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pandoraslxna · 10 months

Note

Neteyam drabble idea:

Neteyam has been stressed and goes to spend the afternoon unwinding with his human mate in the outpost, trying to relax. Reader notices this and ask if he wants to try something that'll let him get out all for frustration without hurting her. She offers to try a tit job.

Unwinding together

adult Neteyam x female human reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: Neteyam seems quite tense lately, and like the good friend that you are, you offer him a way to relief all of his stress.

Warnings: explicit smut, kinda friends with benefits, tit job, oral, size difference, Neteyam whimpers <3

Notes: I swear this started as a drabble at first but I just couldn’t help myself. (Also the reason why the plot is kinda messy haha) 😅

Na’vi translation:

Tanhì - little star

skxawng - moron

Neteyam had been feeling especially tense over the past few days.

As his father, the olo’eyktan, was away for a couple of days to form an alliance between the omatikaya and tipani clan, most of Jake’s daily duties were left in Neteyams hands.

With most of his day gone, he had little to no time for himself now. He didn't even have time to hunt down and prepare his own meals or spend time with his siblings, let alone visit his favorite little human at hells gate as much as he actually wanted to.

Usually, it was easy for him to be on his own. He wasn’t exactly introverted, but he enjoyed his space. Neteyam trained alone, he hunted alone, and while his siblings were busy going on their little adventures together, Neteyam was either tasked to babysit them, stuck in war meetings or had other duties that kept him from socializing. But after he had meet you, he had grown accustomed to being pampered with your constant touch, your bubbly conversations, and endless affection. So much so, that he considered you his best friend. Probably even his only friend. And those feelings were definitely mutual.

You really had missed your big, blue mighty warrior. You had missed talking to him, missed having your dearest friend close, spending hours in each others company, even if it was just to nap or share lunch together during his busy schedule.

Which is why you were even happier that Neteyam had finally managed to come over for a short visit after another tiresome day, filled with war meetings and consultations that usually didn’t leave much room for you.

As excited as you were for him to visit you, to hear what was going on in his life, to tell him about your day– right now, however, you were silent. You were just watching him, laying on your entirely too small bed, his long limbs lazily hanging off the edge as he stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. There was a visible tension in his shoulders, even now when he was normally able to relax in the comfort of your presence, his mind was still at the village. You couldn’t say it out loud, but seeing him like this worried you.

"Teyam...", you sigh, calling him softly. His ears twitch at the sound of his nickname coming from the pretties set of lips he’s ever laid his eyes on, and immediately, he looks over at you. "Are you okay?", you ask carefully, "You seem pretty stressed lately."

"Hm, well yes", Neteyam chuckles. It wasn’t particularly funny, but amusing that there was no way to deny the obvious. Of course he was stressed. "I am, but that’s nothing you should worry about, tanhì. I’ve trained for this my whole life. Nothing I can’t handle."

At this, you huff and roll your eyes. He’s never been a good liar. Not even, when he was lying to himself. "Yeah, I know that. But I also know how hard the pressure on the next olo’eyktan can be. Theres a lot of responsibilities on your shoulders, and you carry it all alone. It's only a matter of time before you crack like an egg."

Neteyam eyes you for a moment, but then a teasing grin forms on his lips. "Are you calling me an egg?"

You shake your head with a giggle, "No, but you’re a skxawng!"

That makes him laugh now.

"All I'm saying is, that maybe…", there’s a pause and your tone turns more serious, while a blush creeps up your features, "you need to relief that stress. There’s plenty of ways to do it. And I know you love your bow more than anything, but maybe you should try something that isn't hunting? Hunting is too complicated, too complex. You need something where you can completely shut your brain off for a while, you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, maybe", Neteyam agrees with a nod, turning back to stare at the ceiling in thought. Then he shrugs, "But I don't know what else to do. Hunting has always helped me released all my inner fustrations. Reading tracks relaxes me. But I do enjoy flying too. Maybe—"

"I could help you relief some of that stress", you cut in, not even giving him the chance to suggest anything else. Neteyam snaps his head back at you with both of his brows raised high. Now, that piqued his interest. As tempting as that may sound, it couldn’t possibly be what you were suggesting, he thought. There was no way…

"Excuse me?", he shot back with a laugh.

"You know, like, uhm, a… a tit job maybe? If you want. Humans do that sometimes, so I thought, I don’t know..."

Your face was as red as a beet as you stammered an explanation, and to add further to your embarrassment, Neteyam suddenly bursts out laughing, "A what? Do your people really find that relaxing?"

You shrug, your eyes looking everywhere but him, "I… y-yes, some people do!"

In an instant, he stops laughing when he realizes that you weren’t joking. His mouth was dry but he swallowed anyway, blinking rapidly as he tried to proceed what you were saying.

Oh. So that was really what you were suggesting. For a moment, Neteyam was at a loss of words, struggling to think of a way to respond to this.

As he eyed you up and down, the blush on your cheeks turned into a deeper shade of red. It was adorable, seeing the way you suddenly grew insecure under his gaze. All that, after boldly suggesting something so filthy to a friend. And if the thought of you, going down on your knees and pleasuring him with your breasts didn’t had his mind spiraling, he would’ve loved to draw this moment out a little while longer, just to tease you further.

But if his little human friend wanted to help him relax, who was he to deny your offer? That’s what friends are there for after all. Right?

And that’s how Neteyam found himself sitting on your bed, his back resting against the cool wall, with your much smaller frame sitting on your knees right between his spread thighs, stripped of your top and bra.

Neteyam was hard as a rock the second his eyes fell on your pretty tits, so it wasn’t much of a surprise that, when he lifted his hips for you to help him out of his loincloth, his erection slapped against his lower abdomen with a soft thud. He couldn’t help but chuckle at your startled expression.

He was beautiful, a mouth watering sight. The blue on his shaft matched his skin color perfectly, but the soft tip was almost a tad purple. Surprisingly, there were no stripes to be found, but faint freckles littered from base to tip. However, it was his size that made you swallow thickly. The proportion definitely matched the rest of him, no doubt confirming your suspicion, that a tit job was probably the only way you could help him relax without putting yourself at risk.

Your hands, gentle but firm, run over his thighs, massaging his muscles to ease his nerves, or maybe even your own, while your eyes were entirely fixed on his cock.

"You know, I wanted to suggest a quickie at first", you murmur under your breath, as if talking to yourself. One of your hands then reaches for him, giving him an experimental stroke. Neteyam‘s breath stuttered, seeing that your hand was too small to close entirely around his girth. He watched, enraptured with the way your small hand held his cock, pinky lifted daintily and thumb arching to rub and swipe at the mushroom-like head, swirling around the glands. His dick felt heavy in your hand, the tip dark, highlighting the veins you took special care to pass over.

Neteyam melted into your hold, his hips hitching up, wanting to hump into your wonderful hand, but he held back.

"But then I went over the logistics and... Now I’m definitely sure there’s no way that will ever fit inside me", you giggle lightheartedly.

"Oh, I would make it fit, tanhì", Neteyam responded with a low chuckle, half lidded eyes staring down at you with such intensity, that it made you squirm, shifting your weight from one thigh to another. "But that’s something for next time. For now, I’m just curious to see how you humans help each other relax."

Next time. His promising words echoed in your mind, send a shudder to run down your spine.

You were hesitant at first, for a moment uncertain if you really wanted to bring something into this friendship that the both of you tried to suppress since the first time you met. Hesitant to be the first to break this tension that had been lingering in the air ever since you became close friends. You‘ve never done such things with each other before, never done more than give a quick peck to the other’s cheek, hugging and holding each other close when one needed it. But this, this was new and foreign and it almost felt forbidden.

Like sensing your thoughts, Neteyam’s hand comes to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, before he whispers, "You don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to."

"No. No, I suggested it after all. A-And I want to", you inhale, then exhale deeply, looking up at his eyes and then down at his cock again, "God, I really fucking want to."

A mischievous grin formed on his lips, as Neteyam watched you closely. Your tongue then darts out and you let a good amount of spit drip down right onto the tip of his cock, knowing he‘ll enjoy it more when it’s all wet and slick. Shuffling closer, you place your hands on either side of your chest, pushing your breasts together and trapping his cock right in between them. With a grunt of approval coming from Neteyam, you begin to move them, up and down on his length.

Your spit smears between your breasts, covering his shaft just right as you stroke him.

Neteyam could barely get a word out even though his mouth was now hanging open. Breathy sounds seemed to be all he was capable of in this moment. His long, braided hair started to stick to his temple, while a deep fluttering sensation coursed through his lower half and between his legs, his toes curling in his soles. It felt amazing.

All he was capable of, was watching you, hypnotized by the way your tits bounced and Neteyam felt like he was in heaven, on cloud nine, like he'd reached the Na’vi equivalent to nirvana.

Heat radiated from the base of his spine and traveled straight to his groin, and it didn’t take long for his hips to buck up against your chest, fucking right in between the space where your tits were pressed together, enveloping his cock in your warmth.

Between the wetness of your skin and the softness of your breasts, Neteyam knew he was done for as he began to plunge in and out the cleft, the very tip of him showing with each thrust he gave.

For a moment, you could’ve sworn you felt his cock throb, felt him twitch vividly, which only spurred on the pace you set.

The Na‘vi above you was breathing deeply now, with his head leaned back against the wall. His eyes were closed, though fluttered open in surprise when he felt your warm, wet tongue against his tip. A whimper escaped him as you teased the slit with your tongue and lapped up the pre-cum that beaded there.

"I didn’t know you were so sensitive", you giggled softly, followed by a long lick from base to tip between your strokes that made him moan.

Gathering spit and pre-cum on the up tug, you then slathered it back down his twitching length, enjoying the wet, squelching sounds it produced and the effect it had on him.

"I‘m not. Fuck", Neteyam cursed under his breath, "I‘m just trying to hold back and not flip you over and fuck you into the mattress right now…"

With a coy smile, you continued to lick lightly at the head of his cock, while moving your heavenly, soft, warm breasts over it, letting him fuck between your cleavage. And slowly, Neteyam was actually fucking them. He couldn't stop his hips from moving even if he wanted to.

Neteyam chased his orgasm like a predator chasing it’s prey. He couldn't think. All he could process were the different sensations on his aching, twitching cock.

"So good", he groaned from above, "oh fuck, that’s it. You really got some pretty tits, tanhì."

Neteyam wanted to do something, he really wanted to. He was more of a pleaser than just the type of guy to sit back and let his partner do all the work, but right now, he didn't have nearly the brain capacity to act on his own.

"Wanna touch them?", you smiled up at him. "C‘mon, Teyam. Use me. Get yourself off."

His hands moved before he could think too much about it, his palm replacing yours and cupping your left tit, happy to hold the tender flesh. He didn't even squeeze, he just bit the inside of his cheek and watched the way your breast curved when he held it like this or that, the way your nipple began to harden against his thumb as he teased it with a lingering touch. His second hand joined the other on your chest, fingers fanning out to hold both of them. They were so warm and absolutely perfect in his eyes, and his heart raced at the sight of his cock squished between them, when he pressed them further together.

Soon enough, his thrusts turned even faster and more desperate, with moans falling from his lips like rain from the sky.

The head of his cock came to kiss your spit slicked lips, so you let your mouth hang open, tongue lolling out for his length to glide along the wet muscle whenever he thrusted up.

Neteyam’s hands squeezed your tits just a little tighter, his breath turned more into a rapid panting, before he finally whimpers, "Can I cum on them? P-Please, i‘m close!"

He wanted to be embarrassed by the noises that were coming out of him, but he was just so close that he couldn’t think of anything else, that he couldn’t care. His hips bucked up, harder, faster, and you had to hold onto his wrists to stabilize yourself.

"Go ahead, cum for me. Cum on me", you encouraged him in such a soft and caring tone, it made his eyes roll back into his head. "Make a mess, Teyam. You deserve it."

And that‘s it. Neteyam finally felt free to let go of his worries, his mind going completely blank as he simply did what felt good.

He tries to keep watching, overwhelmed by the way it looks when the head of his cock peaks out from between your tits, only to press against the flat of your tongue. But when he feels the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, approach, his eyes instinctively want to shut. But he doesn’t want to. He wants to see you.

"FuckFuckFuckFuck", he moans, high pitched and whiny, the words all morphed together as he chases his orgasm. You can’t help but moan yourself, the sheer strength and the rapid pace of his thrusts enough to turn your breasts sensitive. It doesn’t help when his thumb purposefully brushes over your nipples, his palms squeezing the flesh in his hands and kneading them roughly.

You’re just so hot like this. So perfect. Beautiful. He can’t help it. It takes you aback when he suddenly gets up from the bed to stand in front of you. One of his hands leaves your chest and instead tightens in a fist full of your hair, basking in the little moan it earns him. His other hand leaves your breast as well, in favor of closing itself around his cock and beginning to jerk himself off, in a way that was no match to the rhythm he had fucked your tits before. It made you realize just how much he had actually held himself back earlier.

"Coming– hngh, fuck! I‘m coming, I‘m coming!"

At the last second, you snap back from your thoughts just in time to open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out. Drool runs down your chin as you watch him furiously stroke his cock right in front of your face, the tip resting against your tongue as he does so. His chest heaves, there’s sweat rolling down his flexed abs.

And then you feel Neteyam‘s cock pulse, you feel his hips stutter, his legs wobble and he moans, low and deep, like thunder, before thick spurts of cum, rope after rope land right there on your face. Your tongue, your chin and especially your chest are all painted in white streaks now.

Finally, his lungs fill themselves with air again as he plops back down onto your bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. Slumping back, he inhales deeply, panting for air with a hand clasping on his chest.

Neteyam looked absolutely spent, the tension in his shoulders seemingly gone, reduces to zero. And he felt that way too, like you had turned him into a puddle of goo.

"Better?", you ask with a giggle, a self satisfied smirk adorning your flushed face.

"Eywa, woman", Neteyam chuckles breathlessly, "I can’t even feel my legs anymore!"

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sister-lucifer · 4 months

Text

Spring & a Storm

Tim Wright/Masky x Gender Neutral Reader

READ PART TWO HERE

Genre: Fluff, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and you and Tim are stuck inside the cabin together. You can’t sleep because of the thunder, and decide to see if Tim can help you out.

Content/Warnings: None really. Brief mentions of alcohol, uh…if you can think of anything else let me know! This is pretty damn soft, but actually not explicitly romantic.

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You don’t really notice the sound of the rain against the windows anymore. It’s been raining nonstop since, what, 7 AM this morning? Its not quite storming, at least not yet, but everything is soaked, and you can hardly even walk out onto the patio without your shoes filling with water. It’s dreary, sure, but not exactly unpleasant. It’s a good day to stay in, that’s all.

You shift your sitting position a bit, wrapping one of the woven blankets from

the back of the couch around your shoulders as you gaze out the window. You’re not really expecting to see anything, it’s just trees and trees for miles around, but you always seem to find yourself gazing out into the endless pines. You only turn away when you hear Tim sit down in the recliner, sighing lazily as he puts his feet up. This is a sight you’ve seen many times: A few strands of hair falling between his eyes, an old flannel half unbuttoned over a stained white tank, a beer can in one hand and a nearly finished cigarette in the other. It’s practically Tim’s natural state.

He takes one last drag from his cigarette before snuffing it out in the ash tray he keeps on the end table, chasing the smoke with a sip of his beer before that, too, is set aside. He glances out the window, whistling softly.

“Ain’t nobody goin’ out in that weather,” He drawls, “Nobody with half a mind, anyhow.”

You nod in agreement, taking a little sip of your hot cocoa. It’s a wonderful way to keep warm in this homely old cabin.

You glance over at Tim, who is now absentmindedly flipping through TV channels. He’s probably looking for sports or Storage Wars or something, you think. Some old man show you’ll never find interest in.

As you look at him a bit longer, just spacing out a bit with your eyes on his face, your mind meanders back to before you two were this comfortable with each other. It feels weird to think about that now, though. You couldn’t imagine being in that place again.

Tim’s told you before that you reminded him of himself when he was a younger, when he was ‘new and green’ as he’d say. You were a wide eyed, scared kid, just like he was. You deserved to be living in a dorm somewhere, getting shitfaced at college parties and making choices you’ll regret the next morning but laugh at for years, not to be forced to cope with this reality. No one deserves it, really, to wake up in an unfamiliar place surrounded only by endless woods, no one and nothing around to help you and your body aching all over with injuries you don’t recall getting.

He knows that feeling.

He’s never felt worse. Neither have you. It’s hard to get worse than that, really.

You were still a bit dazed when he first helped you back to his cabin, but something about the worn walls and cozy, lived-in feeling of the old rugs and antique furniture told you you were safe, at least for now. You were out the second your head hit the pillow. You slept for nearly two days straight. You really needed it.

Since then you’ve been a permanent fixture in Tim’s life. You don’t really leave the cabin, and you’ve never left alone. Tim says it’s just until you can find a job and a place of your own, but he doesn’t seem to be in any rush to kick you out. You’re thankful for that, of course, but you can’t help but smile every time he insists that this is only a temporary situation, that if you don’t get off your ass he’ll quite literally throw you to the wolves, but he always smiles too. You’re definitely on the same page, and the headline says you’re not going anywhere.

The rainy day melts into a rainy afternoon, then an evening, then a quiet night. The rain has slowed down a bit, but now the thunder has rolled in, and every ten or fifteen seconds or so you can hear it clapping loudly overhead. The sound is a bit more…penetrating than usual, a bit more raucous, and far more bothersome. You’re not sure why. The only thing you are sure of is that your once comforting outdoor ambience is really ticking you off.

You sit up with a yawn, glancing at the clock and groaning with annoyance when you see it’s already passed 2:00 AM. Damn, you’ve been lying here a while, and still no luck getting to sleep.

The thunder crashes outside once more, making you roll your eyes. It’s mocking you, you think, poking and prodding in an attempt to get a reaction. You simply sit there for a few moments, debating turning your TV on or reading a book to tire yourself a bit more, but neither of those are particularly attractive options at the moment. You bring your knees up and rest your head on them, half lidded eyes lazily wandering around your dark room. It looks the same as usual, no surprise there, but when you look down the hallway you notice that Tim’s door is cracked open.

Hm. Odd. He never leaves it open. Must’ve stumbled off to bed and failed to realize he didn’t close it all the way.

It’s not a big deal at all, really, but the light of his TV leaking out through the cracked door paired with the noise of the thunder gives you an idea.

You slowly slip out of bed, cringing a bit when your feet hit the cold wood. You’re as quiet as you can be, avoiding all the floorboards you know will squeak. There’s really no point, Tim sleeps like a rock most nights, especially if he’s been drinking, but you figure you’re better off safe than sorry.

You make your way to his door, pushing it open just a bit to peek inside. You wince when the door creaks unbearably loudly, but Tim doesn’t move a muscle. He’s sprawled out like a starfish on his bed, limbs in all directions and his single blanket only half covering his body. He looks foolish, but in a charming sort of way. He’s even snoring a bit.

You cautiously make your way to his bedside, watching him for any sign of consciousness. You don’t want to startle him. Even if he didn’t mean to, he could really hurt you if he thought you were a threat, though at the moment he’s not very intimidating. His sweatpants are ratty, there’s no hiding his dad bod in that old sports tee, and his face is illuminated by the cheesy sitcom he left on; not exactly the pinnacle of danger.

You step up to his bed, debating what to do. You should wake him gently, it reduces the risk of injury, but how do you gently wake someone who could sleep through an aerial assault?

“…Pssst, Tim?” You whisper, but get no response. You repeat yourself, a bit louder this time.

“Tim, wake up.”

He stirs a bit, but all you get is a groan and a minute twitch of his eye. Dammit.

You sigh and roll your eyes with annoyance, reaching out to softly shake his shoulder.

“Tim, it’s me. Wake up.”

He lazily swats your hand away, groaning again and mumbling a reply without even opening his eyes.

“Whaddya want, kid…?” He asks, practically chewing his words.

“I can’t sleep,” You respond simply, giving a little shrug. Tim is not amused at this answer.

“And why does this have to involve me?” He huffs, glancing at you for a moment before his eyes close again. He turns onto his side towards you, yawning as he tries to pull his blanket back up.

You don’t really have an answer to that one. Why did you feel the need to come in here and wake Tim up? It’s not like he controls the thunder. It’s not like he controls your inability to sleep…

…But maybe he can help.

“I can’t sleep,” You explain, trying to figure out how to word your request without sounding stupid, “The thunder is too loud. I thought maybe I could…you know…”

Tim’s eyes finally open, for real. He raises a brow at you, and for a moment you fear you’ve overstepped, but his expression shifts to tired once more as he turns onto his back again.

“Kid,” He mutters, clearly annoyed but trying to be gentle, “If you’re old enough to share a beer with me, you are definitely too damn old to be running into my bed ‘cause you’re scared of a li’l thunder.”

“I’m not scared,” You quickly protest, “It’s just too loud for me to sleep. I didn’t know what else to do, I just thought…”

You trail off. You’re not really sure what you thought.

“…Never mind.”

You turn to walk away, hoping he’ll be too tired to remember this in the morning. You’re in the doorway when his gruff voice stops you.

“Wait, wait,” He drawls, sleepily waving you over without moving from where he’s lying, “Get back here, I ain’t chasin’ ya off…”

You pause at that, then slowly walk back to his bed. He’s silent, and for a few moments unmoving, but then he scoots over a bit, patting the bed next to him.

“C’mon.”

You sigh in relief, happy to see Tim responding at least somewhat positively. You climb into bed next to him, though you’re careful not to get too close to him. You and Tim don’t really do physical contact beyond a high five for a job well done.

That’s what makes it all the more surprising when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side but making sure to be gentle, giving you ample opportunity to pull away if you need to. You don’t.

He doesn’t turn to look at you, keeping his eyes closed and his face towards the ceiling, his free hand idly resting over his stomach.

“…You ain’t too scared, are ya?” He drawls. You’re confused for a moment, but then the thunder sounds again and you realize what he means. You hadn’t even noticed the thunder since you walked in. It was nice.

“No, I’m fine, really,” You insist, “I’m not scared, it’s just hard to sleep with the noise. It’s more annoying than anything else.”

He gives a grunt of acknowledgment.

“You get on to sleep, then. Ain’t no reason for you to be tired tomorrow.”

You nod, moving a bit closer to him. He, in turn, wraps him arm a bit tighter around you. It feels…nice. Foreign, yes, but far from unpleasant. He smells like pine trees and faded Old Spice cologne.

You yawn softly, pulling the blanket up over the two of you as you get comfortable. A comfortable silence settles over you both as the sound of the thunder mixed with the blurry noise of the TV. You’re the first to break it, a question falling from your lips before you can really think of stopping it.

“…You were worried I was afraid?”

Tim shrugs, scratching at his stubble as he answers.

“I mean, I guess…I just wanted to make sure, ya know? Make sure you didn’t need me to do nothing to make you feel better…”

That makes you smile.

“Didn’t think you’d care that much…” You murmur with a hint of a giggle.

“Don’t be stupid,” Tim quickly snaps, “Course I care. I care about you. Ain’t no way for me not to. I’ve cared about you since the second I took you in. You’re not that young, I know, but back then you were just a kid to me. You’ve matured since then, yeah, but I’ll never forget the way you looked when I found you wandering the trail that day…”

“Yeah, yeah, and you remember when I was three apples tall, I get it,” You tease with a playful laugh. Tim can’t help but chuckle, giving you a little squeeze.

“Can it, ya little shit. You know what I’m sayin’. I knew what I was doin’ when I let you into my home, I wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t care.”

He’s got a point there. Most of the time Tim’s number one priority is self preservation. He rarely goes out of his way to do anything that doesn’t directly benefit him. He must’ve seen something in you absolutely worth the trouble. What exactly it is you’ll never know, but you’re certainly happy with where it’s gotten you.

You turn to him a bit, giving him a tired smile. He turns to you as though he can sense your stare, cracking open one eye to return your smile before laying his head back again.

“Alright, alright, ‘nuff yammerin’. Go to sleep,” He orders, reaching over to ruffle your hair before his hand rests back on his stomach. He never was good at being strict.

You stretch a bit before settling into your spot, getting as comfortable as you can so that you won’t have to shift around and risk bothering or waking up Tim later on. He hasn’t moved a muscle, his breathing already slowed and all of his muscles relaxed for once. It’s an odd sight, really. Usually he’s always holding some tension in his brow or jaw or shoulders, but he’s completely relaxed now, as are you. You finally feel like you could fall asleep.

“Night,” You mutter, your eyes fluttering shut. The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Tim’s southern drawl ringing in your ears.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

#gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #x reader #creepypasta #marble hornets #marble hornets tim #marble hornets masky #marble hornets x reader #masky #tim wright #masky x reader #tim wright x reader #creepypasta x reader

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thoughtsfromlayla · 2 months

Text

Love and Loss

Summary: Despite being married for centuries, the two lovers have yet to produce an heir. Desperate for a child, she makes a deal with Phanes, God of Life, unbeknownst to her that motherhood has its own complications much like love and marriage. Now she must find a way to save both her child and her love.

Notes: ~11k words, only lightly edited... so yeah. Also, this is my first time posting any of my writing so I'm nervous as fuuuuck. I keep switching between past and present tense but I think I caught them all but idk. Let me know if I miss any tags or warnings! (There's so many plot holes but shhhh)

Warnings: MDNI - 18+ content, one use of Y/N but written in 3rd person, Reader has a "name" that's only used twice, pregnancy, loss of pregnancy, metaphorical use of surrogation, usage of miscarriage themes, jealousy, P in V, oral (F! receiving), unprotected sex, jealous Dream but that's to be expected really, regency-esque, diverges from cannon

Masterlist

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Despite having been in the Dreaming for so long, its frigid air was something she could never get used to. The temperature always fixed itself somewhere between an unheated house on a winter’s day and a spring day in the shade. Despite her title in the realm, she always felt like a child walking to the kitchen late at night to grab a snack whenever she meanders into the great hall.

The castle of the Dreaming was her home, and she was the owner in every right as her husband. A small black cat accompanies her, its green collar and bell jingle with each step in its preppy trot. Her Lady wore simple garments, a dark green dress with slits to match her feline friend. Its light-weight fabric billows around her with a breeze that never seems to stop and some golden jewelry decorated her neck and arms, all gifts from his Lord. She opted to walk barefoot, skin to soil, so as not to hurt her feet necessarily before the upcoming dinner the Dreaming would host later today—the idea her own entirely that her husband agreed to for her sake.

Her legs move her toward the throne room, where she is certain her husband presides. Still, her feet are cold and thus she picks up the pace. Her steps are lighthearted as she prances on her tiptoes, heels dangling from her fingers.

Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of the Nightmare Realms, Prince of Stories. She was sure there were more, but if she were to start listing them all in her head, she’d be stuck there all day. Morpheus was as old as humanity itself, perhaps even older. But as she sees him spread out on his throne, the air of authority is never questioned. Age has only made him more intimidating.

Morpheus commands any space he enters. His shadow fills each nook and cranny it seemed fit, aura chilling and distant. Yet he himself was a beautiful creature indeed. His modern form molded himself into a lean body, distinct muscle lines, and a strong jaw. His dark hair always looked tousled as if he had rolled out of bed a mere minute ago, and despite how often she would run her hair through the silky strands, they never behaved as they should have.

“Wife, mine,” Morpheus greets as she nears the bottom of the stairs. “What ails you to seek me out?”

The Lady smiles and gives a small curtsy before she ascends the curved stairs. “Nothing ails me, my lord. Must one have a reason to see her husband?”

Morpheus lets out an entertained breath before opening his arms in invitation. Another graceful smile appears on her lips as she sits comfortably in his lap, his arms encircling her.

“No, I suppose not,” He replies. He watches as she makes herself as comfortable as she can, leaning her head on his shoulder in a way that wouldn’t mess up her hair. The handmaidens would not stop fussing over it if a single strand was out of place from their original design.

“I simply wish to spend some time with you before our feast. I fear that I will be whisked away as I entertain guests for the evening.” She closes her eyes and steadies herself on the patterned breathing of her husband.

“I will stay by your side if you so command it,” Morpheus says. He runs his thumb in circles on her bare shoulder.

“And have everyone afraid to approach me? With your dark and brooding act?” She jests, her eyes opening briefly to look into his.

He can’t help his eyes rolling at her slight tease. “As you wish, my love.”

The two lovers sit for a moment. The sounds of her cat purring and their breaths mingling fill the air. But serenity such as this never lasts long in a castle like theirs. Lucienne comes from a hallway, presumably, the library’s, dressed up as well. Her coat was tailored to fit her body, her shoes freshly shined, and her glasses cleaned.

She gives a curt bow to the two sovereigns. “My lord, my lady,” She addresses. “The guests will be arriving soon.”

“Thank you, Lucienne,” Her lady says. She reluctantly releases herself from the warmth of her husband and uses the throne as a brace to put on her shoes. Her husband’s hand rests on the small of her back to further assist her.

“I will see you very soon, my king,” She says leaning down to peck his cheek before descending the stairs. She looks back once with another smile and then follows Lucienne to greet the arriving guests.

Morpheus’s eyes watch her figure until she turns a corner. He was still underdressed, his day previously preoccupied with trying to find a certain nightmare. He was simply idling on his throne in a simple black attire with his long coat. After all, a king need not worry about how he looks if he commands respect without golden bribes. With a wave of his hand, sand befalls him and covers him like ivy to a broken wall. When they recede he is dawning a tight button-up undershirt and vest, its fabric weaved with intrinsic cloud-like designs. His coat is now replaced with another of a similar shape and design but resembles cotton instead of the original felt. He fastens the raven cufflinks and smooths down his pants before rising from his throne and going to the Dreaming’s castle garden.

When Morpheus enters the gardens he immediately spots his wife at the entrance, standing underneath a pergola of purple wisterias and climbing hydrangeas. The flowers slowly lean towards the goddess as her presence fuels them by simple proximity. Her cat is nowhere to be seen and probably ran off into the gardens after a rodent caught his eye.

Morpheus slides up beside his wife as she greets the last of the guests arriving. He turns his head towards the decorated table and can see a great spread of gods, goddesses, fairies, nymphs, and other mystical creatures that his wife had managed to befriend—the feeling of her arm wrapping around his redirects his attention.

“Shall we, lord husband?” She gives him another one of her smiles and he understands how the hanging flowers feel. How he had ever lived without her before was still a mystery to him. To be him without her, it is like the Earth without its Sun - and he wishes to always feel the gravitational pull of her love.

Morpheus leads them towards the aggregation of guests, all of whom devote their attention to them.

“Beloved guests,” His wife starts speaking in her nectar-like tone, “Despite what is currently happening in the waking world, we are pleased that you could make time and attend this wondrous dinner.”

The goddess pauses for a brief moment as her guests clap in agreement. When they stop, she continues. “The feast is served buffet style, please eat and enjoy yourself to the fullest content. The Dreaming is here for your convenience.”

With her open palm, a long table appears with dishes of all types. Wreaths and fresh flowers decorate any empty space, which is to say, not much. Lambs, beef, and several types of poultry and fish take centerpieces along the table. Fruits, vegetables, and freshly baked bread weave in between the large plates as palate cleansers and small plates appear on the very corners of the table. A satisfied smile appeared on Her Lady’s face as the guests began grabbing food.

As the dust settles and smaller niches of guests start grouping, Morpheus is displeased when his wife leaves his side to mingle amongst the other gods. He watches from the shadows, small fruit plate in hand, glooming as she smiles with her guests. A hand comes up to hide her mouth as she laughs at something Phanes, God of Life, said. Jealousy brews and grows bitter like spoiled milk.

Morpheus stands, ready to come to his wife’s side in hopes of deterring the god, but before he can a nymph comes forward and gives an exaggerated curtsy. He can’t help the slight roll of his eyes as she begins to talk him up. The nymph’s voice carries a small lithe to it and he becomes unfocused, only noticing the movement of his wife’s green dress and Phanes walking off into the hedge labyrinth.

A frown etches itself onto his face. The nymph choosing to ignore the frown finds the courage to lift a mossy hand to caress his coat’s lapel, to which the Endless notices. Morpheus looks down at the nymph, his hand tightly grabbing into her wrist and dropping it away from him.

“Do not presume you may touch me, insolent child.” His voice is deep and grave as his frown deepens.

The nymph’s face contorted into embarrassment as red poppies boom across her cheeks and ears. She briskly walks away, forgetting to curtsy, with her tail tucked between her legs. The forest nymph looks forward to the next time she meets the Dream King, but she does not know that this will be the last time the doors of the Dreaming will open to her.

Dream makes a beeline towards the hedge labyrinth, taking a right turn as he had witnessed his wife doing moments ago. But, as something as lucid as the Dreaming, the labyrinth path twists and turns in new ways each moment. Morpheus turns left and right based on where he could feel his wife’s presence, but seems that she does not want to be found.

As a deity in her own right, should she so command it, she would not be found. Something that the Endless found infuriating at the moment. What could she possibly be doing with Phanes? Did she invite him for a personal reason? Was the dinner event a ruse so she could speak with him without raising any questions? Well, Morpheus surely was starting to ask questions.

Jealously turned into guilt quickly like the crack of a lightning bolt. Has he not been a good husband? Was she getting bored of their marriage? It has been several centuries, after all. Guilt turned into sadness as the questions he asked started bringing down his spirit. Surely there is something he can do to make her happy again. Surely she is faithful, surely, surely, surely…

Morpheus stands still, the drive to find his wife lost. The hedge leaves shiver as the temperature grows colder from the king’s mood. The lovely sunset leaves the last of its warmth before disappearing, leaving the sky full of stars. He turns around and retraces his steps, if his wife does not want to be found, he will grant her this wish.

Morpheus would never admit to anyone that he mopes. But with his sluggish walk and downturned lips, he clearly was. He sees his wife had made it out of the labyrinth quite some time ago and is already waving her guests goodbye, Phanes nowhere in sight. When she sees him emerging from the hedges, she perks up and excuses herself from her conversation.

“Dear husband, where did you run off to? Too many people in your presence?” She jokes, latching herself onto his arm.

“I was merely looking for you,” Morpheous murmurs. He starts walking with her back to the castle.

He waits as his wife takes a pause, slowing down in step. “You followed me into the labyrinths?”

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say, but it certainly wasn’t that.

“Yes…” He draws out, trying to tread lightly, hoping that she would open up without much prompting. “I saw you and Phanes entering together.”

An amused huff escapes her. “I see.”

The silence lingers like the plague: uncomfortable and heavy in the air.

“Will you not speak as to why?” He questions and he almost hates how desperate he sounds.

The lady takes a seat on his throne, only to lean down and take off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. She rubs the ankles of her foot when she speaks again. “I believe it to be a personal matter.”

The answer was vague, and Morpheous hated it. Angry, gray storm clouds formed overhead and the ice-cold rain started to hit the stained glass behind her.

“Am I not worth sharing with?” He asks again, but he doesn’t stop to let her answer. With her eyes wide in surprise, he continues. “Am I not good enough? Faithful enough? Am I not devoted enough to you, my love? Will you command me to beg on my knees, I shall if you so ask.”

He falls to his knees before her and runs his hands from her ankle to her knee, slowly, deliberately. His lips follow soon after, tracing the same path his fingers had. Her breath hitches and her hearts start beating faster.

“How can I show my devotion to you, my love?” He kisses.

“My wife?” He kisses again.

“My forever goddess?” And again.

“Morpheus,” She breathes out, and it’s all he ever wants to hear. She is all he ever wants to breathe and all he wants to taste.

“I pray to Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, for forgiveness. I have left my wife unsatisfied and feel the crop of our love withered. I shall repent for my sins by your guidance.” Morpheus says in a hushed tone as he slowly inches higher on her leg.

The goddess feels power surge through her as the prayer leaves her husband's lips, and she craves the touch of them on her own. Heat pools between her legs as her husband’s breath fans across her lower regions. Her dress slits exposed her legs deliciously to Morpheous but there were still her undergarments, which he removed slowly, keeping contact with her silky skin as it slid down.

Her Lady looks down at him with uneven breaths and waits for him to give her what she wants. Morpheus, however, is patient. He traces his lips higher, he kisses all the spots she wants, but not where she needs it the most.

“Morpheus,” She pleads, and it is all he needs. One moment it is the cold air of the Dreaming and the next it is the warmth of his lips, tongue languishing the length of her slit.

She jerks in place, strong hands holding down her hips. Her own hands shoot out, desperate to grab onto anything. One, bear-clawed and desperate, on the arm of the throne and the other weaving itself into the silky strands of her husband. She gasps at the wet sensation and her head is thrown back in pleasure.

The Endless is unmovable, driven solely by the purpose of satisfying his wife. A low groan emits from deep in his throat at the unapologetic sounds she cries, babbling in a series of his name and other obscenities. He tilts his head higher until he finds her clit and relishes in the pain of her nails in his hair, lapping at her arousal with contentment until it drips down his chin. He is a starved man and she is his salvation.

Morpheus continues his demonstrations, alternating between her clit and her needy cunt. She clenches her thighs hard as she feels the impending rise of her orgasm. Her fingertips buzz with excitement as he continues to ravish her sensitive clit. His pace continues, and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

She calls out his name again, and a high-pitched whine leaves her lips as he easily adds two digits into her weeping hole. He moves them slowly, slightly curved to touch that delicious spot inside her that has her arching her back taught like a bow. From below, Morpheus looks at her through his lashes, and he can’t help the smirk that tugs on his lips as his wife tries to thrash from the sensations. She tightens around him, cunt pulsing sporadically, and he is flooded with her orgasm where he drinks greedily from the taste - sweet like a plentiful summer wine.

He places a final gentle kiss on her clit before looking at her again, the skin of her extremities glowing ethereally as she tries to control her ragged breaths. She is still in the midst of her orgasm, trying to calm herself from the high and he finds it the perfect time to leave a bruising hickey on the inside of her plush thighs. Morpheus gets up, dick painfully hard as it brushes against his pants. He takes hold of her hands to help her stand on wobbly legs and leans back.

He leans until he falls, through the throne room floor and then onto the plushness of their shared bed. His command dematerializes both of their clothes and he basks in the sticky warmth of his wife on top of him. He runs light fingers down her spine, shivers following behind like a loyal companion, whispering sweet nothings into her ears.

“Come back to me,” He murmurs, kissing her sweat-filled brow.

“Hmm,” The goddess exhales after a few more seconds of silence, eyes opening languishingly, lashes tickling the skin of her husband.

She looks around the dimly lit room for a moment before realizing that she is in their bed. Using her husband’s chest, she props herself up, effectively straddling him beneath her. Morpheus remains unmoving, ignoring the way his tip brushes against her lower lips, only messaging the meat of her hips with his thumb.

When she meets his eyes again, he speaks. “Have I proven myself, dear wife?”

It takes a moment for the goddess to remember what he was talking about and her feelings crash down again. “You had never needed to prove yourself to me, Morpheus. What happened between me and Phanes will remain between me and Phanes.”

She lifts herself on sore thighs, but can’t get far as gentle hands turn rough. The next moment, she is lying down with her husband looming over her. There was not enough light to illuminate his face, leaving only the impression of his merciless, mercury eyes. Deep down, she knows no harm will ever befall her, but in this moment, something primal presents itself.

Perhaps it is how his eyes bore into her very soul, to the very moment she was born several millennia ago. Or perhaps, she was just crazy about how his touch was driving her mad. She was very aware of the appendage that settled between the two of them and the way that her slick was coating it. His hands cup her cheek and slide down her neck and her head tilts back at the ticklish and yet pleasurable sensation. She swallows thickly and a broken sigh escapes her as his hand ghosts over her nipple.

Shivers bloom once more as his mouth incloses over the perk nipple, suckling at it in a way that has her legs wrapping around his waist. Her arms come up and snake over his shoulders, fingers gliding over the smooth marble-like skin, then resting behind his neck. One of her hands finds itself back into his hair, clenching as he gives continuous pleasure to her body.

Her hips buck up, her pussy clenching down on nothing. Cold fingers glide down the center of her stomach, going lower and lower until they cup her heat. A thumb gently circles her clit, understanding the overstimulation it recently received. They trace over her outer lips, downwards, then upwards again, coating themselves with a mixture of spit and arousal.

Morpheus removes himself from her breasts and presses his lips at the junction between her neck and shoulder. He licks at the sweat that accumulates on her collarbone and continues up her neck. When he faces her again, he speaks.

“Beg for it.” He commands.

Her Lady remains silent, slowly chewing on the inside of her lip, weighing the options in her head. Morpheus, as always, is patient and he continues running his fingers between her folds, keeping his pace but occasionally rubbing his pointer finger in circles around her clit. When she realizes that he really would just keep rubbing her and nothing else, she opens her mouth.

“P-please,” She stutters, the mere idea of begging or pleading foreign on her tongue. As a goddess, one would never allow such lowly behavior. Nevertheless how her husband will give her whatever she asks for.

Morpheus hums in approval, removing his hand to hold his dick instead. He rubs it this time in lieu of his fingers around her cunt and the goddess almost begs again. Before she can, a moan releases from both of them as he inserts himself into her and she whimpers at the familiar dull ache of being stretched out. Morpheus dips his head between her neck and shoulder again and remains stiff, feeling the warmth that only his wife can provide.

He pulls out and she mews beneath him in pleasure, ushering him to fill her up once again. Her cunt sucks him back and he wraps one of his arms underneath her waist to ground him. The other slams against the headboard of the bed, and he grabs on for all he is worth. His thrusts grow harder as her cries grow louder and he feels the way she clenches down on him.

“How divine you are, my love,” He says with a shaky breath, kissing more bruising hickeys that he hopes will last for millennia. He blows cold air over them and goosebumps rise in place, her back arching again and he can feel each perk nipple rubbing against his chest.

She moans his name again, losing herself in each drag of his cock, screaming curses when the head brushes against her sensitive spot, and whimpering when it kisses her cervix. Morpheus rises, looking down on his wife with half-lidded eyes, running a hand down between the valley of her breasts, feeling each desperate breath of air. He goes lower and groans when he sees how the two of them are connected.

Each thrust creates an unholy, slick noise and he can see the inflamed clit begging for attention. He presses his fingers on her lower stomach and she cries out for him.

“Can you feel me, my Queen?” He growls down at her, feeling the way his dick moves within her.

“Yes!” She cries back, her brows furrow and her cunt pulses around him, gripping him like a vice.

“Do you love me, my Queen?” He asks again.

“Yes!” She cries again. She starts begging again. Please, please, please, please. “Don’t stop, please my King. Please, don’t stop!”

“Will you tell me why you spoke with Phanes?” His last question.

Her eyes snap open, all the build up from her orgasm lost in the question. With her legs still around his waist, she twists her hips and topples Morpheus over until he is beneath her again.

“No,” She whispers, rocking her hips back and forth to regain the momentum they had lost.

This time, it is him who pleads. “Please,” He whispers back. His hands cup at the roundness of her ass cheeks, loving how soft they were.

She increases the ferocity of her grinds, looking down at her husband like he had just done with her. His head tosses back and she loves watching his Adam’s apple slide up and down his throat as he moans for her. His eyes are squeezed shut and his grip tightens but she doesn’t relent.

That familiar searing hot feeling appears again in her lower stomach and with one final grind she releases her orgasm all over him, falling onto his heaving chest. Morpheus cums right after, shooting his release into her in hot loads and she feels each jolt inside of her.

Her orgasm rocks through her body, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time. It tingles in her fingers and toes and when she closes her eyes, she sees the stars of the Dreaming shinging back at her. When she comes back to her senses (again) she can feel her husband’s hand running through her bed hair, untangling it as much as he could with the one hand. The other hand holds her waist flush with his. The two lovers share a quiet moment after their throw of passion before she speaks again.

“Phanes and I…” She starts, and she can feel Morpheus stiffen under her. She groans as his cock is still deep in her, semi-hard and the only thing keeping them together.

She shifts a bit and some of their combined release pool down onto his abdomen. He would never admit to her how filthy he thought it was, nor the fact that he loved it all the same.

“Yes?” Morpheus urges, looking down at her on his chest with full attention.

“We made a deal.” She finishes her sentence.

Everything stops as Morpheus sits up. “What deal did you strike? I can do it instead, terminate the deal at once, my love.” He says with anxiety.

His wife grabs onto him as she is rocked back and a smile appears on her face. “Morpheus, my love, you have done your part.” Her smile turns sad and a forlorn look cloaks her face and she casts her gaze downwards. “We just needed some extra help.”

A confused look crosses Morpheus’s face. He brings a hand to lift her chin to look at him. With the raise of an eyebrow, he doesn’t have to say anything for his wife to know he wants a better explanation.

“I asked for a child, Morpheus.”

When her husband remains quiet, her lips start to tug downwards and his heart lurches at the sight. Her waterline soon floods with tears.

“We have not been able to produce an heir once.” She says, voice wavering. She dares not to blink for she is afraid if a single tear were to fall, all of them would.

“What in return?” He asks.

“I look after his pet snake for a weekend.” She replies simply. Morpheus has returned to his previous position.

The tears start to fall, each fat drop hitting his skin seemingly striking him directly in the heart. “You need not worry, wife. This time it will take, with Phanes’s help or not.” He whispers into the crown of her head.

She nods once, sniffling as her nose starts to run, too. The rhythmic breathing below her and the continued brushing of her hair rocks her to a dreamless sleep. Morpheus wraps his arms protectively around her frame and should he have known, he would’ve stayed longer. He would’ve held her tighter, kissed her longer, and promised her that he would be there when she woke. Alas, there was a missing nightmare, rampaging through the waking world, something that was his responsibility as king.

When she wakes up the next morning, with a satisfying ache throughout her body, the bed was cold and empty, and her husband was nowhere to be seen. To say that this was new behavior would be a lie, unfortunately. The number of times that a night of passionate love-making ended in a cold and lonely morning was more than she could count on her fingers and toes. That isn’t to say that Morpheus didn’t want to stay in bed with her, it’s simply a sovereign that understands his responsibilities, and she could never blame her husband for that.

Avoiding the difficult conversation the two lovers shared last night, her Lady avoids the locations her husband is most likely to reside in. Instead, she chooses to look towards her duties in the Dreaming. She finds herself amongst a simple dream from a small farmer who looks after sheep, who struggles with getting their weight to increase during the harsh winters. Carefully, she admits herself to him, dressed in a light yellow dress, sunflowers decorating the fabric and her hair. Her hands were covered in dirt, and she held a shepherd’s crook that had a bell attached to the end.

The farmer looks up from his rocking chair, prized sheep chewing lazily around him, and smoke from his pipe circles him. His face was rough - old and wrinkled from long days in the sun during his youth. But she smiles gently at him when his laugh lines appear around the edges of his eyes and mouth.

She stands next to him and they stare out on his flock together. He shares his life story. The story of a young boy whose father was also a farmer, and his father before him, and his father before him. He talks about his first puppy, named Barkly, his first love, whom he lost after he was drafted into the First World War, and how he now finds solitude with his late wife’s grave and his grandchildren.

He mentions that he needs to fatten his sheep up for the winter as he can’t lose any more stock so he may afford medicine for his sick grandson. He confesses that he has tried everything and nothing seems to have worked. He looks up at her now, tired, and slumped over, and realization dawns on his face as she smiles down at him.

She whispers at him a simple solution, one he can’t quite hear over the muddle of a dream. He stands abruptly as her figure distorts, the dawn is rising and a farmer’s body rises with it. He thanks her - he offers a sheep for her, which she nods at before he wakes from his dream.

The goddess visits a few more dreams, each giving her ethereal presence. Some were like the one she was just at, some needed comfort from the loss of animals, and some dreamed of a new pet to have. By the 5th dream, she realizes that several days had passed in the waking world, and her husband was nowhere to be found.

She admits to herself that she had been avoiding him longer than she intends, but perhaps it was time to face him again. She teleports to the castle, summoning herself before the drawbridge of the magnificent building. The ivory dragon perks up at her arrival, but otherwise pays no attention to her, going back to hoarding its gold coins, a few of them falling when she crosses the large doors.

As always, the castle is slightly colder than what she likes. A small sense of deja vu encapsulates her as she walks to the all-familiar throne room. This time, however, it was empty. No figure on the throne, nor the stairs as he sometimes preferrs it. Odd, she thinks, but not impossible. So she turns a corner to the library, she often finds him here as well, looking over the books of his dreamers. She searches high and low, through each aisle and reading spot, but still nothing. Anxiety and thoughts of doubt begin to fill her. Perhaps she did mess up, making that deal with Phanes.

Her last stop was Cain and Able’s homes. She finds the two brothers in front of their own homes, tending to their garden and playing with the gargoyle that Morpheus had given them. The two were of no help as they were unable to answer something worthy of even a hint of where her husband was.

She rolls her eyes as the walk away from their homes was accompanied by the sound of a scream and the resolute bang of a metal shovel hitting a skull.

As her last resort, she calls for Lucienne. Often, she hopes to never bother her, understanding that the work she puts into maintaining the Dreaming is never-ending. And, she knew that if she were to ask something of her, Lucienne would stop everything to help her.

“His Lord left several nights ago to fetch the Corinthian,” She spoke, pushing up her round glasses.

“And since then?” She questions, her hands wringing with themselves. She hopes for an answer she knows she won’t get.

Lucienne shakes her head no. “My Lady, Jessamy hasn’t returned either. Perhaps his Lord is simply taking longer than usual.”

“Let us hope,” She says defeated.

For the next few months, the goddess stays within the Dreaming. Each day that passes, more hope was lost for her husband's return. Doubt and anxiety cloud her mind at the uncertain future.

She looks down at her stomach, a distinguishable bump had made its appearance and she rubs it gently with her hand. The deal with Phanes went through, she is with child. She should be happy right? Except for the obvious fact that Morpheus still had not returned.

Her cat lounges at her feet where she sits and she pets its head. With a trill, it looks at her, similar mercury eyes of her husband stares back. She had no choice but to find him herself.

“Go,” She asks of it. “Go to the waking world, find Morpheus.”

The cat sits up and stretches, hind high in the air. Its claws grips into the plush carpet it rests on. With another stretch to its lower back, it trots off, the jingling sounds of its bell disappearing as it crosses over to the waking world.

All the goddess could do was wait and hope. She runs another anxious hand across her stomach and a tear escapes her.

Lucienne had mentioned it to her in passing a few days ago. The librarian stated that it probably was nothing to worry about, but the conversation had stuck with the goddess since.

The Dreaming is dying.

As much as the Dreaming is hers through marriage, it is suffering without its true ruler in the realm. She could see it in the dying leaves and small cracks of the castle. The ivory dragon that rests above the castle has gotten more restless in the past few weeks. And despite her best efforts to comfort the animal, the dragon did not listen to the Goddess of Husbandry.

This brings up a second concern of hers. The child she carries is as much a part of her as it is the Dreaming’s. It embodies a part of the Dream Lord and if the Dreaming is suffering, there stands to reason that her husband is suffering as well. If both of these entities are suffering, what is to happen to her child?

This child that she already loves until she is forgotten and nothing but stardust and she had been asking for centuries. This child that Morpheus is finally ready to love after the untimely death of his son. She must find Morpheus, and soon.

For the sake of the Dreaming and her child.

Several more weeks pass and her cat had yet to come back. She only hopes that it was due to the difficulty of finding an Endless and not because it got distracted with a family whose heart was big enough to take in a “stray” cat. Each day that passes, she grows significantly weaker. The prayers of her followers still ring in her ears, but she could not leave the Dreaming to help her devotees.

Another war broke out among the humans, the one they call World War II. Less and fewer people were crossing over into the dreaming and slowly, the once beautiful realm was losing its colors. The goddess couldn’t stop the residents of the realm from leaving its gates, the Dreaming was no longer a place they wished to stay. Furthermore, there weren’t enough dreamers for them to bother staying. She only remains thankful for those who decided to stay.

She sits on Morpheus’ throne, the castle colder than ever. Behind her, the once beautiful stained glass had shattered. The Corinthian had still not been captured, or else her husband would have been home and Fiddler’s Green had decided to leave. She runs a hand through her hair at the issues that seem to keep piling up. As she ignores her prayers, her powers start to wane. Fewer and fewer people were still believing in her.

And how could she blame them? She hasn’t made herself present in any of their prayers and with the war, people were less concerned about animals and more about themselves. She sighs.

A sharp pain yanks her out of her thoughts and a scream rips from her throat. She doubles over from the throne and kneels, hunching over on the floor. The pain spreads across her lower abdomen and a shaking hand holds her stomach. Immediately she knew something was wrong and it involved the safety of her child.

For a moment, she couldn’t breathe, too focused on staying conscious. The throne room was empty, her fall echoed around and bounced across the wide walls. When she thought the pain was over, she took in a large breath, inhaling shakily in gulps.

Salvation lasts a few seconds before another wave of pain overwhelms her. It wraps around her like a hot blanket on a sweltering day, sticking to her skin and making her overstimulated. Too much was happening at once and it was almost too hard to bear.

“Lucienne!” She screams between cramps. Tears fall in fat drops onto the floor and wets the hand propping her up.

Lucienne appears quickly, followed closely by Mervin. Hands grab at her weak body and hoist her back onto the throne. Where she had fallen, blood pooled and more fell from between her legs.

Her whole body shakes with shivers and a whimper leaves her.

“My Lady,” Lucienne says with concern. The librarian couldn’t stop from staring at the growing pool of blood below her.

“What do we do?” Mervin asks. Even though he was a glorified janitor, constructor, and destructor for the Dreaming, he didn’t know how to fix this.

“Call for Phanes,” Their Lady said weakly. Sweat begins to appear like morning dew across her forehead. For once, she was grateful for the cool temperature.

“Mervin, take her to his Lord’s chambers,” Lucienne instructs. She doesn’t stay to watch as she sprints to the library.

She flips through leather-bound books, old and new until she finds the correct summoning spell she was looking for. The loyal librarian could only hope that a god would listen to a dream like her.

She hauls the large book into the room her Lady lays in. Labored breathing came from both women, although for two vastly different reasons.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I require your assistance,” Lucienne said next to the goddess’ bed.

The goddess gives her a hand limply and Lucienne starts chanting the words on the page while holding her cold fingers. The wind whirls around them and Mervin holds onto his pumpkin head to not have it knocked off.

Lucienne finishes the spell and looks down. Her Lady was glowing with power but she could not have looked any more weak. Nothing happens for a few bated breaths, only the sound of howling wind around them. Then nothing, not even the sound of crickets could be heard.

Enters Phanes, golden and warm like the sun. He materializes in a cloud of golden dust. He slams his staff down, and his golden snake slithers up from under his robes.

“Who dares summon m-”

“Lord Phanes,” Lucienne interrupts, something she knows she would be punished for, if not for the more important matter at hand.

A glare is thrown her way and softens at the familiar face. Phanes’ eyes travel across the intertwined fingers and land on his friend.

Weak eyes open and meet his. The godly figure is almost too much to stare directly at.

As if understanding what was happening to his friend, he drops the golden light he had been shining. The Dreaming returns to its cold blue, and it was just two deities and two dreams in understanding.

“A new deal,” Phanes announces and the goddess wants to weep again. Judging by how her husband acted the last time she had done this, she was going to be doomed. But the decision was easily made.

“Anything,” she whispers. Her eyelids are starting to feel heavy. She had delivered countless calves, kittens, and cubs, but never another deity. Was she supposed to feel this weak?

Silky scales slide across her feverish skin and she is face to face with Phanes’ serpent.

“Give your child to him, he will keep them safe until they may come to fruition. Until then, you must look after the serpent as if it is of your blood.”

The goddess could barely pay attention but understood in a way without words. She nods in agreement and the relief begins almost immediately.

Pain seeps out of her body, slow, like molasses and her body starts to glow again. Lucienne shields her eyes and peeks through her fingers. The goddess’ stomach glows and deflates.

A small glowing ball releases itself from the warmth of her womb, its dim light is warm and lights the room like a lantern on a foggy night. A weak hand cups it and it sits in the palm of its mother.

“Hello, darling son,” She whispers. The ball stays still, a small high-pitched noise emitting from itself.

The goddess smiles. “Darling daughter, then?” This time, the ball bounces gently a few times in response but otherwise doesn’t do anything.

The golden serpent is slowly making its way up the arm that holds the glowing orb. A tongue flicks out and smells it. Then with a nod from the goddess, the serpent unhinges its mouth and swallows the child whole. The light shines through the crevices of its eyes and ears as it makes its way down the serpent's throat. Eventually, the light dissipates and the serpent looks all the same, save for the bulge in its stomach.

A sense of longing borrows itself into her chest where her heart lies. Quite literally, the light disappears right in front of her. Physically, her pain had been removed, only the dried blood between her legs reminded her of what had happened just moments prior. And yet, a dull pain resides. Something she couldn’t put her finger on, but she could feel it behind her eyes and how it lodges in her throat.

Her gaze is unfocused as she pets the golden snake, her golden snake now, her child. For the rest of the night, she rests and Phanes leaves without a word. Lucienne stays by her side the whole time, eyes only moving when the serpent shifts. Mervin went back to work after a few hours, the castle’s foundation still cracking under their feet. He left with a sorrowful look, well, as sorrowful as a pumpkin head could be.

As the sun rises the next day, the goddess wakes up to not only the snake by her side but the librarian and her long awaited cat. Lucienne wakes up at the first shift that her Lady makes and stands.

“Let me draw you a bath,” She said before any debate.

“Lucienne,” Her Lady calls after her anyway in rejection. All of her handmaidens had left. They were only there to help the goddess under the instruction of the Dream Lord who created them. Without him here, no one would punish them for leaving and not attending his wife.

Still, the librarian doesn’t listen and disappears into the joined bathroom. Meanwhile, the goddess looks down at her cat and raises an eyebrow. It has certainly gotten fatter. And a new name tag was attached to his collar next to his bell.

“Buttons,” She said out loud, reading the new name. At that, the cat perks up and stares back at her disappointed face. “You got distracted on your mission didn’t you?”

She pets his rounder stomach and scratches his head. “Well, they certainly loved you…” The hidden passive-aggressive message was evident.

The cat, now Buttons, doesn’t bother with a response. Instead, it lays back down, flicking its tail aggressively at her comment.

She rolls her eyes. “Did you locate his Lord?”

Buttons rolls onto his back and stretches, belly exposing to her, and opens his mouth in a yawn. “Burgess Manor,” He says and turns his body away from her.

Finally, an answer. She throws the blanket off her body and goes to stand. She looks at her closet, thinking of what to wear to the waking world to retrieve her husband.

“My Lady!” Lucienne exclaims as she walks out of the bathroom. The goddess looks over at her and notices her staring at her dress. She looks down as well and remembers all of the blood that she spilled last night. It had caked itself into the fabric and was still crusted on the inside of her legs.

The librarian’s shock was still on her face when she realizes that her Lady fully intends to go to the waking world looking like that, having overheard the conversation between her and the cat. Lucienne insists she take a bath first and that she would find something for her to wear.

Her Lady doesn’t disagree and disappears into the steaming bathtub that was made for her. She doesn’t regret it for a second the moment she steps in. The warmth was comforting like a mother huddling to keep its cub warm. The water washes away the filths of yesterday and within the embrace of the water, she finally cries.

It’s not a gentle cry, it is hiccups and gasping for breath. The pain of yesterday that she felt behind her eyes and in her throat spills out. Her bathwater which used to smell of apples and cinnamon now turns into a maroon as her blood washes out. It starts to smell of iron and salt and it reminds her of war.

Her hand runs over her stomach and a whimper leaves her again at the lack of the bump she had grown so accustomed to. Logically, she knows that her child, no her daughter, was safe. But, one would have to admit that having their daughter in the stomach of a serpent was a bit unnerving.

A golden head peaks at her over the side of the ceramic bathtub and flicks out its tongue.

She sniffs the last of her tears away and pets its head with her index finger. “I’m sorry for leaving you already, dear daughter.”

The serpent’s stomach had grown twice as large since last night and since this is new territory for her, she must make haste so she may be back in the dream to witness the birth of her daughter.

Before she left, though, she walks into the castle gardens and gets to work. From her fingertips she grows a birch tree, its white branches and muted green leaves fit right into the dying realm around them. She sprouts flowers and brushes for scenery and a bed made of straw under a tunnel that she dug out.

The golden serpent follows her and slithers up her body, wrapping around her curves. When its head was next to hers, it let out a rattling-like noise in agreement with the small open enclosure the goddess had made for it. It slides back down her body and makes it home in the tunnel.

“Mommy will be back,” She whispers to it when it settles in and gives it a quick peck on the top of its head. It flicks its tongue at her and moves further into its nest.

The goddess stands back up and dusts off any dirt that could have gotten on her dress. Lucienne helps her pick out an appropriate attire for the waking world. Something she wouldn’t personally wear, but it certainly helps to blend in with the mortals. She quickly had to locate her husband. After all, she has no idea how long it takes for a snake to incubate a child.

It was easy to find the Burgess Manor when she arrives in the waking world. Everyone who was anyone spoke about the grand magus who managed to capture the devil in his basement. That the devil had granted him eternal life and some other rumors. All she had to do was flaunt a smile and go where the fingers pointed.

The rumors, of course, were mere rumors. The devil? No. Without knowing it, Rodrick Burgess managed to capture something even more powerful. How he had managed to keep him captured was a different question entirely and the goddess had a sneaking suspicion that he had some help.

It was nightfall when she arrives at the gates of the manor. Thousands of people clamor in the front garden, talking amongst themselves. Suddenly, the clothing she had worn was not fit for the environment she was walking into. Using a little bit of her powers, she changes the outlook of her clothing into something else. It was a bit more formal, growing longer and softer to the touch. However, if someone were to squint and stare hard enough, they would be able to see the original dress she had worn.

She weaves her way to the front and listens carefully to the words around her.

“I had arrived this morning, my feet are killing me.”

“Ha, me as well. But anything to get into the manor. I want to see what the Great Magus is hiding.”

“Not to mention the party of your lifetime!” They joke together.

Someone taps her on her shoulder. Another young man was waiting to be let in.

“You are a new face,” He comments and takes her hand. He presses his lips to the back of it. She takes her hand back and wipes it away on the back of her dress while keeping a smile.

“Yes, I wish to see the Great Magus himself.” She half-lies through her teeth. The young gentleman offers an arm to her which she reluctantly takes. Perhaps he will be the key to getting into the manor.

The doors of the manor open and people slowly trickle in. She peers over shoulders into the manor but couldn’t immediately find anything of note that would be dangerous. The warmth of the building fans over her as she enters through the large doors and a breath of relief escapes her.

“Isn’t it everything you could ever dream of?” The gentleman asks. He looks down at her with a smile.

She looks around, the manor was certainly lively. Foods of all kinds sprawl out on tables, fresh flowers almost too sweet to smell, and candlelight flickers and dances from the sudden wind. There were some party tricks as well, the flames seem to sparkle a bit more, bubbles were floating around in the air without popping, and the statues follows her with their eyes. But, they were all small party tricks, nothing to indicate this holier-than-thou man.

Through the buzz of it all, she could feel it. The string of fate that connects her to her husband. It was faint, but it was there and she knew she was in the right place. She just had to find out where.

A man emerges on the top of the stairs to the second floor and opens his arms in a flourish. She frowns at him because there he was, Rodrick Burgess, the man who took her husband. By the end of tonight, she promises herself, there will be no Rodrick Burgess.

“Ow, dang you’ve got a grip on you,” She breaks eye contact with Rodrick when her escort for the evening exclaims out. She releases the iron grip she had wrapped around his lower arm and apologizes.

“I am terribly sorry,” She apologizes. “Actually, I am parched, can you be a gentleman and fetch me some lemonade?” She bats her eyelashes and gives a smile. His face lights up in a blush and runs off to fetch her the lemonade she wants.

As soon as he was out of eyesight, the goddess began moving. She moves between bodies like wind on the beachfront - gracefully, wistfully, but with purpose. She uses her senses to locate where her husband could be. It was like an invisible dance.

When the sense weakens she backtracks, when it strengthens she moves forward. She was so lost in her quest that she almost did not register when she ran into a wool-covered chest. Surprise overtook her face as she looks up, ready to apologize and continue on her way. But she stops when she realizes that the man she bumps into is the very host of the party.

“Rodrick Burgess,” She says almost breathlessly. Oh, how she wants to commit a grievous crime to this mortal.

The old man chuckles above her and grabs onto her shoulders. His fingers are cold when they come into contact with her bare skin and she wants to cringe away from his touch, but he holds on strong.

“You seem like a curious creature, my little dove,” He comments and starts to walk. Without much room to budge, she is reluctant to follow him.

“Yes,” She drawls out much like how Morpheus tends to do. She suddenly acts with interest when she realizes that the bond strength between her and her husband increases. She holds on tighter and presses her body against his arm.

“I heard that the great Magus kept the devil in the basement of his manor. Can we see it?” She fakes a supple voice and looks up at him with an innocent smile.

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think a small thing such as yourself would want to see the devil.”

“No!” She belts out, a bit too quickly. But she recovers smoothly. “What I mean to say is, I am far too excited to see him. Please don’t deny me this one pleasure Great Magus.”

“How loathsome,” She thinks to herself.

“Very well, I can’t deny you anything if you keep looking at me like that.” He confirms.

Rodrick Burgess leads her away from the party, down a long and quiet hallway. It is decorated with antique and rare collectibles. The older man talks about each one, dragging on his time that leads to her husband, but she nods along anyway.

She had waited decades to be in the arms of her husband again, a few more minutes surely wouldn’t hurt. Soon, she is led to a dark and demanding set of double doors. Locks and bolts seal it from top to bottom. With a nod of Rodrick’s head, the guards stationed outside open the door slowly and a cold air seeps out and blows her hair back. The basement smells musty of old water and stale air. A cough emits from further down the stairs and she frowns.

“Scared yet, child?” Rodrick says to her mockingly.

She only shakes her head no as she continues down the steps.

The smell grows stronger as she gets closer and she can also make out a small portion of dirt and sand amidst it all. Despite it, the air was crisp and cold, suitable for a stone basement.

A light emits from the end of the long staircase downwards and she can’t stop her jaw unhinging as she finally sets her eyes on her husband. Tears well up in her eyes as they dart across the room.

Arches supported the basement throughout the floor and a moat still separates between her and her husband. A singular fluorescent light is cast on him in a glass prison as if he were some circus animal on display. Below the glass prison were some sort of gold runic markings and even from far away, she could feel the real magic emitting from them.

Rodrick releases her hold on him and turns to the two guards on duty that night. “You two may go,” He instructs, and the two leave without debate.

At the sound of his voice, Dream opens his eyes but remains in his laid position. His gaze pierces into his corrupt heart, if he even had one left, but quickly notices his wife by his side. With this, he sits up and gently places a hand on the glass barrier.

“Would you look at that!” Rodrick boasts. “He moves, he doesn’t do that much. Perhaps he has feelings for a pretty thing like you.”

The goddess doesn’t hear him and walks up to the glass cage in a trance. How does she free him? Tears fall restlessly down her face and her stature dejects. She snaps out of her trances on the small bridge above the stagnant water when a rough hand squeezes her upper arms.

“Stop, you must not get any closer. He is trying to seduce you into releasing him!” Rodrick hashes out between gritted teeth.

She opens her mouth to tell him something, anything, to release her husband but stops when she hears Dream’s voice again.

“Wife,” He calls simply and her body fills with all of the love and adoration she had been missing for decades.

Rodrick’s grip tightens at his voice, the first time he remembers hearing it. With a shocked face, he looks down at the woman in his grip. “Wife?!” He screams at her furiously.

She takes a deep breath and steels herself, ripping herself away from his bruising grip, and stands between him and her husband. The tears had dried and only anger left in its wake.

“The one before you is Daleena, Goddess of Husbandry, Mother of Agriculture and Protector of Animals, Saint of Farmers, Queen of the Dreaming, wife of Dream of the Endless. You face me now, mortal.”

Wind swirls, somehow, in the basement but it is the least of Rodrick’s worries. He plants himself firmly as the wind picks up and sand envelops the two of them in a vortex of anger.

“I have captured something more than a god! I have an Endless!” He points a finger at her, eyes scrutinizing. “What makes you think you can defeat me? The Great Magus Rodrick Burgess?”

Walking a few steps forward, her shepherd’s crook materializes in her hand, the bell jingling violently in the wind. Her extremities start to glow their familiar light as she musters power. She points the staff at Rodrick as billets of wheat start growing around his feet and crawl up his legs, the nice wool of his pants long forgotten against the harsh stalks of the plants. The plants bloom as it sucks the life away from the very thing they grew on.

Rodrick starts chanting in Greek.

“Prostasía,” He chokes out. “Prostasía.” He chants again and he breathes easier. “Prostasía.” He chants one more time and he’s back to standing at his full height. The plants that were wrapped around him wither away and fell into dust, sucked into the sand vortex around them.

The goddess frowns, she did not realize how much power she had lost until now when a simple protection chant could stave off her attacks. Rodrick lunges at her, hands open and clawed, ready to grab onto any piece of her clothing. In turn, she slams her crook into the ground and a fissure opens up, but not before he can shove her further and her body slams into the wall of the glass prison. The fissure separates the two opponents away from each other and Rodrick steps back before he falls into the Earth.

She braces herself on the glass wall at the impact and loses her breath for a moment. She could feel the warmth of her husband’s hand and she turns away from Rodrick to look at him. His hand was aligned with her own, so close, only inches apart.

“The runes, my love,” Morpheus tells her. She looks down at looks at the graphics that surround them, the sand had erased some of it through the abrasive nature of itself. The magic within the runes would still be strong if not for the defiant smudge she creates with her foot, just in time for the fissure to finish opening. With a final look at her husband, she walks closer to the fissure, pulling the sand vortex smaller so it was just her and Rodrick again.

From the fissure glows a golden light, soft and merciful but quickly overshadowed by the growing dust. The light expands as the golden serpent which holds her daughter emerges. It had grown in size since the last time she had seen it. Its length and mass have nearly tripled in size and the baby bulge it used to flaunt was now merely a small bump.

Rodrick’s stare grows higher and higher as the snake continues to emerge, it stares at the man, tongue flicking angrily at him for daring to harm the goddess. The snake lunges, all fangs and dripping venom, its large scales clattering against each other like gold coins. Rodrick moves to the side and the serpent misses. It hisses in retaliation and comes around again, this time wrapping its body around the legs of the Great Magus.

Panic sets in as the serpent starts to constrict around the man and he can feel his pulse pounding against his head and the blood circulation gets cut off. The bones in his knees pop as they press together.

“Father!” A young boy’s voice screams across the vortex and the goddess sees a glint of silver cross into the vortex arena.

The serpent is halfway up Rodrick’s body when the goddess notices the sharp dagger that Rodrick now possesses. He rises it high in the air and with a large gasp plunges it into the flesh of the serpent. The golden scales provide little to no protection against the artifact.

“No!” She screams and takes a step forward, only to be stopped by the protective tail of the serpent.

The metal hisses as it melts against the golden scales, melting the scales together until they become smooth around the wound. Rodrick slides again and again until the weapon becomes too slippery with blood and he loses grip. The snake is now a mosaic of gold and red as it tightens one last time.

“Curse… you…” Rodrick strains out, his face turning purple as the last bit of air leaves him. The serpent weakens and falls in a slump like an inanimate rope and the sand around them falls like rain.

The goddess leaps over the fissure and after making sure the man is dead runs to the head of the golden serpent. Its eyes were dim, mouth agape as its muscles weakens and she can no longer feel it breathing on her skin when she places a hand above its nostrils.

“No, no no,” She mumbles to herself. She grabs her dress up and away from her feet as she makes her way down the length of the serpent. When she reaches where she last saw the small baby bump, she runs her hand along its underside, soon becoming slick with cooling blood.

She finds a particular cut that was deeper than normal and when she sticks her hand in there, they grab around a small appendage. A cry of relief leaves her lips as she digs deeper. She pulls her baby from the dying body and cradles it to her body. Golden scale imprints are decorated across her arms and legs and a few more along the spine of her back.

Her breath hiccups as silence fills the air. She pats her daughter’s back and wipes her mouth clean and panic seeps into her bones when still she remains quiet.

Morpheus appears behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turns to him, tears streaking down her neck.

“Crying, why-why isn’t she crying?!” She wails and clutches her child harder against her chest.

Morpheus hugs her from behind and holds the two of them to his chest.

“Y/N,” He calls her name, her real name. Not her titles, or what the mortals call her, but the name given to her since her creation.

She weeps into his form, salty tears mixing with blood and the amniotic fluid that covers her child. Her tears fall into her daughter’s mouth and feed into the child her grief, regret, and guilt as well as the hope she still had in her.

A soothing hand pets her and the silence disappears. Loud wailing comes from below and her eyes shoot open. Her daughter was finally crying, her hands in fists as they move around in the air.

“Praises,” She sobs again, this time tears of joy. Her child's eyes peel open and smiles as she grabs at her mother’s hair.

Morpheus smiles, a rare one, all teeth showing as he touches his daughter’s head gently. The three, now a family, return home to the Dreaming. There will be more to do, especially for Morpheus but for now, a small victory lies within the hope that is their daughter.

Extra:

“Well I’ll be baffled, bamboozled, and befuddled,” Phanes says, hands on his hip and his staff leaning against one of the walls of the basement.

He stares at his serpent covered in dried blood and dearly departed, lying alone on the cold basement floor.

“Look at how they massacred my boy!” He screams to no one in particular, arms out in disbelief.

He lets out a huff and crosses his arms. “I’ll let you borrow my snake, blah, blah, blah, take care of it like it’s your own, meh, meh, meh,” He mocks.

Phanes runs a hand across the top of the snake’s head and watches as the dried blood rehydrates and moves thickly back into the cuts. The gnashes done by the weapon stitch itself back close and the gold scales return to their original form.

The snake shrinks smaller and smaller until it is back to its original size. At which, it perks up and flicks a tongue out in thanks to its god.

“All right, let’s go,” Phanes says with a sigh as if this was a mundane chore. He extends out a hand for the serpent to slither up to.

“I am never making a deal with those two ever again, that was crazy.” He says to his snake.

The snake flicks its tongue again and rattles the scales on its back.

“Ohh, that’s nice that she made you an enclosure.” He responds, then remains silent as the snake says something else. “What do you mean she forgot to put mice in the enclosure for you to eat?!”

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus x reader smut #the sandman #the sandman x reader #dream of the endless #dream #dream x reader #dream x reader smut #angst with a happy ending #light angst #the sandman fanfic #morpheus x wife!reader #morpheus x wife reader #dream of the endless smut #dream of the endless x reader

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loveshotzz · 11 months

Text

bouncer!steve x fem!reader Steve’s night

🎵 I finally found someone that can make me laugh, hahaha you so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby. 🎵

summary: you’ve got a crush on the new bouncer at The Foxy Lounge. turns out he’s not very good at his job.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: 18+ 90’s AU// Steve is in his early 30’s, Your date gets drunk and says some night nice things, some mild violence (bar fights), possessive steve, fingering, smut (p in v) cream pie, ass eating (f! receiving), oral (f! receiving), dirty talk.

authors note: part two of Whatta Man (steve’s night) you don’t need to read eddie’s to read this one it’s just a little more fun if you do. i’ve seen other writers repost their work after it’s been flagged so here I am. I worked on this for months. please be kind.

The perks of moving into the apartment that presides above The Foxy Lounge were vast for a single girl like yourself, but the perks of becoming friends with the bartender that worked there seemed to make them endless.

Memorized orders and free drinks when he was feeling nice (which he almost always was), he wore the crown of wingman of the century with pride, Eddie always made sure you had a good time. It was days like today that were your favorite though, heading home from a shitty morning shift at work, you weren’t surprised when you tugged on the front door an hour before open and it wasn’t locked. The annoyed look on his face told you he wasn’t either. An irritated groan leaves his chest at the carelessness of the owner and your landlord before popping the caps off two beers with ease. The loud clink of metal to glass echoes in the empty bar, as he flips his bottle opener between his fingers like muscle memory stuffing it in his back pocket.

“He’s gonna get us robbed one day, and I’m just gonna take my favorite bottle for damages and let them have the rest at this point.” His smile shows the lack of truth behind his words when you sit in the stool in front of him.

“Lucky for the both of you, it’s always just me.” Winking when you take a swig, the bitter liquid and the company eases the bad day out of your bones almost instantly.

The beginnings of a relaxed sigh start to push past your lips when the jarring sound of his rings slapping against the wood of the bar to the tune of a drum roll has you tense right back up. You’re unable to stop the slam of your beer before deadpanning, “you know I hate when you do that-“

“My best buddy Steve starts tomorrow night, I finally got Rick to say yes.” Eddie’s excitement has him vibrating when he cuts you off to tell you the news of the latest Foxy Lounge employee. “You’re gonna have such a crush on him. I’m calling it now.” The smirk on his face and the arch of his brow dare you to challenge him as he leans forward into your space.

Rolling your eyes with a snort, you start picking at the white sticker wrapped around the bottle.

“As if you know my type, Munson.” You can’t control the twitch of your lips the second the words leave your mouth when you finally dare to meet his amused gaze.

Eddie knew your type better than anyone else. Watching the men and sometimes women you’d bring upstairs weekend after weekend. He had you pegged and the Cheshire smile on his face told you he knew it too.

“I can hear it now.” He changes the pitch of his voice so it sounds like a bad version of yours before he continues with an exaggerated batting of his lashes, “Oh Eddie, Steve is just so dreamy. Do you think he thinks I’m cute? Will you talk to him? Come on Eddie!”

“I do NOT talk like that, asshole!” Launching a handful of bar nuts at him, he raises his hands in mock surrender shaking out the few that got stuck in his hair with a booming laugh.

“I don’t think that's a nice way to treat the guy who not only didn’t kick you out but also gave you a free beer before we opened, sweetheart.” His dimpled grin and perfect smile almost has your stomach in butterflies.

“I basically live here, besides your boss is the one who left the door unlocked. Maybe it’s a good thing you’re upping your security around here,” you tease, gulping down the rest of the beer before sliding the empty bottle over.

“We’ll see about this Steve guy you won’t shut up about, who knows Eddie, maybe it’s you who’s got a crush.”

Sweeping up the mess you made behind his bar he smirks before wiggling his brows.

“Everyone’s got a crush on Steve, baby.”

The pink fluorescent lights of the Foxy Lounge sign that hangs outside your window paints your studio in a blush tinted glow. It bleeds through the sheer floor length curtains, softening its harshness in a way that you liked. The darkness outside always makes it shine brightest around this time, a constant fight with your overhead lamp before bed. Your eyes catch the glaring red numbers on your clear digital clock reading 8:45pm.

Shit. You’re late.

No Doubt’s I’m Just A Girl plays loud enough through your boom box speakers to drown out the murmurs of the bar downstairs that spill through the slight crack in your bedroom window. You finish the last touch ups to the bubble gum colored gloss that coats your lips, smacking them together loudly. You give yourself a sweet smile in the mirror before fluttering your lashes for good measure. The finishing touch.

Finally feeling ready enough to leave, you adjust the black velvet choker around your neck with lavender painted nails. They highlight the lime green tube top that wraps around your chest as you pull at your black maxi skirt that sits above your hips hugging your curves just right.

You give yourself one last once over while you slip on your clunky Steve Madden slides, telling yourself the whole time you didn’t get all done up for the new bouncer. Instead you tell yourself it’s because you want to get lucky with the guy that invited you to get last minute drinks conveniently at the bar you above.

Turning around to give your studio apartment the safety check, you shuffle over your baby blue carpet with loud clacks from your sandals to hurriedly straighten your pink comforter and snuff out your incense. Grabbing your bag, you rush out with a flip of the light switch, only getting two steps away before having to pop back in to grab your keys hanging by the door.

The platforms on your slides are heavy as you make your way down the staircase, the narrow hallway bouncing your steps off the walls despite the cushion of the ugly brown carpet. One hand on the banister and the other dragging along the wall for balance, you pick up your pace barreling towards the door. Pushing it open with more force than normal, you hit something on the other side, hard.

An oof and the sound of plastic skidding across the sidewalk is followed by the crash of a stool that must’ve belonged to whoever was sitting on it. Stepping onto the pavement with a clack from your sandals, you stop in your tracks when you see his broad shoulders first. Bent over, you watch him collect what looks like an orange Tamagotchi, stuffing it quickly in his back pocket before brushing the dust off his dark denim clad thighs. The way he fills his jeans has your mouth dry up and his muscles flex under the black cotton shirt that wraps tight around his torso, the seams barely containing what’s underneath. Turning around he runs a big hand through his honey colored locks that stop just below his ears, pushing the fly aways from his face while the shine of the street lamp highlights his cheekbones and sharp jaw.

God you hated when Eddie was right.

Hazel eyes rake over your form while yours follow the freckles that run along his neck that lead to small moles placed like a cluster of stars along his jaw. His chiseled nose runs down a narrow line with lips tinged pink like his cheeks. The expression on his face going from irritated to flirty in a matter of seconds flat, the whites of his teeth showing when he gives you an easy smile.

“I’m - oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m running late and no one is ever sitting there and I - Are you okay?” Talking a mile a minute, you hate that he has your nerves getting the best of you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Raising his hands up to stop you, the press of your thighs is instant when you see the silver band wrapped around the thickness of his middle finger. “No apologies necessary, it was an accident, honey.”

The endearment leaves his mouth while his lips turn his smile crooked, and it makes you dizzy. Bending down to grab the stool off the ground, a matching chain slips out from under his shirt and the glow above gives you a glimpse at the patch of thick chest hair hidden from sight.

“Besides, it’s not the first time a pretty girl has knocked me on my ass.” Folding his arms across his pecs, he leans against the brick of the bar crossing his legs at the ankles. The black boots that cover his feet look big and menacing despite his disposition.

Biting your bottom lip into a smile, you look up at him through shy lashes and you swear you hear him sigh at the sight.

“Well as long as you’re okay-“

“Steve,” he offers his name with a flash of his teeth again, a spark lighting in his eyes when he sees the way you react to it.

“Well you’ll probably see my face around here a lot,” you say, doing your best to ignore the way your cheeks burn.

“I sure hope so.” Pulling a toothpick out of his back pocket, he slides it between his lips. Jaw clenching when he bites down on the wood while his eyes roam your curves again before offering you another grin.

It makes you do one thing a man has never made you genuinely do. You giggle. Tucking your hair behind your ear, you hardly recognize yourself anymore.

“I was gonna say, 'cause I live upstairs.” Your voice is sweet despite the roll of your eyes, his jaw clenches against the wood. He liked that.

He only breaks his stare to follow the path of your finger, his eyes lingering on your open window for a second before bringing all his attention back on you. The tension grows even thicker when he kicks off the wall, realization hitting him. The soles of his boots are loud against the pavement when he closes the distance between you with two long strides. Getting close enough to smell the cinnamon on his breath, and the expensive cologne that lingers on his bronzed skin, you forget all about your date waiting for you inside.

“Eddie’s told me all about you.” Using the tip of his tongue, he pushes the toothpick to the other side of his mouth, his smirk telling you all you need to know.

“That’s funny, Eddie’s told me about you too,” you lick your lips, tasting the fruit of your gloss as you look up at him from under hooded shimmering lids, “Steve.”

He inches just a little closer to teeter on the edge of what’s appropriate before responding, “Oh yeah? Did you like what you heard baby?”

His smile is as sinful as it is blinding. A darkened gaze locked on yours as he pulls the tooth pick out his mouth letting the sharp end snag his bottom lip before stuffing it in his back pocket again.

The electricity in the air sparks and fizzes, standing close enough to see the freckles that line his nose and the specks of glitter smattered in a similar pattern on your cheeks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Raising an eyebrow, your response has him sucking his teeth before rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek accepting your answer with a nod of his head.

Pulling out a small red flashlight with a soft click of the button at the end, white light floods the dark. The beam roams over the expanse of your body with a purposeful path before stopping at his outstretched hand.

“I.D.?” Amusement evident in his voice, he wiggles his fingers at you keeping up with his charade. The motion daring to make a mess of your underwear.

You try to cover up your laugh with a fake scoff, making it come out loud enough for him to snort. Your lips twitch as you try to fight the losing battle with the smile threatening to break across your face.

“What? I need to be careful here sweetheart. It’s my first night, I gotta make sure you’re really who you say you are, and not just some pretty girl trying to flirt her way inside.” He keeps the perfect poker face while he tuts at you to hurry up for the invisible line behind you.

“Would it have worked?” you ask handing him your driver’s license, wincing internally at the picture he is about to see.

Brushing his fingers against yours when he takes it for closer examination, he huffs out a laugh before looking down at you with a smug grin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He winks like an expert before making a big show of bringing your ID close to his face like it might be a fake.

Tsking to himself as he reads it over, he peeks over at you with a sly smirk. “A whole year older than me. Good for you, I like older women.”

Closing the space that developed when you had to dig in your purse, you snatch the plastic out of his hand, relishing in the way his breath hitches because of it. “I’m shocked you can read Steve, Eddie’s taste can be a bit…shoddy.”

“I think I’m pretty good at it actually, I’m good at reading a lot of things.” Ignoring your jab he’s quick to regain his confidence. “Things like, I don’t know, body language.” The spice of the cinnamon returns when he pulls out his toothpick again. He flashes you his pearly whites when he bites down, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a silent dare to prove him wrong.

Like magnets finding each other, the toes of his boots brush against your sandals. When did he get this close again?

Mariah Carey’s Fantasy cuts off any witty response that sits on the tip of your tongue as the bar door creaks open, rudely snapping you both back to reality. A boy who looks barely above the legal age is the culprit for popping your bubble, stopping dead in his tracks when the flirting bouncer’s attention redirects itself to where it should be. You already miss it.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up, punk.” Grabbing the kid by the collar of his shirt, he mutters a ‘shit’ under his breath.

You take a step back, your eyes meeting Eddie's from inside, the commotion catching his and a few other patrons' stares, including your date.

Oh yeah, you had a date.

“I’m gonna need to see some I.D.” Steve’s voice drops deeper after he clears his throat, if his tamagotchi didn’t beep right after, signaling it’s need to be fed it would’ve been more intimidating. Your own digital pet buried at the bottom of your bag probably doing the same, already reborn fresh this morning from forgetting it at home while at work the night before.

“Umm, you see, I left my wallet at home,” the kid starts to stammer, the metal of his braces showing when he gives the bouncer a nervous grin.

Almost forgetting he had an audience, Steve’s eyes meet yours, softening before that million dollar smile takes over his handsome face.

“You’re free to go in. You know where to come when you wanna talk about all those things you liked hearing about me.”

Your stomach flutters despite the roll of your eyes at his words and you're reminded crossing the threshold that you’re here to meet another man, already scolding yourself for not taking Eddie’s warning seriously.

“I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you, Steve?” You linger in the door frame, looking at him from over your shoulder, and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“You already know the answer to that, gorgeous.” His toothpick switches sides again before finally going back to doing his job, tugging the kid closer.

“I.D. or no entry dick head.”

Despite there being no line outside, the bar was pretty full. The low buzz of conversation before the drinks really start to hit filling the crowded space. Mariah finishes her last high note when your eyes connect with Eddie’s before meeting Devin’s. He’s dressed like Danny Tanner and it makes you cringe. Pushing up his wire frame glasses, he waves so eagerly the Salmon’s that cover his dress shirt look like they're swimming in the background rapids with the movements of his arm. He’s completely oblivious to Eddie mocking him behind his back, mouthing ‘DORK’ with a shit eating grin before finally attending to the girl with smeared makeup that had been desperately trying to get his attention from the other end of the bar.

You take a deep breath, readjusting the strap of your bag before you push your chin up making your way over. Determined to have a good time, you put on your best face, returning his wave with forced enthusiasm while Steve’s smile etches itself into your memory permanently.

Paula Abdul’s Vibeology starts pumping through the speakers around you, the sticky floor vibrating with the bass under your sandals as you sway your hips to the beat. He stands up when you approach his spot at the bar and you notice his button up is tucked into mustard colored corduroy slacks, and it makes you miss the tight fitting denim of the man outside even more. Shaking your head to try and get rid of all the thoughts swirling in your head about the guy you weren’t on a date with, you desperately try to match Devin’s excited energy when he opens his arms for a hug.

“I was starting to get worried you were standing me up.” He laughs nervously as you tuck yourself into his chest. Your eyes peek over his shoulder meeting Eddie’s again as he slides your favorite drink over (tequila and pineapple), and god you wish you hadn’t.

Wiggling his eyebrows, you flip him the bird behind Devin’s back watching the bartender pretend to catch it and put it in his pocket making your eyes hit the back of your skull.

“No, sorry, I just lost track of the time.” Not a total lie you leave out the fact that you forgot about him completely just a few minutes ago. Pulling away, you avoid his eyes, too scared they’ll give you away.

“All is forgiven, pretty lady.” He bows slightly, and you have to ignore the way Eddie snorts as he walks past with hands full of Miller Lite.

“You’re so sweet,” cringing at how fake your voice comes out but Devin doesn’t seem to notice as you both take your seats, knees barely touching between the space of the stools.

“Thanks for agreeing to drinks tonight, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. Just didn’t know, w-with office etiquette a-and all,” stuttering, his nerves get the best of him. He tries to hide it behind a sip of his beer.

“No, I’m, I’m glad you did,”you lie, your eyes flicking to the door one more time before grabbing your drink. An awkward silence settles between the two of you as you press your lips to the rim to slurp at the top to prevent any spill over.

God, you already want this to be over.

The conversation does get easier after your first drink, the flirting a little less forced as your hand finds its way to squeeze his thigh when you laugh at something he says that’s only half funny. Choking on the foam from his beer from your sudden touch, he wipes his mouth bashful from his outburst. Eddie murmurs a “go easy on him tiger” when he gets you a refill, earning him your bratty tongue.

“So you transferred here last year from Portland, right Devin? What’s it like over there?” Resting your chin on your knuckles, you look up at him from under your lashes enjoying the way it makes his breath catch.

“It was- It was a lot different from here…”

Finally on your A game, you try not to pay attention when the front door opens behind your date. It’s to no avail when you catch his figure in your peripheral and you can’t fight it anymore. All the progress you’ve made going out the window when Steve makes his first reappearance since your arrival.

Toothpick replaced with what looked like Big Red chewing gum, his hazel eyes scan the crowd before landing on you. The smirk that you’d been trying to forget tugs at the corners of his lips, and any luck that Devin might have had with you tonight disappears like that.

The bouncer looks pointedly at the man beside you, sizing him up, smile stretching wider when he assesses his threat. Leaning against the wall, he crosses his arms across his chest so the sleeves of his shirt look like they are being pushed to their limits as the muscles in his biceps flex. Hips pushed out in a way that’s daring you to look below his waist, he throws you a wink with a snap of his gum.

“...So yeah, that’s the long and short , it,” Devin finishes with a proud smile and you just nod, not catching a single word he said.

Steve’s stare is relentless, and your body responds to it without you having to even meet his gaze. His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, jaw clenching with every hard chew of his gum. Pushing himself off the wall, he starts a slow walk towards you. Big heavy steps bring him closer, every thud of his boots making your thighs clench, as you try desperately to stay concentrated.

Your date’s in the middle of another story that sounds like white noise, your lack of attention making him a babbling mess. He doesn’t notice the way Steve stops next to him first, giving him a once over from up close to make sure he wasn’t missing something from afar before coming up to you with the kind of smile that’s dripping with trouble.

“....So the logistics of it are kinda crazy when you think-“

“Just checking on my pretty new friend over here,” Steve cuts Devin off, not interested in anything but you. His large hand finds the small of your back, his palm almost big enough to cover the exposed skin between your skirt and top. It sends a shiver up your spine that the pad of his thumb soothes when it rubs circles over your sprouting goosebumps. “Having a good night, baby?”

The pet name falls so smoothly off his tongue that it takes Devin a minute to realize that it even left Steve’s mouth, a scowl souring his face when he sees the way your eyes glaze over looking up at the bouncer.

“Yeah, I’m having a real nice time Steve.” Sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, he notices the subtle way you lean into his touch. Your body needy for more.

“You better be.” He winks, letting the blunt ends of his nails scratch along your back before adding salt to Devin’s wound, “And you know where to find me if that changes.”

There’s a knowing smirk that plays on the edges of his mouth, biting his lip he finally tears his eyes away from you to give a head nod to the date you’d forgotten about for the second time tonight. Steve tosses him a wink too, a gesture that makes Devin’s jaw clench. Steve opens his mouth to say something that was sure to piss him off more, but he’s cut off by the sound of Eddie’s rings slamming hard on the bar behind you.

“Dude! What the fuck are you doing inside? Do you know how many people have walked in without getting checked? It's PEAK hours!” The bartender's eyes are frantic, fingers running through his curls as he yells at his friend. “Quit flirting and go do your job. Also, is that a fucking kid man?”

Eddie points to the boy that the bouncer stopped earlier who was snooping around abandoned tables in search for leftovers he was definitely not of legal age for, Steve’s cheeks tint the color of your lipgloss when he looks at you with sheepish eyes. The confidence he was dripping with disappears into embarrassment while doing his best to ignore the smug look on your date’s face.

“Calm down man, it was three minutes! I’ll get rid of the fuckin’ kid. Again.” He rubs the back of his neck as he walks away, stalking towards the boy who looks like he’s seen a ghost. “Hey asshole! You must’ve grown eight years in twenty minutes for me to be seeing you here!”

The boy raises his hands up in surrender slowly backing away, giving Steve an opportunity to turn around to toss you one last smile and wiggle his fingers at Devin before focusing on the high schooler who is already halfway out the door. The kid's walk turns into a run when Steve cracks his knuckles for show, following him out with long strides, disappearing back outside and out of sight.

You’re left with awkward silence between you and your date as Eddie stomps away muttering under his breath. Devin clears his throat, twirling his beer, the glass against the wood making a sound that starts to grate on your nerves. He’s daring you to look at him. The huff he exhales afterwards begs you to look. Your mind races with ideas of how to get out of this and when you dare to finally take a peek, he’s looking forward, emptying the last of his bottle.

“I’m gonna go smoke a cigarette!” You blurt out, grabbing your bag and leaving no time for a response. Your sandals clack as you power walk to the door. To Steve.

The summer night is sticky on your face when you step out of the bar, the sound of a girl’s sniffled “You’re right Steve” directing your stare to the bouncer you were looking for. Sitting on the very stool you knocked him off of, his big boots sit on the lowest footrest with his knees spread wide. Inviting. His eyes connect with yours, widening a bit when you smirk at him while getting yourself comfortable on the brick wall on the opposite side of the door. Digging your cigarettes out of your purse, you notice the girl next to him has mascara running down her cheeks that she only makes worse when she wipes them with the back of her hand.

“You know Maryanne, it sounds like this isn’t the first time he’s done this to you. I think it’s time to kick him to the curb. You deserve better.” He speaks to her like they’ve been friends their whole lives and you have no idea how he’s learned so much about her in the few minutes he’s been outside. Crossing his arms as he leans back enough for the legs of the stool to pull up, he catches himself with his shoulders against the wall behind him.

“He sounds like a chump if you ask me,”you chime in, lighting your cigarette. Steve’s smile shines under the pink luminescent sign above him when he hears your voice. The wooden legs of his stool smacking loud against the cement when he pushes off the wall.

She’s startled by your sudden appearance, not noticing when you came out - too lost in her own world. She gives you a weak smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes before she nods, tugging at her high pony and somehow making it higher. The sequined scrunchy in her hair catches the street light as she tries hyping herself up to return to whoever was making her cry inside.

“He is a chump, but most men are.” She sighs, her shoulders relaxing a little more as she calms down.

“You’ve got this honey, tell him to fuck off and go home with Lisa if that’s what he wants so bad,” Steve champions, patting her on the back, a new layer to Maryanne’s story being revealed. His eyes flick back to you as you take a drag, the mossy green going dark when he watches your cheeks hollow.

“Thanks for listening Steve, I’m gonna go back in now.” She wipes her nose one more time, before giving you a polite head nod.

“Have Eddie make you something sweet, and tell him it’s on me.” The bouncer winks, giving her the boost of confidence she needs before opening the door you just came out of. Monifah’s Touch It adds to the tension between Steve and you when it leaks out of the bar as she disappears inside. The bass thumps against the brick, leaving the song just muffled enough to be background noise when it closes behind her.

The air is heavier, thicker with something you both know is there. Playing hard to get, you don’t meet his gaze, despite feeling it over every curve and dip of your body. Inhaling another hit of nicotine, you lift your head up to exhale the smoke into the dark sky, extending your neck for him to see before you finally give in and chance a glance in his direction.

He looks far too handsome, smiling wide when you meet his eyes, all his perfectly white teeth baring themselves at you in a way that makes your legs shake.

“Missed me already baby?” His feet hit the sidewalk, his man spread somehow bigger this way as he scoots closer to the edge of the stool.

“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” You grin, successfully dodging the answer he already knows as your head hits the side of the building. Tilting your chin in his direction with your lip tucked between your teeth, you catch his narrowed glare.

“Nice try sweetheart, I used to watch Road House, religiously. I learned from the best. I’m just distracted,” the buttery smoothness of his voice returns, the last of his sentence coming out in a purr.

“Distracted?” You quirk a brow, not giving into him just yet.

“Yes, very much so and I regret to inform you that it’s all your fault too.” He sticks his bottom lip out at you in a pout, earning the giggle he’d been trying to get again since he first heard it, even if it's accompanied by your pretty eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“I’m on a date, Steve.” Even though you know it’s a weak comeback at this point, you still give it and he doesn’t miss a beat.

“Where? I don’t see him.”

Your cheeks heat up at his observation so you take another drag of your half smoked cigarette to try and hide the way he’s affecting you.

“I’m supposed to be quittin’, but you’re makin’ it look too good, pretty girl. Let me have a puff?” His question is an invitation, making the first move to call your bluff, to get you closer.

“Is that why you seem to have a cinnamon addiction?” you tease, not surprised when you kick off the wall accepting it with a smirk and an exaggerated sway of your hips.

He licks his lips while his eyes roam the length of your body unashamed, one large hand raking through his hair when you stop close enough to smell the topic of discussion on his breath.

“Could be addicted to worse,” he murmurs, not sure where to look having you between his legs like this.

“It’s a Newport, S‘that okay, Steve?” you ask him from underneath flirting lashes. His breath hitching before a sly smirk spreads across his pink lips.

“More than okay baby.” He leans closer, fingers wrapping around the plush curve of your hip to anchor you in place.

Tipping up on your toes, your hand comes down on his thigh making the muscle flex against your palm, your touch sending shocks through the rough denim while the other holds the gloss stained end up to his mouth.

Steve holds your stare when his lips wrap around where yours just were. His nails dig half crescent moons into your exposed skin as his cheeks hollow out. You can feel your heartbeat between your legs, your brows meeting in the middle when he tugs you even closer before tilting his head up. The thick expanse of his neck on full display as he blows out his drag, adam's apple bobbing in the light making the moles dance across his skin.

“The strawberry really sets it off.” He grins as his hand dares to slide down the top curve of your ass, making it his new home when you make no moves to get away from him.

“Thanks, it’s my favorite gloss.” You shrug, pretending to unphased by his teasing, but the mess in your panties would give you away if he could see.

“Maybe I could get a better taste,” his words are bold, but his free hand is bolder. Soft fingertips play with the top hem of your skirt, daring to dip under the fabric every once and awhile and he swears he hears you whimper.

“You want more?” Your voice comes out small, dripping in honey just for him. You know what he really wants, but he’s not gonna get it yet.

“God, if you’ll let me honey.” There’s a light squeeze on the dough of your ass, and it makes you flutter around nothing.

You lean in slowly, your hand moving further up his thigh watching the way his chest starts to rise and fall from it. Stretching the cotton of his shirt with every breath. The fingers that had been exploring the top of your skirt start a path up to the bottom of your top. A low hum coming from under his breath when the sweetness of your body lotion hits his nose.

His eyes shut when your faces get close enough that he feels like he can taste the strawberry that he wants so bad. He doesn’t notice when you pull back at the last second to replace your kiss with another puff until your cigarette shoves past his puckered lips.

When he opens them, he’s met with your giggles, a sound he wants on a loop. He pretends to glare, still taking the hit you were offering him, exhaling it through his nose like an angry bull. He opens his mouth to chastise you but the beeping of his digital pet interrupts his intimidating moment again.

“Gotta get that?” Your lips twitch while you try to contain your laugh, flicking the cigarette onto the street.

“Listen, my best friend got it for me. I thought it was incredibly stupid, and I definitely told her it was too.” The hand on your waist leaves to dig his Tamagotchi out of his front pocket. “But now I’m attached to the little guy.”

The key chain sized toy lights up in his hand, as he starts to feed it with a press of a button.

“Mine died yesterday,” you admit and the laugh you’d been fighting off echoes loudly when he looks up at you horrified.

“What? Do you have it with you now?”he questions as the small happy tune plays signaling that his pet is fully satisfied.

“She’s somewhere in my bag, don’t worry she was reborn this morning,” your words don’t reassure him considering they seem to need food every thirty minutes and you haven’t pulled it out once since he’s met you.

“Sounds like you want her to die again to me.” Steve’s very real concern about your Tamagotchi has you smirking.

“They die so easily, you’re telling me yours hasn’t died?”

Your jaw drops when he shakes his head ‘no’, a smugness taking over his handsome features.

“Steve, that’s like really hard to do.” You don’t know whether you should be impressed or roast him but when his hand grips at your ass one more time you decide it’s the first.

“Better give her to me for the night baby, I’ll keep her nice and healthy for my favorite girl.” Stuffing his back into his pocket, he holds his palm open for you in a vow to keep your digital pet alive and an excuse to see you later.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you obey his wishes. Digging to the bottom of your bag till you find your purple one. The screen already going off, and the muffled beeping that signaled the need for it to be fed finally becomes loud enough to hear.

“See! I told you. On the cusp of death already.”

You drop it in his hand, right as an older trucker comes barreling out of the bar reminding you where you’re at and that Devin is still waiting inside. Again.

“Fuck, I should go back in.” You sigh as your fingers play with the seam on the leg of his jeans.

“Go back in and tell that guy to get lost,” the bouncer almost whines, his grip on your hip tightening before he lets you go.

“Steve,” you huff but the smile on your face gives him hope.

“Just saying sweetheart, could be fun.” He shrugs, putting on an air of nonchalance while your Tamagotchi dangles from his thumb.

You both know who you really want to go home with tonight.

The bubble you and Steve are in pops as soon as you get back inside The sound of the distant cars on the freeway and Steve’s voice is replaced with Return of the Mack and the crowd that was at a simmer when you first got here is now at a full boil.

You have to get rid of Devin.

He’s right where you left him, hunched over and twirling his beer bottle on top of the bar. You notice the three empty shot glasses before you see Eddie dropping off another one while giving you the kind of eyes that say ‘Come take care of your date’ as he walks away. Taking a deep breath, you make your way towards him going over all the ways you can let him down easy while your nerves drown out the little bit of guilt you had for ditching him.

“Heeeey,” your voice is high pitched, awkwardness dripping from its tone when you finally return to your stool next to him.

Crickets.

You freeze - he’s ignoring you. How can you get rid of him if he’s ignoring you? Your eyes shift around the bar nervously, offering an awkward tight lipped smile when anyone meets your stare. You search for Eddie again, hoping to silently ask for help but his back is to you, clearly putting the moves on a girl at the other end.

“Devin.”

You hope that saying his name will elicit the desired response but that dwindles quickly when he chugs the rest of his beer, continuing his charade and keeping his gaze forward before slamming the empty bottle down.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” he grumbles, irritation laced in every word before he pushes off the stool still not meeting your eyes.

You wait till he’s out of earshot before you let out a groan, your long disappearance clearly pissed him off. Propping yourself up by your elbows on the sticky bar, you close your eyes, rubbing your temples while you try to think of the right way to go about this. Eddie’s knowing chuckle is the last thing you want to hear but that’s just how the night is going now.

“You pretty little scoundrel!” He slaps the spot in front of you forcing your eyes open, his smile only widening when you glare at him.

“He’s so pissed and now thanks to you,” gesturing towards the empty shot glasses Eddie gets rid of with quick hands, you avoid the real reason, “He’s gonna be trashed!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa sweetheart. I’m not the one who can’t keep their hands off Stevie boy. And on a date too? Tsk tsk tsk.” He crosses his arms with a shake of his head, “Now you broke poor Derek’s -“

“Devin.”

“Whatever - fish guy’s heart. Aren’t you in a little predicament hmm?” Eddie hums the last part, but you can see the excited glint in his eyes. He loves watching your escapades.

“Listen,” you can’t help the giggle that bubbles past your strawberry lips under his knowing gaze, “When you told me he was hot Eddie, you didn’t tell me he was that hot.”

Smirking, you enjoy watching the way his face contorts knowing that was a damn lie.

“Are you kidding?” He throws his hands in the air, giving you the reaction you were baiting him for, “It was the first thing I told you.”

You laugh loudly at his exasperation with your antics, almost forgetting about Devin entirely for the third time tonight.

“Have fun figuring out this little love triangle you’ve created, I need to get to the rest of the paying customers so I can get back to that hottie at the end of the bar.” He points to the girl he was talking to earlier who’s sipping a drink she looks surprised to even like.

“I bet you aren’t charging her for anything are you?” You narrow your eyes playfully, cackling when he rolls his waving you off as he walks away.

Sliding off the stool, you tug up your tube top, ready to give it to Devin straight, more than eager to get back outside again.

“I knew the guys in the office said you were easy, but I didn’t think you’d be spreading your legs for anything that walked on our date.” Devin’s voice comes as a surprise, but the tight grip on your arm pulling you to him is an even bigger one.

Searing rage fills every part of your body at the fact that he put his hands on you, palms flat on his chest, you use all your strength to shove him away. Shock paints his features, not expecting you to fight back so aggressively. All the drinks he’s had make him stumble back, losing his footing almost falling into the couple next to him.

“Well I’m sure as shit not spreading them for you!” you spit, looking him up and down with disgust before putting a finger in his face, “And your shirt? It’s fucking ugly.”

You give him one last once over before shaking your head and walking away. Heading back towards the entrance, you notice Steve inside again. A hard glare is set on his face, nostrils flaring as he zeros in on Devin behind you who’s still trying to regain his balance.

God, it’s the hottest he’s looked all night.

Steve’s hazel eyes meet yours and they instantly soften when you can’t help but smile as he opens the door for you.

“Thanks Stevie,” using Eddie’s nickname, you run your hands across his chest when you walk by, just to add salt to Devin’s wound.

The flush that paints his cheeks tells you how much he likes it.

“When I told you to ditch your date, I didn’t mean to fist fight him, honey,” he teases, following you outside, letting the chipped red door shut behind you and muffling the sounds of the bar again.

“He got mad about my little disappearance before I could let him down easy.” Turning around, you bite your bottom lip to try to hide your growing smile.

“Poor guy.” Steve grins before taking the two steps to close the gap, to crowd your space. Cinnamon fanning across your face, “Never stood a chance.”

It’s harder for you to breathe when he looks at you like he wants to kiss you, but before you can respond, the door flies open.A drunk Devin stumbling out with a glare breaking you two apart.

“Of course, of FUCKING course. Not even two seconds later? You really are a slut, huh?” Devin seethes, stumbling out onto the sidewalk.

“I’m really going to need you to watch your mouth champ. No need to call girls names. You’re a big boy.” Steve’s tone is condescending as he squares up, making sure you’re behind him.

“You think you’re so fucking cool,” Devin scoffs before hiccuping, “Careful with this one, she’s probably sucked your buddy’s dick inside too.”

“Yeah, that’s enough, asshole. Go home, before I have to beat some respect into that ugly skull of yours.” Steve cracks his knuckles again, but it doesn’t have the same effect as before, Devin only raising his eyebrows at the bouncer.

“Respect? That’s funny. The whore behind you hasn’t heard of it.”

Steve loses his cool and like a flash he’s on him. Pulling his fist back Steve moves just a little too slow and Devin clocks him right in the jaw. The sound of bone against bone echoes loudly into the night. Stumbling back, Steve cradles where an ugly bruise will start forming in the morning, rubbing it out. He cracks his neck before barreling towards Devin, taking him down to the ground like a football player.

In a flurry of fists and cuss words, Devin somehow gets Steve pinned. The alcohol and anger flowing through his system turns him into The Hulk. Your screams for them to stop fall on deaf ears while they continue to roll around on the ground. Panic sets in when you realize neither man is going to stop. Doing the only thing you know how to do in these situations, you get Eddie.

Frantic, you open the door, ignoring the fact that Third Eye Blind is playing at the exact worst time, you scream Eddie’s name loud enough to silence the bar.

“Eddie! It’s bad. Steve needs you!”

He looks up from a clearly flirtatious conversation with the girl from before, both of their eyes landing on you as you get your friends attention. He grumbles, grabbing her hands saying something to her that makes her nod bashfully before jumping over the bar top. Jogging out the front, he towers easily over the two men, neither one of you bothering to check the red heads I.D. that walks in after you.

“The first fucking night man!” Eddie yells at Steve, grabbing Devin by the back of his shirt pulling him off the bouncer with ease, but not before Steve gets one more cheap shot in.

He wrestles against Eddie’s grip for a second before finally giving up with a hiccup, hocking a loogie in Steve’s direction.

“You done?” The bartender's face is unamused, as he waits for Devin to nod. “I never wanna see you or your shitty ass style at my bar again. Beat it bozo before I give you a matching black eye to go with the one Steve gave you.”

Two against one is too much for Devin to take on, so he raises his hands up in surrender when Eddie lets him go. Rolling his tongue against his cheek he shoots you one last glare before turning on his heel. Flipping everyone off as he starts down the sidewalk. Steve returns the gesture, spitting at his retreating form.

“You good?” Eddie asks, extending his hand for his friend to take.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Just hate that guy.” Steve mumbles, looking everywhere but at you while he straightens his shirt and dusts off his jeans with bloody knuckles.

“Your hand dude, I can’t have you bleeding all over people I.D’s. and I know Rick doesn’t have a first aid kit. At least I’ve never seen one.” Eddie rubs the back of his neck, stress coming in the form of knitted brows.

“I’ve got one,” you mumble, finally finding your voice and the bartender claps, wiping his hands clean of the situation.

“There, go play nurse with lover boy and get out of my hair tonight. I’m like this close,” he pinches two fingers together to show “to scoring and you both have been fucking it up every chance you can get. I swear to god.”

Eddie waves you off as he makes his way back in, and you can feel the shift in energy between you and the bouncer you’ve been wanting all night.

Steve’s quiet the whole walk up the stairs to your apartment, fuming with anger and embarrassment, the confidence from before gone while the bruise on his jaw deepens and he cradles his bleeding knuckles.

“This is me,” you break the silence cringing, your voice amplified in the walls of the narrow hallway while you dig out your key.

“Thanks for this, angel,” his words come out in just above a whisper but at least it’s something.

The endearment has a smile creeping across your face and you finally dare to turn around to get a look at him after you hear the click of your lock. You press your back against your open door, it’s your turn to extend an invitation.

“Anytime Stevie.”

His face softens the minute he lays his eyes on you again, jealous of the way you bite your bottom lip sweetly, he wishes it was him.

You let Steve into your world one heavy boot at a time, locking the door behind you. Watching the way his dimmed eyes brighten, curiosity winning over any leftover irritation. The ghost of a smirk twitches at the corners of his lips while he walks the small space of your studio taking everything in. The neon sign outside your window is the only light that illuminates it, shadows dancing off trinkets on shelves and pictures on walls, he was getting a glimpse of you.

He stops in the middle of your room, right at the edge of your bed. The dark denim and leather that cover him are a stark contrast against your baby blue rug, but you think he looks like he belongs here. You watch the way he takes in your hastily made bed, licking his lips when he sees a pair of panties that didn’t quite make it in the laundry basket in the corner. The radio you’d forgotten to turn off plays a commercial, filling the space between you, and you aren’t prepared for when he puts his full attention back on you again after not having it for the past twenty minutes. Your body responds immediately to the playful glint in his eye.

“Cute place, for a cute girl.” He grins, running his good hand through his hair before he walks over to the window to take a look at your view.

“I bet you say that to all of em’,” you tease because it’s easier to do with his back to you. Making your way to the bathroom, nerves burst like butterflies in your stomach.

“You’re the only one baby.”

His response is quick as he turns around, the flirting you’d grown accustomed to coming back like a raging storm. He watches your hips while you walk the short distance with a heavy stare that covers every part of you. Leaning against the door frame with your curves on full display, something shifts behind his eyes. Flipping the lightswitch, white beams break apart the pink, highlighting even more of you for him to drink in.

“Come on handsome, let’s get you patched up.”

His cheeks flush at the new nickname and it's his turn to bite his lip in a shy smile for you.

It doesn’t take more than a few steps for his long legs, the wood creaking under his weight. Pressing your back to the frame, he stops in front of you with one foot over the threshold and the other still in your room. He takes up so much space. His biceps flex when he reaches for your hip, tugging you even closer, you can smell the menthol still lingering on his breath. On instinct your palm hits his chest, muscles dancing under heated skin as you tilt your chin up to meet his eyes. Squeezing at your softness before he speaks, he lets his middle finger dip under the top of your skirt.

“I really meant it when I said thank you back there. Just need you to know that.” His finger dares to dip lower, rubbing circles that make your back arch, hips pushing forward on a search for his. The curve of your stomach touches the cool metal of his belt buckle and the heat of his body sets fire between your thighs.

“I know you did,” your voice is sweet for him, the tone you know he likes while your hand moves down the dip between his pecs, “Thank you for sticking up for me.”

You can feel the coarse hair that starts at the top of his belly button where your hand stops, and you swear you feel him twitch in his pants. A second one of his fingers finds its way under your skirt and another subtle tug gets you even closer. So close that all you’d have to do is stand on your tiptoes for your lips to touch.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” he breathes, spice and tobacco taking over. His adam’s apple bobs when he catches the way you start staring at his lips, the gloss on your own shimmering in the new light.

“Anything?” Quirking your brow with a smirk, your innuendo makes him moan and his hold on you tighten.

“Absolutely.” Ducking his head lower so his nose brushes against the bridge of yours, he dares you to make the first move.

“In that case…” Pressing your toes down to push yourself up, the playful glint in your eye goes unnoticed by him.

Your lips are a ghost, his top one barely brushing against your bottom, it's enough for him to taste the strawberry he wanted more of outside but not enough to satisfy. His eyes flutter closed waiting to feel their full plushness but your words bring him back to reality.

“Sit on the toilet for me.”

The specks of emerald shine again when his eyes snap open to see you flat on your feet with a grin. Groaning loudly with fake irritation, he lets go of you in exasperated defeat, letting his head fall back and hit the wood of the frame.

“What? We came up here for my first aid kit, didn't we?” You giggle after you say it, you don’t mean it.

“Sure, sure, yeah, yeah.” Nodding, he runs a hand through his hair while he looks around your bathroom.

It smells like your coconut body wash and it drives him crazy. He takes an unexpected step forward, his hand finding its way back to your hip to push you against the wall. One heavy boot between your wedged sandals, getting just close enough to kiss you. Is he going to?

It's your eyes that flutter closed this time, your fingers wrapping themselves around his belt loops again. He’s tentative with his injured hand when he uses it to cradle your jaw. His palm is soft as it covers half your neck, his thumb pushing up against your chin to tilt your face up to his. He runs the tip of his nose along your cheek and you feel your knees start to get weak, a whimper begging to fall from your parted lips.

“If that’s the only thing we’re here to do then we should get to it then, huh?”

Just as quick as he invades your space, he leaves it. The porcelain of your toilet seat cover clunks loudly when he drops himself on it. Spread out like on the stool outside, he takes over the room, leaving you to catch your breath with a smug grin.

It’s a staring contest with narrowed eyes after that, but the twitch of your lips tells him you aren’t actually mad. He snorts when you clear your throat to regain your composure, purposely ignoring the obvious when you bend over to open the cabinet under the sink, pulling out the bright red zip up bag.

“We need to wash your knuckles first, then I’ll put some ointment on them and wrap it up for you. We’ll keep it that way for the night and we can check on it in the morning.” The words leave your mouth before you can stop them and he catches the slip up instantly.

“Oh? You need to keep me overnight for observations?”

You bite your lip to try and hide your smile, grabbing a washcloth running it under hot water instead of looking at him.

“You know what I meant, I’ll come check on it tomorrow when you get to work.” You don’t even believe your lie, and the toothy smile you catch from the corner of your eye tells you he doesn’t either.

“But nurse, I don’t know. I think I should stay, I got hit in the face too. Concussions you know? I really shouldn’t be alone tonight.” He lays it on thick, eating up the way he sees you loving it spreading across your face when you ring out the soapy rag.

You don’t try to hide it when you finally face him, or when you settle between his legs for the second time tonight. The new position has him eye level with your chest, easier access to his lips. You hold your palm out for him, your hand disappearing completely when he drapes his wounded one over it.

“Concussion, huh? Are you feeling light headed Steve?” You play along giving your best impression of a medical professional.

He hisses when you press the damp cloth to his knuckles, sucking in air between his teeth when you start to clean. The soothing circles the pad of your thumb rubs on the side of his hand is almost enough to distract him from it.

“Yeah, but that started before I got hit.”

You finally dare to meet his gaze, a flattered smile spreading wide across your face that you try to play down with a roll of your eyes.

“Hmmm,” you hum to yourself, deciding not to give in just yet as you switch from the rag to the ointment, getting the bandaging and medical tape out.

“I mean, you’re the professional honey. You tell me.” You feel his good hand tug at the bottom of your skirt while you smear the neosporin on his knuckles with a q-tip, his long fingers flexing at the cooling effect.

“It started before you got hit?” You question with a fake pensive expression, gently taking his palm in your hand to start the wrapping process.

“Yeah, you see, this girl hit me with a door earlier. Knocked me clean off my stool.” He makes the motion of him falling with a swipe of his hand, “ and I haven’t been the same since if I’m being completely honest.”

It takes everything inside you to not give him the satisfaction of a laugh, the way you met coming back to the forefront of your mind.

“Some would argue putting your stool in front of the door like that is kinda stupid, but that's just my professional opinion.” Your shrug earns a loud laugh from him and you relish in it, promising yourself you’ll get him to do it again.

“All done.” You let go of his hand and he already misses you holding it, but the proud look on your face is a good distraction while you admire your handy work.

He holds it up, and you still can’t get over just how big they are. Curling his fingers in before extending them, he only winces slightly from the pain. The pressure of the bandage already helping. He jumps slightly when the backs of your fingers smooth over the fresh bruise forming on his jaw, the stubble tickling your skin. His eyes watch yours as they rake over the damage, the softness of your touch almost enough to make his eyelids heavy when you stroke the sore spot again.

“What do you think, huh?” His question comes out quiet, the playful edge gone while both his hands find the back of your legs. Rough fingertips run up your calves, catching the bottom of your skirt as they go, “Are you gonna keep me baby?”

A shiver runs up your spine when he hits the back of your thighs and you feel yourself getting pulled closer. He drags his nose up the bare skin of your sternum while his hands grab doughy handfuls just below the curve of your ass. The sound of your moan when his fingers get high enough to just barely graze the soaked material between your weakening legs sends him into overdrive. Growling, he nips at the tops of one of your breasts.

“Come on, tell me, what’s it gonna be?” Despite trying to sound confident, there’s a desperation in the way he asks. He knows you want it but he needs you to say it.

It’s when his fingers slip under the lace trim of your panties that you finally give in with a gentle grab of his chin. His eyes are black when they meet yours, the ends of his nails digging into soft skin.

“Yeah, I’m gonna keep you.” You give into an urge you’ve had since you laid eyes on him, tangling your fingers in his hair as you spread yourself open for his hands to wander.

He doesn’t hold back anymore and you’re reminded of just how tall he actually is when he stands up. His actions are quick and with purpose, the strength you knew was behind those muscles showing itself when he lifts you onto the edge of the sink with your skirt rucked up to your hips. He man handles you in a way no one ever has and you feel it light a fire in your gut. Impatient for his next move, you grab the collar of his shirt while his hands spread wide over the tops of your thighs, your lips finally getting to do what they’ve wanted all night.

It’s soft at first, both of you moving slow as you figure out what the other likes, careful not to hurt his jaw. One of his hands finds its way back to your cheek, the pad of his thumb rubbing the length of the bone while his tongue begs you to open up. He traces the top of your lip, shuddering at the taste of the strawberry and it makes him wonder if your skin tastes like the coconut he smells.

You give him the access he wants, your tongues meeting in the middle, making the fire that had been begging to consume you pour out from your fingertips that bury themselves into the roots at the nape of his neck. You need more. The hard length that has been fighting against the denim of his jeans presses hard into where you want his attention, your legs wrap around him - silently begging him to do it again.

One arm snakes around your lower back, holding you flush against his chest, the grind of his hips giving you the friction that makes you keen. A moan and a breathless “fuck” is what breaks your lips apart when his zipper catches your swollen clit with just the right amount of pressure. He uses his new found freedom to kiss down the length of your jaw, humming against your heated skin when you tilt your head to give him better access to all the sensitive places he can’t wait to discover. He sucks the soft spot behind your ear when you meet the next roll of his hips, your slides falling loudly off your feet to the tile floor.

“Steve,” his name comes out in a high pitch whine when he starts sucking a bruise in a place you know you’ll have to try and cover up for the next few days. He was marking you, and you could care less. You hold him there, encouraging more as his teeth graze your pulse point, a “baby” slipping past his lips when he finally pulls away.

He meets your eyes with flushed cheeks and messy hair and the kind of hunger that makes you melt.

“Let me take you to bed, let me take care of you,” he’s panting, his hold on you tightening so you can feel just how bad he needs this. A smirk spreads across his swollen lips when your hips shift in search for more, giving him the answer he needs along with the nod of your head.

Just as easy as he lifted you on the sink, he carries you to the bed, big hands cradling thick thighs before he lays you on your back. Your giggle fills the space in between heavy pants before TLC’s Creep starts playing over the speakers of the radio. His hands find their way to the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his head and you watch an expanse of new freckles and moles get revealed to you. You want to kiss them all. They dot the spots next to the dark hair over his belly button while the thick thatch of chest hair you’d only gotten a glimpse of glistens with beads of sweat in the glow of the Foxy Lounge light.

His jeans hang low enough for you to get a glimpse of the veins protruding from the V shape that leads to the part of him that’s sure to make you forget your own name. His grin is cocky when he recognizes the expression on your face. Grabbing your ankle, he pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. The bottom of your foot resting on the soft hair of his chest while long fingers hold you in place. He keeps his eyes trained on yours while he starts to trail wet kisses down the inside of your leg. The stubble covering his jaw scratching along his path in the best way. He stops when he gets to the soft skin of your knee, nipping playfully, he smirks at the squeal it earns him before he drops your leg in favor of curling his fingers under the top of your skirt.

You lift your hips for him without him having to ask, and the flash of his teeth is almost enough to blind you. He’s slick with his movements, taking your panties too. You hear his breath catch in his throat when he sees the effects all his teasing has on you. His fingers grip at your thighs before pulling your sticky skin apart with a lick of his lips.

“Look at you baby, all this for me?” The last part of his question comes out in a groan when he swipes the pad of his thumb against your bundle of nerves, kicking up in his jeans when your legs shake in response. “So sensitive too. Let me make her feel good, yeah?”

He swipes his thumb against your clit again making your eyes shut tight and your hips buck.

“I need to hear you say it.” He keeps rubbing circles, applying just enough pressure for you to forget how to speak, “Come on, be a good girl for me.”

His other hand pulls down your tube top, breasts spilling out in the blush light for his eyes to devour. He groans at the sight, his other hand coming up to cup the soft flesh feeling the way your nipples pebble against the warmth of his palm.

“Steeeeve, please.”

You’re whining for him and it makes his brows pinch together, feeling drunk off you.

“God angel, you’re fuckin’ beautiful you know that?” He emphasizes his question with his hands, giving your sides a squeeze while his eyes roam every dip and curve of your body. “Turn around for me? I wanna see all of you.”

The look on his face makes you decide that you’ll never deny him anything he asks, giving him a nod, you run your hands up his arms, nails dragging across the light hair before you push yourself up to get on all fours.

You feel completely exposed to him like this, all the secret places of your body on full display. He’s quiet for a minute and it’s almost enough for your nerves to get the best of you until you feel his palm find the apple of your ass. Fingers digging into doughy flesh, a groan loud enough to drown out the music erupts deep from his chest.

“Baby, baby, babyyy,” he emphasizes the last endearment with another handful before pulling your cheeks apart to get a better look at your dripping cunt, “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”

Your hips wiggle at his words, your walls fluttering around nothing while the cool air from the overhead fan hits your heat, sending goosebumps dancing across your supple flesh. A dark chuckle leaves him when he sees how much power his words have over you. His knees hit the side of the mattress, one hand hooking around your hip while the other runs down the dip of your spine giving you a light push when he hits your shoulder blades until you're bent over for him.

“She likes when I talk to her, huh?” his voice is low, mesmerized when you start dripping on the bed for him and he’s barely touched you, “She likes when I call her pretty doesn’t she?”

The moan that leaves your mouth is pathetic and he wishes he could record it.

“Playing hard to get all night, but look at you.” His good hand comes down hard enough on your ass for the fat to jiggle and you to fist handfuls of your comforter because of it, “Making such a filthy mess and I haven’t even put my mouth on you yet.”

His grip is rough when he tugs your hips, the outline of his dick pressing into you, the denim scratching against your clit in a way that has your eyes rolling in the back of your head.

“Tell me how much you want my mouth baby, tell me how much you want me to make you cum.” He grinds against you again, only this time making sure to apply the kind of pressure that makes your back arch.

“Fuck - Steve, please I want it. I’ve wanted it all night. I’ve wanted it all night,” you're babbling as he circles his hips, fingers kneading your soft skin.

Satisfied with your answer he mumbles a “so good for me” as he pulls away he gives you another light slap to your ass - signaling for you to scoot up, your mattress dipping behind you when he gets on his knees.

Big hands spread you apart, your forehead hits the comforter when you feel the heat of his breath against your slick folds. Your walls flutter, begging for his attention when his tongue runs a long stripe up your slit. He hums at the taste before he does it again, this time making sure to circle your clit before lapping up everything you were drenching him with like he was thirsty for it.

“Oh my god,” you huff into your blankets, toes curling when he starts an assault against your bundle of nerves, the pointed tip of his nose pressing deeper into your entrance as he gets lost in the sounds he’s pulling from you.

His fingers stretch across the tiger stripes on your butt cheeks, pulling you even further apart to give him better access. The coil inside you already threatening to snap when he sucks hard on your clit. He lets it go with a loud pop, smirking to himself at the way he has your body shaking from overstimulation already.

“Taste so fuckin’ good. Strawberries, just like your lips.” He groans, inhaling your scent like a man starved, his good hand coming down on your cheek again only this time a little harder pulling out another broken moan from you.

“Can I taste all of you pretty girl?”

There’s zero hesitation when you say ‘yes’, in fact it’s a little desperate. He could have whatever he wanted from you now. Not even sure what he means, your brain’s too fuzzy with lust to comprehend anything until you feel the tip of his tongue circle a place you’d never let anyone else go before.

“Holy shit - Steve.” The new sensation sends another wave arousal to your dripping core, a needy whine following it when he does it again.

“This okay?” He kisses the curve underneath the apple of your cheek, the softness of his voice comforting you while he checks in.

“God, it’s, it’s -“ He gives you another kitten lick and it makes your eyes roll in the back of your head, “It’s more than okay - Jesus Christ.”

Too lost in the feeling of him testing the tightness of you with his tongue, you aren’t expecting his thick finger to start circling the entrance he’d been neglecting, the one you need him to fill the most. Your silk walls welcome the intrusion with ease, the stretch only stinging a little when he pushes to the last knuckle while his tongue starts getting a little more bold. Your back arches when he groans against you, curling his finger to hit the spot only you’d ever been able to find with ease. He adds a second digit when you start bucking against his face, the new addition almost makes you run away. He tsks at you from buried between your butt cheeks, one large hand locking you in place when he starts feeling you get close.

“Give it to me,” he demands, coming up for air. Fingertips relentless against the spot that has you squelching loudly.

His mouth returns to the sensitive part of you, tongue circling your tightness in a way that has you finally snapping. Your walls constrict, wrapping around his fingers while your vision goes white. Your body freezes, the orgasm overwhelming your muscles with a violent shake, his name falling from your lips like it’s the only word you know. You feel him grin against you, the movements of his fingers only slowing down but never stopping, milking every last drop you give him.

“So good, so pretty when you cum baby,” he mumbles praises, his lips kissing anywhere they can reach while your body comes down from its first high.

You feel his weight leave the mattress, hear the metal of his belt buckle clinking followed by the low thump of his jeans hitting the floor. You find enough strength to look over your shoulder and it’s enough to make you whimper. Steve’s big. Dark hair at the base, it’s thick and curved, the pretty pink tip leaking just for you. The long vein that runs up the side pulses when he gives it a couple of tugs before his knees hit the mattress again.

His hands spread over your hips pulling you closer before he starts trailing kisses up your back, the silver of his chain making you shiver as it runs up your spine till his lips stop right at your ear.

“You ready for me?”

Your eyes meet his and they’re pitch black, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, you know yours looks the same when you give him a nod but you know that’s not going to be enough for him.

“Come on, you know what I need,” his tone is mocking as he grabs his cock at the base, swiping his head through your folds, smirking at the way you try to suck him in, your body greedy for him.

“Please, please, please, please.”

All your self respect goes out the window when he pushes the tip in and you can’t stop repeating yourself. The stretch is already bigger than his two fingers and he wasn’t even half way in yet and for a brief moment you wonder if he’ll even fit.

“Fuck - baby.”

He moans as he pushes further, sheathing himself half way and he feels the way it makes your legs shake. His hand sneaks around your waist to find your clit, slippery fingers rubbing circles to get you to open up more as he rolls his hips one more time bottoming out. He groans so loud you’re sure anyone who might be smoking outside of the bar can hear him.

“Holy shiiiit, I’ve never had pussy like this.” He stills, adjusting to how tight you feel, and it’s his turn to babble as you constrict around him making him twitch - dangerously close to cumming already.

“You feel so good Stevie,” you whine as you push back against him, taking his length even deeper, feeling every curve and ridge of him against your walls.

He pulls out half way before slamming back in and it makes him curse under his breath before he does it again, only harder.

“God, fuck- this is all mine now, yeah?” he mutters, an angry edge to his words when he thinks about Devin getting to do this.

“Mmhmm,” your answer is automatic, no thoughts behind your eyes while his cock fills you in the way you fantasize about when you touch yourself.

“That’s right baby, it’s mine. You’re mine.”

His thrusts get aggressive as he gets closer to his release, your slick making it easy for him to slide almost completely out before pushing back in. The rough hair covering his pelvis rubbing your clit at the same time his tip reaches the same spot his fingers pulled your first orgasm from.

“Shit, Steve, right there.” Your jaw goes slack, eyes closing tight when he hits it again, your words spurring him on while he tries to re-grip his hold on your sweat-kissed skin.

“Yeah? you want more?” He makes sure to put all his attention where you want, slowing his hips just enough to hit it even harder. “I’ll give you more.”

Steve tilts his head to the side watching how you wrap around him, and the way he barely has to push back in, your greedy walls doing almost all the work when he finds the perfect pace that has you twisting the sheets.

He huffs out a cocky laugh and it makes you tighten in response, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.”Yeah, I know baby. I know. You gonna cum again for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you manage to get out with a nod but it’s not enough for him, he needs you loud enough for Devin to hear from across town.

The sound of skin slapping against skin drowns out the music, keeping his stamina up despite the twitch of his cock, he bends over, somehow getting deeper, the cool metal of his chain dragging across your back while one hand snakes under your waist. His fingers are unrelenting when they find their way to your puffy clit again, applying just enough pressure to get your legs to shake for him.

“I’m gonna ask again, are you gonna cum for me?” He keeps his voice even, but he knows he’s not gonna last much longer, especially not when your cheek hits the mattress and you meet his eyes looking like that.

“Yeah, god, yeah Steveee! Please, please, please.” You don’t even know what you’re begging for but it makes Steve’s resolve break.

The moan he lets out is loud enough to echo off your wall, warmth flooding your insides as he cums hard enough to collapse against your back. It’s enough to send you over the edge for the second time. Your walls fluttering enough to make his nails dig crescent moons into your hips with a low “fuck” escaping him as you milk him for more with the sweetest chant of his name he’s ever heard.

“That’s it baby.” He coos lips placing sloppy kisses along the your shoulder blades when you collapse against the mattress, your bodies tangled in a way you don’t have the energy to leave quite yet.

The radio cuts out leaving just the sound of the two of you trying to catch your breath, you can faintly hear ‘Pony’ playing from the bar below but the sound of a car driving past quickly snuffs it out. You feel his nose nudge against your ear, a slow lazy smile creeping across your face when his lips brush your temple.

“I don’t think you have a concussion, but you better stay the night just in case.”

His laugh vibrates against your back, a toothy grin pressed to your skin.

“It’s always better to be safe than sorry,” he agrees. The response you somehow managed to conjure up gets lost on your tongue when both your long forgotten Tamagotchi’s go off in his abandoned pants in a matching tune you’d never heard before.

“Our babies need daddy, honey,” he groans, slowly lifting himself up on his elbows.

You roll your eyes with a snort as he trails kisses down your back only wincing slightly when he pulls himself out. Folding your arms under your head, you still can’t bring yourself to move, but the view of him naked and still semi hard while he holds the two digital pets in his hand with a confused expression isn’t one you really can turn away from.

“What?” Your curiosity is piqued when his eyes grow big.

“No fuckin’ way,” he mumbles more to himself than you, “I didn’t even know they could do this.”

“What??” The irritation is clear in your voice, the feeling of being left out turning you into a brat.

“Umm, I think they had babies… yep. Marty definitely got her pregnant.” The smile on his face gives away just how excited he actually is and you hate to admit that it’s contagious.

“Well we’re gonna have to figure out a child support plan I’m afraid. Daisy’s a free woman Steve.” The serious delivery makes him do a double take before he narrows his eyes.

“Child support? No, we're raising these kids together. So I’m gonna need you to care a little bit about keeping her alive. It's not just you here honey.” He tosses you the toy before jumping back on the bed pulling your body into his chest with ease, “I’m afraid you’re never getting rid of me.”

---

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #eddie munson

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munsons-melody · 5 months

Text

putting the x in sixx (part 2)

summary: with corroded coffin now on tour with the boys of mötley crüe, nikki sixx takes the time to keep trying to get to you

pairing: rockstar!boyfriend!Eddie x female!reader

cw: mentions drugs/drug abuse,

recommended song: you’re all i need by mötley crüe

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this was a request and i was over the moon to write it!! also not very proofread :)

requested? yep :))

masterlist

part 1 can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

——

"uh huh... yes... yes of course... yep... okay... okay great thanks man" eddie said as he hung up the phone, turning to you with the biggest smile on his face

"good news?" you asked excitedly, moving up from your laying position on the couch, turning off the tv

"we're going on tour!" eddie screamed, jumping up and down causing you to giggle

"wait what? huh? explain!" you leaped from the couch to where he walked over to the living room

"that was our manager, he apparently talked to his buddy doc who talked to the boys of mötley crüe and said they loved our sound and our stage presence and when they go on tour they want us to open!" he explained, talking fast

your jaw dropped and you squealed, pulling him in close, wrapping your arms around his neck as you jumped and your legs wrapped around his waist

he held you close until you heard a small sniffle, and moved so you carefully landed on the ground

"eddie baby you okay?" you asked, moving a few strands of hair away from his face and wiping a tear that was falling down his cheek

he nodded and sniffled again, wiping the tears away from his face and looked at you

"i just can't believe it, i'm so happy" he admitted as you held his face gently and leaned into kiss him

as you pulled away, your brow furrowed in confusion "wait don't you need to tell the rest of the band?" you let out a small chuckle and eddie's eyes widened

"oh shit yeah thank you love you" he said, kissing you fast before running to the phone again

——

it was 2 weeks later and tour rehearsals were in full swing along with corroded coffin recording songs for their new album and mötley crüe doing endless press for their girls, girls, girls album that had just come out

you hadn't seen much of the boys of mötley crüe due to their heavy promo schedule, occasionally seeing vince in the studio helping eddie with some vocals, and of course, mick just appearing randomly, fueling yours and Eddie's inside joke that he truly was an alien with superpowers- reminding you of a specific girl that once escaped hawkins lab that led you to meet eddie

"god i'm just so excited for the tour!" you said excitedly, walking in between Jeff and Gareth into the rehearsal studio

eddie was stuck at the recording studio with dougie for another hour while you accompanied the boys to the rehearsal space as they deemed it necessary you be there since eddie couldn't

"me too! can you believe we're actually here and doing this?" gareth replied, matching the excitement in your voice

the three of you continued to talk as you walked through the corridors of the large building before appearing at the double doors before the room that served as the rehearsal room

you already heard Vince, singing out the last few high notes of 'dancing on glass' when the three of you walked in, standing there watching them finish up the song

once they were done, you clapped along with jeff and gareth and nikki looked at you, smiling

"great guys, take 5... and no bump- we have a lot to get through today" doc said in a grumpy voice before patting mick on the back and turning to talk to some other important looking person

nikki set down his bass carefully on its stand and walked over to where you were standing

"hey stranger" he said and you felt a blush creep onto your face

"hey yourself" you replied back with a smile

"didn't know you were going to be here today" he said casually and you nodded, turning to where gareth was once standing until you realized he was in conversation with jeff and their manager steve

"yeah well eddie's stuck in the studio for another hour and the guys wanted me to come watch them rehearse so here i am" you joked and he chuckled

"well i'm very glad you got to see us perform a little bit of our song" he said

"me too, i'm excited to see it on stage in a month when tour starts" you admitted, tucking your hair behind your ear while nikki gave you a confused look

"wait are you coming with us?" he asked and you nodded

"uh yeah i'm staying with eddie for the entire tour" you smiled and he did a slow nod and pursed his lips

"good to know" he said with a smirk when you heard tommy yell "sixx! we're doing girls now!"

"that's my cue... maybe you should stick around and watch us play, i'm very good at doing girls" he winked at you before turning around and walking back to where his bass sat

it didn't click until you heard the intro to their hit girls girls girls, that you understood the joke and for a second you felt stupid before you realized that nikki was hitting on you again... was he always this persistent with every other girl he's ever slept with? not like it mattered anyways, you were with eddie, and the happiest you've ever been

before you can fathom another thought about nikki, talking to you, the door swung open, and you saw eddie and dougie, walking in with smiles plastered on their faces

eddie immediately walked up to you and gave you the biggest kiss and wrapped his arms around you

"hey you still had like half an hour left before you had to be here?" you questioned with a laugh and he pulled back to look at you

"it's crazy, i just was able to sing every perfect note with the right amount of energy and dougie just knew the exact notes of what to play to help me and it was like everything just clicked and we finally nailed it, so now i can watch the rest of their rehearsal with you" he smiled, lacing your finger together

your heard the drums starting up along with the guitars and bass, and took eddie to one of the couches facing the set up as vince started singing

you've heard this song at least a thousand times, and you liked it too, but as you were sitting with eddie's arm around you, half your back leaned into his chest, it was hard to watch them perform with nikki's eyes fixed on you

this might be a long tour... you thought to yourself

——

the past week had been a blur with traveling all up and down the east coast, but you were finally in New York City, after a month into the tour

you were hanging out in the dressing room while corroded coffin did their sound check

you heard their songs being played in a row so many times within the past month that you took the opportunity to hang out in the dressing room and get a moment to yourself

you had just flipped, open a new magazine, and lay down on one of the plush couches in the room when there is a knock at the door, and before you could even get up to answer it, it was none other than Nikki walking into the room

"oh shit hey sorry didn't know you were in here" he laughed, attempting to turn around to walk out when you got up

"oh, no, it's fine, i just needed a break from everything, god this tour has been so hectic... i don't even know how you can put up with it all" you joked and he chuckled

"with this my dear" he laughed and pulled out a small bottle that you immediately recognized

"ah yeah right" you said, awkwardly smiling at him as he sat down at the table across from you

you aren't uncomfortable with drugs, as your boyfriend used to be a dealer back when you two were in high school but you've never actually seen anyone snort anything right in front of you

"want some?" he asked as he set it up on the table and you shook your head

"no thanks i'm good" you said as he took out a card from his pocket

he did his business and as his head came up, he looked at you, his eyes looking straight into yours

"what?" you asked, secretly praying that he wasn't somehow going to just OD right in front of you with how long he was staring at you before he finally spoke, which calmed your nerves

"i don't know why the fuck i can't stop thinking about you, but jesus christ i've fucked every girl i wanted, and yet you're still on my mind..." he said, fiddling with the card in his hand

you looked at him with raised eyebrows before you finally found the courage to speak again

"oh wow uhm... that's blunt" you choked out

"i'm that type of guy" he said before taking in another line

"listen nikki-"

"god even the way you say my name is so hot" he breathed out and you found yourself blushing yet again at his words

"i will admit years ago before i met eddie... i had the biggest crush on you and yes if i wasn't in the the most amazing loving relationship with eddie and these were all different circumstances, then it probably would've happened, but that's not what's going on and honestly, i highly doubt you'll even remember this conversation in a few hours" you finally said as he just stared at you

the tension was so thick you could chop it with an ax, and it would still be there, but eventually he leaned up from a seat, and took another line before falling back into his chair

"if i could turn back time" he started to sing and you let out a laugh

"if i could find a way" he continued

"oh now you're gonna try and seduce me with cher?" you joked and he let out a laugh

"no just manifesting i build a time machine and go back in time" he said, staring at the ceiling

"you know, for someone who likes to sleep around and not commit or come off as anything more than being a sexual partner to the opposite sex, you do have very romantic words" you admitted with a laugh and he shook his head with a smile

"i think tommy and his stupid hopeless romanticness is rubbing off on me" he laughed and you smiled

you heard cheers and screams from outside your door when it burst open to see a very wet corroded coffin barging into the room

"oh my god babe it started raining when we were outside on the stage and so after we finished up the last song we ran around on the grass and it was the most amazing thing!" eddie yelled walking to you and shaking his hair like a wet dog

"agh! babe!" you squealed with a laugh as he went to pick you up

you turned to run so he wouldn't pick you up to get you all wet but as you did, you fell right into nikki who was getting up

you landed on him he sat in the chair, your bum pressed against his crotch perfectly

"shit sorry!" you said, scrambling to get up

"don't ever apologize for getting this close to me" he quickly whispered, looking into your eyes before you got up, looking at eddie who had his head flipped over as he dried his long hair with a towel

"see you tonight boys! have a good show!" nikki yelled before giving you one last glance and headed out the door

—

it was an hour before showtime, and you sat with Eddie on the small loveseat in the dressing room, pretending to be in your own little bubble before you had to share your boyfriend with the rest of the world well the rest of the boys were trying to hype each other up and blasting the radio

you ended up telling him about everything that happened with nikki that day, and you sat there feeling guilty for no reason when eddie grabbed your hand and locked his fingers with yours

"y/n there's no reason to feel bad, i'm just thankful o have a girlfriend that's loyal enough to me that when nikki sixx is hitting on her, she doesn't cave, especially when you had the biggest crush on him... i love you and i trust you and just know that nothing you do will ever change that for me" he said, looking at you, bringing his other hand up to gently stroke your cheek

"i love you too eds" you said, immediately feeling better, and you wrapped your arms around his neck and the two of you switched positions so you could lay down together

"and honestly if you're feeling uncomfortable, i have no problem fighting him, he'll probably be too doped up to even realize he's in a fight" he joked causing you to laugh

"thanks but babe have you ever actually won a fight outside DnD?" you questioned and his face dropped into an expression of confusion and thinking

"uh not technically, well this one time-" you cut him off by kissing him and the second you pulled away, you could see the enamoration and love he has for you wash over his face

"when do we stop in Vegas?" you asked and he looked away for a moment as he thought about the schedule

"uh maybe like 2 weeks from tomorrow i think our show is there? why?" he asked and you smiled

"i think we should get married" you said as a smile grew on eddie's face

"you want to elope?" he asked and you nodded

"the whole nikki thing made me further realize that the only man i ever want to be with for the rest of my life is you eds, and i think it'll be romantic just the two of us together"

"sounds like a plan" he said ecstatically, kissing you

"wait what about nancy? didn't you and her already start planning wedding stuff, aren't you each others maids of honor or something?" eddie asked you once you pulled away

"what she doesn't know can't hurt her" you joked

soon enough, it was time for the boys to go on stage, and you kissed Eddie one last time before he ran from the side of the stage into the center as the music started to play

——

you had just finished corroded coffin's set and were in the middle of watching mötley crüe's set, standing in the private section of the crowd to catch a couple of their songs before you headed back to the tour bus

"this next one goes out to someone in particular, hope you know i remembered the conversation babe" nikki said as the beginning of 'you're all i need' started to play

you looked at eddie, who was looking right at you and you both let out a small laugh, knowing about the conversation you had with nikki earlier and how you believed that he wouldn't even realize what he said till just now

"you know i love this song" you joked as you moved his arms around your waist and yours around his neck

you were pulled in close to eachother, enjoying the song as you stared into each others eyes and stealing kisses from eachother, feeling like the only two people in the arena

"yeah, i know you" he smiled

"you could probably write a better ballad that's all about me" you said and eddie shook his head with a smile

"don't you think nikki will be upset i'll have my own personal love song dedicated to only you as your wonderful, soon to be husband?" eddie said with a laugh and you let out a chuckle

"what he doesn't know can't hurt him" you smiled

fin.

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poraphia · 7 months

Text

"The Battle of His Teal Hoodie."

➵ PAIRING! cc!wilbur x student!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.5.23 | 751 words

➵ CONTAINING! oversized hoodie, facetime calls, reader is a university student

➵ SAYING! literally so self-indulgent. ive been studying for like an hour straight in the library and im still THINKING ABOUT THAT HOODIE BRO IM GONNA GET IT ONE DAY WATCH BARKABRKARK btw if u wanna be in my taglist feel free to message me okay mwa mwa enjoy

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

When your boyfriend is over six foot and has an entire collection of merch where his name is plastered over cozy polyester hoodies,

you bet your sweet ass I was going to steal at least five of them.

College life wasn’t as romanticized as I thought it would be. Sure, the warmth of a coffee during a chilly morning while endlessly typing on my laptop sounded good on paper, but I guess I forgot to mention the endless due dates and upcoming exams I had to study for. I found myself buried in the corner of the university’s library on the quietest floor. I looked through my schedule, crossing out any assignments I already completed and also checking back on my classes to see if I needed to make any event adjustments.

My eyes felt heavy as I took another gulp of my caffeinated drink. My headphones shielded my ears comfortably as gentle sounds of a guitar strumming and a buttery voice filled my senses. A deep sigh escaped my nostrils before I sat back in my seat, slightly rolling away from the desk I was sitting at.

Bzzz! Bzzz!

I looked over to my phone on my desk before picking it up. I was welcomed by a picture of Wil with lipstick marks all over his face. Smiling, I swiped open the call to see my beautiful boyfriend walking around the busy streets of Brighton. I propped my phone up against my laptop to give him a full angle of me and the bookshelves behind me.

“Hey, darling, I missed you!” He smiled brightly.

“I missed you too, Wil. How was studio recording?” I asked. I pushed my laptop a little further back to make space in between me and my notebook. I took a colorful highlighter and started to go over my notes as he spoke.

“Studio was fine. We’re almost done recording a whole song for the new EP, so that should be exciting.” He chuckled. “I’m just heading over to Tom’s until you get out of school. Do you wanna get some lunch together after I pick you up?”

“Yeah, I could go for a sandwich and pretzel honestly.” I smiled, imagining the salty and buttery taste of the pretzel in my mouth already.

“Sounds good,” he confirmed. He took a glance of me briefly before doing a double take. “Hey, what are you wearing?” He asked. He held his phone closer to his face, only giving me an angle of his mess of curly hair and forehead.

“Hmm?” I hummed. “I’m just wearing my usual clothes.” I answered, oblivious.

“Now you’re just lying to me!” He laughed. “I see you smiling! Go on, stand up and let me that hoodie.”

With a defeated sigh, I stood up with my back nearly against the bookshelves so he could get a full angle of my outfit. I was wearing white tennis shoes, black shorts, but most distinctly of all, I was wearing Wil’s teal hoodie from his “Wilbur Soot ‘96” collection. The hoodie was nearly two sizes bigger than me with the sleeves going past my fingertips and my shorts just barely showing from how long the article of clothing was.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “So you decided to steal my merch, huh?”

“It’s comfy!” I exclaimed, hugging myself with the long sleeves wrapped around my waist. “Plus it smells like you, and it has your name on it! Wearing this is like screaming I’m the best partner Mr. Soot could ever ask for!” I went over and picked up my phone before holding it above my head.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He chuckled. “I’m going to steal that back once I pick you up.” He threatened, waving his finger into the camera.

“Over my dead body.” I stuck my tongue out at him. Wil scoffs, holding his hand to his chest as if offended.

“Oh, we’re going to brawl, just you wait.” He held his camera close to his eyes before bringing his lips to the camera. “Love you though!” Before I could say anything else, he hung on me.

I stared down at my phone. I smiled, tilting my head a little as I fiddled with the strings of my— or rather— Wil’s hoodie.

Maybe I should run to the gym a bit after class as a warmup.

——————•°•✿•°•——————•

a / n ~ hiii hope u enjoyed! reblogs, replies, and likes are super appreciated! im almost at 200 followers and im so excited!! seriously, i wanna get to know my followers better so if anyone wants to be an anon or just drop a hello please feel free :)

#poraphiafanfics #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x reader #will gold #wilbur soot oneshots #and wilbur #wilbur soot fluff #tommyinnit #ao3 fanfic #fanfic

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deluluaboutsteve · 8 months

Text

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader - best friends to lovers.

Summary: Fluff! You and Eddie have been best friends for years now but than unspoken feelings start coming to light.

Warnings: No use of y/n, smoking, swearing. Please tell me if I forgot any!

- - - - -

Eddie closes his locker and turns to face you.

“Hey, did you do today’s homework?” He looks at you.

You sigh. “don’t even get me started on it, I did like one page and than I got bored.” You laugh.

Eddie chuckles. “Can I get the one page you did?”

You roll your eyes and smile slightly. “Yeah, sure.”You grab your book so he can copy your answers.

Eddie never does his homework, you’re always the one doing it for you both but you don’t really mind. That’s what best friends are for right? To help each other out.

“Thanks, I owe you.” Eddie smiles.

“That’s what you always say.” You smile back at him.

The school bell rings, you sigh as you grab your bag from the ground ready to head to your last class of the day.

“You wanna hang out after class? I got the good stuff with me again.” He grins while whispering the last part of the sentence.

“Yeah, the usual spot?” You grin back at him.

“Yeah of course, but I’ll just wait for you at your locker.” He answers.

“Okay okay, I’ll see you after class than.” You smile while you turn around and start walking to your class. You hear Eddie say a quick bye as he walks the other way to his class.

You and Eddie sadly don’t have many classes together, you’re always stuck being bored in between all the snobs in your class. Just as right now. You don’t have that many friends, Eddie is your only real friend and you’re happy to have him, to be able to call him your best friend.

You’re waiting for the time to pass so class can be over but it’s taking way to long. The endless talking of your teacher boring you to death. You could definitely fall asleep right now if you wanted too. After what seems an eternity the bell finally rings and you grab your stuff quickly and head out.

Eddie is already waiting at your locker when he sees you approach him. “There you are.” He smiles.

You walk over to him and lean against your locker as you sigh. “that was so fucking boring.”

“Tell me about it, Mr. Clark gave me this whole bullshit speech about not having my homework finished again.” He sighs as he looks at you.

You give him a look of sympathy as you smile. “Yeah we could really use some of that good stuff that you brought with.”

“Yeah, we really do. Let’s get out of here.” Eddie says as he starts walking.

You guys always go to the same spot. A spot behind the football field in the woods. It’s calm and no one usually comes there expect the two of you, so you made it your usual hang out spot.

As you walk next to him you look at Eddie, you don’t know why, you just like looking at him. The way his hair flows in the wind, the way his eyes are so focused on the space around him. You don’t think he notices but he does, he always does. Just like you always notice him staring at you.

“Why’re you looking at me?” Eddie says as he faces you.

You turn your face to the ground as you feel your cheeks heating up slightly. You look back at him, “can’t I look at you?”

“I mean yeah you can, but you just stared at me for like a good 5 seconds.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes and smile slightly. “So? You stare at me all the time, it’s not that weird.”

You can see Eddie starting to blush slightly when you tell him that. “I don’t stare, I just glance.” He responds.

“Sure.” You say sarcastically while turning back to look in front of you.

After a moment of silence he speaks up. “You’re just easy to look at.”

You smile. “Well same goes for you.” You say while turning to look at him again.

“I’m not that good looking.” He says while he brushes his hair to the side as he walks.

“Shut up Eddie, you know you are. You also know that I find you good looking so don’t say that bullshit.” You laugh.

“True, I also think you’re very pretty.” He grins.

You blush slightly as you roll your eyes.

“You’re blushing now.” Eddie says teasingly.

“Yeah no shit.” You smile.

“I’m gonna be honest, you’re too damn cute when you’re flustered.” He turns to look at you with a smile.

You laugh. “You’re only gonna fluster me more if you keep this shit up.”

You walk over to the bench, your hang out spot, and sit down.

“Fine, I’ll stop flirting with you, for now.” Eddie sits down on the bench next to you.

You roll your eyes at the “for now” as you look at him.

“Hey, at least I said for now instead of never.” Eddie laughs.

“Fair enough.” You laugh too.

Eddie looks at you as he leans back against the bench.

“You wanna smoke now?” You smile.

Eddie sits back up. “Sure, let me grab it.” He searches in his bag and pulls out a joint and a lighter. “Gotcha” he says laughing. He lights it up and takes a hit, inhaling the smoke and blowing it out sighing. “Yeah I really needed that.” He hands it over to you.

“Thanks.” You grin as you also take a hit.

You hand it back to Eddie and he takes another hit from the joint.

“What else are we gonna do?” He looks at you and hands you back the joint again.

You take another hit and exhale the smoke. “I don’t know, get high I guess?” You laugh.

Eddie laughs along with you before taking another puff from the joint. “Sounds like a good plan to me.”

He hands it over to you again “This is some good stuff.”

“I know, it’s the best. It immediately works. The guy I got it from said it worked wonders.” Eddie says laughing.

You and Eddie make eye contact for a few seconds before you turn away and look in front of you.

“You wanna hear a fun fact?” He says randomly.

You laugh. “Sure.”

“Do you know the song ‘The Kids Aren’t Alright’ by ‘The Offspring’?” He says looking at you.

“Yeah duh.” You say.

“So you know the part that says. The kids are alright, the kids are alri-i-ight.” He sings the lyrics and you giggle a little as he continues talking “I just recently learned that there’s a deeper meaning to the line other than just telling us that the kids are doing alright.”

“And that is?” You raise your eyebrow.

Eddie inhales again and pauses for a second.

“That line is basically telling us that the kids are not alright, the world around them is crumbling apart and they aren’t fully aware of why.”

You just look at him for a second before you burst out laughing.

He looks at you confused as he says “what’s so funny?”

“Well isn’t that fucking obvious.” You continue laughing.

“Why is that so goddamn funny?” Eddie says as he looks at you and also starts laughing.

“I don’t know I guess it’s the weed. I just can’t stop laughing.” You say while coming down from the laughter.

“Yeah yeah, blame it on the weed.” He chuckles.

Eddie smiles at you as he takes another puff and then passes the joint back to you.

After a moment of silence he speaks up again. “I swear, you’re too adorable when you’re laughing.”

You chuckle. “Well I guess we’re back to flirting now.”

“It’s not flirting I’m just telling you the truth.” Eddie holds in the smoke for a second before letting it out as he grins at you.

You grin back as you roll your eyes.

Eddie looks up at the sky. “Hey, you wanna just lay down and look up at the clouds?”

“Sure why not.” You say smiling.

Eddie lies down on the grass and looks up at the clouds. “This is actually really soothing.”

You lay down next to him. “It is, especially when your high as fuck.”

You both laugh and look at each other.

“You aren’t wrong.” He sighs peacefully as he looks back at the sky.

You can’t help but stare at Eddie, he looks so peaceful looking up at the clouds. You smile as you turn back to look up at the sky too.

“Hey, do you see that cloud? It looks like a bunny.” Eddie points to a cloud he’s looking at.

You move closer to him to see where he’s pointing at. If only you could hear Eddie’s heart going faster right now. “No it doesn’t.” You turn your head a little. “Oh wait it actually does.” You laugh.

Eddie chuckles. “It’s all about the angle babe.”

You blush at the nickname, hoping he doesn’t notice.

“This is probably the most peaceful I’ve been for a long time.” He says after a few minutes.

You look at Eddie again and smile. “I know me too.”

Eddie turns back at you as he smiles. “Hey..”

“Yeah?” You make eye contact.

Eddie looks down at the grass and looks back up at you. “Y’know.. You’re kinda cute when you don’t realize it.”

You look back up at the sky and than back to Eddie. “Stop this Eddie, you don’t have to keep saying these things.” You smile at him and your cheeks are getting red again.

“Just saying the truth.” Eddie looks over at you as his face slowly turns red too. “Well.. I mean.. you are.. like actually adorable.” Eddie looks down at the grass, embarrassed and blushing really hard.

You’re blushing like crazy too now. “I know you tell me that like six times a day.” You giggle.

Eddie sighs and looks back at you. “Oh whatever, I’m still gonna keep telling you. Same goes for me telling you that you’re pretty, beautiful, amazing.”

“I know you will.” You smile softly.

After a not too long but comfortable silence Eddie sits up. “I really need to tell you something.”

He looks nervous, scared even.

You also sit up. “What is it Eddie?” You look a little nervous too now. Not knowing what to expect.

“Well, I’ve kinda had the biggest crush on you for forever honestly.” Eddie’s face turns red instantly.

Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. You want to kiss him, tell him you’ve been in love with him for years. You never thought Eddie would feel the same way as you do, even with all the flirting and stuff. We’re you really that blind to see he was into you too this whole time?

You stutter trying to find the right words to say. “I’m…” you look at him not knowing what to say.

Eddie just can’t speak, he’s never felt so nervous in his life. “Do.. you feel the same way..?” He finally speaks up.

You look at him and smile. “I’ve been in love with you for years dumbass.” You giggle.

Eddie sighs of relief and laughs a little. “God I thought I was about to die, the anticipation was killing me.”

You laugh. “I’m sorry, you had me frozen there for a minute.”

You fidget with your hands as you look up at him. “I never thought you felt the same, I’ve been wanting to tell you for so long but I thought that would just ruin our friendship so I kept quiet for so long.”

Eddie looks you in the eyes as he smiles. “How could I not feel the same when there’s so much to love about you? Your eyes.. and your laugh.. and the way you tease people.. and your beautiful smile and I could go on and on.” He says laughing.

“I’m really happy you feel the same way.” He keeps the eye contact.

“Me too.” You smile.

Eddie holds your gaze for a few seconds before he leans in and kisses you. You immediately kiss him back. After a few seconds you back away for air and he looks at you smiling. You kiss him again and he puts his hand on your cheek while his other hand caresses your back. You feel him smile into the kiss and you do the same. When you both back away he can’t help but smile his brightest smile. He intertwines your hands and you look at him as you kiss his cheek.

“I just felt like you needed to know, and if I didn’t tell you all that, I was gonna regret it for the rest of my life.” Eddie looks at you.

“And I’m damn happy you did.” You giggle.

Eddie grins. “And you make one hell of a kisser, you’re like.. the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

You smile. “Shut up.” you push his chest slightly. “You’re gonna make me never ending blush.”

Eddie laughs. His free hand stroking your hand that’s intertwined with his. “Soooo… does this mean that we’re, you know….” He looks you in the eyes.

“You mean a couple?” You laugh.

“Yeah I mean a couple.” He responds immediately.

“Yes Eddie Munson, you are my boyfriend.”

“And you are my girlfriend.”

- - - - -

Ahhhhh this is my first fic! I really hope y’all liked it and please give me feedback or any ideas for future fics if you want!

#eddie munson #fanfic #stranger things #joseph quinn #imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #about you #the 1975 #joe keery #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic

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killersfool · 6 months

Note

hii! not sure if you’re open to requests but i’m going to give u a few ideas! most of these are for elijah hewson😭

falling asleep on the couch, waking up to not only a blanket around them, but eli squeezed in behind them

being in the studio with the band and messing about?? making jokes and being silly!

kissing and dancing in the kitchen to an old singe they both like?

eli taking care of you when you’re sick and just being super soft and caring!

spending valentine’s day together!

something about the reader playing with eli’s fingers to calm them down?

softly smiling at each other from across the room and also reassuring touches!

telling each other how much they love them

them cuddling in bed and pulling eachother closer

hope these spark your writing :))))

Kiss It Better | ELIJAH HEWSON

here's a short little thing inspired by this request!

PAIRING: elijah hewson x f!reader

WORDS: 1.5k

SUMMARY: eli's girlfriend is ill, elijah comforts her.

GENRE: hurt/comfort, fluff

WARNINGS: references to throwing up

I've never been so ill in my life. My nose is so runny. I've almost used every single packet of tissues in the kitchen cabinet right under the sink — which used to be a lot and now is very little. I've thrown up my insides into the loo way too many times to count on my fingers. Bent over the toilet, eyes pricking with tears, I've never felt so useless. At least the thought of my boyfriend getting back after his gig gives me something to look forward to. But it's far too late.

I'm staring at the TV screen. I hug my knees to my chest, attempting to generate some warmth. The blanket is upstairs — probably hiding in the space between the bed and the wall. Surely, if I attempt to stumble upstairs now, I'll just get stuck and end up falling asleep in the corridor.

I can't stop glancing at the door. I'm hoping for a doorknob twist, knock, ring of the doorbell, stamp of boots, low and raspy post-concert voice. But I'm just met with nothing. No signs of his arrival. He hasn't called me. He usually doesn't. He likes to surprise me. After having the worst migraine of my life, it would give me some comfort if he just gave me a hug. A warm Elijah Hewson hug would cleanse my mind.

Starting to realise that the TV is doing more harm than good, I switch it off. I'm beginning to see blurry triangular shapes and my eyes burn like they're on fire. The living room is pitch black. I'm freezing. I'm tired. I take two paracetamol tablets and chug some water. Curling up on my side, legs on the armrest, I close my eyes.

I wake up. Sunlight gleams through the gaps in the white curtains. My body is wrapped in a duvet, soft and warm. Skin is against mine. Arms are around my body, squeezing me tightly. He's shirtless. I can tell by the tufts of chest hair flicking at my shoulder. His head is on my back, curls all over my skin, lips between my shoulderblades. I don't want to move. I don't want to speak. He's asleep. Gentle snores, deep breaths, in and out.

I must've fallen into a deep sleep because I have no recollection of his arrival or him ever taking me upstairs. I'm usually a light sleeper. This migraine fully knocked me out. That's the best nights sleep I've had in a while. I'm especially thankful I managed to escape from work for the rest of the week.

Elijah's normally the little spoon when we hug like this. It's funny how the tables have turned. I think I prefer this though. But lying awake and tracing the muscles in his back always seems to calm me down.

I want to ask him how the show went and the reason for his tardiness. He had been playing in Glasgow, thankfully only a few miles away from me and had bought me tissues, chocolate and gave me an endless supply of kisses before he had to run down to meet the band.

Opening my eyes fully, I take a peek over at the bedside table. He's brought me more tissues, face masks, more chocolate and a box of sleep teabags.

I realise Elijah's awake when his fingers start to walk along my bare stomach and his mouth is at the juncture between my back and shoulder. He pulls my hair to the side, presses his wet mouth to my neck. He smells clean. I'm sure he's showered. His hair feels a little damp.

He keeps pulling me closer. Arms tightening like he's a boa constrictor. Cool rings on my stomach, large hands tugging at the waistband of my shorts.

"You feeling better?" He asks, between kisses, tongue tracing my jugular vein. It's unsettlingly nice. His words are always gruff the morning after the show. All the singing takes a toll. Makes him sound more mellow. Sometimes I worry for his vocal cords.

"Not really." I groan. A mind-numbing headache is still prodding at my brain and the brightness of the sun makes my eyes burn. He's got a hand on my forehead, cool fingers against fiery skin — checking the temperature.

"God, you're pale. And you're burning up. I should get the thermometer." He gets out of bed. The loss of weight of his body makes the mattress shift. I glance over at him. His hair has stuck up at the top, his bare back glows under the sunlight. He stands up. Sweatpants cling loosely to his hips, revealing the muscles of his abdomen and a chain circles around his neck. He leaves the room — not even giving me time to utter a word of annoyance at the sudden lack of touch.

Then he's back. He crawls into bed. The thermometer is between his index finger and thumb. I look at the cross tattoo on his palm, see the concentration on his face as he plays around with the buttons.

"It's just a migraine," I say but he's already turning it on and pointing at my mouth. I roll my eyes and separate my lips. He gives me a sly smirk, just making me sit like that for a moment. Then he puts the device beneath my tongue and waits patiently. I'm trying not to laugh at how awkward this is. I close my eyes to evade his gaze but I can still feel the force of his stare.

"You've got a fever." Dr Hewson alerts me with his expert diagnosis although the furrow of his brows makes him seem unsure. He looks down at the numbers displayed, rubbing his face with worry. "A really bad one." He's now searching up on his phone what it means.

"Should I go to the doctors?" I shuffle away from him. I don't want him to catch what I have. He has gigs all week, I don't want to ruin anything for him.

He notices my movement. Shaking his head, he drags me back towards him, making me nestle into his chest. His eyes are still darting along a website.

"I think you just need to rest. I'll make you breakfast." Elijah kisses my nose before running downstairs with his mind set solely on making some decent food.

Through the corridor, into the kitchen. He's forgotten where half the things are in the room. Opening cabinets, searching through the fridge, putting water into the kettle. Most of the time he'll get his breakfast on the way to a show. Maybe a café, maybe he'll steal some food from Ryan. Today, however, he's lucky enough to not have a gig and actually have time to look after his girlfriend. Although he's definitely going to make a mess of the place.

His final decision is to make omelettes. Oil on the frying pan, ham—leaving it to heat up until it's a little crispy. Two eggs, cracked and swirled in a glass. Cheese on top, grated with masterful excellence—at least that's what he believes. Folds it over to make it fill half of the pan. Let's it continue to fry. Then he's running over to make a cup of tea. He uses one of the sleep teabags he bought. He's just about to plate up when footsteps echo behind him.

I have to stop for a second when I walk into the kitchen. It's a rarity to see Elijah here, cooking for me. We started dating at the beginning of the tour which unluckily means that he's hardly ever home. He has to leave early in the morning and gets back really late. Whenever he has days off, he takes me on dates and walks, or we just laze around at home, basking in eachother's presence. There's times when he brings me along to the recording studio so that I can reprimand all the band members or give an outside opinion of their new songs.

Elijah seems so focused on getting this omelette perfect. He's running around the place. He grabs two pieces of bread to turn his dish into an omelette-sandwich. I stand in the doorway for a while, just watching him. But, I can't stop myself from nearing him. As he cuts an apple into a slices, I slide my arms around his stomach, pressing my head to his shoulder. He sighs quietly. I breathe in his scent, his comfort.

"You should be in bed," he whispers, although he doesn't seem to want me to let go. I shake my head as he looks at me.

There's music playing on the radio. I turn it up. It's a song by The Smiths. I'm swaying to the beat, moving Elijah along with me. He's still carefully chopping fruit into perfect pieces. Watermelon, strawberries, mango. My mouth is watering just looking at the vast array of flavours.

Elijah drops his knife, turns around to face me. His hands find my waist, his lips find my neck, his head burrows into my chest like he's a mole hiding under soil. We dance along to the crackle of music, feeling the melodies trickle into our bones. Just his presence makes me feel better, every kiss turns my negative thoughts to mush.

#elijah hewson #elijah hewson oneshot #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson imagine #eli hewson #inhaler band #inhaler imagines #inhaler oneshots #inhaler dublin #fanfiction #inhaler fanfiction #robert keating #bobby skeetz #josh jenkinson #ryan mcmahon #inhaler #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine

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copiousloverofcopia · 4 months

Text

For the ghoul fuckers out there, here is my recent commission for @dantesunbreaker featuring our favorite gremlin, Dew!

Thank you so much for allowing me to write this for you. It was once again a pleasure and thank you for letting me to share it with others as well!

Also once again please be gentle with me I am not the best when it comes to ghoul content, but I am so happy that you all are giving me a change!!!

If you are interested in commissioning me, my carrd info can be found on my pinned post!

Never Change

The upcoming tour has you on edge when your devilish lover Dew decides to create a stir. While he meant no harm, the ghoul's antics only add to your frustration. When things reach their max and you can no longer continue, it's up to Dew to remind you on how to relax.

Also available HERE on AO3!

Definitely NSFW below the cut

Your head was pounding. The dark circles under your eyes, beginning to feel like a permanent fixture on your face and It seemed that as of late that the days grew longer and the nights shorter. You had begun to feel the weight of all the responsibility, you had at one time so willingly taken on. Now taking its toll more than you had ever expected.

At first you were elated to have even been asked. Working hard for the Ministry to ensure a successful tour for the Impera cycle was something any siblings would be honored to be a part of. There were days, however, when you hardly left the main office. The small room set aside for you, covered in an endless array of paperwork and incomplete itineraries.

At times it felt like you too were collecting dust, just as the numerous artifacts and forgotten tomes that surrounded you. More often than not, worried that the more you accomplished—the more you still had to get done. The ominous feeling of dread hitting you from the moment your eyes peeled open with the light of the sun. All of it, you often thought, would be a little less infuriating if it hadn’t been for your own personal gremlin—Dew.

You had fallen for him some time ago—back when you first became selected as a Canon for the Cardinal. A prestigious position within your Italian sect of the Ministry. You were ready to make a name for yourself just when Dew came into your life. Instantly drawing you in with his fiery and unpredictable nature. He was a force to be reckoned with, and he kept you on your toes.

The excitement between you left you with a sense of meaning—feeling more exhilarated and alive. All of your desires found to be mutual, leading to a romance between the two of you that rivaled that of Antony and Cleopatra. Hot and heavy, it was a wonder you ever got anything done. All of that, however, came crashing down when Cardinal Copia became Papa.

Your workload tripled overnight and suddenly you had gone from being able to sneak away to an alcove for some steamy afternoon delights, to being stuck behind the same four walls. Working day in and day out for weeks on end. No end in sight until the beginning of the tour. Worst of all, once the Ghost tour started and Copia left, Dew had to go with him.

You had tried not to think about it. Secluding yourself from the rest of the group. Dew, at first doing his best to give you space. At some point however, there was only so much he could give before a ghoul like Dew could no longer contain his natural urges.

This week was the worst of it. Dew finding new and inventive ways to drive you mad. First was him clawing up the sofa in the office. Leaving behind a trail of threaded up seams and worn down arm rests. He was a glorified cat in his own right, you thought, praying Sister Imperator would not hold you accountable.

The rest of the week Dew filled with the antics, the likes of an impetuous child. Trying desperately to gain your attention and doing his best to distract you from your responsibilities. Taunting you with the feel of his slick tongue running down the nape of your neck. His claws, grazing at the heat of your sex, all while you were elbow deep in monotonous paperwork. It took all the power you had inside you to shoo him from the office. The aching he left between your thighs—absolutely torturous.

You weren’t sure which was worse, the sexual edging or that he finished things off yesterday with a naked roll in the expense reports. Dewdrop, taking advantage of your quick trip to the refectory, to cover the pages in something wet. You, returning to find him amongst the pile of papers, all of them streaked in black ink and fluids. Of which the origins you dare not ask.

While you had tried to explain, in vain, why it wasn’t the time or the place. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn’t bring yourself to explain it in a way the ghoul would understand. To him it was all fun and games. He was teasing you after all, and if he wasn’t allowed to have you then this was the best way he knew to spend the time.

Now as you sat at your desk, you waited for the next Dew episode to take place. Feeling the tears pricking at your eyes when the door to the office creaked open. Your scrunkly handsome, mischievous, and smug ghoul wasting no time to step inside. Noticing right away when he walked in, that your face held more than the suggestion of tears.

“Hey babe… what’s got you all?” Dew asked, gesturing over his face with his hands. You let out a sigh, taking in a deep breath in through your nose, before exhaling sharply through pursed lips. Feeling the resolve you had been holding on to, quickly crumbling down.

“I—I just can’t take it any more Dew.” you told him. Sobbing into your hands as he quickly closed the space between you.

“Hey, hey, hey peanut. Tell me what’s going on? Are they adding more work for you again?” he asked, ready to throw hands with whatever clergyman had the balls to give you even MORE to do.

“No, that's not it.” you sniffled. Drying the tears with your sleeve as they fell from your eyes. Dew’s normally grumpy face, turning soft and concerned in their wake. His tail, coming to rest sullenly between his legs.

“Then… then what is it?” he asked, seeming to be genuinely unaware of what troubled you. The ghoul, bringing himself to sit beside you on your desk. Hopped up along the edge like a wistful kitten, wanting to comfort you.

“I am overwhelmed, that's true. Sister is on me to finish up all the contracts for the European venues and to top it off I just found out they are adding another date in September that I need to work out the details on and well… frankly Dew,” You paused, deciding to tell him the truth once and for all,”...you are NOT helping.”

“What? What do you mean?” Dew asked you, feeling a bit blindsided by your comment. Unsure of exactly what you were trying to tell him.

“I am running on empty. I have so much left to do and all this stuff with you is making the load feel ten times worse. I just wish… I just wish you’d stop with all the crazy while I am trying to work!” you yelled, putting your head down on the desk. The pounding inside of your skull intensified. It was all out in the open now. Dew pressed his lips together, feeling the weight of your words. Wishing he could take back everything he had done the past week.

“Hey…” he began, nudging you with his horns. You carefully lifted your head to meet with his gaze. This time your impish lover was staring back at you with soft, loving eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh?” you asked him, wiping away the remainder of your tears. Dew pulled you into his arms. Wrapping you in them, allowing you to release in his embrace.

“I’m sorry, I let things get out of hand. I never in a million years wanted to make you unhappy and I surely didn’t want to make you break down.”

“Oh Dew… it’s not just you. I—”

“No, I know… but I could have done better to make sure you weren’t getting into a bad place. That was also my fault. I promise you that this will never happen again.” he smiled, running his hand over your hair.

“I don’t want you to change Dew…” you told him. Worried that he might have misinterpreted what you were trying to say.

“I am not talking about changing who I am, baby. I am talking about not adding more to your plate when you are at max.” he explained, assuring you that your lovable Hellraiser would still be the same ghoul you fell in love with.

“Good, cause I wouldn’t have you any other way.” you smiled, bringing your lips to his. Feeling the heat rising between you. Your heart, already beating away as the blood went surging through your veins.

“Promise me something, will you?” he asked.

“Of course… anything.” you smiled, finding Dewdrop’s look of sincerity–incredibly cute.

“Never let this happen again, ok? Don’t wait until you are on the edge before you say something to me. Promise me that you will start to take breaks when you need them. You aren’t invincible babe. You need time to ground yourself too.” Dew explained. You nodded in agreement, surprised that such sage words came from such an unlikely source. Clearly his time spent in Copia’s company was rubbing off on him.

“I promise.”

“Good. You know, even us ghouls know what it’s like to need a break. I can empathize with you more than you think. The long hours on the road, lack of sleep, the constant needing to bring your A-game. I promise you, the constant burnout will make things harder and you’ll get even less done in the end.”

“Really?” you said, though you shouldn’t have been surprised. Dew was part of Ghost and had been for some time. Of course, he knew what it was like to live in chaos and like he was running on fumes.

“Really… so make me a deal. I promise if you start giving yourself the time you need to recoup, then I will stop being such an ass.” Dew winked, “Deal?”

“Deal.”

“...and you know there is one thing I can do to help you relax—if you’ll let me.” he smirked. Instantly your skin was flooded with goosebumps. Your body, knowing even before he’d made a move EXACTLY what that one thing was. Dew dropped off the edge, turning to lift you up out of your chair onto the desk as he buried his face in your neck.

Teeth scraping along a delicate spot as he breathed his hot, steaming words of affection against your skin. His claws, gently traveling down your chest to your stomach as he unbuttoned your shirt. Feeling his desire for you growing hard against the inside of your thigh. Already your body, getting wet at the mere suggestion of him.

“I’m gonna show you just how well I can get you to relax baby.” Dew purred as his fingers slid over your zipper—undoing your pants. You hummed in approval, wiggling out of them as fast as you could without losing your position on the desk.

“Show me… I need you.” you moaned. Chewing on your bottom lip and watching as his deep, piercing eyes fall to the center of your lap. His fingers, finding their way diligently to the wet spot of your underwear. Dew wasted no time teasing it with his digit. Rubbing you there until it was soaked all the way through.

“That's right baby… that's what I wanna see. I love how fucking wet you get for me.” he growled. Moving now to sink his fingers fully inside you. His fangs, following suit as he bit into your neck.

“Ah!” you cried out. Reveling in both the pleasure and pain combined between you. Rolling your head from side to side as the sensations overwhelmed you in the best way. Dew began to lick and suck at the bite. Leaving purple marks of ownership behind them. It would be clear to anyone who saw you, that you belonged to him. That he belonged to you.

As you leaned back on your elbows, Dew lifted up from your neck to watch as he pushed his fingers carefully past your folds. Licking his lips as he pumped them in and out of your dripping wet pussy. Hungry to taste you more than anything he had ever tasted before. Not satisfied enough just to have watched you squirm.

“You’re so good for me.” he purred again. His thumb, circling over your swollen clit before he began once again dipping his fingers in and out of you. Your hands, wandering over his sleek back and tangling in his long hair, just before you reached his horns. “Fuck.” he groaned, he loved that. Knowing that they allowed you more control—and he was determined to let you use them. Happily guiding his mouth down along your folds.

“Ah…mmm…” you mewled as Dew dropped down between your legs. His tongue slithering through your wet lips and licking up inside you. Alternating between sucking on your clit and lapping at your folds as he gently worked your insides with his hands. Humming against you as he did it–the vibrations driving you absolutely mad.

“Mmmm… So... fucking... good.” he moaned, palming his cock with his free hand. You wanted him. Needed him. Knowing that riding that cock and having him knot you was the only thing that could release you from the built-up tension. Your fingers gripped tightly onto his horns.

“I’m cumming… oh fuck I'm cumming!” you cried as he pressed hard into your g-stop. The sensation of his touch on the soft, velvety tissue—sending your hips up in the air. Dew, smiling against your clit as he felt you cum. Letting you ride out your orgasm on his hand while he delightfully lapped up your fluids. The juices covering his face when he pulled up to kiss you.

You were breathless and weak as you laid there on the desk. Unsure if you’d ever be able to move again—though you certainly wouldn’t have had it any other way. Your body, still falling from the heights of passion you’d reached when Dew lifted your legs up and over his shoulders. Hastily pulling his throbbing, leaky cock out from the confines of his pants.

“I think you’re still a bit tense.” he teased, you too blissfully pleasured to even respond. Well at least not with anything coherent. Dew began running the head of his cock up through your slick. Rubbing at your entrance to finish wetting himself before he was ready to slide inside.

He didn’t need to bother; you were already so needy and ready for him. Your hips rising up against his shaft. Trying hard to guide his cock inside. Begging for him to fill you, to provide you with the friction you so desperately desired between you. Thankfully you hadn’t had to wait long when Dew plowed his way in.

“Oh, fuck me!” you yelped as he pushed himself in to the hilt. His meaty cock, meeting with the farthest point of you. Dew was only too happy to oblige. Withdrawing backward, just so he could more forcefully pound back into you. You gripped tight to the back of your legs. Dew’s hands placed on either side of you on the desk to help steady himself as he thrusted away. Fucking harder and harder into your tight, little core with every thrust.

At one point it crossed your mind that you and Dew were most likely fucking on top of the expense reports from that morning. At that moment, however, neither of you cared. Your body, too engrossed in how good it felt to have him inside you. Bucking away as he pressed tight across your walls, filling you so well you could hardly stand it.

“Dew… I wanna cum… cum with me.” you mewled. Your wanton cries of desperation, making Dew grit his teeth, hoping to hold back his own climax. There was nothing so hot as you begging for him to let you cum.

“You want me to cum baby? Well, you gotta cum for me first.” he demanded, his tail snaking up your leg and teasing at your asshole. The fluids from your drenched pussy, spilling down over it as it worked its way inside.

“Ah!” you cried out as his tail entered you. Slowly fucking your ass as Dew continued to fill your pussy to the brim with his cock. You couldn’t barely stand it. Stretched fully inside by him. The sensation made you want to explode. Unable to hold back as your orgasm came ripping through you so fast that you soaked the desk below.

Dew wasn’t satisfied yet. Lifting up and gripping the back of your legs as he pounded harder. His thumb brought back to your clit, continuing to fuck you in both your holes. His tail swirling around inside your ass and pressing up against his cock, from the other side of the thin walls, while he thrusted into you.

Neither of you could sustain it much longer. The wet sounds of his lap, meeting over and over again with yours, was absolutely salacious. The well earned sweat, dripping down his back as he continued on. His speed, beginning to slow as he grew closer to his own climax.

It was unmistakable when you felt it. His cock, beginning to swell all around inside. Pressing against all the right nerves as he spread you out, knotting you. His tail, continuing to move in and out. The two of you panting and whimpering as the pressure inside continued to build.

Finally Dew couldn’t last any longer. Cumming hard into you. Ropes of hot, sticky cum—painting the back of your walls as his tail slipped from your ass. You, beginning to completely unfurl before him when you clamped down on him once again. Tugging tightly to his knot as you felt the force of yourself squirting around him.

And just like that it was over, Dew collapsing on top of you. More spent than he had ever been before in his life. It seemed that this relaxation session was just as much for him as it was you. You held him against your chest, your breathing beginning to settle. A sense of calm, that was promised to you by your ghoulish lover, taking hold.

“You see,” Dew began while still panting away, “there is nothing like a good fuck to help you relax.”

“Agreed.” You told him, both of you laughing in one another’s arms. There was nothing more you would ever need, than to be held by those arms. No matter how crazy things got, Dew would always find a way to level with you. Even in times that didn’t involve an overwhelming amount of sweat and cum.

“Thank you.” you told him. You were finally relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. Even more so now, knowing that you could come to Dew with your problems. Knowing that you could be honest with him and that it was ok to give yourself grace when you needed it. No matter what he would always be there for you.

“Anytime.” Dew smiled, helping you up from the desk so the two of you could clean yourselves off. Suddenly, as you rose off the desk, a look of concern spread across his face. Accompanied by an even more worrisome nervous grin.

“What?” you asked, not sure you wanted to know the answer as you picked off the stray papers sticking to your back.

“Now… don’t get mad, but I think we might have gotten some jizz on Copia’s permit agreement.

“Dew!” you laughed, giving him a tap to the chest, “Never change.”

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literally-noone83 · 15 days

Text

Breathe Easy

Draken x Fem!reader

Synopsis: Draken comes by your place at night only to find out you've been stuck in a household full of screaming and yelling.

A/n: Another short oneeee. Writing juice on low. But I hope you like this comfort fic. Also of you have any requests or ideas for fics please send them in, I'd happy to look at it. Might spark a new writing piece or if I like it enough, I'll write what you suggest :)) Ok enjoy! ALSO, can't reply to comments yet. But to the love given for my Loki fic THANK YOUUUU.

He saunters down dampened roads and over the faint, flickering spots of light from streetlights that buzzed softly. Slanted and with the lingering smell of rust and rain, it marked the neglect of these metropolitan roads. He breezes through the long alleyways and the small spaces between brick walls where every ounce of light is evaporated under the high moon. Only the rare silouhette passes by in his distance or the echoe of reving cars.

His hands rest comfortably in his pockets as he wandered through the blocks of apartments, and dingey homes sat on the outskirts of the city. He knew them like the back of his hand. Needn't stop once or look over his shoulder. He can hear the crisp air whistle in his ear and every mile away car. Even if he was to be attacked it wasn't an issue to Toman's vice-leader.

His nerves rest easy. All that's on his mind is getting to where he needed to be.

Nearing the apartment complexes that sit almost side by side, he made his way over to one of the windows just above the ground. Lined on the floor, there were the partial basement housings. His eyes glided over the dirtied cement, the way the barred widows glisten with droplets that run down its faces. Many of them had its curtains drawn. It was midnight after all. Everyone should be asleep but amidst the lot, his eyes flickered with familiarity at the one that was never fully drawn at this hour. A warm glow from a lamp he knew kissed the edges of the lower window as he drew near.

Naturally the end of his lip curve up softly at the sight. He stops at the foot of it before crouching down, beside your window into your room. He tilts his head to see you at your desk beside that small lamp as expected. However... his eyes peered over your slouched figure upon not textbooks upon textbooks but rather a comic. Strange, he thought.

Casually, he leans forward and knocks on your window. He watched your head snap towards him in somewhat of a shock. He noticed the way your eyes don't light up or the way you don't instantly smile. Instead, you're quick to move over to him and pull the window open before sitting back down.

"I thought you had patrol." You go back to the comic you left open. His smile has long disappeared.

"Finished... thought you'd be studying." He hums lowly. On cue a loud thud ricochet off the wall followed by barking voice of anger that overlapped one another.

Furrowed brows etch his complexion with worry as his eyes instantly dart over to your unflinching self. You continued to stare at your comic. With the way your eyes were distilled upon the animated drawings, he wondered how long you've been re-reading that same page.

"Couldn't think..." You finally murmur.

He let's out a silent sigh. "Should I-"

"They're fine... just angry as usual. And stupid."

His eyes danced over your expression carefully, but it doesn't move.

"Have they been at it all day?"

There's a momentary hesitation in your eyes and he watches shame wash over you like it's your fault. You hum softly not once looking at him.

Draken has seen that face before. Distant and quietly fuming, so unlike the unceasing smiles, bubbling and maniacle laughter, and that endless sarcasm that makes your eyes glimmer. At times, Draken truly wondered how two emotionally unstable and temperamental people could produce someone like you and let their shitty relationship weigh on their child this much.

Over the years knowing you, Draken never saw anything affect your mood as your parents' big blowout fights did. Draken never had parents, and despite growing up under the roof of a brothel that had its own varying imperfections, he could only imagine how hefty it was to be an only child isolated between walls that shook with the yells and screaming of parents love that's meant to warm them.

An unadulterated scream echoes, like a child throwing a tantrum before more barking follows; empty threats of money loss, divorce, cheating and who knows what more. The dull look in your eyes that stares blankly, he could see the hurt you never like showing. But he can see it.

His jaw ticks. He hated you being there alone. He quickly looks around, down both the empty wet streets.

"Hey." He said suddenly.

"You should go." You still don't look at him.

"Hey."

"They'll stop soon."

"I said hey."

"What?" You snap your head towards him, a hint of irritation.

Your gaze met his through the bars where he crouches. He taps on the metal.

"Let's go." It's not a question. It's a soft demand.

The crease between your brows smooths at the mere of idea of escaping. Your lips part, eyes unsure.

"I- draken I can't."

"You can. Come with me." He says again. "C'mon you've done it before."

You sigh at his persistence. "It's midnight."

"And this is a fucking shit hole." He deadpan. "Let's get out of here."

He coxed a brow at you in challenge as you looked at him sternly. Immediately his gaze softens into something assuring and pleading. "Cmon, Y/n... let them have it out. You don't have to listen to their shit."

You take a deep breath before shutting your comic and reaching into your draw for a key. You climb up and unlock the window gate. Draken stands back, swinging the gate open and reaching down to help you up through the window.

"God, they're gonna kill me." You grunt as you find your footing. Draken takes the key and shuts up your window and locks the gate.

"No they won't." He says it so self-assured. Not because he's sure you won't get caught sneaking out but because he'd never let anyone harm you, not even your damned parents.

"You're right, they'd come after you." You poke at him, a smile threatening your lips.

His ears perk up at the tingue of your familiar words. He straightens, looking down at you with a smirk.

"Good. Can't wait to actually meet them." His voice is unsuspecting, but his comment is playful. His dry sarcasm makes you roll your eyes and shake your head to hide the humoured grin that breaks out on your lips. You couldn't help yourself. If anything, everything in you chanted you shouldn't be smiling. Shouldn't even remotely feel like smiling after such a shitty day contained in a cage of torment. But with Draken, you let slip a rather quiet and sarcastic comment, and all of a sudden the end of your lips twitch, and you felt like laughing.

A satisfied smile blooms on his lips as he catches your small smile. There it was. That Sass. That impeccable humour that cracks at the smallest of things. That smile.

There's my girl, he thought.

He takes your hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Let's have fun, yea?"

You sober up and a genuine smile takes its place on your lips. Even in darkness, he could see the stars dance in your eyes. You held a softening gaze, and your shoulds deflated as if all stresses were slowly leaving you willingly and happily. With an expression that said through unspoken words he didn't need you to ever say aloud, 'I'm glad you're here.' That 'I feel safe with you.'

"To the park?" You asked, a twinge of childish hope in your voice.

That knowing look in his eyes said yes, and that was all you needed before you were tugging him forward then letting go in a spontaneous race to get there first.

At home you felt like you couldn't breathe. Those walls felt so close together. Outside knowing Draken was a few spaces behind or beside you, you could breathe. Puffing out white smokes of cold air from your lungs after running down the street, giggling and hushing one another in empty pathways and swinging on swings under the streetlight hazy glow.

With you, the dark alleyways and wet tar roads weren't so mundane. Cold rainy nights like that one, sauntering down cramped homes and dingey parks weren't so uninviting. Long nights didn't feel so long, and lonely walks didn't feel so lonely. With you, the moon wasn't the most beautiful sight in the night anymore...

Without having to say it or proclaim it, you both wordlessly save each other from your own endeavours. With one another, you could breathe easy. With one another, you were a little less alone. With one another, you felt safe and, most importantly, alive.

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killerpancakeburger · 8 months

Text

Bloody nose part 3 // Miguel O' Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Female Reader

Summary: You integrate the Spider Society, not without a couple of twists and turns.

Warnings: Swearing.

Tags: Comedy, action, BAMF! Reader, Reader has super powers, slow burn.

Words: 2570 words.

A/N: Some Hobie in this chapter! Can you blame me, he's so cool and funny. It's completely platonic in regards to the Reader of course.

Part 1. Part 2.

The interdimensional portal in your living-room and yourself are looking at each other defiantly. At least if that thing had eyes you imagine it would do that.

You don’t like portals. Not that you ever used one before, but the little you know from fiction inspires you absolutely zero confidence. Whether they come from magic or technology, crossing through time or space like so feels unnatural and incredibly dangerous. What if you end up in an endless void? What if one half of you get stuck on the other side? What if you end up a thousand feet up in the air and fall ineluctably to your death? Your powers cannot protect you from this.

Your niece isn’t here to reassure or guide you, since today’s a school day. You could have waited after school but the sooner you cut all her ties to the Spider Club, the better in your opinion.

You’re doing this for Naomi, you remind yourself, and, with a deep inspiration, you go through the pulsating hexagon.

The whole trip is a torture. You force yourself to let go, just let the current, or whatever is the mysterious force moving your body, carry you to your destination. I hate this, I hate this, I HATE THIS, you mumble to yourself.

Eventually the red and orange surrounding you turn to blue, then to a blinding white light, and the mysterious force transporting you suddenly cease to exist so you… drop like a stone. And crash miserably on the platform coming to meet you. Thankfully, there’s not a soul around to witness your pathetic entrance. You quickly get up, unharmed, except for your pride.

The elevator you’re in happens to be in glass and your attention is immediately monopolized by the views offered to you. Green stretches and futuristic white buildings spread as far as the eye can see. You’re definitely not in Kansas – ahrem, not in New York anymore. You’re so subjugated, you almost miss the elevator coming to a stop and the door behind you opening.

The room in front of you is sizeable, even if its deep whiteness and neon lights give it an hospital like aspect, and full of Spidermen. Women. Teenagers? They’re all wearing their suits and you suddenly feel, at the same time, like a sore thumb standing out, and like you just arrived to a fucking comic con. You start walking, torn between trying to pass unnoticed, and hurting your neck trying to take it all in. You never imagined this place would be so big and have so many people. You may be forced to take those guys seriously after all. All the Spiders walking on ceiling will certainly take you some time to get used to it.

You’re distracted by a cow-boy spiderman whose horse is apparently ALSO Spiderman – Spiderhorse? – since it can walk on the ceiling and wear a mask too, starting to wonder in what kind of mess full of weirdos you got yourself in, when the inevitable happen: you bump into someone.

“My bad”, you apologize immediately.

“No worries, mate”, replies a voice with a thick British accent.

You look up – because, once again, this is someone who’s towering over you – and take in the teenager facing you with an easy smile. Your gaze lingers on his numerous piercings then take note of the spikes on the shoulders of his leather jacket. There’s a punk spiderman? You think to yourself, before taking the good resolution to stop wondering what kind of spidermen exist – obviously the list never ends.

Thankfully the kid doesn’t seem to take offense to your staring as he addresses you in a joking manner:

“Forgot your suit at home? Happens to the best of us. Or maybe you’re Spider-Hoodie?”

It’s your day off and your tracksuit, sport shoes and zip-up hoodie could never pass for a superhero costume.

“I… I’m a new recruit”, you answer with less confidence that you would have liked. What if they consider you an intruder? Sound the alarm and send a thousand spidermen after you to throw you in an interdimensional jail?

“You don’t sound so sure about that”, he raises an eyebrow, eyeing your watch. “You know what you’re getting into?”

It’s your turn to raise an eyebrow.

“I’ll manage, kiddo, but thanks for the concern.”

He raises his hands in surrender.

“Just checkin’, that’s all. Name’s Hobie Brown, by the way.”

You give your own name in answer, but as you go to shake his hand, you stop dead in your tracks.

“You… change colours? You change colours. That’s a thing. Ok.”

You stupidly stare at him as he goes from the traditional blue and red of spiderman to just red to pink to settle on black and white. He chuckles at your confusion.

“You’ll get used to it. So, you know where you’re going, Newbie?”

“I’m supposed to meet with Miguel, I guess.”

Hobie doesn’t even try to hide the antipathy that name seems to evoke for him.

“The big boss man, ‘course. You in a hurry? Cause if you’re not, we could take the scenic route.”

You can’t stop the smile that spreads your lips.

“You’re always looking to make new recruits desert and stand up the boss?”

“Always. Antagonizing the authorities is one of my favourite hobby.”

You laugh frankly.

“That’s terrific. I think we’re gonna get along great. Scenic route it is!”

Along Hobie, you pass through the Spider Society’s jails, or at least the room where they stock what they call “Anomalies” before sending them to their original dimension. You have a look at their “Strength and Conditioning Centre”, which is really just a fancy and stupidly complicated way to say “gym”, but you can’t help feeling eager upon seeing their state of the art weight machines. You meet Hobie’s friends, Gwen, a melancholic yet resolute teenage girl, and Pavitr, a psyched-up teenage boy for who becoming spiderman sounds to be the best thing that ever happened to him. His enthusiasm momently makes you feel weird, reminding you of the not so long ago times where you only saw your powers as a curse, but you keep your mouth shut. Your own experiences aren’t universal and you have accepted years ago that your opinion isn’t prevailing. Not to mention that ruining a kid’s fun would be quite shitty of you.

You also don’t say anything about the alarming number of teenagers that appears to compose the ranks of the Spider Society. Naomi is the only kid who’s your responsibility, and therefore the only one you have any rights or authority over. Thinking back about your own youth, which was the period when you got your powers, you know from experience that stopping a 15 years old with superpowers to do whatever they want is, for ordinary humans, close to impossible.

Eventually your new acquaintances guide you to Miguel’s… – you can’t possibly call that an office – crypt? Mancave? At first you don’t understand why they stopped since there is nothing in front of you, but then you hear a sound of machinery running and follow the others’ gazes, somewhere much higher than where you were legitimately looking, and finally see the man. He’s standing on a descending platform equipped of a myriad of orange screens, so many that you can’t imagine how he manages to get his bearings between them all, back turned to you.

This is all good and well, except for the fact that his platform is going down at a painfully slow pace that makes you cringe just watching it happen.

“What’s happening?”, you ask the others. You find it hard to believe that with how advanced the technology here seems to be, there’s no way to make this stupid platform go faster.

“That’s his… thing.”, says Gwen. “Don’t mind him.”

You let escape a nervous laugh, the kind you have when you start feeling yourself go crazy.

“Is this a joke? It has to be a joke. Are you guys hazing me? I’m too old for this bullshit.”

The profound silence and the awkward grimaces that greet your remark makes you realize that, no, this isn’t a joke. You don’t know whether to pinch the bridge of your nose or roll your eyes. You want to tell them that they’re all a bunch of crazy freaks in costume and that you never should have come here. Then you grasp that this problem is actually very easy to solve and you leap on the platform. Like you’re in a fucking Mario game.

“What’s up, Miggy?” you force out, with the most insincere smile you can muster, not bothering to hide your irritation.

“Oh, you’re there. Great. Let’s get this over with”, he says with a deadpan voice and an even more deadpan face. That’s when you realize he didn’t even notice your presence until now, too absorbed in his screens. Add to that the fact that he looks like he just pulled an all-nighter. “And don’t call me that”, he adds afterwards, like an afterthought, frowning.

You restrain yourself from telling him he looks like a zombie, and decides to be proactive. The truth is, you learned teamwork the hard way – in the line of fire –, because it never came to you naturally, and you honestly despise it. Nonetheless you know when to put your feelings aside when the situation calls for it.

“Sure”, you start, slowly, testing the waters. ”How about finding some place with chairs and maybe even a table and some coffee? I was sooo excited to join you guys I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

That last sentence is an obvious bootlicking lie that Miguel doesn’t buy, and he looks like he’s about to refuse, so you pout at the best of your abilities, trying to make him understand that you’re more stubborn than him, and he relents in a sigh.

“Alright. Follow me. And you three – he looks severely at the teenagers nearby – I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You bid farewell to the spider kids who obey Miguel with more or less reluctance.

“Lyla”, he calls out, “Can you tell Jess and Peter to meet us in the conference room?”

You open your mouth to ask who the hell is Lyla, because to your limited knowledge there is no one of that name in the room with you, and leave it open in incredulity when a light in the shape of a woman appears over Miguel’s shoulder and answers him.

“On it!”

“What the fuck is that?”

Alright, that may have been kind of rude, but you’ve had it with all the weird shit around here. You’ve been holding in your comments pretty good until now.

“Lyla’s my personal assistant.” Even if Miguel deigns to answer you, it sounds more like he did it automatically rather than anything else. He keeps walking without sparing you a glance and you follow.

“I’m an holographic AI software“, adds Lyla, who sounds glad to show off.

“You have holograms? That’s so cool… wait. So you’re from the future or something?”

“In my dimension the year is 2099. I’ll explain in details when we get there.”

And so your little trip continues in silence, one which is neither awkward nor comfortable. You think about how Lyla seemed way more chattier than Miguel, so you try your luck.

“Lyla?” There really is something particular about calling the name of someone – something – who you know isn’t there but who you expect to answer nonetheless.

“Yeah?” she replies, materializing in front of you, laying on her back with her hands crossed behind her neck, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Which you supposed should be expected from a computer program.

“You don’t answer only to Miguel?”

“I am available to assist all members of the Spider Society in protecting the multiverse, but Miguel’s requests take priority.”

“What can you do exactly?”

“Sooo many things… I transfer calls between Spider Society’s members, I detect and track anomalies all over the multiverse, I check the state of the canon, I predict the appearance of canon events, I help Miguel create gizmos and goobers…”

You understood half of that but assume Miguel will explain soon the jargon. You chat amicably with the AI while being careful to not lose Mr Dark And Brooding because you know you will get lost.

***

“Did you get all that?”

After listening religiously to Spiderman 2099 for close to an hour and being bombarded with information, you need a moment to get your act together. You feel like you accidentally tore open the fourth wall of reality itself when you shouldn’t have and what you saw on the other side changed you forever. Alternatives dimensions are real and infinites. You are currently in another dimension where the year is 2099 and New York is named Nueva York. The possibilities are endless. Somewhere out there, there are worlds where your sister is still alive. Where you died instead of her in the accident. Where you don’t have powers.

Miguel’s question brings you back on earth, however. To yearn for another existence can only leads to death and destruction.

“Yep.”

Bad answer. He puts his hands on his hips and raises a sceptical eyebrow.

“Did you now?” His voice is dripping with sarcasm and you want to punch him again.

“Yeah I got it. The multiverse exists. Don’t stay in another dimension for too long or everyone dies. Do not interfere with fixed events or everyone dies. Do not let people from other dimensions linger in one that’s not theirs or everyone dies. This is pretty basic sci-fi time travel’s rules. I just compacted your lecture in three sentences, you’re welcome.”

“Che maravilla. Then you can be in charge of giving my “lecture” to the new recruits.”

“I’d say I don’t make a good pedagogue but at least I’ve never thrown a desk at a kid.” You retort without missing a beat, crossing your arms, a sneering smile spreading your lips, staring back at Miguel.

You can’t really be mad at him for the sarcasm, it’s your favourite form of humour after all. But if he wants to play, you’ll give as good as you get.

Once again, Peter plays the peacemaker.

“Heyyy Miguel, didn’t you want to ask about her powers?”

The aforenamed sits for the first time since you arrived in the room, in the chair facing you.

“Lyla, can you take notes of this?”

Lyla makes a military salute.

“From what I’ve gathered firsthand – he rubs his jaw where you punched him – you have enhanced strength. Is your skin completely impenetrable? What about the rest of your body?”

“Enhanced speed, enhanced stamina. I’m almost unbreakable. My muscles and my bones included. My eyes are not.”

“Define “almost”. ”

“The most damage I’ve ever sustained was when I took a shotgun to the head and it knocked me out for a couple days. Otherwise I’m usually bulletproof.”

“What about fire? Are you also immune? Electric shocks? Explosives?”

“Yes, yes and yes.”

It’s like having a conversation with your doctor.

Peter lets out an enthusiastic “wow” and Jessica considers you more attentively. As for Miguel, you can’t tell if he’s impressed or satisfied to have a promising recruit. However you’re quickly interrupted in your analysis of his expression as he stands up.

“Get up. Time to show what you’re capable of.”

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #mine #miguel o'hara/reader #atsv fanfiction #atsv fic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #atsv miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x you

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patchworkgargoyle · 3 months

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🩸 A Steddie Big Bang Fic 🌙

Chapter 4

story by: @patchworkgargoyle || art by: @mcdadarts || playlist to come by: @steves-strapcollection Rating: E || Words: ~3.5k || CW: graphic depictions of violence, blood drinking || Full tag list on ao3! || Posting: weekly Fic title from Wolf Like Me - TV On The Radio

It had taken two hours–two whole, entire hours, from 12:30am to nearly 3am–for Munson to get enough things together for him to feel ready to leave for Steve’s house. He’d kept getting distracted, rifling through his room like he’d forgotten almost everything he owned and each uncovered trinket was a noteworthy discovery. And Steve was annoyed.

Dustin and Chrissy managed to keep Eddie on track, somehow, and Steve knew if they hadn’t they’d never have left before the sun came up. All he’d done was sit in the doorway to Eddie’s room and complain that they were wasting time. How many damn band tees did a guy need, anyway?

When he saw Eddie try to put his infamous lunchbox into his patched up duffel bag, Steve put his foot down. “No, you’re not bringing that into my house.”

“I’m an entrepreneur, Harrington, don’t tell me I can’t keep up my business. One that you’ve personally partaken in, in fact, so you being stuck up about it isn’t gonna fly.” he replied with a tight smirk.

“Business?” Dustin asked, but went ignored by every teen.

“If you’re still out making–” Steve glanced at Dustin. “Making money, running around town, that messes up the plan. And you can’t have them come to my house either.”

Eddie grit his teeth, clearly trying to bite back a sneer, then tossed the lunchbox onto his bed a little rougher than Steve thought was necessary, narrowly missing Chrissy who was unfazed. Steve just rolled his eyes.

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Dustin spoke again. Bluntly. “Eddie, are you a prostitute?”

Eddie burst out laughing, loud and unrestrained. Chrissy choked out a giggle, hand over her face. Eddie doubled over with his arms wrapped around his waist and Steve’s eyes were drawn to the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, dark lashes fanned over his cheeks while tears started to clump them together. Swallowing, Steve looked away and ignored how his face heated at Dustin’s question.

“Jesus H. Christ, kid, that’s a new one,” Eddie said around his poorly contained cackling, wiping at his eyes. “I’m a creature of the night, not a man of the night. There’s a difference.”

Of course, Dustin wasn’t deterred. “What’s in the lunchbox then?”

It was then that Eddie scooped up the joint he’d rolled for Steve off the floor, like he’d just remembered it was there, and shoved it into his pocket. “Something I’ll tell you about when you’re older.”

“No, you will not,” Steve said firmly, glaring at Eddie who held his hands up in surrender in a way that was distinctly sarcastic, a glint in his eye like he knew he was pushing Steve’s buttons. It set his teeth on edge. The dimple that appeared when Eddie smirked and winked at Dustin made it worse.

But, eventually, they were on their way. Chrissy drove off after promising to stop by Steve’s in a day or two, and also after extracting from Steve a promise to keep Eddie safe. She and Eddie had hugged for a long time while Steve loaded Dustin’s bike into his trunk, which did nothing to convince Steve there wasn’t something going on between them, but at this point it wasn’t really his business.

On the way to drop Dustin off, the kid asked Eddie an endless stream of questions which Eddie could only answer half of. Was he able to go out in sunlight? No. What happens? His skin starts to boil and blister. Did he have a healing factor? Yes. Could he turn into a bat or a wolf? He fuckin’ wished.

When Steve parked in Dustin’s driveway, Dustin was in the midst of asking, “So who turned you?”

“Uh, wasn’t a ‘who’ as much as it was a ‘what.’” Eddie leaned into the space between the front seats, tilting his chin up and pulling down the collar of his shirt. There was no missing the scarring on Eddie’s jaw, but it was shocking to see how far it went down, and how ragged the scarring really was.

“Did you get used like a chew toy?” Steve asked, which got a snort out of Eddie.

“Bet you’d know all about that, huh?” he teased. Steve’s lips pursed and he hoped it was dark enough they couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Before Eddie could start explaining, the front door swung open, spilling light onto the driveway and Claudia stepped out, hair in curlers, wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, and wearing a deeply worried frown. Dustin cursed under his breath and scrambled out of the car with a hasty goodbye.

“You’re welcome!” Steve said, but Dustin slammed the door shut before he finished, trapping the following sigh within the leather upholstered interior.

He only half-listened to the muffled conversation between the Hendersons, having heard the worried questioning brushed off too many times to count, now, and returned the smile and wave Claudia sent his way before they went inside.

“Kid’s really got an ego,” Eddie said with a nervy laugh, and Steve snorted.

“You could say that again,” he replied.

The drive home was, well, probably the most awkward one Steve had ever experienced. For all of Eddie’s bluster in the trailer he fell unnervingly silent. His leg, though, kept bouncing rapidly, and he picked at his cuticles while he kept his gaze fixed out the windshield. Even his slow heart picked up to something a little closer to a normal, human pace.

“You okay, man?” Steve eventually asked once the bouncing started to drive him a little insane.

The laugh that escaped Eddie sounded manic. “Sure, dude, just waiting for the point at which you pull over and take me out like some supernatural hitman.”

“Wait, what? I’m not gonna t-take you out!”

“You mean you weren’t waiting to get me alone just to assassinate me?”

Steve shook his head, baffled. “No! I’m literally just taking you to my place. That was the plan, not whatever… insane thing you’re thinking of.” Sparing Eddie a glance, he caught him staring back with wide, tense eyes, his irises black in the darkness of the car. “I promise, Munson. No funny business.”

He let out a long exhale, but finally Eddie slumped heavily into the seat. “Thank fuck. I don’t particularly want to die, especially not at the hands of a monster-hunter-turned-werewolf.”

“If it helps, I’d make it quick and painless,” Steve said, smirking. He hoped the joke would land and not make Eddie either more worried or, worse, piss him off. He didn’t want an angry vampire loose in his car.

Thankfully, after a pause, Eddie barked out a laugh, head thumping against the headrest. “Good to know I’m in the hands of an ethical killer, then.”

Steve chuckled along, but it faded quickly as the words soured something in his gut. He had to set that straight, right now. “I don’t, uh, kill. If I can help it.” Catching Eddie’s interested look, he continued. “It kinda goes on my record as a hunter, and not as a good thing, but I can’t bring myself to do it. There’s some stuff that’s really just an animal, and if they go feral then I have no choice, but that’s, like, the very last option. Most creatures are pretty sentient, so…”

“So killing them feels wrong?” Eddie supplied where Steve trailed off, and Steve nodded, finally pulling into his own darkened driveway.

“Yeah. They can be reasoned with, somehow, or led away to a safer place, y’know?”

“Huh.”

With the Bimmer in park, Steve turned to Eddie. He had his head tilted to the side, curls draped across his unscarred cheek as his eyes darted all over Steve’s face. A tiny line formed between his eyebrows. Steve felt examined, like Eddie was assessing him, and wanted to look away, get out of the car and walk off the buzz the intensity left under his skin. Maybe it was just a vampire thing.

A slow smile stretched Eddie’s full lips, one that felt much more genuine than any others Steve had seen that night. “So you’re just a glorified wildlife rescuer?” he said, amused. Steve just shrugged.

“I guess so. Supernatural wildlife.”

“Now that makes me feel a lot better. Bleeding Heart Harrington, who knew?”

“Shut up, you’ll ruin my reputation,” he joked. Shoving Eddie’s shoulder, he said, “C’mon, let’s get you settled in Munson.”

—

Having someone in his house 24/7 was an experience Steve hadn’t had since he was a kid. Once he hit his mid-teens, his parents started going on consultation trips and left Steve in as the resident Harrington Hunter in Hawkins, only backed up by the (usually ineffective) police, and the Carvers. He did well enough for himself, and he took a little bit of pride in being independent, told himself he liked the quiet. Filling the house with parties, before everything went to shit, was just expected of him. Having Robin and the kids around a few times a week was just for hunter business (and to hang out with his best friend).

This, though? Having a bored, listless, undead roommate messing with his things, moving them out of place, leaving wet towels on the bathroom floor even though the basket was right there, closing all the blinds and curtains instead of staying in the guest room to sleep during the day, like a normal person would? It was the most annoying experience of his life.

Each morning he’d join Steve in the kitchen before work, his eyes boring longingly into Steve’s mug of coffee. The first morning he offered to brew more, yet Eddie shook his head and said, “Wish I could, buddy, but I don’t think either of us wants to clean up that mess,” and cackled at Steve’s disgusted grimace. But it turned into a routine from there, with Eddie poking fun at his mom’s dull decor choices and Steve’s hair care habits while Steve struggled to bring his brain up to speed with Eddie’s seemingly endless energy. He did notice the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes growing a little more intense each day, but if Eddie didn’t seem bothered by anything, Steve wouldn’t mention it.

Steve would come home to find his parents’ records strewn all across the off-white carpet, Eddie lying amongst the pile listening to whatever he’d claimed to be “barely tolerable” at a truly ridiculous volume. He couldn’t get too mad, because when he’d ask Eddie to turn the volume down he’d give a genuine apology and scramble up to reach the volume knob, but still. Annoying.

Add to it the rest of the Party, who demanded to invade his house as soon as Dustin told them all the news, and Steve was ready to pop a blood vessel.

He wasn’t supposed to have to babysit a group of middle schoolers and a fully-grown adult nerd, and yet. Here he was. At least the others would be arriving soon for a meeting.

They were so loud, too. Dustin, Mike, and Eddie sounded like they were arguing but from the sounds of it they were just excited. Will, Lucas, and Max sat in their own little bubble, talking just as loud if only to hear themselves over the obnoxious yelling. Steve had to close himself in his kitchen and breathe for a few minutes before he could face the noise, and how Max managed to handle it he had no idea.

“Alright, hey!” he shouted over the mass of nerds huddled in his living room. They didn’t stop. He clapped his hands, loudly. “Hey!”

Finally all their heads turned to him. Will and Lucas at least had the manners to look apologetic. The rest of them were unimpressed–though Max was exempt, Steve couldn’t change that if he tried.

“Keep it down, you’re gonna make me burst an eardrum.”

“Whatever, old man,” Max snarked with a little smirk. Lucas laughed, making Steve roll his eyes with a fondness he’d deny.

“Sorry, Steve,” Will said.

He sighed. “It’s fine. Don’t know what you’re all screaming about anyway.”

“Eddie was telling us about his D&D campaign,” Dustin said.

“Of course. That definitely means you have to shout at the top of your lungs.”

Mike, Dustin, and Lucas all gave him a glare that screamed, “Duh.” Brats. But then Steve saw the thoughtful look on Eddie’s face. One that spelled bad news.

“Y’know, I couldn’t run a campaign for you tiny tots through Hellfire because of the–” he waved a lazy hand at the curtains shutting out the weak autumn light from the backyard, “but maybe I can now.” He grinned when the boys all started shouting again and Steve let out a groan.

“Maybe if you all shut the hell up,” Steve said, surly and rubbing at his temples. That was when the doorbell started to ring, repeatedly and insistently, and Steve stormed off to go answer the door.

Robin opened it with her key just before he’d gotten there, grinning. “Hey, dingus!” Nancy and Jonathan stood behind, the former glaring at Robin and the latter wearing a sheepish smile. Before he could even invite them in, Robin pushed past with an affectionate shoulder bump.

“I’m sorry, I think she heard that racket and–”

Steve finished Nancy’s sentence while pulling her into a one-armed hug. “Decided to be an ass? Yeah. That happens. I’ll get her back by stealing her food at work.”

“I heard that!” she shouted from the kitchen needlessly.

“Good!”

Jonathan chuckled at the exchange and gave an awkward nod when he followed Nancy inside. All they were waiting on now was Hopper and Eleven’s arrival. The teens gathered on the fringes of the kids’ loose huddle around Eddie, catching up on their day-to-day, which mostly meant commiserating about school and work, until the last knock on the door came and Steve let Hopper and El inside.

El gave Steve a bright, wide smile and raced off to the kids, leaving Hopper shaking his head fondly at her.

“How’s it going, kid?” he asked, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

“It’s fine. Looking forward to getting this solved though.”

Hopper hummed in agreement, making his way to the group.

“Oh, fuck.” Eddie’s eyes went wide when he saw Hopper, quickly looking at Steve. “Why’s he here!?”

“Good to see you too, Munson,” Hopper droned, “but for once it’s not because of your shitty life choices.”

Eddie snorted. “Says the guy who buys–”

“Shut it.”

Steve watched the two, biting back a smile when Eddie zipped his lips and gave a mocking salute, Hopper’s eyes narrowing at the gesture. Catching his eye, Eddie smirked at Steve, the corner of his mouth pulling down in amusement. He couldn’t help it, a smile cracked through Steve’s resolve and he dipped his head to hide it.

Sighing, Hopper began again. “So, I assume at this point everyone’s been caught up on the situation?” A round of nods and he grumbled, “There’s no secrets in this damn group. Fine, makes this easier then.” He jerked his chin at the kids. “You lot, you’re to stay out of anything that isn’t research. You’ve seen enough already.”

Where Will and Lucas looked a little queasy at the memory of the werewolf, Dustin, Mike, and Max started protesting. El merely glanced between them all curiously, but when Mike started to make his defence, she began to nod.

“We were the ones to find it, we know what to look for!”

“You know a dead werewolf body when you see it, great job,” Hopper snarked. “That’s more than you should’ve ever seen, so you’re benched, got it?”

They groaned.

“If anyone calls the paper about some weird sightings, I’ll follow up on it and let everyone know. And maybe Jonathan and I can check the archives, on the off-chance that there’s something there?” Nancy said, earning a nod from Hopper.

“Steve?” He looked up when his name was called. Hopper seemed almost apologetic about what he was going to say next. “Your best move is to do nothing. We can’t have you drawing attention to your squatter.”

“Hey, I was invited, thank you very much,” Eddie said.

Steve sighed, frowning. He knew it was right, but he hated being put on the sidelines. It also meant he couldn’t be out there, helping. “So no patrols?”

“Nope. Sorry, kid.”

He folded his arms and leaned further against the corner he’d claimed. “What if something else happens? Other hunter stuff?”

“Leave it to me, alright? Me and the guys can handle it for a while. Hell, maybe we’ll even make the Carvers pull their weight for once.” Steve and Hopper both shared a scoff at the idea, though Steve still wasn’t confident that those in the know at Hawkins PD could handle much at all.

“I guess that leaves me on Dingus Distraction Duty.” Robin sidled up beside Steve, offering him an open bag of chips pilfered from his own kitchen.

“I think now you’ve got two dinguses to distract, if you’re hanging out here,” he said. She and Eddie locked eyes expressionlessly for a moment, then pointed finger-guns at each other, giggling. Why did this suddenly seem like a very bad idea?

“If anything comes up, like if you find another corpse, you’ll call me, right?” Steve asked, a little worried about his fate if Robin and Eddie got along as well as he dreaded they would, and Hop nodded.

“You’ll be the first person I call.”

“Wow, Harrington, you’d rather hang out with a dead guy than an undead guy? That hurts.” Eddie put his hands over his heart. “That hurts right here.”

“That feels discriminatory,” Robin said. Eddie nodded excitedly.

Steve just hung his head with a sigh.

The meeting wrapped up not long after, with rides arranged and meet-ups for later organised. Robin left with Nancy, Mike, Jonathan, and Will after threatening Steve into hanging out after their shift tomorrow (not that he really needed to be threatened), the other kids getting ferried home by Hopper.

Steve waved them all off and closed the front doors with a relieved sigh. Finally the house was quiet. Steve walked back to the living room, expecting Eddie to have started ransacking his movie collection only to find him still in his spot on the couch, looking paler than usual. His hand was clamped tightly over his mouth, eyes screwed shut and chest rising and falling in very slow, measured breaths. Something about it had the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck standing on end.

“Whoa, dude, you okay?” he asked, stepping closer. Eddie flinched hard.

“Just gimmie a sec.” Eddie’s words, muffled by his palm, were flat and forced.

Steve froze. “Sure, yeah, okay.”

Afraid to move, Steve stayed in that spot halfway to Eddie between the couch and the coffee table. Neither of them spoke. All Steve could hear was Eddie’s harsh breathing. After a few minutes his shoulders eased away from his ears, but he still hadn’t opened his eyes, or removed his hand.

“Can you, like, open the windows or something? Let some fresh air in?” His throat bobbed.

“Yeah.” Steve backed away, then opened the windows, doing his best to keep the blinds and curtains closed against the sun. Without moving closer, he asked, “Uh, that better?”

Eddie kept breathing slowly, but the tension around his eyes started to dissipate. He nodded.

“Thank–” Eddie cleared his throat. “Thanks, man.”

“Wanna tell me what that was about?”

It might’ve sounded a little accusatory, though Steve tried to rein that back. But some little animal instinct in him was still waving a whole field of red flags. Eddie looked like he’d been in pain, broken bone kinds of pain, and now that he wasn’t so wound up Steve could see that he was shaking.

“Been a while since I’ve been around so many people. And, uh, also been a while since I’ve had a drink.”

Steve was about to ask what he meant before it clicked. A drink, of blood. Oh shit.

“When was the last time you… did that?”

“Last week. It’s been too long. The night you showed up, Chrissy was coming by so we could, y’know.”

“Shit.”

Eddie chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, shit.”

“You can call her, it’s fine if she comes over.” He started to walk to the phone but Eddie shook his head, hand falling away from his mouth. He still hadn’t opened his eyes.

“She’s got cheer practice. And if she’s seen here? In broad daylight? And before you suggest animals, they can only keep me going for a few hours. I’ve tried it.”

Staring at Eddie, hunched on the couch and looking like a man on death’s door, Steve weighed their options. Well, the only one he could even consider at the moment. It didn’t take him long to do, and he pushed aside all the weird thoughts, surprises, and worries and buried it all under his desire to help and professional curiosity.

“Bite me.”

Eddie’s head snapped up. Finally, Steve noted with relief, his eyes were open.

Read chapter 5 now on ao3!

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #vamp!eddie #werewolf steve harrington #stranger things #steddie big bang #steddiebang #steddie big bang 2023 #steddiebang23 #hideous thing sbb #sav scrawls stuff

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letstalkaboutfandomsbaby · 1 year

Note

May I be so mumble as to suggest Nanami having the biggest crush on a plus size coworker? 🥺 💕 Just absolutely head over heels into plush breasts and thick hips and getting frustrated at her bra hooks getting stuck on her sweater while running his hand up her skirt. Slowly losing his composure as she teases him and kisses his neck whispering sweet nothings into his ear to tease him further as the heat grows between them 💞

Oh, honey, you give Kento too much credit. The man would barely be able to speak to you, let alone do something as scandalous as running his hand up your skirt.

But he does imagine it, what it'd be like to touch you, or to even be near you.

───────────────

He was a bit floored when you first started working at the office. To start, not a lot of women worked in the accounting field, so he was a bit surprised when you arrived. Not only that: he was also astounded at how lovely you were. Ample chest and plush hips, protruding belly and thick thighs—Nanami didn't know what to do with himself when he first saw all of you. He felt like he had walked into a Baroque painting, your body something out of a dream.

But he kept his distance. He was polite, as any senior worker should be, giving advice when asked and helping you as best he could, but he didn't go too far. He didn't let himself indulge in any fantasies at first, keeping himself tethered to reality. You two were coworkers, nothing more, nothing less.

Oh, but you made it so hard for him to stay strict and stoic. You kept smiling so sweetly at him, thanking him for his help, offering to repay his kindness with homemade treats. You were always greeting him with a wide grin in the mornings, offering to get him a coffee while you got your own. You made him feel warm and comfortable, breaking down the walls he had carefully crafted over the years.

Nanami was starting to realize his growing feelings for you, his heart starting to pound harder whenever you were around. He felt like a teenager, his hands getting clammy when you were too close, his throat going dry the longer you stood near him, your perfume ingraining itself into his memory. He thinks about your scent the rest of the day and into the evening, the thought of you keeping him up at night.

Shortly after he realizes how much he likes you, he starts to notice your body even more. Your soft, delicate hands, your endless curves, the plumpness of your jaw. He finds himself wondering how soft you really are, how your body would give underneath his touch, so much of you to caress and hold. Did your skin feel like cotton sheets? Would your lips feel like rose petals, the baby hairs on your cheek reminding him of a fresh peach? He wishes he could be bold and ask you out for dinner, hell, even grabbing a coffee together would do. He just wants to get close to you, learn more about you, become a part of each other's world. Would you want that too? Would you let him hold your hand and kiss you, steadying you with a hand on your waist? Would you let him explore every inch of your body, letting him kiss and lick and suck every crevice he can find? Would you moan his name and beg for him if he was buried inside you, thrusting into that warm, wet haven between your legs?

He scolds himself for letting his mind wander, focusing back on the task at hand. He shouldn't indulge himself like this; it wasn't fair to you. He reminds himself to keep his distance, to let you have your space. If fate shines on him, maybe he'll have the chance to court you. But until then, he will bide his time with numbers and accounts, waiting for the day when he can muster up the courage to ask you to be his.

───────────────

#ask #smut #nanami kento #☀️ asks

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writingwitharlo · 1 year

Text

A Secret Language

a/n: MY FIRST ST FIC!!! this took way longer than expected and is therefore a big chungus

anon: steve and eddie with “It’s been a while since you tickled me.” (33)

Tickle Trope Prompts

(Stranger Things; Steve, Eddie)

3845 words

CW: implied masturbation

Eddie liked to touch. This mostly applied to soothing any anxiety his body had no other way of expelling. Whether that was picking at the dry skin of his cuticle, twirling a strand of hair between his fingers, peeling off labels from beer bottles - the list was endless.

Eddie also liked to touch people. Not inappropriately, obviously. Just in small, casual ways. Little touches like elbows and shoulders and knees bumping together in close proximity, ruffling of hair, a pat on the shoulder - that list was equally endless.

Of course, he couldn’t just go around touching whoever he pleased and for a long time he didn’t even know how much he had craved that form of affection until new people entered his life like a stampede.

New people who didn’t think he was weird- Well, maybe they did, but they liked that about him. New people, who actually enjoyed spending time with him and valued his opinion. It was still an adjustment, not just for Eddie, who had to learn quickly that not everyone liked to be touched. But Eddie was a quick learner, and surprisingly observant.

So, he noticed the way Nancy always moved back when someone brushed up against her even just accidentally, maintaining a secure bubble of space for herself that she only allowed to be crossed on the rarest of occasions.

Eddie also noticed how Robin hated any touch that wasn’t completely obvious when it came. He had witnessed Steve sneaking up behind her on too many occasions not to notice. How her body visibly tensed when she sensed a presence behind her and the surprised yells she let out every single time, without fail. It took poor, oblivious Steve more than one scolding to realise that Robin did not appreciate his antics in the slightest before he finally stopped.

And then there was Steve. What didn’t Eddie notice about Steve? Perhaps he noticed too much for his own good. Steve, who had never pulled away from any of Eddie’s touches, whether he had planted them on purpose or without thinking. Steve, who let his leg relax enough so his knee bumped with Eddie’s whenever they sat beside each other. Steve, who would ask for hugs whenever a specific amount of beers was in his system. Eddie had counted them. It was eight.

Perhaps it was this mutual understanding that brought the two boys closer together as time went on. The understanding of how healing touch could be, how it could be its own secret language.

It took some time before their touches turned more playful, deliberately placed to draw out a reaction from the other. At first it were harmless shoves and nudges, which turned into messing up of caringly styled hair and tripping each other up when walking, which turned into headlocks and squabbles and ended with the addition of tickling.

The discovery had happened accidentally, at least that’s how Eddie remembered it. Stuck in a particularly secure headlock, Eddie was forced to grip onto Steve’s waist for balance which worked like a charm in releasing the headlock altogether. It wasn’t until Eddie had straightened up that he noticed Steve keeping his arms protectively close, wide-eyed with a grin tugging on the corner of his mouth.

From that day on, Steve easily became the victim of one of Eddie’s tickle attacks about three times a week. Even when Steve tried to fight back or make the first move, Eddie always managed to get the upper hand. Too quickly for Steve’s liking.

The attacks never lasted for long, at least not at first. But the longer their little game continued, the greedier Eddie became. There was this thrill he got from that kind of contact. Or was it just because the contact was with Steve?

To be fair, Eddie had not dared to tickle anyone other than Steve, besides Dustin on occasion. But that was different. Dustin needed to be reminded to respect his elders. Steve… Well, Steve just made it way too easy.

Eddie wouldn’t consider himself a skilled tickler. How could he? He had barely had any sort of physical contact with anyone for years. Steve would probably blame it on being a skilled guitarist or something like that, because nobody had ever taken him to pieces the way Eddie had. Not that he would ever say that to his face, of course.

Either way, Eddie craved more. More choked protests, more flailing limbs, more hearty cackles and frantic giggles, more heated cheeks and tears of mirth, more twitching muscle beneath his fingertips. It was addictive and the addiction was infuriating.

Eddie found himself lying awake at night, cheeks almost sore from smiling as he replayed the sound of Steve’s laugh over and over in his head. His fingers itched to draw out more of the heavenly sound, making him restless. Dragging his fingers over his own bare torso just wasn’t quite the same, even if it did still that craving for the time being.

It wasn’t until one autumn morning that Eddie awoke with a sensation that filled him with dread. There had only been about three occasions before where Steve’s laughter had followed Eddie into his dreams. But this time was different. And it was bad.

Eddie lay as still as possible, staring at a dark spot on the ceiling as if it would help. But it didn’t and he couldn’t bear the sensation any longer. Hesitantly, he moved his hand down his torso, following the light trail of hairs beneath his belly button until he reached the waistband of his boxers. His hand paused and after a slow, deep exhale, it plunged beneath the fabric.

The problem was taken care of in no time, Eddie’s brain filled with images of that pearly white grin and scrunched up nose until he was done. He was still catching his breath, cheeks lightly flushed as he cleaned up his mess before getting dressed, ready to pretend like none of that had actually happened.

Two more times Eddie pretended like nothing happened until the feeling of guilt and shame turned his stomach into knots. There was no denying it at that point. He had a big, fat crush on Steve Harrington.

It wasn’t right. He knew better. A touch was never just a touch. At least when it came to girls, that’s what he knew. So why should it be different with a guy? Nobody should think like that about their friend- their best friend. He didn’t know any best friends that acted the way he did with Steve. Not in that way. He cried when it happened the fourth time.

Practically overnight, it seemed that Eddie’s hands were sewn into his pockets. The colder, brisker weather was the perfect excuse and he didn’t think Steve would even notice anyway.

Steve noticed. Perhaps not right away but he did. He didn’t really complain when the regular tickle attacks were reduced to the occasional jab or pinch at first. When they disappeared completely, that’s when he noticed. When his hugs were no longer reciprocated and what was previously a lingering hand on his shoulder, was now a brief fistbump with his arm, that’s when he became worried.

But Steve wasn’t good at bringing up emotional stuff - it was something he was still working on - and he thought, hoped perhaps, that this behaviour was temporary. Three weeks passed until Steve’s patients broke.

“Hey, Ed?”

“Hm?”

“What’s been going on with you?”

“What do you mean?”

The Munson trailer was cosy and surprisingly warm considering the freezing temperatures Hawkins had been experiencing. Steve pulled one foot onto the lumpy couch, tucking it beneath the other thigh as he tapped some ash from the joint into a nearby ashtray.

Steve had practically invited himself over to Eddie’s, telling him something about his parents having some important business friends over and that he would rather be anywhere than at home. That they had been on his case even more than usual recently and that he needed to take a load off.

How was Eddie supposed to say no to that? He let him into the trailer, glad that it was already dark out and the lights in the trailer were dim so that any flushed cheeks could go unnoticed. He rolled a joint for Steve before settling back on the floor beside the coffee table where he had been before the unexpected intrusion, writing up a new DnD campaign.

Steve had watched in silence for a while, occasionally letting his gaze wander around the room to see if anything had changed. It felt like it had been ages since he was in the trailer last. Quiet music was playing from somewhere, something slow and calm.

They had passed the joint back and forth a couple times before Steve broke the silence. Weed made Steve honest, Eddie had noticed.

“I mean…” He paused to take another drag, holding the smoke to give him time to think before releasing it with an exhale. “You seem different. Feel like I’ve barely seen you recently. And when I do you’re…” He waved his hand a bit as he took another drag, making Eddie gaze up at him. “It’s like you’re barely there.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and held his hand out for his turn. Only Steve could make things sound so dramatic. “Well, I’m right here, Harrington,” he replied once he could take a drag of his own.

Steve huffed a bit at the reply and pulled his other foot up so he could sit criss-crossed, leaning forward so he could see some of what Eddie was working on. But the lights were too dim and his eyes blurred the letters anyway, so there was no point. He rubbed at his eyes as he leaned back, head tilted back against the backrest.

“It just-...” Steve took a slow breath. “It’s been a while since you tickled me.”

Eddie froze, gaze slowly lifting from the papers before him to the other boy, relieved to find him staring at the ceiling. It hadn’t been ‘a while’. It had been three weeks. That was ages, an eternity. “Okay,” he replied slowly, dragging the word out as if to imply for Steve to elaborate since he didn’t know what else he could say himself.

Of course Steve stayed silent and Eddie’s knee began to bounce beneath the table. “Are you-” No, these were dangerous waters. “Is this your way of telling me that you miss it?” He did his best to sound teasing, sarcastic, as if there was a smirk on his voice when there was only panic.

“Well… Yeah, kinda.”

Not the answer he was expecting. Shitshitshit. Steve lifted his head as he continued to talk but before his eyes could find Eddie’s, he was already focusing on his papers again, scribbling away as if he were writing real words.

“But other stuff, too. I mean… you’re all the way over there-”

“I can’t write from the couch,” Eddie argued quickly, which was the truth. It had not stopped him from abandoning his task to join Steve for a smoke in the past though. He seemed to remember the joint in his hand and took one last long drag to finish it off, holding the smoke in for as long as he could.

“Alright, well… You made Dustin sit between us when we went to see Star Trek.” Eddie could feel Steve’s eyes on him and he was becoming hot under his gaze. He did do that, there was no denying it.

“And you refused to get in the front seat when I dropped you off after your last DnD session. The last four DnD sessions, actually. And you know how much I hate having Max in the front.” Eddie lifted his head again, just as slowly as before only to find Steve pouting at him. Damn, he looked cute. Close to a petulant child but still cute.

Eddie’s face was hot from his neck all the way to his ears, which were luckily hidden by his hair.

“So, what is it?”

Eddie blinked. “What’s what?”

“What’s been going on with you?”

Eddie was backed into the corner and he could feel it. Shitshitshit. Fuck. His heart was racing faster than he would like and his hands were starting to become clammy. “N-Nothing.” He got to his feet, mumbling a quick ‘I need a drink’ as he shuffled over to the fridge.

The light cast a dim glow onto Eddie’s face and just for a few moments he closed his eyes, allowing the cooled air to hit his burning face before grabbing a can of coke. He shut the door, ready to turn back when he bumped into something solid beside him. Steve.

“Are you avoiding me?” There was something hurt in Steve’s voice and it broke Eddie’s heart.

“N-No.” His feet moved back slightly, the proximity too overwhelming for the moment. “I’m not avoiding you.” It was a lie. This time he was physically backed into a corner, the edge of the kitchenette counter making contact as he took another small step back.

Steve’s head tilted to the side, hands coming to rest on his hips. “Okay. Then what about all the things I just said? Because I didn’t make them up?” Curse Steve’s stubbornness.

Eddie tried to act casual, leaning back against the counter as he picked at the tab of the can, never even opening it. “It’s not-... I- I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.” That wasn’t a lie.

Steve frowned. At least Eddie imagened a frown in the pause that followed. He wasn’t exactly looking at Steve’s face. “What people?”

“You know, just-” He waved his hand uselessly. “People.”

There was another pause. “No. I don’t know.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head, about to head back over to the coffee table. “Just forget it-” But as he was about to take a step forward, so did Steve, forcing him back against the counter.

“Why won’t you tell me?” Eddie was expecting some annoyance but as his eyes flickered up to the face that was so much closer now, all he saw was hurt, and concern - creased brows and worry.

“I-... I uhm…” Eddie felt hot again. He swallowed and he was sure Steve could hear it. He wanted to look anywhere but at Steve but his eyes wouldn’t tear away. “I don’t-”

“I have ways of making you talk, you know?” Steve’s head tilted to the side again. The concern was fighting against something trying to take its place. And was that a smirk tugging on his lips?

“No, you don’t-” Before Eddie could even finish the words, the room was spinning. The coke slipped from his fingers as he yelped and it tumbled to the ground with a clatter. Blinking rapidly, he found himself looking down at two pairs of socked feet and the grubby tiles of the kitchen. “Steve- Agh!”

A noogie, really? They weren’t kids anymore. “Fuck off, man!” Was this his way of making him talk?

“I told you what I want.” This was certainly not how Eddie had imagined his night to go.

“Eat shit!” Eddie knew it was no use tugging on Steve’s arm. He was simply stronger. One thing Steve seemed to have forgotten was what happens when Eddie wants to get out of a headlock.

One hand slipped up his back so far as it could reach before moving to Steve’s exposed side while the other gripped onto Steve’s knee. It took him one second too many to realise what was about to happen. An indignant shriek, frantic giggles and a buckling leg later, the room was spinning again.

With a muffled thud, both boys hit the ground, their bodies entangled and piled on top of each other. Steve reached up to move his hair out of his eyes with a groan but was quick to snap his arm back down as vicious fingers formed a claw over his ribs.

“Nonono, Ed- Eddie!”

It seemed as though Eddie’s floodgates had been opened. The itch he had been denying to be scratched was gripping him, taking control of his hands as they seeked out the sensitive spots they remembered. One hand at his ribs, the other at his hip and Steve was howling.

Eddie had found a way to half straddle him and half lay on top of him, keeping him on his back despite his useless kicks and desperate protests. Steve’s free hand, the one not protecting his ribs, came up to grip at Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie figured it was an attempt to push him away but the laughter had Steve weak, as usual. So, of course he took his opening.

Steve’s back arched off the floor when the claw from his hip darted right into his armpit. He bucked his hips a couple times before his silent laughter rendered him useless. Only now did Eddie realise that he was laughing too, clearly enjoying his friend’s misery. His friend…

Eddie’s hands stilled suddenly and he moved to sit up, clearing his throat awkwardly. His whole body was burning, only this time he wasn’t sure if it was due to the proximity or the exertion. It didn’t matter. He moved to a crouch but before he could rise up, the room turned into a blur for a third time as something solid collided with him from behind.

With a grunt, Eddie landed face first in the worn down carpet beside the kitchen. Luckily, he had been able to catch most of his weight with his hands but before he got a moment to turn around and question the culprit, warmth settled against the back of his thighs. Eddie’s breath hitched and the counter attack began.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, Munson.”

Eddie was mainly surprised by the lack of breathlessness in Steve's voice, having expected him to take longer to recover. That’s all he really got to think about as those rapid squeezes focused right above the back of his knee, firing up the nerve endings all the way up his thighs. Not good. Very much not good.

“Fuck, Steve! Get off, I mean it!” He tried to sound as serious as he could but his own giggly voice was ruining that for him. Lucky for him, Steve hadn’t thought to pin him down or lay on top of him.

With a bit of a struggle, Eddie managed to flip onto his back, which ended the attack on his legs but opened up all the other spots he would have been able to protect otherwise. He wasn’t going down without a fight.

They grappled for a while, shouting for the other to give up while maintaining their own stubbornness. Steve got Eddie on his back more often, just because he was stronger. Eddie was more nimble, though. This time he brought one hand up between them, fluttering his fingers against Steve’s belly, where the fabric of his shirt hung loosely from his frame.

Steve yelped and flopped right on top of Eddie, who groaned quietly while still trying to get free and avoid the other’s questioning. It was useless.

“Why won’t you tell me?” They were the only words Steve had repeated over and over since the counter attack.

“Fuck off!” The heat in Eddie’s voice disappeared when a smile betrayed him, shoving at Steve to get him off.

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Munson, tell me!”

“Why are you so stupid?” Eddie grabbed either side of Steve’s face-

“Well, that’s just m- hmb.” and brought their lips crashing together.

Everything stopped. For all he knew, Hawkins and all of the world had been swallowed up by the Upsidedown after all. But when Eddie finally pulled away again, Steve was still right there, staring back at him with wide eyes. The skin beneath his fingers felt hot, so Eddie released him and scrambled to sit up. “That’s why.”

He can’t help the bitterness that seeps through as he gets up, brushing himself off before heading back over to the coffee table. He slumped back down on the floor, staring blankly at his scribbles as he waited for Steve to run out or come over to hit him or anything. Anything would be nice. Out of all the options he had, Eddie would not have put ‘laughing his ass off’ on the list.

Except, that was exactly what happened. It started with a couple chuckles at first and quickly grew to full on hysterics. Eddie’s brows furrowed together in confusion. He couldn’t see the other boy from his spot on the floor. All he could see was a mop of brown hair on the floor just past the counter.

“Eddie!” Steve called out when he got enough air in his lungs but Eddie refused to answer, just watching the mop of hair move until he was fully out of sight. There was a groan and an attempt at composure before Steve came into view again. Slowly, he lifted himself to his feet, gripping the counter for support as the occasional wave of laughter still shook through him, making it hard to stay upright.

“Eddie.” Steve wiped at his teary eyes before spotting the other over on the floor, slowly staggering over towards him.

Eddie tried to remain as still as possible despite his trembling, hoping silently that Steve might not see him and just decide to go home. He continued to hope even when Steve was already coming to crouch beside him.

Eddie’s brows stayed furrowed, eyes slightly widened as he tried to see as much as possible in the dim light. Steve just stared at him with that goofy grin of his, the one he only wore when he had given up on trying to stop smiling. “What?” Eddie asked, trying to sound annoyed or at least impassive.

Steve blinked, his head tilting to the side like a curious puppy with his warm eyes sparkling in the dark. “You’re an idiot.” Before Eddie could ask what he meant, lips were against his again, softer and less forced than his but still eager.

Eddie couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps he was too high to comprehend and it didn’t matter. All he knew was that Steve hadn’t run out or tried to beat him up but rather came back for more. There were so many unformed questions swirling around in his mind, all of which he refused to acknowledge as he gripped onto Steve’s shirt.

A loud bang made the two fly away from each other. They looked around, panicked and confused before realising what had happened. Their eyes met and this time, both of them fell into hysterical laughter, gripping the other for support as tears filled their eyes that were impossible to hold back.

The can of coke Eddie had dropped had chosen that exact moment to explode on them, the carbonation bursting through the weakened seal that Eddie had fiddled with.

Almost symbolically, with the release of the carbonation, all tension between the two boys had vanished.

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