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jo-harrington · 3 months

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Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction - Prologue: Crossover

Summary: Everyone wishes that they could have an Eddie Munson in their lives. In a strange turn of events, Eddie wishes that he could meet you, his favorite character from a cult classic 80's TV series. And he's about to get his wish.

Word Count: 3.9k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Reader

Warnings/Themes: No-Upside-Down AU, Minor Angst, Fluff, Isekai, Mentions of FOI-compliant events

Note: Hello and welcome. I'm very excited about getting to expand on this idea; it's going to be a wild ride. Please note as you head in, and as we get into further chapters...this fic is going to be a little mind-fucky and a little bit self aware. This is my love letter to and my criticism of fanfiction, but at the end of the day, we're still gonna get to fall in love with Eddie and get some kind of Happily Ever After. This is my guarantee.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

May 2022. Such a weird time.

A time of uncertainty, a time of change. A time where the world seemed like it had been torn apart and was slowly being knit back together again.

But then a switch was flipped. Something happened. An old season ended and a new one started and with that start came something new. Someone new. And suddenly, countless people began to yearn for this new person in their lives.

A new, old person. Eddie Munson.

Joy ignited. Creativity sparked. Millions of words written and read. Edits made. Art drawn. Merch bought.

So many voices crying “why isn’t he real. WHY ISN'T HE REAL.”

If there was a god, he would let them have their own Eddie Munson. And if there was a Satan, he would let them sell their souls for Eddie Munson.

That’s just not how the universe works.

At least…not this one...

October 1985. A different kind of place and time. Still weird.

But Eddie Munson was real.

Sometimes to his detriment.

And for the most part, it was alright.

He played guitar, laughed with friends, mocked bullies to protect the people like him that were considered less than. He'd overcome hardships of one sort or another for most of his life, he could keep at it for a little while longer.

It would be his day week month year sometime soon.

Wouldn't it?

But until then, he would bide his time. Hopefully, this year, he'd pass all of his classes and finally graduate. Get to flip that douchebag Higgins off and snatch up a long-awaited, and well-deserved diploma.

What made it all easier, what softened the blow...was you.

It was silly. He knew that. Ronnie used to tease him on Wednesday nights when he needed to run home because he had a "standing date with his girl."

"Your girl doesn't even know you're alive," she'd scoff as he bustled her into the van. "She isn't real."

No...no you weren't.

Why couldn't you be real.

See, for the past...however long Eddie had spent his late nights half-assing homework, planning campaigns for Hellfire, working on music, and watching a television show. His guilty pleasure, a show about the ups and downs and upside downs of living in a sleepy suburban town: Port Geneva.

A show where you were his favorite character.

And crush.

You weren't the main character--in fact, you were just the main character's quirky best friend--but you were a fan favorite, as much as he could tell. You'd only been in the background during the first season, but before long you were front and just-left-of-center. And last year, you'd even gotten a two-episode arc in the season finale as you turned the small town on its head by announcing, a month or two before graduation, that you were quitting school to follow your dream and become an artist.

And man...Eddie had been there.

He'd actually missed those episodes airing when...well, when everything happened with his father and the heist...and the house...and Paige.

He'd missed a lot of episodes that season. Missed seeing you come into your own as he tried and failed to come into his.

Thankfully Wayne--and Eddie wasn't a believer but whatever deity in charge needed to bless his Uncle Wayne--had the foresight to tape those episodes for him.

Those tapes would be cherished 'til the day he died, because they had truly gotten him through those tough days after everything.

He wished he had seen them when they aired, maybe...maybe he would have made some different decisions if he had.

Of course, Eddie had already loved you before then.

Since he had first laid eyes on you, actually.

He was sure that if you were real, you would be the one to understand him more than any of his friends. See the real him. In return, he would understand you, be there for you too.

He already had been. He'd seen you cry countless times, he'd laughed with you, celebrated your successes and mourned your failures. He'd been there for you when you crushed on that dickhead Mark, and then had your heart broken by the careless jerk.

And somewhere deep down inside of him, when he was sitting in that jail cell after he wasted his phone call on Paige and he felt the weight of the world bear down on his shoulders…he wished that you were real so he could have called you instead.

If you were real, Eddie's life would just be a little nicer.

He knew…he just knew.

Of course, in the mean time while he wished with every fiber of his being that you would walk into his life, he brought you to life in other ways. During mid-season and summer hiatuses, he would write you into his DND campaigns. His friends knew, they always called him out for it.

"Are you seriously making her an NPC man?" Dougie would scoff and throw a D20 across the table at him.

"No, what are you talking about?" he defended and threw the die right back at his friend. "This is Spiria the Bold."

"Uh huh," Jeff rolled his eyes. "Sure."

By his imagination and his pen, you became a powerful warrior, a sharp-tongued trickster, a seductive mage. You became anything he wanted you to be--most often with a companion and lover that mirrored him--and everything he knew, deep down, that you were.

And then the unthinkable happened.

September ‘84. He and Wayne were in the checkout line at K-mart. Cart stacked with new clothes and school supplies and groceries. When suddenly...there you were. Right in front of him.

Alright, not you. Per se. But your face, smiling alongside Samantha and Patrick and Scotty and Bill on the cover of the TV Guide.

On Set with the Stars of Port Geneva.

Wayne was the one to snatch the magazine from the rack and add it to their bounty, a knowing smile on his lips as he shook his head.

He knew Eddie needed a little pick-me-up.

Or a big one.

How could he have known this would be anything but one...

Eddie scoured over the pages once they got back to the trailer. He was hoping there would be a big enough picture of you that he could cut out and tape to the otherwise barren walls of his new room. And there was; you were leaning against the back of your signature pastel blue Volkswagen Beetle, arms across your chest, head tilted to the side with the signature scrunched smile you gave when you were embarrassed.

He adored you.

Before he took scissors to the page, he read the interview with your actress.

He wasn't too keen on her, even though she had your face.

The illusion that Rosemary Glass was really you had been shattered the first time he'd heard her voice on a radio interview; instead of your perfect and familiar middle-American speech...Rosemary's voice was accented.

Not to mention, she sounded pretentious.

Gross.

Still, he could look past that annoyance if he got some kind of insight to what the next season would bring for you.

Hopefully not a new love interest. His heart could only take so much.

...gives us a tour of the Patterson and Son's set, one that is forever enshrined as the setting of Patrick and Samantha's first kiss. "Oh I'm actually not fond of that scene," Rosemary confesses. "Yeah it's sweet, and the way I bring Sam in so Pat could confess his feelings but the...when I fell down? It was not scripted. And I was honestly shocked they kept that in. But fans seem to think she's clumsy now because of it. That I'm clumsy. When I just tripped over a wire. It's quite awful, really." We ask Rosemary to tell us what she'll miss most, now that the show is coming to an end...

Eddie went rigid as he read those words.

The show...coming to an end?

"What?" he exclaimed into his empty room. "No, no, no."

He carefully examined the article again, then turned back to the beginning of the feature, only to feel his heart stop in his chest.

The title of the feature was like crit hit.

The final killing blow to his already weak constitution.

One Last Summer in Port Geneva - On the Set of the Final Season

The final season was a sham.

Eddie savored every episode, though. Of course he would!

He would enjoy every last moment with you that he could get before he lost you forever. But...he hated it.

It was lazy writing--seriously what were they thinking--and a quick, cheap means to tie up all the loose ends they'd set up over the years. He could tell they tried to deliver as fulfilling a finale for the extensive cast of characters as they could. Still, he was sure he could have done better.

Samantha and Patrick got engaged after graduation. That was lame.

Bonnie finally quit the bakery to open her own cafe the next town over. Didn't anyone remember that she wanted to quit because she wanted to be a vet instead? That was the whole point of her! She didn't want to follow in her family's footsteps and she was doing just that.

And you? You took a backseat.

Instead of leaving town right after graduation--something that you had followed through reluctantly to make your parents happy even though you had just resolved to put your own happiness first for once--you stayed to help Pat plan his proposal.

Your big adventure, your big push for your dreams, were on hold again. You played second fiddle over and over until the final episode.

Eddie was grateful to have you for a little longer, but...once again annoyed that you were looked over--over and over, just like he was--when you had already proved that you were worthy of top billing.

Worthy of being the main character for once.

Still, at the beginning of the series finale, you packed your bags, cashed in your savings account, and drove out of town. The future was yours, just like it was always meant to be.

And Eddie cried.

The whole time tears streamed down his face as you said your own watery goodbyes. He might have even waved as you stuck your hand out the windshield to say goodbye to your friends as your car idled at the last stop sign. You blew a kiss to everything you knew and loved then started on your way into the unknown, car getting smaller in the distance right before the commercial break.

He held his breath for the final scene: a walk through the house where it all started and then Sam smiled her signature hopeful smile as she shut the door on the audience.

The screen faded to black for one final time and he exhaled.

"It's over," he muttered in slight disbelief, suddenly unsure of what to do with himself.

Port Geneva was over, and you were gone for good.

It was a strange feeling.

Heartbreak, mourning, disappointment? He couldn't really know for sure. Empty was the best way to describe it; the lack of feeling. It was infuriating. Port Geneva was just a television show, he attempted to rationalize for the nth time since he started watching. You were just a character on a tv show; how could you mourn for someone and something that wasn't even real?

You hadn't actually died. He could still see glimpses of you if he wanted, whenever Rosemary Glass' next movie came out or something.

But that wasn't you.

You were gone, for all intents and purposes, and it was a blow that hit Eddie hard.

How could he go on without you?

Devastated, he got high that night after he stewed on his grief. He day-dreamed and monologued to an empty trailer about a universe where the two of you were together, where your travels took you to Hawkins, of all places, and you fell in love with him, just like you were supposed to.

If the walls could talk, they would have a fantastic tale to tell. One with heroes and misunderstandings and love at first sight. One with a horrible, unseen foe and many pitfalls and dangers that exceeded anyone's wildest imaginations. One with a magic door that led to the happily ever that was beyond well-deserved.

Grief did wonderful and terrible things, after all.

He woke up for school the next morning with cotton mouth and a vague outline of a story that did just that: brought you to Hawkins to fall in love with him and all of the other things that seemed like nonsense once he was in a more right-minded state.

The only problem was that it was all in his English notebook. And he didn't need anyone finding that.

"Fuck," he groaned and ripped the page out. He shoved it into his bedside drawer, where it would be doomed to a crumpled and forgotten future.

Or until he needed a condom.

Which, considering how everyone had doubled down on their disgust of him, wouldn't be any time soon.

But there you stayed.

Put away, like old obsessions and childish things, to be ignored and forgotten.

At least for a little while.

Eddie tried.

He did.

He kept you and Port Geneva out of sight and mind as much as humanly possible. It was the most effort he had really put to anything tangible in the past year.

The series ended at a weird time--during the middle of the season--and some investigative journalism show took over its time slot. Barbara Walters couldn't hold a candle to you, so it wasn't difficult for him to keep himself rooted in reality on the nights where he typically indulged in his silly fantasies.

The daydreams that he had were limited to lyrics for Corroded Coffin originals and ideas for Hellfire, and nights were spent alone in the darkness of the living room, with his reflection in the television set to keep him company as he tried his best to do homework that he'd already done before.

Before he realized, though, the school year was coming to a close and he was--big shocker--on the brink of failure. It wasn't until Higgins called him into his office, again, that you made your violent resurgence into his life.

There was a tentative truce between Higgins and Eddie for a while.

Civility was a strange thing for both of them. They actively avoided one another, save for a snide jab here and there, and Eddie tried to stay out of the Principal's Office as much as he could.

That is, until Higgins was forced to tell Eddie that he needed to repeat his repeat senior year.

"Don't act like I want this at all," he sneered at Eddie who tripped over a reaction. "I'd rather have you out of these halls for good. You drop out one year, then you re-enroll and you fail another. Try to make the most of it this time Munson; I don't want to have this talk again."

Eddie grumbled the whole drive back to the trailer, and he fell onto the sofa with his head in his hands once he got in.

"Which one of the fates wrote this stupid plot for me now, as if last year wasn't enough. You can't make this stuff up sometimes."

He laid there, wallowing in his misery for hours, days, years, until it got dark enough for headlights outside to be noticeable as they shined through the window. There was a glint of a reflection that caught his eye and had him turn his head.

"TV," he sighed and reached out as though he could touch the set and stacks of tapes neatly piled below. “The cause-of and solution-to all of life’s problems.”

He contemplated his life for a few more minutes.

He could make the most of the final few weeks of the school year. He could set himself up as a willing and reliable pupil for these last few assignments and tests, even though they wouldn't mean very much.

He could do all of these things so that when he walked into the halls of Hawkins High in the fall, on his absolute last first day of school--whatever deity or powers-that-be willing, because how "getting the hell outta dodge or he would die here" turned into "two extra years in that shit hole" he could only attribute to cosmic intervention--the faculty would already know he would try his best this time.

It would show them he was serious about graduating and that he would succeed despite all odds against him. Finally.

He could do this.

Or...

He could put in one of the tapes from the stack and scrounge for loose bills left over from his last few transactions and order a pizza. Pretend like he didn't exist for a little while.

And given the choice?

Eddie Munson chose the latter.

And he continued to choose the latter throughout the summer and even into the fall.

Nights that he didn't already have plans were spent in front of the television.

They were cherished nights with you.

Aside from his VHS recordings, he found a channel that showed reruns of Port Geneva after 10pm. Two hours of small town shenanigans that might very well be found just outside of his own door--if he only went and looked--with you just there, making your appearance every so often and catching his eye.

Homework was sometimes left halfway done on the coffee table until he needed to switch out a tape, or change the channel, and he spent more time filling his heart than enriching his mind, so to speak; he knew all of this school stuff already anyways.

Third times a charm and all right?

He talked to the screen more often than not, tried to warn you against one disappointment or another. Sometimes, if he was watching one of his tapes, he'd pause right on your face and just talk to you. Mundane things, usually, like Ronnie's last phone call home or some album that got released and a song he thought you might like.

Other nights, like tonight, he got vulnerable. Moments where life seemed a little extra trying, and he'd confess his feelings to your image.

Knelt on the floor in front of the coffee table, warm light bathed his face promising comfort as he spoke, and the din of static emitted from the television set, akin to an angel's voice...beyond understanding of humans.

He'd never been one for church, but this kind of confessional was sacred enough.

An eternal bond, just you and him.

He stopped his ramblings at that thought.

It was a strange moment of clarity.

Where had that come from?

"I..." Eddie looked down at himself, a foot away from the television set, remote clenched in his hand. Then he looked at you, soul-filled eyes just beyond the glass, not looking at him, only...through him, just past him. "What am I doing?"

What was he doing? He was...he wasn't a kid anymore who could hide in his dreams; well, honestly he was always going to do that, but this was different.

One minute he felt the weight of the world lift off his shoulders as he told you about his troubles, and the next it was all back, heavier than ever, as he realized how silly this all was.

And here he was, wasting his life knelt at your altar.

It wasn't holy. It was pathetic.

You'd never answer; you weren't real.

"Why?" he asked aloud, jaw clenched. He gripped the remote tightly. "What did I do to not have...someone? Huh? What have I ever done to be alone? That I have to rely on a fucking television character to feel understood. And now I'm losing my mind talking to myself, talking to you, at midnight every night. Why am I here wishing that you're real? Why couldn't you just...be...real?"

If there was a God, he would let Eddie Munson have you. If there was a Satan, he would let Eddie sell his soul for you.

And that's how he knew neither of them existed: you didn't exist either.

Eddie hit the eject button on the VCR and was about to shut everything so he could go to bed, when there was a crash outside.

Crashes in Forest Hills weren't abnormal--someone backing into trash cans, losing traction on the icy roads in the winter, and the one time Mrs. Dawson kicked her husband out and threw all of his things out the window--but it was something he'd gotten used to since he came to live with Wayne.

This crash, however, started a ruckus.

Someone was yelling and that stupid dog across the way started barking.

Eddie was a lot of things...but a dramatic gossip was definitely high on the list.

What else was there to do in the Midwest?

He grabbed his cigarettes from the bowl full of junk on the coffee table and stepped outside, fully intent on plopping down on the old couch on the porch to smoke and watch the scene unfold.

A car crashed into the telephone pole; didn't look like there was much damage but it had run through some trashcans and might have clipped the drivers side mirror off of Mrs. Mayfield's car. The same Mrs. Mayfield who was on her own porch being held back by Max as she yelled.

"Are you kidding me? It's fucking midnight!"

"Mom! Stop!"

"The car, Max!"

Maybe there'd be a fight.

He barely got his cigarette lit when he noticed--really noticed--the offending car: a powder blue Volkswagen Beetle.

He blinked several times and then rubbed his eyes, thinking it might have just been a trick of the light or something.

Or it was a coincidence.

Or a dream.

Maybe he'd had a heart attack and died in front of his television or something?

Plenty of people drove Volkswagen Beetles. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Nancy Wheeler asking her parents for one as a graduation present.

But with the same license plate number?

The same one from the show, the same one that was in the TV Guide all those months ago. The same one on the makeshift poster he had taped on the wall next to his bed, that he'd run his fingers over to "kiss" you goodbye countless times, just like he did to his guitar.

"It's just dark," he tried to convince himself, "and I'm tired, and...and..."

It was a coincidence. It was a dream.

He repeated the mantra over and over in his head like a lifeline.

It was another fan like him who just used fantasy to make their life a little better. That's all he was trying to do too, right? He could understand; hell, if this was a new neighbor, maybe he'd be able to chat with them about the show. Wouldn't that be something?

Eddie was so distracted making up endless excuses for himself that he didn't notice Mrs. Mayfield as she threw her hands up in the air with an exaggerated "I'm calling the police. He didn't hear Max holler at her mom to calm down, or see the tail lights of the Beetle turn off either.

It wasn't until the driver's side door swung open and a sneaker-covered foot crunched against the gravel that he forgot all the excuses he was conjuring.

And his heart stopped as the driver got out of the car and stood in the faint glow of the streetlight.

Because that driver was you.

Next Chapter: Alternate Universe

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#Eddie munson x reader #stranger than (fan)fiction #stff #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #stranger things fic #stranger things Eddie munson #Eddie munson #stff updates

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drowsynyuu · 2 months

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SPIT ON IT!! ミ★ s. geto

NSFW BELOW~ jjk masterlist!!

cw: this is just a tiny fic- nothing big, oral (masc receiving), sloppy headddd, praise, he cums on your face… 🧍🏻

a/n: couldn’t get this idea out of my head my godddd 😮‍💨🙏🏼 my best fics are always written while listening to tory lanez or trey songz i swear ‼️

“oh shit..” suguru smirked as he watched you spit on his cock, looking up into his eyes as you took it into your mouth. “there you go, baby..” he murmured, groaning softly from the feeling of your mouth taking in his dick.

“i always forget how good you are at sucking dick..” he teased, sucking in his breath as he felt your tongue swirl around his tip. “holy fuck..” he rested his head back.

he felt the vibrations of your chuckles that left your lips, his voice breaking ever so slightly as he gripped the sheets. you pulled him out of your mouth, your hand giving his cock lazy strokes. “you like it, sugu?” you asked, smirking as he nodded.

“fuck yes..” he moaned, his eyebrows knitting together as his moans sounded out in the bedroom. “fuck!” he groaned, feeling your hand give his cock a little squeeze before taking it back into your mouth. “keep going, baby.. gonna make me cum soon..” he sighed, his throat bobbing a little as he rested his head on the headboard, glancing down at you after a moment. he nearly lost it when he met eyes with you, looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours as your lips were wrapped around his cock.

you were doing it so sloppy, your spit all over his cock and your lips. your eyelashes fluttered slightly as you pulled his cock out of your mouth once more, stroking him as you aimed his tip at your tongue, a little smirk on your face as your tongue lapped at the precum leaking from his tip.

that sight alone made him lose it, his voice breaking as he moaned— his cum shooting out on your tongue and some even landing on your face. you of course licked it all up before lolling out your tongue a little, showing him how he swallowed it all like he liked.

“fuck baby.. always managing to suck the soul out of me..” he joked, closing his eyes as he panted softly.

#🩷.drowsynyu.🩷#🎀 divider is by cafekitsune 🎀#jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jjk smut #geto suguru smut #suguru x reader #suguru x reader smut #geto jjk smut #geto x reader #geto x reader smut #suguru geto x reader smut

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aemondsbabe · 4 months

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Two Souls, Entwined

summary: dreams & dirty talk || helaena has been plagued with visions; things between her and her lady in waiting finally reach a boiling point

pairing: helaena targaryen x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, mutual pining, angst but happy ending, dry humping, breast/nipple play, dirty talk but make it poetic and loving, slight aegon slander i broke my own heart, i love helaena sm, there needs to be more content for her i love her, let me know if i missed anything!!

word count: 4.1k

a/n: happy day ten of 12 days of smuff!! i'm actually very excited/proud of this one, it got a lot more personal than i was expecting! really feeding that scared bi girl i was in middle school idk. i hope y'all enjoy it!!!

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @merrypembertons

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

Helaena sighs when she opens her eyes and blinks, disoriented by the early morning light, her head still clouded with sleep.

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers to the emptiness of her chambers, the cryptic phrase a familiar one now as it had been making its home in her head for the past few weeks.

Sitting up with a groan, she pauses at the edge of her bed, staring blankly ahead as the cloudy figures from her dream seem to swirl around her still. She was growing frustrated with the shadowy shapes, as much as she hated to admit it – she did not often enjoy her dreams, they often brought news of unpleasant tidings, secrets that she alone seemed expected to bear, but for the past few weeks her dreams had been… pleasant. Joyous, in fact. Yet they seemed much further away than the others, only revealing small slivers of information to her night after night.

She smiles softly as she gives one last glance out the window before padding over to the vanity in her chambers, determined to brush out her hair before the maids have the chance, they were always too rushed and hurried. Her mind drifts back to her dream as she runs a comb through her fair hair; lately, this mysterious dream seemed to be the only thing she could focus on for very long.

The figure in it seemed so familiar, moving around her as if it was an old friend, someone safe. She sighed again as she thought, blushing despite herself as she recalled her latest vision, remembering how the shadow had moved about her, as if in a courting dance, before it leaned in closely, though if it were for a kiss or to whisper a secret she didn’t know.

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” She repeats, as if the repeating will somehow reveal more.

It puzzles her greatly, the feelings of safety mixed with distinct romantic desire, a deep wanting from somewhere within her. There aren’t many people she even feels safe around, and even less so those she’d ever felt romantic longing for, and a much shorter list followed of people who had ever felt romantic longing for her. She feels secure around her mother, of course, and grandsire and her precious younger brothers, but she cannot help but wrinkle her nose with disgust at the thought of romantic intent with any of them.

She blinks, setting her hairbrush down and biting her lip as she thinks. I feel safe with Aegon, she ponders, brows knitting together, He’s never given me a reason to not feel safe but… She sighs, not bothering to finish the thought. She was well aware her marriage was one of politics, not of love. She remembers there had been whispers of many suitors when she’d finally come of age; everyone from Aegon and Aemond to her half-sister’s bastard sons had been considered, and though Helaena appreciated some more than others… she didn’t desire any of them.

Before she can help herself, her blue eyes flit over her own curves as she gazes at herself in the mirror, wishing, as she had so many times before, that she could reach out and feel her own reflection – feel a mirrored twin with similar soft skin and supple flesh. She wishes that soft, delicate fingers could touch her as well; she had grown tired of rough, battle worn touches long ago.

Someone I feel safe with and feel romantic longing for, she thinks again, blinking rapidly as a familiar face immediately springs to mind yet again, just as it had every time she’d pondered this mystery for the last few weeks, only growing more frustrated. It can’t be, she’d decided that long ago, long before this vision began.

But...

The Gods only ever seemed to show her visions that were assured, that would come to fruition, one way or another. Maybe… maybe that meant that y–

No, she thought, locking eyes with her reflection, Don’t be ridiculous.

She smiles as she hears her chamber doors opening, at the same time they do every morning, and turns around on the ornate, cushioned chair at her vanity, her eyes locking with your familiar ones as you waltz it.

“Good morning, Princess,” her heart beats a mite faster at the sound of your voice, at the bright smile that graces your lips as you stride to her, “I trust you slept well?”

“Good morning, sweet friend,” she greets you brightly, standing and pulling you into a hug as she did every day, “I did, quite peacefully, actually. And you?” She asked, trying to ignore the small voice that longed to hold you more closely, as she did everyday.

“I did as well,” your hand lingers in hers for a moment as she steps away, sitting back at her vanity as the maids arrive, instantly fluttering around the two of you like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, “After we break fast, would you like to come to the gardens with me?”

Helaena merely nods, though inside she buzzes, her heart fluttering like a bird’s wings.

I would follow you into the Seven Hells, she longs to say.

You wake with a small start, your hand instantly flying to your lips. You could swear they still tingle for a second from when she’d kissed you, just before you’d woken up. Blushing, you glance around your chambers, as if there would be anyone else there, and finding them empty leaves you both relieved and disappointed all at once.

Sighing, you slide off of your plush bed and walk over to your small vanity and use the small wash basin to splash water on your face. A small thrill shoots up your spine as you glance over your shoulder in the mirror, knowing from the position of the light filtering through your windows that it’s nearly time to go find your friend.

Friend.

It’s a funny word, you think, not one you would have imagined assigning to the princess all the many years ago when you’d arrived at King’s Landing, young and eager to be a lady in waiting for Helaena. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your lips each time you think of her, your quiet, captivating princess. You meet your own gaze in the mirror and frown, looking at yourself in the way a disappointed parent would look at a child.

Not yours, you chide, like repeating it over and over would make it hurt any less, Not yours, not yours, not yours.

Sighing yet again, you rise from your spot at the vanity and quickly grab your robes, eager to escape your own thoughts.

“This one is the iphiclides podalirius,” Helaena says, her voice soft as she marvels at the delicate butterfly perched on the back of her hand, “More commonly called the scarce swallowtail, I believe. It’s truly remarkable, normally they don’t travel this far north, though I’m told they’re a common sight in the gardens of Sunspear.”

“Then we are quite lucky to see it,” you smile, setting your embroidery hoop on the bench beside you as you study the yellow and black striped insect, though your eyes seem to drift to the princess on their own; you can’t help but smile as you see the way her beautiful sapphire eyes light up as she examines the small creature, “It’s very beautiful.”

Like you, you think, swallowing down the words.

“Would you like to hold her?” Helaena asks, looking at you hopefully.

As always, you nod, aware that you were the only one who seemed to entertain her fascination with insects and plants. Selfishly, you liked that.

Slowly and carefully, Helaena guides the butterfly onto the back of your hand; the two of you sitting close together, close enough for your shoulders to press together. A giggle leaves you at the feel of the insect's feet on your skin, so small and light, like tiny, faint kisses.

“Perhaps she was drawn to the hydrangeas,” the princess muses, “Those are new this year, though I suppose any of the other very colorful plants would spark her fancy as well, like the lilac or poppies or…”

It takes you a second to notice that she’s gone quiet next to you and you finally tear your gaze away from the butterfly, frowning slightly when you see the look on her face, her blue eyes hazy and unfocused as they flit back and forth like she’s watching figures you cannot see.

“Princess?” You ask softly, reaching out to take her hand, only halfway aware of the butterfly fluttering away, “Helaena?” You ask again, a bit louder, gripping her hand tighter.

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe…” She whispers, so faintly that the words scarcely leave her lips. Your frown only deepens, your eyebrows knitting together as you shake your head, trying to make sense of her words.

“What?” You ask softly, used to hearing her mutter odd phrases but seeing her in a trance was something altogether different, “Helaena? Should I go fetch the maester?” You don’t know why you ask her, not expecting a response.

The figure danced in front of her again, clouded in darkness, though instead of feeling cold and empty like the dark so often did to her, these shadows hugged Helaena like a blanket.

She blinked, and suddenly everything changed, becoming clear as if she’d blinked away tears. The clarity was startling for a second as the edges of the figure sharpened before her, still leaning toward her as if it meant to whisper an amorous secret.

Finally, her eyes focused and in that moment, she felt as if she could be knocked over by the air current made from the flittery wings of a butterfly.

You.

It was you, just as she’d always suspected, standing before her as if you’d always been there.

Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe. The phrase repeats in her mind like a mantra as she stares at you, marveling at the way you stare at her.

Like she’s precious, something to be fawned over. Something to be… loved?

Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as she reaches out, her fingers finally skimming over your cheek.

She could cry, perhaps she is crying, she doesn’t know. The only thing she’s sure of is that this feels so right, like a puzzle piece within her has finally shifted and slotted into place.

Just as it crosses her mind to lean in and kiss you, the vision falls away, words echoing in her mind as the gardens come back into focus.

Not a friend.

Yet...

Not a foe.

“Helaena, please!” You beg, urgency coating your voice as you lean in closer, closer than you’d ever dared before, praying to see some spark of recognition in the princess’s eyes.

Suddenly, she seems to come back to herself, gasping as you jump back away from her, startled.

“Oh!” She breathes, blinking a couple times before her blue eyes finally fix themselves on you, “I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

You shake your head quickly, moving back toward her and taking her hands in yours once more, your heart twisting as you notice them trembling slightly. “There’s no need to apologize, I’m just happy you’re alright.”

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, Helaena staring at you in a way that makes your cheeks heat up, as if she’s seeing you for the first time, before she seems to catch herself and look away, much to your disappointment.

“Was that one of your dreams?” You ask softly, looking down to where her hand rests within yours.

“Yes.” She says simply, her eyes locked on the way your fingers overlap hers as she desperately tries to ignore the voice in her head telling her to enterwine them.

“What did you see?” You ask, catching her gaze again. There’s a fire in her eyes now that makes you shiver.

She’s quiet for a moment, neither of you so much as breathing as you stare at each other – the princess looking at you so intently you wonder if she’s trying to hear your thoughts. You pray she can’t.

“Nothing of importance,” she says finally, pulling her hands away and standing from the bench suddenly, “They’re just shapes, really. Fuzzy things.”

“Alright,” you smile as you stand with her, picking up your embroidery hoop from where it had been abandoned at your side, “If you ever wish to discuss them, I would be more than happy to listen.” You tell her, desperately wanting to hold on to whatever moment you had just shared with her.

She merely nods with a small, soft smile and holds her arm out for you to take, “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late for supper.”

The fire warming your skin from the hearth in Helaena’s chambers normally felt cozy and inviting, but tonight the heat of it was stifling as the two of you sit in silence. Each of you is presumably working on an embroidery piece, although the atmosphere feels more like that of a stalemate with each passing moment.

You can feel her looking at you, sneaking glances every minute or so. You imagine she can probably feel the same, perhaps that’s why she keeps looking your way, because you can’t seem to keep your eyes off her either.

Finally, the tension in the room seems to boil over and you can’t take it anymore; your fingers dig into the wood of your embroidery hoop as you gather the courage to speak.

“Have I… Are you cross with me?”

“Pardon?” The princess asks, jumping a bit before laying her hoop at her side, her eyes wide as she looks at you unabashedly now.

“You, well, you keep looking at me. I just, I’m hoping I haven’t offended you in some way.” You chance a glance at Helaena and quickly do a double take, heart clenching in your chest when you see that she looks as if she’s about to cry.

“You haven’t,” she breathes, shaking her head emphatically, locks of pale hair cascading down her shoulders as she does, “I simply… I was considering the dreams I’ve been having, the one I had earlier today.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“You’ve been in them!” She says suddenly, loudly, like she has to force out the words.

“What?” You blink.

She sighs heavily and swallows, wringing her hands on her lap. “You were in them. You have been for weeks.”

You wonder if the princess can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you blink, silently praying to whichever of the Gods may be listening that Helaena’s dreams and your dreams were not somehow intertwined. In the back of your mind, you knew your pleas were useless.

Your mouth opens and closes a few times like a fish that’s been plucked from the water before you finally find your voice, “What… what am I doing in them?” Your whole body buzzes, fearing the answer and desperately needing it all at once.

The princess hesitates, you want to scream as you can all but see her weighing her options in her mind before she finally, finally speaks.

“Courting me, kissing me.”

A small withering, wounded noise passes your lips at her words. You feel dizzy, the room spinning as you feel as though the entire world is crashing down around you while at the same time, it’s as if a mountain’s worth of weight has been lifted from your shoulders.

“And your visions… they only show things already fated to occur?” You feel frozen as you ask, not a muscle in your body moving. You know the answer even as the question leaves your lips, but you need to hear her say it.

Helaena sighs and shakes her head, a frown cutting across her pretty face, “That’s why it’s frustrating,” she bites, spitting the words like the mere act of explaining is painful, “This one cannot come to pass, I do not understand why I see it…”

She keeps speaking, talking through her annoyance, but the sound of your own blood pumping wildly through your veins blocks out her words.

No, your head pounds as you silently scream, No, no, no! Please, just let me explain, give me a chance, I’ll do any—

A loud sob cuts through your thoughts; the world seems to wrench its way back to you as you look at the princess, eyes widening when you see the tears flowing down her flushed cheeks.

“You could never truly wish to…” She says slowly, brokenly, words fading like she can’t even bear to say them.

“I do.” The words feel punched from your chest like you’re holding your heart out to the open air.

Helaena’s ocean eyes cut to yours as her breath hitches, the both of you not daring to move a muscle as you sit together on the small sofa in her chambers; the fire crackling in the hearth is the only indication that time has not ceased to exist.

You aren’t sure who moves first, maybe the Gods have threaded the two of you together so tightly that you move as one, you can’t be sure.

But her lips are on yours.

And her hands cup your cheeks as yours scramble to fit around her waist, four hands poised on a knife’s edge.

You sigh against each other, pulled together like a knot in a thread, and you gasp as you find yourselves pressed together, chest to chest.

Finally, you part for air, panting together as you stare, foreheads pressed together.

“Princess—“

“You love me?” She asks, swiping a thumb over your cheek; it’s only then you realize you’re crying.

“Yes,” you breathe, your hands grip her tighter, pulling her impossibly closer to you, “And you?”

“Yes,” she echos, her thighs slotting over one of yours as she climbs atop your lap, “You are my heart beating out of my body.”

Her words zap through you and your heart twists in your chest as your hands clamber against her, your lips press against hers again urgently. Twin moans, muffled into each other's mouths, sound between you as your hands cup her rear, pressing her more urgently against you.

“You are beautiful,” you sigh, hands grabbing at her plush curves through the silk fabric of her skirts, “You’re so soft and —“

“Warm,” she breathes, moaning into the column of your neck as her lips move against your skin, “You’re so warm, my love, like the sun.”

My love. The pet name sends a shiver down your spine as the two of you move together, pressing kisses against whatever patches of skin you can find, rocking together instinctually. The firmness of her thigh presses deliciously against your center, your skirts rucked up enough to bare your smallclothes, which press welty against your core.

You gasp, pressing a kiss to the princess’s collarbone as her hips move tantalizingly on your thigh, the warmth between her legs nearly suffocating as you whimper and sign against each other’s soft skin.

“I have always loved you,” you confess, nearly coming undone as she begins tugging at the ties at the bosom of your gown, her hands shaking as she pulls them loose, “Always, from the first moment I saw you.”

She makes a noise between a moan and sob as she finally tugs your bodice loose, and you whimper as her lithe fingers ghost over your breasts, causing your back to arch into her touch. “I’ve always loved you too,” she sighs as her soft hands cup your chest, kneading the flesh in her palms, “I always wanted to court you, marry you, I,” her voice breaks off in a faint, high-pitched whine as you finally manage to unbutton the bodice of her gown, she savors the feel of your lips and hands against her breasts for a moment more before continuing, “Gods, I wished to bed you, I’ve always longed to know what you would feel like, how sweet you’d taste.”

Her confessions nearly make you weep as you kiss over the fat of her breasts, keening into her supple skin as she delicately pinches at your nipples, “I have only ever thought of you, my sweet princess,” your chest heaves as you speak, your words muffled as you lick over her nipple, “When I sleep, when I wake, when I–” The words stick in your throat as you freeze, peering up at her through your lashes, somehow still impossibly afraid of going too far, or too fast, or too anything.

“When you what?” She asks, her voice so soft and sweet as she stares down at you, her fingers digging into your breast and side as her sapphire eyes flit between yours, “Tell me, my love, when you what?” She urges, her hips moving somehow more desperately against yours, only serving to fuel the fire slowly building within you.

“Gods, when I touch myself,” you whisper, shuddering as she lets out a breathy moan above you, “When I peak, sweet princess, I think only of you.” Your confession ends in a sharp gasp as she angles you backwards, anchoring you to her with an arm wrapped tightly around your waist. Her lips trail down your neck and collarbone before finally, she presses firm, fiery kisses to your breast, panting as she wraps her petal pink lips around your nipple and sucks, pressing her thigh more firmly against your center as she does.

“I think only of you too,” she breathes, blue eyes fluttering up to yours as your hands tangle in her pale locks, “Every time I touch myself, I dream of you,” she mumbles around your breast, her touch all but burning into you as she kisses across your chest before mouthing at the other side, “When my brother beds me, it is you I see, my precious lady.”

You practically sob as her admission sends you reeling, each cell in your body bursting like lightning from a stormcloud as you peak. You’re useless to do much else other than tremble in her hold as shivers travel in currents down your spine, your smallclothes no doubt ruined as your center clenches frantically at nothing, your pearl so taut and achy as it twitches against the princess’s thigh.

You don’t waste a second when your high subsides, moving frantically as you push Helaena back, slotting yourself perfectly atop her, pressing your thigh between her legs like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Your skirts fan out around your bodies, blanketing your forms in a soft sea of silk, your bare chests pressed tightly together as you rut against her, needing to see her awash with pleasure more than you need breath in your lungs.

“My love, my sweet princess,” you sigh into her mouth, your tongues swirling together as she all but cries beneath you, her hands digging possessively into your waist, “I am yours, my love, until the end of my days.” You swear, pressing your thigh tightly against her center, and your heart soars as she finally shatters in your grasp.

You watch, enraptured, as she peaks; mesmerized at the blush that blooms on her skin, at the way her blue eyes roll back as her eyes flutter closed, at how her breasts heave as she sucks in desperate breaths. The sounds she makes seem to pierce into your soul, each whimper and moan and cry ripping away parts of you until your heart is stripped bare, beating only for her.

The two of you lay in a heady silence for many moments, the only sounds being your soft, panting breaths as you each come down and the ever-present crackle sounding from the hearth.

“Your friend is not a friend yet not your foe.” Helaena whispers, her voice raspy as she speaks.

“Pardon?” You ask, pulling back from her embrace just enough to meet her gaze.

“That phrase,” she explains, her eyes glimmering in the firelight as a smile steadily blossoms on her pink lips, “I kept hearing it, in my dreams about you.”

You stay silent, tracing soft circles on her soft skin, leaving room for her to continue.

“I wasn’t sure at first, but now I see.”

“Hm?”

You aren’t my friend, the Gods spoke truthfully,” she beams, radiating joy as she studies your face, “You’re my love.”

Her statement is simple, but it makes you smile all the same as you press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“Yes,” you nod, pulling back to meet her eyes as you lay a hand over her heart, “Always.”

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc @fan-goddess @wickedfrsgrl @moonriseoverkyoto @echos-muses @schniiipsel @avidreader73 @marvelescvpe @imawhorecrux @grsveeth0m

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grandmother-goblin · 4 months

Text

The Best Kind of Gift

Ao3 - Masterlist

Summary: When Gale's preparations for an end of the year party fall behind schedule, he expects a mad rush of cooking once he gets home in order to have everything done on time. His wife has other plans.

(The smutty Gale holiday fic! The world was against me getting this done in time lol)

Relationships: Gale x Female!Tav

Rating: Explicit (18+) for smut.

Word Count: 5.2k

Tags: Smut, oral sex, cunnilingus, fingering, penetrative sex, breeding kink, light dom/sub, she calls him 'Sir', hypothetical talk of pregnancy.

Four hours ago.

Gale was supposed to have been home four hours ago.

The sun had long since set by the time he unsequestered himself from his office at Blackstaff Academy. He was only supposed to have been on campus for an hour or two. Just long enough so he could finish enchanting Sarana’s present and wrap it in secrecy. It was the first year they got to spend the winter holidays together as a married couple, and he had wanted to do something to make it special for her.

While he was glad that he finished the present, the enchantment took much longer than he expected. He simply lost track of time. Most days, that would not have been a problem. But most days, Gale had not made a promise to his esteemed colleagues to provide several main dishes for their end of the year gathering.

Gale brushed a snowflake off the tip of his nose with the back of his gloved hand as he walked beneath the orange glow of a street lamp. Snow-slicked sidewalks meant he couldn’t rush himself, and he had exhausted his magical energy creating Sarana’s gift so creating a portal was an impossibility as well.

Gods, he was so screwed. The gift was definitely worth it, but he was definitely screwed.

Clasping at the collar of his thick, gray overcoat, he pulled it a little tighter, wishing he had remembered to bring the scarf Sarana had knitted for him. Sarana did so much for him. Everything from the Netherese orb, the whole ordeal with Mystra, to dealing with the Absolute… She even moved to Waterdeep for him. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to.

For him.

If she had asked, he would have gladly done the same for her.

There wasn’t another soul out there who loved him the way she did. She always told him that he was enough, just the way he was. That he didn’t need to do anything or get her anything to prove his love for her. Although giving his lover a gift had gone catastrophically wrong in the past, he still wanted to get Sarana something.

Unfortunately, the gift-giving would have to wait. There was so much that needed to be done before the party. So much food needed to be cooked, he had to factor in time to make himself presentable and not to mention travel time.

As he made his way down the road toward the home he shared with Sarana, he mentally ran through the list of things that needed to be done.

The honey glaze ham would take the longest. Even if he started the oven the exact moment he arrived home, he’d still be at least an hour late by the time the ham was ready. Then there were the bacon-wrapped dates, the savory hand pies, and Morena Dekarios’s signature seafood stew. Not to mention at least three types of cookies; chocolate chip, cinnamon sugar, butter cookies…. The list seemed endless.

Once again, his own ambition was his worst enemy.

Thankfully, he had done the majority of the prep work the night before. Sarana had offered to help out in whatever way she could, but he hadn’t wanted to trouble her. Still, she insisted on at least doing the dishes. Although, all that work mattered very little anymore. It would take a bloody miracle for him to get everything done in time.

With a defeated sigh, Gale pulled his keys from his coat pocket as he arrived at his front doorstep. Though his fingers were numb despite his gloves, he managed to unlock the door to his house with little trouble.

Maybe, he thought as he pushed the door open, he could just pick something up from a restaurant on their way to the party. It wouldn’t be nearly as impressive as a home-cooked meal, but he promised to provide food.

Showing up empty handed simply wasn’t an option.

The wall of warm air that greeted him the moment he stepped into his house felt like heaven after trudging two miles in the snow. It was a relief to take a breath of air that didn’t send an icy chill straight to the back of his throat and his lungs. Gale removed his overcoat and gloves, hanging both on the coat rack by the front door, before sitting down on a nearby bench to unlace his winter boots.

It was as he worked on unlacing his boots, his body gradually recovering from the cold, that he noticed it. The sound of music from his enchanted piano, Sarana humming a cheerful tune, and a mouthwatering melange of aromas that make his heartbeat quicken.

Gale could smell the salty-sweetness of roasting, honey-glazed ham. There was the scent of garlic and melted butter and spices. Of chocolate and cinnamon and sugar. He couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips even as anxiety tugged at his stomach.

Gale knew Sarana was perfectly capable of cooking and following instructions, but she didn’t do it very often, saying that she preferred his cooking to her own. But when she did decide to make a meal for them, it was always something simple. Delicious, but simple.

Though Gale had told Sarana what he planned on making for the party, he hadn’t provided her with the recipes. Not because they were secret or anything like that, but simply because he thought he would be home to make things himself. While most of the recipes themselves were straightforward, the way they were written were not. Several of them were family recipes that just had a list of ingredients and instructions like ‘measure with your heart’. Most definitely not very friendly to a cook going in blind.

“Sarana?” he called across the house, not sure if she would be able to hear him over the sound of the piano. He toed off his boots, leaving him in just his thick socks, dark slacks, and a deep burgundy sweater Sarana had knitted for him and started toward the kitchen.

He didn’t make it two steps before Tara landed at his feet.

“Mr. Dekarios!” she greeted, staring up at him in a disappointed yet affectionate manner that only cats could manage. “Heavens, you’re late. You must see what your lovely wife has done in the kitchen in your absence. You’ll be so happy.”

Gale narrowed his eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

Tara’s side brushed against Gale’s calf as she passed by. “I would never,” she said and hopped up onto the bottom step of the stairs that led to his wizard tower. Without offering any further elaboration, she bid him farewell with a flick of her fluffy tail.

Though everything smelled wonderful, Tara’s words gave him cause for concern. On one hand, she didn’t particularly enjoy it when things went wrong for Gale. On the other hand, she did enjoy seeing him sweat on some occasions. Kept him humble, so she claimed.

Brow furrowed with a mix of concern and curiosity, Gale started toward the kitchen.

Lantern lights above the counters and fire cracking in the fireplace from the adjacent living room illuminated the kitchen in a soft orange glow. The kitchen table was filled with trays upon trays of hand pies with a golden, buttery crust. Steam from a large metal pot on the stove swirled and disappeared into the air, carrying the delectable scent of exotic spices throughout the entire room. Then there were the cookies.

So many cookies.

Gale’s mouth fell open as he stood in the entryway, taking in the sight with an equal sense of wonder and disbelief. When he had smelled the food cooking, at most, he had thought Sarana might have gotten things started. Not that she would almost be finished with everything.

Sarana had her back turned to him as she removed yet another tray of cookies from one of the two ovens in his kitchen. A little smile tugged at his lips when he realized that she was wearing his apron, which was far too large on her, but it did a decent job of covering up her pale pink sweater and dark brown leggings. She had her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, highlighting the sharp beauty of her Gith features; her tiny nose, the adorable spots on her cheeks, her delicately serrated ears, her plush pink lips that deserved at least a million kisses.

Gale gathered himself before he got lost staring at his wife again, which happened more often than he cared to admit. “Good heavens, Sarana,” he said as he stepped into the kitchen, looking to see that yes, she even made the bacon-wrapped dates.

Pretty much everything he had planned was done, and from the looks of it, it was down quite well. Exceptionally well, as a matter of fact.

“Gale!” Sarana greeted with a big, sharp-toothed smile that always brought a flutter to his stomach. “Sorry I got started without you because I know how much you enjoy this. But look—” she tilted the cookie sheet toward him ever so slightly so he could clearly see what was on it “— I made little wizard cookies.”

Lined up on the tray were the most perfect gingerbread cookies Gale had ever seen. They looked soft and chewy, the edges of them were clean and sharp, making the silhouettes of wizards in pointy hats and robes. Rounded feet and hands gave them a cute, whimsical quality. She bit her lower lip as a smile still rounded her cheeks, looking adorably proud of herself as her bright blue eyes gazed up at him. “I was gonna give them all little peppermint sticks for staffs.”

If there wasn’t a hot tray of cookies between them, Gale would have kissed her right then.

He ran his hand through his hair as he took in the kitchen once more, a small breath of laughter passing his lips. “This is incredible,” he said and approached the counter, completely taken away but the sheer amount of effort she must have gone through. “I can’t believe you did all of this. I can’t begin to thank you enough.”

Sarana set the tray of gingerbread cookies on the counter and removed her oven mitts. “It was no trouble at all,” she said with a bright smile and untied the apron. “Once I realized you were running late, I figured I’d get started. Tara was kind enough to show me where you keep your recipes and Us helped out a bit as well.”

“We stirred,” Us said directly into Gale’s mind with that cute, yet creepy, voice of theirs. Although he couldn’t see where the little intellect devourer was, the creature never strayed far from Sarana.

Well, except when Us had to hunt. Given its diet, that was probably for the best. Though Tara had mentioned that ever since the creature moved in there had been an uptick in pigeons flying into windows. But Us made Sarana happy. Gale supposed he didn’t mind that Us was likely singularly responsible for lowering the collective IQ of the pigeon population so long as it kept its promise not to hunt more intelligent creatures.

“You truly did not have to do this for me,” Gale said and placed his hands on Sarana’s hips, spinning her around so they were face to face. “I feel absolutely awful. Grateful, but awful knowing that you went through all this trouble due to my careless—”

With a swiftness that took him by surprise, Sarana playfully pushed a warm cookie against his lips. “Gale, it wasn’t any trouble,” she said with a smile as he accepted the cookie.

Cinnamon sugar dusted the soft, golden brown cookie. When he bit into it he was met with buttery richness that practically melted in his mouth. It wasn’t his recipe, he noted, but he was definitely going to add it to the Dekarios family cookbook.

With sugar surely still on his lips, he pulled Sarana in for a kiss, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of gratitude for the woman he had married. He could feel her smiling against his lips. He couldn’t help but smile in return.

“You know, not everyone can pull off something like this,” he said, gesturing to the entirety of the kitchen.

“Well, I was raised by halflings,” she replied with a twinge of pride in her voice. “Big family dinners and food with friends is kind of a thing for us. If I didn’t know how to make a full meal with a couple of potatoes and whatever I could find in the pantry, my mother might have considered sending me back to the crèche.”

“I think our mothers would get along well.”

“Oh! Speaking of your mother, I want you to try the stew before we add the fish,” Sarana said and guided him to the pot simmering on the stove. “I saw that it was your moms recipe, so I really didn’t want to mess it up.”

When Gale tasted the broth off of the wooden spoon Sarana offered to him, it immediately brought him back to his childhood. The spices, the tomatoes, the hint of lemon juice; it was all spot on.

The sense of love and warmth that washed over him in that moment was almost indescribable. There was just something about Sarana learning his mother’s recipe that just felt so unbelievably special. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that bright, wonderful feeling building in his chest.

Quietly, he reached for a dial on the stove and turned down the temperature of the burner below the pot just a bit. “How much longer does the ham have in the oven?”

A cute little wrinkle in Sarana’s brow formed. “A little more than an hour. Why? Wait. Do you like the stew?”

“I love the stew,” he replied and placed his hand on the subtle curve of her waist. “But I love you more. And I feel like if I don’t kiss you now, I might explode.”

With a giggle, Sarana stood on her toes and looped her arms around his neck. “Well we certainly can’t have that.”

Gale brought one hand to her jaw, his thumb brushing over the little black spots that decorated her golden cheeks. Tilting her head up, he lowered his mouth to hers in a slow and tender caress. He could taste the faintest hint of something sweet as his tongue coaxed her lips apart, deepening the kiss.

Her fingers sank into his hair as her lithe frame melted into his. Without breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her, suddenly feeling like he was not able to hold her close enough or tight enough.

A small flick of her silky tongue against his ignited a fire somewhere deep in his chest. Every brush of her lips made that fire grow brighter, burn hotter. There were no thoughts in his mind except getting closer to her, wanting nothing more than to share the flame that she had sparked within him.

His cock strained against his trousers, prodding Sarana’s stomach far too eagerly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sarana certainly didn’t seem to mind either, judging by the way she rubbed herself against him. Gale groaned when her hand slipped between their bodies and she cupped him through his trousers, giving him a gentle squeeze.

He pressed himself into her touch shamelessly as his hands trailed down her sides. Then with one strong movement, bent his knees and linked his arms just under the curve of her backside. She gave a little squeak of surprise when he lifted her off her feet with ease.

“I think we have time for a little break, don’t you?” he asked as he began to walk her towards the living room.

Between Mystra curing him of the orb and Sarana’s insistence of having a work-out partner, Gale had gotten into probably the best shape of his life. It wasn’t but a few months ago that he wouldn’t have dared to try such a thing for fear of pulling a muscle. But now? Gods, he loved being able to pick her up whenever he wanted. She certainly seemed to enjoy it as well.

Soft hands cupped his face as she stared down at him, Sarana’s eyes were filled with so much love it almost hurt. “If we don’t, we’ll make time.”

He took her lips in another brief, silky, caress. “Good.”

Another giggle burst from her lips when he deposited her on the couch. He wasted no time caging her beneath him, cradled between her legs as he captured her mouth with his again. Those little laughs of her quickly dissolved into the sweetest moans as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer and kissing him as if she could breathe him in.

His hips moved between her legs in subtle, instinctual movements as his mouth trailed down to her neck. When he reached the collar of her sweater, he pulled the material aside and nipped at her collarbone, marking her skin and drawing out a pleasured gasp.

Blunt fingernails lightly dragged across his scalp as Sarana tangled her fingers in his hair. “Gale,” she breathed as her hips tilted up, grinding herself against the hardened ridge in his trousers. “I want you.”

Gods, he wanted her too. Muttering an incantation under his breath, he ran his hands slowly down her body as if he were memorizing them for the first time. Her soft, cashmere sweater shimmered and vanished under his touch, sent away to the nearby armchair. Gale cupped her rounded breasts, his thumbs teasing her nipples as the lacy material disappeared with another glimmer of magic.

He drew one rosy-pink nipple into his mouth, sucking and lapping at the sensitive peak as his hands ventured down further. The rest of her clothing faded away with just the touch of his fingertips, leaving her completely bare to him.

There was something about her being naked while he was still fully clothed that made him feel powerful. Trusted, but still in control. Like she believed with her whole heart that he would take care of her. And he would damn well prove her right. Every single time.

Part of him still didn’t believe that she was his. That she wanted him, chose him, made the decision to be with him every single day. He didn’t want her to regret that choice for even a single heartbeat.

Gale kissed his way down her body, over her breasts and taut abdomen down to the soft mound between her legs. He pushed her thighs apart and she lifted her hips, baring her slick, soaking pussy to him. The scent of her arousal was strong; a feminine musk that went straight to his cock. Impatient for a taste, he dragged his tongue through her folds with a rapacious moan.

“Fuck, Gale,” she gasped, arching almost off the couch as she threaded her fingers through his hair.

Using his forearm, he pinned her hips down as he covered her with his mouth. His tongue circled her clit, teasing her with practiced licks as her fingers tightened in his hair. When Gale closed his lips around the stiff bud and sucked, she cried out as she writhed beneath him.

Sliding his hand up her thigh, he sought her center and found her completely soaked. Her back arched when he plunged two fingers deep into her core. With his mouth still on her clit, he curled his fingers inside her, massaging her walls as they tightened around the intrusion.

Her thighs began to tremble, her legs pressing into his back as if she was trying to push him closer. Sharp, panting breaths puff from her lips as the trembling turned to full on shaking.

“Gale, I’m going to—” Her whole body went taut as an orgasm tore through her. Her walls clenched around his fingers as he continued to lap and suck at her clit, wanting to draw her pleasure out as long as he could.

As her breathing evened out, Gale withdrew his fingers and began kissing her inner thighs, nibbling the tender flesh, once just hard enough to mark her again.

He wasn’t sure what it was about Sarana that made him want to claim her in such a way. To mark up her skin so anyone could see that she was taken. Even if no one but him would see the insides of her legs, he still wanted to leave a little love bite. Just for the two of them.

His cock was so hard it was almost painful as he sat up, her legs still thrown over his shoulders and giving him the most gorgeous view. The way her golden skin turned slightly pink in the aftermath of her orgasm, the hard, pointed peaks of her breasts, her slick and swollen pussy.

Fuck. When he brought her to the couch, he mostly only had her pleasure on his mind. Not his own. But seeing her like that beneath him, her eyes dark and glassy with lust as she gazed back at him…

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he said and pressed his lips to one of the adorable black spots that dotted her calf. “You make me want to do all manner of things to you, none of which are very gentlemanly.”

A sultry smile spread across Sarana’s lips. “You can do anything you want with me, Sir.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. When she called him ‘Sir’ it was like another part of his mind took over. A part of his mind that was very much not a gentleman at all.

Sarana’s gaze followed the movement of his hands as he unbuckled his belt and pulled at the ties of his trousers. Her breath hitched when he freed his aching cock, her eyes locked on his engorged length as a bead of precome leaked from the tip. When her tongue darted out past her lips, Gale could barely stifle a groan. As much as he loved seeing her lips wrapped around his cock, he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

Not only that, he was desperate to fill her up. He wanted to claim her inside and out. Oh, he might feel a little embarrassed later, but at that moment the idea of Sarana attending that party absolutely filled with his come drove him wild.

He notched the head of his cock at her entrance, mesmerized by where their bodies connected. “Do you want to see what I see, Sarana?” he asked and pushed himself just barely inside of her. “Do you want to see how gorgeous you look right now?”

Sarana nodded frantically. “Yes, Sir.”

“Then close your eyes,” he said and projected his vision directly into her mind. It was a simple spell, just a minor variation of a basic illusion cantrip, but he had certainly never used it like that before.

Her pussy clamped around the head of his cock as her face flushed red, her eyes clamped shut but seeing through his eyes. Watching as he did as he sank into her. Inch by devastating inch.

Sarana’s mouth fell open as she stretched around him. “Look at you,” he said as he watched his cock disappear into her deliciously tight core. “Look at how well you take me.”

An erotic, high pitched whine passed her lips as she bucked her hips with the limited movement she had, bouncing on his thick length. “Please,” she whimpered, her body practically vibrating with need.

“Don’t open your eyes until I tell you too.” He wanted her to see what he saw. To see how badly she wanted him, how beautiful she was, how she came apart on his cock. He wanted her to see how he could absolutely fill her to the brim with his come.

Gale withdrew himself almost completely before he slammed into her again. “Harder, Sir,” she pleaded even as her fingertips dug into the couch cushions.

And who was he to refuse her?

The couch scraped against the floor with the force of his next thrust. “Oh, gods yes!” Sarana squirmed beneath him, her hips rocking to meet every brutal movement. Obediently, she kept her eyes shut, so Gale knew that she could see how sweetly she took his cock, the sinful view of her pussy wrapped around him as she took him to the hilt. He knew she could see the way her breasts bounced as he pounded into her and the way her face contorted with pleasure.

Gods, he really wasn’t going to last much longer.

Leaning forward slightly, he practically folded her in half as he rocked into her, putting pressure on her clit with his every movement. With the new angle, his every thrust was met with sweet yelps that she tried to stifle with her fist.

At some point, he lost his concentration on the illusion spell. The moment claimed him completely. It was just him and her, the feel of her body joined with his, her skin against his.

Her walls fluttered around him, like she was trying to hold him tighter and pull him deeper. Then with a choked cry, her body seized up, her legs trembling on his shoulders as another orgasm tore through her.

That look of complete ecstasy was all it took. Gale felt his balls begin to tighten, threatening release. He gripped her legs hard as he impaled her on his cock, the sounds of their bodies slapping together filling the room.

Fire licked up his spine as his thrusts lost any sense of rhythm, doing what felt right without any thought behind it. A deep groan rumbled in his chest as he buried himself to the hilt, stilling as he unloaded deep inside of her. The intensity of his release sent sparks across his skin, his whole body trembling in the aftermath.

Sarana’s hands cupped his face and pulled his mouth to hers in a slow, luxurious kiss until both of their bodies relaxed. Her legs fell from his shoulders and wrapped themselves around him, still holding him inside of her. Her walls continued to flutter around his softening length as if trying to squeeze out every last drop.

Gale rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I got you a present,” he murmured and swiped his thumb across the curve of her cheekbone. He could feel her smile under the movement. “I was going to wait until after the party to give it to you, but….”

He pulled out, feeling some primitive satisfaction as he watched his come leak out of her. Without really thinking, he scooped it in his fingers and pushed it back inside.

Sarana squeezed around his fingers with a small laugh. “If your present is another orgasm, I won’t want to go to the party at all.”

With a chuckle, Gale pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned off his fingers. “Well, then the next one will have to wait until after the party, won’t it?” he joked and reached into his other pocket and found the gift he had crafted for her.

It was something he knew she wanted, they had talked about it on multiple occasions but it always seemed like an impossibility. But now? Gods, now he was a little nervous to present it to her. What if the only reasons she seemed enthusiastic about the idea was because it was something that seemed so far out of reach?

His throat felt dry as he held out a dainty, golden chain necklace with tiny pink diamonds set between every couple of links. It was a piece of jewelry that he knew Sarana would love, but it was the enchantment imbued within that was the true gift.

For both of them.

“I spoke with a Githzerai researcher outside of Candlekeep,” he began as Sarana took the delicate chain from his hand, smiling at the gleaming gold and sparkling jewels. “I can tell you all the details later, but if you wear this…” Gale swallowed and traced his hands down her sides. “We might be able to conceive.”

Bright, ocean blue eyes blinked up at him as Sarana took in his words. She held the necklace to her chest. “You mean….”

Gale inclined his head, his heart attempting to beat straight out of his chest. “We could have a baby.”

“I thought Lae’zel said it was an asexual process.”

“With all due respect for Lae’zel, she has been wrong about many things regarding her own people. This—” Gale tapped the necklace “—will allow us to at least try.”

Sarana blinked again as moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes, a wobbly smile on her lips. “We can have little Gales,” she said and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

“We can have little Gales,” he confirmed as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her tight as she snuggled into the crook of his neck.

Pressure built behind his eyes, tears threatening to fall over his lashes even as a smile pulled at his lips. Provided that there were no issues on his end, Sarana could make it so she could conceive as soon as she put on the necklace. And Gale was more than happy to help out with the rest.

“Help me put it on?” she asked.

“Let’s get dressed first,” he replied and returned Sarana’s clothes to her with a simple hand gesture and a thought. He buttoned up his trousers and righted his clothes before he took the necklace from her hands. Back turned toward him, Sarana swept her hair over her shoulder, giving him access to the back of her neck.

He had barely finished clasping the necklace before she was throwing her arms around him again. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Sarana pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “I want seven.”

Gale straightened. “Seven what? Necklaces? Or — if you want seven little Gales I know a great variety of duplication spells that —”

A clatter of utensils and cutlery sounded from the kitchen, and they both whipped their heads toward the source of the sound. His mind immediately went to Tara as his heart dropped to his stomach. Tara had been on her way up to the tower when he last saw her, if she had come back to the kitchen… gods he would never have been able to look the tressym in the eye again.

Not only that, Tara could be a horrible gossip and he did not want his mother to know about his and Sarana’s baby-making plans quite yet.

Us stood on the counter, a wooden spoon wrapped in one of its tendrils, ladles and spatulas strewn at its feet. “We stirred!”

Thank the gods. As creepy as Us was, it did not care in the slightest what he and Sarana did in its presence.

Sarana gave Gale a quick peck on the cheek before hopping off the couch. “Come on.” She held out her hand, her new necklace glinting in the firelight. “We’ve got little wizard cookies to decorate.”

And little wizards to make, he thought to himself as he took her hand and followed her into the kitchen.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x tav #gale x female tav #gale fanfic #gale smut #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3

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avocado-writing · 6 months

Note

Hiiii, love your fics 💙 Can we get one where aziraphale has a huuuuge praise kink and gets flustered easily by reader? Thank youuuu

notes: paired y’all up bc you went well together rating: E

pairing: aziraphale x reader

“Gosh, aren’t you gorgeous?”

Aziraphale shifts in pleasure underneath you but you hold down his hips with surprising strength. He won’t wiggle away from you, oh no, not when he’s making such delicious noises.

“Unnfff, I— oh gosh, I’m… I don’t know…”

“Such a lovely cock, angel. I could keep it down my throat all day.”

And, just to prove it, you let your mouth relax into an “o” and swallow him down again. Aziraphale’s a perfect length and just thick enough to stretch your jaw a little. You press up to the nest of fair curls at his base and you think he might explode. He wants to bury his hands in your hair but you feel like he doesn’t know how to ask, so instead he grips the arms of his comfortable chair with such force you think he might shred the upholstery with his well-groomed nails.

Ahh, your angel. You’ve been seeing him romantically for a little while now and have begun to work out what really gets him going. You’ve seen how he reacts when you tell him how handsome he is, what a good job he does at touching you. The slack of his mouth and glassy, obedient look in his eyes. You’re sure he’d do anything just so you’d praise him… and when you found out he’d never had the experience of someone using their mouth on him? Well. It seemed like the perfect equation.

“Oh my… please…”

“Please what, darling?” you ask, popping off his length and letting your hand take over. His cock is a ruddy red and straining in your fingers, spurts of his precome and your spit dripping down over your knuckles to soak his sac. “Use your pretty mouth, Aziraphale. Tell me what you need.”

“Don’t stop,” is all he’s able to get out, his brows knitted together in a desperation you’ve never seen on him before.

“Only if you tell me what a good boy you are. You’re so good, Aziraphale, sitting there so nicely while I take you in my mouth. I just want to hear that you know it.”

“I’m…” his eyes roll back as your tongue darts out and plays with the slit of his cockhead, the sweet salt of him flooding your tastebuds. You’ll never get tired of that, ever.

“Come on. I know you can do it, my beautiful angel.”

“I’m good. I’m good…”

“Are you my good boy?”

“Yes! Yes, gosh, I’m your good boy…!”

He can barely keep himself still now, he’s so desperate for your touch, your attention, your praise, your love. You’ll give it all to him gladly. You look up into his face and consider how much like a piece of art he is: flushed rosy cheeks, puffy tooth-worried lips as he tries to hold pleas back, eyes watering with overstimulation. You decide to let him find his release. It isn’t fair to torture him so.

You slide up to your knees from where you’d been lounging languidly on the carpet and set to work, pressing him into your mouth and working up and down with a vengeance. Your tongue flattens and you run the plain of it along his underside. You hear his breaths hitch, a quiet string of curses leave his lips, and he comes with such force that you choke a little.

As he rides out his shockwaves you swallow his spend down, making a show of retreating and licking your lips before climbing into his lap and kissing him. His mouth is slow and lazy in responding. That’s fair enough, you were probably a bit blissed out the first time you received oral.

“Are you alright, love?” he nods and presses his forehead to yours. “How was it?”

His grin is cheshire-cat wide, engulfing the whole of his face.

“Heavenly.”

taglist: @angiestopit@dazed-soul @@foolishprincipalitee@smile-eywa@staygoldsquatchling02@underratedboogeyman@cool-ontherun-world@emilynissangtr@cool-iguana@this--is--music @ilyatan @lxsm2@clarina04@wtfhasmy-lifecometo@mrgatotortuga@wereallbrokenangels @night-affiliate @silcosmoke@kimqueenofhell@chewbrry @bajablast23 @h3k3t@am-i-obsessed---maybe@bakerstreethound@darktealrat @chaospossum

#aziraphale x reader #michael sheen x reader #good omens x reader #Request

185 notes · View notes

naomihatake · 6 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 7)

7. What do you wish for?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7 ; Chapter 8

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence, tiny bit comfort at the end

Word count: 8,4 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I'm glad I could finish the chapter so early and there are some scenes in here that I really loved writing. Also, I want you to pay close attention to the fight Witch has with the fishman. The anime watchers and manga readers that got far enough with One Piece will probably get it faster ;)

I'd be happy to hear your opinions on this chapter. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

"What is your dream?"

While she would've rather expected that question to come from Luffy, the tipsy Zoro by her side, leaned against the mast, seemed to be rather intrigued by her reasons to remain with Luffy.

When she turned her head towards him, one of her suppositions was proved to be right: the stars above shone beautifully, but nothing could compare to the swordsman's brown eyes. In the dark, his dark chocolate irises were swallowed by pupils dark as the depths of the oceans. No. Dark and beautiful as the night sky she teared her gaze away from.

Her silence could've been interpreted in many ways and Zoro might become suspicious, but his already flushed state seemed to swallow everything in. He only looked back at her.

The witch couldn't exactly spot the specific aura of his gaze. He wasn't only flushed because of the alcohol, no. He seemed… soft, even. His shoulders were relaxed and the grip on the empty bottle loosened up.

His question was simply something she didn't expect, as he was always down to earth, similarly to Nami. However, there was a tiny difference — he proudly admitted he wanted to become the strongest swordsman in the world.

"I—," the word left her lips like a mere whisper.

Her determination faltered under the weight of the alcohol. Until that moment, after sharing some ugly parts of her past, his remarks made her laugh and chuckle happily.

"I want to be free."

One simple wish that could have so many connotations.

"I don't see any rope around your wrists."

His voice was like a low rumble coming from the depths of his chest, such a pleasant and soothing sound.

Their eye contact didn't break. Their gazes were locked together and she couldn't bring herself to be mad about it, especially when she was drunk enough to let vulnerable sides of her poor soul see the light of the stars.

Faint, shy, but it was there.

"I want to be free from myself and the expectations everyone has of me," she clarified. "Free from the rules of the world, written or unwritten. Free from the Marines that are now on my tail."

"Why did you become a pirate if you wanted to be free from the Navy?"

"The sea always looked like a place where I could be free," she admitted with a weak voice. The same tiny voice her younger self used to have when dreaming of a future.

Zoro knitted his eyebrows together and blinked, staring at the small beauty mark on her face he just noticed. He seemed deep in thought or rather trying to figure out the meaning of her words.

He was rarely so concentrated outside of critical situations like fights.

"Are you free now, then?"

With a gulp, she shook her head.

"No."

One word. One heavy weight on her soul.

"How do you wanna be free?" came another question from the swordsman.

"I have no clue."

The cage around her was a metaphor. She always felt like iron bars squeezed her tighter and tighter, until she broke down, a situation that occurred only a few times a year and was always hidden from prying eyes.

Realistically, there was no free place in that world. The Marine wasn't by any means as righteous as they wanted to look like and they were certainly not saviors. Of course, there were plenty of pirates that did nothing else but harm everyone and everything they laid eyes on. Some of them had ugly souls, dark and dirtied by greed.

However, there were plenty of people that were so-called pirates and yet never harmed unless they had to protect someone. Like Luffy or Usopp. They never took anyone's life.

Like her father.

She wasn't one of those pirates. The witch has killed people, even if never solely for blood thirst. Or, at least, not yet. She deserved to die, to never see the light of a new day.

A personal justice system — that's what she's always had, that's what she grew to learn about from the crew she left barely a year ago.

Deep down, she knew she would never be free. There was no liberty for a monster.

When she looked at Zoro, she also wanted him to taste freedom on his tongue. Maybe he already knew what that felt like.

If she couldn't find her own freedom, she could settle for protecting her friends' freedom. That would be more than enough, right?

"Aren't you at fault for your own lack of freedom?" Zoro pulled her out of her thoughts.

His question might've sounded as insensitive and accusing, but she was aware the swordsman didn't mean it that way. He always had his own way with words and, unfortunately, he got misinterpreted most of the time.

He was simply stating a probable truth.

Then I suppose I should get rid of my—

No. There was no time to think of such things, even if she was drunk and vulnerable. Admitting that to his face would be shameful of her.

Maybe she wasn't that ready to share secrets yet, was she?

"I most probably am," the witch whispered as she averted her eyes back to the sky splattered with stars. "At the end of the day, I'm the only one taking into account what others say and how they affect me."

She didn't know exactly how to pursue freedom, but she was certain of something else: if that beautiful future stood in front of her, Zoro was probably one of the ways to find out.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch wasn't able to find freedom if she died at that moment, with the blue hand of a fishman gripping at her throat. There was a lingering ache at the crown of her head from when he pushed her against the wall.

Her eyes squeezed shut while life seemed to slip from her hold, the same way her fingers lost their force while clutching onto the fishman's forearm. She had to find a way to get out of there, to breathe, because her lungs were already begging for some oxygen. Her vision was getting blurry and the pain in her entire throat spread like fire through her body.

Maybe it was because of her hyper-aware state, but she could swear the wound on her bicep was bloody again considering the sharp pain shooting through her arm.

No. There was no time to die and beg for forgiveness — and whose forgiveness could she ask for if she stays alive? Exactly. No one's.

The witch didn't know if she breathed in air or it just felt awfully familiar to that sensation, but her lungs suddenly swallowed something fresh and powerful. It ate the pain hungrily, destroying every doubt in her mind the more she thought of her promises, of the corpse of a father who still whispered in her dreams "go find your freedom".

The grip on the fishman's arm grew tighter, stronger, until her nails dug into the scales and penetrated them. Her fingers ached, the skin around her nails scratched harshly by the sharp broken scales. Fresh blood surfaced.

Her eyes opened up slowly, burning with each one of her promises, this time including her own — If I can't find freedom, I'll make it.

Every nerve in her body burnt and she tasted drugs on the tip of her tongue, an addiction threatening to clutch onto her and take control.

Power.

The witch has never been one to love power, to ache for it and yet, there she was, with a devil-like grin growing on her face.

Power.

It ate her alive and she loved that sensation. The steadiness of her heartbeats, the cage of ribs that broke to make place for that overwhelming feeling.

Power will never take control of me.

Her eyes bore holes through the fishman's entire being. There was no need for her revolver when two shining irises had the same effect.

Her vision and mind has never been clearer.

The fishman was struck. A weight settled on his shoulders, pulling him down, doubts flickering in his head.

Claws sank into his eyes, into his face and throat, clutching at his heart, threatening to pull it out of his chest.

The fishman stumbled and dropped her.

His strong grip on her throat left blooming red marks. They were ugly and her neck felt tender, but her nerves didn't register the pain properly because of the adrenaline running through her veins.

The witch immediately took the opportunity, despite the lack of air in her lungs. She crouched down to take her gun, but before she could shoot again, a loud sound got her attention.

The door of the restaurant broke at the floor underneath her when Luffy got thrown right into it by Arlong.

On the side of the stairs where Usopp crawled down was Sanji struggling to get back up after he cracked his back at the harsh contact with a table.

People were hiding under chairs and bars from the fishmen's wrath.

Her anger was fueled by each single detail. One of her shoulders felt light, while the other was heavy. The monster lurking inside her had one eye open — the same one that pushed her to cuss out Mihawk back when Zoro got a cut through his chest. The same monster she wouldn't trade anything for, because wrath has always been her forte.

The small flame of revenge started burning in the pits of her stomach. Steadily. Still vague, easy to control.

She ran down the stairs and passed by Usopp, who was at that moment helping Sanji get on his feet. The witch got out of Baratie, suddenly stopping in her tracks when she saw Arlong standing a few meters in front of her.

That fucker—

Luffy shouted something along the lines of Gum Gum and she knew that was his fight to deal with.

However, it was a fight she didn't know if he would win at that time, considering the way Arlong only turned his head to the side when he got punched in the face by Luffy's fists. The fishman spat blood on the wooden floor while he stepped closer and closer to the Straw Hat.

In a fraction, the punch Luffy received sent him flying in the sails of a boat and he fell down with a thud, grunting. It was stupid of him to provoke Arlong further, but Luffy has never been to give up or let his enemies feel the satisfaction of a victory without a proper fight.

The witch wondered if her captain didn't break a rib or two after being punched and thrown around for so long. He still had the energy to throw his fists into Arlong's face with all he's got, using his rubber arms to attack from meters away.

His Devil Fruit powers were definitely the only reason why he was alive.

But not for much longer.

Arlong muttered something with a growl and once he sank his hand in the water, the witch knew it wasn't going to end well.

The fishman didn't just splash Luffy; no, he soaked the Straw Hat to the bone and the hit with both sea water and brute force got Luffy to the ground. It was his biggest weakness.

The witch's eyes widened when she saw Arlong grabbing at Luffy's shirt and lifting him in the air, opening his mouth to reveal razor-sharp teeth.

Her feet carried her for only a second and she almost shouted out for Luffy out of despair — she would rather be stabbed in the stomach countless times than feel helpless again. Out of instinct, the hand holding the gun raised, aiming at—

"Arlong, wait!"

Nami.

The witch snapped her head towards her friend.

The orange-haired woman stomped her feet and came, leaving the Going Merry behind her. The tank-top she wore exposed a strange old tattoo on her left shoulder. She was clutching tightly onto a thin and long cylinder.

"I have it," she addressed Arlong. "I have the map."

The map.

"I got it for you, just like I said I would."

The witch blinked away the confusion that almost made her hazy and stepped in front of Nami, stopping her from moving forward.

"Nami," the witch knitted her eyebrows together. "What's going on?"

Nami's eyes held no clear emotion besides a flicker of anger.

"Exactly what you knew all along."

It was one of those times when the witch wished her tarot was wrong.

She shook her head, one of her hands gripping at Nami's wrist.

"Nami," the witch squeezed her friend's hand tighter, scared it would slip from between her fingers.

"Let go."

Nami snatched her arm out of the witch's hold and her jaw ticked. She wasn't only annoyed, there had to be more in her eyes.

"You cannot possibly tell me you want to do this," the witch insisted, stepping even closer, until she was one breath away from the navigator.

Their intense gazes clashed together and none of them let the walls fall.

"But here I am, ain't I?" Nami cocked an eyebrow.

When the orange-haired passed by, her shoulder collided harshly with the witch's who was still stuck in place.

No fucking way.

The witch needed time to think, she had to search for some clarification with her tarot cards. She needed more time to read the energy, to figure out the situation, to understand what, where, why and when. Nothing made sense and time passed by so fast she couldn't even process it all.

Luffy was so disoriented he didn't even pour enough force in his hands to get rid of Arlong's grip on the collar of his shirt.

"Nami?" he firmly spoke. "What are you doing?"

"I tried to tell you, Luffy," Nami continued walking towards him. "I was never on Your crew. I only joined up with you so I could steal the map."

"I don't believe that," Luffy denied.

"That's because you only believe what you want to believe. Doesn't make it true."

Nami, for fuck's sake, we both know you're lying—

The witch opened her mouth, ready to argue, to yell from the top of her lungs, but with one glance thrown to Arlong, she stopped. Saying the wrong thing might get Nami in great danger and she might lose credibility in front of him.

"Sister Nami's a loyal member of the Arlong Pirates," Arlong started speaking, pointing with his chin towards the one in question. "She has been for years."

The witch didn't know why she still protected Nami, but she was certainly not going to give up on her friend at that time.

Nami shoved the map in Arlong's nose to get his attention to her — or maybe the witch has gotten to another level of delusion.

"Why waste your time killing a Devil Fruit eater?" Nami reminded the fishman as if it wasn't a death sentence. "Let the sea do it for you."

"Nami, this is too far, cut the crap—" the witch revolted immediately.

Before she could make any step towards Luffy, she was grabbed by the back of her neck and launched into the wall of Baratie with sheer force — it was one of Arlong's asshole crewmates. She groaned in pain and squeezed her eyes. The shoulder she fell on sent sharp spikes through the entire left side of her body.

She cussed out, struggling to get back to her feet when Arlong let Luffy drown in the sea. The witch let out a shout of the Straw Hat's name and one of her knees betrayed her, resulting in another unceremonious fall to the ground.

Lucky for her, an arm curled around her front to help her up, a silver ring resting on the finger of the man.

"Luffy fell in the water, go now!" she didn't even wait to be properly raised to her feet to urge Sanji to jump.

Her aching body and the lack of strength wouldn't help her get Luffy out of the sea. She didn't even clearly notice when the cook left her side and jumped into the sea, too caught up in the agitation inside of her. Events passed by her faster than light. All she saw was a discarded shirt.

She wasn't sure because of what powers she managed to walk on the deck, at the edge where the other two should appear from under the water. Her head turned when she recognized Usopp from her peripherals.

"Luffy?" he asked, panic building up as his hands shook.

The witch would have responded if not for the answer to appear right under their noses. Sanji held Luffy tightly by the collar and pushed him on the dock with Usopp's help who dragged him.

The witch extended her hand to bring Sanji on the dock with them and since then, things turned blurry despite her open eyes.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Now the only woman in the crew, the witch sat on the floor in the room that used to be Nami's, her back leaning back against the wooden wall. With eyes devoid of life, she stared up at the ceiling while pulling her knees closer to her chest, once again trying to hide herself from everyone. From everything.

On Nami's bed there was still an inert swordsman and he didn't even flinch when she tentatively said his name after entering the room.

"Fucking dammit," she squeezed her eyes shut.

Nami left. Zoro was unconscious. Luffy almost drowned if not for Sanji. Usopp was bluffing about how "everything has to be alright".

She didn't know if he was trying to convince himself or her.

Because everything was wrong. It felt wrong.

The witch took in a deep breath, but only half of the oxygen she inhaled got to her lungs and brain because of her constricted throat. Tears were sitting on her waterline for the fourth time that day.

Too much happened since the crack of dawn and it wasn't even sunset.

Exhaustion made her look years older than she was. Her head fell forward, forehead hitting her knees before the light sneaking through the windows could fall on her face.

Tears filled with anguish ran down her cheeks and it was the first time she allowed herself to let at least an ounce of the weight on top of her body dissipate. The droplets of pain melted down her cheeks and sank into the material of her shirt.

The witch sneaked her arms around the back of her thighs and squeezed herself tighter in a ball, lips trembling. Her breathing was ragged not only because of the lump in her throat, but also because of the firm grip that fishman had on her neck. The skin was sensitive to the touch and it hurt to swallow.

Every event of that day got added one on top of another. Her fight with Zoro, the fact that he was unconscious after that dwell, Nami leaving just like the witch expected to.

Betrayal. Maybe I was a fool for trusting her.

Or am I?

Teeth sank so deeply into her lower lip it drew blood and she tasted copper on the tip of her tongue.

Pain. That was right.

The only right thing happening that day was the physical pain. Palpable, real, bringing her back to earth.

Except that time it failed, because the tears didn't stop. She squeezed her eyes shut as sharp pain traveled through her body, from her chest into her limbs, puncturing each nerve, shaking her to the core.

Her soul screamed, caged by sorrow, an ugly animal that sank its fangs into her flesh and ripped from the inside. Blood was pouring from her heart, soaking organs and bones, melting into the skin like acid. It burnt so fastly, yet it never seemed to end. With a throbbing head, she couldn't hold the pain back anymore.

However, no sound ever left her lips parted in a silent scream. No whimper, no sob, no cry for help. The room was filled with silence as a heartbeat drummed in her ears in an agonizing rhythm.

I shouldn't have come on this ship in the first place. Only if I had been wise enough to leave when I got the chance. Syrup Village was a perfect option, I could've gone on another ship and continued my mindless traveling. Why did I bother myself with this? Why did I suddenly decide it was a great idea to be part of another crew when this only has brought me suffering?

With each second, she willingly aimed the gun at herself and every word was like a bullet.

I should've left. I would've been happier. I should've left it all behind when I realized this won't go well. Fuck the premonitions, fuck the destiny, damned be the world.

A body stripped of clothes and skin, only burnt flesh left behind the monster's bites. Broken ribs and a shattered heart pumping a meaningless life.

As seconds passed by one after another and her tears came to an end, the gentle swinging of the ship pulled her into a half-asleep state.

She noticed when Luffy came into the room and she was aware of his position on Zoro's bed — the cracking of the wood gave him away. As the Straw Hat talked, she only heard the swordsman's name being spoken, some words here and there, but most of his monologue was muffled.

He probably thought she was asleep because of her slow and steady breathing.

Exhaustion was clawing at her muscles and brain, but something kept her aware of the surroundings for a few more minutes.

Everything turned pitch black in her perspective. A husky and deep voice made her believe she was dreaming, the tips of her mouth curling shily upwards.

Only if it would've been reality.

"Zoro!"

Her entire body flinched and she raised her head, wide eyed. If she didn't know any better, she would've said her soul jumped out of her.

"Luffy?" she whispered, confused on why he yelled the swordsman's name—

"You're not dead!" Luffy shouted again, loud enough for everyone in Baratie to hear.

He's alive? the witch thought to herself. I really heard his voice.

Luffy crawled on top of Zoro and squeezed the life out of him. Literally.

"Now I wish I was," she heard Zoro mumble between grunts.

He was alive.

The witch's lungs filled with fresh air for the first time that day. Relief washed over her and her body relaxed, shoulders deflating as some of the weight sitting on them fell into the sea below.

While leaning her body against the wall, she managed to get up just to get a better view of the swordsman who was squinting his eyes at the ceiling. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, head falling forward.

At least one thing went right, didn't it?

After Luffy got up from above Zoro, the swordsman managed to take some deep gulps of air, chest raising up and falling rhythmically.

"I had the strangest dream that Nami left," he said with a frown on his face as he closed his eyes.

"She did," the witch responded faintly.

There wasn't enough courage in her to look at him as she said that, instead choosing to glance at the window.

Zoro looked again at the ceiling and realized her voice was too faint for all of that to be a mere joke, a prank thrown at him for staying unconscious for… for how long?

"It's my fault," Luffy said with his chin lowered.

From the corner of his eye, Zoro saw the witch place a hand on their captain's shoulder.

"We'll find a way."

There was a promise etched onto her fragile smile. As if a simple brush of air or one wrong world could make her crumble.

But she didn't. Instead, she threw a knowing look to Zoro and silently told him to talk with Luffy. She knew the Straw Hat needed his first mate's support at that moment.

What confused Zoro the most was watching the witch get out of the room without too much of a word. Her hair bounced as she stepped further away from him and their friends. Even as his ribs and body hurt at every inhale, he wanted to understand the real reason for her leaving.

Last time they talked, she expressed worry. What happened in the meantime? What the fuck went wrong?

There was a fat chance she was still mad at him for whatever reason. Sure, she was calm, collected, but he could swear he's seen fire burning in her eyes more than just once and a grin splayed on her face at the thrill and adrenaline of a fight. She snapped at him when they fought and he had to admit it would've been sadder if she treated him with silence.

However, he didn't know if that was silence or something more.

Weird, he concluded.

His attention went back to Luffy. The swordsman couldn't manage watching the ever happy-go-lucky captain speak like a ghost.

"You didn't do anything wrong." He seriously hoped he could find the right words to bring Luffy back to reality.

There's no way that crew would fall apart without a proper fight. What has been was just the beginning.

"You acted like a captain."

"But the crew is falling apart," Luffy pulled his lips in a tight line.

"No, it's not," the green-haired firmly affirmed.

Maybe a lot more than Zoro thought has happened, but that was definitely not the end.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Before the sun could set and hide in the sea, they gathered some supplies for their new journey. They found out from the clown head — who they found out told Arlong where to find the Straw Hats — that Nami was most probably heading to Conomi Islands, specifically Cocoyashi Village. Sanji joined their crew, which made Luffy jump in excitement for the second time that day.

Luffy's folded arms were resting over the railing of Going Merry while he stared down at the water splashing against the ship.

"Does it always take so long?" Luffy spoke so softly.

Sanji chuckled with the fishing rod in his hand as he waited for a fish to catch the bait.

"We've only been here for two minutes, be patient," the cook reminded him. "Some days, they bite as soon as you drop the line and some days, it takes hours."

Then, he threw a knowing glance towards Luffy with an arch of his eyebrow.

"But we're not talking about fishing, are we?"

"I highly doubt it," the witch mumbled as she curled her fingers around her tarot deck.

She didn't dare to shuffle through the cards again, a side of her afraid of what was waiting for them. It felt uneasy everytime she got the impulse of taking the cards out and finding out which one of them holds the truth.

The witch was leaning with her back against the railing, not so far away from the Straw Hat, pressing her fingertips into the old box made of cardboard that fit perfectly in her hands.

Luffy smiled towards Sanji before he stared into the horizon with hope.

"I just want to know if Nami's okay."

"A beautiful, talented woman does not choose to ally herself with a pirate like Arlong," Sanji said firmly, convinced of his beliefs. "Nami clearly needs to be rescued."

The witch breathed in deeply and widened her eyes, trying to find the right words to tell them what she knew. A pair of heavy steps caught her attention and she immediately recognized the chiming filling the air.

Zoro. His hand was resting on his Wado Ichimoji — his only sword now.

"Her tattoo says different," he said.

The way he looked at the witch was bringing back to life some shattered pieces of her soul. He might look serene when sleeping, but he was better that way — wide awake and an asshole.

Also, he noticed something she couldn't pinpoint. There must've been a scar on her face, most probably. At first, he only stared at her face, just to lower his gaze. Oh. She didn't sleep for two days and got in a fight with a fishman, which left some nasty bruises on her bare neck.

"Well," Sanji argued, "tattoos don't tell the whole story. And like any woman, she's a mystery to be unraveled."

"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" the witch arched her eyebrow at the cook after she turned her head towards him.

Right at that moment, Zoro stepped between her and Luffy, restricting her view. All she could see was his chest, bandaged and with a red patch in the center.

"You should change your bandages," she looked up at him.

However, the witch was hesitant when she did so. As if the man in front of her could vanish in thin air.

Zoro turned to Sanji and decided to completely ignore her comment.

"Nami made her choice."

The cook immediately frowned, creases appearing on his forehead. His scowl was deeper than Zoro's.

"You don't know why," Sanji retorted.

As if getting snapped by Usopp, Zoro scoffed:

"The only thing I want to hear from you are dinner specials. You don't know Nami."

"Sounds like you don't know her either, Mosshead," Sanji spat with a taunting smile on his lips.

"Oh God, stop, you two," the witch sighed heavily, annoyed.

Just to get the swordsman's attention to her, she poked his back with the tip of her finger, digging deep enough to receive a light flinch. It seemed like she took him by surprise. She bent her back more as she continued resting her elbows on the railing to glance at Luffy over Zoro's shoulder.

"I'm sure Nami has her reasons," their captain nodded.

"I know Nami's reason."

All of their heads turned to the witch.

Usopp was just walking up the stairs of the forecastle when his eyes sparkled curiously.

"What are you guys talking about?"

"Nami," Zoro said quickly. "Why didn't you say anything until now?" that time, his sharp words were directed to the witch.

The witch shot him a glare, displeased by his reaction. However, she would've acted the same if someone was to hide something so important.

"It would've felt unfair to tell you before talking with her," the witch clarified.

"You talked with her about it?" Usopp suddenly intervened, surprised by the news.

The witch gripped at the tarot deck in between her hands tighter and clicked her tongue, trying to find the best words to explain.

"I did. Somehow," uncertainty latched onto her voice.

None of them rushed her anymore so she took her time.

"Listen, this isn't as easy as it seems to be. Yes, Sanji, she didn't willingly get into Arlong's crew."

A snarky remark sat on the cook's tongue and he wanted to throw it Zoro's way.

"But," the witch continued in order to stop an eventual argument, "she's fully aware of her actions. She was forced by the circumstances to do what she's doing, but it doesn't mean she likes acting like Arlong's crewmate. Nami certainly hates him from the bottom of her heart. He did something. Something that forced her to act like she's a friend just to protect something or someone. Or both. She's not only protecting herself, she's protecting what's most dear to her heart."

It wasn't the witch that spoke, but the gut feeling she had. Her thoughts didn't seem so clear in months, since her last successful tarot reading. Now, as the significance of each card sank into her brain, she knew what everything meant.

It wasn't her that spoke, but her intuition.

"She's keeping us away because she's scared we'd get hurt, not only because we would get in her way. Nami cares about us and that's exactly why she's pushing us away."

"Who does that?" Zoro wondered out loud.

Maybe he should've kept that to himself.

"You do that," the witch's head snapped towards him. "I do it. And Nami does. She said she tricked us — which was true. At the same time, she's tricking Arlong. He isn't her crewmate, he's an asshole that stole something from her—"

The witch got so carried away she didn't even realize what she just said. She suddenly furrowed her eyebrows into the void and received confused looks from her friends.

"He stole something. Her freedom."

Those words were said as she actively figured the details out, staring into the void.

"Witch?" Usopp nudged her.

"Yes?" she turned towards him.

"Did she tell you all these things?"

There was a light chuckle that left her lips at that question.

"The cards did. Her reactions just gave her away and answered my doubts."

The witch knew what games she was playing. She's been doing these things for years and not only — she trusted her gut feeling above everything else.

She received an especially confused look from the cook, who had no clue why she was called a witch. He probably supposed it was because she was beautiful or maybe secretive.

He should've taken that nickname literally.

"What do we do then?" Zoro turned his head towards their captain.

Luffy listened intently to everything the witch had to say and he made up his mind since long ago:

"I want to hear her decision for myself."

"That's for the best," the witch nodded.

There was more she would've liked to say, but speaking from the gut was both easier than usual and harder when tired. Considering the last time she got some proper sleep was before they got attacked by the Marines, she could say it's been long enough for her mind to get clouded.

Stuck in her thoughts as she was, the grip on her tarot deck loosened up and the object fell from her hold on the wooden floor. The witch's exhausted brain registered that too many seconds later.

A deep frown appeared between her eyebrows, blinking in an attempt to clear her vision while she bent down to take the deck in her hand.

Obviously, she failed.

When her back was straight again, her vision went pitch black and a heavy throbbing settled in her temples. The ship swayed worse than a second ago. She groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closed.

The witch has been in that situation before. She stood still, because attempting to walk would've ended in a passionate kiss with the floor.

When the sensations dissipated little by little, tiredness was everything left behind.

"I'm gonna get some rest," she mumbled, the words a little slurred.

With her eyes now opened wide enough to see where she's heading, she walked towards the stairs and cussed them out one by one.

Falling like an idiot wasn't on her to-do list for that day.

By some miracle, she managed to walk all the way into the galley. The room she shared with Nami was hers, but it was too far away. Her feet barely carried her to the dark red sofa she let her body fall on like a sack.

She didn't care about the clothes she hasn't changed from, too caught up with everything that has happened. There was enough time for a shower later, when exhaustion wasn't seeping into her bones. The only thing she had the decency to do was to take her boots off.

She stretched her legs and put an arm under her head, resting on her side to face the room. Not the most comfortable place to sleep in, but after all of that tumult, nothing mattered anymore.

The sweet sound of jingling disturbed her again.

Oh, god dammit.

She was one breath away from cussing Zoro's ass and his earrings — despite being in ecstasy that he woke up. The witch, as if expecting his next move, bent her knees to make space for him. The swordsman plopped himself down with a grunt at the other side of the sofa and her bare feet touched his thigh.

She didn't dare mutter a word about his presence. Zoro could stay. Gosh, as she was thinkingln about it, she could only believe it was a blessing he wasn't only awake, but also throwing remarks her way.

It was so much better than telling stories of her past to an unconscious Mosshead.

Right.

The edges of her mouth curled in a smile.

"What?"

"Mosshead," she chuckled, eyes still closed.

Zoro let out a scoff and she could imagine him rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"Didn't you say you were going to rest?"

His voice was unusually low and even soft, pulling her towards the dreamland.

"I'd say this place is perfect," she mumbled.

The witch didn't bother to explain she was tired out of her mind or that her feet would most likely betray her if she dared to get up.

The silence was filled with their breathing and the sounds of the water splashing against their ship, the cracks of the wood. She remembered the times when she traveled with her father's crew and she would many times fall asleep curled next to a barrel while the vice-captain was still singing sea shanties in the middle of the night.

"Zoro," the witch whispered.

She was too weary to care about what left her mouth. It acted like alcohol — it clouded her mind and she felt shameless.

"What if I wouldn't have stepped on this ship?"

That question plagued her mind and she finally said it out loud.

"So the last ship was more to your taste?" he snickered. "It almost sank in the sea."

"You're such an ass," and while that phrase might've sounded harsh in the past, at that moment it was filled with fondness.

"Been told that before."

I really missed that voice.

"For someone with a big ass bruise on your neck, you sound more like a coward than I thought."

Maybe she deserved that serious tone thrown her way. Was he right? Only halfway through.

"No," she was stubborn enough to fight the sleep for a few more minutes. "What if I would've been happier? Y'know, less worries, no people to haunt my ass. No anxiety."

No crying over you for being almost dead.

The continuation sat on the tip of her tongue and got swallowed back with a gulp. Was there really a need for an admission? Puffy eyelids and dark circles under her eyes, chapped lips and bandages around her forearm soaked in blood. Those details were enough proof.

"Do you hate us that much?" his low voice sent shivers down her spine.

"It's not about that. Just…" she gulped and curled her fingers around the tarot deck she was still holding onto. "I want some peace."

"I say you should get some sleep."

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Standing on the deck felt right, even if the witch doesn't remember why she was there. She can't point out the weather clearly, it feels blurry. Seconds ago she was in the kitchen talking with Sanji about some unusual topic she couldn't remember.

Then why was she suddenly on the deck, face to face with a kneeling Zoro who had two swords piercing through his upper body from behind? She didn't only know it was him, she felt like it was him, as if the pieces connecting in her head were just right. However, it horrified her. Everything around him was blurry except for him.

Him, whose essence of life was pouring down his body, creating a puddle under him, sinking into the cracks of the wooden floor. The crimson liquid melted into his white t-shirt. Now that she was looking better at it, she noticed the sharp point of a sword penetrating all the way through his stomach to the front side of his body.

He was looking up at her, despite the way his chin was tilted down. Those sharp brown eyes were boring holes through her. His beautiful irises painted with the warm nuances of chocolate and coffee were scary, like no other time.

Was Luffy next to her? It feels like it was him, even if she can only distinguish a silhouette in the corner of her right eye.

Why was Zoro looking at her like that? She couldn't move, as if her feet were stuck in place. She didn't know if she was breathing or if she was alive anymore. She didn't know why she was on the deck, why those swords took his life away. It barely made any sense that he had enough energy to stare at her.

He didn't falter once. He didn't beg for help, her name didn't come out of his mouth, no groans, no nothing.

She couldn't move. As she stood in the same place, her anxiety was rising up, up, up, until she felt like panicking despite the lack of reaction. She felt like exploding, but she couldn't express those horrific feelings.

She couldn't help him. Her arms were stuck by the sides of her body, as if someone had put a spell on her. She had the will to move her legs, to get closer to him, she wanted to, but she remained glued in that spot. She couldn't feel her body.

She had to do something, but she was trapped inside an unmoving object that was her own body. Why?

Everything snapped.

The smallest hope towards an escape woke her up. Her eyes opened instantly and she raised up in a sitting position, eyes frantically searching for more clues, for answers about the horrifying images she just saw before her eyelids.

Her heart was beating so fast it made her wish she didn't have it at all, a deafening ba-dump repeating in her eardrums over and over again.

Unfortunately, she was face to face with the swordsman she dreamt of. Instantly, as if she was shot, she looked at his upper abdomen. For no more than two seconds, she saw a big black patch on his bandages.

She inhaled deeply and her heart was beating faster, suddenly unable to release that breath of air. Her eyes widened and her hands shook, chest tight.

"Hey," she heard more of a background sound.

She blinked countless times, until her tired brain figured out that it was just her imagination. It was so dark in the room and her nightmare was a shock, the reason why at some point the patch started blurring out, inviting her to blink until it turned to be one small spot. It has been there since he woke up from his slumber.

When the realization sank in, she let go of that breath and let out a pitiful whimper. Deep inside, it felt like relief, her eyes now squeezed shut.

This time, he clearly called her name after his fingers securely gripped at her shaking shoulders, avoiding her wound. Her hands were trembling, her entire being disturbed.

Zoro said her name, not the nickname she got so used to hearing on that ship. Not the usual Witch, a word that sounded so endearing coming from her crewmates; no, it was her name and it was spoken so softly she could've confused him for someone else.

She had a poor attempt at recalling those images in order to figure out the reality, but it backfired. The bloody scene stuck before her closed eyes pushed her to open them up again.

Thankfully, his dark gaze was warm, filled with unspoken worry. For a brief moment she wondered how he woke up, since he slept like the dead sometimes.

"I'm surprised I managed to wake you up," her voice trembled.

He didn't joke back at her. Instead, his thumbs started rubbing slow circles into her shoulders in order to bring her back to earth. Or, better said, back to the ship that was peacefully sailing on the sea during the night.

"I think you should correct your breathing," he pointed out.

Once she changed from autopilot breathing, it felt like her throat was tight.

"Breathe in."

Blindly, she trusted his instructions. That mere breath shook her again, feeling shivers when she allowed the oxygen to sink into her lungs, the same way his voice sank into her being, in the cracks of her soul.

It took a few minutes until that normal bodily process didn't seem like an impossible task. Her muscles were tense until Zoro squeezed her shoulders again.

She could distinguish more of his face than just the warmth she noticed not long ago. His expression seemed pained with worry and not from a wound that could kill him, even if there still were bandages wrapped around his torso. Maybe it was also fear that made him look so different from usual; or was it confusion?

"I'm sorry for destroying your sleep."

It was half a lie. She wasn't sorry about the touch keeping her afloat, about how she managed to breathe again only because of his presence, because he was clearly awake and alive. At the same time, she knew he needed to rest so his wound could heal properly.

"Be serious," he huffed in a lower voice, clearly displeased.

"I am. You should sleep."

"Just like you should, but I doubt you will."

"I'd argue about that."

She was still tired, even if her shock from earlier struck her like thunder. Her eyes could close at any moment, which she feared, because another nightmare didn't sound good even for how stress resistant she became.

Since he heard her soft whimper when she was still sleeping, he had no clue what to do, how to act. One thing was clear: it was better to wake her up, despite the possibility she might get defensive and attack.

Alright, now what the heck do I do? He's had nightmares before, he's seen horrendous things during his sleep countless times, but he didn't have any idea about what to do for her. Was he even supposed to do something? She didn't like being pampered — maybe he should act like nothing happened. However, the fear coloring her face earlier shocked him as well. The witch has always been collected, she had such a firm grip on her reactions it was annoying sometimes.

The swordsman shook his head, but didn't let go of her. Instead, he leaned against the cushions on his side, while his hands fell down to her forearms to get a comfortable position of his limbs and upper body. The wound on his chest sent daggers through him at each movement. Barely a day of consciously dealing with it and he's already got annoyed.

The witch looked down at where their bodies were connected. His long calloused fingers were securely wrapped around her arms, close to her wrists. When did her legs end up in his lap she didn't know. Her bare knee tingled with warmth — why?

"You had a weird reaction after you woke up," his whisper stirred something in her heart.

"What do you mean? I had plenty of reactions."

Are you playing the idiot with me? Zoro thought.

"You were more scared of seeing me than of the nightmare."

"Oh."

Why did the Mosshead have to be so observant? It was one of the reasons why she was attracted to him, evidently, but sometimes he exposed her too easily.

She dropped her chin and looked down at her own hands. Admitting that she feared his role as the main character of a tragedy for the second time felt embarrassing for some unknown reason. She's been in enough humiliating situations and he never ridiculed her.

Zoro was utterly stuck. Was he supposed to move away? His body felt too heavy to get off the sofa and go to his room. It wouldn't be alright leaving her alone with her crippling anxiety either, considering she was prone to overthinking.

He wanted to do something, but what?

He let out a long sigh and rested his head against the cushions, his fingers still curled around her wrists. Her pulse was fast, but as seconds passed by, it slowed down under the weight of his thumbs.

The witch became hyper aware of the situation, but it felt too good to move away. Her tired brain entirely registered his presence and her eyes closed. She breathed in the chill air of the night and, while focusing so intently on Zoro's presence, she fell into a deeper state of mind, half asleep.

He was disturbed from his own journey into the dream realm when he felt a light weight on his shoulder. Once his eyes opened, he saw the cause: she leaned in closer to him, clearly unaware.

He smelled like the sea and the familiar scent of soap clung to the unbuttoned blue t-shirt he wore. With her forehead resting against his neck, the witch could vaguely point out his pulse. The safety of his embrace lulled her into a dreamless sleep while she focused on his slow breathing and the secure grip he had on her.

Zoro filled her senses so fiercely it was impossible not to melt into him, inhaling and exhaling in sync with him.

The swordsman had different sentiments about this and they were all confusing.

What am I doing? he scolded himself.

He moved his head and angled his face so he could look at the right side of her sleeping face. With long eyelashes resting over her soft cheeks, she looked like she didn't have a worry in the world, even if he knew better. Her shoulders would rise and fall rhythmically in such a slow pace, making him wonder what exactly exhausted her so much.

Then, his gaze fell on the purple marks on her neck and his jaw clenched. If he would've been awake when Arlong appeared at Baratie, maybe none of them would be like that. Maybe he would've had enough stubbornness to get answers from Nami and maybe Luffy wouldn't have been so close to drowning. Maybe those marks on her neck wouldn't have been there in the first place.

What the fuck am I doing?

Giving up, he rested his head back against the cushions with a scowl. He didn't understand himself and it was even harder to understand the woman sleeping so peacefully, too close to him.

Zoro let out a low displeased sound and closed his eyes, deciding to rest for a while. He didn't dare move away or wake her up either.

First and foremost he was displeased about the fact that he liked the proximity.

I wonder what that fishman's face looks like. It'll surely be a pleasure to slice him in half.

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @jesssssmaybankk @nadlx33333 @yoong1c0re @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop @zoromyluv

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motelofmermaids · 2 months

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jon snow has been living in my mind rent free fr. can i request a fic with just some fluff man??? maybe the morning after doin the deed and its jus sleepy comfort?? like full on jus obsessed with each other and loving on one another. i adore sweet jon

omg most certainly (i was giggling and twirling my hair while writing this)

waking up next to jon snow was alike to your prayers being answered—seeing his curly crow hair tousled around his face, strong arms engulfing you, and god, his chest rising up and down softly because he was breathing. your eyes trace his scars, the ones that paint his heart so utterly devastatingly. jon’s eyelashes fluttered, opening his deep brown hues to the disturbance of your fingers gently tracing the heart that stole your own. glancing up, you give him a sleepy smile. “mornin’, lord commander,” you cheese out, scooting in closer to his frame.

jon snow, the man he was. the man who held upmost power and priorities to everyone who crossed his path. he didn’t care, and he always denied being fit for rule, was nothing like his father, he argued—nothing like robb. no one cared, including you. like a mission, you’d spread the message. while you take care of the young ones with gilly, ‘he is my king… just as he is lord commander,’ you’d argue to no one while washing clothes. and gazing at little sam, holding him tightly, she’d nod. because sam felt the same way. as did everyone. jon snow was a protector.

your name is what brought you back, all deep and rough, an all tooth smile with knitted brows. “huh?” you’d say, just as tired, just as rough—and jon snow could never get enough of you. his calloused, war-stricken hand ghosts your cheek, runs through your hair. it was never enough, and he showed you that, leaning in to capture your soul in a kiss that had you swooning, eyes closing to relish in nothing but his touch and love.

waking up next to him was a blessing in itself, but when he’d look at you with such admiration… when he’d touch you with care in a world that has forced him to be rough and cruel, you felt like you were floating. your lips moved lazily together, and his lips pulled up into a sweet grin against yours, couldn’t help the chuckle that vibrated against your chest. you love him so dearly. he left you speechless in many ways, but jon snow knew how to make you forget.

it was you and him against the agony in the game of thrones.

#kel’s anon show 📺#jon snow x reader #jon snow x you #jon x reader #jon snow #game of thrones fanfiction #got fanfiction #i apologize if this is short #i have not written in so long omg

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draeisgrayte · 2 months

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Under the Goddess' Veil [TEASER]

A/n: This fic was a tad bit spur of the moment to take a break from rewriting some of Lady of Amberguard. Turns out I really like the idea and haven't been able to stop writing on it for 2 days. I will say this will be a bit of plot in the first 4 or 5 thousand words but from then on...dear Lord forgive me for the absolute FILTH I have planned.

Description: I'll give a silly one for right now, basically a maiden gets sacrificed to 5 dragons and a lot of fucking happens. The end.

Pairings: Obanai Iguro, Sanemi Shinazugawa, Giyuu Tomioka, Uzui Tengen, and Kyojuro Rengoku x reader

ENJOY!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“I was supposed to be sacrificed to you for the honor of my village…” You trail off, trying to connect the dots. You glance in the direction of Sanemi, his usually stern eyes softening when they connect with yours. “Are you going to eat me?” Your words sound pitiful, like you had accepted that fact already – and you had. You’d be raised on the single constant that you would be fed to the Gods atop the neverending tips.

Uzui appears in front of you, a lazy smirk playing with his lips as he leans down to be eye level with you. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He purrs, rolling his smirk into his mouth.

Kyojuro pushes forward, his long hair whipping in the wind Obanai was still creating. “Your humans assume when we request a maiden to be given to us that we would feast upon her supple flesh,” He sighs, looking at Obanai as he speaks. “Every century our loneliness becomes unbearable. There was the occasional soul that attempted to harm us, wanting to take the hoard for themself, but that didn’t last long. Other draconics would visit us, but some of them would fight for our territory.” Your eyes are drawn to Sanemi again and his plethora of scars. He avoids your gaze at all costs, he finds the outer wall of the cave particularly interesting.

Kyojuro continues with a solemn smile. “Then one day a beautiful woman found her way into the lower tunnels. She came begging us to help her village, people were sick – dying. She was ready to give anything to us for the sake of the people.”

Uzui, who is leaning against the wall, pipes up again. “So she gave us her body.” Your brows knit together. Her body? What exactly did that mean? Kyojuro shoots him a glare before setting himself in front of your gaze, staring into your eyes.

“The women before you were scared, frightened of the big bad monsters within the Ponorich peaks. Most of them tried to escape with no avail…they would get lost and starve or stay within our sight and do the same thing. There were others that would find our hoard and selfishly conspire to harm us to take it.” Kyojuro’s eyes are bright swirls. “We want a mate, a bride.” Bride…you had dreamed about a day adorned with joy once. It had been a quick thought, squashed by the reality that you understood from a very young age. Though, now perhaps you could live the life that had been taken away from you.

The wind dies down and you quickly look behind to find Obanai stepping onto the edge in a graceful manner. He nods his head at you, an ethereal glow still present in his eyes. It made your stomach dip in the strangest way. "You can have one of us,” He waves his arm to the group of men, their eyes trained on you. Obanai steps forward, picking up your hands softly. You peer at him through your lashes. “Or all of us." He finishes. A distinguishing feeling glides through your very being. Something that tells you if you were going to die for the village the least you could do was live for them.

"I-I'd like to have all of you..." You stammer, your confidence dropping with every second. When did you decide to become so brazen? Here you were, a maiden surrounded by five men that surely looked upon you with heat and desire.

"Are you sure you can handle that little doe? Becoming the wife of five hungry dragons isn't going to be easy. You will ache when you are without us and you will ache when you are with us." Giyuu coos, placing a hand on your back. It sends licks of warmth that jolt to where you had never been touched.

“You will become ours in every way possible.” Uzui is now to your other side, hand upon your waist. “We will take you whenever we want,” A piece of hair falls to the side of his ear, distracting you for a moment until he brings your gaze back to him with fingers under your chin. “And you can take us whenever you want.”

Kyojuro hangs his arms around your shoulders, placing himself square behind you. The thin material of your slip does nothing to hide the warmth radiating off the man. “When our heat occurs you will have to be careful. One of us may ravish you and then two more join in.” He nudges your head with affection and your stomach stirs.

“Are you willing to make sacrifices?” Sanemi asks, still standing a few feet away from the huddle the rest of them had now created around you.

“I was raised to do so.” You reply, a confident nod moving your head.

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myseungsunglove · 9 months

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Don’t Mess with a Good Thing | Hjs

Pairing: Jisung x Reader

Warnings: All the fluff

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You’ve loved your best friend Han Jisung for as long as you can remember. Really there has only ever been him, but neither of you have ever owned up to it. Until one morning when everything changes.

A/N: I adapted this fic from many years ago when I used to write very regularly. Hope it works okay and that you enjoy it as much as I do.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

You sat on the balcony of the condo you shared with Jisung, Changbin, Chan, and Hyunjin watching the sun rise. Han Jisung had been your best friend since you were fourteen. The last nine years had been some of the best times of your life as well as some of the most trying and confusing.

When you first moved to Seoul to train at JYP, you didn’t really know anyone. At least not anyone training. Your family had moved away from South Korea to the States when you were five. You’d spent most of your formal school years there but always went to Seoul to visit grandparents. You spent every summer in Seoul and every summer your grandparents made sure your music lessons were always a priority and continued while you were with them.

Fast forward and it was 2014. You impulsively auditioned for JYP over the summer and got accepted into the training program. The entire trajectory of your life shifted in that moment. On the first day of training, you met Han Jisung. Somehow, over the course of the next three years you’d find yourself friends with Jisung, Chan, and Changbin, helping them produce music and lyrics for songs as you all trained together at JYP. It got even crazier when JYP himself allowed Chan to form a group of self selected members for trial debut and Chan pulled the biggest surprise on JYP he could have managed. He picked you along with 8 other guys. 1 girl, 9 guys. It was something JYP had never even thought to try. He made it pretty clear from the beginning he thought it’d never work when he decided to allow your group to compete on the Survival Show Stray Kids. He even eliminated members from your tight knit group in effort to derail your hopes of debuting as a unit, but you were dumbfounded that you were never in danger. When Minho and Felix had both been eliminated, you’d all been floored. Devastated. When they came back in the end, it was like you were whole again and gave one of the best performances of the show with all of you together. The rest was history. you’d all go on to debut as Stray Kids in 2018. During all of that, 3Racha1 was a constant and important pillar in your life. They had added the one to 3Racha when it was clear that you were an extremely important part of their unit and they wanted to move forward with you, whatever the cost may be. And of course the other members of what would become known as Stray Kids became like family as Chan intently and purposefully picked each one.

Han Jisung was the best friend you had ever had, though. You shared things with him that you wouldn’t dare tell another living, breathing soul. You were fairly certain that door swung both ways. You knew secrets about Jisung that you didn’t think any of the boys knew about him. That only seemed to strengthen your relationship and bond with Jisung. He was the most important person in your life. You lived with the boys so that you weren’t excluded from bonding with the group simply for being a girl. It worked out better than anyone really could have expected. When the one dorm was just too cramped for the nine of you after four years and it was time to split into two groups, the natural order suggested that 3Racha1 stay together. You guys would drag poor Hyunjin along for the ride, but you knew he secretly loved the chaos. Deep down. Maybe way deep down but it was there.

You sighed contentedly as you sipped your coffee, reminiscing about the last nine years and how the hell you had gotten to where you were in 2023, two days shy of leaving for fucking Paris to headline at Lollapalloza. It really all felt like a dream, but with the boys and especially Jisung by your side, you know it was all worth it.

You realized that you were in love with Jisung about a year and a half ago while prepping for the Oddinary comeback . You were always stubborn about admitting your feelings and letting yourself actually feel. If truth were to be told, you’d probably been in love with him most of your friendship. Who could blame you, really. The two of you acted like a married couple. You did everything that couples did short of making out and making love. Some days you desperately longed for that element of your relationship to blossom, but you were never sure if Jisung saw you as more than a friend or not. So you kept it strictly platonic. Ish.

He took you out on surprise date nights to quite corners where no one could find or bother you, you cuddled up together in bed and watched anime and Kdramas for hours on end on your days off hiding away from the world. He’d occasionally make you breakfast in bed which was always entertaining because he wasn’t the best cook, but he still liked to spoil you all the same. He’d often surprise you with plane tickets home when you had longer hiatuses, always insisting that he come along too. All of your friends at home would joke with him about when he was going to get you a ring and make it official. He’d laugh and say that you would never see it coming, winking at you as he pulled you into his side right where you belonged. It was the running joke every time you brought him home with you.

You weren’t really sure you were ever going to get the chance to tell him how you felt. You worried about the dynamics of the group and the viability of 3Racha1 if he didn’t return your feelings. Your mom always told you, “Don’t mess with a good thing, Y/N.” And who were you to screw up nine years of friendship? You cared about Jisung too much.

You took another sip of your coffee, pulling it close to you for warmth. A smile broke out across your face as the sun peeked out over the horizon. The warm golden yellow filled the air suddenly, taking your breath away.

“Beautiful,” Jisung said from the door behind you.

“It is, isn’t it?” you replied, turning and expecting to see him looking out at the gorgeous sunrise. Instead, his eyes were trained on you. He smiled at you as you cocked an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “What are you up to, Han Jisung?”

“I’ve been thinking,” he started, but you cut him off.

“Uh oh. Stop the press. Ji is thinking. We’re all in trouble!” you laughed as he sat down beside you.

“Seriously,” he chuckled, stealing your coffee from your hands and setting it on the coffee table, but not before taking a long drink from your cup and sighing contentedly.

“Hey! If I don’t drink that, I’ll be falling asleep on any surface I set foot on in the studio this morning. Give it back,” you whined, jutting your bottom lip out in a pout.

“God, I love you,” Jisung laughed, pulling you close into the crook of his side, right where you belonged.

“Damn straight you do,” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his waist and snuggled into him, your face pressing close to his neck, your head resting gently on his broad shoulder. The air suddenly felt a little chilly and you burrowed closer to him, thankful that, for such a small person, he radiated heat like the sun.

Jisung kissed your temple, lingering longer than usual, inhaling deeply. You sighed. You really could stay like this forever. He spoke aloud what you were thinking.

“I could stay here just like this forever,” he said, pulling you closer, the tips of his fingers ghosting your skin where your shirt was riding up slightly. You shivered in response and his fingers dug into your bare skin lightly. “Only one thing would make it better,” he mumbled.

You placed your hand on his chest and pushed yourself up, so that you could look into his beautiful brown eyes.

“What could possibly make this better, dude?” you glared, pretending to be insulted that you weren’t enough to make the moment perfect. In truth, you were a little disappointed.

“This,” Jisung answered, his free hand landing on the base of your neck, pulling your lips to his. A jolt of electricity shot through you. You had only dreamt of this moment. Was this a dream?

His lips moved against yours with reverence, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip and daring into your mouth.

You pulled away, breathless. “Ji,” you whispered, your fingers running along the base of his hairline, the muscles in his neck responding to your touch.

He reached for his pocket, pulling something small from it. “That and this,” he said with a smile, holding the most beautiful ring you had ever seen.

You were speechless. Tears pooled in your eyes as you tried to process what was happening. Jisung spoke before you could form a sentence.

“I love you. You’re my best friend. I tell you everything. You are the person I spend 99% of my time thinking about. I think about how I can make you laugh. How I can make you smile. God, I think about what your lips would feel like against mine and damn if I wasn’t right. I’m cursing myself for not acting sooner,” he said, kissing you deeply once more. The connection was real and intense and you’d never felt anything like it before. The way his lips moved against yours, it’s like they were meant to be yours and yours alone.

He pulled away hesitantly, you chasing after his now kiss swollen lips. He chuckled softly.

“I think about how I’ve been madly in love with you for years, and how I think you love me too. I think about how you are the person I want to come home to everyday for the rest of my life. I think about what it would be like to make love to you, and I lose my mind. You make me lose my mind in the best way possible. That’s when I realized I wanted you to be my wife. What we have right now is a thousand times better than most couples I know, and we aren’t even dating. We’re better. I finally figured out the only thing we were missing was you having my last name and me knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you are mine and I am yours. From the moment I met you, I knew there wouldn’t be anyone else baby,” Jisung finished, smiling at you, wiping away the tears that were steadily falling down your cheeks.

“Ji,” you whispered, pulling his lips to yours with passion. Once you were both rendered breathless again, Jisung pulled away hesitantly, not wanting to let you go now that he really had you for the first time.

“Y/N, will you marry me? I know we’re skipping a few steps and the boys will have to adjust, but this couldn’t feel more right,” he said, taking your hand and holding the ring in his other hand, looking at you like you held his entire world in your answer. In truth, the guys all treated you like you were together anyway. This wouldn’t really change anything except making it official. Sure you’d have hoops to jump through with the company, but you knew Chan would help you guys navigate those waters. Since he was like a big brother to you and Jisung, he was more than aware of your feelings for each other, both of you having confided in him over the years.

“Jisung, I love you. Yes. I’ll marry you. It’s always been you. It will always be you,” you said through tears as he slid the perfect ring onto your finger. You were marrying your best friend. The love of your life all without the pressures of dating.

“I told you you’d never see it coming,” Jisung smiled, kissing your temple.

“I always thought you were joking,” you grinned, beaming from ear to ear.

“I’m glad. If you thought that I was serious it would have ruined my plan. I could not have been more serious, baby.”

“My family is gonna to be shocked,” you laughed, staring at the ring as it sparkled in the morning light.

“I don’t think so,” Jisung smiled. “They saw the way I looked at you when you weren’t looking. Your dad told me the last time we were there that I better take good care of you. That he knew where to find me. Said he would be proud to have a son like me. Someone who loved his daughter so unconditionally,” Han confessed.

Your hand flew to your mouth. “He didn’t,” you gasped with a giggle.

“He did, but Y/N he couldn’t have been more right. I had the ring then. I’ve had it for almost a year,” Jisung revealed.

“Wow,” you managed as Jisung’s lips fell on yours again, his hand roaming your sides hungrily, slowly pushing the fabric of your night shirt up. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The way his touch set you on fire only served to confirm that being with him was always meant to be. You were on a collision course to this moment and neither of you had known.

Jisung was your best friend. Now fiance. You couldn’t wait to call him your husband, you thought as his lips traveled your body, showing you just how much he loved every inch of you.

“Is it done?” A chorus of voices rang out onto the patio, startling you and Jisung apart.

“Oh god!” Hyunjin cried when he saw Jisung’s hand up your shirt, laying across you on the bench.

“My eyes!” Chan mocked, covering his eyes.

“I think it’s done,” Changbin laughed.

You sat up, straightening your clothes and easing a very reluctant Han off of you as he settled down by your side.

“You’re looking at the future Mrs. Han Jisung,” he boasted, his hand holding yours as he showed the boys your ring.

“Bout fucking time,” Chan laughed which made all of you laugh in turn. “We should all get moving along. I’m pretty sure the early bird house is probably all already ready for the celebration breakfast. They actually sleep at night, unlike us,” he chortled with a yawn.

“Celebration breakfast?” you questioned, looking at Jisung. “Did everyone know about this?”

He smiled mischievously. “Maybe,” he admitted.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “How did Jeongin not spill the beans?” You laughed. “Hell, how did you all keep this locked down so long?”

“Chan, Minho, and Seungmin are the only ones that have known longer than a week,” Jisung laughed. “The rest of these knuckleheads couldn’t have been trusted to keep their mouths shut.” He glanced at Hyunjin.

“Hey! I resent that,” Hyunjin pouted.

“You know he’s right,” Changbin laughed, clapping Hyunjin on the back.

You smiled fondly at them, leaning in to kiss Han once more. His hand came to rest on your cheek as he pressed closer to you once more.

“Alrighty,” Chan said, clapping his hands together and walking back inside, dragging the other two with him. “Don’t get too handsy, you two. We should probably leave within the hour before Minho shows up at our doorstep,” he warned with a chuckle.

��Shit,” you mumbled against Jisung’s mouth. “Can’t have that. Between him and Seungmin, we will never hear the end of being late even if this is all about us,” you laughed.

Jisung tossed his head back, a belly laugh emitting from him at the thought.

“You’re so right. Better get moving,” he agreed, jumping up and offering you his hand, the most beautiful smile on his face. You took it, the stupidest, happiest smile plastered on your own. He pulled you close, kissing you slowly once more. “Damn,” he sighed. “Why haven’t we been doing this all along? I’m never gonna get enough of you,” he admitted with a low growl against your lips.

“I’m all yours, Han Jisung. Tonight I’ll show you just what that means,” you promised, running your hand along his chest as you walked past him back into the house, heading for the shower.

“Fuck,” he whispered, watching you walk away, daring a glance back at him with a wink. “How about you show me now,” he teased, chasing after you which caused you to take off toward the bathroom. You reached it before he could catch you and closing the door and locking it behind you. “Sorry, babe. Guess you’ll have to wait,” you teased. You heard him sigh and moan, slumping against the door momentarily.

“Just you wait, y/n,” he warned. “Just you wait,” he repeated as he trudged down the hall to his own room to get ready.

You leaned against the door with a happy sigh. You couldn’t believe how much your life had changed in the last hour and you couldn’t be more excited for the changes it meant for the future. You were engaged to Han Jisung. You were the luckiest girl in the world.

#stray kids #stray kids x reader #han jisung x reader #han jisung x you #skz han #han jisung imagine #han jisung fic #han jisung oneshot #Han Jisung fluff

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the-case-book-of-fanfiction · 11 months

Text

A Kiss Kiss

Ship: Eddie x bestfriend!reader

Summary: The Hellfire Club is one member short, but Eddie refuses to let the campaign slow down. That's where you come in, Eddie's "tutor" turned into his muse.

Word Count: 4,728 words

Warnings: mention of sickness, fluffy, pining Eddie, oblivious reader, brief/slightly bad description of a D&D session, sugar as a pet name for reader, excessive mention of how pretty Eddie's eyes are

Note: This fic is set several weeks before the events of season 4. The campaign is leading up to the session we see in the show! Reader has graduated, but stayed in Hawkins to help Eddie graduate.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

"Lights...perfect. Got everything here... Where are my— There are my character sheets. Do I have...? Yes."

Eddie paced around the room one more time, checking everything for the fifth time. He needed to be certain that everything was ready. The session had to go perfectly. He'd planned for every possible curveball the party could throw at him, every stupid request and every bad roll and every plot twist he could use without straying too far from the course of the game. He'd been building up this campaign for too long to let it go awry just a few sessions away from his grand finale.

He twisted his rings around his fingers, giving the table one last look before sitting on his throne.

"It's gonna be fine," Eddie mumbled to himself, adjusting his stack of character sheets. "Everything's gonna be ooohhh-kaaaay."

The door opened. He looked up, expecting his players, and found you standing in the doorway instead, your eyebrow raised.

"Do I want to know why you're psyching yourself up for this like you do before your exams?"

Eddie groaned. "Let's not talk about my exams."

You made your way over to your own chair, which was sat just a few feet away from Eddie's. (He'd been inching it closer to him every time, but he wasn't going to tell you that, and he didn't think you'd noticed yet.) "You mean the exams you should be studying for?"

"They're weeks away! I have to finish the campaign, too."

Your eyebrows knitted as you leaned forward, trying to catch his eye. "You have to graduate, Eds."

For a moment, his heart dropped into his stomach. He hated that. He hated the way you sounded both hopeful and hopeless. He hated knowing where that sound came from, that you were really hoping the two of you would finally leave Hawkins together, like you'd planned to do two years ago, before he got told he wasn't graduating.

He still remembered the way your face had dropped when he'd told you. That looked crossed your face in his nightmares.

"If I don't—"

"Eddie..."

"If I don't," he repeated, a bit more forceful, "you don't have to stay with me. You should go to college and start your life."

You reached over, putting your hand on top of his. "You're going to graduate this time. You're so close, Eddie. You just need to pass your finals, and then you're out of here."

He looked over at you, expecting anger or annoyance, but he just found kindness. He always found kindness. "You can tutor me later, okay?"

"Good—because I brought all my physics notes, and there's no way in hell I'm lugging those things around for no reason."

Eddie grinned. You returned it, seeming to stare into his soul. Eddie felt a familiar flutter, one that he'd been ignoring for the past four, almost five, years. He buried it quickly, before he could get distracted enough to lose track of his campaign.

Not today, Munson, he told himself, tearing his eyes away. He could see how your gaze lingered on him for a moment, soft enough that he almost wanted to admit he was feeling those flutters—and possibly ruin eight years of friendship in the process.

"Not today," he mumbled to himself.

You raised your eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Nothing important." He glanced over and found your eyes pinned on him, gaze narrowed. "I'll tell you later." You nodded, satisfied, and he neglected to tell you that later meant on my deathbed.

The door opened again, and this time it was Gareth and Jeff. Eddie grinned the instant he realized their excitement matched—maybe even surpassed—his.

He left his throne to clap Gareth on the back. "Ready for this?"

Gareth grinned. "You have no idea. I've planned for everything you could throw at us."

Jeff snorted. "No, you didn't. Look at his notebook—he's got plans within plans over there."

"Ah, ah, ah! No you don't!" Eddie swooped back to his spot, dramatically clutching his notebook to his chest. "Avert your eyes."

You giggled from the corner. Eddie glanced over and the flutters came back; you were doing that beautiful thing you did, where you tried to cover your smile with your hand but it still peeked through. God, Eddie loved that smile—and he knew the rest of Hellfire did, too. He glanced back over and found Gareth practically swooning, very red in the face. He rolled his eyes.

"Where are the little sheep?" he asked, glancing at the empty spots where the three freshman he'd adopted usually sat. "And Grant? Jesus, where is everybody?"

"Grant is on his way, saw him in the hall," Jeff said. "Don't know anything about the freshies."

Eddie's jaw clenched. "If Sinclair's skipping out on us for basketball, I swear to God—"

You put a hand on Eddie's shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. He turned to you immediately, missing the look that passed between Gareth and Jeff. "Easy there, Eds. Maybe they got held for a few minutes after class. You know there are plenty of teachers here that will hold back a class they think has been too rowdy after the bell. Or..." You fixed him with a stern look he would never admit made his stomach swoop. "Certain rowdy students."

He looked away from you, awkwardly rubbing the burning blush climbing his neck. "It was one time!"

"Twice," you insisted. "And that's only that I know of! For all I know, it could have happened on nights we weren't going out, and you just never told me!"

Gareth peered around Eddie to see you. "Going out?"

You nodded. "For milkshakes and things—"

Eddie pushed his finger against your lips. "Shhhh, let's not talk about that, okay?"

You met Eddie's gaze. Mutual understanding passed between you, accompanied by an intense heat and a deep sense that you had misspoke. Eddie felt embarrassment curling in his stomach; it was clear that while you didn't understand you were about to describe the failed attempts at dating you Eddie had made throughout the years, the other two absolutely did. He was never going to hear the end of this.

Once again, the door opened, this time slamming directly into the wall next to it. Eddie's eyes flicked away from you and toward the two freshman in the doorway, Dustin ahead of Lucas, who still had his arm pushing the door open. Both were frozen, eyes wide as if they'd interrupted something they weren't supposed to attend.

But then Eddie realized what the situation looked like to them. He had, unknowingly, wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close to him to press his finger against your lips.

And with the way you were looking at him...

Eddie cleared his throat and let go of you, stepping away as if nothing had ever happened. "Where's the third one?" he snapped.

"Um...that's what we came to tell you," Dustin said, glancing at Lucas for support. "He. Um. Mike is..."

"Not feeling well," Lucas put in. "So he won't be here today."

Eddie knew his expression wasn't pleasant. He didn't try to change it. "Not...feeling...well," he repeated, words staccato and mocking.

The two boys nodded.

"Is he alright?" you asked.

"Uh...not really?" Dustin squeaked. "He, um." Lucas kicked him in the shins.

"He what?" Eddie snapped.

You put your hand on Eddie's back, shooting him an admonishing glare. His stomach swooped again, a pleasant mix of fear and arousal. He sat in his throne, placing his elbows on the armrests and leaning forward, hoping it would hide the tent in his pants he was sure would make an appearance if you kept up with those gentle touches.

"What's wrong with little Wheeler?" Eddie sighed, trying to soften his voice. You didn't glare at him again, so he guessed he did a good enough job.

Grant appeared behind the two freshman. "Does anybody know that Mike just threw up in the hallway?"

Lucas groaned as Dustin tried to hide the words with a belated, hissing shush.

"Oh, Jesus," Eddie sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. With his hair creating a curtain to hide his face, he wiped his hand over his face, willing himself to pull it together.

He felt a hand on the back of his chair. When you spoke, he knew it was you. "Does Nancy know?"

Lucas nodded. "We went to tell her. That's why we were late."

"Shut up!" Dustin hissed. "Mike didn't want us to..." He glanced over. "Oh, what the hell? Cat's already out the bag."

"Nancy?" Gareth frowned. "What's she got to with it?"

You fixed him with a dry look that spat his question back in his face. Eddie had seen that look before, hated every time it was directed at him but loved when the other boys pining over you got it. "To take him home, Gareth."

"But what about the campaign?"

"What, you'd rather him throw up on the table? I'm sure Eddie would love that, wouldn't you?"

Eddie folded his hands together. "No, but it does create a problem—we are now one player short."

Silence fell. Eddie felt the question building up, felt everyone come to same realization and "solution" at the same time. He rapped his fingers against the armrest, waiting to see who would be brave enough to suggest it first.

It was Gareth. "Should we...postpone? Wait for him to get better?"

Eddie's attention snapped toward him. "Oh? Wait for him to get better, you say? And how long's that gonna take? A week, two? No—waiting would throw off the entire campaign. We need a sub for him."

"No one would play with such short notice, Eddie," Jeff said, shaking his head. "If this happened yesterday, maybe we could find someone, but everyone's left. Unless you want to go ask the basketball team if they'll spare another player—"

"Don't be stupid," Eddie growled.

"There's no sub, Eddie, you have to be reasonable about this," Gareth began. Eddie bristled.

"I'll sub."

Every head in the room turned toward you. Surprise flooded Eddie's brain. You wanted to play? The last time you'd played, it had been the same situation. You'd stood in for someone else, halfway through a campaign, and had been so confused you'd sworn off D&D for good.

"What?" Dustin said.

"I'll play in Mike's stead," you said. "I've done it before. Long time ago, and it wasn't exactly...great, but I'll do it." You glanced at Eddie. "If you want me to, that is. I know last time was kind of a disaster, but—"

Eddie worldlessly shuffled through his stacks. He sifted through every page and then flipped open a very worn down folder. There, at the back, was the page he was searching for. He handed it to you.

"Is this...?"

"The same character sheet as last time? Yep."

You stared at him. "You kept it?"

He shrugged. "'Course I did. I keep everything."

"No wonder your room is so messy," you teased.

He rolled his eyes. He saw Dustin's eyes go huge and knew the kid had taken it the wrong way. He had no desire to correct him. "Alright, that's enough of that. Everybody sit." He caught your arm before you could move away from him. "You stay close in case you need help. You need a refresher?"

You glanced down at the sheet he'd given you. "Um...maybe a little? Sorry."

"No problem, sugar. C'mere a second."

You did as you were told, the pet name going through you like lightning. Only Gareth seemed to notice, his gaze losing a little bit of light as he did.

~❊~

The ticking of a clock filled the room, coming not from the one on the wall but from Eddie himself, who was surprisingly good at mimicking the sound with his mouth. An eerie, whispering, scraping sound filled the room. If you hadn't been next to Eddie, where you could see his hand scraping the underside of the table, it would have freaked you out. On your other side, Lucas tensed.

"You hear it from a distance at first," Eddie said, his voice low. "But it's getting closer with every second." He mimicked the clock again. "The sound of magic and of chains."

Gareth shuddered.

"There's chanting around you. Too late, you realized you've stepped into a trap."

Half of the table groaned. Eddie's face lit up with a maniacal grin.

"He enters the clearing, cloaked and whistling." Eddie whistled. Unsteady and menacing, he swept his gaze across the table, making brief eye contact with every single player. "Try as you might, you have not the wits to escape me." His voice was deep and gravelly. Goosebumps broke out on your skin. You'd heard Eddie change his voice time and time again, but it never failed to shock you. "There is no stopping power as great as this."

Eddie locked eyes with you. A thrill went down your spine. "Yet there is always room for improvement. Magic is never satisfied."

"Here we go," Dustin whispered, his hands in white-knuckled fists.

Eddie leaned back. "From his cloak, Vecna draws a dagger. He lifts it into the air. Ritual must be satisfied." He turned to you. "What do you do, dear traveller?"

Your heart stopped. This was different from the lighthearted flirting you'd been doing with the other characters Eddie had pit you and the others against. You knew enough from his summary to know Vecna was not one of his regular, smaller villains, and you knew from the fear from the others around the table there was only one way this was going to go.

"I...try to stall Vecna, try to attack to give the others time to get away," you said after a moment. Eddie paused briefly, something flashing in his eyes. Slowly, he grinned.

"Roll," he said, nodding to the dice he'd set in front of you at the beginning of the game.

Heart in your throat for no apparent reason, you did. You didn't have to look at it to know how it went; you heard the groan of the others around you, heard the soft sound Eddie made, and knew your roll had not been high enough.

"You run at Vecna but are easily caught," Eddie said, and you reopened your eyes. "He puts the dagger at your throat. The others are terrified and trying to decide if they should help or run." He looked at the others. "Well? What do you do?"

You heard them each say that they would try to help, voices trembling. But roll after roll was far too low, so, one by one, they fled.

Eddie turned back to you. "So much for your friends, little one. Perhaps you shall meet them again, when I have killed them, too. He shoves the dagger through you and your world goes black, but not before you..." He made eye contact with you. There was a plea in his gaze. You studied him, saw the exhaustion in him. You glanced at the clock on the wall; the session had been going for nearly three hours. You could tell he was hoping it would be done very soon—and that you had a chance to end it now.

But what did you have to do?

Curse Vecna? Spit in his face? Cleverly not die?

Eddie licked his lips, hiding a mouthed word in the action. Summon.

You sucked in a breath. "I cast a summoning spell."

There's triumph in Eddie's face. "For what?"

You let instinct guide you this time. "Anyone who can help. Anyone who can defeat Vecna."

Eddie's grin was nearly villainous. "Roll, sugar."

You closed your eyes again and let the dice fly from your hands. You waited, not breathing, until you heard it stop roll. Eddie gave a shout of victory.

"Your spell is successful! With your last breath, you summon help from all four corners of the world, and lo and behold, a figure appears in the woods before you. As the world goes black, you see a cloaked man step out from the shadows. He throws back his hood and Vecna sneers. You catch a glimpse of his face as your vision fades to black, and standing above you is your savior—Kas the Bloodyhanded."

Eddie snapped his book shut. The reaction was immediate, his party leaping to their feet, yelling and shouting. You flinched against the wall of noise. Eddie grinned at you.

"Not bad for your second go," he said, voice still low and husky underneath the noise.

You smiled at him. "I hope you're aware I'm not letting you get away with not studying tonight."

He rolled his eyes, but his smile remained. "Of course not."

Dustin finally succeeded in trying to get Eddie's attention by leaning over Lucas and peering around your arm. "What?! Kas? That's insane!"

You leaned out of the conversation, leaving your chair and gathering up the notebooks and pencils you'd left on the floor. You might not have understood everything that was going on in the game, but you enjoyed it nonetheless; the party clearly loved what Eddie had put together just as much as he did. You knew that appreciation was not something Eddie saw often, and you were glad he got it here, at least.

The party stayed longer than they normally did after games, until Steve poked his head through the door and scolded Dustin to get a move-on. The others dispersed quickly after that, until it was just you and Eddie left.

He turned to you with a huge grin. "That was amazing, huh?"

You giggled. "I'll admit I was a little confused, but I'll chalk that up to joining in on a session halfway through your campaign and not your DM'ing skills."

Eddie started his cleanup process, reorganizing the table and putting away everything that wouldn't be needed until the next session. He eyed you. "I'm surprised you got my hints—happy, of course, but surprised, too."

You left your stuff on your chair and helped him clean the table. You shrugged. "I knew you were tired. And you'd explained the campaign up to now well enough, I knew what you meant when you said to summon." You shivered. "But I see now why the boys are always so terrified during games. It's so high-stakes!"

Eddie grinned, and it looked slightly malevolent. "Helps that I'm so intimidating."

"You're joking, but you're absolutely intimidating," you said. "I've never seen you so intense before." You gave him a sly, teasing smile. "Maybe if you applied that to your studying, we'd be in a different state by now."

The smile slid off Eddie's face. Guilt clouded his eyes, and you knew immediately you hadn't come off as joking as you'd like to have.

"Oh, Eddie, I didn't mean... That's not what I wanted it to sound like."

He sighed heavily. "No, but you're right. You could be out of here, at least. I mean, like I was saying earlier—"

You dropped the papers you were holding and cut him off by cupping his face in your hands. His breathing stopped along with his words. You were shaking your heard fiercely.

"That's enough of that, Eddie. I told you I was going to help you graduate, and I am. I'm not leaving you here, Eds. I can't imagine life without you. You have been here for me through everything, and I'm going to to the same for you. Alright?" You ran your thumb across his cheekbone. "You mean the world to me."

He curled his arms around you, tugging you flat to his chest and squeezing tight. "Thank you for believing in me," he whispered, just as he had when you'd first told him you were going to help him graduate. You were just glad this time the words came without tears.

"I've always believed in you," you whispered. "Always."

You pulled back away from him, idly playing with one of his curls. For a moment, it was just the two of you staring at each other, Eddie's big eyes more than a little wet. For a moment, the air between you changed.

Eddie's heart began to pound. He watched your gaze drop briefly from his eyes to his mouth and wondered if it was about to happen. If he'd be brave enough to let it happen.

If he did, his deathbed was a lot closer than he'd thought it was, because he knew kissing you was going to prevent him from breathing for a good hour at least.

But you just smiled at him. "Come on—let's finish up here and go through my old physics notes. You're passing that test tomorrow."

He groaned. "I forgot there was a test tomorrow."

You laughed. "What did you think I was here for?"

"Me."

"Aside from you," you said, poking him in the side. He squirmed away from you.

"Finals, I guess. Something a few weeks away—not tomorrow."

You shrugged. "If you pass your test, you can pass the exam. Hurry it up, Munson."

He wrinkled his nose. "You sound like Harrington and Henderson."

"Well, it is almost nine."

Eddie yawned. "No wonder I'm tired. Alright, come on. Let's go home."

~❊~

Stifling your third yawn of the past ten minutes, you cuddled closer into Eddie's side. The night had turned out to be one of the lazier study sessions, which took place in Eddie's bed. Judging by how tired the two of you had become the moment you sat down amongst his blankets, that had been a mistake.

Sitting up had become laying down. Laying down had become cuddling.

This wasn't new to either of you. For as long as you'd known each other, you had been touchy and physical, growing up mostly touch-starved and finding comfort with each other.

But today, it felt different. Eddie couldn't quite put his finger on why today was different from normal, but even just looking at each other when you were checking to see if he was still paying attention resulted in outbursts of giggles.

And for some reason, he was paying even more attention to the smell of your shampoo than normal as he buried his face in your hair. He sighed softly, mumbled your name, and slid his arm over your stomach, his fingers splaying across your side.

You glanced over at him, putting your notebook back down on your lap. "Hey, you okay? We can stop if you're too tired."

"No," Eddie whined into your hair, pressing closer to you. "'m gonna fail if we stop."

You glanced at your notebook. "What's the equation for kinetic energy, Eds?"

He was quiet for a minute, and then he mumbled, "One half of mass times velocity squared."

"What about gravitational potential energy?"

"Mass times gravity times height."

You closed the notebook and threw it off the bed. "I think you're going to do just fine, Eds." You rolled over and wrapped him in a tight hug. "As long as you remember the equations, you can get through the test."

Though it seemed impossible with how at ease he already was, Eddie relaxed in your arms. He hummed softly and threw his leg over yours, clinging to you.

"You can do it, Eds. I believe in you." Without really knowing what you were doing, you leaned back and bent your neck to kiss his forehead. Your voice dropped to a low whisper. "I believe in you, baby."

He hummed. After a moment, he asked, "Did you just kiss me?"

You thought about it. "Not really," you said. "It wasn't a...a kiss kiss."

Eddie looked up at you, his face so buried in your hair and your shirt that you could only see those pretty eyes of his. "Do you wanna kiss kiss?"

You stared at him. You didn't know why you said it, or what courage possessed you to do so, but you smiled, almost bittersweet, as you said, "I've wanted to kiss kiss you for three years at least, baby."

Eddie whimpered in your arms, eyes growing wide. He wriggled in your arms until you were face to face. He stared at you a moment, lifting his hand to cup your cheek.

"Hi," you whispered, feeling slightly embarrassed now that the words were out.

"Hi." His voice was just as quiet. He brushed his fingers across your face, the touch gentle and loving.

"If you don't feel the same—"

"Of course I feel the same," Eddie said. "Of course I do. How couldn't I?"

You smiled. "Well, you did a bang-up job of hiding it."

"So did you," he murmured. "I've always thought I knew everything about you, but I didn't know that."

You laughed. "I don't know how you didn't know that—I wasn't exactly subtle. Why do you think I wanted to run away with you all these years? You thought I just wanted to go start a whole new life with you just because?"

Eddie huffed. "Well, we can chalk up me not noticing to me being a bit oblivious."

You giggled. "Let's face it, we were both a bit oblivious about our feelings to each other."

"Oh, God, yeah, if I had known you liked me, I would've asked you out back in high school." Eddie brushed your hair out of your face. "So, uh... Can we kiss kiss? Please? Please?"

You giggled. "I like the enthusiasm, Eds."

He whined. "Please?"

"Yes, baby," you whispered. "Kiss me. Kiss me."

Your eyes fluttered closed the instant Eddie's lips touched yours. You held each other's faces as you kissed, a clash of lips and teeth and tongues. You enjoyed the feeling—Eddie's lips were supple and soft, only slightly chapped.

When you broke apart, you smiled. "Your lips are soft."

"Yours are like heaven," Eddie said, pecking them again. "My own personal heaven." He wound his arms around you, tucking himself back into your embrace. "I'm never letting you go now, okay?"

"Oh, believe me, I never want you to." You brushed your hand through his hair, earning a soft, content sigh from him. "Let's get some sleep. And tomorrow morning—you're going to pass your physics test."

"You have such faith in me," he whispered, eyes already closing.

"Of course I do, baby," you whispered, watching him lull himself to sleep in your arms. "Of course I do."

You kissed his nose and let him fall asleep in your arms.

~❊~

You were at Eddie's trailer before he was the next day, when he got out of school. He opened the door with a huge grin on his face, that only got bigger when he saw you waiting for him on his couch.

Before you could even greet him, he flung himself down next to you and whipped out a paper. He gave it to you, practically bouncing with excitement.

It was the physics test—with a big A+ circled at the top of it, the comment of, Wonderful job, Mr. Munson! written underneath.

You squealed. You put the paper down and threw your arms around him, kissing his cheek. "Oh, baby! I knew you could do it! I knew it!" You kissed all over his face. "I'm so proud of you, Eds!"

He pulled you closer to him, meeting for a deep kiss. "All because of you, angel. My sweet angel."

You curled up on the couch together, kissing like your lives depended on it, completely unbothered by the rest of the world or the show that you had put on before Eddie came home. You looped one of your arms around Eddie's neck, bringing a smile to his face.

Neither of you heard the door open. Neither of you saw Wayne walk in and stop the moment he saw the two of you, or the grin that appeared on his face at the sight of his nephew finally kissing the girl he'd been telling Wayne about for years, always with a bittersweet, love-stricken sigh.

The smile was a contained shadow of what it was by the time he said, "Took you two long enough."

You sprang apart, grinning sheepishly, but you both could still see the pride and happiness in Wayne's face, however much he tried to hide it.

You looked back at Eddie, kissing his nose and drawing a giggle from him. "Yeah." You kissed his soft lips. "I've been thinking the same thing."

~❊~

Stranger Things // Eddie Munson

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