know that. The air's heavy with it. Finally Melissa starts to talk. She stares across the room while she does it, your hand stroking her hair.

"I knew he was cheatin'," she says. "I think he was bonin' some of the other firefighters' wives. And he probably would go out and pick some girls up, too, some, y'know, whoever he could get his hands on, right. At that point, it was, what, the last few years, and I wasn't puttin' out, so. I mean, I'd blow him, to get him off my back, but not the real thing."

"That doesn't mean it was your fault."

She doesn't answer that. Instead, she says, "I didn't think any of 'em were serious. Like, that it was an affair affair, you know. Like that made it better. Anyhow..." She presses more closely into you. You're sure she can hear your heartbeat, and you feel it as she tries to steady her breathing to match you. "Nina said it was happenin' the last year," she says. "The very last year he and I were married. Funny thing is, I was tryin' to make it work."

You've seen photos from that time in her life. You know what trying to make it work entailed for her: back on the one-meal-a-day diet, trying to get her menopausal body back to a twenty-five-year-old's slimness; the brightening of her hair to fire-engine red, trying to be enough to catch his eye; the clothes she wore, trying to turn herself girly, like her princess-gown wedding dress had been so girly, and so unlike her. Oh, she's always feminine, Melissa--luxuriously, wonderfully feminine--but not girly, pink and wispy, delicate. Not like she tried to make herself for Joe.

"What was it all for?" she says wonderingly, voicing your own thought aloud. "What did I do all that shit for, baby? He was already fucking her. He already... Loved her." Her voice is hollow and lonely. You think of that story about her dad, what he told her, again and again, all her life, about her role in the world, about who she was. You're supposed to take care of this family. You're supposed to give up everything. You're supposed to give us what we want, we're supposed to have our cake and eat it, too, and fuck you if you try to keep even a crumb for yourself. He probably never said it as plainly as that, but it was what he meant.

"S'what I get," she says, very softly, almost to herself; it's a child's voice, meek and small, from that place deep inside where she's forever the self-loathing little girl, crying alone in the kitchen. "S'what I deserve."

"No." Her eyes flick up to yours. "You don't deserve that. You did it all because you cared about him," you say, petting the soft hair at Mel's temple. "Because you loved him. There's nothing wrong with that. That's not shameful." Her eyes dart away. You know you've caught a little bit of what's dragging on her--the shame. The shame of giving up everything for a man who didn't know her favorite color, her favorite ice cream flavor; of sacrificing her dream of a real home, a baby, the life she'd always imagined, for somebody who'd turn around and stick his dick in God knew how many other women.

"I hate him," you confide in her softly. She doesn't quite smile, but the corners of her eyes crinkle tenderly like she feels the smile inside. "I hate him so much." You echo her promises from all the times your roles were reversed, your tear-wrung body cradled in her arms: "You want me to beat the shit out of him?"

"Yeah," Melissa says at once, "please." She sniffles, then hiccups. "Jesus." Her head lolls against your chest. Her arm drapes over your waist and pulls you tight against her. "I really liked her," she says softly, into the quiet room. "That's... What fuckin' sucks about it, huh? I liked her, and I... I was likin' him again. He was my best friend, before you'n'Barb. And I... Wanted my friend back."

"It's okay." You scratch your nails gently against her scalp, tracing the sensitive skin at her nape. "It's okay you wanted him back, as your friend. You can still care about him. About both of them. And be angry, and hate them, even though you care, and not talk to them for a long time. What you feel is okay."

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. You wonder if she's ever heard those words before. If Joe or anyone else in her life has embraced this chaos of contradictions, this woman so full of passion that she can't help but feel, all of it, everything at once. That's why she's so tough, you know. Because despite it all--her shitty dad, her vicious sister, her awful ex, and everyone in between--she never lost that thing they all zeroed in on, that weakness. She never lost that sensitive, loving heart. She had to protect it; no one else would do it for her.

Now you can. Now you will. You lean down and kiss the top of her head. She hiccups.

"You want me to run you a bath?" you ask. Her head bobs against your shoulder in a little nod. You give her another kiss and start to extract yourself from her arms. She rolls into the warm space left by your body as you enter the en-suite.

You love Melissa’s bathroom, same way you love the vanity table. It’s an extension of herself, a little bit organized and a little bit chaos: hair care and skincare products on every available surface, eyeliners worn down to a nub, her perfume, her lip gloss. Tucked into the edge of the mirror, wrinkled from long exposure to the steam of her baths and showers, are two pictures. One is herself and Barbara at Barb’s sixtieth birthday party. “We looked like a whole meal,” Mel told you frankly when you asked about it. They’re both in dresses that cling to the generous curves of their bodies, heads tilted together, wearing mirror smiles and a shade of red lipstick that’s nearly the same. It washes you with tenderness to see it.

The other picture is her and you. The guy she dated before you tried to take her to Dave & Buster’s on a first date, so of course, you two had to go. It’s a strip of photos from an automated booth, the two of you in outrageous poses: her pretending to take a bite out of your cheek in one, your tongues lolling and eyes crossed in another. In the last photo, the camera’s just caught you looking at her, eyes full of love, while she’s squinting over her glasses at the lens, trying to tell if it’s taking the next picture.

You start the bath running. You make sure it’s hot as hell, just the way she likes it, and add a judicious amount of the first body wash you grab, letting the water churn it into bubbles. A shuffle and a rattle behind you; it’s Mel in the doorway. “Hey, baby,” you say. She looks like shit, which you don’t mention. “It’s filling up. Here, I’ll let you relax.”

“Stay with me,” she says.

You sit next to the tub while she lowers herself into the water. Her clothes are a messy pile on the floor; you pull them toward yourself and start folding them, piece by piece, making her roll her eyes affectionately. She tips her head back against the edge of the tub and looks at you, and you feel yourself prickling with the focus of that gaze.

"What are you thinkin'?" she asks at last, quietly.

"I'm thinkin'," you echo, rubbing the fabric of her silky pink blouse between your fingers, "that you're tired, and I'm tired, so in a little bit, I'll order some dinner." Maybe Indian? You've learned never to get Italian with Melissa; everything's scrutinized, down to the texture of the breadcrumbs. "Then I'll wrap you up in your bathrobe. We'll watch a movie..." You move on to her jeans. They're still warm from her body. You smile a little to yourself as you tidy them into a small square. "A Paul Newman movie." Her favorite. "And drink wine. And then you're going to go to bed. And you're not grading anything tonight, okay? And I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

"What are you thinkin'?" you ask, and look at her. What you see makes you straighten your spine, makes you feel spotlit and strange.

She's staring. She looks... How can you describe it? Unsmiling, but not unhappy; tender, but not amorous; vulnerable, but not afraid. She looks... Wonderstruck.

She reaches out with one small hand and her manicured nails brush your cheek gently. "I think I never been taken care of the way you take care of me," she says. Her thumb brushes your lower lip. "Thank you, baby. I..." You see the questions in her green eyes, the sensitivity and confusion: How did this happen? Will I get to keep this? What will happen to me when it's taken away?

"I'll always take care of you," you promise her, voice soft. You dip your head and kiss the pad of her thumb. Kiss her palm, making her sigh. You take her hand in yours and she squeezes hard. You make her a soft promise, one you know she's never heard before: "Melissa... It's what you deserve."

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader

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bi-zemo · 1 year

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curiousity - tate langdon x male reader

tate hates that students moved into the house, but the guy that moved into his room may be able to help him with something.

based of the british concept of student houses (aka bunch of students rent a shitty house together while in uni) idk if americans have those but idc, reader takes drugs btw, bottom tate

crossposted on ao3

The house being turned into a student house was a decision hated by the ghosts, young people moving in and out every year bringing with them mess, drugs, drinking and parties. The ghosts had no privacy and the students were so busy or so high that they couldnt be haunted out. Tate was of the opinion he had gotten the worst deal, yes he enjoyed being out in the open during the many house parties but the current resident of his room was arguably the worst yet. Every other night, every night when there was a break from college, the resident of tates bedroom would bring someone, or on occasion multiple people, into what tate considered his space. They would take pills or drop acid or snort something and that was when tate would leave, right as a tie or sock was slung over the doorknob. It pissed him off, that sort of thing happening in his room, he wasn't exactly the virgin mary himself but the amount of guys going in and out of that room was disgusting. The fact that it was men really didn't help the students' case in tates eyes, there were enough dead queers in the house without alive ones moving in. He was curious though.

I walked through the house, squeezing past people in the stairwell and struggling up the steps as the tab I had dropped nearly an hour ago made each step warp and move. “Need some help sweetheart?” I relaxed my grip on the bannister and turned to the familiar voice, the guy who I had been seeing occasionally standing behind me. “I'm good, i think, you’re free to come up if you want though.” I smirked slightly, trying not to laugh at how the taller mans usually beautiful features had become disproportioned. my arm was gently grabbed and I was led upstairs, the people thinning out as we headed to the bedrooms. “Let me guess, acid” “Yeah only a tab tho-” I turned only to find he had disappeared, the darkness feeling so much more terrifying with the psychedelics fucking with my vision. “Looking for someone?” I whipped around facing down the landing again, except now there was a man staring darkly at me, his figure somehow still in the ever changing room. “My friend, he was just here..” “Probably just drunk, or on something knowing this place, you going somewhere?” “Yeah, was going to bed,” I felt uneasy in the darkness, especially with the man's dark eyes staring into me. I longed to be back in the party downstairs. “I can walk you to bed if you want” “I think i can manage” i was becoming less sure of that, the man somehow amplifying the effects of the acid while still remaining perfect. “You sure about that love? Whatever you've taken seems to be making it hard to walk” “It's just,” i attempted to walk a straight line “the floor keeps moving, that's all” The guy grabbed my arm where my friend had before and led me along the hallway, stopping right outside my door despite the fact that i hadn't told him where it was. I was caught off guard by how quickly we had traversed the seemingly lengthened hallway. “You can uh, you can come in, i think i have some wine under my bed, or like some beer maybe” The man smiled and opened the door, stepping in like he was already at home in my small room. He settled on the mess of quilts and pillows that was my bed, almost lounging. “I’ll have whatever, don't think you should though not sure how it'll interact with,” he gestured at my current state. “Yeah, lemme just,” I got on my knees, rooting around under my bed until I found the bottle of cheap wine I had hidden from my housemates under there. “Didn't expect you on your knees so quickly,” he joked, making me feel less uneasy around this almost stranger. I laughed quietly handing him the bottle. “You owe me, its my last bottle.” “Ill be sure to bring one next time i'm here.” “Good to know you’ll be back” The guys eyes glinted at me as he uncorked the bottle and took a swig, his adams apple bobbing as he almost chugged it down. “Thirsty?” “Just tryna catch up with you.” I stood up flipping on my leds with the remote from my bedside table and tugged my hoodie off, chucking it on a nearby chair. “Why is that?” I settled on the bed next to him, slouching down and staring at the ceiling as colours swirled around my bare lightbulb. I felt him shift and his face came into view. “Well from what i know about you, being fucked up makes this better.” And with that he kissed me, soft inexperienced lips almost aggressively connecting with mine. I wound my hands into his soft hair, the acid making his short breaths deafening, and he crawled on top of me, his knee moving between my thighs. His movements were stunted, my heightened senses picking up how his hands only ghosted my clothed skin. I moved my other arm to slide the fingers under the hem of his shirt to where a stretch of skin was revealed from his shirt riding up. I felt his breathing stop for barely a second when my fingers brushed his lower back, that second taking much longer than it should. Our lips parted, a string of saliva breaking after a moment, and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me again with those black eyes. “Tate stop bothering him,” He jolted and I saw a girl standing in the doorway, her figure having the same effect of not moving as the doorway swayed around her. He quickly moved off me, adjusting his shirt hastily. “I guess I should go.” I felt almost disappointed, oddly cold without his touch. The girl had disappeared. “Whose she? You don't have to leave.” “Violet, she's uh, a friend.” an ex then, “I'm gonna go.” “You still owe me that wine.” “I know”

It was the next day and my mind was tired, the comedown not treating me well. I was pottering around the kitchen making pasta when I heard a voice. “I brought that wine” It was the guy,tate I recalled from that fever dream of a night. “How did you get in?” “Door was unlocked.” He handed me a bottle, one of the cheap brands my household favoured, and I tucked it under my arm, grabbing my bowl of pasta. “Wanna come upstairs?”

Tate could barely hold himself back, an invisible thread pulling him to the man he had only kissed for a moment yet felt like he knew entirely. The bottle of wine had been discarded on the bedside table and the guy was talking wearily about his classes or something along that vein. “So what do you study” Tate realised he should answer. “Oh, i don't go to college, dropped out of high school” The lie slipped out easily, something he had told previous owners of this room. He hadn't planned on talking to the guy again, just kissing him the night before out of curiosity, but it had felt like a bolt of electricity had hit him the moment they touched and he couldn't help but want to feel like that again, like he was alive. He found himself shuffling closer as they talked, turning his head right as the other turned his. The animated talking stopped immediately as their eyes locked.

I almost didn't realise we were kissing again, one minute tates dark eyes were staring straight into mine next his lips were on mine, more aggressive than the night before, all signs of inexperience gone. I melted into him, hands moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him into me. This time when we drew apart we barely paused before he dug a hand into my hair and pulled me into him again. The initial shock had worn off and I started an attempt to be in charge again, slipping my tongue into his mouth and moving my hand down to his waist. I pulled away and moved to his neck, hearing barely there gasps as I gently bit below his ear. At this point I had pushed him against the headboard of my bed, my thighs straddling one of his. “Fuck” I chuckled lightly at the word, barely mumbled after my hand had slipped under his shirt and started gently caressing his waist. I could feel his breathing pause when I moved along his sensitive v line and teased the waistband of his jeans. Each touch had a physical reaction and I found myself addicted to finding a new sound or twitch. “I want to fuck you.” His dark bambi eyes looked up at me when he heard the sentence, cheeks flushed and lips slick with spit. I couldn't tell if he was batting his eyelashes on purpose. “Go ahead.” My hand went from fiddling his jeans button to unbuttoning them, pulling them down past his erection that was trapped behind his baggy boxers, he had pushed his shoes off when he sat on my bed and so his jeans slipped off easily, leaving his plush thighs to start pebbling with goosebumps from my cold room. He began pulling off his own t-shirt as I began slipping off my sweatpants and hoodie. The moment we were both almost naked I reconnected our lips, my hands exploring his warm thighs and ass, pulling him up to rest on his knees over my lap. “You're beautiful tate.” He flushed, the blush spreading down his chest. “Just fuck me already.” Such dirty words coming out of his timid blushed form made my cock twitch, and i couldn't help but follow what he said. I pushed Tate back, hearing the headboard bang against the wall as he thumped onto the bed, and tugged his boxers past those beautiful thighs, leaving kisses as I went. His thighs were soon hooked around my head, almost suffocating me as I lapped at his ass, preparing him gently and teasing out those gaspy moans. He had seemed unsure when I initially dove down but his heels pressing against my back and pulling me closer eradicated any fear that he wasn't enjoying this. His hands tugged my hair drawing me closer still. Without looking up I grabbed the lube from my bedside table, only coming up for air to read the label. I had grabbed the flavoured luckily. I squirted it onto his taint, watching him shiver as it slid over his ass before sliding a finger in and letting my mouth join it. The sweet flavour suited him. He winced slightly but still let out a groan and pulled my now sweaty hair to the point where it almost hurt. Another finger slipped in easily and I felt his legs squeeze as I started moving them gently. I moved up, still fingering him to force out the whines, and let him pull me up to kiss him. I hastily pushed off my boxers with my free hand and leant over to grab a condom. I withdrew my fingers with a squelch, causing Tate to open his eyes and look at me through his blonde fringe, his eyelashes fluttering again. I rolled the condom on and lined myself up, leaning into tates cold neck as I pushed in. The noise he made was unforgettable, like a combination of a gasp and a deep groan, i rocked my hips slightly as i eased in my full length. A moment later I grabbed his left thigh and pushed his leg up, allowing me to bottom out with a sigh. “Fuck, holy fuck” His head was thrown back as he said this, his throat bared and his eyes shut gently. I pushed his other thigh back until he was almost folded in half and began thrusting, my breaths coming out in pants as his ass squeezed around me almost too tight. I could see his cock hard against his stomach, oozing precum onto the pale skin. “You’re taking me so good honey” He blushed and I saw his cock twitch at the praise. “Such a good boy.” And with that I pulled out almost my full length, thrusting back in as hard as I could and making him moan loud enough that my housemates would most definitely ask about it later. I tried the best I could to keep up the speed, enjoying watching tates beautiful reactions. He was gripping the headboard above him at this point, tears forming in his eyes and drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Can-” he could barely talk from moaning so i slowed, “can you take the condom off, i wanna feel-” he blushed. “You wanna feel what baby.” “I wanna feel you cum inside.” He must've felt my dick twitch then, his words coming out desperate enough that if i had been any closer i may have come. I shouldn't have, he could have an std for all i knew, but i slid out and removed the condom. Pushing back in caused tate to hiss as i hadn't lubed up a second time, but when i paused he begged me to keep going and moaned loudly as i bottomed out. The warmth was almost burning now that I could feel it fully. I moved slowly at first before the friction subsided and I could go faster again. “Fuck, tate, im close” He whined, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and I gave one final thrust that almost pushed him up the bed before cumming. As I rode out my orgasm I felt him clench and shudder as he came over his chest. I kept going to help him through before my softening cock slipped out and I collapsed onto the bed next to him. “I didn't realise it would feel that good” His words came out hoarse and breathless, I turned with mild surprise. “You haven't had sex with-” “With a guy, no.” I was too exhausted to comment, just rolling over and pulling him to my chest. “You took it well.” I felt him hesitantly snuggle into my chest.

Tate felt the others' breath even out and instantly made himself disappear, pulling on his clothes and moving towards the door, stopping only to fix his hair in the mirror and wipe the dried spit from his mouth. “Didn’t take you for a queer.” Tate rolled his eyes, pushing past violet. “Didn't take you for a voyeur” He ignored that he could feel the other mans cum beginning to run down his thigh.

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate Langdon x you #tate langdon x male reader #tate langdon x y/n #ahs murder house #ahs #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x male reader

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leviathans-watching · 2 years

Text

love thy neighbor

includes: beel x gn!reader (they/them pronouns used)

wc: 7.3k | rated t | m.list | read on ao3!

a/n: this fic is part of a trade i did with @mickeywabbit!! they did my new pfp so please give her some love!! and mika i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: some mild cursing, spiders

please reblog!!

Before the boxes can fully tip over, you feel the top one getting lifted, a tanned arm entering your vision.

“Whoah,” the stranger says, and you shift the boxes remaining, moving them out of your way. Without the box that had been on top, it’s much easier for you to get a handle on everything. “Careful there,” he continues once you’re finally able to see him, and you have to adjust where you’re looking because seriously, this guy is way taller than you expected.

Or, living next door to a demon.

Grimacing, you slow to a stop, trying to regain your hold on the boxes in your arms. Perhaps you’ve overestimated your strength. The boxes wobble precariously, and you wrack your brain, trying to remember what was in them. Was it anything breakable?

Before the boxes can fully tip over, you feel the top one getting lifted, a tanned arm entering your vision.

“Thank you,” you say gratefully, giving him a small smile. His face is delightfully open and warm and his odd purple eyes are inviting. “I thought I could get everything.”

“No worries,” your stranger says, genuinely seeming to mean it. “Are you moving in? I can help you take this where you need to go.”

Usually, you’d never give someone you didn’t know your address, but you don’t see another way to do things without making it super complicated. “I am,” you reply. “I’m in Apartment 5C.”

Your stranger’s eyes widen and he gives a little laugh, practically glowing. “No way! I’m in 5B. It’s nice to meet you, neighbor! I’m Beelzebub.”

It’s a quaint name, but it suits him, so you don’t hesitate to introduce yourself as well. Once you’ve both been properly introduced, the two of you head for the elevator.

“Do you like living here?” you ask once the doors slide shut and Beelzebub shrugs.

“It’s not the coolest place I’ve lived in, but it’s pretty nice. The city’s great, obviously, and the landlady is pleasant, so what more could you ask for?” Aside from his cheerfulness, Beelzebub seems refreshingly easy-going, a trait you’ve always admired. You continue to chat back and forth and before you know it, you’re at your door. You shift the boxes to push it open and Beelzebub sends you a reproving frown.

“Leaving your door unlocked? That’s not super safe.”

“I know,” you say, setting the boxes down with a small thud. “But since I’ve been so up and down while moving stuff in, it’s been easier for me to leave it unlocked. I promise I’ll lock it when I’m done.”

Nodding, Beelzebub sets his box down as well. “That’s good. This isn’t an unsafe complex or anything, but you can’t be too careful.” Normally, someone saying that would make you feel a little weirded out, but he just seems so genuine you can’t draw up the feeling.

“Well,” you say, “thank you so much for the save. I’d offer you a drink of something, but as you can tell, I’m not even sure where I’d find my cups.”

Beelzebub looks around at your stacks and piles of boxes and laughs. “I understand. Are you sure you don’t need any more help? I really wouldn’t mind.”

“No, but thank you. You’ve already been great.”

Beelzebub droops a little at this, almost like a puppy. It’s unbearably cute and you wonder what you’re getting yourself into. “Are you sure? I’ve got nothing else going on.”

His earnestness is unexpectedly sweet, but you remain strong, denying him once again.

“Okay,” Beelzebub finally relents, “but if you need my help, don’t hesitate to let me know. Knock on my door any time.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” you promise, an idea entering your mind. “Say, do you want to exchange numbers? That way we can get ahold of one another more easily?”

“Sure thing. Here, I’ll give you mine.”

The two of you spend another moment adding each other to your contacts before you sigh. “I’ve got to get back to work. Thanks again for the help!”

“Be careful,” Beelzebub advises. “Don’t want to drop anything.”

“Right,” you agree, a little chagrined. Beelzebub disappears back into his apartment and you wait for his door to click shut before you let yourself fall back against the doorframe. You hadn’t expected to meet someone so kind, especially paired with that handsomeness, but you definitely aren’t complaining. And even aside from all of that, he really does seem like a genuinely cool person. Hopefully, you’ll be able to get to know him better.

Shaking your head, you force yourself back to work, but your mind lingers on Beelzebub.

A few weeks go by, and before you know it, you’re mostly settled in. The majority of your boxes are unpacked and everything is pretty much put together. It had taken a few trips to the thrift for you to finish decorating and everything, but you’re pretty happy with how it all looks. You think pretty much anything is better than before when you just had a few necessities out and the rest still packed away in the corner.

It feels nice to finally be able to kick back and watch TV, so you do so with relish, putting on your favorite show. You already ate earlier so you’re just nursing a glass of water, too lazy to do anything fancier. You’re about halfway through the episode - and your water - when there’s a knock at your door, ringing through your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so confusion runs through you. washes over you, followed by excitement.

Could it be Beelzebub?

Pausing the show, you stand, a little nervous. You don’t even know if it’s him or not! There’s no reason to get all excited. You’d been so busy with everything that you hadn’t had a chance to text him, and by the time you remembered, it had been too late. Texting him at this point would just be awkward. While you feel silly for feeling so disproportionally disappointed that he hadn’t texted, you can’t help but wish he had.

Looking through the peephole, you frown, not seeing anyone there. Opening your door, you glance around, then down. There’s a food delivery service bag sitting innocuously on your welcome mat. Again, you hadn’t been expecting anyone, especially not anyone delivering food, so you lean down to pick the bag up, looking for the receipt. The bag is pretty big and heavy, so you wonder what all was ordered.

Finally finding the name on the delivery, your breath catches. It’s for Beelzebub. Giving it to him is the right thing to do, so you shore yourself up, stepping out of your room and fully into the hall, pulling your door closed behind you. Beelzebub’s door is right there, so you don’t let yourself hesitate, raising a hand and knocking firmly.

You could leave the food and go back to your apartment, like the delivery person did to you, or you could wait, use this as your chance to talk to Beelzebub.

Before you can fully commit to either option, the door swings open, revealing Beelzebub. He’s as attractive as the first time you saw him, so nope, your brain had not been making things up.

“This was accidentally delivered to me,” you say, holding out the bag, and Beelzebub brightens, taking it from you. Like the box, he handles the weight with ease, muscles flexing under his shirt.

“I’m so sorry about that,” he says. “I don’t even know how they get our apartments mixed up. The letters are clearly displayed.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reply easily. “It happens. What um, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, same old same old,” Beelzebub says. “Work, school, et cetera. It’s just been pretty busy.”

“Believe me, I get it.” Your mind flashes back to how hectic your days have been as of late. “Where do you go to school?”

A funny look crosses his face and you hope you haven’t somehow misstepped. That was a pretty normal question to ask, right?

“I’m currently virtual,” Beelzebub explains. “It’s an Academy down, er, south. My brothers and I all go there, but the rest of them are on campus for the most part. Although, they do come to visit me. Speaking of,” he adds, eyes widening, “they can be a pretty crazy bunch so if you ever run into them just keep that in mind. Take anything they say with a grain of salt. They love teasing me.”

“I will,” you say, chucking a little. You can’t imagine what they’d be like and hope, even though it’s pretty improbable, that you’ll get to meet them. “Do you have a big family, then? And it sounds like you and your brothers are close.”

“Well, including me, there’s seven of us,” Beelzebub says, ducking his head a little at your noise of amazement. “And we have our issues like any family, but for the most part, it’s okay. I’m closest with my twin, Belphegor.”

“A twin!” you exclaim, delighted. “That must be nice! And that’s a lot of brothers. Are you guys like right in the middle, or…?”

“Youngest,” Beelzebub says. “Well, Belphie is, but he hates being reminded of that.” His smile is fond and soft, and you feel yourself melting a little. “And you’re correct, that is a lot. I love them all but being here is kind of nice.”

“I’d imagine so,” you agree before stepping back a little, not wanting to steal his attention for too long. “Anyway, it’s been nice talking to you, but I should probably let you get to dinner. Enjoy your food!”

“Oh!” Beelzebub looks surprised, like he’s completely forgotten about his delivery. “I will. Thanks again for bringing it over.”

“Yeah, because my journey was so far,” you joke, and Beelzebub’s laugh follows you all of the way back into your apartment. Once your door is closed and locked, you lean up against it, heart pounding.

You’ve only met him twice, and both times were so brief, but you feel inexplicably drawn to him. He’s just so polite and cool, and something is undeniably different about him, something you can't put your finger on. It drew you in all the same.

Shaking yourself, you go back to your couch, pressing play on your show. It’s easier going back to this than going back to moving in was, and so you fall back into watching, losing yourself in the familiar plot.

A few days later, your alarm goes off, and you open your eyes, wishing you didn’t have to get up. So distracted by your musing you almost miss the large spider right above your face, hanging from the ceiling. Almost.

You freeze, and it drops.

A scream escapes you as you scrub over your face, rolling right off of your bed and onto the floor. You frantically make sure it’s not on you before calming down slightly, though your heart is still racing. You become aware of knocking on the door, and Beelzebub calling to you through it.

“MC? Is everything okay in there? I heard you scream and there was a large crash.”

Before he can get any ideas, like to call the police, you wrench the door open, pasting on a wobbly smile. “Hey,” you manage, breathless.

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking you over. “Did something happen?”

“I’m okay,” you say reassuringly, “I’m sorry for the scare. I woke up to a spider in my face is all.”

Beelzebub’s face softens, some of the tension draining out of him. Had he really been so worried about you? “I’m sorry that happened,” he says seriously, “but I’ll admit I’m glad it’s not anything worse. You really freaked me out.”

You groan. “Yeah, I can imagine. Did I wake you?”

Beelzebub looks down at his sweats and a plain t-shirt, letting out a little chuckle. “Yeah, but don’t worry too much about it. I get up around this time anyway.” He looks around. “Hey, I like what you’ve done with the place, it looks great.”

Remembering he’d only seen your moving-in mess and not your actual, finished apartment, you step aside, inviting him in. “Thank you. Would you like some coffee or anything? I have cream and sugar and all that.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve got to get on with your day,” Beelzebub says reluctantly, and you shake your head.

“Nope, I’ve actually got nothing planned. I just get up early out of habit. But if you’ve got something, don’t let me keep you.”

“I don’t,” Beelzebub says, “so if you’re sure.”

“It’s the least I can do after waking you up and everything,” you say, beckoning him towards your kitchen island. You pour out two cups then pull out the creamer, milk, and sugar, offering them to Beelzebub. Once both of your coffees are made to your liking, you lean against the counter, cradling the cup in your hands.

“You’re also welcome to any fruit,” you offer, nodding at the fruit bowl on the counter, “and I’m pretty sure I have some croissants tucked away somewhere.”

“That would be great,” Beelzebub replies. You pull out the bakery bag, handing it to him. He takes one, and the next thing you know, it’s gone. You’ve never seen anyone eat that fast.

Speaking of fast, you think, how did he get over to my door so fast? It had only been a few seconds after you screamed that he had knocked on your door. And if you really woke him up as he claimed, it would have been practically impossible for him to make it all the way to you.

Shooting a suspicious glance over at him, you watch him devour an apple with ease, humming contentedly as he does. What are you thinking? It probably took longer for you to regain your senses than you thought it did. Yes, that must have been it.

“Hold the elevator please,” someone calls, and instinctively, you do as you’re asked, sticking your arm out. Two guys shuffle in, the one in front giving you a bright smile.

“Thank you so much,” he says, running a hand through his strawberry blond hair. “This elevator is so slow, and I’m not really in the mood to climb the stairs.”

The other one jostles the first, green eyes hard. “Shut up, idiot. People don’t just talk to each other randomly.”

Something about his phrasing seems weird, but honestly, the whole situation kind of is, so you just give them a vague smile, shifting your eyes down and away from them. Their conversation continues in hushed whispers that are, unfortunately, completely audible to you.

“Satan, they’re going to the fifth floor too! Do you think-”

“Shut up,” green-eyes, or Satan, you suppose, hisses. “You’re so annoying, Asmo. It’s like you forget how to act when you’re away for too long.”

Asmo pouts, but thankfully, the elevator chimes, signaling your floor before you’re forced to be in an enclosed space with them any longer. You walk to your door with purposeful strides, aware of them somewhat behind you. As you unlock your door, checking back over your shoulder to gauge their position every so often, Beelzebub’s swings open.

“MC, hey,” he says, clearly startled. He then looks around you. “Satan, Asmo, what are you two doing?”

You follow his gaze back to the pair, who look like they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Beel!” Asmo cheers, hastening forward to Beelzebub. “We’re here! Haven't you missed us?”

“Debatable,” Beelzebub says, though his ears are tinged red as he makes eye contact with you again. You realize you’re staring and look away, twisting your key the rest of the way.

“And is this your neighbor?” Asmo asks, and you look up again, realizing he’s talking to? about? you.

“Yes, and they look like they’re in a hurry, so let’s not bother them,” Beelzebub says, sending you an apologetic look. From behind you, Satan snorts.

“Oh,” Asmo says, drooping. “But surely a little introduction wouldn’t hurt?” He looks up at Beelzebub with pleading eyes and though they’re not even directed at you, you can feel himself bending under his will slightly.

“Um, I’m MC,” you venture as the silence stretches, and Asmo’s attention snaps to you.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” he enthuses, shaking your hand delicately. “I’m Asmodeus, and behind you is Satan. We’re Beel’s brothers.”

Aside from their unearthly beauty, they look nothing alike. Beelzebub towers over both of them and they all have varying eye and hair colors. Are they even blood-related?

It’s rude to speculate on something like that, so you push the thought away, giving Asmo - Asmodeus - a smile. “It’s nice to meet you too. Are you guys visiting Beelzebub?”

“Yes, but if I’d have known his new little neighbor was so cute, I’d have come a lot sooner,” Asmodeus says, and you blink. Wow, okay, you’re being flirted with, right? As he stares at you, his eyes almost seem to glow, but that’s definitely just a trick of the light.

“Stop it,” Satan says, moving around you to stand next to Asmodeus. “I’m sorry about him. He’s a charmer, but don’t pay him any mind.”

“Okay,” you say hesitantly, looking between the three of them. Asmodeus frowns a little, and you see Beelzebub and Satan exchanging looks. You were reminded of when Beelzebub had told you about his brothers- he was right, they are weird. “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” you say, “and again, it was nice meeting you.”

They let you go then, thankfully, and you’re left to your thoughts as you hear Beelzebub’s door close too. What an odd bunch, you think, kicking off your shoes. Really, you’d thought Beelzebub had been exaggerating, but after this… well, probably not. And this was only two of his six brothers! What were the rest of them like, and what had their childhood been like, to make them all so different?

Telling yourself it was none of your business, you decide to make lunch, setting your phone on the counter. You haven't been cooking long before it buzzes, so you lean over, checking the message.

It’s Beelzebub!

Beelzebub: Hey, I’m sorry if Asmo made you uncomfortable. He can be a lot when you first meet him :/

You: no worries! he seems like an eclectic character, but it works for him haha

Beelzebub: This may seem like a weird question, but did you feel anything when he was looking at you earlier?

You pause to consider the question. Is he jealous, asking if you were interested in his brother? The thought sends a tingle down your spine, but that doesn’t seem exactly right. Beelzebub’s never seemed like the jealous type, and he seems almost cautious.

You: no? should I have?

Beelzebub: No, nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure he didn't make you

Beelzebub: Uncomfortable, or something.

You: not at all lol

A few minutes go by and you assume Beelzebub’s finished with the conversation. Returning to your abandoned lunch, you finish up cooking, deciding to sit at the island and eat. You can hear muffled sounds from Beelzebub’s apartment, which is a rarity. Usually, he’s so silent you hardly know if he’s there or not. It must be his brothers’ influence, as most of it sounds like laughter.

Time flies by as you fall into a routine, settling fully into your new apartment. You run into Beelzebub here and there, along with some of your other neighbors, but really, there’s not another incident that forces you together like the ones in the past. You’re a little disappointed, but saying hello to him in the hall is pretty nice, especially since he always gives you this sweet, excited smile.

You haven’t met any more of his brothers, unfortunately, but the memory of Asmodeus and Satan never fails to bring a smile to your face. You wonder if Beelzebub had talked about you to them, if that’s why Asmodeus had been so insistent on talking to you. It’s an odd thought, especially paired with the general weirdness that had surrounded him, but definitely not an unwelcome one.

“Excuse me,” someone says, startling you from your thoughts. You apologize and move out of the way, realizing you had been blocking the produce. This isn’t the first time you’ve been distracted thinking about Beelzebub, but it never fails to embarrass you when it happens.

Finishing up your shopping, you carry the bags back to your apartment building, enjoying the walk. It’s a nice day, and the bustle of the city is comforting and lively. Your building isn’t far from the store, so it doesn't take you long at all to step into the lobby, heading right for the elevator.

There’s a guy in there when you step in, slouched against the wall, but he pays you no mind so you do the same, glad your floor is already pressed so you don't have to ask him to press it. The elevator begins moving upwards like normal, but somewhere around the third floor it jolts to a stop, and you catch yourself on the hand railing. You look over at the guy, just as the lights go out.

You swear they’re glowing a faint purple color, but before you can determine if your eyes are just playing tricks on you due to the sudden darkness, the backup lights kick on, illuminating everything dimly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, and the guy raises an eyebrow.

“Does this happen often?”

It doesn’t, actually, and you tell him as much. You’ve never had any problems with the elevator before this- sure, it was old, but you’d never got stuck or heard of anyone else getting stuck in it!

“Try the emergency phone,” you say, and the guy leans down, opening up the panel. He pulls the phone off of the receiver, but you’re dismayed to hear an odd, prolonged beep instead of the dial tone. “Crap, okay. I’m going to call my neighbor and tell him we’re stuck in here so he can let the landlady know.”

He simply nods so you pull up Beelzebub’s contact, pressing call. It only rings a few times before he thankfully picks up.

“MC? What’s up?”

“I’m stuck in the elevator,” you say, and hear him inhale sharply. “We seem stable enough, so I’m not super concerned about it, but I want to get out of here.”

“Tell him the phone doesn't work,” the guy says, and you nod.

“Who was that,” Beelzebub asks, apparently able to hear him.

"The guy who's also in here." You give the guy an awkward smile, feeling rude for talking about him when he can hear. “What’s your name,” you ask, and the guy yawns before answering.

“Belphegor.”

You repeat the name to Beelzebub, who makes a weird noise.

“Okay, weird coincidence, but I think you’re in there with my twin.” Beelzebub’s voice sounds a little strangled. You jerk your head over to Belphegor, who’s staring at the ground tiredly. He looks nothing like Beelzebub, but then again, neither did Asmodeus or Satan, and really, it’s not like he has a common name.

“No way,” you say, before raising your voice slightly. “Hey, are you related to Beelzebub?”

Belphegor’s eyes snap to yours, and again, you’re reminded of that eerie purple glow. Once is easy enough to pass off, but both his and Asmodeus’ eyes glowing? Weird.

Bigger problems, you remind yourself.

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m on the phone with him right now,” you say, putting Beelzebub on speakerphone. “Say hello.”

“Beel?” Belphegor asks. “This is your neighbor?”

“Uh, yes?” Beelzebub says. “Has Asmodeus been running his mouth again?”

“He always does.” Belphegor rolls his eyes. “Anyway, can you get us out of here? We’ve got to get to that meeting.”

Beelzebub chuckles. “Sure thing. I’ll call you back when I contact who I need to. Hang on.”

Beelzebub hands up then, leaving you and Belphegor in silence. “So, you’re his twin?” you venture and Belphegor flicks his bangs out of his eyes.

“I am. And you’re his neighbor. MC, right?”

Beelzebub must talk about you! Or Asmodeus, based on what Beelzebub had said on the phone. Either way, it was a thrilling thing to be aware of.

“That I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

You continue chatting for a few more minutes before you feel your phone buzz and eagerly answer it, putting Beelzebub on speakerphone once again.

“Bad news,” Beelzebub says, and your heart drops. What could he mean by that? “The landlady won’t answer. My next step is to call the fire department but I thought I should let you guys know first.”

“The fire department?” you echo, dismayed. The one time the landlady isn’t picking up…

“Beelzebub, we don’t have that kind of time,” Belphegor says. “We need to get to R.A.D. ASAP. Are we sure we can’t just tell them? There’s no other way.”

Tell you what?

“Lucifer’ll want to kill us,” Beelzebub says, and Belphegor shrugs, even though Beelzebub can’t see him.

“That’s nothing new. But really, you like them, don’t you? And they don’t seem like the type to blab.”

“I don’t appreciate being spoken about as if I’m not there,” you say, more firmly than you feel. “If one of you could please explain, that’d be great.”

“Sorry, MC,” Beelzebub apologizes, putting you a little bit at ease. “Belphie and I have an appointment we simply can not miss. It’s a matter of interworld diplomacy. What Belphie is about to do, you can’t tell anyone.”

Interworld diplomacy? “What’s he going to do?”

“Teleportation,” Belphegor answers, and your jaw drops.

“Okay, you guys are officially crazy,” you say, and Belphegor sighs. “Oh, god, I’m trapped in an elevator with an insane person.”

“We’re not crazy,” Beelzebub promises. “Look, just let Belphegor do his thing and you’ll be out of the elevator, safe and sound. Doesn’t that sound nice.”

Despite the ludicrousness of the entire situation, you can't help but trust Beelzebub, at least a little bit. “Fine,” you eventually say. “Please make this quick.”

You don’t believe you’re actually going to get teleported- after all, who would? - but it can't hurt to comply. You hang up the phone and Belphegor takes your hand, making you swallow nervously. What is he going to do?

Belphegor mutters something, too low for you to hear, and before you know it, you’re enveloped in that same glowing purple light you’d seen in his eyes earlier. You can’t describe how it feels to be displaced like that. It’s incredibly disorienting and when you get to your destination, you stumble. Beelzebub catches you as you look around wildly.

“You’re in my apartment,” Beelzebub soothes, and you realize that you are, in fact, where he says.

“Holy shit,” you say, “I just got teleported. What is wrong with you guys?”

“That’s not a very nice thing to say to someone who just got you out of a stuck elevator,” Belphegor says with another yawn. “But for your information, we’re demons.”

You stagger away from Beelzebub, sitting heavily on his couch. “Demons,” you echo reedily. “Of course.”

“I know this is a big shock,” Beelzebub says, “but it’s the truth. I’m Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony, and Belphie is the Avatar of Sloth. Satan and Asmo are Wrath and Lust, respectively.”

“Demons,” you say again. “Okay. Um, do you guys like, eat people?”

Beelzebub winces. “Um, only their souls. And only every once in a while. But!” he continues, seeing your expression, “I swear they’re bad people. And there’s a lot of paperwork involved. It’s definitely not my favorite activity.”

You put a hand to your forehead. “Wow. This is a lot.”

Beelzebub nods seriously. “I get that. If you don’t want to ever talk to me I understand.”

You look at him, meeting those now familiar eyes. His face is as open and sincere as always, and you're reminded of just how good he is. You don’t really know anything about demons, but none of them had seemed like agents of the underworld. He, and his brothers, had all been pretty cool.

“I don’t want that,” you admit. “But no more teleporting, got that?”

Relief breaks out across Beelzebub’s face. “Got it. Thank you for not running out of here screaming. Very few humans know about us.”

“So is there like a whole community of you or something?” you ask, but before Beelzebub can respond, Belphegor clears his throat.

“Beel, we’ve got to get to that meeting.”

“You’re right.” Beelzebub sighs. “MC, I promise I’ll answer any questions you have once we get back. You’re welcome to wait here if you wish, but of course, you can go back to your apartment too. It may take some time for us to return since I’ll have to file an incident report with Lucifer, my oldest brother, but I’ll text you when I’m almost done.”

“Okay,” you agree warily, and before you know it, Beelzebub and Belphegor are stepping through another purple portal. You’ve seen and experienced it, but you’re still having a hard time believing that people can freaking teleport.

Deciding you really need your bed, you make the trek back to your apartment, putting the almost forgotten about grocery bags on the counter. You let out a muffled yell into your blankets before rolling over onto your back. Fact: Beelzebub was a demon. Fact: Beelzebub was one of the sweetest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Okay, so what if they’re demons? you rationalize. It’s weird, yes, and unbelievable, but real, as proven by you getting freaking teleported. You’d always prided yourself on your ability to just roll with things so you could just add this to the list. Magic and demons and soul-eating we’re all things you could come to terms with.

Really, you almost think something’s wrong with you. You’re freaked, but not nearly as much as you should be. You’d already been picking up on weird things, like the fast, unexplainable movements, or the glowing eyes crap. You had been fine hanging with him when you had known that Beelzebub was a little strange, but now that you had a name for it you were being a chicken? Absolutely not.

The reveal hadn’t made a dent in the attraction you felt for Beelzebub. Really, your emotions were the same, it was just your mind that was struggling to come to terms with everything. You definitely still wanted to interact with Beelzebub, and really, it seemed like he wanted that too, so the only thing you could do - you would do - is get over it.

Mind made up, you rolled back out of bed. Beelzebub had said he was the Avatar of Gluttony, right? That surely applied to food, you think, remembering how you’d seen him eat. Maybe you could make him something.

When Beelzebub came back, Belphegor in tow, you were ready for them. You spent a long time discussing things, but in the end, you all agreed that this was okay, and it didn’t really change anything. You and Beelzebub were still friends, and now you were cool with Belphegor too, so everything was just fine.

(“Belphie,” Belphegore had said. “Call me Belphie.”

“Oh, if you’re doing that then call me Beel,” Beelzebub added, and you beamed at the both of them.)

They explained everything that was happening between the and Lucifer who was, apparently, pretty pissed that they had revealed themselves to you. According to Belphie, he’d been ready to punish them both when the prince of the entire realm had pardoned them. And oh yeah, the prince wanted to meet you, so that was something you’d be doing.

But really, everything was fine and you went to bed that night happy, a new contact for Belphie on your phone.

Which has led you to this: Asmodeus blowing up your phone, because, somehow, he’d gotten your number from Belphie.

“Who’s texting you so much?” Beel asks you, and you flip your screen to show him.

“Your brother. He sure is funny.” You’re not being serious, exactly, but Beelzebub’s eyes still snap to yours.

“He is? Not annoying? MC, I can get him to stop texting you if you want.”

His weird tone catches your attention and you frown. “No, it’s fine. Beel,” you say slowly, almost disbelieving, “are you jealous?”

Beel shrugs, looking down. “So what if I am? You were my, uh, friend first and I don’t want your attention to be monopolized.”

You squint at him. You’re pretty sure he likes you, and you don't exactly hide how you feel about him, but you hadn’t yet found the need to directly address it, liking the current relationship you have just fine.

There had been a shift, after your big talk about the demon thing, like he felt like he could finally be completely open with you. You’ve just been doing your best to take it in stride, something you hope he’s appreciated.

“Well, don’t worry about that,” you promise him. “You’re always going to be my favorite.”

Beel blushes then, and you hide your smile as you return to your phone, continuing the conversation with Asmodeus. You feel his eyes on you every once in a while, so you look up, smiling gently. You never could have thought that buying this apartment would have led to this whole new world and a guy like you’ve never found before. It’s amazing, really, and you don’t regret it for one second.

“What are you thinking about?” Beel asks, and you turn towards him.

“Why?”

“You’ve just got this look on your face. It’s really… I can’t explain it, but it's good.”

You laugh. “I’m thinking about how lucky I am to have met you. I can hardly imagine life without you and your brothers.”

“My time with you has been some of my best time on this earth,” Beel says, and the admission shocks you. You’ve been learning more and more about his history, so you know he’s had a lot of time. “And speaking of, some of my other brothers want to meet you. And Diavolo’s been asking about you.”

“As in, me to go down to the Devildom?”

Beel nods. “If you want. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable, though, so if you’d prefer to meet up here that’s viable too.”

“I’d love to go done there and meet everyone. Plus, I’d like to see your home and see you in your home element.” You stretch, cracking your back. “I’ve heard so much about this demon form that I’ve found I’m quite curious.”

“It’s not that cool,” Beel says, and you lean over to jab at him, lightly. You don’t want to break your fingers on his muscles, after all.

“Don’t say that! I’m sure it’s very cool!”

“Alright, alright,” Beel acquiesces, laughing. “I’ll start planning a visit then. It’s been too long since I’ve been down there for anything but business.”

“Good.”

Weekend bag packed, you knock on the door to Beel’s apartment, nervously gripping the strap. You’re reminded of the first time you had done this, when the food delivery service had gone to the wrong address. It feels like so long ago!

“You ready?” Beel asks, opening the door. “I’ve got everything set up.”

“Let’s do this,” you say, with a little more confidence than you feel. You’re still not that comfortable with magic, and the idea of meeting everyone is a little nerve-wracking. But you’re excited, too.

“Awesome,” Beel says, leading you to the living room. He performs the same incantation (you think that’s what it’s called?) as Belphie had, and a portal opens up. It’s red, this time, and you wonder if that has to do with the fact that it was Beel who made it. You’ll have to ask at some point.

Beel takes your hand, and you warm at the touch. His palm is rough and his hand almost dwarves yours, reminding you of just how large Beel is, something you’d grown used to in your time spent with him. He gives you another one of those earnest, sweet grins and waits for you to step through, letting you go at your own pace.

It’s less disorienting, this time, maybe because you’ve teleported once before, but it’s still a shock to look around and see a place so odd-looking. The sky is dark and red-tinges, and a large manor stands in front of you, dead trees ringed around it. A crow, or something like it, caws in the distance, and involuntarily, you shiver.

“All right?” Beel asks, and you nod.

“So this is the Devildom, huh? It’s really cool!”

“I’m glad you think so.” Beel makes no move to pull his hand from yours so you keep yours there as well. “This is my brothers and I’s home, the House of Lamentation.”

“Sick name,” you murmur as Beel leads you through the thick, wrought iron gate. Brown grass covers the ground, and bushes and other plants edge the house, but they’re nothing like you’ve ever seen before. it’s absolutely amazing. As you get up closer to the house, someone opens the door and welcomes you in.

“Hello,” he says, “I am Lucifer, eldest and Avatar of Pride. It is an honor to meet you.” His sharp red eyes flick down to your joined hands and you sheepishly pull away to shake his hand.

“It’s very nice to meet you too,” you say. “I’m MC. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer says. “Everyone is in the sitting room if you’d like to proceed there.”

He’s much more old-fashioned than his brothers, but it suits him well. He leads you through the twisting halls with ease, pace measured. You trail behind, looking at everything with wide eyes. Only Beel’s hand on your back keeps you from slowing to a stop to examine anything further.

Everyone stands when you walk in, and you notice Asmodeus sending you a fluttering wave. You return it, making him beam. You go through introductions and it’s nice to finally be able to put a face to some of the names. You feel like you know them all already, at least a little bit, from Beel’s stories and anecdotes.

“And this is Lord Diavolo,” Lucifer says, gesturing to a red-headed man. He grins at you, canines sharp in the light.

“Um, I’m afraid I don’t know the rules here, so should I bow or something?" you ask, and he laughs.

“Not it all. It’s so nice to finally meet you! When the twins told me they revealed themselves to you, I was so surprised. They tend to stick to themselves and are pretty fastidious in their efforts to remain concealed.”

“As I said, it was an emergency,” Belphie intones, and Diavolo laughs again.

“I know, I know. I’m merely teasing. I think it’s nice Beelzebub’s made a friend. Or maybe more,” he amends, raising an eyebrow, and your cheeks heat.

You spend the next few minutes getting to know them all better before Diavolo sighs, lacing his fingers together. “MC, I’ll admit I had a special reason for wanting to meet you. I think it’s time Beelzebub comes back to the Devildom.”

Your stomach drops. Never in a million years could you have imagined that this is what he wanted to talk with you about!

“Wha-” Beel begins, but you cut him off.

“Of course. I understand. Beel is very important to you all and does important work for the Devildom. I totally get it.” Your hands are clenched into fists and you have to choke the words out.

“No, please, you didn't let me finish,” Diavolo says concernedly. “I wanted to invite you to take part in an exchange program. You’d join us down here for a year, attending our school. It’s part of my diplomacy plan to bring this, the human realm, and the angel realm closer together.”

The relief you feel is heady; you can barely hear him over your heartbeat, elation soaring through you.

“Now, I’d understand if you needed some time to think about it,” Diavolo continues. “A year is a long time and you have a life up in the human realm.”

“No,” you blurt out. “I’d love it.”

Diavolo grins again, clapping his hands. “Great! I’m glad we got that out of the way. I’ll have Barbatos draw up the paperwork and get you all of the official information and everything, but for now, we should continue to talk!”

Conversation flows easily and freely among you all. All of the brothers are so different and fun and you can easily see yourself falling into place among them. It almost feels as if you were meant for this, meant to be with them. But no, you’re just being silly.

Beel seems so happy with them. Even when he’s not talking, he’s got a little smile on your face, paying attention to whoever's speaking. It’s cute, and he definitely catches you looking at him more than once.

Eventually, real life catches up with them all, and you break apart so everyone can take care of their business. For you that's getting settled into your room, making yourself at home. It’s the first time you and Beel have been alone since you’d arrived, and you can’t help but wonder what he thought of your decision to join the exchange program.

“This is wonderful!” you gush, looking at the tree in the middle of the room. “Everything is so cool.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Beel says, rubbing the back of his head. “You know, since you’ll be here for a whole year and all.”

“Are you okay with that?” you ask seriously. “I said yes but if you’d rather me not come down here then I’d totally respect that too.”

“Of course I am!” Beel exclaims. “Why would you think that! I’d love having you down here, I love y-” He cuts off suddenly, snapping his mouth shut, eyes wide. You gape at him. There’s only one thing that that sentence could have finished with, and though you’ve known he’s liked you, you had no idea his feelings ran that deep.

Not that you’re complaining, though.

“What was that?’ you ask sweetly, drawing up closer to him. His ears are red again.

“I, um, like you a lot,” Beel says, and you can’t stop a smile from spreading across your face.

“I like you a lot too.” You’re almost in his space then, but he doesn’t look like he particularly minds. “I’m glad we’re on the same page, then. Otherwise, this would be a bit awkward.”

Pulling him down to your level is a bit awkward, but Beel complies easily enough. His lips are warm, like the rest of him, and slightly chapped. All in all, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had and you don’t hesitate to take a second, then a third, continuing until you lose count.

“Was that okay?” you ask, looking up at him. “I probably should have asked or something.”

“More than okay,” Beel replies, cupping your jaw with his hand. It makes your heart race like the first time you’d seen him and you hope that feeling never goes away. “MC, I-”

Whatever he’s going to say gets cut off again, this time, by someone else.

“Whoah!” Mammon says from the doorway. “Ya should've shut the door if you were going to do that. Wait a damn minute, you two are doing that! I won the bet!” He cackles. “I’m rich.”

“Go away, Mammon,” Beel says, pushing the door shut. Vaguely, you can still hear him crowing about his victory, but soon enough you’re distracted by Beel kissing you again.

As he pulls you into him, wrapping those strong arms around you, you think Ah, life is good . You’re about to spend a year in the coolest place ever, with the coolest people ever, and you’re kissing your boyfriend? partner? (whatever, you’ll figure that out later) who’s the hottest guy you’d ever laid your eyes on. You’ve never felt more thankful for your dumb decision to carry more than you were able to.

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seidenbros · 2 years

Note

Hi! Would you be up for writing a little something where Eddie and reader have never gotten along but for some reason find themselves stuck indoors during a storm and it’s cold/power goes out so… need to huddle for warmth. And the more they bicker, the more turned on they get. Would love angst-to-smut (couldn’t even pick a prompt from the “make me go feral” list but all are perfect) if possible! Thank you ❤️

Hello, my love! THIS was a wonderful request and I was so eager to get on it, you have no idea. You mean this list, right? YES! It's so great, that I chose a couple of prompts that I put into this. Didn't expect it to go this way and to bring out a bit of soft Dom Eddie, but here we are. Hope you enjoy 💚

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Word count: 4983

Prompts: Louder. Let me hear you. | Shut up! Make Me! (a variation of this)| Spread your legs wider. | Keep your eyes on me. | Don ‘t hold back.

Warning/Tags: angst to smut, kinda soft Dom Eddie, light praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), oral sex (female receveiving), thunderstorm, come eating, (let me know if I missed anything) | 18+ MINORS DNI

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I'll Keep You Warm

“Great… fucking great,” you mumbled to yourself while leaving the school, shouldering your backpack while running a hand through your hair. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you had to do this biology assignment at all, you had to do it with Eddie Munson of all people. Eddie Munson who skipped classes whenever he felt like it, who had been through all this before, and who had to be present today of all days. If he hadn’t been there, you would have been paired up with someone else. Your teacher had just shrugged her shoulders, because you’d been paired up by her drawing your names out of a hat. Ridiculous. If Eddie hadn’t been there, his name wouldn’t have been in that fucking hat.

“Y/N! For fuck’s sake, wait up!” Eddie called after you, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t exactly happy about this situation as well, but since you hadn’t been able to talk your teacher out of it, you were stuck with him. And he wasn’t going to be the one responsible for you failing this assignment because he bailed on you. Yes, you two didn’t really get along, but he didn’t want you to hate him even more.

“What?” you asked when he caught up with you, slowing down your pace to walk alongside him, but you didn’t stop.

“Where are you going?” Eddie kept his eyes on you while walking, trying to figure out what was going on in your head and shield himself from anything you might throw his way.

“To my car?” Wasn’t it obvious? “I want to get started with this assignment as quickly as possible so I won’t have to think about it anymore. You don’t need to do anything. Since we’re stuck on this together, I can do the work and we can both take credit for that.”

“No.” Eddie shook his head, pushed his hands into his pockets and started walking faster to keep up with you.“What do you mean ‘no’?” When you reached your car, you stopped, turning to look at him. You’d just given him an opportunity to back out of this whole situation, and he didn’t want that?

“Did you forget?” He held up the polaroid camera for you to see, because you had been told to take pictures of your progress and pictures of yourselves as memories. “Appreciate the easy way out, but we’re in this together. And I don’t want you telling everyone that I’m responsible for a bad grade, because I didn’t participate.” Eddie rounded your car and stopped at the passenger side, looking over at you. “So, you’re stuck with me for the afternoon. The sooner we get to work, the sooner we can both go our separate ways again.”

“Shit,” you mumbled to yourself. You’d completely forgotten about the photos, and while you could each take your own photos alone, you were sure that your teacher would find out in the end. It was just one afternoon. You’d sat through lessons with Eddie where he’d gnawed at your nerves before, so you were already prepared for the worst. “Fine… You take care of the camera, I’ll take notes and the samples.”

With that being established, Eddie and you climbed into your car and got on your way to Lover’s Lake. You felt Eddie’s eyes on you now and then, but didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t bicker about your music, which was a good sign, but you were sure that you’d butt heads again in a matter of minutes. It had always been like this with the two of you, and you couldn’t even really say why or how it had started. When you said right, he said left, and sometimes it felt like it was just out of spite, to get on your nerves. But you did the same, when he had an opinion on something, you had a different one.

Once you’d parked your car along the lake, you gathered everything you’d need and got out. You had to gather samples from the water from around the lake, label them, and then do some tests to see if there were differences, depending on where you were around the lake. Ridiculous in your opinion, a waste of time, but… it hadn’t been your choice, you’d been assigned this stupid thing.

“We better hurry.” Eddie nodded towards the sky that was turning darker and darker. The weather forecast had talked about rain, wind, even a storm coming, but that wasn’t until tomorrow.

“You’re right…” One thing you could agree on at least. And so, you started in one direction along the lake, taking your samples, labelling them, marking on the map where which sample had been taken.

For half an hour you worked your way along the lake, made it nearly halfway around when you heard thunder crack through the silence. Your eyes met Eddie’s for a moment, but then you got back to work. It was probably still far enough away for you to make it back, right?

Eddie had already taken a couple of photos, most of them from you at work. When he took the next one, though, it was suddenly rather bright, and it wasn’t the flash from the camera. No, it was lightning, followed nearly immediately by thunder.

“Shit,” he mumbled to himself and put the camera in his backpack when the first drops of rain hit his head. He looked up before he looked over at you, more and more raindrops falling down, rippling through the water. Big droplets of water that soaked through your clothes immediately and cooled your body down.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain until later or tomorrow!” you complained, as if that would change anything about the situation at hand. You put everything back in your backpack and looked around. The trees gave you little shelter, but it was better than standing here by the water, even though you were already soaked to your skin, the first gust of wind sending a shiver down your spine.

“Come on!” Eddie took hold of your hand and started walking swiftly in one direction. You fought the first instinct to pull your hand out of his grasp, because you really didn’t want to stay alone right here.

“Where are we going?” you yelled over the sound of the pouring rain, blinking against the water on your eyes to stay focused on him, see where he was going.

“A friend’s house. At least it’s dry there,” Eddie called back, pulling you along, but making sure that you could keep up. The situation was bad enough as it was, so he really didn’t want you to bust your ankle or anything.

And like he’d said, there was the house at the lake, a place that promised warmth and at least a roof over your head so you could get out of the rain. Eddie positioned you in front of the door, before he rummaged through something next to the door. You didn’t know what and you didn’t care, because he came up with a key to unlock the front door and let both of you inside.

“Thank God,” you whispered, turning towards Eddie who was closing the door. “Your friend won’t mind?”

“Nah. He’s… indisposed.” Eddie chuckled to himself, pushing his wet hair back from his face.He turned on the lights and looked around. Rick never had a lot of things here, but at least some essentials.

“I won’t ask any more questions.” You shook your head, trying to hide your smile. You had a vague idea what he meant with that, but right now, you were just happy that you were in here, especially when you heard the wind outside rattling the windows and even the front door. It looked like the storm they’d been talking about had come early.

“Come on.” Eddie motioned for you to follow him when he walked up the stairs, and you did. A shiver ran through your body, the cold slowly seeping into your bones, so you were eager to find a way to warm up.

Eddie led you to Rick’s bedroom and he opened the wardrobe. Your first instinct was to walk over to the heater, but it was already turned on - but ice cold. Fuck… that was not gonna work, but that also meant that you probably didn’t have any warm water here. Maybe they’d turned it off due to Rick not being here.

“Take off your clothes,” Eddie said over his shoulder, pulling a blanket and a sweatshirt from the wardrobe. There wasn’t anything else in there, and it frustrated him. Then again, he was glad that there was actually something you could use.

“Excuse me?!” you squeaked, your eyes boring into the back of his head. Your cheeks started to burn because of his words.

“Relax!” Eddie turned around, rolling his eyes at you, while he took off his own jacket, let his shirt follow straight away. He tossed a towel your way, used the other one to dry off his hair and face as much as possible, which resulted in his hair sticking up in all kinds of directions. “You have to get out of the wet clothes or you’ll catch a cold. You’re already shivering, so… The sweater is yours if you want it. Rick doesn’t have a lot in here as it seems.”

You took the towel and did the same as him, tried to dry your hair and face. You knew that he was right, but you were still hesitant - and couldn’t stop yourself from ogling him while he took off his jeans as well, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

“Like what you see?”

His words made you look up again, but despite the heat creeping up to your cheeks again, you felt a rush of confidence.

“Can’t blame a girl for looking.” You shrugged your shoulders before you dropped your backpack to the floor. Your jacket and sweater follow immediately, leaving you in your rad lace bra, your nipples poking against the material because of the cold. You could feel Eddie’s eyes on you, but you didn’t say anything. After all, you’d looked at him as well, it was only fair that he got to look as well, right?

You noticed that Eddie reached for one of the blankets and wrapped it around his shoulder, while you took off your jeans, laid your clothes out over the heater even though it wasn’t on, but that way they might still dry faster.

“Didn’t pick you for the lacey kinda girl,” Eddie commented, letting his eyes wander over your body. You felt your pulse quicken, being this exposed to him. “Always thought you were more white cotton granny panties type.”

“What made you think that?” You tried not to sound offended, but you were.

“You’re always so uptight, like you don’t want to let anyone in your life.” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, still enjoying the view.

“I just try to focus on school so I won’t have to repeat the year and can get away from here as soon as possible.” You hadn’t wanted to offend him with your words, but it had definitely sounded like that - and you could see it in his eyes. The rumours about him had never interested you, you only judged by what you experienced yourself. You had no idea why he had to repeat the year, and it was none of your business anyway. “I just… want to get out of this hellhole and away from my family.” This was more than you’d wanted to tell him, but the words had just slipped out. Your parents weren’t exactly bad people, but they weren’t really supportive of you, so it was better to get away and finally live your life the way you wanted to. “Anyway, why are you even thinking about my panties?” That was a more interesting topic anyway, and it diverted the attention from what you’d just said.

“Wouldn’t you like to know…” Eddie said with a wink, watching you put that sweater he’d thrown your way over your head. The sleeves were a little too long, but at least you were wearing something more than just your underwear in this cold house. “Come one, maybe, we can find something else to warm us up downstairs.”

He handed you the other blanket before he walked ahead of you down the stairs. With a sigh, you followed him, but the only thing you found in Rick’s kitchen was some booze and spoiled milk in the fridge. Eddie opened the bottle to take a drag, before he handed it to you. Right now, you’d probably do anything to get a little warmer, even if the liquid burned all the way down your throat.

You heard a loud crack from outside, before the lights flickered and went off. You couldn’t suppress the shriek that escaped your lips at the sound, because you hadn’t expected it.

“Shitshitshitshit,” you mumbled, wrapping the blanket tighter around you. You closed your eyes and counted to five before you felt Eddie’s hands on your arms.

“Stay right here!”

Wide-eyed, you looked at him, but nodded. You leaned your back against the kitchen counter, taking deep breaths to calm down. This was a fucking mess, and you couldn’t get out of this situation. Your car was at the other end of the lake, there was nobody you could call right now, so you were stuck here with Eddie Munson, freezing your ass off.

“It’s completely busted,” Eddie announced when he came back, shaking his head. “No heating, no electricity… Everything’s out.” It was frustrating, but there was nothing you could do about it.

“Great… fucking great.” You heaved a sigh, rubbing one hand over your face, pushing your still damp hair back. Your fingers were still shaking, and the blanket only did so much to keep you warm.

“Come here!” Eddie said, opening the blanket around his shoulders for you. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him, that made him chuckle. “For someone so smart, you’re sometimes really slow.”

“Hey!” you protested, gasping at him. “And here I’d thought for a minute that you weren’t that bad Munson. And you just crushed that thought again.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. What an asshole.

“Now, now!” he chided, taking a step towards you. “You do know what helps best when you’re freezing?” He waited for any answer that didn’t come. You knew it, but you didn’t want to say it out loud. “Bodyheat.” Eddie provided the answer, stopping right in front of you, his blanket still open for you. For a moment, you weighed your options, but he was right. It was the best and fastest way to get warm, so you stepped into his embrace.

“Just so we’re clear, this is just for warmth!” you said to him, looking into his eyes.

“Sure.” Eddie couldn’t suppress the smile when he tilted his head to the side. “But you do know that it won’t work if you keep your own body wrapped up like this, right?”

“Yeah yeah..” you mumbled and opened the blanket, but then you took a step back again to take off the sweater you’d put on upstairs. Then you stepped up to him again, your side touching his, the blankets now wrapped around both of you. You could feel the heat radiating off him, and you hated to admit that it was rather soothing.

“This goddamn assignment,” you said after a moment, shaking your head. Eddie’s gaze was on you again, taking in your profile, wondering why you were so goddamn hot when you got so aggravated. “I don’t understand why we even have to work in teams instead of doing this shit alone. I could have been finished way sooner or just… started whenever.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault that we’re stuck here?”

“Well…” You hadn’t exactly said that, but you’d thought it. “If you hadn’t been in class for once, we wouldn’t be here together.”

“No, you’d probably be here with someone else, and then you wouldn’t have ended up in this house and you’d still be out there in the rain. So, you’re welcome.” Eddie turned to face you, eyes going darker, arms crossed beneath the blankets around you.

When you turned towards him as well, his elbow brushed your breast and you had to inhale sharply, not expecting your own body to react like this, to suddenly make you aware of how little both of you were wearing, how close you really were. And you certainly didn’t expect to get aroused by that look he was levelling at you.

“Or I could have been finished already and been on my way home when that fucking storm started!” You went toe to toe with him, your eyes boring into his.

“You really think that?” Eddie asked, his eyes dropping to your lips for the fraction of a second before he looked back up. “You wouldn’t even have made it this far with someone else!”

“Oh, please, this is ridiculous.” You rolled your eyes, pressing your thighs together, irritated with yourself that you were getting turned on by him, by this banter between you - but you liked it as well. It was new, interesting, made you curious. “I could have gotten Natalie or even Walter, and we would have made it around the lake sooner.” It was a lie, and not even a good one at that, but by now, you were pushing his buttons on purpose. “I mean, this whole project is just stupid altogether, and we shouldn’t even have to be out here, but well… here we are, stuck with each other.”

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” Eddie growled, pinching the bridge of his nose, his patience faltering, but his ears perked up at your next words.

“You’ll have to make me shut up, Munson.”

“Oh, I know a way to shut you up, missy.” His lips were on yours in a matter of seconds, devouring you, making you moan into the kiss. You’d provoked this, you knew it, and you were not at all sorry about it. The way his tongue thrust into your mouth was a promise of what else he was capable of doing with it, making your knees buckle. Your hands found his shoulders, clung onto them, onto him, while his hands roamed your sides, found their home on your waist for a moment, his thumbs brushing over your stomach.

“You enjoyed this, didn’t you?” he whispered against your lips, grinning to himself, before he placed open mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, leaving a wet trail behind. “Getting me all irritated with your words.” He ran his tongue over your clavicle, before he pushed the blankets off you both and lifted you onto the kitchen counter.

“Maybe,” you admitted, your eyes fluttering shut, your laboured breathing filling the room. “Don’t tell me you didn’t…”

Eddie pulled you towards the edge of the counter, flush against him, and you gasped when you felt the outline of his hard cock against your clothed heat.

“Been hiding this behind the blanket ever since you took off your shirt and I got a glimpse at this...” He leaned his head down, pulling your erect nipple into his mouth through the fabric, eliciting the most sinful moan out of your throat. You could feel his dick twitch at that. Your right hand came up to brush his hair from his face, fingers tangling in his hair.

“You look way too hot in this.” Eddie raised his head again, pressed a kiss to your lips while he worked at opening your bra. “Still has to come off!” He scraped his teeth over your bottom lip, making you shiver with that move. When the cold air hit your naked breasts, you shivered, but Eddie quickly filled his hands with your tits, rolling your nipples beneath his thumbs.

“Fuck… That’s so good,” you mumbled, moaning when he rutted his hips into you. While you enjoyed his hands, his lips on your body, there was something else you wanted, and so you reached for it, pushed your hand into his boxers and pulled his cock out of its confinements. Eddie’s fingers dug into your skin. You ran your thumb over the head of his cock, collecting his precome, smearing it along his length so your fingers glided over him easier. Eddie thrust into your fist once, twice, but then he had to pull back.

“If you keep going like this, I’m gonna come all over your stomach straight away.”

You moaned at the thought of that, bit your lip when your eyes met his.

“Oh you’d like that?” Eddie tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes wander over your body. Your nod was barely visible, but Eddie still picked up on it. “Good to know.”

He captured your lips in another searing kiss, before he got down on his knees in front of you.

“What are you doing?” you asked breathlessly, nibbling on your bottom lip.

“I showed you how I could shut you up, and now I’m gonna show you how I can make you scream with my mouth.” Eddie had the audacity to wink at you as he lifted your leg onto his shoulder, pressing kisses to the inside of your thigh. Your eyes closed at the pleasure you were feeling already, at the anticipation of what was to come.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Eddie demanded, pressing his teeth against the tender flesh to get your attention. And you did, you opened your eyes and watched him as he placed his opened mouth on your clothed pussy, his tongue pressing against you, hot and wet.

“Oh God… fuck,” you cursed, eyes nearly drifting shut, but the way Eddie’s grip on your thigh tightened made you open them immediately again. You wanted to do as you were told, but it was so goddamn difficult with what he was doing to you.

Eddie pulled back only slightly to take off your panties as well.

“Spread your legs wider… let me see you.”

You swallowed hard, another wave of arousal hitting you out of nowhere, and you had to fight the urge to press your knees together and instead open your legs wider for him.

“So good for me,” Eddie cood, his palms rubbing up your thighs, eyes fixed on your pussy. “And so wet as well.” He slowly looked up at you, finding you looking back at him, and he hummed in appreciation. You were good at following orders, and he enjoyed it. For someone with such a big mouth, you were eager to please. It was the contrast he liked.

Without a warning, his mouth was on you again, his tongue lapping at your clit, eliciting moan after moan out of you, but you were still holding back.

“Louder… let me hear you, sweet thing,” Eddie encouraged you, and while your former lovers had always told you to be more quiet, Eddie allowed you to be as loud as you wanted. There was nobody here to hear you anyway, and so you let loose, your loud moans filling the dark kitchen as he thrust his tongue inside you, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing slow circles around it.

“Eddie… I’m… I’m gonna,” you breathed out and let your head fall back on a moan. That made Eddie pull back from you, though, leaving you gasping, aching for more, for that sweet release that didn’t come. “What…?”

“I told you to keep your eyes on me.” He looked up at you, your juices coating his lips and chin, a devilish smile on his lips. “If you don’t follow, you don’t get to come.”

“That’s mean!” you whined, but you wanted this, wanted him, and you wanted these orders. “I’ll listen! I won’t do it again.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll… do my best!”

“Alright, you get another chance.” Eddie pushed two fingers inside you without a warning, making you moan his name, but you kept your eyes on him now, already feeling that coil inside you tighten further and further, ready to snap any second now.

“Please… I need to… I,” you stammered, and when he curved his fingers to hit that sweet spot inside you, you cried out, knuckles turning white from how hard you were grabbing the edge of the counter.

“Ask for it!” Eddie looked up at you, eyes locked with yours as he sped up his fingers. “Ask or I’ll stop.”

“Please! Please, Eddie!” you started, knowing what he wanted to hear. “Please let me come!”

“Who am I to deny you that when you’re asking so nicely?” It didn’t take more than his approval now to make that coil finally snap, made your orgasm wrack your body, your cunt spasming around his fingers. But you kept your eyes on him, moaning his name over and over.

Slowly, Eddie pulled his fingers back, making you whimper slightly, your legs dangling off the counter. You were still catching your breath when he kissed you, making you taste yourself on his lips.

“You see how sweet you taste? God, that’s addictive.” He pulled you close, your sensitive pussy making contact with his hard cock.

“Eddie…” you whispered, hands darting down to his cock, to wrap your fingers around him again.

“Yes?” For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, hands on your hips to keep you in place.

“Please..”

“Use your words! Tell me what you need!”

“I need you inside me!” You peppered kisses along his jaw, his shoulder. “Need you to fuck me!”

“I don’t have a condom.” Even in this heated situation, he thought about this.

“I’m on the pill.”

Your words made him groan, made his fingers dig into your skin, because just the thought of taking you like this made him nearly combust.

“Are you sure? You can still say no!”

“Eddie…” You raised your head again to look into his eyes. “I know.” Despite all your differences, you knew that he would never do anything like that. You pulled him into a kiss while you guided his cock to your cunt, using your own slick to lube him up even more. Eddie groaned against your lips, pushing slowly forward, entering you.

“I don’t think-” Eddie started, but you stopped him with your fingers on his lips.

“Don’t hold back!” you told him, and he listened, pushed all the way inside you, leaving you both breathless for a moment. But then Eddie started moving, started thrusting into you again and again, each thrust getting a bit harder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, gripping me so good.” Eddie’s fingers would leave bruises on your hips because he was holding you in place, and it was good this was. You would still feel him tomorrow, and the day after, thinking back on what was happening right now.

“Such a good girl… Doing so well.”

“Fuck, Eddie!” his words went right to your cunt, making it pulse around him. Eddie’s hips stuttered for a moment, before he picked up his pace again, snapping his hips into yours. When he pulled you a little more towards the edge, he hit that spot inside you again, his pubic bone brushing against your clit with every thrust he gave you.

“Eddie… I’m gonna… Please! Please let me come!” You felt your second high approaching, making your head all fuzzy, and you didn’t even control what was coming over your lips anymore.

“Go ahead… come all over my cock! I want to feel you, y/n. Want to feel your pretty pussy grip me tight.” He leaned his head down, looking down to see his cock push in and out, going a little slower now, but harder to push you over the edge. Your nails dug into his shoulders, as your second high ripped through you, making you see stars behind your closed eyes. Your loud moans filled the room as Eddie fucked you through your orgasm, drawing it out, but when he couldn’t hold it back anymore, he pulled out of your, spurting his come all over your stomach. Now, you were the one to watch in awe, trying to catch your breath, but you were transfixed by the picture in front of you that was accompanied by Eddie’s lewd moans mixed with grunt and your name here and there.

His head fell to your shoulder when he was done, his hands letting go of your hips, slowly stroking over your thighs to your knees and back up. You ran your fingertips up his arms, over his shoulders until you were able to cup his cheeks and lift his head. Your lips connected with his in a slow, sensual kiss that left you both breathless again.

“Not how I expected this afternoon to go,” you broke the silence with a chuckle.

“Me neither,” Eddie agreed, pulling back slightly to look you over. “Was this… okay?”

“Are you kidding?” you asked, gathering some of his come on your finger. “It was the best sex I ever had.” Curiosity got the better of you and you popped your finger into your mouth, licking his seed off, eyes still on him.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he mumbled, eyes on your lips for a moment, before he looked back up. “Jesus, just looking at you like this is gonna get me hard again.”

“So?” you shrugged your shoulders, a mischievous smile on your lips as you did so. “I don’t see a problem with that.”

“Well… keeps us warm at least.” Eddie chuckled, placing his palms flat on your thighs again.

“See? How else are we supposed to keep warm?”

“Yeah… looks like we don’t even have another choice, right?”

“Right…” You whispered before you kissed him again, forgetting about your surroundings and the situation in itself.

Tag-list: @violetpenguinkris @tellhound @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @spideyanakin-interacts @bellamy-barnes @beepisbeep @snapefiction @hardysbitch @give-em-hellfire @sadbitchfangirl @ravenclawkimmi @lacrymosa-24 @ruinedbythehobbit @samlealea @hacker-ghost @kirsteng42 @princesseddie @anaisweird

Let me know (send me a message) if you want to be on one of my tag-lists. I have one for the Promises Series, Eddie x Reader, Steddie and Steve x Reader 💚

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #staffi writes #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n

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lemonbronze · 5 months

Text

[Azure Moon-adjacent AU; multi-chapter; sad and also fluff; more characters/tags to be added as they appear]

This AU slapped me in the face yesterday and I have been able to think of nothing else until I started writing it, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Eventually, this fic will be ferdibert-heavy. It will also be sad sometimes, so be warned!

Link to the fic on AO3 will be in a reblog, or you can read it below!

He stood where he had been unmoving throughout the past hour: behind the casket, hands tightly gripping his arms behind his back, eyes fixed on the silent and unmoving body before him. He’d done his part, given a eulogy with stoic resolve and provided a false sense of normalcy to his friends as they wrestled with their own grief. But now, finally alone, he could let down his tough exterior and try to process Ferdinand’s passing.

He shifted forward, leaning over the casket. Someone had done their best to make the fallen general look as refined as possible in death, dressing him in fine armor and hiding his fatal wounds in the process. Great care had been taken with his hair, and it looked almost as radiant as always, if not for the way it had dulled over the last few days. The casket was otherwise filled with flowers, and heartfelt letters, and a small horse figurine—and none of it felt real.

Hubert touched Ferdinand’s graying face, letting his gloved fingers trace the spray of freckles across his cheeks. A week ago, those cheeks had flushed with laughter and that face had been bright with smiles. A week ago, Ferdinand had been full of life, sipping tea outdoors and finding obvious excuses to touch Hubert’s arm more than necessary as they chatted together.

Dozens of tired old cliches ran through his head—you’re gone too soon, this isn’t fair, why was it you and not me, please come back—and yet he didn’t have the energy to say any of it. Instead, he shut his eyes as tightly as he could and whispered, “I miss you.”

The stone room yawned cold and silent around him.

Hubert remained at his lonely vigil until long after night fell, and he only left Ferdinand’s side when he felt sure most of his well-meaning friends would be asleep. Any stragglers still awake would know better than to bother him as he slunk back toward his chambers, hiding his bloodshot eyes under cover of darkness.

On his way back to his room, he stopped briefly to look in on Edelgard. Even in the midst of the ache of grief, he would be unable to rest until he knew she was alright—but she was sleeping, soundly and safely, and a small part of him wished she was awake so he wouldn’t have to be alone with his feelings. Even so, he left her sleeping and returned to his chambers to get what rest he could.

Everything in his room was the same as he had left it that morning—books stacked neatly, letters and sealing wax tucked out of the way, bed carefully made. A tidy room was some small comfort to him, and the less clutter that surrounded him, the less likely he was to encounter memories when he didn’t expect them. He wasn’t a stranger to grief; he also knew some of the little ways he could help himself get through it.

And so everything was as tidy as he had left it this morning.

Everything was the same, except now Ferdinand was there.

Hubert drew in a slow, deep breath, then closed his eyes for a few moments. When he opened them again, Ferdinand was still there, perched on top of his desk as if he belonged nowhere else, and certainly not gently rotting in a casket on the other side of the castle. Although this apparition looked like Ferdinand, it also sported four massive, white, feathery wings and a faint yellow-orange glow that seemed to emanate from somewhere within its body. It was wearing nothing more than what looked like a long, white skirt, and its hair floated ethereally around it.

“I need to go to sleep,” said Hubert, shaking his head and turning away from the Ferdinand-shaped thing on his desk.

“You are not seeing things,” said the Ferdinand-creature with a laugh, and the voice jolted Hubert back to attention once again.

“I don’t know what you are,” he snarled, moving closer and drawing himself up to his tallest and most threatening height, “but using the voice and form of a dead person to get to the living is wildly cruel, even by my standards.”

The creature tilted its head and gave a sad smile. “I am not trying to hurt you,” it said. “I am really Ferdinand. I suppose I died—”

“You suppose?” Hubert snorted. “Ferdinand fell in battle at Myrddin four days ago. His body is over in the visitation room right now, dead and cold. You are not him.”

“Oh, yes, that makes sense,” said the creature, hopping down off the desk and turning to look over one shoulder. “I have a large wound, you see? I was wondering what it had come from.”

Hubert—against his better judgment—craned his neck to look at the supposed wound. There it was, bright red against the glowing warmth of the creature’s exposed freckled skin, positioned just in the middle of where the four wings sprouted from its back.

Just where Ferdinand’s fatal wound had been located.

Hubert frowned. “What are you, really?” he said.

The creature looked sidelong up at one of its wings and said, “I am an angel, I think.”

“Ridiculous.”

“I thought so too!” A laugh; then, “I was unsure where I was or what was happening, but I was surrounded by sparks of light. They danced around me and told me that I was going to become a guardian angel. Of course, I thought I was simply having a dream, but then I awoke and I was here—like this!”

“In my bedroom.”

“Yes! And Hubie—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“—I believe that I am in fact your guardian angel.” The creature—Ferdinand—grabbed Hubert’s hand happily and added, “If I must be dead, I suppose this is not so bad!”

None of this made any sense, and Hubert wasn’t about to believe it. He didn’t even believe in angels, and certainly not guardian angels. Nor did he believe that a man four days dead was suddenly alive (more or less) and standing in his room with him. But the warmth of Ferdinand’s physical contact was real, and it was as electrifying as every stray touch they had shared over coffee and tea in the garden. Tears sprang to Hubert’s eyes before he could stop them. “You feel like him,” he said, low and drained.

“Please do not cry, Hubie,” said Ferdinand, giving his hand a squeeze. “Oh, I am so sorry.”

Hubert met Ferdinand’s gaze. All the life and energy and merriment that made up Ferdinand von Aegir still settled behind those big brown eyes, and it was impossible not to believe what he was saying.

But grief could be powerful, and it could do strange things to a person. Exhaustion, on top of it, was even worse. Hubert removed his hand from Ferdinand’s grip (and oh, how he didn’t want to do it) before stepping toward his bed. “I am very tired,” he said, “and my heart is broken besides. I need to rest, and I believe you will be long gone in the morning, although I am grateful to have seen you tonight.”

“I will be here,” said Ferdinand, throwing himself—massive wings and all—into an armchair on the far side of the room. “This is where I am meant to be, and I am not going to leave.”

Hubert shook his head, ignored the creature’s words, and got ready for bed.

#bran writes #fire emblem fanfiction #fe3h #ferdibert #ferdinand von aegir #hubert von vestra #angelnand #please rb this if you want to! I would love for more people to read it

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folightening · 4 months

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Muses

Hetalia - Spamano - Humans, Artist and Muse AU Romano was searching for a muse. He found one in Antonio, and so much more. Secret santa gift for@someone-you-do-not-know Ao3 Kinda long, so most of it's under the cut.

It had been months since he'd last made any reasonable progress. Months. And in that time, Veneziano had succeeded in not only finishing projects but gaining popularity. Grandfather's legacy giving him a boost there was the only thing that kept Romano's jealousy relatively low.

It had still been months since he'd last made progress. Finishing any of his projects was out of the question. He just didn't have the inspiration he needed.

Which led him into the countryside. If he couldn't find anything in the city, why not look in the country. Gilbert could protect him well enough and he'd hopefully find the inspiration he needed.

"I've got an idea," Gilbert's loud voice suddenly broke the relative silence.

"A good idea this time?"

Gilbert was trying, but so far none of his ideas or suggestions had worked.

"Follow me," Gilbert laughed.

With no other choice Romano followed him to someone's property. The old home stood single story, the dull white walls and dark tiled roof a striking contrast to the surrounding green. It had clearly belonged to someone with money at some time in history, with the open gateway and cobbled path leading up to the building. There were more than enough plants around: trees casting plenty of shade over the stone and the lawn, a variety of bushes and flowers, and Romano could see a garden of some size past the corner of the house.

"Who lives here?"

"Antonio."

As if that name meant anything to Romano. Gilbert dismounted his horse and helped Romano down as well.

"Go take a look around, I'll go talk to him."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Perfectly."

Gilbert left him standing there and Romano sighed. Typical of Gilbert to run off on him and leave him alone on some stranger's property. What if this Antonio was outside? He didn't even know how Gilbert knew the man. What was he supposed to say?

The old building would make a lovely painting but that wasn't inspiring. The flowering trees were beautiful but again not inspiring. Maybe farther on the land but Romano didn't want to trespass no matter how convinced Gilbert was that it would be fine.

Romano sighed and pulled his sketchbook from his pack. He might as well try getting something down. Even if Gilbert only brought him here so he could see a friend, at least Romano could say he tried.

Some time had passed and all he had to show for it were half finished sketches of the bushes and trees when Gilbert finally returned.

"Antonio knows we're here now come on."

Romano followed Gilbert through the yard, past the substantial garden, and through some trees. There was obviously something specific he had wanted to show him. Romano hoped this time it was worth it.

Beyond the small cluster of citrus trees was a cliff. Romano stared out across the view.

"This might work."

"Get to it then." Gilbert clapped him on the back. "Want me to go get something bigger for you to work on?"

"Hurry."

Romano focused on the view in front of him and started sketching the landscape.

"That's Romano?"

An unfamiliar voice Romano assumed belonged to Antonio interrupted his focus and he turned.

Walking over with Gilbert was exactly what Romano had been searching for. Romano stared at him: the sun-kissed skin, the unkempt dark hair, the strong frame under clothes designed more for comfort than anything else.

"Be my muse," Romano blurted out before he could think to stop himself.

"What?"

"You're perfect. Let me paint you."

Antonio's startled expression quickly melted into a sheepish smile.

"Oh. I."

Gilbert laughed and pat Romano's shoulder.

"You got good taste. Take him up on it, Antonio."

"But I've never had my portrait done."

The flustered expression was beautiful too. Romano wanted to spend hours studying Antonio's face. To see how he looked under different lighting, all his different expressions.

"It won't be anything professional. No one else even has to see it. Please."

Romano ignored Gilbert's snickering as Antonio finally nodded.

"Okay. What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to raid your kitchen," Gilbert said. "Have fun."

"Just stay right there," Romano instructed Antonio as Gilbert left.

Romano turned to an empty page and started sketching. He wouldn't be able to capture every detail in just a sketch, but it would have to do for now.

"Gilbert said you are an artist in search of inspiration."

"Pretty much." A few more lines here for that hair. "I haven't gotten anywhere with it yet."

There was silence between them until Romano finished the picture and showed it to Antonio.

"Wow," Antonio exclaimed. "Do I really look like that?"

"You ever look in a mirror?"

Antonio laughed and Romano stared. He had to stay here for a while and keep drawing this man.

"Do you have room for me to stay here for a while?"

"You want to keep drawing me that much?"

"I do."

Now that he had finally found his muse he couldn't just walk away.

Antonio's laughter quieted.

"It would be nice to have someone around the house again. Okay Mr. Artist, I have a guest room you can use."

Perfect. Now he didn't have to wander aimlessly with Gilbert anymore, or return home to his family's loving judgements. And most importantly he got to spend more time with his muse.

"If I ever make you uncomfortable, tell me to knock it off," Romano said.

"Come on, I'll show you your room."

With how often he stared at and drew Antonio, Romano wanted to do something. Helping Antonio with his garden seemed to Romano a fine trade off with Antonio refusing to accept any money. As it turned out, Romano enjoyed gardening.

Unfortunately, helping Antonio outside meant distraction.

Distraction Antonio was more than happy to provide as he got more and more comfortable with being Romano's muse.

"Look Romano." "How's this Romano?" "Draw this Romano!"

And Romano listened to every demand. He didn't tire of staring at Antonio, loved recording the nature of Antonio in his artwork. Every stupid pose and goofy expression brought him farther and farther from his worries about his family's expectations. Every piece of Antonio - lovingly rendered to captured the man in his entirety - had him following Antonio into a life he had never considered having before. One carefree, without expectations or worries of the judgements of others. The more he followed his muse the less he cared about the life he'd been trying to fit himself into before.

Nonsense lyrics sang to a tune Romano wasn't sure existed before that moment interrupted his thoughts. Antonio was singing? He did have his guitar, and only an idiot would say he didn't play well, but Romano had never heard him sing before… Probably for good reason, if that was his choice of lyrics.

Antonio stopped in front of him, laughed, and Romano blinked himself out of his bewilderment.

"What the fuck kind of lyrics were those?"

Antonio smiled wider.

"Sing with me."

"How about I show you how it's done and you try not to ruin any more songs."

Antonio laughed again as Romano prepared. It had been a while. A long while. He had never sang for Antonio before. But dammit he had to show his idiot how it was done. If Antonio could burst into song, so could Romano.

And when he did, it wasn't quite the burst he had in mind. It started awkward while he regained his vocal footing before rising into the proper singing he prided himself on.

It felt good to sing again.

Antonio's awed adoration felt sublime.

"Why didn't you focus on singing?"

"I don't need other people telling me what to do with my voice." Unless you have any requests. "And it's too much work to make a career of it."

"With that voice you could be famous in no time."

Then I wouldn't have met you.

"I am glad for it though," Antonio added.

"Why?"

Antonio's eyes widened and the flustered expression was just as lovely as the first time Romano had seen it. Flustering Antonio was fun, and so easy - all Romano had to do was talk, especially if he leaned into his accent. Sometimes he wondered just how much Antonio liked hearing him.

"I should check to make sure everything is prepared for tonight."

Right, Antonio was hosting a party. Romano didn't do well with parties but maybe Antonio would let him stay on the side and politely ignore everyone.

"I'll finish up here," Romano said.

All of the expected guests arrived early. Emma and her fiancée Erzsébet's recent engagement made them the unofficial stars of the party. It was really just an excuse for everyone to get together. Romano was content to watch the party. He didn't dance, and didn't know most of the guests.

But for once it wasn't Antonio he was focusing on. Erzsébet had offered him a job earlier: to paint a portrait of herself and Emma. So he was watching the two of them, filling his page with sketches of the couple to get a feel for them before accepting her offer.

"You must be the artist Antonio told me about in his letters."

"Yeah, I am. Who…"

Romano stared at the man who could only be Antonio's twin.

"You must be João."

"Complained about me has he?"

"That he misses you."

João looked taken aback for a moment before lightly laughing.

"So how long have you been with Antonio?"

"A year."

João hummed and Romano took the time to look him over. His resemblance to Antonio was striking, they were identical twins after all, but there were also some things that were so different Romano couldn't believe people confused the two. But more important than the twins' similarities and differences, João knew things about Antonio that Romano didn't. He knew the side of the picture that Romano couldn't paint.

"Tell me about Antonio."

Romano didn't like the mischievous smile.

"You've been with Toninho for a year and need me to tell you about him? It would break his heart to hear that."

"You…" Romano sighed. He had heard about João, this was expected.

"He is talking to me again, and I have to thank you for that. So, and don't tell him I told you but - He thinks you're cute and adores your voice."

That explained earlier. It clarified so many moments that still had left Romano confused. But that wasn't what Romano had been wanting to hear.

"I know I only see part of him. You're his brother, surely you can tell me more."

"I can tell you all my brother's dark secrets later. Right now you don't want to miss Antonio's spotlight stealing." João pointed at Antonio. "He prides himself on his dancing."

Every dip and curve of Antonio's body had held Romano captive for so long, he had long ago committed every part of Antonio to memory. That didn't stop him from becoming utterly entranced by the sway of Antonio's hips and the fluid motion of his dance. Romano had seen him dance before; but this was different from silly dances in the kitchen or garden.

"He should."

This was the part of Antonio he could never hope to capture on any canvas: the pure passion with which he did everything. The passion for life itself shined bright, infecting Romano in ways nothing else could or ever had. Antonio had not only inspired him to complete art again but to find the simple beauties all around him. The man had changed the way Romano viewed the world, for the better, and Romano-

He loved him for it.

Suddenly everything was too much. Antonio's smile, the way he looked at him and Romano knew the man was checking to see if he still had his attention. As if Romano could focus on anyone else right now. As if anyone could have Romano's attention the way Antonio did. Romano tore his gaze from Antonio's perfect form and hurried away from the suffocating atmosphere that had descended over him.

Away from other people he took a deep breath. So he had fallen in love with Antonio. Of course he had, who wouldn't? Everything about the man had had him enthralled from the day they'd met. It was only a matter of time, and the past year had given them plenty of that.

"Romano? You hurried away so suddenly, are you okay?"

Romano looked at Antonio's concern.

"You were supposed to be inspiration- a way to improve my art."

Antonio's brows came together in confusion.

"Instead, you- You made me a better person, Antonio. I see everything differently and it's all your fault."

"What?"

"You have so much passion and love. For everything. I'm the artist, and I couldn't see the world until I met you."

Those irritating tears starting building and Romano swiped them away. Why did he have to tear up every time he got emotional? He was trying to confess.

"I don't understand-"

"Shut up so I can confess. You're gorgeous, and the best muse I've ever had, and so fucking wonderful I want to keep spending my life with you."

Antonio stared at him and for a moment Romano basked in the fact that he had rendered Antonio speechless.

Then Antonio blinded Romano with the force of his smile and knocked him to the ground with his eager embrace, but the pain quickly faded when Antonio's lips were on his. He felt how Romano had imagined he would; was so perfectly Antonio that Romano couldn't get enough.

"Aren't we supposed to date before you propose?" Antonio chuckled.

"That wasn't a proposal dummy."

"Well my answer's yes."

#hetalia #spamano #aph spain #aph romano #hws spain #hws romano #fol stuff #there were other scenes I wanted in here but they didn't quite work so I'll use them for different fics

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chicgeekgirl89 · 8 months

Text

Chapter 5: Wife

Read on AO3

When T.K. wakes up he’s momentarily confused. Whatever he’s on top of, it’s not his mattress. Did he fall asleep on the salon sofa or up on the aft deck again? He has to stop doing that.

And then the thing underneath him shifts ever so slightly and the memories of the last few hours come back in stunning technicolor. He smiles, rolling his hips a little bit and Carlos groans beneath him. “Don’t start something we can’t finish,” he says, his voice rough with sleep, or possibly lack thereof.

T.K. opens his eyes and squints at his phone. They slept for…approximately an hour and a half. Definitely lack thereof then. “I think we both finished pretty well a couple hours again,” he says.

“Yes, we’re clearly very good at finishing each other,” Carlos says with a laugh, his voice muffled because he’s pressing his lips into the bare skin of T.K.’s shoulder. “It’s more of a timing issue. We have to be up for breakfast in three minutes.”

T.K. opens his mouth, but Carlos lifts a hand and presses a finger against his lips, effectively silencing him. “I know you’re about to say ‘challenge accepted’, but if you start something now there’s no way I’m getting out of this bed,” he tells him.

Oh god. Those words are enough to make T.K. want to chain Carlos here and never let him leave.

“Let the guests get their own breakfast,” T.K. tells him, planting his face between Carlos’ pecs (they feel every bit as wonderful as T.K. imagined they would) to press a kiss to his skin.

Carlos’ fingers come up to toy with the hair at the nape of T.K.’s neck. “Pretty sure that’s going to affect our tip.”

“Who cares?” T.K. says with a groan.

“The entire crew,” Carlos tells him. “And us. Tips are what make this job worth doing. Also if we don’t get up someone is going to come looking for us.”

Right. That would be awkward. Especially since now, in the light of day, T.K. is remembering all the reasons he’d been trying not to let this happen in the first place. Like the fact that Iris and Carlos are exes, which makes everything complicated and weird.

T.K. sits up enough to let Carlos slide out from beneath him. He opens his mouth to ask for a little clarity on the Iris situation, but Carlos speaks first.

“Hey,” he says. “Can I ask a favor?”

“Sure,” T.K. says, letting his eyes do that charming sparkle thing that usually gets him what he wants.

“Not a sex favor,” Carlos says with a smile.

Oh.

“I was thinking maybe I’d cook dinner for the crew tomorrow night. Like a really nice dinner since we have an extra day between charters,” Carlos continues. “As a thank you for being so kind and helpful.”

“Oh, cool,” T.K. says, once again astounded by how lovely this man is. “But I’m not going to be much help as a sous chef. You should see me try to boil water.”

Carlos chuckles. “No, I don’t need help in the kitchen. I was thinking I’d do something local, but that requires a trip into town and I don’t really know where to go.”

Time alone with Carlos? Wandering through the Bahamian market place? “Yeah,” he says. “Just as long as it’s not too early.”

“Yeah I’m aware that you’re not a morning person,” Carlos says, a knowing look on his face. “Don’t worry. I won’t drag you out of bed before you’re ready.”

“I’d rather you drag me into bed.”

Carlos laughs, and then an odd look comes over his face. “This was a lot of fun,” he says.“But I don’t—can we keep it between us? For now?”

“Sure,” T.K. says rolling onto his back and looking at the bottom of the bunk above him.

“Okay. Great. Thanks,” Carlos flashes him a relieved smile and then disappears into the bathroom.

It’s fine. T.K.’s no stranger to keeping secrets. What they did here as two consenting adults is between them and no one else.

But something about the look on Carlos’ face, the hint of fear in his voice, it’s rubbing T.K. the wrong way. He needs to find out what happened between him and Iris. Especially if this is going to happen again.

And he’d very much like it to.

The guests are off the boat by mid-morning, which is a huge relief. When you’re on charter you have to be “on” all the time. Always mildly pleasant to sometimes outrageous (the 80’s rager this group wanted was nothing compared to the foam party another group requested that ended in one member jumping overboard and another cheating on his wife with her sister), all for the sake of tip money.

The work doesn’t stop though. As soon as the guests are gone everyone gets out of their whites and back into their red FireBug t-shirts, ready to clean the boat until every inch of it shines.

T.K. is bent over the master toilet, scrubbing away when Tommy’s voice crackles over the radio calling them all for a tip meeting in fifteen minutes.

Thank god he’s nearly done; the boat has been cleaned from top to bottom, which means that tomorrow they’ll only have the last minute prep stuff to do before the next group of guests arrive.

And tonight? Freedom. The perks of being a yachtie mean occasionally having time off on a two hundred million dollar boat in an exotic location. Those few hours of free time are everything. Moments like that are when you can pretend that you’re the one with the endless bank account on the vacation of a lifetime.

And he’s really looking forward to spending some of those moments with Carlos.

T.K. stands up, stretching out his back, his knees stiff from kneeling on the floor. He pats the garish, lion shaped tap on the sink as he gives the bathroom one more look and then heads out into the hallway where he picks up all the soiled sheets and towels to drop off in the laundry.

He passes the galley on his way there and catches a glimpse of Carlos, hands on his hips, distress on his face. Every single cabinet is open and the counter is covered in cookware, but Carlos isn’t doing a thing to help that situation.

“Hey,” T.K. says, putting on his sexy flirt voice since no one else is around.

Carlos is apparently too distracted to fall for it. “I think I’m losing it,” he says. “I swear to god we had more coffee filters, but I can’t find them anywhere. I thought I put them in one of these drawers, but they’re not there.”

“Ah,” T.K. says, walking through the doorway and into the kitchen. He grabs hold of the drawer Carlos indicated and yanks it out completely, setting it on the counter. Then he reaches deep into the empty cavity, fingers scrabbling around and until he meets crinkly plastic. “Voila,” he says as he pulls out the slightly squashed package of coffee filters. “That drawer is the worst.”

“Oh thank god,” Carlos says, relief on his face. “I thought I was going to have a mutiny on my hands. Crews without coffee are terrifying.”

“We do need our caffeine,” T.K. says.

“I owe you one,” Carlos says, sliding the filters toward the coffee pot on the counter.

“Mm…I could think of one or two ways you could repay me,” T.K. says, quirking a smug little smile.

“Oh really?” Carlos steps toward him, crowding him into the corner. “Would you like to tell me how? Or should I get creative?”

Oh fuck. The words go straight to his groin and he swallows hard. Carlos’ mouth is only inches away, his breath fanning over T.K.’s face. T.K.’s eyelids flutter closed as Carlos leans in—

“Yo!” Mateo pokes his head into the galley and the two of them spring apart. “You two coming? Tip meeting baby! Gotta get that green!”

“Yeah we’re on our way,” Carlos says, his face bright red as he quickly moves to follow the deckhand.

Thank god Mateo is a slightly oblivious human being; he just keeps rambling on as they climb the stairs to the main salon. “This one’s going to be a big one, I can feel it.”

“You always think it’s going to be a big one,” T.K. says with a roll of his eyes. He tries to catch Carlos’ gaze, but the he seems to deliberately looking away.

“Yeah, gotta manifest what you want,” Mateo tells him as they reach the top of the staircase and join the others.

“What if I want six weeks of vacation without you there?” Judd asks from where he’s already seated on the pristine white couch. “How do I manifest that?”

“Not sure that’s in the cards Juddy boy,” Tommy teases as she settles into her usual chair. “Twenty-four hours of freedom will have to be enough.”

T.K. takes a seat next to Judd and expects Carlos to sit on his other side, but he crosses the room and sits next to Iris instead. She immediately leans over and says something to him, making him smile. He puts a hand on her knee and squeezes as he responds, and T.K.’s heart twinges painfully in his chest.

They’d agreed to keep it private, but feeling like he’s a dirty secret isn’t quite the same thing.

He gets distracted from his anxious spiral when Nancy brings over a tray of drinks for the group and Tommy pulls out the tip envelope.

“All right team,” Tommy says, her calm, pleasant demeanor immediately silencing the chatter in the room. “Another fantastic charter. We had a pretty big emergency on our hands and you all handled it with the speed and skill I expect in a crew. Our guests were equally impressed and left us a very generous $23,000 tip, which is roughly $2,000 per person. Congratulations. And don’t forget, we have a dinner reservation tonight on land at 8:00. Be ready by 7:30 if you want to go.”

There are cheers all around as the envelopes are passed out. Dinners off the boat don’t happen every day, they’re lucky if they get them once or twice a month, sometimes less if the charters are coming back to back and everyone is exhausted. They’re a big deal and usually involve a post dinner trip to a club for dancing and more fun.

T.K. doesn’t see Carlos for the rest of the afternoon. It seems like every time he walks by the galley Carlos is heading out somewhere else. It’s a similar situation in their cabin.

He’s having as similar problem with Iris. Every time he finds her there’s someone else around. Which is kind of annoying, but also a relief since he’s not sure what he’s going to say when they finally do have a chance to talk.

“Hey Iris, your ex-boyfriend and I were fucking around last night and we might do it again. Is that okay with you?”

“Hey Iris, cool that I shoved my tongue down your ex’s throat?”

“Hey Iris, did you also find your ex’s dominating nature to be a massive turn-on?”

Yeah. None of those seem like great options.

He manages a quick shower before their dinner reservation, choosing his favorite floral Hawaiian shirt for the night and pairing it with a pair of cream colored linen pants, then grabbing a Panama hat for good measure. When in the islands, you may as well dress like it.

Paul and Mateo are in the crew mess when he gets there, both of them already sipping a beer to celebrate the end of their work day. T.K. pulls a mineral water from the fridge and joins them, laughing and chatting it up as they wait for the rest of the crew to get ready.

He’s halfway through his mineral water when Carlos finally appears. T.K. nearly chokes.

Their chef is in black pants and a white button down that’s opened just one button more than should be legal, revealing a vast expanse of that beautiful brown chest T.K. had gotten to run his hands all over last night. His curls are wild and he hasn’t shaved, a little bit of five o’clock shadow shading his face. He smiles as he takes in the rest of the group, making something heavy drop into T.K.’s stomach. “Starting the party early?”

“I just spent two hours scrubbing the jacuzzi,” Paul says. “This is medicinal.”

“Fair enough,” Carlos says.

“They’re in the fridge, help yourself,” Judd directs and Carlos takes him up on it, popping the cap off a bottle and taking a sip.

T.K. should not be staring at the way Carlos’ Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he drinks, but he is. It’s almost hypnotic and very, very sexual. God damn it. It’s like torture to be this close to him, to have him looking this good and not be able to touch him. He has got to talk to Iris.

Speak of the devil, Iris, Nancy, and Marjan choose that moment to arrive, all of them dressed to the nines as per usual. T.K. isn’t sure how they’ve managed to fit so many different outfits into their teeny cabin wardrobe, but he hasn’t seen them wear anything twice since the charter season started, and they always look fabulous.

“All right crew, we ready to go?” Tommy asks as she walks in, flanked by their first officer Dave. Neil, their engineer, drew the short straw this time and will be staying behind to watch the boat.

Their reservation is at Dune, a place with views that a travel blogger would rave over. It’s a thirty minute drive there in a couple of rented vans and T.K. ends up squished in the backseat between Marjan and Nancy, Iris and Mateo in front of them with Dave in the front passenger’s seat ignoring all their shenanigans.

They’re in a spectacular mood by the time they reach the restaurant, some of them already a little tipsy and the rest just giddy with freedom and the beautiful Bahamian sunset. It’s shaping up to be a perfect night.

He sidles up to Carlos as they wait to get checked in. “I haven’t seen you all afternoon.”

Carlos flashes him a smile, but it feels artificially pleasant. “Yeah I had lots to do.”

T.K. waits for more, then feels confused when it doesn’t come. “I think you’re going to like it here,” he says, letting his hand brush subtly against Carlos’. “The food is amazing.”

“Great.”

What the hell? Why is Carlos being so weird?

He’d thought they were just missing each other all afternoon. But now it feels like maybe Carlos was avoiding him on purpose.

They’re lead to their table and he watches Carlos hesitate as they all grab chairs and the only open one is next to T.K.

Now he’s starting to get pissed.

“Are you okay?” T.K. asks quietly as they all reach for their menus, a tiny bit of heat in his tone.

Carlos looks at him, but his face has that bland, pleasant look he usually reserves for guests. “Yes. I’m fine.” He looks across the table. “Paul, have you ever had the grouper here?”

Okay, now T.K. is really mad. What the fuck? Where is this apathetic attitude coming from? Was he just an easy lay? He’d thought…he’d thought there was something more between them. But apparently he was wrong.

He wants to drag Carlos away from the table and force him to talk about whatever is going on, but there’s no way to do that without making a scene. So instead he stares blankly at his menu, internally berating himself for once again falling for someone who says all the right things to get him into bed and then doesn’t give a fuck about him once it’s over.

Everyone else laughs and talks as they order drinks and apps and mains, their stories getting wilder and more hilarious the more the evening progresses.

“He literally shat on the deck,” Nancy says during dessert, the entire table howling with laughter. “This tiny dog, I have never seen so much poop in my entire life. I think he had a bowel issue. And he bit everyone on the crew. It was awful.”

T.K. forces out a laugh and then pokes at the creme brulee on his plate. Usually he loves the crème brûlée here, but tonight it sits thick and too sweet on his tongue.

When Iris gets up a few minutes later to go to the bathroom, T.K. practically leaps to his feet, startling everyone at the table. “Sorry,” he says quickly. “Sorry, be right back.”

If he can’t get answers out of Carlos, maybe he can finally get some out of Iris.

She’s already in the restroom when he gets there so he waits outside, lurking like some kind of pervert. His brain is so jumbled right now he’s not sure he can form a decent sentence, but he has to try. “Iris,” he says as soon as she reappears.

She gasps and he receives an incredibly sharp jab to the solar plexus. He doubles over, clutching at his chest, not an ounce of breath left inside him. “Iris!” he yells irately when he finally gets it back. “Why the hell do you always punch first and ask questions later?”

“Why are you lurking outside the women’s bathroom?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest.

“Aren’t you going to apologize?” he says, hand rubbing at the throbbing area dead center between his pecs.

“For defending myself? No.” She looks him up and down. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

“I wanted to talk to you. About Carlos,” T.K. says, suddenly feeling nerves bubble up inside of him.

“His snoring,” Iris says knowingly.

“Oh, no, not that.”

“The way he has to have everything cleaned up before bed or he can’t sleep?”

“No, that’s not it either I—“

“Oh. Did he tell you off for not rolling the toothpaste tube up to get all the toothpaste out of it? You don’t have to listen to him, you can throw it away before that. He’s not the toothpaste police.”

“No, Iris, listen,” T.K. says, putting his hands gently on her shoulders in an attempt to ground her. “I’ve been…I—“ he swallows trying to figure out how to say this. “I know Carlos is your ex-boyfriend—”

“No he’s not,” she says immediately.

His head is spinning. This conversation is not going at all how he’d thought it would. “He’s not?” he asks in confusion.

“No,” she says. “He’s my ex-husband.”

It’s like a bomb detonates in his soul and slowly shatters him from the inside out. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He wishes he was sitting down because he’s so shocked right now that he can no longer feel his legs.

Husband.

They were married.

Which is a hell of a lot different than dating.

And it means…he doesn’t know what it means. He doesn’t know anything at all anymore.

“You were…married?” His voice sounds strange coming out of his body.

“Yeah for like a year and a half,” Iris says.

His mind is rewinding at maximum speed through everything that’s happened on the boat since Carlos arrived. The way he and Iris look at each other. The tenderness. The hugs. He tries to make it all fit in his head with what happened between the two of them in his bunk this morning and Carlos’ aloofness tonight, and every possible answer he comes up with seems worse and more damning than the last.

He’s an idiot.

An absolute idiot for ever believing that someone like that could be into someone like him.

“And you…do you still have feelings for him?” he asks.

Iris gives him a weird look. “Yeah. I love him. Why do you think I told Tommy to hire him onto the boat?”

It feels like the lid slamming shut on a casket.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Nancy asks as she comes around the corner. “We’re waiting for you. Judd, Tommy, Dave, and Neil are heading back. Are you coming dancing with the rest of us or what?”

“Yes, dancing,” Iris says, immediately moving to follow her, completely unaware of the way she’s just destroyed T.K.

“Dude let’s go!” Nancy shouts over her shoulder as she walks away.

It’s with numb legs and a bruised heart that T.K. follows.

#Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Come Sail Away #911 Lone Star #911lsfic #Yachting AU #Sorry this one took so long

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gilbirda · 1 year

Text

Can't help falling in love (with you) Chp.4

Jazz/Jason (Anger Management). DP x Batman crossover.

Based on this post

When a ghost does shenanigans, Jazz usually stays out of the trouble, since that's her brother's thing. This time? This time trouble found her in the form of a ghost that marries her to the Red Hood against her will.

For DPxDC Week!

Day 5: A royal problem.

[Read on AO3][Read on FF.net]

First chapter || << Prev chapter || Next chapter >>

---

Chapter 4: Shot through the heart (and you are to blame)

Curse or no curse, Jason wasn’t mad about being married to that woman.

He never wanted to get married, or do the whole romance thing in general. Never saw the need to be with someone else, or subject someone to the mess of a person he was - he was self aware enough to know he wasn’t exactly that good of a life partner.

This Jasmine chick seemed nice and overall badass, she didn’t need someone like him in her life.

That being said, he wouldn’t mind knowing her more.

Man! Whatever Danny did to him was doing wonders to his mind! He had stopped feeling the urge to agree to anything she said and stopped feeling like the world spun around her.

He still felt a bit of awe, an infatuation, as she geared up with a calm demeanor that told of years doing the same dance over and over again. Consider it some kind of kinship with his way of life - she wasn’t a vigilante, but apparently a ghost hunter, and that was close enough.

It was like seeing someone with the same outfit, or the same haircut; a sense of solidarity in their lifestyle that inevitably made him feel closer than a civilian. He had never had a moment where he saw someone and thought, ‘yeah, this person could get me’, until now.

That’s why he wanted to follow her. He wanted to see her in her own turf, see her fight once again, and get that rush he got at the mall earlier in the day. Also, they made a great team.

“Go.” Right. Bruce was still there, watching him. Creepy old man. “I’ll look for the other affected people, you follow the siblings.”

“Are you trusting me to go alone?”

Batman actually smiled. “Apparently, the safest place for you right now is at her side.”

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

“She seems nice.”

“You only say that because she called you out.”

“What can I say? She impressed me.” They looked at each other for a few moments. “Once the situation is dealt with please take them both to the Cave. We need to know more about these ghosts.”

Red Hood groaned. Bruce was behaving but the paranoia was showing - not that he disagreed with him, since suddenly accepting that not only ghosts were a thing (as in, actual villains that did magic tricks) but that the mysterious meta that’s been messing with the Bats was actually just a kid; well, that was too much in too little time.

Huh.

And that he may or may not be married to a stranger. That too.

The others couldn’t know about this.

“Alright.” He walked up to the window, grappling gun in hand. “I’ll keep my comms open, yes.” He added before Bruce could say the reminder.

The older man smiled, the facial expression a bit out of place in the cowl, but it was genuine. “Take care.”

“Always do.”

With that, he jumped out and grappled to a nearby rooftop, setting his path in the direction he felt the pull in his chest. It wasn’t like the Pit, at least not the same sensation. It was akin in nature but not… prickly? Not aggressive, just a beacon of light that was impossible to miss.

The same with the Pit inside of him. It was quieter, gentler, a constant pressure in the back of his mind, but that wasn’t trying to take over his every thought. He was starting to understand that he really, really had been very fucked up.

Everything was so clear now, so defined, and colorful. It was like coming up for air after being underwater for too long.

He owed Danny a big one.

Soon he heard the roaring engine of Jazz’s bike and adjusted his course to follow it, finding her speeding into the night, her turns sharp and precise, with a clear destination. It wasn’t hard to determine where she was going, actually, since sounds of the fight were getting louder as well.

There it was, the floating figure of the meta - or ghost, as he now stood corrected - flying around what Jason assumed was the ghost that was behind all the mess.

He landed about at the same time Jazz drifted into a stop and turned off the engine, quickly taking off the helmet, eyes fixed on the ghost fight going on.

“Oh, hello!” Danny flew past them, coming back into the fray. He dodged some rays that came out of nowhere and shot back another green blast of his own.

“What is he actually fighting?”

Jazz glanced at him and sighed. She took his hand and-

Oh. Oh.

What he initially thought was a green weird vortex was actually shaped like a person, and someone he actually recognized.

“Is that fucking Elvis Presley?”

Jazz laughed, letting go of his hand. Whatever she did made him able to properly see the ghost on his own, see how Elvis strung his guitar and somehow the notes became tangible and were very, very sharp.

He jumped out of the way of one of the notes.

“The fuck?”

“Welcome to my world,” she said with a little smirk. “And that’s not actually Elvis - apparently is an Elvis impersonator, the kind that marries people in Vegas.”

Okay, that was making some sense. It didn’t explain why the fuck a ghost could just… do that kind of stuff.

“Why-”

“If you don’t mind, Q&A can happen later.” Her smile turned nervous as they heard Danny scream and be knocked to the ground.

Jason could only agree. That fall seemed to hurt. In any case, Danny stood up in less than a second, blasting more of those green rays.

Jazz jumped in this time, screaming at her brother and asking him what he needed. Too slippery, Danny explained. If he tried to get closer to get a proper punch Elvis would just sing a song and knock him back.

“I need a distraction.”

“I can do that.” Jasmine nodded. “Lead the way, Danny-o.”

“I hate that so much.”

The siblings rushed to where the ghost was floating, amused with the interaction, and watching - he was watching Jason. The fucking guy knew about him and Jazz and thought that the whole thing was amusing.

“Eat this!” Jazz screamed as she started shooting, making a nuisance of herself and impossible to ignore.

She ran up to where not-Elvis was waiting for her, her shots not meant to hit the ghost but the floating notes surrounding him, knocking them away from the defense barrier. Danny jumped in once he saw his chance, hand ready to grab the ghost-

Elvis laughed, took a breath and opened his mouth. “At last~!”

The blast pushed the Fenton siblings back, Danny just barely in time to catch Jazz before she hit the ground.

“-my love has come along~”

Was that…?

“My lonely days are over and life is like a song~”

Etta James? Was the Elvis ghost seriously singing that?

Jason looked at where Jazz was wincing and trying to cover her ears. Right, his mouthpiece went over the ears and muffled some of the sound, so he wasn’t as affected. Danny was worse, barely able to stand up with the noise - Phantom had sensitive ears, they’ve come to learn in their investigation of what they thought was a metahuman.

He needed to help them.

Quickly, he ran to where Jazz was struggling to aim her gun with the horrible noise, and opened her left holster to steal one of her guns.

“Consider this payback!” he shouted at her, but she probably couldn’t hear him or read his lips with the mask in the way.

“My heart was wrapped up in clover~” Jason aimed at the ghost’s chest, not sure if it would actually work. “-the night I looked at-”

He took the shot. One, two, three times. The guns were different from what he was used to, but familiar enough to not skew his aim too much. It was more like a laser gun from a sci-fi TV series - but it did real damage.

Elvis screamed and grunted, knocked back a little by the shot. At least he stopped singing.

“Thanks,” Jazz breathed in relief. “You can keep that, for now.” She nodded at the weird ray gun in his hand.

He rolled his eyes at her words, not giving her the satisfaction at the call back to the mall fight, and nodded at her.

“Any pointers I need?”

“They heat up a little more than a normal gun, so space out the shots. No need to reload, or anything like that,” she glanced nervously at Danny, who recovered quickly and started blasting the ghost. “We don’t need to kill him, just tire him enough so he stays still for capture.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t stay in the same place too long - even if your core is not fully developed, ecto blasts will probably hurt you.”

That was something he wanted to follow up on later, but let it go for now. “Understood.”

Jazz breathed in, breathed out. “And don’t die.”

This made him chuckle. “Never try to.”

She rolled her eyes. “Could have fooled me.”

Before he could continue the banter, Jazz tensed and jumped back. Right where she had been standing a stray green blast hit the ground.

“DANNY.” She screamed in the general direction of the fight.

“Sorry~” The halfa singsonged as he flew by, dodging more of those music notes with ease. “It’s not my fault that you lovebirds chose this moment to-”

“Shield!”

He didn’t hesitate - Danny obeyed his sister and put up a green shield without looking, just in time to block incoming attacks that would have hit them all.

It was obvious that these two had fought together before. A team. There was an underlying trust between them, in the way that as soon as the attack stopped, Jazz jumped into action and slid from under the fading shield, guns at the ready.

Elvis didn’t expect that, eating a few blasts in the face.

“Why!?�� He screamed. “Why are you guys getting in the way of love~!”

This time they were ready when the sonic blast hit - Jason knew when his turn was due, standing up and shooting at the ghost in the chest, now a bit more familiar with what he had to do with the gun.

“Not bad, sweetheart.” Jazz patted him in the arm and took a few shots of her own.

Danny lunged again, closing the distance with the ghost, arms ready to grab him and make him stand still. Elvis growled, strumming his acoustic guitar once again; but instead of notes, what appeared were staves, the five lines where usually the notes were placed in a music sheet.

The lines approached Danny faster than he could dodge them all, grabbing him by the arms and legs.

“Oh, no, I’m definitely not into that shit!”

He transformed his legs into a tail and managed to get it free, but the arms stayed tangled in the magical ghostly lines.

“Distract him.” Jazz gave Jason her gun and withdrew one of the knives she had on her vest, making a run for her brother.

Alright. He can be a nuisance.

Jason quickly grappled away into a more advantageous position where he had a clear sight of the ghost from behind. He aimed and shot, ready for the glare and the strumming of the guitar, for the sharp music notes and the strings of staves coming after him.

He jumped away, flipping and missing the attacks by inches, not having time to stop between the onslaughts. Ghosts didn’t tire of get out of breath, it seemed, because pretty quickly he had to make a jump and seek solace behind some brick structure on the rooftop only so he could take a breather.

“What the-”

One of the guns was making a beeping sound, the green light (leds?) on the side blinking slowly. It didn’t look good. He had to go back and ask Jazz what was wrong with it.

He took a peek and the ghost Elvis’ attention was back on the siblings, Danny now free and flying circles around the enemy, looking for a chance to strike that wasn’t reflected by a magical music note or parried with the guitar.

Jason carefully grappled back to the ground, seamlessly landing next to where Jazz was running behind the flying ghosts down the road.

“Hey, wanna switch?”

She glanced at him, doing a double take once she saw the beeping gun. “Throw that!”

He didn’t need to be told twice - without breaking his stride he hurled the thing as far as he could, in the direction of the fight, and watched as she threw her knife at it.

The explosion was bright, and loud, and now her wide eyes and panicked tone made sense. It also made sense why she carried so many guns.

“What-”

“Q&A later!”

Right. The fight.

Jason stopped just for a moment to pick up her knife, which got stuck on the concrete road, and followed her and the sounds of that horrible singing.

Soon it was obvious that the ghost wouldn’t stop and he was only playing with them, tiring them. Running around and shooting or throwing stuff at him didn’t get them anywhere, and Danny was being tossed to walls more easily, and recuperating a bit slower.

Jazz seemed to get to the same conclusion. She helped her brother up from the small crater he created when he landed after the latest sonic blast, telling him something via facial and hand gestures that Jason couldn’t follow.

Danny frowned but nodded, and was up in the air again.

“Hey.” She said once she turned to look at him, grabbing his hand and tugging on it. “Can you get me to that rooftop?”

He looked at where she was pointing and nodded. No sweat. He had done higher than that.

“Hop on, princess.”

She huffed but walked into his awaiting arms, looping her arms around his neck, and didn’t comment on the pet name or how his grip on her waist was a bit firmer than was necessary.

Even with the added weight his grapple gun could make the trip up to where she asked him to, and soon they were running to the other side of the roof and towards where Danny had cornered the ghost in a nearby alley.

“It’s over, dude. Surrender.”

Elvis stopped, carefully strumming some chords in his guitar, considering. If he knew they were watching from the roof, he didn’t show it.

“You can’t stop me, you can’t stop my work.”

“Dude, you are marrying complete strangers without their consent. That’s not cool at all.”

Jason watched as Jasmine quietly unlooped the giant rifle she still had on her back, kneeling so she could start preparing it. Was she going to use it? Part of him was excited, he was curious to see what kind of damage it could do, and why she had called it “Moral Support” - the name was badass as hell.

“They are not strangers, they have potential!” Elvis did a riff on his guitar, making a point. “They will have enough time to get to know each other! That’s what love is for!”

Jason winced. That was not how love worked, not that he had a lot of experience, but he had been painfully aware of every one of his brother’s and Bruce’s failed relationships.

(And his parents’.)

Just as quietly as she was assembling the gun, Jazz scoffed. She apparently shared his opinion.

Good.

Not that it was important, since they would not be married anymore after they caught the ghost.

(What a shame. This was fun. She was fun.)

“It doesn’t matter if you don’t agree, young King,” Jazz jumped and looked up from her work, eyes wild, “because what I started cannot be stopped. I cannot be stopped! I am cupid, the love god, and is my duty to-”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Get in the thermos.”

“Didn’t you hear? I am the love god!”

“And I’m Danny Phantom, now get in the thermos!”

Jazz rolled her eyes, the weapon in her hands now properly assembled once she pushed a button. It made a noise like it was charging up and she placed down on the floor, getting down in position. Jason couldn’t stop noticing how comfortable she looked, prone on the rooftop, with what he could guess was some kind of sniper rifle in her hands, waiting for her shot.

She had done this before. And she looked gorgeous.

A scream brought him out from his musings and he looked away from the sniping goddess to find the retreating figure of the Elvis ghost flying away faster than how he had flown as they fought him. Danny quickly followed, trying to slow him down.

He looked at Jazz again, how she tensed and relaxed, how she controlled her breathing and put her finger on the trigger.

“Stop breathing.”

It took a second to realize she was talking to him. He obeyed, holding his breath, waiting to see if she could make the shot. They were getting away, and fast, and whatever that big ass gun did couldn’t be good if she hit her brother by accident. It showed the amount of trust between them-

Jazz whistled, the piercing sound loud on his ears, and Danny moved away just in time to avoid the brightest laser Jason had ever seen. It was big, it made a noise like a firework as it soared through the sky, hitting the ghost right in his chest before he could make a shield or use his guitar to stop it.

Elvis trembled in the air as if shocked by a taser for a few seconds, his form flickering, unstable, before plummeting to the ground.

Jazz breathed in relief and stood back up.

“Good shot,” he couldn’t help but say. That was impressive. “That shit must have a recoil like crazy.”

“It really does,” she rolled her shoulder, “and it can only take one shot before having to recharge for a day. But it’s worth it.”

Just one shot, huh.

“What does it do?”

She made a face, quickly picking up the rifle and undoing her previous work. “It destabilized a ghost’s core. Momentarily.”

That didn’t sound good. It sounded dangerous, and by her somber expression, it was painful and cruel.

But it was the only thing that stopped that ghost.

“You did well.”

She looked at him funny, like she didn’t expect supporting words. “I know. Let’s go.”

Jazz looped the strap of the gun around her neck again and jumped into his arms without prompting. It felt good, natural, to have her close. Her touch was cold even through the layers of the suit, but it wasn’t uncomfortable; and the way her body perfectly fit with his, like it was meant to be there, was… nice.

Maybe it was the curse speaking, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like it.

In any case, he had to shelve those thoughts until he could unpack that underlying attraction, and maybe check if she was okay with it?

He quickly grappled them to where he saw the ghost fall, gently letting her down, and smiling when she said a quiet “thank you”, even if she couldn’t see it.

They found Danny smugly standing next to a green dome with the Elvis ghost sitting in it, defeated. His arms crossed over his chest and his lips in a pout, and his guitar broken at his side. However, his face lit up when he saw them land together.

“Oh, yes, my greatest match!”

Jazz didn’t find it funny. She immediately pointed a gun at the ghost.

“Undo it.”

He laughed. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” She placed her finger on the trigger. Jason appreciated the enthusiasm, but he wasn’t sure if the shot would bounce on the green shield.

Elvis chuckled, and stood - flew? Floated? - to an upwards position.

“Honey, a royal bond cannot be broken that easily.”

She froze. “A what?”

The ghost sighed, clasping his hands together with a wistful expression. “What was my surprise when I saw you two together at the mall. My greatest work! The Princess and a Knight, a match made in heaven.”

Jason saw the moment Jazz’s mind disconnected. He wasn’t following what was going on that well, but by Danny’s sudden ashen expression and how he tried to sneakily step away from his sister’s field of vision, he assumed something was up.

“You guys even did the rope ceremony on your own! It was destiny, I tell you. Destiny.” He turned to look at Jason now, his red eyes piercing. “The moment I saw you fight together I knew this would be my magnum opus.”

“Danny? What is he talking about?” She lowered her gun, but Danny froze like she was pointing it at him. “Princess? Royal bond?”

“Uh… I may have- I mean, I was gonna tell you when I visited, I promise, but stuff came up and then-”

“Danny.”

“I may have, uh, I am the Ghost King now?” He smiled nervously.

Jazz wasn’t smiling back.

---

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edupunkn00b · 9 months

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Ours, Ch. 1: My Invitation

My Invitation - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

A mysterious stranger tells Roman the truth about his brother's disappearance and offers a helping hand.

WC: 1552 - Rated: T - CW: Discussion of vampires, feeding, and hunting @royalityweek Day 1: Invitation A standalone Royality story set in the same universe as Beside Me, Dee, and the upcoming Thrall. -

It had been three months since Roman had last seen his brother. It had been three weeks since he’d last spoken to him.

And three days since he’d woken up to Remus’ final, rambling text.

Ro I have to try Ro nothing else has worked the meds, the shocks, none of it works. They say this helps and it’s gotta work it’s just gotta. I can’t go back I just can’t go back and I’m not gonna go back I’m gonna try this and I if it works when you see me again I’m healed

Roman didn’t bother with a photograph. His face was all he needed.

“Hey, I’m looking for my brother,” he pushed a smile onto his face as he approached a couple waiting for the bus. “He looks just like me, just with a mustache and—“

“Sorry, can’t help you,” the guy muttered, giving him a brief, tight smile. All lip and no teeth. He wouldn’t even meet his eyes.

The girl hanging on his arm was friendlier but just as unhelpful. “We really wish we could help,” she’d cooed, blown pupils revealing just how high she was. Her head rested on the guys shoulder and her eyes kept drifting over to his as she talked, drawn by a string. Their bus hissed as it slowed to a stop in front of them. “Hope you find him,” she purred, then let the guy usher her up into the bus.

“Thanks,” Roman muttered as he stepped back and the door closed in his face. He waited until the bus growled and tumbled down the otherwise deserted street. Nothing was open this late at night, but this was Re’s favorite time. Cool air, well, as cool as summer got in the concrete jungle.

And quiet. Re liked to joke that after last call and all the bars closed, fewer people in the streets made it easier for him to tell that the voices he heard were coming from his head and not passers-by.

Roman never thought the joke was very funny.

A door opened two blocks down and a splash of light and music spilled out into the night. Something was open. Roman watched a tall silhouette slink down the sidewalk, turning in profile before disappearing into the shadows. It wasn’t Re. But perhaps someone there had seen his brother somewhere? He knew it was a long shot, but he’d already checked every hospital, every morgue. After the second hospitalization, Re signed a blanket disclosure for him, so he knew his brother hadn’t been readmitted.

And the police? Once they’d pulled up his arrest record, the cops had been less than worthless, with the kindest of them hinting that maybe he should take Re’s disappearance as a gift.

As much as Roman didn’t want to find his brother in a fucking bar, it was better than not finding him at all and he hurried to the door. The front was clean, well-kept, and the heavy wood door and the brass handle was polished. The place was old, but not decrepit-old, more like… fine antique old.

He reached for the handle but before his fingers closed around the fingerprint free metal, an impossibly strong hand wrapped around his arm and yanked him into the darkened alley.

“Do you have a death wish?” a voice growled, incongruously soft baby blue eyes glinted back at him in the darkened alleyway.

“What?” Roman tried to pull away but the man’s grip was too strong. He stepped closer and into a pool of light bleeding from the streetlamps across the way. He was tall and… broad, dressed in a long grey trenchcoat and some kind of paramilitary-looking khakis, pockets bulging. He had some kind of knife thing strapped to one thigh, his hand hovering over it like he was just itching to shank him right there in the alley.

“Look, I… I don’t have a lot of money but just take it,” Roman tried again to pull away. The guy stayed centered and when Roman feinted in one direction, he wasn’t fooled, staying on him.

“Money?” The guy suddenly laughed and released his arm. “I don’t want your money. I’m trying to save your life. That’s a vampire’s den.”

“Those aren’t real, they’re—”

The door opened and the guy pulled him into the shadows, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. “Shh, and watch…”

A man and a woman emerged from the bar—what the hell was a bar doing still open after last call, anyway? They stood right under the streetlamp, giving Roman a good look at them. The man clung to her arm just like the couple from the bus stop, dazed and high, holding on to her like she’d hung the moon.

“Oh, my sweet…” The man whined and tilted his head, like he was enticing her with his neck. “Now, now, not out here… Emile would sooner stake me than let me take you outside.” She traced a line down his neck and the man shuddered under her touch.

What caught Roman’s eyes, though, were the two puncture wounds her hand revealed. “Let’s get you home, my sweet. I’m getting hungry again.”

The rest of their words were muffled under a haze of static as Roman sank down to the dirty alleyway. A high pitched keen filled his ears and it took a minute for him to realize that was him.

Warm, calloused hands closed over his and he gripped back reflexively, the guy’s hairy knuckles and the fuzziness on the backs of his hands oddly comforting. “Hey, Kiddo, just breathe for me, okay…” He squeezed his hands, inhaling slowly and deliberately. Roman tried to copy him, but broke into a panting sob.

“That’s good, that’s a good try…” The guy praised him anyway. “Try again now,” he murmured. His voice was low and strong, not whispering, but quiet words just for him. Roman realized he was speaking right next to his ear. He should be freaked out, he should push him away. But he just felt… safe. He tried again to copy his breathing and this time he could do it.

“Very good, that’s it…” he said and Roman slowly nodded. “No bloodsucker’s gonna hurt you with me around, okay?”

Roman lifted his head and the guy’s eyes widened. “It’s you, but…”

“You’ve seen me before?”

He leaned in, breathing deeply, almost like he was smelling him. The guy shook his head. “Not you…” he said slowly.

“With a mustache?” Roman scrambled to his feet. “You’ve seen my twin? My brother Remus, I—”

“Oh…” His face fell, sorrow and pity crumpling his features. “I’m so sorry. I…” The guy gripped his arms and Roman had the distinct feeling he was holding him upright. “I’ve seen your brother… he…”

The guy hung his head and the streetlight filtered through his blonde curls, giving him almost a halo. The rough tone clashed with the angelic softness and Roman was suddenly grateful for the guy’s tight grip on his arms as his knees weakened. “The bloodsuckers got him,” he finally said.

“What? No—” Roman shook his head. His face and neck grew wet and he stared back at the guy past blurry vision. “Where… his body? He’s not in the morgues… I checked… I checked every John Doe… No, I—”

“Oh, Kiddo,” he whispered now and pulled him into a big bear hug. Roman sobbed against his shoulder like a baby. After all this? A vamp got him? “There’s no body, Kiddo. They… they turned him.”

Rage burned through Roman’s veins. Vamps stole his brother, his whole family, and they didn’t even leave him a body to bury, to say goodbye to? “How… how do you know?” His voice shook. It couldn’t be true.

“I saw it happen, Kiddo. From the roof.”

"And you just watched!?" Roman pulled back but the guy’s iron grip kept him in place. “Why didn’t you—“

He shook his head. “By the time I saw—“

“How hard is it to see a vamp biting into a man’s neck?”

“You don’t understand… People come here to… to feed them. They… they like it. I thought… I thought your brother…” The guy swallowed hard, like he might be sick. Horror churned in Roman’s guts as realization grew.

He shook his head, rage freezing hard and cold in his chest. “No…”

“Once I realized, I jumped down, but I wasn’t fast enough. V had taken him.”

“I’ll kill him.”

The guy stared at him and Roman just stared back. “There’s nothing you could possibly say to change my mind. My brother and I fought everything together. When Re got sick, we lost everything. Everyone. All we had was each other. Without Re… without Re I have nothing. And nothing left to lose.”

“Not even your life?” The guy’s blue eyes pierced right through him, but Roman didn’t look away.

The guy stepped back but still wouldn’t let him go. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, if you’re going after the most dangerous bloodsucker in the city, you’re gonna need help, then, won’t you?

“What do you know about The Hunters?”

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 1 year

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Namor (MCU) X Mexican!OC

MASTERLIST

Part I Here

Part II Here

Part III Here

Part IV Here

Part V Here

Part VII Here

Synopsis:

War photographer Sadie Medina is one day mysteriously whisked away on a mission that is suspiciously secret for a botanical expedition. A tragic twist of the events leads to her getting too close to something she should’ve never found, and too close to people who, by all odds, was never supposed to meet, be imprisoned by, and much less grow close to.

Word count: 2,169

Warnings: MCU typical violence, mentions of war, mentions of death and un-aliving people.

A/N: In case you feel more comfortable reading on AO3, you can find the link right here.

*Disclaimer: I’m by no means an expert on Mayan, but I did my best (by this I mean I looked for the best translator possible) and sorry for any mistakes. Handy little translations at the end, if needed.

“Why won’t you listen to me, Xmeech?”

Mercedes sighed as she poured piping hot coffee into her grandmother’s mug, who looked at her with concern.

“Chiich please, let’s not start this again.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on going to such dangerous places,” the older woman insisted, taking the carton of milk her granddaughter offered her.

“I do what I must, chiich, and can we not argue about this every single time I come to visit, please?” Xmeech said with a weak smile, taking the woman’s hands in hers.

“In chan nikté, why won’t you let him rest in peace?” her grandmother asked with a glint of sadness in her voice. “Your father was a good man, and he raised a beautiful, brave young woman whom he loved with all his heart. Don’t you think he would have wanted you to settle down? To have a peaceful life with somebody who loves you like he loved my daughter?”

Neither of those things was going to happen anytime soon. While she had never thought she wasn’t attractive enough to find someone, Mercedes knew that her life was much too complicated on its own to drag somebody else into that mess. Whenever the occasional over-confident man approached her and attempted to lure her in with empty compliments before asking what her plans for the next day were, Mercedes felt tempted to reply with the truth just so they’d leave her alone.

“Chiich, I…”

A petrifying scream from her grandmother made her come to just in time to feel an odd tingle on her fingers. Suddenly she felt tired and dizzy, and for a split second, she closed her eyes and wondered if she was going to faint. Her entire body felt heavier and for a split second she thought she'd seen her hand fade into...ashes?

Whatever was wrong, must’ve solved itself, because chiich had stopped screaming. Opening her eyes, Mercedes stood up so violently she almost fell on her rear when she found herself sitting in front of a stranger, who looked at her equally baffled.

“Who are you?” she stuttered, looking around the room before storming out of the kitchen and into the hall that led to her grandma’s bedroom, calling out for her all the time.

Mercedes swung the door open to find a room she did not recognize. The giant, old bed she’d used as a trampoline as a child had been replaced by a tiny mattress, the pale blue walls were now white, and pictures of people she didn’t know hung from the walls. Hearing steps behind her, the woman grabbed the nearest object, a lamp, and held it above her head.

“Who are you?” she yelled at the young man that walked in showing his palms, begging her to calm down. “Where is my grandmother?”

“Calm down, please,” he urged her, “I will tell you everything, but put that down.”

“Where is she?” Mercedes insisted, throwing away the lamp and grabbing the man by his shoulders. However, she realized he didn’t look scared. It was something much, much worse.

He looked at her with pity.

“Listen…I think you should sit down.”

“Mercedes!”

“What? What is it?” she gasped out for air and sat up on the hammock, surprised to find Namor standing next to her, “What are you doing here? Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” The man returned the question, his worried eyes still visible under the dim light of the vibranium lamps in her room.

“Sure. I had a bad dream, that’s all,” She stated, flustered. Mercedes realized this was the second time he had surprised her in the middle of a nightmare. “I’m sorry if I woke you up,”

He seemed to notice something on her face. Namor leaned closer so suddenly that she instinctively moved away. He softly apologized before touching a spot on her cheek with his thumb, wiping something off.

“Were you crying in your sleep?,” He said. Mercedes violently wiped her eyes, feeling self-conscious after his question. He didn’t say anything else, and the only sound that could be heard was Mercedes sniffling occasionally.

“When I lost my mother, I had seen it coming for some time,” Namor finally spoke, carefully sitting on the edge of Mercedes’ hammock, “And for a while, I hated seeing how all the other children grew up, found a partner, and built a life, with their mothers there to witness it. I hated constantly remembering my mom would never get to see me do any of those things.”

Namor noticed Sadie’s inquisitive look and knew she was about to ask how did he know her nightmare was about her father.

“You were talking in your sleep,” He explained.

“After hundreds of years, did it ever go away? The pain, I mean?” she asked, sleepily resting her head against her small pillow. With an apologetic look, Namor shook his head.

“No. I still miss her every single day.”

When he looked at her again, he noticed she was almost asleep again. Her eyes were barely open, and he could only see a small chocolate-colored band through her eyelids. He slowly started to get up to leave when she grabbed his hand and said something to him that he couldn’t quite catch.

Namor knelt next to the hammock and asked her to repeat it, leaning a little bit closer.

“What was she like?” Mercedes asked, resting on her side to look at him.

He didn’t answer immediately. It took him about three minutes to finally start talking. He told her about the way she would describe the surface world to him in such a beautifully nostalgic way, and he reminisced about the time they had that difficult conversation where she told him she wanted to be buried in the world she’d grown up in.

And it was like that, soothed by the sound of his voice telling stories and sometimes even laughing a little to himself that Mercedes finally drifted off.

After several hours of peaceful, nightmare-less sleep, Sadie woke up feeling well-rested and wanting some breakfast. She was about to jump from the hammock when the sight of an asleep Namor on the floor next to her stopped Sadie dead in her tracks. He had placed a blanket and several pillows on the floor and was completely passed out.

Moved, she carefully placed her own blanket on him. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep.

She liked the way his eyebrows perfectly framed his eyes, giving him that calm expression instead of the usual aggressive determination. Two weeks ago they were yelling at each other through the bars of a cell and now he was staying in her room to lull her to sleep with stories about his mother. The mere thought was bewildering.

Sadie left the room to get breakfast. A few days ago she had set a few traps around the water inside the grottos after she realized there were fish down there. Being in an underwater cave, she expected the fish to be small and with little meat, but the nonpolluted water allowed for fauna to thrive in amazing ways, and so she managed to add protein to her diet.

Turning around a corner, she found herself before Namora. Having interacted with her a few more times, the Talokanil warrior seemed to be warming up to her, going as far as cracking a smile when they exchanged greetings, which was the case this time.

“Hi, Namora,” She said with a slight nod, which the other female reciprocated in the customary Talokanil way. Sadie knew she had reached a new level of familiarity when even Attuma started greeting her with that hand gesture.

“Mercedes, wait a minute, have you seen K’uk’ulkan?”

“Yes, he should be asleep in my room.” She said, unaware of how it sounded until Namora’s expression said it all.

“No! I mean, he is, but not in that way. Listen, I was having a nightmare and he was there and I asked him not to go, so he told me stories about his mother until I fell asleep.”

For some reason that sounded even worse than just admitting they’d slept together. Mercedes decided to just stop rambling. It took Namora a good few seconds to start talking again.

“You don’t have to explain yourself. Enjoy your breakfast, thank you,”

And with that, she disappeared around the corner. Sadie scrunched her nose apprehensively, hoping she hadn’t unwittingly caused any problems.

“If there is something I need to know about, you have one minute to tell me,”

The sudden, loud voice woke up the asleep Namor, who scrambled to his feet cursing to himself.

“What are you talking about?,” He asked, still half-asleep and blinking rapidly. After taking a quick glance at the hammock he realized it was empty. “Where is she?”

“I just ran into her. I mean it, is there something you want to share with me?”

“I don’t see how that’s any…”

“Any of my business? See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Namora asserted, taking a peek outside to make sure no one was nearby before talking in an angry whisper, “As your lieutenant, I’m worried that my king might be literally sleeping with the enemy, and as your cousin, I’m worried that you’re only going to get hurt. “

“’ The enemy’? I thought the two of you got along,”

“We do, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still cautious around her,” Namora sighed and leaned against the wall, “Listen, as your friend, I need to know what’s going on. Do you have feelings for her?”

“Fine. I don’t, alright? Not in the way you think, don’t worry. I’ll admit I…enjoy her company. She asks smart questions and knows how to make conversation.”

“And…?” Namora asked with a raised eyebrow. Namor fell for it.

“And it’s amusing to see how highly she thinks of herself but still refuses to admit she’s arrogant. See, she has all these ideas that are so different from mine, so hearing them is strange. Yes, she’s strange I’d say. ”

“Strange as in ‘different to anybody you’ve ever met?’”

Without replying, he gave her a sullen look.

“I see what you’re implying, and you’re wrong,” He said defensively and walked around her toward the entrance.

“You know she is leaving, right?” Namora said as her cousin walked past her. “After all, you told her that her stay would be temporary. And are you aware that after she leaves, you’ll most likely never see her again?”

“I am aware, and I feel fine about it,” K’uk’ulkan assured, calmly, “But she’s not leaving anytime soon,”

“Because of our safety or because you don’t want her to?”

“That is enough, Namora,” He snapped, “Lieutenant or cousin, you’re out of line, I already answered your question and the only one I have to answer to for my actions is myself. Now, what did you need me for?”

Knowing she wouldn’t get anything else from him, Namora nodded. She didn’t want him to be mad at her, or she might not be able to retake the subject later on.

“It’s Attuma. One of his men found something in the wreckage of the ship we found a few days ago that we thought you might want to see,”

Once they descended into Talokan, Attuma was already waiting for them in the throne room with a small, transparent pouch.

“My men found this. Apparently, this fungus was the vessel’s only cargo.” Attuma carefully handed Namor the package before continuing, “After analyzing it, turns out it’s not the first time this has fallen into Talokanil hands. It contains the spores that nearly killed Namora not so long ago,”

“And Mercedes said that she was part of an expedition that came down here searching for samples of several plants, these included.”

“K’uk’ulkan, that’s not the only thing they found,” Attuma added, retrieving a metallic device with a crystal vial attached to it, “We found this among the remains. It is identical to the one your friend used to give Namora the antidote,”

“You should ask Mercedes what she remembers about the people that arrived with her. That might give us an idea of how dangerous these people really are.”

“Attuma,” Namor asked, addressing his other lieutenant, “Was the ship’s storage full?”

When the answer was negative, he furrowed his eyes thoughtfully until an idea struck him.

“Tell your men to register every inch of the ship. We must find the captain’s log to see if the ship had more cargo.”

“What are you thinking, K’uk’ulkan?” asked Namora.

“The place where we found Mercedes wasn’t far from one of the entrances to our tunnels. If these people have a potential weapon with them, I want twice as many guards watching that entrance. I’ll talk to her and see what else I can find out.”

“Doesn’t this mean that she didn’t tell you everything before? Can we rely on what she tells us?” Attuma asked, visibly unsure.

The Talokanil leader rose from his throne and, after bowing his head softly to dismiss both warriors, left the room without answering Attuma’s question.

#mcu namor #namor fic #namor #mcu fanfiction #mcu #namor x oc #tenoch huerta #talokan #namor fanfiction #aqua papi #black panther #black panther 2 #black panther wakanda forever #kukulkan #k'uk'ulkan #namor imagine #namor fanfic #namor x female oc

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teaberrii · 2 years

Text

The Best Worst Birthday Ever

This may be the worst birthday ever... until you appeared.

Childe/You

Cross-posted on Ao3

Childe has had it with this day. He spilled coffee on himself, his computer crashed at work, and his backpack was soaked because of the water bottle in his bag. But now, it's not only his backpack that's drenched.

The one day he doesn’t bring an umbrella is the one day it pours. So not only is he the only one waiting at the intersection without an umbrella, but everyone’s also giving him looks.

Childe holds his backpack over his head and tries not to let the rain bother him. He takes out his phone from his pocket and stares at the date.

It’s his birthday. So, why does it feel like he’s being punished?

On the same day last year, he happily celebrated with a girlfriend who now hates him like no tomorrow. It’s not his fault that he broke things off because they just weren’t right for each other. Childe sighs as he looks down at his deadpan reflection in the growing puddle until…

He suddenly looks up and turns around. You’re lifting your arm and holding your umbrella over him. He recognizes you as a colleague from another department.

While you’ve exchanged polite greetings, it’s only recently the two of you started working together. Because of it, you've also exchanged numbers. Still, you’re a stranger to him, but a stranger that's slowly arousing his curiosity.

“...You look like you can use this,” you say.

Childe notices your shoulder getting wet and moves closer to you, so both of you are now safely under the umbrella. He takes the umbrella from you, and you put your hand inside your coat pocket. “Heading home?”

“I’m picking something up on my way back.” You look at the bakery just across the street. “I had something ordered.”

Childe looks at his watch. He isn’t in a hurry, so he asks, “...Need some company?” You don’t say anything, which makes Childe worry that he may have come off too strong. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I—”

You smile. “Nah, actually, it would be great if you came along. You’ll save me a trip.”

Childe doesn’t understand. But, before he asks, the light turns green, and you start walking across the street. He follows close behind to keep the rain off you. As soon as you enter the bakery, you walk up to the counter, where an employee immediately recognizes you.

“You’re right on time!” she says. She brings out a small, circle-shaped box. “We just finished boxing it up for you.”

You smile. “Thanks.”

When you and Childe leave the bakery and walk towards the bus stop, he looks at the box you're holding by its strings. “Who’s that for?”

“Someone special.” Childe’s heart unexpectedly drops. He isn’t surprised that you have a significant other, but the fact that it’s his birthday somehow hurts twice as much. A bus rolls in, and you look at him. “Do you mind holding onto this for me?”

Childe takes the box without question. He turns away when he hears another bus. Then, just as he looks back, you're suddenly gone. Wait. Where did you go? As he looks around, slightly panicking, he hears his phone buzz.

I only found out it was your birthday today… so I was going to give it to you tomorrow. And, don’t worry, I have an extra umbrella in my bag.

Then, Childe looks up and sees you’re sitting in the first bus that rolled in. You glance at him and give him a slight wave. Childe follows the bus for a few steps before it ultimately drives off.

Then, he looks at the box in his hand. He finds an empty seat and opens the cover just enough to see a small, beautiful cake with the message: Happy Birthday, Childe on the top. Then, his phone buzzes again.

I hope we get to know each other better.

Childe smiles, even as the rain continues, and he quickly types in a reply.

We’re off to a good start. :)

You glance at the message and smile. Then, just when you put your phone down, it buzzes again with another message from Childe.

Thank you, and stay warm. :)

A/N: I was walking home when it started raining. And then I saw someone at an intersection without an umbrella, and I somehow got inspired XD. It's also Childe's birthday, so... happy birthday, dear Childe (*＞ｖ＜)ゞ*゜+

#genshin childe #childe and reader #childe x you #childe x reader #childe #tartaglia fluff #childe fluff #genshin impact fanfic #genshin fanfiction #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #oneshot #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartagalia #tartaglia #tartagila #childe tartaglia ajax

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phantasmaltrain · 11 months

Text

chapter three for today!! :]

check it out on ao3 if you prefer that!

or read below the cut!

general summary :

ingo finds many things question worthy while trying to follow his brother.

word count :

1,707.

( in his pajamas and a trench coat, sure, but clearly intent on not being left in the dark. )

to the passerby folk, seeing the sight that was subway boss ingo striding down the sidewalk with the motivation of an irritated tauros, yet looking as if he had just hardly rolled out of bed, was an odd sight, but everyone kept their comments to themselves.

it was nimbasa city, anyways. there was hardly anything you could consider a normal sight.

further up ahead, with emmet walking with roughly the same amount of resolve, nobody bothered question that either.

and to the much fewer who had put together the two were in a tense pursuit of one another, it raised mild flags, but it was rightfully not their buisness to interfere.

( for it being somewhat late in the evening, the streets were hardly close to empty. ingo noted that with a silent huff, weaving in and out of groups of strangers and somewhat familar passengers alike with an apology and polite tip of his hat; like he always did. )

( though perhaps falling into work habits now of all times, especially when this was now family buisness, at least to him, was to mask the concern sitting in his chest, like an uncomfortable, shifting weight. )

( something about today in general frankly disturbed him, even if it was just a little bit, and he certainly did not appreciate the lack of context he was being given. )

( that, and he was worried. )

( rounding another corner, he nearly crashed face first into another man; ) who, clearly, was much more attentive then he was, and swerved out of the way with a mild look of surprise.

( while ingo quickly turned to sputter out an apology, ) the blonde haired man shook his head with a soft laugh.

“ hey, hey- don't worry about it. no hard feelings. ”

blinking a few times, the other man seemed to stare for a few moments, as if he was practically studying his expression, before nodding, snapping his fingers.

“ ah- you're subway boss ingo, right?”

“ yes, that would be me. although it seems you've caught me off my usual tracks. ”

( haftheartedly gesturing to the fact he was not in uniform, ) the blonde haired stranger nodded, eventually holding out one hand with a hum.

“ well it's a pleasure to meet you, off duty, mr. ingo. my name's volo. i don't think i've had the pleasure of taking the battle subway very often, i've stopped on the doubles lines a few times. ”

( ingo held his hand out as well , accepting the polite gesture of a handshake with a nod. ) eventually volo drew his hand back, craning his head while clearly rummaging through his pockets for something.

eventually procuring a light blue post it note, neatly folded up in half, then in half again the other way, he handed the paper to ingo, ( who took it from his hand tentatively with a puzzled tilt of his head. before he could even unfold it, ) volo chimed in, a now oddly chipper tone to his voice in comparison to before.

“ well, i don't mean to hold you up, seeing as you're clearly in a rush, but would you mind passing this on to your brother for me when you see him next? i meant to give it to him tommorow, but this just seems all too coincidental to not take the oppurtunity, hah. ”

( while still admittedly offput by the other's switch in demeanor, ingo did eventually respond with a firm nod. )

and with that, volo practically dissapeared into the crowd with a simple wave goodbye.

( blinking a few times, ingo did eye the paper a few times over, baffled as to what someone could need to tell emmet so soon, yet feel the need to use post it notes instead of, what-- a text or email, but it wasn't his buisness. he'd give it to him at the station, as promised. )

( ..then again, he never distinctly promised anything. )

( no, no, no, you are not opening that letter, ingo treyne-- the man scolded himself practically like a toddler, stuffing the note in his jacket pocket and continuing on his way. )

( trodding right through the interpol station doorway, ingo quickly swept over the 'waiting' sort of area, eventually spotting emmet amongst the rather quiet room. )

the man was sitting half hunched over in a chair with his head rested on his hands; he kept bouncing his knee; the source of the constant “tap tap tap” echoing through the room, and his mouth did not move once, ( not even when ingo walked over and sat down beside him. )

“ emmet? are you ok? ”

tap. tap. tap.

“ you haven't informed me of anything that happened today, emmet. i'm concerned. ”

tap. tap. tap.

“ are you upset with me, or is right now just not a talking time? i don't need you to speak to me, emmet, but- ”

taptaptaptaptaptap--

still staring at the ground, a repeated clicking sound still eminating from the heel of his shoe hitting the floor, emmet held up one hand, then what one could read as a peace sign.

two fingers; that meant the latter.

( ingo could not help but sigh in relief. )

” that works. is it alright if we communicate like this until you've done what you need to do here, or until you're ok to talk? “

emmet's two fingered gesture then changed to a thumbs up.

” alright. how are you feeling right now? “

a thumbs up quickly shifted to a thumb's down.

“ ..is it related to what happened this morning? “

back to a thumb's up.

“ did you know something was going to happen today? ”

while he seemed uncertain, his hand stayed in a thumbs up.

“ how? ”

no response.

“ ah - no, that's too broad of a question. did someone tell you, or did you know on your own? ”

one finger. that meant the former.

“ were they on the doubles line today? ”

( ingo began to search his pockets for the note, ) while emmet's gesture of choice changes to a thumb's up.

( he carefully retrieved the pale blue slip of paper, showing it to the man sitting beside him; ) as emmet's expression turned from that of a frustrated look to just stunned, ( ingo had a solid idea on what to ask next. )

“ did they write on post it notes and go by the name volo? ”

emmet practically nabbed the paper right from his hands without responding.

( while ingo was surprised by such a reaction of all things, he did not react or make any sort of comment, simply watching with a raised brow. )

eventually after skimming the contents, emmet quickly folded the note and stashed it away; glancing back to ingo, almost apologetically, at first, before his face seemed to twist into a more confused look.

( as ingo stared back, initially in understanding, he eventually looked equally puzzled, craning his head. )

silently answering the equally silent question, emmet pointed to one eye, winking, before pointing to ingo's face.

” ..huh? is there something on my face ? “

he shook his head. slightly more aggressive with the gesture, emmet nearly poked ingo in the eye, trying to get his point across with a huff.

” is there something wrong with my eye? “

a nod. emmet quickly fished his xtransceiver out of his pocket; turning on the camera, he held the device between the two of them, gesturing for ingo to lean over and look.

seeing the worry cross ingo's face at his own reflection, emmet's brows furrowed. eventually the man cleared his throat, making an attempt at voicing his concerns before being cut off.

“ mr. emmet treyne? there's an officer availible to take your case, now. ”

the man at the front desk spoke up, in the direction of the twins; emmet nearly shot out of his chair like a misfired rocket, stuffing the paper note as well as his xtrans back in his pocket, before briefly turning to ingo.

“ will explain later. promise. “

( another thing, ingo could note about his brother; he despised breaking promises nearly as much as he hated lying. )

( so a nod in response was all he needed to do to show he understood. )

( ultimately, ingo chose to hang around in the waiting room. )

( frankly, he was rather sure he should see a doctor; human pupils were not supposed to change shape, especially something as jagged as a triangle of all things. )

( while he did have to admit it looked quite cool-- it still was a pressing matter! )

( snapping him out of his thoughts, his xtrans buzzed a few times over. drawing it from his pocket, he skimmed the messages, noting they were from emmet. )

em 🚊 || 9:17pm

hello

do you know who is on overnight security duty at the station tonight

there is something the officers want to take a look at

( something that urgent had happened at the station as well? ingo could not help but bite down on his tongue. he knew emmet had left early due to a headache, according to what he had been told; but that was it. )

ingo || 9:18pm

Jackie always covers the night shifts. They’ll be there regardless. I believe Cameron is there as well tonight.

Why do you ask?

em 🚊 || 9:20pm

security cams

there is something important on the securities cams

verrry important

could you contact them and let them know we will be making an unexpected stop there they don’t get too caught off guard

more for cameron then jackie

ingo || 9:22pm

👍

( … )

( right. he had promised. promised to explain everything later. )

( with that, ingo excused himself outside of the building with a hum, dialing to make a call. )

#submas #subway boss ingo #subway boss emmet #pokemon wielder volo #pokemon au #pokemon #pokemon fic #pokemon fanfic #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon black and white #pokemon black and white 2 #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon legends #pla #subway boss kudari #subway boss nobori #depot agent jackie #depot agent cameron #split tracks au

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harrylee94 · 2 years

Text

Time Heals All Wounds - Chapter 2

You can also find this on AO3!

Summary: "Why am I alive, Mandalorian?" "Luck. None of the other pods made it. You were the only survivor." "So I'm your prisoner then. A trophy." "... Why would I take you prisoner?" "I'm your sworn enemy, Mandalorian. Why would I not?" "My sworn enemy?" "A Jedi."

Notes: He finally awakens! And he's in for a bit of a shock...

Chapter 1 ——————————————————————

A Jedi

Hyperspace was usually the place to clean armour, to fix small mechanical issues or eat an undisturbed meal, but with his passenger Din was forced to swallow down a quick ration bar while he checked in on the slumbering man.

It had been some hours now since he’d first gained his passenger, and he’d checked on him with increasing regularity, watching as the shivers steadily calmed, until the Crest had come to a stop. Now the craft was floating in orbit around the planet below he’d left the door to his bunk open.

The stranger had woken in fits and starts, mumbling words Din could barely make sense of or hear and shuffling under the blanket Din had left on him. He’d become increasingly lucid with each waking, and he suspected that it wouldn’t be long now before his grip on consciousness would take. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he did wake, but maybe feeding him would be a good start.

The bone broth he could make didn’t take much effort, easy to heat up from the frozen blocks he kept in his cold storage by the tiny area he was hesitant to call his kitchen, and probably the best thing for someone who hadn’t eaten anything in who knew how long, even if it might have only felt like a day or two for them. It had been almost a full day since they’d come out of the stasis pod already, Din having snatched a few sporadic hours of sleep when he thought he could risk it, so the sooner he woke, the better.

He was cleaning his blaster when he heard the sounds of his guest stirring, only for them to be stifled a moment later. His breathing smoothed out to mimic that of sleep, but it was too uniform, and Din could see through his HUD how the man’s heart rate had increased, if only by a fraction.

The act wasn’t surprising, and Din couldn’t bring himself to blame him for trying to protect himself in an unknown environment and situation, so he left him be for a while, expecting him to do something, but as time stretched on with no change he put his blaster away and his tools back in their case with a sigh.

“You should drink some water,” he said, rising to gather a cup.

The lingering silence returned, his guest continuing his charade as Din poured him some water, but they shifted when Din set the cup by his head.

“Well, good mornin’ to you too, stranger.”

The man’s voice rasped, harsh and dry, but the twang of it was a surprise Din hadn’t been expecting, and he found himself intrigued. The stranger didn’t move from where he lay, glaring at the cup before him as though it had done him wrong in a past life.

"You spent a long time in that pod,” Din continued, a little frustrated by the inaction but tried to push it down. “You need to drink."

Again his guest didn’t move for some time, but just as Din was about to urge him again he huffed and threw the blanket from his chest.

“Don’t touch me!” the man growled as Din reached in to try and help him to a seated position, those brown eyes flashing with such hate that it almost made Din pull back. Instead he held up his hands and waited.

With gritted teeth and what looked like a fair amount of effort, the stranger heaved himself up so he was leaning against the back wall of the sleeping chamber and pulled the cup Din had set before him with a dubious look. His eyes met Din’s with impossible accuracy through the visor, holding his gaze for a few tense seconds before he finally, finally, sipped at the water.

Din was very careful not to show his relief, but he kept watching as his guest continued to drink in slow, short swallows. The way this man was looking at him made him want to reach for his blaster, but he ignored the itch and kept his hands in sight.

As the level of water steadily lowered, the stranger’s gaze faded from hatred to a deep suspicion and confusion, and it wavered to flow over Din under a furrowed brow.

"Why am I alive, Mandalorian?" he asked, his drawl more pronounced and clear now that his throat had been soothed.

"Luck," Din replied. "None of the other pods made it. You were the only survivor."

Those expressive eyes shuttered with regret and sorrow in a moment so brief that Din would have missed it had he not been watching, to be replaced by a cold emotionless mask that distanced him even further as he straightened his back. "So I'm your prisoner then. A trophy."

A trophy? This man thought he was taking him in as a slave? The thought alone was revolting; he’d only ever taken a slave bounty once, and he had never made that mistake again. It had been easy money, but the memory of them, the scars on their back, their sallow and emaciated states, the feral fear that was a part of their very being, would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his days.

He wished this had been the first time someone had made that connection though, and he once again cursed the Mandalorians who had set such a standard.

The stranger took another sip as he waited.

"... Why would I take you prisoner?" he asked, gravitating towards the safer subject.

The man scoffed. "I'm your sworn enemy, Mandalorian. Why would I not?"

Din tilted his head to the side in confusion. "My sworn enemy?"

As far as he knew the only sworn enemy of the Mandalorians was the Empire, which is why he’d taken particular pleasure when he’d shoved the general into the carbon freeze, even if he hadn’t had much time to enjoy it.

"A Jedi."

The ‘Jedi’ raised his chin in a mix of pride and defiance, but as Din wracked his brain for any hint of a memory about this man’s people it began to lower again. Din tilted his head to the side, thinking perhaps the angle would help shake loose any old stories or rumours, but he found himself coming up blank.

"... Should I know what that is?"

Apparently that was the wrong answer — though he hadn’t known there was one — as the Jedi scowled at him and all but threw the now empty cup at him. With a bit of a fumble he managed to catch it. He’d been contemplating giving the Jedi the box that had been kept with him, he’d even taken it out of the weapons locker in preparation, but now he was wondering if that was such a good idea.

The Jedi huffed in amusement at his fumble, but grew wary when Din reached down to place the cup on the floor and out of his sight. Din held his spare hand up, palm facing the stranger, as he collected the box. When he revealed it, the man’s eyes grew wide.

"I found this in the pod with you,” he said, holding it in both hands now but not yet presenting it. “Is it yours?”

The Jedi stared at the box for some time before he slowly nodded.

Din sighed, chiding himself for considering the thought that he’d keep this from the stranger. He might not have known who or what he was, but it was clear he was attached to this box and whatever was held within it. Looking down at it one last time he held it out, offering it back to its owner.

The Jedi’s gaze caught Din’s with that uncanny accuracy and, with a flick of his wrist, the box flew from his hands, landing in the stranger’s outstretched palm.

Din almost stumbled, though he did make an involuntary noise of shock. What was this? Magic? A trick? He hadn’t found any devices that might have been on this man’s person, and even if he had he doubted any mechanisms would have survived the freeze, so how had he done it?

The stranger — con artist? Wizard? — ran his fingers over what must have been the lid, which had some sort of bird design on it, with a reverence that made Din feel like he was intruding on his privacy.

“I’ll… make you broth,” Din said, his head spinning as he stepped away.

The Jedi hummed but his attention remained fixed on the box, so Din left him be to heat up a frozen cube of bone broth over the single stove burner. He watched it attentively, his thoughts bubbling along with the broth as it steadily melted.

What kind of explanation could there be for what he just witnessed? They said they were a Jedi, so perhaps it was something to do with that. Did all Jedi have this ability? What was it? The only things he could think it could be was either magic or a trick, and no matter what way he looked at it, he couldn’t see how it could have been the latter. There was nothing in his bunk that could cause the box to jump out of his hands like that, the only thing within he could think of coming close being the controls for the door.

But magic?

He transferred the broth to a bowl and turned off the burner, setting the pan aside to clean or reuse later, and headed back to his bunk.

With the door still wide open he didn’t think anything of looking within without knocking, not something he was used to doing in the first place anyway, and so, when he turned the corner, he found himself catching the Jedi as he was in the middle of changing his tunic.

The stranger’s physique had more substance to it than Din had expected from what he’d felt when he’d carried him; though he was lithe his muscles were strong, a deceptive frame, and the scars… There were a number of burns that looked almost like whip scars, straight across his back or even curling around his side, but Din only caught a brief glance of them before they were covered by the red fabric of the fresh tunic that must have been kept in that box.

The question of being a trophy made a lot more sense now.

"Who are you?" the man asked, not looking at him as he adjusted the tunic.

"People call me Mando."

The Jedi hummed. "That sounds confusing."

"It's not."

His guest looked over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, as though he didn’t believe him — and with how he’d been reacting to everything Din had said so far, he wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case — before straightening out the last of the wrinkles in his tunic and retrieving a tube from the box. It was a strange looking cylinder, similar to a large fuse or coil, but there was a leather strip wrapped around it as though it were the hilt of a sword without a blade. Perhaps it was some sort of weapon, but it wasn’t one Din recognised, and who was he to deny someone their blade when weapons were part of his religion?

The Jedi looked at him again, waiting for… something, but when it failed to happen he frowned and attached the cylinder — hilt? — to his belt with a clip attached to the end.

After a few more moments of silence Din coughed and raised the bowl in his hands. “Did you want to eat your broth in there, or out here?”

The ridges in the stranger’s brow deepened. “... You’re letting me out?”

"You're not a prisoner,” Din said, stepping back. “Or a trophy."

The Jedi looked at the space Din had made with wary suspicion, but he shuffled himself towards the door until he could push his legs out. He continued to watch Din as he set himself on wobbly feet, his legs shaking from the effort, but Din knew better than to offer help and simply drew back to set the bowl on a crate that he used as a table when he felt the need.

His cleaning tools were still out on the crate as well, and once the stranger had set himself down Din sat as well. He waited for the man to pick up the bowl and take his first sip, tentative and hesitant though it was, before coughing to grab his attention.

“I’m going to clean my blaster,” he said as a warning, waiting for the Jedi to nod before removing it from its holster as his side, moving slowly and keeping the barrel pointed away from his guest before he started taking it apart. The Jedi watched his every move, but he relaxed some when it was in pieces and Din had picked up his tools.

He may have started to clean it before, but he started again to give himself something to do while the broth was slowly consumed. He kept a close eye on that, making sure it was all gone before it was set aside; this man was still weak, and he would need to rebuild his strength. He also looked far too thin.

"What do you plan to do with me?" the Jedi asked once he’d set his bowl aside.

Din thought for a moment, calculating how much time he could spare before deciding one last detour could be acceptable. Within reason, of course. "Where would you like to go?"

As was coming to be the norm, the Jedi regarded him with suspicion, but then his glare morphed into a disconcerting smirk. "How about Tython?"

Not a planet Din had heard of before, which boded well for a lack of ex-Imperial or New Republic forces, so he gave a curt nod. "I'll set a course."

The smirk fell into a look of disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"Why would I not be?"

The Jedi opened his mouth to answer, but all that emerged from his lips was a crackled breath before his mouth fell closed again. Din took that as a sign to pack his things and head up to the cockpit, though not before refilling the bowl with broth.

“Eat,” he said, then headed up the ladder.

Finding Tython on the system logs wasn’t too difficult, but it was almost on the other side of the galaxy to where they were, though much closer to Nevarro, relatively speaking. It probably would have been faster to get there from Corellia, but he hadn’t known then and there was no point in thinking on it further.

As he was plotting in the course a hand fell on his shoulder and he startled, his own hand falling to his reassembled blaster, only to let it fall away when he found the Jedi hovering at his shoulder. How he managed to sneak up on him he could not say — perhaps it was something to do with that magic he had witnessed before — but at least the man hadn’t flinched at his reaction.

"What are you doing?" the Jedi asked, eyes scanning the screen before them.

"I'm plotting a course to Tython," Din said, attempting patience and understanding, though he was unused to having to do so outside his work parameters.

"But why?"

"You asked."

"Yes, but why?!" the Jedi demanded, turning to him with an almost crazed look.

Din couldn’t keep from feeling some sort of sympathy for him; waking from a sleep neither of them could fathom the length of, coming face to face with a figure he had seen as an enemy, only to be treated as a guest, would have been maddening for almost anyone. There was nothing he could have said that would have given the Jedi any sense of clarity or peace, and so he didn’t.

"I think you need more time to rest," he said instead, rising from his seat and taking the Jedi’s arms in hand to lead him back towards the ladder. The fact that he let him only emphasised the state of shock his guest must have been in.

Getting down the ladder seemed to be done in a haze, the Jedi unfocused and almost falling had Din not bracketed him on the way down, and he didn’t react to the pressure of his armour with anything more than a grunt, from the way his spine his the hard surface of the cuirass.

"This doesn't make any sense," the stranger muttered once they reached the bottom, gripping Din’s arm as he looked off into the distance, eyes unfocused. "We're at war. We-we are enemies! You..."

"Sit," Din said, guiding him to settle on the same crate as before. He noticed the broth, at least, had been half finished before he’d decided to follow him up into the cockpit.

"When is this?” he asked as DIn collected a blanket from the bunk to drape over his shoulders. “What year?"

He’d been waiting for this question. "23."

"23?"

"Of the Empire, though I'm told the New Republic has been calling it year 4 ABY."

"Empire?" The word slipped like a breath from the Jedi’s lips as his face lost all the colour that remained. "How could the Jedi have allowed an Empire to rise?"

"I don't know," Din replies. "Maybe this Tython will give you answers."

The Jedi’s fingers curled tight about the blanket’s edges as he himself curled in on himself, looking smaller and more vulnerable than he had since the moment he’d woken. "Maybe."

——————————————————————

Any guesses for how old our Jedi friend is?

Chapter 3

#writing #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #the mandolarian #mandalorian fanfic #din darjin #cobb vanth #jedi!cobb vanth

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thestrangestinthisstrangeland · 2 years

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As We Lay Dreaming - chapter 15

warnings: 18+ only (minors DNI) no triggers, just love, non explicit, heavily implied male receiving oral— from a goddess no less.

summary: Dream and Glory/Oshun are eager to confront Desire, but not before a proper detour through the dreamscape that is New York in the 70’s, and one another in this glam version of the waking world. First stop— the Chelsea Hotel.

AO3

masterlist

It is a reckless thing to involve humans in the affairs of the Endless; even immortals fare poorly in their presence. But two against one and the odds shift, typically towards favoring the wronged.

That is how Dream of the Endless and the Goddess Oshun came to find Desire.

After Glory kissed her children goodbye for the weekend and thanked Loretta for taking them in, she left the house behind and took to the skies.

It was her first flight and her first trip to a city she'd never dared to imagine before this.

From the moment she stepped outside the airport to the wild yellow cab ride over and under water, this place was all sights, sounds, and smells that overwhelmed both her true and godly selves.

She watched in awe as skyscrapers grew up from the horizon, peaking over the bridges she'd dreamt of the night before.

Dropped off on Eighth avenue, Glory gawked like a wide-eyed southern daisy at the women pushing strollers through the concrete maze. She smiled at the old men playing chess and how they ignored the chaotic laughter of a few boys throwing a basketball across the busy street.

Until today she'd only known the lazy heat of moss-covered trees, damp bayous, and dirt roads. These rivers of asphalt were sprinkled with grime, and no one seemed to care. It confused her to no end, but she could not stop smiling.

Reality was harsh in this place, but the energy of the people who made it home revealed its true beauty to her before she could make it to the next block.

There was no other place on earth like it, and with a few friendly directions from the locals, she reached the red and white awning of her hotel before she could manage to get lost.

"Hi there." A young man said on his way out. He took a long drag from his cigarette, smoke swirling from his nostrils as he held the door open. If someone asked what a poet in the wild might look like, she would have guessed him, with his tousled brown curls, a black sweater in defiance of the heat, old jeans and canvas shoes.

Glory flashed a reflexive smile-nod, and their eyes met.

He blinked a few times, sort of like she did after her first glimpse of the Empire State Building from the cab. "You're from the south!" He declared.

Glory paused, listening to the warning bells that went off, signaling her to stay away from strangers, especially curious white men in hotels "Yes?"

"Ha! I knew it!" He seemed so damned excited to have gotten it right. "I can tell. You're… not affected. That is to say, you haven't let the city grind you down yet."

"Excuse me?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm sorry. It's not often I see Someone so green but so confident. It's rare— admirable? You're not going to fade away like the rest of us, kid. Plus, you might be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he sighed. "My wife would agree. Don't look too horrified. That's purely observational. I'm a writer. You think that's wild; just wait until you get inside."

"You harassing women again, Tom?"

Glory looked over to find a woman walking up, chic, cool— like the city had been designed around her.

"The wife I was just speaking of." He said with a flourish of the smoking hand.

"Greta." She said, reaching. They shook hands, and the tall blonde woman's cheeks flushed. "My my, you are unique." She said, looking Glory up and down like she couldn't decide if she was afraid or in love "well, you couldn't have picked a better place. Welcome to the Chelsea."

"Let us know if you need anything! Room 401!" Tom said as they turned to rush off.

Glory watched them go and wondered if everyone here would be as wonderfully strange.

Whether or not the people were, she could not say, but it was clear she was far from home.

This place was like a waking dream. She had to blink and shake her head to be sure she hadn't slipped under, what with this wild sometimes bizarre art of every form covering the walls, the female figure swinging from the ceiling and a wave of controlled chaos flooding her senses at every turn...

If Desire's earthly realm was out there, could Dream have made this place his?

Surely he had a few doors that opened directly to his chambers, she thought with a grin as she watched two young creatives arguing in the lobby. Over what, she couldn't say, but they had rocks glasses full of amber liquid and a passion for their project.

Once she’d gotten her key in hand, Glory headed for the elevator and eventually, someone was kind enough to get the damned thing to work.

Her room was small, simple— perfect.She'd never left her hometown and yet the young woman was discerning enough to know that there was somehting about these plain plaster walls that made them better than most.

Glory ran her fingers over the little desk under the window and thought of the stories she told her children every night. If she were to ever write them down and make a book, she could do it here in just a few days.

But not today.

Tossing the suitcase on the bed, she grabbed her little camera and headed back out, determined to see the things that could only be seen in daylight.

Letting herself be carried upstream with the rest of the city fish, she only broke free of the swell to walk through the parks and watch the pigeons and businessmen with briefcases.

When she accidentally found herself standing at the foot of the Brooklyn Bridge, she took a deep breath and kept going. Nothing like this had existed in her waking world until now and it was terrifying in such a fun way.

She stared at those thick cables arranged to hold her and the other tourist so many feet in the air as she walked. Yes, it was engineering and math and science, but there was magic in this city too. It was then that she decided, no matter what happened, she would find her way back to this island one day.

This visit was just a taste— she would have the full bite.

But first things first.

Back at the hotel, musicians and writers drank and smoked with the artists who inspired them. Everyone was interesting and interested in one another.

Glory fit right in, flitting about like a sliver of refracted light free of the wall. She radiated with the energy of Oshun all the way to her little room on the sixth floor.

Dinner was indulgently eaten in bed and finished with a small glass of red wine, where her old silk robe from home kept slipping from her shoulders. She felt like a true bohemian-- whatever that was.

Content but missing him horribly, she pushed plates and tray to the foot of the bed and curled up under the heavy quilt where her head shared a wall with rock stars and soul queens.

Aided by the food and wine, she calmed into sleep and rested easy in spite of the day's excitement. Her soft breathing giving no indication of what went on in her mind, where she formed a dream path for her man to the waking world.

Glory opened a doorway and stood at the edge of darkness carving her thoughts into steps of backlit ivory, calling out to him, "Come! This city is magic!"

Amused, the Shaper walked the halls of her black dreams that beat with the pulse of the island.

He stalked through rooms full of dream folk who reached for him with smiling faces. Their little bellhop hats were cocked to the side. Their taxi cab-scented Wall Street suits ill-fitting, though their offerings of birdseed and directions were heartfelt.

Her dreams moved to a rhythm that pushed him forward, past Broadway's dancing girls with pigeon wings and the kids chasing balloons, straight towards the glowing steps in the dark that led to the waiting door.

The sign above read EXIT, its letters flashing hot pink over and over again.

Morpheus smiled. Her mind was electric tonight.

If she were awake in this, Glory whose name was also Oshun would have made nightmares the likes of which he’d never seen.

Standing on her top stair, Dream tugged the collar of his leather jacket up and raked the thick waves of black hair from his eyes like he’d been born to this time.

Hands to the smoked glass of her gateway, he pushed the doors open and walked into the very real lobby of the Chelsea hotel.

An eruption of reality greeted him and woke her.

In the comfortable quiet of her hotel room, Dream stood back, watching as Glory closed her eyes, tipped her head back just a bit, and let her arms open to the sides.

If he were a mortal man, he might have asked many questions, but he was not, so he just waited and watched, admiring how the old ways worked their magic, and slowly, without leaving completely, Glory quietly stepped aside and let Oshun rise.

He was not one for showing emotion, but it was impossible not to be moved by the sight of her transformation. It was very much like seeing the one he loves curl down into sleep while the one he would have loved since the dawn of her time walk up and out of water, naked as the day Yemaja made her.

Smoothing her hands over her tight curls, she opened her eyes and looked at him, curious for a moment until recognition flushed across her brown cheeks. She smiled at the lord of Dreams, as sweet as raw honey before stumbling back.

"No, no." Oshun held up a hand as she found her footing, "I'm alright."

"What do you feel?" He asked, still ready to spring into action.

She rubbed her head a little, moaning with an ache. "I feel the room spinning. I feel the world spinning." She pressed her fingers to her temples. "I have been sharing my thoughts and my emotions with myself, and I have so many of them," Oshun said with a pained laugh, shrugging it off anyway.

He settled and even allowed himself to raise the corner of his mouth with a smile. Country girl or goddess, she still had the same sense of humor.

"Well Morpheus, where exactly are we going? It's still a little…." She waved her hand in the air, eyes shut tight.

"Into the heart of Desire." He answered, watching her closely.

Oshun opened one eye and then the other. "Here? Among humanity?"

"There is no better place."

She smiled understanding his meaning well, but noted that for one so reserved, poor Morpheus was not so good at hiding his own wants and needs. This was not new. She was still herself, but seeing him through the gaze of Oshun gave her a different perspective.

Glory often thought her naked curves were a distraction. Oshun confidently drew his attention down over her peaks and valleys with a coy laugh taunting him like she found her ability to reduce the Endless to something resembling a man, endearing.

Dream could not care less; he was transfixed.

Stepping close, he grazed the back of his fingers up her belly and between her breast. "We go to my sibling's earthly realm." His voice was light enough to make her shiver. She watched his lips when he spoke, "A place called Studio 54." Pale like the rest of him but as full and soft as they were a small taste of his dominance and virility. Dream stroked up along her neck and tickled her jaw with his thumb drawing her in, "Did they touch you?" He asked.

She looked into the stars. "Desire?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Not even like this?" He asked and just barely brushed her lips with his finger. Oshun closed her eyes and shook her head no. She leaned in, wanting very badly to kiss him, but the deep somewhat condescending laugh that rumbled in his chest— like the sound one makes when catching a petty thief red handed— made her stop.

Oshun pulled back, guessing his game. She clicked her tongue to show her playful distaste, "You're testing me to see if I can resist, but I passed this test already." She told him poking her finger to his chest.

Bested easily by a woman he had no wish to press or upset, Dream bowed his head and looked over his shoulder towards the window. "Do not remind me."

Oshun sighed long and slow.

Men.

Her hand, gentle and warm, cradled his chin, turning his head back around to face her. "Dream Lord," she said his title and name with such affection he could hardly tell that she was scolding him. "The only one who will be reminded is your little sibling.”

"Reminded of what exactly?" He asked, still scowling.

"That the only thing they should do in the presence of royalty, is kneel."

He stared down at her for a few seconds which was all it took for Dream to lose interest in discussing his annoying kin. Even knowing that Desire would love to see him give into these base needs could not keep him focused.

Dream reached to feel the soft warmth of Oshun’s stomach. Smooth and familiar, he liked most how her belly rounded beneath her navel. Softer still was the velvet skin the further his hand went. He liked this most of all."Is that why you are still naked?"

She gasped, melting down onto his hand.

Forcing herself to keep her eyes open, she raised her brow, "It does make it easier." She smiled, biting her lip in reply to his touch and implication, "And, I like you on your knees as much as I like the idea of being your Queen. But, I think it's you who needs to be reminded King of nightmares," she sighed, her own hands gripping his arms under the leather jacket, "and dreams."

"And you wish to remind me?"

"I do." She told him, licking her lips a little.

She didn't need to say more. He just slowly took his hand away, and watched as Oshun turned the tides but paused before going to her knees. "Studio 54? Glory, she— we— looked at this place in a magazine. I wonder, Should I even bother putting anything on?" She teased and laughed, trailing her fingers over his forearms, letting him catch her hands to help her down.

Dream watched the woman goddess move in her deliberate way. Her actions were slow enough to distract him from what would happen once they left this room, but not so much as to torture him.

His human form tensed at her delicate touch as quickly as he relaxed into the feel of her playful smile wrapping tight around him.

Should I even bother to put something on… Dream held in one of many possible responses to what she'd said. The short answer was, who cares. Oshun could cover herself in the black void of space and nothing could hide what the stars had given her.

He let his head drop back just a little as he exhaled her name, his long fingers finding the soft coils of her hair. With his hand on the back of her head, he held her firm but ever-respectful, and she clung to his cool thighs that flexed hard as marble while she hummed sweet, deep approval.

For a little while, he did just that. He stopped caring why he'd climbed the steps and opened the door.

For a little while, when Dream closed his eyes and the neon exit flashed hot pink behind them, it wasn't a score to settle or threats to be made that brought him here. It was her.

He drew a sharp breath and dropped his chin to watch.

He was ancient. Born of mother Night.

Alive since the first being dreamed.

And still this— he smoothed his hand over her curls— The wet heat, the sound, the vulgar intimacy that made him forget he does not like to smile was all it took to calm him.

He heard his own voice moaning pleasure as a call and response, a back and forth between them.

Her gentle encouragement spurred his increasing need to give and take in reply to her quiet answer vibrating to his core. On and on, a cycle that would unfortunately end, but not yet…

Dream stared down at Oshun, the stars neither growing bright nor dim; they simply fixed on their point, unable to deny his true reason for coming to the waking world. Everything he did was for the woman on her knees who called him king. He would drape planets around her neck on silken cords that would shame sapphires. He would place strands of sunlight in the black coils of her hair and crush any who dared to threaten her. They came into his house. Into her room!

How dare they. How Dare they…

Oshun's groan turned to laughter as she pulled away, "Hush. I can hear you thinking. I can… feel you thinking." She said, sitting back on her heels."

Dream looked down—every muscle flexed tight. "No?" He frowned, breathing heavily.

"No” she grinned “But I do not need to be Endless to hear that mind of yours— on and on." She said, rolling her eyes that sparkled with love. "Confronting family? That is for thinking. Enjoying this, "she smiled and shrugged, "that is for a silent, happy mind to make room for pleasure. Now—"she went up onto her knees. "Quiet, and be thankful for me. Today was good. This moment is better. But we do not know what the night will bring"

Mortal, immortal, it makes no difference. When the one you love tells you to shut your mouth so that she can open hers, you'd be a fool not to listen.

Morpheus, the Prince of Stories and King of the Dreaming, did as he was told.

#the sandman 2022 #the sandman comics #dream of the endless/ original female character #the sandman fanfic #sandmancentral #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless/female character of color #oshungoddess #oshun #Oshun fanfic #gods and goddesses #black goddess #black girls have feelings too #soft black girls #desire of the endless #shut up and kiss me

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seidenbros · 2 years

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hiiii I just found your account and I adore your writing!! Could you do something like bauman!reader x eddie, where the elder kids group has to go to Murray for some kind of help (idkkk) and her dad clocks her for having the hots for Eddie and gives her fatherly advice but he gives Eddie the advice like he gave to Jonathan and Nancy? I saw a TT earlier n got inspired to give this request! if not I totally appreciate you looking adn taking time to read this anyway!!! thank you!

Hello and thank you so much, that means a lot 💚 I LOVE this request so much, oh lord. Because I love Murray a lot and the image of him as a protective Dad who watches out for his kid, is just chef's kiss. I think I steered a little bit from this in the way the talks with both of them go, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. For the sake of this fic, let's say that Murray's home is at the edge of Hawkins, alright? Alright.

Requests are open | prompt lists for inspiration | Stranger Things Masterlist

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader Word count: 4856 Warning/Tags: fluff mostly, protective Dad Murray, reader's Mum left them, maybe a bit of mutual pining Author’s note: Got a little inspiration as well from the writing prompt: "friends don't look at each other that way" because it fit sooo well Read on AO3

Go Your Own Way

It was a blessing and a curse to have Murray Bauman as a father. He was a loving Dad, always there for you when you needed him, supporting you in whatever you wanted to achieve. On the other hand, he was way too good at reading you, always knowing immediately when you were telling a lie. That was the investigative journalist in him, but he always meant well. His purpose was to protect you, after all, right? He had to be both parents for you, after your Mum left when you weren’t even eight years old, but he’d done a great job. You knew that you could talk to him about anything, even if you needed a nudge here and there to really speak the words.

In fact, your Dad had been the one to open your eyes in your last relationship. You’d had your doubts about your boyfriend’s feelings, even though he’d sworn that he loved you, but there had been that gut feeling. “Trust your gut,” was what your Dad had always told you and in this case, you’d just been afraid to find out what was going on. It had been a bit intrusive of your father to spy on your then boyfriend, but he’d only meant well, and it had spared you a lot of time in a relationship with someone who didn’t worship the ground you were walking on as Murray had phrased it. Your gut had been right, and your boyfriend had been spending time with someone else, so you’d dumped him right away without a clear explanation, just the words you know why and that was it.

He knew you better than you knew yourself. So, at the end of your school year, after you’d been walking around with a smile on your lips, always doodling in your sketchbook, he sat you down to talk.

“Sweetpea, it’s a good thing that you like someone again, means you’re moving on from that no-good-son-of-a-”

“What are you talking about?” you stopped him before he could finish. While he was right with that description, you were more curious about what he was talking about.

“You know what I’m talking about. That goofy smile on your lips, the way you always carry your sketchbook around to draw, you’ve been day-dreaming.” He counted every piece of evidence on his fingers. “Want me to keep going?”

“No… No need to.” With a defeated sigh you put the sketchbook on the table between you. A curse that he knew you so well and saw right through you.

“Has he asked you out?” Your Dad eyed your sketchbook for a moment, before he focused all his attention back on you.

“We haven’t really seen each other that much since I graduated and he didn’t.”

“He didn’t graduate?”

“No.” There was no judgement in his voice, just curiosity, but you still felt the need to defend Eddie. “He’s not stupid, just has problems concentrating. He’s very creative, reads a lot, but just not the stuff they want us to read at school. But he’s probably able to recite all of The Lord of the Rings without batting an eyelash.” You smiled to yourself, thinking back on the discussion about the trilogy that had nearly gotten you kicked out of the library.

“Alright.” Murray nodded, now reaching for your sketchbook, waiting for your permission to look at it, and you gave it to him with a nod. He was your biggest fan, always had been. “So, who’s this mysterious guy and when will I meet him?”

“Dad! It’s not like we’re dating. We know each other, have studied together a couple of times, but that’s it.”

“But you like him.”

There was no way you could deny this. Even talking about him made your heart beat faster.

“Yeah…” Still, you were a little worried about giving your father the name. He’d find out one way or another, so what was the point in keeping quiet about this. “It’s Eddie… Eddie Munson.”

“Eddie Munson… now that name sounds familiar.” You’d mentioned him before, but back then, you Dad hadn’t thought anything about it, just someone you were studying with. When he opened up your sketchbook and saw all the doodles of Eddie - nothing to worry about, just everyday situations, because you enjoyed looking at him, especially because he looked different from everyone else. “Oh no.” Your Dad looked up at you, suddenly realising just who you were talking about. “Please tell me that’s not the one!” Murray pointed one finger at a picture of Eddie in your sketchbook where he was holding a cigarette. Now, Murray didn’t have a problem with smoking in itself or alcohol - jeez, the first time you’d been drunk had been in his presence - but he’d of course heard about the rumours.

“Do you think I chose to fall for the guy out of my league?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the sketchbook from him again.

“Sorry, sweetpea, but… You know what they say about him, right?” And he wasn’t talking about the devil worshipping stuff everyone had made up, because you knew that your Dad thought that stuff like that, getting to the bottom of it, was rather interesting.

“And you know that most of that is just rumours, because people are condescending, ignorant bitches who don’t want to interact with other people, who are not exactly like them.”

“Language!” You simply raised an eyebrow at him, because he knew damn well, where you’d gotten your potty mouth from, so he pedalled back. “Right… but he’s dealing drugs, and that’s not something I want you to get involved with.”

The worry in his eyes was what got to you. You usually had an easy-going relationship, he was more of a friend to you, but when he had to, he had the role of Dad up to par.

“You know I don’t judge by looks or rumours. Couldn’t care less about them.” At least not when it came down to it, but of course the rumours about Eddie were on his mind, when Murray thought about you and him together.

“Just by people’s actions, I know.” And you Dad was right about the dealing, but he had no idea why Eddie was doing it. You’d gotten a glimpse at that, but you two didn’t know each other well enough to talk about all that kind of stuff. Though he’d told you that he was living with his uncle because his parents hadn’t cared about him, just like your mother hadn’t cared enough about you to stay or even visit you.

“Exactly.” Murray got up and sat down beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “I just don’t want you to get your heart broken again, you know? And he looks like heartbreak on a stick to me.”

You had to chuckle at your father’s words, because you knew what a gentleman Eddie was, that he always put others first, took care of his friends… Traits your father would love about him, but you knew that it wasn’t easy, that he worried about you more than he liked to admit. But ever since you’d been out of school, you hadn’t seen him around much, because you were still trying to figure out what to do, where to go - though you really diN’t want to leave your Dad alone here in Hawkins - while Eddie repeated the year again. You got a job at Family Video along with Steve and Robin, whom you knew through school as well, but apart from that, you still had to figure out where your life was headed.

“And just so you know, he is not out of your league.”

—

A couple of months passed after that conversation, until you found yourself in the current situation, with Eddie in your kitchen right next to you.

When the doorbell rang, you walked straight up to it, bowl of ice-cream in your hand.

“Wait! Let me check who that is first!” Your father yelled from the other room, making sure to take a look at the screens. You’d always thought that it was a little over the top to watch the front door with cameras, but after what had happened here in Hawkins, what your father had let you in on, you could understand the cautiousness, but he’d been like that even before.

“That’s Wheeler!” he yelled again, practically giving you the go to open the door.

Nancy had been here a few times now, so it wasn’t unusual that she showed up, though she’d always called ahead before. When you opened the door, spoon hanging from your lips, ready to ask Nancy to come inside, you were caught off-guard by four people standing there - and you knew all of them.

Taking the spoon out of your mouth and putting it back in the bowl, you scanned their faces, but your heart practically jumped when you saw Eddie among them. You’d seen each other casually on the street, at Family Video, had even chatted now and then, but this… this was something else. Sure, you’d tried to forget about him, but your heart clearly hadn’t done that.

“Y/N?” Eddie asked, visibly surprised to see you here. The others had told them that they needed Murray’s help. If they’d mentioned his last name, Eddie would have known that this was your house, because Bauman wasn’t exactly a name you came across very often.

“Um… Hi!” You were visibly confused to see Steve and Robin there as well, who were giving you a little wave to say hello.

“Hi! Is Murray here? We really need to talk to him.” Nancy smiled at you, but you could see that she was tensing up. There was something going on, otherwise she wouldn’t show up here with the other three.

“Yeah, come on in.” You opened the door wide for them to enter and lead the way to the living room. “DAD! You have visitors!”

“Murray is your Dad?” Steve asked curiously, looking around a little.

“Does it take you that long to connect the dots?” Robin shook her head at him, grinning to herself. Of course, she’d figured that out a long time ago.

“Yeah, I take more after my… mother.” Which was good for you, but it also hurt sometimes when you looked in the mirror.

“Kids!” Murray greeted them as he entered the living room, his smile faltering a little, when his eyes landed on Eddie. He’d met the others but Eddie was a new edition, and you hadn’t known that as well.

“Murray! Good, we really need your help.” Nancy quickly got his attention and guided the others to sit down with her as well. She got out her notebook and whatever else she’d brought. It was really none of your business so you left them alone and walked into the open kitchen to give them some privacy. You didn’t want to spy on them after all, but you also didn’t want to withdraw yourself completely. This was still your home, and you’d been drawing on the kitchen table, just taking a little break for some ice-cream. Your supplies were spread out on the table, and you were glad that you’d only drawn the outlines of your newest piece after Eddie had preoccupied your dreams last night, so you had to get that down on paper, because no other than the man himself walked up to you.

“Hey you,” he said with a smile, leaning against the counter right next to you. “Haven’t seen you around in a bit.”

“What? You miss me?”

“What if I do?”

His words caught you off guard, and you nearly choked on your ice-cream. Was he being serious? You had no chance to ask, though, when he pushed away from the counter again to take a look at your drawings.

“What’cha drawing?” His fingertips touched the paper, pushed it aside to reveal the finished one beneath it, and what he saw really made his eyes widen. Shit. You’d forgotten about the one you’d done before, of him from behind, the vest a clear indicator of who that was.

“Just what I dreamed about last night.” You put your bowl aside and stepped up to him, quickly taking the finished picture out of his hands, trying to hide it, but it was no use since he’d already seen it.

“You dreaming about me?” Eddie quirked an eyebrow at you, reaching for your hands to get that picture back, but you held it behind your back. “Aw come on, that picture is really good! Can I keep it?”

He wanted what? You’d expected a different kind of reaction, but this was… rather sweet.

“You really want this?” Was he mocking you? You had to make sure, because there was this little voice in your head that told you that he wasn’t being serious.

“Yes! Never seen a better picture of myself if I’m being honest. That’s really flattering, y/n.” When you held your hand out to him, Eddie took the picture from you and smiled. A genuine, warm smile that made your stomach flip, made you bite your lip to keep yourself from smiling like an idiot.

“And I did miss you,” Eddie clarified, brushing his fingers over yours, but you slowly pulled back. The air was thick between you, and you felt like you couldn’t really breathe with him so close, so you leaned back against the counter, catching your father’s eyes across the rooms, because he kept watching you. Nancy had to pull his attention back to what she was showing him multiple times.

“I missed you, too,” you admitted, even though you knew that this wasn’t a good idea. Still, you had to admire the courage he had in sharing this information pretty much right in front of your father.

“Why are you here?” you asked, trying to divert the attention to something else, looked over to where the other three were sitting, now deep in conversation with your Dad.

“We… found something and we need your Dad’s Russian knowledge.” Eddie looked over at the others for a moment as well, before he focused his attention back on you. Seeing you here had taken him off guard as well. He’d asked Steve and Robin when you were working so that he could come by Family Video then, get a chance to talk to you, but lately, his timing had been off. Everything would have been easier if he’d just managed to ask you out, but every single time, he’d worked up the courage, something had happened. You’d had to leave, the telephone had rung, like someone, something didn’t want him to spend time with you.

“Heard a lot of awesome things about your Dad.” That he was a bit crazy as well, but that was coming from people, who’d fought God knows what. Crazy might actually be good then.

“Yeah, he’s wonderful.” You smiled at Eddie. “A little eccentric as people like to call him, but I couldn’t wish for a better Dad.”

“You two close then?”

“Very. It sounds like a cliche, but he’s my best friend.” That was why you valued his opinion so much, and you thought about the conversation you’d had about Eddie.

“That sounds great.” Eddie really thought so, and he loved the way you talked about your Dad. He talked about Wayne the same way, the one person who’d been like a father to him. His real parents weren’t part of his life anymore.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you, y/n.” It was serious when he used your name instead of calling you princess or darling. “Actually been trying to ask you ever since you graduated… probably longer.” Eddie was nervous, you could see it in the way he twirled one of his rings, the way his foot tapped the linoleum beneath you. His hand reached out to touch you, his fingertips touching yours while your hands dangled next to each other. You didn’t pull back when he wrapped his fingers around yours, because it felt way too good, electricity running all the way up your arm. “I was wondering… if you might wanna go out with me? There’s an art exhibition in Indianapolis next week, and I thought you might want to check that out. Preferably with me.”

The smile he gave you nearly made your knees weak. Eddie was more into music than into art, but he knew that you were. Once you’d spent half an hour telling him how much you loved van Gogh’s work, and he’d kept that in mind. And while you really wanted to go, scream yes at the top of your lungs, you had to turn him down.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t really have time and all that…” A stupid excuse, but you couldn’t tell him that you didn’t want to go, because that would be a lie. It was because of the talk you’d had with your Dad before.

“Eddie?” Nancy poked her head through the open door, and you could see the concerned look on your Dad’s face straight away, so you took a step towards the table to gather your stuff. It was probably better when you retreated to your room.

“Sorry to interrupt!”

“It’s okay, we were done talking anyway,” you said with a smile and brushed past them to get to your room. Nancy’s eyes followed you, but then she levelled a look at Eddie, who immediately held up his hands.

“I asked her out, Nance, and she said it’s not a good idea. Guess I’ll just give up.” Eddie tried to smile, but failed. He’d liked you ever since you’d started studying together, but back then, he hadn’t had the courage to ask you out. After school, he’d thought that you’d go off to college, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to ask you out, he’d just never been able to get the words out. He’d talked to Nancy about this, so today was the opportunity. And now he stood here defeated.

“I know for a fact that she likes you, so I don’t understand why she would turn you down.” Yes, you’d confided in her, had also told her about the talk you’d had with your father, so Nancy figured that that must have been the reason.

“Just… leave it at that, Nancy. It’s alright.” A crushed ego, yes, but he didn’t want to think about that anymore right now. After all, they had come here for something completely different, and so he gently pushed Nancy in the direction of the table in the living room where they could tell Eddie what they’d come up with, not that he was able to pay that much attention, but he tried his best.

They sat there for another half hour approximately until they were finished.

“Thanks Murray, that really helped,” Robin said with a grin. She would have needed days for the translation, and that wouldn’t have solved everything, so Murray’s help had been much appreciated.

“No problem, kids.” He’d grown quite fond of them if he was honest, though he didn’t always know how to show it. “And now to you.” His eyes landed on Eddie.

“What about me?” Oh, he had a really good idea what he wanted to talk or ask about, and while everything in him wanted to run away, get out of the window and walk all the home if he had to, he stayed.

“You and my daughter.” Murray leaned forward a little, not really intimidating, more curious. The other three sat there quietly, knowing that this wasn’t their conversation. Nancy had been in that same position before, and she knew that Murray was able to read people so well, just like he#d done with Jonathan and here - and that had been the gentle nudge they’d needed to admit their feelings.

“There’s nothing going on.” Eddie had to make that clear, and it was the truth. “We’re just… friends I guess.” Yes, he’d asked you out, but he’d always liked you as a person, and was hoping that this wouldn’t stand between you now, that you’d still be able to treat each other normally, now that he knew that you weren’t feeling the same way.

“Friends don’t look at each other that way.” Murray couldn’t help but smile. Yes, he’d talked to you about Eddie but that was before he’d seen the two of you interact. Of course, he’d paid attention, and the way Eddie had made you smile, the very gentle touch of his hands, the way he’d looked at you all the time… Murray knew that look. Nancy had told him before that Eddie was a good guy, just different, with different interests, which wasn’t a bad thing. He’d needed to see that for himself. The way Eddie had looked at you, acted around you, had told him everything he’d needed to know.

“It’s the same way Nancy and Jonathan looked at each other.” Murray grinned to himself, proud of bringing these two together, because he definitely took credit for that.

“Leave me out of this!” Nancy nudged him, but kept her eyes on Eddie, who’s cheeks had definitely taken on a different colour by now. She’d told him that before, so she really didn’t know why you’d turned him down.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing going on.” Eddie really wished he could just get out of this situation, especially with the other three around. So far, he’d told Nancy, but neither Robin nor Steve had known up until now. They’d guessed that much, though, but had never said a word.

“But you want to go out with y/n.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement, because Murray might not have heard what the two of you had been talking about, he’d seen the way you’d acted.

“Well…” This was your Dad he was talking to, which made the situation so awkward, that Eddie felt at a loss for words.

“Yes he does.” Nancy answered for him, sick of this back and forth that wouldn’t lead anywhere. “And you want to know why she said no to him…?”

Now it was Murray’s turn to open and close his mouth again, because he hadn’t expected that from Nancy, but he also knew what she was talking about.

“What do you mean?” Eddie looked between Nancy and Murray, trying to follow. Meanwhile Steve and Robin were both wishing for a bucket of Popcorn to enjoy this show even more. It was always nice when you weren’t in the middle of everything that was going on for once.

“Look,” Murray started, then thought for a moment. He didn’t have to tell him everything, did he? Well… “When y/n admitted that she liked you, I might have told her to stay away. Which wasn’t against you in general just… a father looking out for his daughter.”

Oh Eddie knew about his reputation, about all the things that were being said about him.

“If you really think, I worship the devil, then you’re-”

“Nope, not at all. And even if you did… that would actually be kind of interesting.” Murray’s words made Eddie chuckle. Now, that wasn’t the kind of reaction he’d expected at all. “She got her heart broken before, and she doesn’t do well with abandonment.” Your mother, Eddie knew about that. “Actually something you two have in common.”

“Shared trauma,” Nancy provided, using the same words Murray had used for her and Jonathan, and he’d been right.

“Exactly.” Murray grinned to himself before he looked back at Eddie. “I might have fucked that one up for you.” But still… “Didn’t think you’d give up that easily, though.”

“Who says I am?” Eddie felt a surge of confidence, now that he knew that you hadn’t turned him down because you didn’t like him, but because of something else. So he got up from the couch and walked around the couch.

“Last room on the left,” Murray called after him, a grin spreading on his lips.

“You really have a… special way with people.” Nancy shook her head, but tried to hide her smile behind the glass of water.

“Can’t blame me for looking out for my daughter.”

No, she really couldn’t, but she was glad that he’d finally seen what kind of person Eddie was, that his interest in you was genuine, and that he deserved a chance.

Eddie took a deep breath before he knocked on your door. After he heard your come in, he slipped through the door, closing it behind him again, so that the others and your father wouldn’t come snooping around, because they liked to do that - all four of them.

“Eddie!” Your surprise was visible as you scrambled from lying on your stomach into a sitting position on top of your bed. Photos and pictures you’d painted covered your walls. There was a corner where you stashed your art supplies, and another one with a dressing table, clothes discarded on top of a chair, including some underwear. God, this was mortifying, but Eddie didn’t seem to notice.

“So…” he started, leaning back against the door, letting his eyes roam just for a second before he focused on you again. “I had a little talk with your Dad. Or rather he did a lot of talking.”

“Oh God… Yeah, he tends to do that.” You scooted to the edge of the bed, letting your legs dangle off of it. You could feel your heart beat so hard in your chest, so loud that you were sure he was able to hear it. “But he usually means well.”

“He did.” The corners of his lips curled up, because as uncomfortable as he’d first felt in that situation, the outcome had led him here into your room - with Murray’s blessing. “He said that he noticed the way we look at each other and that friends don’t look at each other like that.”

Your father had what? Was that the same person that had told you to stay away from Eddie?

“So is he right?” Eddie took a step closer to your bed, and another one, until he was standing right in front of you. “Because he’s certainly right about me.” Why should he deny that when he’d already asked you out? That had definitely been a clear indicator that he liked you.

For a few seconds, you were quiet, looking straight through him, but then you got up to look him in the eyes.

“Yeah he’s right. He is so good at reading people it’s sometimes scary.” You were used to it, but when he did that with people he hardly knew, it was really something else.

“Definitely,” Eddie had to agree, gaining more of his confidence back the more you talked, and so he reached for your hand just like he’d done in the kitchen before. Calloused fingers wrapped around your own, and you squeezed his hand in return. “So you turned me down because…”

“I think you already know.” You sighed and felt stupid, but your Dad’s opinion was important to you, and you didn’t want to disappoint him. You’d never be able to do that because he loved you to bits, but you still worried now and then.

“What if I ask again?” He brought your hand up to his lips, brushed his lips over your knuckles keeping eye-contact with you. “Would you like to go to that art exhibition with me?”

“But you’re not interested in that.” You cocked your head to the side, feeling the goosbumps run up your arm.

“But I’m interested in you, and I want to learn about the things you like.”

It was probably one of the most romantic things anyone had ever told you, so you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I’d love to go.”

“Great!” His excitement lit up his whole face, which you loved to see. “Sunday?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up around noon.”

You talked a moment longer, before Eddie had to leave. The others were already waiting for him, but he kissed the back of your hand before he left your room, leaving you with a big smile on your lips.

It didn’t take long for your Dad to knock on the open door and poke his head in.

“Hey kiddo… We good?”

You could see the worry in his eyes, because he’d made this much harder for Eddie and you than it could have been, but in the end, you’d finally talked about this, and you’d have your first date with him as well.

“Yeah…” Your smile stayed in place as you walked over to your father to hug him tight. “You’re an idiot, but I still love you.”

“Yeah I am.” Still he smiled, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He was happy for you, glad to see you smiling like this after quite some time, but he’d still let Eddie’s body vanish into thin air, if he ever broke your heart.

Let me know if you want to be tagged for the Promises-series, Eddie stuff in general or Steddie-fics 💚

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #staffi writes

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