#Escape from St. Hell | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

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battymommastuff · 3 months

Text

Of Songbirds and Phoenix

al Ghul!Batmom x Gotham Knights (CONTAINS SPOILERS FROM GOTHAM KNIGHTS!)

Prompt: After the death of Bruce Wayne, his wife had vanished from the city, and only returns when she knows her children are in danger.

When Wayne Manor blew up and Bruce Wayne had been pronounced dead, one of the biggest questions was the outcome of his wife. Y/n Wayne was at the manor the night it blew up, but her body had never been recovered. The wonderful investigators at GCPD brushed it off under the excuse that your body had been completely blown up. A bullshit reason, but they were too lazy to do an in depth investigation. Your family however, worried that your body had been buried under the rubble in the now destroyed batcave.

Fortunately for them...everyone was wrong. Days leading up to your husband's death, he sent you away to investigate his latest case. The Court of Owls. A conspiracy theory that he believed to be true, and so he sent you overseas to investigate some other claims of this infamous cult. The conspiracy only detailed members from Gotham's wealthiest families, but he wanted to be thorough. Your investigation led you to your twin sister, Talia al Ghul. You figured out her plan at the same time that your children had, and you didn't hesitate on making your way back to Gotham.

Talia's plan to take over Gotham had been foiled, all while you watched from a distance. It was Bruce's wish. He wanted his family to be able to take care of Gotham should he perish, and wanted them to have the chance to thrive. You granted that wish by watching your children from the shadows. They were trained well because several times they turned in your direction or almost caught you.

Tonight, Bruce's wish wouldn't be met. You'd been stalking Robin since he left the Belfry. He was on a routine patrol. Take down the bad guys and protect the city. What he didn't notice were the several League of Shadow members tailing him. You noticed right away. They were using the same methods you were. Talia's doing no doubt. She wanted revenge, and would ambush your youngest son to get it.

Robin had just finished the takedown of some Freaks when several puffs of smoke appeared all around him. He wasn't a stranger to an ambush from the league, but this was more than he was used to. Luckily he wasn't alone. Using his bo staff and sling shot, he quickly darted around taking down members of the League. However, it seemed that the more they took the...the more that appeared.

"Get down, little bird!" A voice called out. Robin ducked down without hesitation and heard the sound of metal flying through the air then a scream of pain. Looking up, a shuriken was embedded in the chest of a league member. A female dropped down in front of Robin, wielding two beautiful katana's in her hands, "Talia?" He asked, in confusion. The figure turned towards him and he paled, "M-Mom?"

"What the hell did you just say?" The voice of Red Hood spoke through the comms. Robin couldn't answer, all he could do was watch as you skillfully took down the League of Shadows members. When the last member went down, you sheathed your blades and made your way over to Robin, "Little bird? Are you injured?" You asked while kneeling down in front of him. His mask didn't have the white lenses so you saw how watery his eyes were, "M-Mom?" He whispered in disbelief. He'd been mouring you as well as Bruce for weeks now. Knowing that he wouldn't relax until you proved that he wasn't dreaming, you wrapped your arms around him. Robin collapsed against your chest with loud sobs escaping his chest. That was the confirmation that the rest of the team needed. You were alive.

After calming down enough to drive, Robin drove you both back to the Belfry on the bike. He held your hand in a death grip from the moment you stepped off of the bike. Tim had been so torn up about losing his parental figures that he wasn't planning on letting you go anytime soon. The doors opened, and you hesitantly stepped in. There you saw what remained of your family.

Dick looked like he wanted to cry and pass out at the same time

Alfred was holding back his tears behind a relieved smile

Barbara had a few tears slipping from her eyes, but kept trying to wipe them away.

Jason was staring holes into the ground. He couldn't bring himself to look at you.

Dick was the first one to walk towards you, "You're really here?" He asked so softly, you almost didn't hear him. He gently touched your face, hair and shoulders. If anyone had been mouring you harder than Tim, it was Dick. You'd raised him since he was eight years old. He dug through piles of rubble with his bare hands looking for you, and here you were. Completely unharmed.

"I'm here, my songbird." Dick wrapped his arms around you, nearly crushing you against his chest. Tim let go of your hand to give you this moment with your oldest son. Dick was the leader of this team. Batman's chosen successor. The one who was supposed to be the strongest, and yet he fell apart once he hugged his mother. He didn't have to be the strongest with her. He could be that eight year old boy again. The one that ran to her whenever he had a nightmare. The one who would gush over him and mend all of his wounds from his time as Robin, "How are you here? We thought you died?" He asked, pulling away from you.

"Bruce sent me away to investigate the Court. They originate here in Gotham, but he heard rumors of other sightings in the middle east as well as the UK. He wanted this to be as covert as possible. That's why he told Tim I left for a business trip for Wayne Enterprises. If the world thought I was dead, then I could continue my investigation from the shadows." You were an al Ghul by blood. You were raised as a killer and taught to use the shadows to your advantage. Before his death, Bruce made you swear to never take another life while with him. Now that he was gone...you had no one to keep the vow to.

Alfred and Barbara joined Dick with several tear filled hugs and questions. Tim was glued to your side, only leaving to change out of his suit, "Why did you come back?" You turned away from Barbara to look over at Jason. His jaw was clenched, and his arms crossed over his chest, "You didn't bother to reach out after Bruce's death, so why bother now?" Everyone, but you had glares on their faces.

"My phoenix, I wanted to reach out. The moment I heard of Bruce's death, I wanted nothing more than to be right here with you all. I stayed away as a promise to Bruce. I'm glad I did. You all did so much more than what I could have. I'm so proud of you all. Especially you, Jason."

Watching this big brute of a man melt at the words from a woman much smaller than him was a funny sight. Jason visibly relaxed and you wrapped him up in a warm hug. He hugged you back tightly, and let out a shaky breath.

"I missed you, Mom. So much."

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

!!!Author's Note!!

Sorry for going MIA for so long. I have been very busy, but I am hopefully going to be back in action soon. I've been working on a new series for this blog that I'm excited to present to you all! Enjoy this little imagine, and I hope to see you all very soon! <3 ~ Batty

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lxkeee · 2 months

Text

CHAINED BY DESIRES

-SMUT [2/2]

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Sinner! Fem! Reader

Genre: Romance & Smut

Warnings: Lucifer owns your soul in this one. P in V sex, slight choking (chains as round your neck), dom/switch Lucifer, fingering, orgasm denial, praises (reader receiving), consensual sex, unprotected sex.

Notes: this is 3k of pure smut. So minors do not interact.

PART ONE | NAV.

“Please... [Y/n], I need you.” Lucifer pleaded, desperate to feel all of her. “As you wish...” she whispers, equally desperate to feel him, caressing his cheek, a suggestive smile on her face, “—my king.” she purred as she finally gently pushed him back down to his bed, catching the King of Hell off guard.

Lucifer's rosy red cheeks turned into a darker shade of red, hot, he feels incredibly hot. He could suddenly feel everything, the loud thumping of his heart, his and her heavy breathing, the softness of her skin against his cheek, the increasingly growing arousal on his pants. How she straddled his lap and grinded on his growing erection, causing a whine to escape his lips.

[Y/n] grinned, a suggestive smirk on her face as she listened to the delicious whines that left Lucifer's lips. His head was thrown back on to the pillow, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down his moans, “[y/n] please... Stop being such a tease...” he begged, stammering as whimpers left his lips.

[Y/n] raises an eyebrow at him, clearly enjoying herself. Why wouldn't she? The king of hell, the apple of her eye is beneath her whimpering and begging more of her to do more to him. She grins, “Do you want me to stop? Okay, I'll stop.” she purrs, stopping herself from grinding against his crotch, making the man underneath her whine pathetically.

Lucifer whined from the loss of friction, ruby red eyes staring up at her, half-lidded with lust and adoration, “You're cruel.” he pouted playfully making the woman above him giggle, [y/n] places a finger over his lips—shushing him playfully, “But you loved it.”

Lucifer sighs, a smirk on his face as he pushes himself up with the support of his elbows, his face dangerously close to hers, “I do, I really do.” he admits hoarsely, eyes half-lidded with lust. Their chests are pressed together, they can feel each other's heartbeats—how erratic and loud it is thumping against their ribcages. [Y/n] presses her forehead against his, her warm breath fanning his face slightly, “Kiss me like you need me, Lucifer.” she purred, her hand caressing his neck up to his jawline, making him hitch his breath, choking on a moan.

[Y/n] chuckles at his reaction, though it was cut short as she felt his hand behind her neck and pushed her down on him for a kiss, his elbows no longer supporting his body as his back finally hit the mattress once more, “Hmmph—!” She yelped slightly against his lips.

She instinctively closed her eyes as she allowed Lucifer to claim her lips, a soft moan escaping her lips which Lucifer eagerly captured it with his own. His thumb caressed her cheek, his other hand holding her waist and pulling her body even closer to his.

[Y/n] could feel the oblivious bulge that rubs in between her thighs, she whined into the kiss, her hands slowly unbuttoned his white coat, causing Lucifer to groan, “Eager are we?” he purrs teasingly, parting away from her lips for a brief moment.

[Y/n] giggled, “Only for you.” she replied and he smirked before pulling her down for a kiss once more, his snake-like tongue licking her bottom lip asking for permission in which she gladly permitted him.

Tongues tangled with one another, moaning against each other's lips as they hungrily kissed each other. Almost seven years of bottling their feelings finally spilled forth. Their touches on each other's skin igniting it aflame with passion.

“Can I undress you...?” he asked, voice almost desperate as he parts away from her lips, “Please...?” he asked, almost a whine.

[Y/n]'s breath hitched ever so slightly, a warm and fluttery feeling on her stomach, “Yes, please do,” she whispers, stammering slightly before their lips met once more.

Their hands eagerly began to undress each other. Hands shaking, small moans and giggles escape their lips as they kissed. One by one clothes were discarded off their bodies and thrown haphazardly out of the bed and down to the floor.

Lucifer's breath hitched, his eyes half-lidded, his rosy red cheeks darkening even more as he stared at the woman above him. The soft glow of the chandelier highlighted her flushed bare skin, his eyes lowered down to her chest, causing him to look away flustered.

[Y/n] smirked, not used to seeing him be so flustered. She places a hand underneath his chin, tilting his head back to look at her, “Focus on me.”

‘Goodness, when did she become so straightforward?’ he asked himself, very flustered.

“God, you're so beautiful...” he breathes out, holding her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing her knuckle gently.

Blood rushes up to [Y/n]'s cheeks as she hears his praise, flustered from his words and also flustered at the fact she could feel his throbbing length in-between her thighs. She's too flustered to look down on his body.

She chuckles, a breathy giggle coming out of her lips, “Coming from the most beautiful angel of creation? A highest compliment I'll ever receive.” she purrs and Lucifer smiled, showing off his pristine sharp teeth, “There's a lot more of that came from, I'll make sure to shower you with compliments.” he purrs.

[Y/n] giggled, holding his hand and bringing it to her chest, allowing his palm to touch her breast, “Touch me, please...?” she says, breathless, Lucifer's breath hitched, the room suddenly became even hotter.

Lucifer allowed his hand to massage her breast, thumb rubbing and teasing her nipple causing [Y/n] to silently moan, her hand covering her mouth. The delicious sounds she was making was causing him to throb, his length throbbing with need.

“Don't hide those beautiful sounds you're making, let me hear them love.” he whispers, his other hand holding her hand—that was covering her mouth—and moved it away from her lips.

[Y/n] panted, whimpers escaping past her plump red lips as Lucifer played with her chest, she felt his hand on her back, pushing her down and allowing himself to put his lips around her breast.

Blood rushes all over her body as pleasure courses through her veins, goosebumps dancing on her skin. A whine leaving her lips as she could feel his snake-like tongue swirling around her sensitive bud.

Lucifer closes his eyes as he enjoys himself pleasuring her, making sure both of her breasts receive the same treatment.

“Lift your hips for me, love.” he murmurs against her skin, causing [Y/n] to whimper but obediently obeyed. Lifting her lips slightly, holding on to his shoulders for support.

A sharp inhale is what she did, legs trembling as she felt the stimulation that came from his mouth on her and the stimulation of his fingers running through her slicked folds.

Lucifer grinned, already felt how wet she is for him. Her slick coated his slender fingers, “Look how aroused you are for me,” he purred, his finger immediately finding her clit, putting a delicious pressure on the sensitive bud, circling the pad of his thumb on it. She grinded on to his hand, causing him to smirk, “You're not allowed to move unless I tell you so, got it?” he asked, his voice smooth and filled with need, yet stern. She nodded frantically.

He continued his ministrations, finally slipping a finger to her entrance. [Y/n] gasped sharply, her legs trembled in pleasure as she tried to keep her hips lifted into the air.

Lucifer grinned, thrusting his long and slender finger into her tight entrance, he could feel her gummy walls hugging his digit causing him to chuckle, “Good girl, keep your hips up for me okay? Can you do that?” he asked with a smirk and [y/n] nodded, “Mhmm... Yes, yes...” she moaned pathetically.

He added another digit, easily slipping it inside, “So wet and warm for me...” he purred, scissoring his fingers to stretch and prepare her properly. [Y/n]'s toes curled up in pleasure, her hands gripping into his shoulders for dear life as her legs trembled.

“Lucifer... Stop teasing me...” she whined, accidentally rolling her hips against his hand.

Lucifer smirked, summoning the chain around her neck, the golden chain that connected to his hand. He tugged it, causing her to be slightly lunged forward—downward rather, close to his. The action causing sensual and pathetic whines leaving her lips, she loves it.

Lucifer gripped the chain, rough yet not enough to hurt her, his eyes narrowed at her flushed face, a smirk on his face, “What did I ordered you not to do?” he asked, leaning to her ear, [Y/n] swallowed thickly, shuddering at his tone. Still trying not to moan as his fingers never stopped thrusting in and out of her cunt.

“N-not to move...” she sputtered out, quite pathetically. Lucifer smirked, wondering where the confidence she had earlier went, “And what did you do?” he asked, smugly. Still holding on to the chain, “I moved...” she stammered.

Lucifer chuckled, “You naughty girl...” he purrs, rolling the chains around his hand as he pulls her even closer—dangerously close to his face.

“Naughty girls who don't do as they're told, need a little punishment to get them in line.” he smirked and [Y/n] gulped, both from nervousness and excitement, “I am going to remind you who you belong to, do you want that?” Lucifer asked, whispering to her ear, [y/n] whimpered, a small whine leaving her lips.

“Good girl, if it's too much say the word apple okay?” he says softly and she nodded, “Use your words, love.” he says sternly and she looked at him with a half-lidded gaze, filled with lust and trust, “Yes, I will say apple if it's too much.” she says, almost a whisper and he smiled, “Good.”

A pathetic sobbed escape her lips as she was denied from orgasm for... She lost count, somehow their positions switched with her now underneath him as he continues to thrust his fingers inside her swollen cunt, “Luci please...” she whined, whimpering from overstimulation, Lucifer tilted his head in confusion, his fingers snugged comfortingly around her gummy walls, a grin on his face.

“Please what?” he cooed, kissing away her tears. His back stinging in slight pain from the scratches of her nails but he doesn't mind the slightest.

She sobbed, “Please let me cum...” she pleaded and he hummed, giving her forehead a little kiss, “Since you begged so nicely and it seems you've learned your lesson. I suppose you earned it.” he smirked, finally slipping out his fingers from her core, his fingers glistening with her slick causing him to smirk, she whined from the loss of his fingers from her cunt. Straddling her lap as he admired his fingers, causing [Y/n] to blush.

He brought forth his hand to his mouth, making sure to keep an eye contact with her as he sucked his own fingers, tasting her essence on his tongue.

[Y/n] watches him with wide eyes, her breathing quickened as she watches him erotically sucked his fingers.

He released his fingers from his lips with a pop, a teasing grin on his face, “Absolutely delectable, something I can't get enough of.” he says with a smirk, admiring how her cheeks reddened even more but he can't be a hypocrite, he knows and feels how red his own cheeks were too.

She avoided his gaze, he smiled as he placed his hand underneath her chin, tilting her head to look at him. My, how the tables have turned.

“You're such a tease.” [Y/n] pouted slightly, Lucifer chuckles.

“Payback for being naughty.” he says smugly and she playfully rolls her eyes at him, “I've been good to you, please stop teasing me...” she begged and he hummed, pretending to think, “Is this your first time?” he asked with a slight hum and she nodded shyly.

A smile found its way to his face, “I'll make sure to be gentle then.” he says, summoning a bottle of lubricant out of thin air and popping the bottle open.

[Y/n] watched in awestruck, watching him apply some lube to his length, her eyes widening as she finally realized his girth and length—she finally knew where the rest of his height went.

Lucifer saw her awestruck gaze, he chuckled as he placed the bottle of lube into the bedside table, giving his lover an assuring smile, “Tell me if it hurts or if it's too much. Your pleasure is my priority, understand?” he says sternly and [Y/n] nodded shyly, he sighs, “Use your words darling, what was the safe word?” he asked.

“Apple.” she answered softly and he nodded, “Good girl, remember to use it when you want me to stop okay?” he asked, using his hand wot swept away the strands of her falling hair out of her face, some of it sticking to her forehead.

“Yes..” she replied while nodding and Lucifer smiled, “It will hurt at first but tell me when to move.” he says and she nodded.

Lucifer inhaled a sharp breath, aligning his length to her entrance before gently sinking himself inch-by-inch inside her.

[Y/n] let out a sharp gasp as she felt him stretched her open, her back arching slightly in pain. Lucifer noticed her discomfort and decided to kiss her gently on the lips to distract her, his thumb wiping away her tears while his other hand held her waist.

[Y/n] tries to kiss back, trying to distract herself from the delicious yet painful stretch his length gave her, her toes curling in pleasure and pain as she finally felt him slide the rest of him in her. Skin against skin, causing her to gasp as he finally sheathes himself fully inside her.

Lucifer groaned as he finally slid the rest of him inside, her tight walls clenching around him making him whine softly against her lips before peppering kisses around her throat, “Are you okay...? Do you want me to stop...?” he asked worriedly and [Y/n] shakes her head no, “I'm fine, just give me a moment to adjust please.” she says softly, choking on a whine.

Lucifer nodded, remaining still as possible despite wanting to move. He'll give her time to adjust around him.

[Y/n] took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. When she finally felt the pain was manageable, she held Lucifer's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, “You can move now...” she says shyly and Lucifer smiled, kissing her forehead and nodded to her.

Lucifer began to roll his hips, gently thrusting in and out of her, length sliding out and eventually sinking back in, deep. This caused [Y/n] to let out a needy moan and a pathetic whine from Lucifer as he nuzzled his head at the crook of her neck.

He started off slow, gentle, and sensual, making sure she's comfortable and slowly getting used to this. His mind is constantly fighting with itself, fighting the urge to suddenly become rough with her.

“So wet for me.. l-look h-how easy I slide in and out of you, l-love...” he praises in between choked needy moans, his hips never stopping it's thrusts, his praise causing [Y/n] mewl softly, her hands gripping to his back for dear life. Her sharp nails scratched his pale and blemish free skin. He slightly groaned in pleasure at the sting, his hips never stopped rolling against hers. Slowly increasing his pace.

The bed creaked, their moans and pants filled his bedroom as they made love to each other. Almost seven years of fantasizing about this moment, they finally have it and experienced it.

Each thrust he made almost made him come undone, he's desperately trying to hold on as long as he could, trying to lengthen the moment. His hand squeezed hers in each thrust, whimpers and desperate whines left his lips. It's been seven years since he felt this kind of intimacy so he's feeling everything of her in great lengths.

“[Y/n], [Y/n], [Y/n], [Y/n]...” he whined her name, hips stuttering occasionally as he thrusted, loud squelching sounds filled the room as he thrusted. [Y/n] can no longer form coherent thoughts or words, babbles and moans were the only things coming out of her lips, whining and mewling his name.

Lucifer's moans got louder and louder as they approached their climax, it's increasingly hard to continue, “[Y-y/n... I'm so close, 'm gonna cum...” he whined against her shoulder and [Y/n] can feel a knot forming in her stomach, warm fluttery feeling filled her stomach as she too felt like she was about to burst, “Lucifer, Lucifer, L-Lucifer, I'm s-so s-so cl-close...” she chanted out like a prayer, her voice raising a pitch from pleasure.

He bit her shoulder slightly, not enough to draw blood or hurt her, he can feel himself getting closer and closer, “'m gonna cum, gonna cumgonnacumgonnacum... I'm cummi—!” he whined against her skin as his hips stuttered, shooting thick load of his essence inside her.

[Y/n] can feel warmth inside her, causing her to moan loudly, her hands gripped into his skin as she finally orgasmed for the first time.

Lucifer presses his forehead against hers, both of them trying to catch their breaths. A toothy smile appeared on his face as he chuckled, he gave her a gentle kiss on the lips which caused her to smile through the kiss, “That was amazing, you were amazing...” he said, breathless and panting and she chuckled, “You were amazing too...” she whispers and he just giggled.

“Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, didn't I?” he asked worriedly and she shakes her head, a smile on her face, “No, no you did not.” she says with a whisper and he grinned, “Thank goodness... I thought I was too rough and hurt you.” he says with a slight frown.

“I'm alright, love. In fact, you were amazing. Thank you for being my first time.” she says shyly and his rosy red cheeks darkened, “It was an honor too, thank you so much for trusting me.” he says softly, caressing her cheeks. She nuzzled her face against the palm of his hand, “Thank you, too.”

He smiled at her, finally pulling out of her. His thick essence drips out of her, causing him to blush, he cleared his throat, “I'll go prepare the bath for us.” he says and kisses her forehead, he giggles, “I love you.” she says and his eyes softened, "I love you too.” he replied and kissed her hand before going to the bathroom to prepare the bath for the both of them. [Y/n] smiled, thankful for her decision which caused her to find the love of her life. He too is thankful for finding her. A weird romance but they certainly made it work, so all's well that ends well.

TAGLIST:

@adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkkitten @selvyyr @froggybich @brithedemonspawn @kottenox @totallymitya @many-fandoms-lover @dou-dou @mezzyb0nb0n @n1chxyaaenthusiast @cherry-4200 @koirb @galaxyj3lly @crystalplays28 @luleck @scootinonyourmom @rory-cakes @mixplara @crescent-z @bitchyzombienacho @kalisha2004 @altervex @nehy019 @napbatata @kouyoumarryme @sxgacxbe @kooidoom @yukichan67 @apple-pop @akiralovespenguins @storydays @kaurochika @amphiroxx @lil-writer-523 @punching-pentagrams @moonlovers34 @akiqvq @the-attention-whore @asmodeussimpnumber1 @viannasthings @soft-enbee @stormz369

#hazbin hotel #lxkeee updates #lucifer morningstar #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar x reader smut #lucifer x reader hazbin #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader smut #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you

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griffintail2 · 2 months

Text

Wolf in Duck's Clothing

Summary: A small child sinner tries to navigate her way through Hell.

Pairings: Lucifer x Child!GN!Reader

Warnings: None that I know of but it's Hazbin, we'll find them eventually.

This is a part one for now to test out the new writing grounds! Hope you enjoy! ♥

Part 2

-------

Sinners couldn’t have children in Hell. It was common knowledge. So, an actual child running around hell was rare.

For a child to be there, they had to be a Hellborn or…the most rare choice, they were a sinner themselves.

There were some that took in the rare little sinners. However, there were a few that continued to wander the streets. Alone and helpless. It was how (Y/N) got into the situation they were in.

Ducking between legs and slipping through the crowd, their breath came out quickly as they looked back to see their pursuer still following, but falling behind. They needed to hide. Alleys were obvious and usually, more trouble than they were worth, inside another building was even more reckless.

Then they spotted hedges surrounding a large home. The big bushes might be dying, but it would be enough to slip into. Quickly, they slipped through the crowd, diving through the hedge to hide beyond it. On the other side, the large home stood in its glory along with a neglected garden in front of it.

Holding their breath, they watched the hedge, waiting to see if their pursuer followed but breathed with relief when a minute passed and the hedge didn’t move from any disturbance. They waited a few more minutes before they’d make their hasty escape from the land they had stumbled upon. Looking around, (Y/N) could imagine how beautiful the garden might have once been.

The pretty colors and life that would have flourished in the dark place. There was one living plant, making them wonder slightly closer in curiosity. A large tree that still stood…

“You’re trespassing.” A voice spoke behind them.

The small child, jumped, giving a small scream as they turned, clutching onto the stolen goods they had in their arms. Behind them, a man with pale white skin, red cheeks, and hair hiding under a large hat looked down at them with crossed arms.

Lucifer stared at the small sinner. Their form was one of a wolf’s, their ears currently pointed back and tail pressed close to them as they stared up at him in fear. In their arms, he spotted a few bits of food. Bread, cans of something, and…apples. He stood straighter.

“Did you take from the tree?” He growled.

“W-What?” They looked at the tree seeing it was indeed an apple tree. “No! I’m-I’m sorry sir! I-I didn’t mean to come h-here.”

He scoffed. “Then what are you doing here if not to steal?”

“I-I was hiding…” Tears welled up in their eyes and Lucifer looked confused. “I-I’m sorry, I did st-steal, but not from you…I st-stole this food from the store.”

Now Lucifer was utterly baffled. They were confessing their wrongdoings? Why weren’t they lying, they’re a sinner. He stared at their terrified form trying to figure them out. When he’d seen them from his office window, he'd confidently assumed that they were just a short adult sinner. But…

“How old are you?” He asked.

“…Eight.” They muttered.

He sighed deeply as he looked away from them. An actual child. He knew there were children, sinners, he’d just never met one during his centuries, not that he went out much to have the chance to meet one.

“Where are your parents or the people taking care of you?” He huffed.

They looked around, sputtering. “I, um-Well I—”

“Any time now.” He waved his hand.

“…I’m-I’m taking care of me.” They muttered.

He once more stood in confusion. They were on their own? But he looked them over again. Ratty, torn clothes, food they stole in their arms, on their own to begin with.

He crossed his arms again, gripping them as he stared at the small child, making them squirm in place.

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, before walking to the house. “Come on.”

“W-What?” They sputtered.

“Come on, in the house.” He motioned to it as he looked back. “I need to find somewhere to bring you and I don’t know where to start. So come inside so I can figure it out.”

They stared in shock before quickly scampering after him. He sighed as he led them in. He wasn’t fond of sinners by any means. He hated his own subjects. But the father side of him couldn’t just leave a child out on their own to fend for themselves. He’d find somewhere to send them so he could be done with it.

“Thank you, sir.” They muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled.

#child reader #lucifer magne x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader

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metalhoops · 1 year

Text

// Read Part 1 Here // Read Part 2 Here //

“Can you believe that bullshit, Stevie?” Eddie questioned, from his spot in Steve’s lap.

The two were together on the Munsons’ beaten-up couch. Steve’s day had dragged on like bare feet in river mud. As far as he could gather, Eddie’s had been the same. The room was hot with the ghost of summer, despite it being mid-March. Eddie’s hair between Steve’s fingers was soft and fizzed.

“Can I believe that Lucas refused to ditch the championship game for your fantasy club, that could be rescheduled? Yeah,” Steve paraphrased, feeling Eddie sit slightly as he craned his head to get a better look at Steve.

“You’re on his side, aren’t you?” Eddie mumbled, discontent clear in his voice. Steve didn’t like it. He hummed and leaned down to place a chased kiss on Eddie’s lips.

“You’re not meant to be on his side,” Eddie grumbled, laying back down.

It was rare that the two disagreed. The disagreement had to be big enough to get a rise out of Steve, but if the situation called for it, he’d put his foot down.

“It’s a big deal for him,” Steve reasoned, watching Eddie’s jaw clench.

He’d gotten to know the boy well enough over the past few months. He knew what would come next. If he didn’t act soon, he’d have to sit through a monologue on the sanctity of the game and Lucas’ betrayal at having chosen sports over his friends. Steve didn’t mind the rants. He liked that Eddie was passionate. He did, but Eddie was right. Steve was on Lucas’ side.

“I know this is a big deal for you, too. Getting to the end of the game or whatever, but can’t you just do it another day? It’d mean the world to the kid,” Steve reasoned.

He knew by the rounding of Eddie’s shoulders and the elongated groan that escaped his lips that he’d won.

“Fine, I’ll postpone a week, but you owe me big time. Next date you’re paying.”

Steve didn’t argue. Hell, he liked paying for Eddie. The guy normally wouldn’t have a bar of it.

“Wipe that smug smile off your face, Harrington. I get to pick what we do. I’m going to drag you to the loudest concert this side of the Mississippi the first chance I get.”

Steve nodded, twisting Eddie’s fraying curl between his fingertips.

“In the meantime, I was thinking of heading to the game,” Steve proposed.

Eddie groaned. He knew Steve too well. He knew what was coming next.

“You’re going to drag my ass to the basketball game, aren’t you?”

Eddie sat, switching to the far side of the couch to show his displeasure at the idea. However, he threw his feet in Steve’s lap, so he knew they were okay.

He thought they were okay.

“Lucas will want you to be there.”

“You know we can’t actually go together without people talking,” Eddie noted as Steve drove his thumb into the heel of the boy’s foot absentmindedly.

“I don’t care,” Steve stated.

He meant it. He’d given up on trying to be Hawkins’ golden boy years before. He just wanted to be the type of person he could live with.

“Maybe I do,” Eddie spoke, stopping Steve cold.

Steve worried. He always goddamn worried. Yes, he was waiting for the day he lost someone he cared about to the hell dimension, but it was more than that. He also worried about mundane stuff, like Eddie waking up and deciding they were bullshit. He’d been so sure he and Nancy were in love up until the second she told him they weren’t. That was a blow he wasn’t sure he’d ever heal from.

He must have gone too quiet, sat stock, still in the growing silence. Eddie sat up and tugged at the hem of Steve’s shirt until he lay down beside him. The two were crushed uncomfortably close, side by side. Eddie’s knee was tucked between Steve’s legs. Eddie touched Steve’s face. It was something only he could get away with. If it were anyone else, he would hate it.

“Not what I meant,” Eddie spoke, implicitly knowing where Steve’s train of thought had headed.

“I just meant, I care because I know if any dick head in town had enough brain cells to put two and two together, we’d be screwed,” Eddie began, taking a deep breath. Steve settled back, bracing himself for the monologue.

“Your parents would kick you out. Then the town would try to run me out with pitchforks. I’m not saying we’ll never... you know. I’m just saying we’ve gotta be smart about it. When I’m done with high school and we save up enough money to have an escape plan for when things go to shit, then we can toss around the idea of going to stupid basketball games together.” Steve sighed but nodded, understanding Eddie’s point of view.

Sometimes Steve got sick of being cautious. He got sick of waiting for other people to change their minds about something that didn’t have anything to do with them. He’d had some good goddamn sense knocked into him. He wished someone would do the same for everyone else.

“We can hang out after the game. I’ve got something to do first, but I’ll swing around your place after ten.” Eddie proposed.

Steve didn’t ask what Eddie was doing. If Eddie wanted him to know, he would’ve told him, and despite Steve’s many hang-ups, he trusted Eddie as much as he could trust anyone.

“Ten works,” Steve agreed.

The afternoon faded. Steve left Eddie to go to the game. He watched with his gaggle of kids by his side, glancing down at Robin in the marching band when her high school crush took to the stage with a shit-eating grin. He wanted to be there with Eddie, but this was a good consolation. He was sure he’d have bruises on his side by morning from Dustin constantly elbowing him in the side every time Lucas got the ball.

He was so damn proud of Lucas for scoring the winning point. Though Steve would admit, he’d have been proud of the kid if they’d lost by a mile. He was learning what love was about, love without contingencies. Eddie, Robin and the kids were teaching him the lessons he’d never picked up from his parents.

He got back to his place around nine, took a shower and switched on a mindless T.V. re-run to fill the silence while he waited for Eddie. He was two episodes deep when he felt the familiar sensation of dread begin to well in the pit of his stomach.

Eddie was two hours late when Steve’s worry shifted to full-blown panic. He tried to tell himself everything was fine, that Eddie got caught up and he’d walk through the door any minute. He picked up his bat from beneath his bed and paced the halls like an animal in an enclosure.

It was three in the morning when Steve resigned himself to the fact that Eddie wasn’t coming. He called the Munsons at the god-awful hour of the night, hoping beyond hope that Eddie would pick up. He’d be pissed off at Steve for waking him up, but then he’d let him know what was going on.

He didn’t answer.

Maybe Steve had read things wrong. Maybe he and Eddie had a fight. They were fighting. That’s why Eddie hadn’t shown up.

He lay in bed until the light of morning thawed his bones and set him free from his wide-eyed, paralytic state of unrest. Instead of heading to work, he drove to the trailer park, swerving the Beamer off the dirt track as the blue lights painted the horizon. There was a swarm of cop cars parked outside Eddie’s trailer. Steve’s body moved of its own accord, rushing through the swarm of cops to find Wayne Munson smoking at the picnic benches, a nearly imperceptible tremor to his fingers.

Steve didn’t ask what happened. Not right away. His mind was full of worst-case scenarios, none of which could be true until they were spoken into existence. For now, everything was unknown. For now, there was a chance Eddie was safe. He let his legs buckle beneath him as he sat beside Wayne, wondering when he’d made a habit of having panic attacks with Munson men near picnic benches.

“Was Eddie with you last night?” Wayne asked between drags of the cigarette.

Steve shook his head.

Eddie had told Wayne about them. Steve had sat across the breakfast table from the man half a dozen times, but they’d never really talked without Eddie in the room.

“Was he meant to be?” With a defeated sigh, Steve nodded.

“What happened?” He asked, at last, tired of drawing out the inevitable.

“I came home from my shift and there was a body.” All the colour fell from Steve’s face.

“Not Eddie’s. Some girl. Cops are sayin’ they think he killed her. I reckon we both know that ain’t true.” Steve didn’t know what to do with that information. Eddie was alive.

He listened to Wayne describe the scene with a growing feeling of dread. He’d seen enough of the Upside Down to understand that an eyeless girl, broken and bent like a marionette puppet and a missing boy seemed like part of its M.O. He was late for work.

He needed to let Robin and the kids know what was going on. He skirted past the police and drove to the video store. His body was working on autopilot. To his surprise, Dustin and Max were already there.

He watched as a disgruntled Robin tried to shoo them from behind the register. Steve cleared his throat, hoping beyond hope that the kids didn’t notice the red rim of his eyes as he placed his hands on his hips.

“What the hell are you two doing? Shouldn’t you be at school?” He tried to play it off like it was any other day, as though he was fine. Robin’s watchful eyes let him know she saw right through him.

“We’re looking for places Eddie could hide.” Dustin breathed, stopping Steve in his tracks. He shut up and let them explain.

“We were thinking he could be at Reefer Rick’s place,” Max supplied after Dustin finished his tangent. Steve remained uncharacteristically quiet.

“Alright, well, quick. Get your shit, if we’re doing this.” Steve grumbled, sliding off his video store vest and leaving it on the counter. Eddie wasn’t dead. That was something.

“That’s great and all, Steve, but we still don’t know where the hell we’re going,” Dustin argued at Steve’s heels as the four rushed out into the parking lot.

“I know where he lives,” Steve supplied, catching the disbelieving look shared between Max and Dustin. He hadn’t told the kids about him and Eddie.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. It was complicated. Everything about him and Eddie felt complicated. He didn’t want them to be a secret, but it was a necessity to keep them both safe, to keep Eddie safe. He’d told Robin because he knew she was safe. She was an extension of himself. He couldn’t not tell Robin, but the rest of the party was still in the dark.

“I didn’t think you did drugs, Steve,” Dustin spoke sceptically as they piled into the car.

“I don’t do drugs... Put on your seatbelt, Henderson.”

“Then why do you know where a notorious drug dealer lives?” Dustin pushed.

“Seriously, kid. I’m not backing out until you’re buckled in,” Steve warned. Now was not the time to get a D.A.R.E. presentation.

“Steve, should I be worried?” Dustin asked as Max spoke up,

“Of course he does drugs. He’s at Eddie’s place all the time.”

Both Steve and Robin turned back to look at the girl with wide eyes. Of course, Steve should’ve realised Max saw his BMW parked outside the Munsons’ trailer. He hadn’t been thinking.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything because we’re all going through shit,” Max elaborated as Dustin shot her a look of utter betrayal.

“I didn’t think you guys were... friendly. I didn’t think you liked him,” Dustin gaped, finally buckling up.

Steve tried to drive carefully, keeping his eyes on the road and the car under the speed limit, only sometimes succeeding.

“What makes you think I don’t like Eddie?” Steve asked, trying to keep his mind off the very real potential that Eddie had just been dragged into the world he’d never wanted him to be a part of.

Eddie kept trying to push for answers about what happened to Steve. He kept promising he’d give them to him when the time was right, but he could never bring himself to do it. Sometimes the best thing was to remain ignorant. All the same, Steve couldn’t lie to him either, so they’d remained in limbo.

“You always drop me off at Hellfire, but you never say ‘hi’ to the guy."

“I wave at him,” Steve reasoned.

“From the car, Steve. It’s antisocial.”

It wasn’t long before the group pulled up outside of Rick’s. Steve knew where Eddie would hide if he were there. He led the group to the boathouse, searching the place for any sign of the boy. That led to Steve blindly poking around in the dark with an ore and an odd sense of hope. All of which was thrown out the window the second a body sprung up from the darkness to shove him against a wall.

It happened too quickly for Steve to process. There was a weight holding him in place and a sharp pressure at his throat. It wasn’t until Dustin’s calls that Steve made out Eddie’s body in the dim light.

“Woah, Eddie. It’s me. It’s Dustin,” the kid called from behind them.

The rest of the world fell away as he met Eddie’s wide, panicked eyes. He was safe. Scared as hell, but safe. The broken bottle Eddie held at his throat dropped from his hand in an instant, as did the ore from Steve’s grasp.

“It’s Steve, Eddie.”

Recognition flashed across Eddie’s face and suddenly Steve was being crushed again, this time under the weight of Eddie’s arms. The boy clung onto Steve as a drowning man would cling to driftwood. He buried his face into the nape of Steve’s neck and inhaled deeply. Steve could feel Eddie’s heart pounding against his chest. He snaked a hand around to hold the back of Eddie’s neck, forcing the boy to look at him.

“Hey. You’re okay. Just breathe with me for a second, alright?” Steve spoke, echoing Eddie’s words from the first night the two had gotten together. He watched as the rapid rise and fall of Eddie’s chest slowed.

“That’s it,” Steve soothed.

“Stevie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“M’sorry I didn’t... I couldn’t go to your place, Steve. I wanted to,” Eddie continued, his hand having moved to grasp the fabric of Steve’s shirt.

“I didn’t... I didn’t know if it’d follow me. I don’t know what the hell happened, I... you won’t believe me,” He finished at last, resting his forehead against Steve’s.

It was slick with sweat but Steve didn’t care. The others in the room had fallen away entirely. There was only Eddie.

“I think I should probably talk to you about that thing we keep meaning to talk about,” Steve breathed, drawing circles in Eddie’s skin.

“Why now?” The boy asked, disbelievingly, a hysterical laugh slipping from his lips.

“Because no matter how crazy what you’re going to tell me sounds, I believe you.”

“Alright, anyone care to tell me what the hell is going on? I thought you two hated each other,” Dustin called, shattering the moment between them.

They pulled apart, though Eddie still kept his hand laced in Steve’s shirt while his hand migrated to the middle of Eddie’s back.

“Why would I hate my boyfriend?” Eddie breathed, clearly not thinking, hopped up on adrenaline.

“You’re what?” Dustin spoke, gawking open-mouthed at the boys.

Steve inhaled deeply, squeezed Eddie’s hip and levelled Dustin with his best, unimpressed glare, practically daring him to push on.

“That makes more sense,” Max muttered to herself as Dustin’s eyes continued to flicker between the two.

“Shut your mouth, Henderson. You’ll catch flies. We’ve got more pressing issues here,” Steve muttered, trying to work out how exactly he could explain everything to Eddie.

“I thought you were secretly dating Robin, not Eddie. What the hell, man? Neither of you told me,” Dustin pushed forward while Robin snorted, her nose scrunching at the idea.

“Really not the time, Henderson,” Eddie confirmed, his fingers worrying away at Steve’s shirt.

“That’s not fair. You’re not meant to be on his side, dude,” Dustin remarked.

“Can we all just focus for two seconds? Eddie, what happened last night at your trailer?” Steve questioned, somehow managing to wrangle the group back to the task at hand.

Steve knew by Eddie’s deep breath and trembling fingers what he was about to say. The world Steve had tried to protect the boy from had come to find him anyway. Now all Steve would do was be there to hold his hand as they walked through whatever hell the Upside Down had to offer.

Steve would keep him safe. Steve would always keep Eddie safe, no matter what.

#steddie drabble #steddie #multipost fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #bi steve harrington #back by popular demand #stranger things #stranger things 4 #kinda a fix it #season 4 retelling #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #ficlet #Metalhoops writes

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simp-ly-writes · 3 months

Text

Chapter One: The Awakening

Can be read as a standalone: Personal Hell Series (pt.2)

Pairing: (Hazbin Hotel) Lucifer Morningstar x demon overlord!Reader

Summary: Surrounded by darkness- you rest waiting for a hand to pull out out of its depths. From your last breaths, much time has passed and perspectives have changed. Even if you were to return, would people even want you to?

Warnings: 4662 words, mentions of violence and mental health, possible gore and death.

A/N: Still getting into characterization of these characters, apologies if things appear slightly off for one reason or another :)

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

Hushed voices swirled around the darkness, you did not know if your eyes were open or closed within this space nor did you know if these sounds were from a distant memory or present- wherever that would be when you awakened… when you hopefully awakened.

You could not panic in this space, you could not hear yourself breathe in the stale air. Its coolness flooded your lungs as a shock of your heart echoed with its beat when a hand appeared in front of you, gloved in white. You hovered your own above the outstretched palm, you could not understand a word they spoke as their fingers flickered in the depths.

You placed your hand cautiously into their own, one finger at a time before the gloved hand latched on with a vicious grip. Their hand shook as your atmosphere started to rain golden coins in the shadows. You felt another hand being brought to your neck, forcing you to look upwards to the thousands of coins falling around you, clashing like swords against one another yet falling endlessly. They did not echo, only chime as the voice began to hum, their grip loosened as a coin was headed straight between your eyes- it was all you could focus on.

You breathe heavily as you thrash out of their grip, they allow you to easily as their hands blend back into the black depths once more. You look back up now, the coin is only seconds away, growing in scale- encompassing every part of your mind as you try and leave. You are desperate for escape, you imagine yourself running in the void, you plead into the space before being overwhelmed with the sense of falling.

Your eyes open up to the familiar red skies, you look around hopelessly for the golden circle about to seal your fate but only smog filled clouds drift-by peacefully. Looking around Hell once more has you crying out in happiness before being overcome with disbelief. How were you back? Why were you so happy to be back?- Blue skies were only so far away and yet the tearfilled eyes and fluttering ends to your smile could only mean one thing, whatever- whoever had allowed you a second chance had somehow known that above all else, you wished to be back here with the people you loved.

But those thoughts were of secondary matter as you looked around the forested area, the area silent beside the trees drifting by in the growlingly harsh winds coming from the east. You struggle to stand, roots encompass your form as you wiggle out from underneath them. The wood groans from your struggle as you summon your claws forward, slicing through the material with ease. You lean against the tree’s trunk for support, your legs wobbling like a sailor returning home from the sea.

Your neck cracks as you let out a yelp from the static pain, rushing to massage the muscle as you take your first steps forward. You shiver from the breeze, gripping your white military jacket closer to your form as you follow the sun forwards and out of the woods. Your eyes go wide when the first semblance of neon lights gleam brightly in your face- showcasing crude language as a scantily dressed demon shoves you aside and into the road with a laugh. A car swerves around your form as you curse out- matching the signs choice in language as said car drives itself into a building just down the road and a fire warms your backside.

Various demons and creatures alike watch as you stumble through the cityscape and decide to take a moment in a nearby alleyway. Various rats greet you with their sharp yellow teeth before scurrying back off into the sewers below. You choke back the smell of utter shit wafting up through the drains as you process your surroundings. Time had definitely passed from when you first entered the void and you were clueless as to when you had ended up in.

You hear as hundreds of footsteps walk past your position as you try and pick up on their conversations, “mickeys got a special at the club tonight- always a good show that rat is.” “Rozrid overdosed an hour back, that fucker took the last of my stash.” “some princess they are, little bitch has worse vocals than that guy I fucked yesterday. All that preaching and hopeful shite- someone ought to teach her a lesson.”

Princess… The word echoes through your mind, tracing through every bit of your memory. PRINCESS! You shriek into the alleyway before rushing out and back onto the crowded streets. You feel each stain of dried blood on the sidewalks as you run towards what you hope to be downtown- you need to get into the inner circle. You needed to see if your work had paid off as that one passerby stated for yourself, you do not feel the tears drip down your cheeks as you throw each person aside in your path of havoc. A sign pointed towards a railway station as you dashed to the sounds of the steam engine screaming out. The train is about to leave as you leap onto the back cart door and fumble your way inside.

The sole of your left boot is now completely missing as a leftover fork stabs into your skin. Various suits and gowns stare at you in disbelief. A few rise to a fight, thinking you to be a demon playing a dangerous game with their hearts as others join your tears in joy. You shake off their stare, picking up a knife before ushering it to enlarge. The spear now being tipped down an aggressive tophat's Adam's apple before you throw them out the window, their comedic scream echoing against the side of the tunnel before a splat of their corpse as the train runs over their corpse. A woman stands, her parasol being flaunted like a foil moves sharply to stab you, sidestepping it and crashing into a table, you rip the cloth from its surface, casting it in flames before throwing it to her skin that melts with agony.

You continue walking forwards before looking over your shoulder to address the crowd, “will there be anyone else wanting to play with the Right-Hand?” Silence is their answer as you hum out in approval, unlocking the next door and entering the subsequent cart. You look into the various suites before finding an empty one at the end of the cart. The door slips open with a wave of your power before locking behind yourself. Leaning against the door, your heart pounds heavily in your skull as an overpowering of new information brings on yet another headache.

You wish nothing more to be back in the void now while staring into your appearance through the black mirror. Your reflection is only dim- perhaps the mirror is mocking your lack of looks currently as you run a hand through the top of your hair, cringing at the dried-blood clumps that stop your fingers from progressing any further.

Turning back around you enter the small bathroom, turning the skin on as you pick through your locks before having to cut various lumps out that are not worth the pain. The towel you use to whip your face turns from white to brown as you summon a fire in your palm to eliminate the cloth's existence. You wash your fingernails clean and extend your claws outward, picking out the flesh clumps and bark from underneath, humming to yourself while sitting on the toilet seat.

The train rocks sharply, making a harsh turn in a split moment as your face meets the corner of the sink and your right eye swells, almost closing. Cursing into the small bathroom, you strip yourself of your coat and clothing before soaking them in a freshly filled skin. You enter the bedroom space in the meanwhile, still humming a classic tune of your time while looking for supplies to fix your boots. The dresser houses the original room's occupants gear as you smirk at their taste in undergarments- how scandalous they appear in contemporary times it appears.

You stumble across a sewing kit just under the lacy garments as you throw your shoes off and get to work, a knock at the door startles your moment of peace as you curse out before snapping your fingers, the shadows of your usual magic flicker, as an ash like substance falls to the floor. You try a few more times as the door handle jiggles before a do not disturb sign now sings into place on the external door handle and you await for the sounds of the cleaning cart to carry past.

Shaking your hand, your powers still need time to awake to full use and by the grumble of your stomach, they would not be healing anytime soon. You deeply missed the palace’s food in a time like this, fresh and otherworldly fruits summoned by the King just for you. Your favorite dish? Finely prepared by lunchtime with strict preparation orders, and what of dinner? Why- you always share that time in the gardens with the royal couple- chatting happily amongst one another. A bittersweet smile finds a home against your features as you continue connecting the leather back to the sole before putting the boot up to your face, admiring your handiwork and settling your foot back into its reassuring squeeze.

Looking out the window as the sun kisses your features, you watch as thousands of buildings pass-you-by, blurring together with the speed. An announcement chimes through the stereo as you lean against the headboard, eyes closing to the gentle rocks of the cabin. “May I have your attention passengers, this train will be making all stops to the inner circle over the next two days. Tomorrow morning we will dismount for a refueling before continuing- have a pleasant afternoon passengers,” the announcer flashes before the line goes silent once more.

Next to the radio sits a box with various coloured buttons on its surface. You pick up the strange object with curiosity, never had you seen such technology so openly available. The palace always believed in the traditional forms of accounting, books, records, and maps- how your heart ached to be inside your office one more, to complete your studies and report back to the court the morning after. You did not know if any of the servants or council members would remember you now nor if the royals even did. Shaking your head, too much time has passed- I would only be causing a disturbance to the new routines enforced, you think to yourself before snapping your clothes dry and pressing them against your form and snuggling underneath the covers. The weird box would have to await for another day.

Your mission objective was to find the princess, see that you could retire that past-self, the one known to be dead- better dead. You shake in your sleep as you find yourself back to that announcement day. The joyous laughter erupting from the back of your throat at the feeling of the demon lord gasping for air, pushing up against your shadows as they tighten, the blood of the fallen soaking through every garment you wore as the sky rained arrows and spears alike. The silver glowing eerily a sea of blood encompassed the field. But just as your grip lessens, you feel that nauseous feeling overcoming your laughter, that blade cutting through your skin, slicing your core ever-so elegantly as you reeling in pain as you kick widely, mouth gasping, hands praying to the red skies you created.

You hear as they laugh in your face before the world goes back. You are drifting through a dreamless state, your breaths echo evenly in the empty space before that white-gloved hand emerges once more, extending itself outwards to you. Learning back the hand only follows you with ease, floating just over your own, just asking to touch your own once more. You shake your head, pleading to awaken, hoping that the awakening you had earlier was not just the continuation of this nightmare on the other side…

You gasp yourself awake, the sweat dripping down your back as you throw off the covers. You feel from your feet all the way up to your head- you were still yourself. Looking up into the back mirror just in front of you, your face glows with newfound life as you gasp in surprise. Not a single cut, scrape, or bruise littered against your complexion. You shiver in confusion, reaching to grab your tailored coat from the nearby armchair.

Looking out the train window, the modernized outlines of a large city bustle on the horizon. You squint your eyes, trying to pick up on the sign just in the distance, in a fit of barely-visible text you make out the words, Welcome to the Pride Ring: Pentagram City 50 lives away.

But just before you can jump up and celebrate to your adventures start, the radio by your bedside table crackles violently as the various nods fly off and post holes in the walls. Maroon waves flood from the speaker- only growing with sound as a shadow creeps out from between the emerging cracks as the device shatters into two and out pops what you could assume to be the radio demon himself.

His yellow teeth make you cringe as they point nearest to your cheeks as he lends forward and takes in your appearance. The colour of their sharp points reminds you of those coins that plague your sleep as a red-leather hand extends its way towards your own. Without even moving he picks your hand, giving it a quick three shakes before dropping it swiftly and leaning against his cane.

“Why hello, deer! Someone has decided to awaken from their… beauty sleep it seems,” the overlord teases as their voice crackles slightly at the end. You only roll your eyes as the air comes to a halt in the room as a screech can be heard as their nails dig into a nearby wall.

“Now you see- I am at a crossroads dear-General. On one hand I could return you to the King- maybe a bit roughed up- a good spar we could have here- just outstanding work you made of that couple earlier- BRAVO!” a series of cheers and claps emerge into the space that have you rolling your shoulders back and twisting your fingers, preparing for an attack.

“But- I see that you are eager to draw blood, I do adore that quality of yours- just like old times no?- A scrape here, a scar there- all in good fun, but nevertheless where would the fun be in those few moments of thanks, a favour to be paid in future then I would be ushered back out?” He tisks while twirling his microphone, dispatching his nails from the wall as he passes up and down the small hallway, “I think I will go with the second decision- yes. You will join me to Hazbin Hotel-”

“And why in the every-living fuck would I do that radio-tower?” you question back, summoning a small portal behind yourself to gather a specialmade weapon, it cries for blood in its long rest as you hold it back in wait- watching as the deer-man’s head cracks at a ninety-degree angle. Eyes swirling with malice before cocking his head back with uproarious laughter, small music notes appear like pollen in the air around his head- swirling like a hurricane before he gathers himself once more, bending forward to stare deeply into your eyes.

“You would because you wish to see the Princess of Hell- do you not? I heard your sleep filled murmurs through the wire- you have nothing to hide~” he sings songs before extending his hand once more as a portal opens behind himself, a grand foyer stills in the background as smaller figures look through from the otherside curiously.

Your eyes flash before and behind him as you debate your options, to stab or not to stab? “What is in it for you, Alastor?” you question, raising a brow alongside your blade- purposely not cutting into his skin yet applying enough pressure to feel as he glumps from underneath the angelic blade.

“What is not in it for me- deer? I get to watch the father of hell himself one day realise you had returned and in doing so, decided to stay with me instead of reporting back to him for whatever little reasons your mind comes up with,” he adds with an erie-cherrie tone that has you cringing up your spine before motioning him through the portal with a tilt of your blade. His hands go up as an even wider smile coats his features, he turns around- coat tails flapping with the actions as he allows you to enter first, closing the doorway behind you both.

You look around the Hazbin Hotel with great interest before a dull ring echoes in your head, you feel yourself falling backwards and against a sofa. The blush yet stained fabric groans over your collapse as you lean forward, clasping your head in your hands- a silent scream escapes between your lips as you become trapped in a distant memory, locked in earlier times.

Queen Lilith stood beside you as she walked alongside your dedicated steps, you were monitoring the perimeter of the palace walls as she got you caught up on the various court meetings you missed that afternoon and the new idea she had, “There must be another way, Lucifer believes otherwise yet the killings- they cannot go on forever as they are merely a plaster to a larger crack in the system of death. There must be some way to get those who have fallen off the beaten path back on track- returned to heaven's pearly gates…”

The Queen continues to describe her idea to you as your attention becomes divided, half-listening to her latest idea while also looking into the surrounding forest for a potential attack that you scouted while in town earlier. A group of thugs at the tavern were plotting to overthrow the couple- you would not allow that to happen of course.

A few finger emergence in the blink of an eye as Lilith goes through shock- so lost in your soothing presence and her ideas that she stumbles back as you shove her aside, summoning your armour as you jump upwards- casting your sword through their bodies in a line before dropping to your knees in front of the King who had just arrived. You slam your helmet off, awaiting for the next orders, only squeaking your eyes open to watch as Lilith slaughters the rest with a mere click of her fingers.

“Now back to where we were, what do you think of it dearest friend? Do you believe it to be possible- probable even?” Lilith asks while cleaning her nails as Lucifer checks his wife over from the attack. You rest against the ground still, holding your helmet between your hands, “Possible is never the question- my Queen. You are only the most powerful beings in Hell- there is little not possible yet probable is at a minimum. Heaven is dead ears to any semblance of change…” you scoff while rolling your shoulders back, “...trust me in saying that- they will never listen- not even to the truth, as I am sure you both already know.”

A silence overtakes the woods as the smell of rotting corpses as you try your best to keep dinner town. The King raises his hand, motioning you to stand yet just as you begin, he takes your hand in his own- helping you up the rest of the way before offering an arm to his Queen as you follow in their shadows.

When you emerge back in the hotel, you are still at the dozen or so pairs of eyes staring at you- analyzing your every move. You feel a static presence behind your neck, your hairs raise- it could only be Alastor. “Now, esteemed guests of the hotel and royalty alike,” your breath hitches as you look over each person of the crowd- eyes going wide when red eyes and golden hair grace your vision. “May we please extend our warmest welcomes to the oldest soul in the room, the confidant, historian and general of the seven rings of hell.”

“Alastor,” You growl out with utmost annoyance, watching as horror takes over the supposed Princesses face before you even got to make a personal introduction. You soon realise your position as eons of service create your actions as you fall onto your knees before the royal, offering your hands as you state, “It is with great honour I get to be in your presence, Princess of Hell. It fills me with utmost pride and sincerity when stating that the sacrifices I have made have amounted to your life- my only plea would be to have met you sooner. Seen you grow by your parents' side but know that I am now your blade, an extension of mind and keeper of souls for as long as you see fit.”

Charlie stands before you in shock, looking to Vaggie for assistance who’s sole attention is staring at the blade on your back- wondering if this was really you or someone imposing to attack. Angel Dust stands to the side, leaning against the bar while whispering over to Husk, “So… who is this person?” their hands wave over to your general direction as they sip down the rest of their glass. Husk rolls his shoulders and shakes his head, “Are you deaf- or just plain stupid? Did you not hear Alastor's speech?- they are practically the Right-Hand to all of Hell and should be dead.”

“Dead?” the spider questions back, “they sure look alive to me- more than alive, think they would fuck me?” Husk chokes on his drink and does not even bother to answer the question, only watching as Angel Dust walks his way over to stand beside Charlie and takes a closer look.

Charlie appears to snap back to reality, her cheerie personality falling instantly as she takes a deep breath, “If you are really who you say you are- prove it to me and then we can talk more.” You only nod once, starting to prepare yourself for a summon as Vaggie snaps her eyes away, looking towards her girlfriend with concern, “Everything alright?- I’ve never seen you like this before, is there something I should know? What did they do to you?”

“More like all the things I wouldn’t care if they did to me,” Angel Dust comments as Vaggie flips him a quick finger in return. “You will find out just as I do,” Charlie states in a cold tone, she could not believe the person who helped to create everything she made this hotel to combat against, made her parents split, and the person she ever-so desperately wanted a chance to meet as a child- studying their craft, could quite possibly be before herself.

You stand as everyone besides Alastor takes a step back, the Radio Demon leans forward with utmost intrigue pursuing his actions as you float slightly off the ground. You take the finest sliver of your blessing from the royal couple, a golden strand weaving its way around your fingers like a snake in grass that makes your shadows cower away. You toy with the snake, keeping careful track of its power while trying not to ring the bell on its collar, alerting the owner.

When you fall back to the floor, your shadowed face returns to your face as you breathe heavily from the amount of control you had to bring forth. “Does my father know you are here?” Charlie questions with a tilt to her head.

“No, Princess. And I would like to try and keep it that way. I understand the damage I left from my untimely… passing. I do not wish to stir the pot more if I were to announce my return- shaking the foundations so to speak,” you reply with your head bowed, a silent golden tear falls down your cheek that you don’t bother to notice for it was the aftermath of using such magic.

“How are you still alive?” Vaggie questions straight away afterwards while doing her best to stare into your eyes. “I have few theories but I have yet to find truth in any of them,” you state, falling back onto your court speech as you become bombarded with questions circling around you.

“Do you want to fuck after this?” Angel Dust questions as you glare deeply at them, “I do not have time to waste on such matters.” You can hear a crackle in the air, Alastor appears to be covering up an actual laugh.

“How did you get that blade?” Husk questions while cleaning the bartop, you twist your head over to the voices direction, “It was a birthday gift from the Queen.” You watch as his hand stops its circling with the rag, head slowly tilting upwards as furrowed eyebrows question your statement, “I assure you, before my death we were all in each others good graces- more so even…” you trail off with a twinge of a smile that has Charlies heart breaking for a third time that day.

Your head snaps back over as Charlie clears her throat, your attention now solemnly on her. “Why would you create an extermination day if you were so against violence?” This question catches you off-guard. Your job came with violence as it did brains and empathy- how would she have known beyond the personality you created to the public… NO- no, no, no they could not have.

“I read your journals, your books, listened to my fathers countless stories- you were a breathing legend- a myth of high regard and yet when my father read your eulogy at the royal funeral. He announced to everyone of your kindness often forgotten and all the little things in life that everyone takes for granted now. Yet YOU hid it, my FATHER hid it alongside my MOTHER! Your vile creation- why?” The Princess comes clean as Vaggie stills beside her, Charlie falls into her arms as she hiccups with tears.

You hand twitches, wanting to bring Charlie into a hug, to listen to her worries, her ideas and history just as you did for her mother. “I am sorry,” you start off my saying, “And that will never be enough- I never expect it to be. I spoke out to Heaven, I followed your mother’s wishes- you may not know this Princess but you echo her past beyond measure. I watched as your fathers power flickered underneath their spears at God's hand and against the destruction of many. I take the blame for the creation of the extermination day. I pleaded at the Gates before falling back to Hell. It was the best choice we hand for a future for someone like you to rise again”

Charlie nods once before turning around and walking towards her room with Vaggie for support. Angel Dust lets out a low whistle before murmuring something about needing another drink, a few shots were already prepared at the bar- courtesy of Husk. Alastor comes around the couch and stands in front of you, “Now that was a wonderful display! The drama, the passion, the SPECTACLE! Oh, what a show, deer. Now I think it is time for some rest, there is an open room right beside my own if you need anything at all- I am your new first call after all,” the demon overlord says with excitement, clapping his hands together before opening a portal to one of the upper floors.

To be continued.

╰┈➤ A/N: hope you all enjoyed reading this next part! Thank you all so much for support on the prologue!!

Hazbin Hotel Masterlist

↳ Taglist: @jtcat305 @tati-the-fangirl @randomgurl2326 @22carolina08

#luficer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer x y/n #lucifer morningstar x y/n #lucifer morningstar x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #simp-ly #simp-ly-writes

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lululandd · 4 months

Text

antics;

pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x f!reader

wordcount: 1.4k+

warnings: fluff, reader owns a cat, the cat has a name

note: happy holidays :3 (also on AO3)

summary: reader unknowingly pranks simon.

part i. | part ii. | part iii.

Your pet cat had been restless the whole day; pacing around the front door with his tail swishing about, meowing your way and then stared at the door to let you know he wanted to go outside, batting things away from your hands, before camping in front of the door to nap in front of it.

He’s back.

And by ‘he’ you mean the really tall burly man that lives at the other end of the hall that your cat loves. He is an indoor cat that gets to sniff the hallway and the lift on extremely rare occasions, so how he figures out the man is back home when he’s inside your flat you will never know.

He met him one time. One time. If it wasn’t for his obsession with the man you’d have forgotten about the whole thing. Your naughty pet had escaped and ran towards the open lift that day, and unluckily the doors were open, but luckily there was a man with quick reflexes right by the door that caught him in between his legs. He pinched the little bastard by the neck with his ankles and just stood there while you two looked at each other in surprise.

He recovered far quicker than you did. “You gonna get ‘em or what?” His tone is clipped, hands holding onto the elevator door so it doesn’t close on him.

It snapped you out of your stupor. “Sorry!” You walked towards him and kneeled as you tried to grab your chubby pet.

This incident stayed on his little kitty brain over and over or something because he never got over the man til this day. There would be weeks, even months of ‘normal’ behaviour until he behaves, well… like this.

Only this time you decided to indulge him to see what he would do. You cautiously watched his excited little pitter patter and raised tail a couple of steps behind, ready to haul him back home if it gets too overwhelming or if the man reacts negatively. He stood up on both his hind legs at his door and started meowing, ears perked up intently towards it. His eyes practically shining black orbs when he turned his head to look at you. He puts his paws back down on the ground and meows one last time towards the oncoming footsteps from the other side of the door.

He bolted around the man’s legs as soon as it opened, running straight into his flat. He had learnt from his previous mistake of going in between them.

“What the fuck.” He muttered under his breath as he turned his head back inside, before closing the door. You had worried he would do something drastic but he came back out a few seconds later, with your cat held by the chest as the rest of his body sits on his forearm. He seems to be content being slung around by a stranger. “Li’l cheeky bastard tried to get my salmon.”

“Oh no…” You placed both hands on your mouth, “I hope he didn't get any?”

“He allergic?” He asks, eyebrows knitting close together in what you hope to be concern. It was a little hard to discern his expression when he had his lower half of his face covered with a mask.

You shook your head as you stepped forwards, offering to take your cat back. “No, he’s not. Just didn’t want him to ruin your meal, that’s all.”

“He didn’t get any.” He bounced your fat cat on his arm like he weighs nothing. “What’s his name?”

“Meese.” You answered as seriously as you could, “Like the plural form of moose.” adding the explanation when he looks confused.

He nodded solemnly before swishing the arm with your cat on it around, “So where does Meese live?”

It took all your will power and strength to not giggle at his question, trying your best to look neutral as you pointed at the other end of the hallway.

He raised his arm so he could stare into Meese’s face, “How in bloody hell didja smell my salmon from way over there, boy?”

“I’m so sorry for the trouble.”

“Not at all.” He waved it off as if nothing that just happened was out of the ordinary, like a stranger’s cat purring up a storm on his forearm is a common occurrence, and his Salmon dinner wasn’t almost ruined by said cat.

“I should probably get back.” You took another step forwards, again offering to take him off his hands. “I can come back later after you finish dinner if you want to play with him?”

—

Harsh winds whipped at his fur collar, making it flap annoyingly against his helmet as he kept his sights on the building through his binoculars. The mission brought him and Laswell to Norway, with him lying prone out here on the twenty centimeter snow while Laswell is sitting on a chair in a heated fucking tent, probably has hot chocolate with her. With marshmallows.

His radio garbled to life, the sound half drowned by the blizzard. “Sitrep, Brav—.”

He cuts her off immediately. “Nothin’ yet. Cold as fuck, over.”

“Snippy are we?” He can hear the smile and playfulness in her tone.“Are you out of heat packs, Ghost?”

“Savin’ a couple.” He regrets not creating a snow wall and now the weather’s getting to him. Soap would’ve laughed at his stupidity if he was here with them.

The thought punched him in the gut, a shiver washed over him as the thought of his best friend loomed heavy over his psyche.

“See anything interesting, Ghost?”

What the actual fuck is Laswell on about.

He’s never been close with Laswell, as she’s usually paired up with Price and Gaz. On the past few missions she’s in his ear, he’s never been on the direct receiving end of her casual jabber and Ghost felt a little awkward joking around with someone as high rank as Laswell. He wishes he has Gaz’s easy personality and openness right now, that man even cut through his defences like a lightsaber on butter.

He adjusted his binoculars and zoomed out a little bit to get a better look around the compound to find something to humour his superior. There’s a wooded area on the right, and a frozen over body of water on the left, a derelict civilian jeep sitting all by its lonesome in the middle of said lake. It made him smile the first time he saw it, because it’s the kind of thing he would’ve started or participated in if he worked in this god-forsaken place.

A harmless betting pool. Guess what date—and maybe time—would the jeep sink into the water, and win a couple rations, or chocolate bars maybe. Perhaps cash if they trust each other enough. Whatever prick tied up inside the jeep would just be an added bonus. The perfect pastime that could initiate an investigation.

Just as he thought about people he would love to stuff in a sinking car, a movement at the far edge of the clearing caught his eye. There were two of them, a slow-moving large animal with a smaller version of it by its side.

“Didn’t know meese exist out here.” He spoke up.

“Can you repeat that, bravo?”

“Meese. Thought they were native to Canada or North America.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

The cold plummeted his patience for Laswell. He’s trying his damnedest to sound neutral. “Moose, the animal. Like elks but ugly. Saw two of ‘em.”

Laswell had seemingly ignored his observation, the two animals he spotted had long walked away when Laswell’s voice came through his ear piece again, “Ghost?”

“Copy.”

“The plural of moose is still moose. It’s not like one goose and a couple of geese. For them it’s one moose and two or more of them would still be moose.”

“What?”

“Don’t know how else to tell you, Bravo.” He heard the start of a garbled laughter before Laswell cuts herself off out of respect. She started a moment later, “Who told you it was meese?”

The cat. The girl with the cat messed with him.

“Nobody. Thought they work the same way.”

This time Laswell laughed in his ear, purposefully turning on the radio so he could hear it.

Oh, you’re definitely getting pranked back for making him look stupid in front of his handler.

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #scuffed writing #when in christ fuck will ghost leave my mind so i can write about someone else #meese universe

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gyutar0ss · 1 year

Text

Kny + Taking care of your injuries

• Ft: Tanjiro Kamado, Inosuke Hashibira, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Genya Shinazugawa, and Tokito Muichiro

•Summary: What do the Kny boys do when you get injured by a demon?

•Warning: blood, mention of open wounds, swearing

•P.S: for every character/scenario reader is the same age as character.

• He immediately rushes to your side.

• “Try to stay focused, I’m sure your senses will come back to you!” Tanjiro reassured trying to cheer [Name] up, but then quickly focusing back on the fight.

“Thanks Tanjiro!” [Name] said as he flashed a quick smile at his boyfriend, then quickly focusing on the demon in front of him.

The demon was strong, strong enough to injure [Name]. Usually, [Name] could’ve avoided the demons attack, but since his senses were off he wasn’t able to.

[Name] let out a yelp, as he quickly fell to the ground. “Shit!” [Name] yelled, as he quickly got up and decapitated the demon, then went sat down on the ground. His face wincing in pain.

“[Name]!” Tanjiro yelled to his boyfriend. He quickly rushed to him, a string of comforting words escaping his mouth.

“It’s okay Tanjiro the wound isn’t that bad.” [Name] said trying his best to reassure the panicking boy. “I can use a breathing technique to stop the bleeding!” [Name] said while putting on a soft reassuring smile on his face.

After Tanjiro calmed down a bit he quickly put [Name] on his shoulders, ready to take him to the butterfly estate.

“Stay with me [Name].” Tanjiro whispered hoping [Name] heard him.

“I will, I promise” [Name] quickly said back.

• He senses right away.

•At first he thinks your wound not that serious.

[Name] let out a yelp as he fell to the ground. “Fuck!” [Name] shouted, as he put his hand over his wound.

“[Name]!” Inosuke yelled, he quickly beheaded the demon in anger, then rushed to his boyfriends side.

“This hurts like hell” [Name] said, a small smirk appearing on his face as he winced in pain st his wound.

“You better fucking stay with me, I swear to fucking god [Name].” Inosuke said trying his best not to panic.

“I don’t plan on dying!” [Name] replied back with a huge grin on his face, trying to make his boyfriend put on a smile.

“I knew that!” Inosuke boasted, as he picked up [Name] and went to go find help for his boyfriend.

“You’ll get all healed up soon, i promise.” Inosuke whispered in [Names] ear.

“All thanks to you!” [Name] smiled, giving his boyfriend a peck on his cheek.

• He hears the sound of flesh being torn and the sound of an scream.

• It was a scream from a really familiar voice.

“[Name]?” Zenitsu yelled out, hoping to get an answer. However, there was no answer. The good thing was Zenitsu could still hear the sound of his boyfriends heart beating.

“Zenitsu?” [Name] softly called out, as he gasped for air, trying to stand up attempting behead the demon.

At this point Zenitsu was about to burst into tears, seeing his boyfriend struggle like that was just to much to bear.

Zenitsu quickly beheaded the demon, then quickly rushed to [Name’s] side.

“No [Name] you lay down, I’ll see if i could get help for you” Zenitsu reassured the boy, while applying pressure to his wounds.

“Thank you Zenitsu” [Name] thanked, giving the boy a soft smile, making Zenitsu’s heart melt.

“I’m sorry I let you get hurt like this.” Zenitsu said as he wiped the tears out of his eyes.

“It’s not your fault.” [Name] replied back as he wrapped his hands around Zenitsu’s waist bringing himself closer to the boy.

• He goes into complete panic but he doesn’t show it.

• He shoots the demons head off the immediately rushes to your side.

[Name] let out a string of cuss words underneath his breath, as he put his hand over his wound.

“The wound is deep, we gotta get you do a doctor, or at least the butterfly estate” Genya whispered to his boyfriend.

“It’s gonna leave a really badass scar though!” [Name] excitedly back flashing a huge grin at Genya.

[Name] always turned a serious situation like this into someone that could make the two boys smile. That’s something Genya loved about him.

“Yeah it will won’t it?” Genya smiled, leading to the two boys giggling.

Genya picked up [Name] and quickly rushed to the butterfly estate so his boyfriend’s wounds could be treated.

Though Genya still felt worried at the fact that [Name] had a really deep wound, something bad could happen to him.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to me i promise.” [Name] told Genya reassuring the boy.

“Well you better keep that promise, okay?” Genya replied back all his worries going away.

• Notices really quick.

• Tells you what you should do to stop the bleeding, so he could quickly fight off the demon and attend to you.

As soon as he beheads the demon he rushes to your side.

Seeing [Name] wince in pain made him feel some sorta way, he couldn’t describe the feeling but all Muichiro knew is that he wanted that feeling to go away.

“You need to relax [Name].” Muichiro calmly whispered to his boyfriend, the fourteen year old boy immediately relaxing after hearing his boyfriend’s soothing voice.

“Good, this is gonna hurt a bit, but you have to get up.” Muichiro followed, as he helped [Name] get up.

[Name] let out a soft sigh as he leaned on Muichiro’s body.

“This really sucks.” [Name] complained, as he used Muichiro as support for his injured body. [Name’s] body was swaying left to right, as he struggled to stand up still for even a second.

[Name] placed a small peck on Muichiro’s cheek as a reward for him being so patient with him, making the boy smile back at him.

“You’re the best Muichiro” [Name] said as he rested his head on Muichiro’s shoulder.

#demon slayer #demon slayer x male reader #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer headcanons #kny #kny x male reader #kny x reader #male reader #x male reader #tanjiro x male reader #tanjiro kamado #zenitsu x male reader #zenitsu agatsuma #inosuke x male reader #inosuke hashiriba #genya x male reader #genya shinazugawa #muichiro x male reader #tokitō muichirō

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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART II

ALRIGHT, SECOND PART IS OUT. NOT WAITING. hope u like :)

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader || enemies to lovers trope.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

This isn't your first time meeting Steve Harrington.

You know him. And he knows you. Well, maybe. Who knows. You both run in completely different circles in high school.

While there's some very obvious tension amongst the love triangle (Nancy-Steve-Jonathan) you take a second to look over at the group of kids behind King Steve. There's a curly-haired kid wearing a cap, another kid sporting a bandana, and a redheaded girl. They give you sort of awkward waves, which you return with a tight-lipped grin.

"Sorry," Jonathan's suddenly saying. "Uh, you guys, this is umm -"

"Bauman," you interject. "Just...call me Bauman."

Steve is now looking at you, realizing. Recognizing. "Hey," he says. "Wait, aren't you in Click's class?"

You press your lips into a thin line, trying not to be totally off-put by him. And in truth, you weren't really. Steve had seemed less... douchey, since he started dating Nancy. You were grateful for that. No matter how doomed their relationship was, it seemed to help him get rid of his trash friends. God, Tommy H. and Carol and that Nicole girl were just toxic.

"Yeah," you said, reaching out a hand. "Nice to officially meet you."

Steve shook your hand, a bit sheepish. And still distracted with the fact that his girlfriend had shown up with Byers. Why was she with Byers? You felt yourself internally cringing, seeing how oblivious yet aware he was. It actually made you feel bad.

"I'm Dustin!"

You suddenly looked in the direction of a toothy-grinned kid smiling at you, and you couldn't help but grin back. "Hey, Dustin."

Lucas and Max introduced themselves, too. But then, you all heard sound coming from off in the distance. The lab.

So yeah, things took a pretty sharp turn from there. It's all kind of a blur, if you're being honest. Everyone began talking over each other, eventually gathering info as to exactly who you are and why you were here (at least the general just of it). They learned about Murray Bauman, and Steve's face just became more perplexed, the more that Nancy and Jonathan revealed what they had learned...together.

...yikes.

But the kids were also asking you a million questions, very curious about you. Max found you funny, finding you to have more cool-girl energy than Nancy, who just seemed too polished for her to know how to communicate with her.

Eventually, Nancy noticed the power back on at the lab and you all took off in that direction. Steve was arguing a lot with the kid named Dustin. Very brotherly. Low-key motherly. The toll gate wouldn't open, then suddenly it did open, and then next thing you know a car is racing towards you from the lab and it's got Jim Hopper at the steering wheel? He's throwing the door open, demanding all of you to get in.

As you all drive, you end up near the front of the car, squished between Steve and Dustin.

"Bauman."

You look over at Jim, surprised. But he's looking at you in the rearview with all-knowing eyes. "You're Murray's niece."

You nod. "Yeah. Jim Hopper, right?"

Jim reaches back to pat your knee, eyes on the road and still shaken up from whatever the hell they just escaped. "M'sorry, kid. Your uncle's been getting shit from me. I know he sent you. M'really sorry. I'll make it right with him after all this, alright? Promise."

You just nod, knowing there's really no time for any of that right now. Since you got in the car, you haven't even had time to notice how there is a woman (clearly Joyce Byers) in pure distress, along with another kid in tow and the limp body of another child that she's holding. Jonathan is reaching for him, riddled with worry. Is that Will?

Once you all make it back to the Byers residence, it's tense. Really fucking tense. Jonathan is knelt in front of the couch, voicing his regrets out loud as he stares at his brother's limp form. Nancy stands behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You're on the opposite side of the room, leaned against the wall.

Which is why you notice that behind Hopper, who's yelling into the wall phone, Steve. He looks...devastated. Hurt. Heartbroken.

...fuck, he looks heartbroken.

He walks past you, pinching his nose and sniffing once. He looks like he's really fighting off some emotion, escaping to another room. It makes you think about everything that went down at your uncle's bunker, and how maybe it was funny there...but it isn't here. Not now, seeing that this guy actually has some intense feeling for Nancy Wheeler. Intense love for her. Real love.

...but Nancy doesn't feel that same intense love for him.

...oh god, that's messy.

But all hell is breaking loose before you can linger on that for much longer. Suddenly, you're all devising a plan. It has something to do with dungeons and dragons, and Will being possessed, and getting him in a room that whatever monster is inside of him won't recognize. The you're all deciphering Morse Code, and it's a whirlwind from there.

And then you're all holding weapons, bracing fore an attack...when some young girl walks in. Who you come to learn is the infamous Eleven. Her hair grew back, and she looks ready to join a punk band.

Pretty bitchin' look, you gotta admit.

The kids introduce her to you, and she gives you a shy smile. Then you're all splitting up into groups, and you catch a brief exchange between Nancy and Steve. He's saying something to her about going with Jonathan, and it makes you tense for Nancy. You can't even imagine how she must feel, knowing that he sees it.

And honestly, the way that Steve talks is...so not King Steve. It's uncharacteristically mature. Secure, and assuring. Not that of the teen heartthrob and bad boy you've been going to school with. And when Nancy does go off with Jonathan, you see Harrington's heart shatter into a million pieces with just the look in his eyes.

You feel bad. You suddenly feel really bad.

But also, he had to have seen this coming. Right? Jonathan Byers was a good, decent guy, who'd been there for Nancy all throughout the hell of last year. Steve had come around, finally. But by then, the trauma bond between Byers and Wheeler was irreversible. There's no changing that.

But damn, unrequited love sucks.

You knew was rejection felt like, and you wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even your worst enemy.

Out of guilt, you make some conversation with Steve. Given it's just the two of you with the kids left at the house, needing to wait things out, you both easily make conversation. It's a bit awkward at first, but oddly it finds flow pretty easily. Steve's still got his charm, although it's a little more grounded than before. It isn't forced, or laced with popular-kid attitude. That's refreshing.

As you both end up listening to the kids like the only two parental figures around, then end up having to fight off that psycho new kid at school named Billy Hargrove (who's actually Max's stepbrother?!) and patch up Steve's very beaten and battered face which somehow still looks pretty, annnnd wind up in a tunnel full of creatures (demo dogs? is that what Dustin called them?), then somehow survive all of that shit... you and Steve become pretty bonded, pretty quickly.

And when the worst of it is seemingly over, you end up helping Eleven get ready for the Snowball -- dropping her off with Hopper. He's grateful for your help, and after making amends with your uncle you two have gotten to know each other well, too. He likes you, appreciating your mature sense of self.

Joyce adores you already, being the kind-natured and loving mama-bear that she is.

And El? Well, she loves you. You're like a cool older sister figure of sorts.

You and Steve run into each other when dropping off the kiddos at the Snowball, making conversation about how crazy everything was. You talk about other things, too. Just mundane things, bouncing off each other well. But when Steve notices Nancy inside, he gets that sad puppy-dog look in his eyes again. Then, Jonathan's coming out of the dance with a camera. He clearly was the designated photographer for the night.

And he clearly has captured Nancy Wheeler's heart.

One night, after Jonathan and Nancy have started going steady and you're all on summer break, you're all over at the Henderson's house watching the kids. The adults are there, too, since Mrs. Henderson is out working overnight. Murray is pouring up drinks for the adults and teens, much to Joyce's disapproval. But he just goes about his business, clinking glasses. Hopper honestly looks like he could really use a fucking drink. Or 5.

You, Steve, Nancy and Jonathan all toast, happily. Chatting. Laughing. Making light of things.

...but that ends up being pretty short-lived.

Before you know it, you're in the kitchen helping clean up while Joyce gets the kids in bed and Hopper is on the couch slurring with your uncle. Steve had offered to help you, but Dustin insisted that he come see something in his room before they all went to bed. Nancy has left with Mike and Max, while Lucas is staying the night.

Welp. Jonathan walks in, drunk, telling you thank you.

It's sloppy, and it would be funny except for the fact that he is talking so fucking loud. He's just thanking you, and then Murray, over and over -- "...for meddling with'm love life because now, I'm dating th'most beautifurrrl girl in Hawkins. N'if'it weren't for y'two...I'd still'b pining o'r h-her."

...annnnd then he’s blabbering on about how you let him and Nancy take the bed. “Well’lmost… ha, w-we ended urp…takin’th…couch. Whischhh…you tol’us you’w’d…toHaLLy tAkE’stead.” Then he’s snickering, drunkenly. “Cuz’you toooootally wanted us to doooo itttt. Schhhhhhayin that — m’not the safe one. That’m — I’m the one’th Nannnncy l-loves. Not…S-Steve…”

You just chuckle nervously, giving him a pat on the shoulder. And you just keep washing the dishes when he gives you a tight hug from behind, stumbling a bit and making you almost drop and break one of Mrs. Henderson's very cute plates.

Right on cue, Steve rounds the corner, having heard it.

All of it.

And now that Steve has gotten wind of the fact you played a huge role — along with Murray — on why Nancy left him, he is totally pissed.

In fact, he’s livid.

"Steve," you try, but he just holds up a hand, staring daggers at you.

"Save it, Bauman," he grits. "Save. It."

It causes him to have the utmost disdain towards you, border lining hate. It just festers over time, getting worse.

Something about that makes your stomach flip inside out with a horrible, upset feeling. Your guts feel knotted up, and if the reality of things weren't so bleak, you would laugh at the fact that losing Steve Harrington's friendship (let alone trust) would upset you one day, let alone even happen. You feel bad. You really do. But God, as time goes on... his entire attitude about it is insufferable. He isn't letting up any time soon. Not when you both meet up with the kids (because regardless of the strain between you two, you're both the parents now). It feels like two divorced parents, meeting up to share custody of the chitlins.

The only relationship to which Steve is committed, is the one that he shares with Miss Hatred. And you're her bitch.

...guess there's still some King Steve in him after all.

You knew King Steve. He was an ass. So you know what? Suck it, Harrington. Karma’s a bitch.

As time passes, you begin firing back at him - tired of trying to explain yourself, apologize or play nice. Steve wants to fucking play? Alright then. Game on, Harrington.

There's a whole upside down universe threatening to take over still? All good. Let's still brawl, Harrington.

The kids keep bringing you both around each other, and you're also working at a place inside of the same damn mall as Steve is for the summer? AWESOME.

LET'S GET READY TO FUCKIN RUMBLE.

So yeah, you’re totally involved in the whole mall ordeal with the Russians, bonding you to Steve and Robin, along with Dustin and Erica.

But despite that, Steve still resents you. So there is still rivalry between the two of you. Hot and bothered.

That said, despite his pure disdain towards you...it doesn't change the fact that you actually do begin to see him for the much better human that he is becoming. King Steve has fallen. No doubt. You see that. The way that he loves and cares the kids, especially Dustin. And the way that Steve reacts whenever Robin comes out to you both? He's an angel. Hell, he even fought the soldiers off of you whenever they decided to make you their torture-chamber play-thing. He definitely got mad at them for that one, but he also got mad at you for not going with Dustin and Erica before all of that went down. You both nearly strangled each other when attempting to hold the door shut, yelling at each other to run. Robin had finally joined you both, but still - neither of you budged.

Steve was a good guy. A nice guy, even. Just not to you, unless the moment called for him to be. Which was fine.

…but he’s still annoying. And apparently, he can hold a fucking grudge like no other. He’s a world class champ at that, come to find out. Gold star.

You're onboarded to help Hopper, Murray and Joyce with shutting the gate. It's a no-brainer. Steve looks a little miffed, seeing how the adults trust you like one of them rather than him. Even the way that Jonathan is so cool around you, and Nancy seems shy around you, it just...irks him.

When you manage to help Joyce close the gate, you witness the death of Hopper. And it kills you, along with your uncle. You ache for Joyce, unable to fathom how you'll have to bring it up to El.

But hey, you all manage to destroy the Mind Flayer. And when Billy is killed in the process, you tend to Max like a true older sister. She and Eleven have both come to look up to you as such, and Steve won't deny the fact that you're a saint with these kids. A real fucking saint. And if he's being honest...he's relieved to have a co-parenting partner.

But that is the extent of his gratitude towards you, which is strictly circumstantial. You make things convenient sometimes.

Hopper dying hits all of you hard. And you do everything that you can to help your uncle not drink himself to death. It's the only reason that you don't regularly visit the Wheelers in California. Your uncle is a wreck. Hopper was the only man who truly felt like a friend to your very lonely (by choice) Uncle Murray.

Steve does single you out to ask how you're doing, knowing that witnessing Hopper's death was tragic. But you just tell him that the real concern is your uncle and Joyce, insisting that you will get by. Steve seems hesitant at first, knowing that you're not fine. He might hate you, but he still cares about a party member who got put through hell.

"I'm alive, Steve. So I need to carry on. For everyone's sakes. I'll be alright."

As time goes on...

You and Steve give Robin very conflicting love advice, when it comes to her crush on Vikki.

"VIKKI LIKES BOOBIES."

"Christ, Steve," you're groaning in the backseat. "Stop being such a damn teenage boy."

"I'm almost 20, Bauman," he scowls at you in the rearview mirror.

You make a face, exaggerating feigned apology. "'Scuuuuuse me."

Man, he could not hate you more. Steve is sure of that. You are the worst. Why are you here. You are just the worst. Every time he looks at you, all he sees is Murray Bauman but as a much hotter 19-year-old girl with way more better comebacks and select timing.

AND NO, THAT IS NOT A COMPLIMENT.

!!!!!!!!

Next thing you know, Chrissy Cunningham has been found dead in a trailer that belongs to Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Who, according to Dustin, is not only still in high school — he’s also friends with them? Yikes. But Dustin swears that he’s not a murderer.

You choose to believe Dustin. Much to Steve’s chagrin. In his mind, any chance that you get to disagree with him, you will gladly fucking take it. He is really committed to you being his enemy.

And you know what? Fine. You can play. You've been playing.

Eventually, Nancy comes back into the picture.

And honestly? Watching her be all into Steve again? As if she isn't in a relationship with Jonathan still? That pisses you off.

Not because you’re jealous. No, no. Not that.

…yeah no, it’s not that.

Nah, it’s the way this girl just cannot for the life of her figure out what she is feeling. Dear lord, woman. Pick.

Eventually, you comment on this. But not until Eddie Munson is suddenly roped into y’all’s crew and you both strangely hit it off. You share the same taste in music. You both compare concert history, listing off you're favorites and randomly bursting into song. Very scream-o, metal music. Eddie thinks you're the shit, and you make him laugh a lot. He also makes you laugh a lot.

Steve hates that. He really, really hates that.

But not because he is jealous. No, no. It’s not that.

…yeah, it’s definitely not that.

Nah, it’s the way you make friends with someone he isn't a fan of just to spite him. You know he doesn’t like Eddie. You know he feels replaced by Dustin for him. You’re doing this shit on purpose. He knows it. He just knows it.

Regardless, you both stand by each other throughout the whole Vecna ordeal. And Max? She loves you. Trusts you. A lot. You also tell her not to give Steve so much shit. So he’ll give you that.

But that’s all he’s gonna give you. And even that has its limits.

Whenever you all find out that Max is cursed, the first person that Steve finds himself looking at is you. Because you're the co-parent. You've gotta help him know what to do. You feel the exact same way.

You both witness her possession in he graveyard. You both help calm the kids down, and each other. Whenever Max writes letters to each of you, she looks at both you and Steve for a long time. A really long time. It's very uncomfortable.

...then she's finally handing you both a letter, and the look she shoots you both afterwards in really unsettling. Like she knows something.

But what the hell is there to know? That you both can't stand each other? NEWSFLASH: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT. So joke's on them.

...not Max though. She's in trouble. So she's allowed to know whatever the hell...that she...knows...?

You and Steve both profusely disagree with everyone about the idea of Max becoming the bait. In fact, it's the first time that you both are defending each other to everyone else. Whenever Max argues Steve, you tell her to listen.

"Steve has every right to be worried right now. We all do, Max."

She sighs, knowing that you're right.

And whenever Dustin tries to get quippy with you about stuff, Steve shuts him down real fast.

"Hey. Not cool. Bauman's in the right, check yourself."

Dustin also sighs, knowing that he's right.

Because you both know these kids better than anyone. You helped Mike ease up on Hopper, becoming that one older-sister figure he can actually go to and be normal around. Hell, he even hugs you. Mike never hugs anyone, except El. And Lucas? You and Steve are at every single one of his games, like proud parents. Will calls you whenever he wants to paint, knowing that you enjoy art. You've spent many nights painting with him, and even Steve will join with the other kids. They mostly just finger paint and bicker, but it's still lovely in its own sort of way. And then there's Dustin. The golden child, who both of you wanna hug and strangle at the same time. He is forever putting the two of you in close proximity, secretly loving the tension between the two of you. He figures that it's just because you both wanna be the favorite parent, and Dustin is too fixated on why Steve hasn't started dating Robin to even remotely suspect that you two could be an item.

There's a plan in motion now. It's in full swing, all groups peeling off. There's a new species added to the fucked up realm (the newly coined named for them is demo-bats) and you've somehow saved Steve's ass for the 3rd time. This guy seriously cannot catch a break.

But now, Eddie’s suddenly encouraging Steve to go after Nancy again. And damn, that bugs you. It really motherfuckin’ gets under your skin. Because Eddie doesn’t know the full story about what went down between them. Not even close.

You can't help yourself. You tell Steve this, once Eddie walks up ahead. But of course, Steve is rebuking everything that you are saying.

And then he's telling you that Nancy is different, and -- “actually, things are better.”

But you scoff at that, incredulously. And you're telling him to "wake up and realize that 1) she’s still with lover-boy Byers, and 2) you shouldn’t pine after someone who chose someone else over you."

You mean to say it kindly. Honestly, you try to.

But Steve doesn’t think so. And he’s faster. He’s also cruel.

“Maybe that’s why you broke us up, huh?" Steve is firing back at you with all that he's got now. "Because you’re used to that. Being the second choice. Weren’t you Clark’s best friend? Didn’t he drag you along until he ended up picking Becky? Yeah. Thought I didn’t know that, right? Or how you hung out with some of the basketball guys and never once got asked out by any of them? God, it’s so obvious. Also, it’s pathetic. You clearly hate seeing anyone happy. So hey, guess what? You got your wish: successfully ruining someone else’s happiness. Bingo! Congratulations, you won.”

It hurts. It really does. It fucking hurts.

Still, you do try to reason with him. It’s a little harsh, you’ll admit it. You’re not exactly speaking to him sweetly. But you try.

“All my personal love life issues aside —" you start, bringing your voice down and speaking as level as possible. "...which honestly, I’ve never even had something worth labeling as love — Steve, YOU still deserve to —”

“To suffer,” he cuts you off. “Yeah. I know. And the fact you’ve not had love? That just further proves my point. You admit it and yet you’re still out to get me. Because you’re fucking miserable.”

Alright, you’ve had it.

“I’m miserable?” you ask, ready to fire back. “Steve. You’re the one letting your ex-girlfriend — who didn’t even properly dump you — toy with your brain again into actually thinking she’s gonna pick you this time. She doesn’t deserve that. And you certainly don’t deserve —”

“You deserve nothing.” Steve is seething. Then hissing at you, “You’re bullshit, Bauman. You and your whack job Uncle. You’re both bullshit.”

So you stop. You let it go.

You let Steve Harrington hate you and suffer his own misfortunes. And you pretend that what he said didn’t just shatter your soul into a million tiny pieces. You nod at him, swallowing hard.

“My uncle is twice the man you’ll ever be. King Steve.”

It’s a pathetic last attempt. And your voice feels small, tight. But standing up for your uncle is better than yourself at this point. You walk off, away from him.

And Steve doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t tell you not to walk away. He lets you.

So he doesn’t see you cry alone inside of the upside down version of the Wheelers’ bathroom. He doesn’t see your heart break in two, and he doesn’t see you bite back the sobs sinking your teeth into your palms.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #dustin henderson

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ireadyabooks · 29 days

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Spring into Extraordinary Graphic Novels from I read YA! 🌷🎨

Graphic novels are one of our favorite reading formats here at I read YA! It’s always such a joy seeing an author bring their magnificent storytelling to life with their artwork or another artist adding their unique spin! The possibilities are endless when it comes to graphic novel styles, and that’s what makes them so perfect! There is something for everyone! We have compiled some of our recent favorite graphic novels below that you should absolutely check out as we welcome spring and warmer weather! Whether you’re looking for stories about an adorable daydreamer, a dark secret, or two boys simply falling in love, we have it all! Happy reading!

Rainbow! Volume 1 by Gloom & Sunny

From Tapas Media, the same webtoon platform that brought you Magical Boy, comes Rainbow!, a new LGBTQ+ YA graphic novel series!

Teenager Boo Meadows has pink hair and a very vivid imagination -- she has trouble separating from the real world. In her daydreams, she dances beautifully at balls or fights monsters as a magical girl. In reality, she has a complicated home life, work stress, school stress, and a wicked crush on the girl of her dreams. When a new student, Mimi, arrives at school, Boo starts exploring a side of herself that she never considered before. As she grows closer with Mimi, it may finally be time for Boo to face reality . . . Who is the real Mimi? The one in her dreams? Or the one in real life?

Rainbow! is perfect for fans of Heartstopper and Magical Boy, full of heart, adorable illustrations, and a storyline that any teenager can relate to!

Start reading Rainbow! Volume 1 now!

Escape From St. Hell by Lewis Hancox

In this sequel to the Indie bestseller Welcome to St. Hell, Lewis Hancox tells the hilarious, inspiring story of coming into his own as a trans man.

For Lew, figuring out he was a guy and wanted to live life as a guy was the end of our journey... and the start of a whole other journey. Escape From St. Hell charts all the changes that Lew wanted to be made in order for him to live as a young trans man -- changes not just to his own body and perspective, but to the perspectives of the family, friends, and enemies around him.

As he did in his bestselling graphic memoir Welcome to St. Hell, Lewis Hancox charts his journey with plenty of laughs, a good number of cringes, and an honesty that takes readers along for the ride of Lew's life.

Start reading Escape From St. Hell now!

The Deep Dark by Molly Knox Ostertag

From Molly Knox Ostertag, writer-illustrator of the New York Times and Indie bestselling The Witch Boy trilogy and The Girl from the Sea, comes a darkly beautiful story of identity, family, love, loss, and magic.

Everyone has secrets. Mags’s has teeth.

Magdalena Herrera is about to graduate high school, but she already feels like an adult with serious responsibilities: caring for her ailing grandmother; working a part-time job; clandestine makeouts with a girl who has a boyfriend. And then there’s her secret, which pulls her into the basement each night, drains her of energy, and leaves her bleeding. A secret that could hurt and even kill if it ever got out -- like it did once before.

So Mags keeps her head down, isolated in her small desert community. That is, until her childhood friend Nessa comes back to town, bringing vivid memories of the past, an intoxicating glimpse of the future, and a secret of her own. Mags won’t get attached, of course. She’s always been strong enough to survive without anyone’s help.

But when the darkness starts to close in on them both, Mags will have to drag her secret into the daylight, and choose between risking everything... or having nothing left to lose.

Start reading The Deep Dark now!

Heartstopper 5 by Alice Oseman

Boy meets boy. Boys become friends. Boys fall in love. The bestselling LGBTQ+ graphic novel about life, love, and everything that happens in between: this is the fifth volume of the much-loved HEARTSTOPPER series, featuring gorgeous two-color artwork.

Nick and Charlie are in love. They’ve finally said those three little words, and Charlie has almost persuaded his mum to let him sleep over at Nick’s house. He wants to take their relationship to the next level... but can he find the confidence he needs? And with Nick going off to university next year, is everything about to change?

By Alice Oseman, winner of the YA Book Prize, Heartstopper encompasses all the small moments of Nick and Charlie’s lives that together make up something larger, which speaks to all of us.

Contains discussions around mental health and eating disorders, and sexual references.

Start reading Heartstopper 5 now!

Stars in Their Eyes by Jessica Walton and Aśka

In this lighthearted YA romance, Maisie and Ollie discover that nothing beats the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

Maisie is on her way to Fancon! She's looking forward to meeting her idol, Kara Bufano, the action hero from her favorite TV show, who has a lower-leg amputation, just like Maisie. But when Maisie and her mom arrive at the convention center, she is stopped in her tracks by Ollie, a cute volunteer working the show. They are kind, charming, and geek out about nerd culture just as much as Maisie does. And as the day wears on, Maisie notices feelings for Ollie that she's never had before. Is this what it feels like to fall in love?

Perfect for fans of Heartstopper and Laura Dean Keeps Breaking Up with Me, this graphic novel debut is a fresh, one-of-a-kind story that celebrates the excitement of meeting someone special for the first time.

Start reading Stars in Their Eyes now!

The Good Neighbors by Holly Black and Ted Naifeh

From the bestselling author of The Cruel Prince, an astonishing graphic trilogy set in a faerie world, full of mystery, intrigue, and romance.

From the amazing imagination of bestselling author Holly Black and acclaimed illustrator Ted Naifeh, a mysterious and wonderful faerie saga, for the first time in one volume.

Rue Silver's mother has disappeared... and her father has been arrested, suspected of killing her. But it's not as straightforward as that. Because Rue is a faerie, like her mother was. And her father didn't kill her mother -- instead, he broke a promise to Rue's faerie king grandfather, which caused Rue's mother to be flung back to the faerie world. Now Rue must go to save her -- and defeat a dark faerie that threatens our very mortal world.

Start reading The Good Neighbors now!

#ireadya #yabooks #Rainbow!#Gloom & Sunny #Escape From St Hell #Lewis Hancox #The Deep Dark #Molly Knox Ostertag #Heartstopper #Alice Oseman #Stars in Their Eyes #Jessica Walton #Aśka #The Good Neighbors #Holly Black #Ted Naifeh #graphic novels

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leviscolwill · 3 months

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7. "if you win, i'll kiss you" with trent!!!!! 😩😩 bc we know he’s a competitive son of a bitch <333

congrats again on 600 baby! 🫶

- @lomltrentarnold 🪽

so come here and give me some kisses ★

pairing: trent alexander arnold x reader

note: thank u soooooo much for your request my lovely hana,, i hope u like it, i love writing competitive trent 🤭

this blurb was inspired by this video <3

now playing six thirty by ariana grande...

your relationship with trent was ambiguous to say the least. you liked him, well it was hard not to. and you knew he liked you too. hell, everyone at st george's park knew you liked each other. but he had yet to make any concrete move towards you.

trent was standing in front of you, getting mic-ed up for another pr video. they were never his favorites, but if he had a chance to beat his teammates, he'd always take it.

while you were polishing up the last details before filming with your colleagues, you shot a quick glance at trent looking oh so adorable in his apron. he walked towards you and rested his chin on your shoulder, giving you a quick smile.

“you know you're never winning this one right?” you told him in a cheeky tone with the sole purpose of riling him up. you knew just how competitive he could get, even with something as trivial as a bake off opposing him to hendo, dec and kieran.

“are you doubting my baking skills right now, love?” his accent thick and sassiness dripping from his voice.

“oh no, i wouldn't dare. ‘m just saying dec has a much better shot at winning than you.” you wouldn't trust declan with your kitchen even if your life depended on it, too scared you'd lose your whole flat in a house fire. but the sight of trent, chuckling to himself at your words was enough to spur you on.

he was a confident man, confident enough to know you didn't mean a word you said. also confident enough in his baking skills to know that he’ll win no matter what. but your teasing made the gears in his brain spin faster. “what do i get if i prove you wrong and win then?”

you took a quick look around to: 1. escape trent's face that seemed to get closer to yours by the second, 2. check if any of your colleagues caught up on the somewhat intimate moment you were sharing, only to find out they all left to do whatever they needed to do.

you thought a few seconds of what to tell him before an idea popped in your head. it might seem too bold, but truthfully you were sick of waiting for trent to make a move on you. “mmmhh...” you pretended to think for a couple seconds, “if you win this, i'll kiss you.”

trent looked stunt at your proposal, his brown eyes looking even wider than usual. “yeah! i mean, are you sure?” as much as he tried to keep up a façade, you could see right through his false confidence. the skin of his ears turning into a reddish tone and his eyes looking anywhere but in yours.

you quickly nod, before pecking his cheek. trent didn't get the time to fully register your action, you were already gone god knows where.

the next time your eyes meet, you were standing behind the camera with the rest of the communication team. trent was torn between exchanging knowing glances and smiles with you or focusing on baking his gingerbread man. he chooses the latter, well aware of the reward awaiting him when he'll win.

after some more baking, the results were in. and you could feel trent's stare on you while he was waiting expectantly for his name to be called as the winner.

and once it inevitably happened, trent locked eyes with you in a stare that could only mean one thing: ‘i told you, you know what happens now’.

your name was called and you had to leave before trent was done wrapping up the video. this gave you time to mentally prepare yourself, you didn't regret your impulsive bet but you were overthinking everything that might go wrong.

in the midst of your turmoil, two hands gripped your shoulders making you turn in surprise. you weren't too surprised to see trent behind you, you gave him a warm smile before making sure none of your colleagues were in sight.

“i told you i'd win.” his face was still glowing from his earlier triumph.

you reciprocated the smile on his face, meeting his deep brown eyes. “i know... i knew you'd win this.” you let your hand wander over his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body slowly taking over yours.

“i thought we had a deal...” trent's voice brought you out of your daydream. your movement suddenly stopped to look up at him.

you didn't give him a verbal answer, choosing to stand on your tippy toes before pressing your lips against his. you felt his lips turn into a smile against yours, before kissing you back with more passion than words could ever hold. his hands cupping your face to bring you even closer if that was possible, not ready to let go of you just yet.

once he did pull away, he looked at you with admiration sparkling in his eyes. his thumb stroked your cheek softly, while you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. what did this kiss mean for the two of you? were things going to be weird now? could you even kiss a player without consequ-

“so, i think the next step should be me asking you out?”

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drconstellation · 5 months

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Obligatory Reminders and Crossing the Lines

Have you been wondering why Shax tries to do a mail delivery to Crowley as he escorts the shop keepers to safety from Aziraphale's Eldritch Ball? It seems a pretty random thing to do at that moment.

SHAX: I brought your mail. CROWLEY: Why? SHAX: It stacks up by the front door. CROWLEY: Keep it for now, not a good time.

It's not the first time Shax has tried to give Crowley his mail. We first see her hand a pile over on the park bench in S2E1, while they have an introductory spy vs. spy catch up, in St James Park.

SHAX: I brought your mail. CROWLEY: Anything interesting? SHAX: Bills, mostly. I don't understand why they won't just deliver them to your car. CROWLEY: Send the bills to Hell's finance office. SHAX: I did. They say they can't accept my signature as your replacement.

Bills, mostly. That aren't being accepted by Hell's finance office, unless Crowley signs them. And they expect to find him in the official residence of Hell's ambassador plenipotentiary to this corner of Earth, in Mayfair.

Next, we see Crowley redefining all that mail as "junk" and discarding it.

uh huh. Lets ignore the conveniently placed disposal unit for the moment...

We need to stop and define what those "bills" actually are. Because they are not actually the financial type of bills. Well, they could be. But this is the GOmens AU, so they have a second meaning as well. Paying your bills is also meeting your duties and obligations to another party, and this is something Crowley is refusing to do right now.

I don't think its as simple as Hell being short staffed and they just haven't got around to doing the change over (I know I suggested the latter recently, sorry) and that's why they aren't recognizing Shax's signature. It's that Hell actually hasn't let Crowley go - he is still "on the books," so to speak, despite all that has been said and done since the Nope-ocalypse. He might call himself a "former demon," and he might call Hell his "former side," but that is definitely NOT how Hell sees it, despite the fact they aren't harassing him or giving him tasks to do.

Actually, that should be haven't been harassing him, because since Gabriel "disappeared," they have been back on his case. The mail is a warning sign, but Lord Beelzebub's summons really should have given you the chills.

Crowley protests that they had a "generalized understanding" that he would be left alone, but Beelzebub declares that "we don't."

Ah. So all is not as it appears. They are just playing nice because they want something (Gabriel) and in reality Crowley's position in relation to Hell really is fragile. Yet outwardly he seems more worried about Aziraphale.

It goes downhill from here. Shax begins to stalk him.

This image of Shax is just delish. The sharp "V" of her her decolletage reminds us of a stork's bill, her avatar animal, and it's stabbing down at the snake on her belt. She might be seeking the Frog Prince who escaped Heaven but she's also got a certain snake in her sights.

Shax can't can't cross the threshold of the bookshop without an invitation from Aziraphale. This plays into the old belief that supernatural creatures such as vampires, demons and faeries can only enter a house if invited in. We also see this extended to the Bentley, once "ownership" is extended to the angel, but the door of the bookshop is the important border here for now.

Then have this threat of war being declared:

War on Aziraphale, not Crowley, as they still consider Crowley to be on Hell's side. They don't see it the way Crowley does as Us and Them, to Shax there is still only Heaven and Hell.

So we come back to the second round of mail delivery:

Crowley is about to escort the human shopkeepers to safety and Shax confronts Crowley right on the threshold with his duties and obligations. He really doesn't want to have that conversation right now, not here and not with Shax. As far as he is concerned, he has no obligations to Hell any more, and he's not taking any notice of their demands in any form, either, so Shax may as well just get out of the way and take the mail with them.

And with that, Crowley crosses the threshold, leading the humans out.

At this point in the story you might be asking what's the big deal about that? Crowley has been going in and out over that doorstep several times a day lately, and has crossed it hundreds of times over the last couple of centuries since the bookshop was built. It's not a barrier to him.

The significance of this boundary line has been highlighted to us in S2. We have Shax actually telling us that she knows she can't cross the "threshold" in S2E3, then she asks again in S2E5 where the boundary line is just before Mr Brown is hauled off into the demon Legion. But its even more than that.

On one level its the line that Crowley has drawn for himself. He's not going back to Hell if he can at all help it, and he's quite resolute about that. It's his side or no one's side, from there on in. He reinforces that when talking to Aziraphale in the Final Fifteen.

On another level, I'm wondering if we could consider this a step on the eponymous Hero's Journey? Crossing the Threshold is one of the early stages of the journey where the hero crosses into danger or the unknown. We're shown things aren't normal outside by the mist and green light. Then he diverts off unexpectedly to Heaven with Muriel. Just throwing it out there to see if its worth exploring a bit further. I'd say we've only got the early stages of the journey in S2, with the remainder to come in S3.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #crowley #shax #your mail #junk mail #crossing the threshold #drawing a line in the sand #not a good time #duties and obligations #how will our hero cope?

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eddie-sweetheart · 2 years

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Spare me! - Part 1

You and Eddie have a crush on each other, but it takes Murray Bauman to make it embarrassingly clear.

Tropes: Eddie Munson x Henderson female reader, fluff, Murray exposing your feelings, forced proximity, a very soft Eddie.

Warnings: Mention and/or depiction of fighting and wounds, teeny-tiny diversion from the show's timeline (this one's more about the concept than the overall S4 plot😉).

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s notes: I recently rewatched all seasons of ST and noticed how Murray always knows what's going on in the gang's hearts... thought I'd give his Cupid skills a try with Eddie eheh

✨Part 2✨

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Happiness can be found in the strangest of things; but it never occurred to you that happiness - or, better, relief - might one day come into the shape of a faded and battered-down warehouse in the outskirts of Hawkins.

However, as soon as the once yellow and light blue building comes into sight as you come out of the woods at the side of the road, panting and with your feet hurting like hell from walking all that way, you almost feel like crying.

“We’re here” you state with a tired exhale, a smile warming up your face as you turn to your side. “We made it, Eddie”.

“Thank God” is all Eddie can mutter under his breath before tripping on his feet and almost falling to the ground. You rush to his side, throwing one of his arms around your shoulders as you try to support him.

“Hey, hey, stay with me” you tell him, your free arm on his chest, holding him steady. “Just a few more steps and then you can rest”.

You can feel his chest rising and falling into heavy breaths under the thin layer of his Hellfire shirt as he nods slowly. You’ve never been so physically close to him, you’ve never touched him like this - and sure enough, he’s never leaned on you like his life depended on it, as he’s doing now. The whirlwind of feelings is enough to send your head spinning, but now it’s not a good time for fluttery butterflies and quickened heartbeats: you need to take him inside before he passes out.

You’ve been walking through the woods outside Hawkins for hours after escaping Jason and his crew of insane jocks. You were supposed to bring Eddie some food at Reefer’s Rick, but when you reached the boathouse it was too late: Jason and his goons had found Eddie and had cornered him, turning him into their personal punching ball. He’d been able to stall them for a bit with the same broken bottle he’d used to attack Steve, but it hadn’t been enough.

You even tried to stop them, but Andy had mercilessly elbowed you away, making you trip and fall into the freezing waters of Lovers Lake. Soaking wet, you were struggling to climb back up on the floor of the room when it happened.

Patrick was suddenly frozen still, eyes white and blind. Andy noticed it first, and he tried to bring him back into consciousness by calling his name, shaking him, but you knew he was gone now. You took your chance as soon as the boy started levitating, knowing well enough what was next - and the horror and stupor that possessed Jason and the others as Patrick’s bones started to snap was just the diversion you needed.

While they helplessly tried to save their friend, in a rush of desperation you managed to rise from the lake, grab a semi-unconscious Eddie and make him barely stand up to get him into the boat in the middle of the room. And just as everyone else started to scream in despair at Patrick’s death, you were rowing away from the boathouse, towards the opposite shore of the lake.

Eddie’s wounds, thankfully, weren’t as serious as you feared; but he was bleeding, and you needed a safe place where you could contact the rest of the group and set up a meeting. You needed the help of someone you trusted, who wouldn’t ask too many questions and who lived reasonably close. That’s when it clicked.

You met Murray Bauman two years ago, when you went to his house with Nancy and Jonathan to expose the secrets of Hawkins Lab. Last year, he joined you and the others at Starcourt to bring down the Russians and their damned machine, which opened the Upside Down once again. He knows everything and he would understand - and that’s how you ended up buzzing his intercom in the middle of the night, with Eddie’s body slumped against yours.

“State your name”

Murray’s voice echoes from a speaker above the door. You really don’t have time or energy left for this ritual, but you know it’s mandatory.

“It’s me, Y/n Henderson” you urgently speak up, trying not to be too loud, “Murray, let us in - we need help”.

“Show your face” Murray adds through the speaker, his tone as flat as that of an answering machine.

“Murray, please” you hiss through your teeth, your voice edging towards desperation as you snap your head up towards the camera above you - wondering how he’s going to see anything more than a blurry shape in the dark.

A second later, the metal door of the warehouse swings open to reveal Murray Bauman standing in front of you, with nothing but a white tank top and matching boxers on.

“What do you want?” He asks you, his eyes lingering inquisitively on an almost zoned-out Eddie and his black eye. “You woke me up”.

“It’s back” you blurt out, “it’s back and we’re in danger. I’ll tell you everything, but we need a place to stay for tonight - he’s not doing well” you add, nodding at Eddie. “Please, Murray”.

Murray’s face suddenly turns pale at your words, and he gives you a single, silent nod. He then moves to the side to let you in, his head turning left and right to look at the street before closing the door.

You stumble towards the sofa, Eddie’s weight almost throwing you off balance as you carefully place him down. As soon as he lays his head on one of the pillows, he finally passes out.

“So” Murray addresses you, his head tilted to the side as he nods at Eddie, “who’s that?”

You adjust a strand of Eddie’s curly hair away from his closed eyes and check his temperature and breathing to make sure that he’s okay before turning towards Murray.

“He’s Eddie Munson” you explain with an exhausted sigh.

Murray’s eyes widen as if they’re about to pop out of their sockets, Eddie’s name immediately reminding him of the latest news reports on TV. “Munson? You’ve brought a wanted murderer into my home?” He exclaims under his breath, hands frantically moving in the air.

“He didn’t do it” you’re quick to add, a glimpse of anger straining your voice as you drop down on a chair next to a small table in the kitchen corner, “He’s innocent. I’ll tell you everything, I promise… but I need some water first”

Murray glares at you, but then he moves to the cupboard, grabs two glasses and proceeds to open the freezer.

“I think I have something better than that” he states, taking out of the cold compartment a bottle of vodka.

As you two drink a few shots, the liquor tingling down your throat and burning inside you (but bringing you some much needed comfort), you tell him everything from the start. How you met Eddie by giving Dustin, Mike and Lucas endless lifts to their D&D campaigns, how you and your brother looked for him with Steve, Robin and Max after the events at the trailer park, swearing by his innocence and supporting your claims with Max’s story about the flickering lights and Eddie’s own recounting of Chrissy’s death. How you’re now on the run from Jason Carver and the Hawkins High basketball team, and how you’re planning to meet with everyone else tomorrow.

Murray stares into the void as he listens, taking in every word and growing almost imperceptibly paler.

Once you’re done with the story, the bottle is half empty and your head is slightly spinning. Murray is looking at you with a resigned expression, still sipping on his fifth glass of vodka.

“You can stay” he finally tells you, “but just for tonight. I have a plane to catch tomorrow”.

Even if you knew he would say yes, you’re so relieved you almost hug him. You wouldn’t do that in any normal situation, especially not when he’s still half naked, but you’re so grateful that you’d even be willing to go past that.

However, before you stop yourself, he immediately puts up his hands, shaking his head.

“Uh-uh” he says, “Don’t come any closer, please - you stink. Go take a shower, there’s a clean towel you can use in the bathroom closet”.

Now that the pressing need to find shelter and let Eddie rest and recover is resolved, you remember that you actually need to take care of yourself, as well: your hair and clothes are still a bit damp (and, yes, smelly) from when you fell into the lake, and your side is hurting where Andy’s elbow crashed into it. And, now that your body is finally starting to relax, you’re realizing how exhausted you actually are.

You get up and head towards the corridor, stopping by the sofa to glimpse at Eddie. He’s still knocked out, hair sprawled around his face and a ringed hand resting on his chest. Your gaze softens visibly as you lower your head over his to check his breathing one more time - and you realize that he’s probably shifted into a sleeping spell.

“Can you keep an eye on him while I clean myself up?” You ask Murray as you straighten yourself up again.

Murray knowingly looks at you with his eyebrows raised. “Yeah, sure, it’s not like I’m going anywhere at this point” he blurts out, ushering you with a quick movement of his hands. “Now please go, go, go”.

You get into the bathroom and as you close the door behind you, you finally allow yourself to take a big breath. You carefully remove your t-shirt in front of the mirror to check the damage and you notice that a black and yellow bruise is already forming on your side. You touch it slightly with the tip of your finger and, yeah, it hurts, but it seems quite superficial and not that serious - Eddie has it worse, for sure.

You get into the shower and the hot water makes you sigh in pleasure as soon as it hits your tense shoulders. You’d love to spend a whole hour under the heavy flow, surrounded by warm steam, but you really want to check on Eddie and be there when he wakes up. So, with great effort and a lot of resistance from your body, you turn the water off and get out of the shower box, grabbing a large white towel from the closet that Murray mentioned and wrapping it around your body. Then, you tiptoe back into the living room, trying not to drip too much water on the floor.

“Do you have some clothes I can borrow, by any chance? Mine really need a wash” you ask Murray, who’s still sitting at the table while flipping the pages of today’s newspaper.

“Oh lord, and then what? A VIP ticket to Area 51 as well?” Murray sighs loudly while rolling his eyes, but he immediately pushes the newspaper away and gets up from the chair. “Let me guess: he’ll need my clothes too, right?” He asks you, nodding at Eddie.

“Uhm… yeah, I think so” you shyly reply, earning a glare in return.

“You’re lucky I’ve done an extra load of laundry today” Murray replies, pointing a finger at you before disappearing into the corridor.

You’re about to sit back down on your chair when a low groan makes your head snap around.

“Y/n” Eddie murmurs, his eyes flickering open as you rush to the sofa and kneel by his side on the carpet.

“I’m here, Eddie” you tell him, scanning his face as he comes back into consciousness and feeling his forehead with the back of your hand to check for any signs of a temperature.

“Wait, are you naked?” He slowly asks once he looks at you, still in a confused daze as a tilted smirk appears on his lips.

You let out a chuckle, your hands rushing to tighten the towel around your body. “Don’t even think about that, Munson” you reply, shooting back up on your feet as Murray comes back into the room.

As soon as Eddie sees him, he tries to sit up, but he struggles as pain makes him hiss at any attempt at moving. You help him, accompanying his body up by gently taking his hand with one of yours and placing the other on his back.

“Welcome back to the world of the living. Shower’s that way” Murray states, pointing back towards the bathroom before dropping a bundle of clean clothes on the sofa next to Eddie. “You can use these. I’m also getting you a first aid kit because, if I can be honest, your face looks like shit”.

“Uhm… thanks, man” Eddie tentatively replies, throwing a questioning look in your direction.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s told me everything already” Murray addresses him again, “I know you’re not a serial killer”.

Eddie’s shoulders drop, relief visibly filling him up as he grabs a pair of faded sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt from the pile next to him and manages to stand up, making a few steps towards the bathroom door.

“Do you… uh, do you think you need help with that?” You ask him, blushing slightly at the idea of following him.

Eddie turns towards you, his signature grin back on his lips now that he knows he’s safe. “I can manage that” he says, looking for support on the doorframe as he stumbles a little, “Besides, I don’t think you want to see the sweet old tatties on full display” he jokes.

Your cheeks get even redder as you desperately hope that he’s not reading your mind right now. “Yeah, uhm, cool” you reply, catching a glimpse of a visibly stupefied and slightly annoyed Murray behind you, “I’ll get changed in the meantime. Once you’re done, we’ll try to patch you up”.

“Roger that” Eddie replies, finally closing the bathroom door behind him.

“Was all that flirting necessary?” Murray asks you as he leads you to the guest room, where you plan to change into the remaining gym shorts and hoodie.

“It wasn’t flirting - we’re friends” you briefly explain, shutting his protests down. “I’ll be back in a sec and then I’ll need your radio” you’re then quick to add, getting inside the room and closing the sliding doors.

“We’re friends” Murray mocks you in a high-pitched voice as he goes back to the bottle of vodka, “Yeah, and I’m Russian”.

When you come out of the guest room and sit on the slumped sofa in the living room, Murray brings you his radio, dropping it unceremoniously on the coffee table. You thank him with a smile and start fiddling with the channels until you find the right one.

“Dustin, do you copy?” You ask into the speaker. While you wait for a response, the bathroom door opens to reveal a cleaned up, but still limping, Eddie. He stumbles back to the sofa and sits down next to you.

After a few minutes of silent buzzing, the radio crackles and Dustin voice echoes in the room.

“Y/n, thank god” he exclaims, his familiar voice making both you and Eddie smile, “are you guys okay? You didn’t check in when we called you”

“Yeah, uhm, we had a little setback” you explain, “Reefer Rick’s is compromised - Jason found us. But we made it out and we’re safe at Murray’s. Eddie’s here with me” you add, glancing up at him.

“Hello, Henderson” Eddie says as he leans down towards the radio, his damp hair brushing against your cheek.

“Munson” Steve voice suddenly echoes from the speaker, “do you know where Skull Rock is? Glad to know you’re okay, by the way”

“Hey, I was talking to them” Dustin mutters in the background.

You and Eddie exchange a look, then he gently takes the speaker from your hands to reply. His fingers lightly graze yours with the gesture, making your skin tingle.

“I know it, yeah” he says, nervously scratching his hair, “are we meeting there tomorrow?”

“Yes, ten o’clock, Skull Rock” Steve repeats, “We have to go now, but we’re keeping the line open if you need us. Say hi to y/n for me and try to be careful in the meantime. Over and out”.

Eddie places the radio speaker back on the table and slumps down into the sofa, his hands running up and down his legs.

“Hey” you ask him, placing a hand on one of his to calm him down. “Are you okay?”

He looks at you, his gaze softening. “That’s a good one, sweetheart” he replies, absentmindedly intertwining his fingers with yours. Your stomach turns into a swarm of butterflies as you notice the glint in his eyes - what is going on?

Murray coughs, and you both immediately let go.

“So, uhm, let me take a look at those” you stutter, nodding at the few wounds on Eddie's face as you gently touch him with the tip of your fingers, slowly moving his head side to side to inspect the damage. He has a split lip, a cut on his left cheek and a black eye, with some leftover blood dried just under his nose. Your heart tightens at the thought of what Jason, Andy and Patrick did to him.

“Murray” you ask, turning around to face him, “what about that first aid kit?”

“Yes” Murray exclaims, clapping his hands before rummaging through one of the kitchen drawers until he takes out a small, white box. “This is it, but I’ll leave you to it and go back to sleep” he says, handing the box to you over the sofa, “you know where the guest room is - just don’t be too loud, okay? I’m not in the mood to listen to you two-”

“Murray!” You exclaim horrified, as Eddie’s eyes run back and forth between the two of you in shock. “We’re not sleeping together- I mean, I will stay here on the sofa” you specify, feeling the heat of shame rising up your neck.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sofa - I’m sleeping on the sofa” Eddie interrupts you in mild confusion.

“Eddie, you’re hurt-” you try to talk back, but he puts one hand up to shush you.

“Nope” he says, shaking his head, “You brought this old, battered body here, you need to rest in a proper bed”.

“Exactly” you specify, “your body is battered, so that’s why-“

“GUYS!” Murray interrupts you with a yell, “Enough with that lovers’ quarrel. Just sleep in the same damn bed like you both clearly so desperately desire and let me rest in peace”.

“It’s not a lovers’ quarrel!” you and Eddie both exclaim, immediately exchanging a look.

Murray stares at you in disbelief as silence suddenly falls in the room - however, it doesn’t last long.

“Oh, spare me!” Murray finally blurts out, loudly. “Fucking unbelievable. Listen” he addresses you both, a finger pointed at your faces. “I’ve been through this shit twice already - Byers and Wheeler first, then Joyce and Hopper. It must run in your whole damn Ghostbusters slash Scooby-Doo group, I swear. You” he turns to Eddie, who looks at him with wide eyes, “you’re the nerdy metalhead that nobody in the whole world would ever love because he’s a freak, am I correct? So you hide behind an unnecessarily thick wall of sarcasm and cynicism because if you don’t put up that façade someone might actually find out that you crave to love, and to be loved. And what happens one day? You find her“ he adds, turning to you next. “And it’s a fucking cliché, because she’s your best friend’s sister and oh my god she’s untouchable and she will never look at you, right? Wrong! Because every time she looks at you - and boy, she does that a lot - she basically melts into the ground, turns literally purple, loses all sense of reason and logic and starts waking up people in the middle of the damn night to keep you safe. On that note: Y/n, stop lying to yourself and finally admit that you’re head over heels about him - and stop being so insecure, so dubious, so full of useless self-pity and worry. Open your beautiful girly eyes and get a grip, because YES - he’s head over heels about you too, okay?”

Murray takes a deep breath as you and Eddie sit there in silence, avoiding each other’s eyes like the plague.

“Good” Murray finally exclaims, proud of his little speech - he’s convinced he’s the best Cupid out there by now. “Have a good night, Mr. and Mrs. Just Friends” he concludes, heading towards his bedroom and locking himself in.

The living room is so silent that you can hear the faint chirping of the crickets outside the house. Your hands are sweating on your lap as their grip on the first-aid box tightens, your eyes locked on it because you’re too embarrassed to meet Eddie’s. Your mind is spinning as it tries to analyze every single interaction, every word you’ve exchanged with him, looking for any possible instance of you slipping up and showing your true feelings - and, for a second, you also consider looking for signs that might confirm what Murray has just stated. That Eddie might actually feel the same.

Little do you know that Eddie is doing the exact same thing. But he’s quicker to find a way to change the subject and tone down the awkwardness, because yes, he’s just been blatantly exposed, but making sure that you’re okay - that both of you are okay with each other - is way more important than finding a way to recover from Murray’s words.

“So, uhm…” he begins, stuttering lightly as he nervously starts playing with his rings. “Is there a… uhm, a bandaid or something in there?” He asks you, nodding at the kit with a tentative smile.

You snap back to reality. “Oh, yeah, I guess so - let me look for it” you blurt out as you open the box, fidgeting with its contents until you manage to find a tiny bottle of disinfectant, a few cotton balls and two bandaids with a red and blue polka dot print on them.

“Not so metal, I’m afraid” you tell Eddie as you show him the bandaids with a small smile that matches his own, making him chuckle as he realizes that yes, probably you’re still okay.

“As long as they keep these battle wounds from bleeding” he jokes, taking them from you before starting to peel one of them open, “I think they’ll do”.

“Oh no, wait” you exclaim, blocking him with your hands. If someone asked, both of you could swear that the sparkles erupting from your hands touching were brightly visible in the dim light of the room. “We need to clean those properly first”.

Eddie sighs in defeat and you proceed by pouring some disinfectant on one cotton ball, dabbing it on the cut on his lip and the wound on his cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know it burns” you apologize as you feel him holding his breath, guessing that it’s because of the pain. That’s true, but just in a very small part - mostly, it’s having you so close to him that leaves him breathless and clueless about making any move. He’s actually too absorbed in admiring your long eyelashes and how they flutter as your eyes attentively scan his face, counting the pale freckles and tiny skin marks scattered on your cheeks and nose, noticing the clean scent of shampoo from your still damp hair and the faint hint of your cologne still left on your neck. Actually, the burning is welcome to him, as it’s the only thing keeping him grounded and restraining him from doing something stupid and way too risky - like, he guesses, kissing you.

“All done” you finally state, tapping on the edge of the bandaid you’ve just placed on his cheek before moving back away from him. Both of you feel the space between your bodies, and it seems as deep as the ocean.

“Thank you, kind lady” he replies, his eyes still lingering on yours.

You both stand up at the same time, the awkwardness back in the room as you nervously look at each other with an embarrassed smile - because, you’ve just realized, it’s time to make a decision on the bed thing.

“Soooo” Eddie tentatively begins, taking a strand of his wavy hair and barely hiding his face behind it as he looks sideways at you, “Since there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on this sucker…” he begins, waving one hand at the sofa.

“Eddie, come on-” you try, but he accepts no protests on your side.

“And you’re too kind and stubborn to let me be the knight in shiny armor” he continues as you scoff, smiling, “I guess we could, uhm…” he concludes, words dying in his throat as a wave of insecurity washes over him. Maybe what he’s about to propose is way out of line…

“Share?” you ask, finishing his sentence - but it’s more a wish than an actual question.

Eddie’s lips curve upside down in one of his signature smiles. “If that’s okay for you, of course… I- I don’t mind” he tells you, waiting patiently for your consent as he begins fiddling again with his rings.

You give him one warm, matching smile. “Seems big enough for two” you say, nodding towards the bed that is visible through the sliding doors of the guest room across from you. “It’s okay for me”.

“Great… great, okay” Eddie states, finally taking a breath as he nods repeatedly. God, not even bullies at school have ever made him so nervous. He should really get a grip.

You head towards the room, bumping into each other as you unsuccessfully try to get in at the same time. You both let out a timid laugh and Eddie moves sideways, bowing slightly and showing you in with an extended arm.

“Ladies first” he theatrically states, letting you into the room.

You take a few steps inside and sit down on the folding bed, which is set up with clean sheets. Probably Murray got it all prepped when you were in the shower and Eddie was still knocked out.

“Good, I always sleep on the left side” Eddie exclaims, as he notices you’ve taken your place on the right edge of the mattress.

You chuckle as you lie back, while Eddie crosses the room to get to the other side of the bed. He lies down with a sigh, too, looking at you one last time for permission to turn the lights off. You nod slightly, tiredness already making its way through your exhausted limbs, and with a flick of Eddie’s fingers the room gets pitch black.

“Goodnight, Eddie” you whisper in the dark.

“Goodnight, sweetheart” he replies, the nickname he started to use as a joke (but that doesn’t feel like a joke anymore) escaping his lips before it’s too late, lingering in the air as silence falls between you once again.

You both turn around away from each other, facing the outer side of the bed. You close your eyes, feeling safe for the first time in hours (and, maybe, days), the comfort of Eddie’s presence next to you and the warmth of the blankets wrapped around you making your mind drift farther, and farther away…

But it takes you just a few seconds to understand that you can’t sleep.

It’s one of those cursed situations in which you’re actually too tired to get some rest, and as your body finally relaxes your mind jolts awake, fully active and functioning better than it ever did.

You sigh deeply, the mattress creaking loudly as you move to turn around and switch position - just to find out that Eddie has turned around as well, and he’s now facing you.

His breath warmly and regularly fans over your face, and you figure he’s asleep - until his voice breaks the silence with a whisper.

“Y/n” he softly asks, “are you awake?”

You smile in the dark, your eyes still closed.

“Mhm”

“I just wanted to say, thank you for today” he murmurs, “You saved my life. Very metal of you”.

“Anytime, Munson” you whisper back, “take it as a thank-you gift for keeping Dustin busy and relieving me of my big sister duties once a week for the past year”.

“That little devil” Eddie chuckles as he scoots closer to you. Your heart starts beating a little faster, as you feel the faint thread of electricity that has formed between your bodies. “I guess stubbornness runs in the family. But I’m grateful to him, actually” he adds, shuffling slightly under the covers.

“Why is that?” you ask him, the thought of sleeping now completely forgotten in some corner of your mind.

Eddie stays silent for a few seconds, then speaks again.

“I guess you don’t remember the first time you brought him to Hellfire” he softly says, and you think you can catch a glimpse of his smile.

“Actually, I do” you reply, the memory of that late September afternoon easily coming to your mind. “Especially because you kept staring at our car when we got there. Leaning against the school’s front door like a dark, mysterious character straight out of a fantasy novel” you joke, tentatively moving your hand in the dark to poke him.

And just as you actually find his body, Eddie finds your hand. His long, slightly calloused fingers intertwine with yours, his thumb drawing soft circles on your burning skin. He’s glad the lights are off, because he’s too scared that you’d back away if you saw the nervousness mixed with badly hidden love in his gaze.

“As nice as your car is” he says, chuckling, “I wasn’t staring at it, at all. I was…” he hesitates, before deciding to risk it all. “I was actually wondering how Henderson could have such a beautiful creature for a sister” he blurts out.

You lie still in the dark, speechless, your hand still into Eddie’s. Your brain is running ten thousand miles an hour, trying to wrap around what he’s just said.

“I mean, he’s a, uhm… a cute kid, I guess?” Eddie quickly adds, trying to make sense of his words, “but when I saw you I thought… I mean, I actually thought, that’s how Arwen must have looked like. And that’s how Aragorn must have felt when he, uhm… ”.

He can’t finish the sentence, because your hand has moved from the gentle grasp of his fingers to his cheek, pulling him closer to you until your lips meet in the dark.

The kiss is soft and slow, and you pour into it all the words you’ve never said and feelings you’ve kept hidden for months, careful to avoid the healing cut on his lower lip as you move. Eddie’s arms wrap around your body, his legs now intertwined with yours under the blanket.

You explore each other’s bodies - your hands through his hair, his lips down your neck, t-shirts lifting up and skin burning at any soft touch as the steel of his rings slides under the thick cotton of your clothes. You both feel safe, understood, and seen even in the pitch black of the room. It almost feels like meeting for the first time, too.

Eddie doesn’t let go of you, not even when you stop kissing to take a breath, the weight of the day now finally overcoming you both. As you lie in his arms, your head placed on his chest so that you can hear the beat of his heart, you realize that this is what true relief - or, better, happiness - must feel like.

“Guess your friend was right” Eddie says, his hand caressing your ruffled hair as his words are followed by a yawn.

“He usually is”. You chuckle, closing your eyes as your breaths deepen and slow down.

Then, you both fall asleep.

—♥︎—

✨Part 2✨

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x henderson reader #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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artemisthewh0re · 1 year

Note

WE NEED A LONGER VERSION OF TANGERINE GETTING SUCKED OFF IN THE TRAIN BATHROOM!!

possibly followed by tangerine being a soft dom whilst roughly fucking you. GOD THIS JUST SOUNDS AMAZING

black fem reader ofc !!

HOOKUP: The Extended Version

Tangerine x Chubby Black Reader

A/N: Ngl I had to Google what soft dom was. I hope I did okay!

Warnings: Public sex, unprotected sex with a one night stand, a little exhibitionism, interrupted sex, badly written British accents (sorry Brits I'm a dumb American)

Stifled grunts and heavy breaths are all you can hear between the legs of the man before you. All you remember are the lust-filled kisses that led you here and the quick utterance of the words "Name's Tangerine by the way," being whispered into your ear as he led you to the train bathroom.

Your plush, cherry red lips grip the tip of Tangerine's blushing cock. Red streak marks cover his shaft as you bob your head up and down. Despite both hands working down his shaft, he’s still too big for you please every inch of him. This thought is both slightly worrying and incredibly attractive, leaving your aching pussy dreaming about his length inside you. One hand moves down to his balls to gently massage them as the other puts in double the work to keep Tangerine satisfied.

"Fuckin' hell love," Tangerine moans as he uses your dreads to steer your head. ”Just like that.”

His long shaft reaches the deepest part of your throat causing you to gag. Tears prick at your eyes as he continues to face fuck you, allowing obscene noises to escape your lips. Your once perfect lipstick is no doubt completely ruined by the spit smeared on your face. Still the ecstasy of the moment distracts you from any worries, even as the train comes to a stop at Nagoya station.

Shadows of people move underneath the door as they exit the train. You both stop for a moment, too afraid that any sudden noises could alert someone to your compromising position. Tangerine almost looks angelic in the low light of the bathroom. His eyes are half-lidded and his breath is ragged. Sweat beads on his exposed chest and his hair is in disarray. Your attraction to him grows in the moment and you dip your head back between his legs, determined to give him the best orgasm of his life.

The strong thighs on either side of your head tense up in response to your tongue grazing his balls. You tentatively suck them, leaving more red smears in your wake. Tangerine’s moans are intoxicating as the train leaves the station. You doubted he’d ever made such noises with any of his other hookups. His eyes look like he’s been transported to another realm of bliss.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me!” His exclamation was only a muffled whisper, but it was enough to make you work even harder.

Saliva coats his length; long strings of it fly across your face when he pulls out of your mouth. Tangerine’s forehead beads with sweat as he jerkily finishes on your lips. His body relaxes and his head lulls to the side in relief. Your cunt aches uncomfortably as you wait for him to recover. Your eyes notice more about Tangerine’s features now that you're looking at him clearly. With his coat discarded you can see the tattoos on his forearm and the St. Christopher necklace hanging low into his shirt.

“What’cha lookin’ at sweetheart?” Tangerine asks after noticing your gaze.

“Nothing, just admiring you,” you say coyly, getting up off the floor and straddling Tangerine.

His heartbeat is fast under your touch almost like his heart was about to explode from his chest. Despite Tangerine’s obvious nervousness his suave demeanor never ceases.

“If anyone should be admired it should be you darlin’.” He lets out a silenced grunt as you slide down onto his still erect cock. “You are unbelievably gorgeous.”

Your cheeks flush in response to Tangerine’s flattery, but you can barely process it. Tangerine slides his hands beneath your thighs, guiding you up and down his shaft. The feeling sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine. Tangerine's warm breath tickles your throat as he places hasty kisses along it. Your hips roll in desperation for more, more contact, more pleasure. Sounds of slapping skin and subdued moans fill the tight space of the train bathroom. Other passengers have yet to notice the commotion, but the idea that anyone could stumble in and see you riding a stranger only added to your hornyess. Your intensified moans must have given your thoughts away.

“You like that huh? Me fuckin’ you next to everyone,” Tangerine whispers. He juts his hips into you repeatedly causing a deep moan to come from both your mouths. Your slick runs down Tangerine's cock, perfectly lubricating his movements. Tangerine’s fingers rub over the rolls on your hips, tracing every stretch mark delicately. More shadows move underneath the door as the train stops at another station. The murmurs fade away, but another noise replaces it: banging on the bathroom door.

“Tangerine hurry up, we need to get off here!”

A hand clasps over your mouth. “No we don't, we get off at the end of the line!” Tangerine yells back. Tangerine’s other hand guides your hips to continue the pace as he yells to the unknown man behind the door. This whole situation was odd, but also a turn on in some twisted way. A warmth deep inside you builds.

“No, they want to see the kid now!” says the man, now sounding a little more desperate. “Haven’t you checked your messages?”

“I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” Tangerine gives you a wink. “Sorry darlin’ but I’ve gotta cut this short,” he whispers in your ear.

You were expecting Tangerine to take you off his lap, but instead he pushes deeper inside you. Your pussy clenches hard when his tip brushes against the spongy spot inside your vagina. Tangerine’s hand continues to muffle the pornographic moans trying to escape your lips. The warmth in your core boils over, leaving you writhing in pleasure. Your orgasm rushes through your legs down to your toes and back. Shivers tingle your spine and your thighs shake in overstimulation.

“Fuck!” your exclamation is muffled but your sentiment is clear to Tangerine.

“I’d love to stay longer but I’ve got some business to take care of.” Tangerine places a peck on your lips before zipping up his pants. You stand up off his lap and watch as he collects himself. He’s kind of an odd businessman, at least you thought he’s a businessman. His confrontation with his partner leads you to believe otherwise. You're suddenly a little glad this mysterious man is leaving you but also incredibly curious. As the stranger you let fuck your brains out goes to leave the bathroom only one question comes out of your mouth.

“What the fuck kind of a name is Tangerine?”

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