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munson-blurbs · 19 days

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hope you don't mind me asking but could reader adopt harris officially? it'd be a sweet little blurb ☺️

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

Summary: Harris makes a special request on his birthday: for you to adopt him and officially be his mommy.

TW: mention of parental neglect/drug use, pretty much just all fluff and happiness

WC: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Mother's Day to all of the moms out there! Y'all are badasses who deserve to be celebrated. I used this video for the judge's dialogue to ensure accuracy.

February 2001

“So, Har,” Eddie starts through a mouthful of cake, “did you have a good birthday?”

Harris nods emphatically, digging into his own slice. A dollop of vanilla frosting dots the tip of his nose, but he continues eating, unbothered.

Eddie looks at you as you try to contain the inevitable mess that Hendrix will make. His chubby cheeks are already decorated with chocolate cake, and he’s only a few bites in. “Can you believe we have a nine-year-old now?”

You shake your head. The years truly have flown by, and though you haven’t had the privilege of being there for all of them, it feels as though Harris’s fifth birthday was only yesterday.

“What’s crazy to me is that Harris is the same age you were when I took you in,” Wayne says to Eddie. He glances at his nephew, a wistful look in his old eyes.

“Oh, yeah!” Harris grins. “I forgot you took care of Daddy.”

Eddie leans back in his seat and smirks. “Did you ever regret adopting me, Old Man?”

“Every damn day.”

While he may have tuned out his dad and grandfather’s back-and-forth, you can see Harris pause before he continues eating. He’s never been one to stifle his curiosity, the wheels in his head turning as he processes the information.

His time to ask a question grinds to a halt when Hendrix slams his little palm right into the cake slice, grabs a chunk of it, and smashes it into his face. If any actually got in his mouth, it would be a miracle.

Harris gets his opportunity later that night. Eddie tucks him into bed, pulling the SpongeBob comforter up to his chin, and kisses his head.

“Daddy?” Harris asks before Eddie can stand up.

“Hmm?”

“Why did Grampa adopt you?”

Eddie exhales, chewing on the inside of his cheek. As his eldest son has gotten older, he’s become more honest with him, not constantly shielding him from painful truths. He chooses his words carefully before speaking again.

“Well, my mom and dad weren’t good parents. They didn’t take care of me, and they made a lot of bad choices,” he says. Memories flash through his mind, ones of eviction notices and strangers constantly in his home. Ones of police officers snapping handcuffs on his parents’ wrists, the two of them too far gone to even register to the severity of the situation. He shakes it off, turning his attention back to Harris. “And so Grampa Wayne took me in and adopted me so I would have a safe, happy home.”

“Like how my mom made bad choices? My real mom?”

Eddie nods, wondering if Harris knows how closely their situations resembled each other. Except you did what your father didn’t–you changed, he reminds himself.

“Yeah, like that.”

Harris thinks for a moment. “But now Mom is my mom. So does that mean she adopted me?”

“No, she didn’t adopt you.” His heart sinks when he sees the small pout forming on Harris’s lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Why not?”

Eddie scratches at his jawline, his nails digging into a particular itchy patch of stubble. “Well, honestly…we wanted to make sure it was what you wanted, Har. Because Mom will love you no matter what,” he makes sure to add.

Without any hesitation, Harris declares, “It’s what I want.”

“Are you sure? You can sleep on it—” Eddie feels a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth despite his attempt to remain neutral. Yes, his son often acts on impulse, but Eddie can tell this isn’t one of those instances.

Harris huffs out an impatient sigh, irritated that he even has to explain himself. “Dad, I’m nine now,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’m almost double-digits. And I know I want Mom to adopt me.”

Eddie grins wider, pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “All right, bud. You got it.” He stands up with a grunt, something that Harris has already dubbed an ‘old man noise.’ “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, okay?”

“Mm-hm,” Harris agrees sleepily, cocooning himself in his blankets while Eddie turns out the light.

Eddie is teeming with excitement when he sees you sitting in the family room, an open bag of sour cream and onion potato chips in your lap. Hendrix was fast asleep in his crib, and it was finally time for you and your husband to relax.

“So,” Eddie says, sliding onto the couch cushion next to you and plucking a chip from the bag, “it turns out that the birthday boy has one more gift request. A big one, actually.”

You raise your brows. “How big? Like, Hot Wheels track big or space camp big?”

“Neither.” Eddie’s eyes gleam. “He wants you to adopt him.”

You sit up quickly, a smile stretching across your face. “Are you…are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Eddie says with a nod. “He insisted on it, actually. I don’t think you could say no even if you wanted to.”

His teasing would normally draw a snarky retort from you, but you’re too overwhelmed to come up with a quip. “Harris wants me to adopt him,” you say slowly, letting each word seep into your tongue.

Eddie kisses your cheek, his nose brushing your warm skin. “This is everything I ever wanted for him, you know,” he murmurs. Another kiss, then he tilts your chin so he can place his lips on yours. “Thank you for loving him.”

You snuggle in closer, your head resting on his shoulder. “Thank you for letting me.”

September 2002

It’s a special occasion when you can convince Eddie and Wayne Munson to wear a suit and tie, but you didn’t even have to ask today. Both men are dressed with their shirts tucked into their slacks—not jeans.

You smooth out a pleat in your dress, scoop Hendrix out of his Pack-N-Play, and grin at your family.

“You guys ready?” You ask, desperate to get everyone into the car before someone spills something on their clothes. While Harris and Hendrix would be the most obvious culprits of a mess, the men are just as capable of causing chaos.

Eddie slings Hendrix’s diaper bag over his shoulder and takes Harris’s hand in his. “Let’s ship out, team.”

“Ship out!” Hendrix echoes–loudly, right in your ear. You wince, but you can’t stay annoyed for too long, considering how happy you are. How happy everyone is; even the baby of the family, who doesn’t know why he’s in a good mood, just that he is.

Everyone piles into the sedan: Eddie in the driver’s seat, you in the passenger seat, and Wayne squished between his grandsons in the back.

“Don’t know how I ended up here,” Wayne grumbles, reaching behind for his seatbelt.

Eddie grabs your hand as he pulls onto the road, giving it a tender squeeze. This is a huge deal; logically, you know this. To Eddie, he’s officially giving his son the mother he always deserved, and you’ll be able to make all sorts of important decisions for Harris. But to you, there is no piece of paper that can strengthen or weaken your love for your oldest son. Still, this is a promise from you to Harris, one that you will never break.

The courthouse’s silence is promptly broken with the Munsons’ arrival, as your family’s presence tends to do. Hendrix enjoys the way his delighted shrieks reverberate down the empty hallway, and Harris grips a nearby bench to jump out his nervous energy.

“Har?” you call out, waving him over to a private spot. He stops jumping long enough to follow you, shaking his hands excitedly.

You crouch down to his height and dig through your purse until you find what you’re looking for: a shiny silver compass with a quote engraved on the back:

“If you don’t get lost, there’s a chance you may never be found.”

“Uncle Dusty recommended his favorite compass, and he said you can bring it on your next camping trip” you say with a smile, your lower lip trembling as you hold back tears. “I hope that every time you use it, you remember that I’ll always be here to help you find your way.”

Harris looks from you to the compass and back again. He grins and flings his arms around you, nearly knocking you over in the process.

“This is so cool!” He cheers. “I’m gonna show everyone!”

“What do you say?” Eddie reminds him, a twinkle in his eye.

Harris barely turns around to you to yell, “Thanks, Mom!”

Mom. That title never gets old, and you don’t think it ever will.

“Munson?” You jump slightly when a bailiff announces that it’s your turn to see the judge. He gives a small smile as you enter the courtroom, probably relieved that this is a joyful occasion that won’t likely require his intervention.

This is it, you think. You wish your dress had pockets to hide your trembling hands.

Everyone takes their positions. Harris stands between you and Eddie, and Wayne holds Hendrix at the end, ready to make a quick getaway in case the youngest Munson decides to throw a tantrum.

The judge addresses you directly. Her tone is firm but warm as she says, “Do you understand that if your petition for the adoption of Harris Wayne Munson is granted, you will be legally responsible for him?”

“Yes.” You feel Harris’s palm slide against yours; when you briefly look down, you see that his other hand is holding Eddie’s.

“And do you understand that this support includes food, clothing, shelter, as well as medical and educational support?” She continues.

You nod. “Yes.”

“And do you understand that if your request is granted, that you will be Harris’s parent in all respects, just as if he had been born to you?”

“Yes.” Your heart swells with love. Just as if he had been born to you. Even with the memorable pains and trials brought on by carrying and delivering Hendrix, you considered Harris just as much your son.

“And do you understand you will be undertaking the intellectual, spiritual, and moral guidance of Harris?”

You can almost hear your husband’s thoughts: Better her than me.

“Yes.”

The judge goes through a few more questions, all regarding your abilities to care for Harris. With each one, you feel Harris’s bouncing get more exuberant; part of you wishes you could join him.

Finally, she declares, “Based upon the reports and recommendations, this court finds that granting this petition is in the best interest of Harris.” She looks directly at Harris as she says, “Congratulations, she’s officially your Mommy.”

A choked sob escapes your throat, and your free hand flies to your mouth. You and Eddie both crouch down to embrace Harris, and you can’t help but notice the tears in your husband’s eyes. Wayne makes his way to you and, as best as he can with Hendrix still in his arms, wraps you in a hug. You think he might be the only adult not crying, but a tell-tale sniffle gives him away.

Hendrix is very confused by the overt display of emotion. The last time Wayne cried was well before the boy was born, back when the Colts won the 1970 Super Bowl against the Cowboys.

“Daddy? Mommy? Grampa?” He asks. “Why you cry?”

“We’re fine, buddy. Just have some big feelings. Happy feelings,” Eddie clarifies, kissing Hendrix on a chubby cheek. He looks at Harris and grins. “How does it feel, Har? Now that Mom adopted you?”

Harris scrunches up his face. “Like the same.”

You laugh and ruffle his hair. It’s not as wild as it was when he was your student, his curls less of a mop. “Good ‘the same’?”

He grins, nodding and hugging you again. “I can’t wait to tell all of my friends, and Uncle Dusty, and Mr. Will…”

Harris continues listing people he’s going to share his news with all the way to the parking lot. Some names you recognize, and others he might as well be making up.

“Wait! I almost forgot!” You reach into your purse and pull out a Ziploc bag containing five Oreos. “Everyone take one, but don’t eat it yet.”

When each person has an Oreo in their hand, you raise your own to eye-level and begin your toast. “To my first son, Harris. Thank you for making me a mommy.”

“To Harris!” Wayne and Eddie chorus, and Hendrix just yells his brother’s name before chowing down on his cookie.

As you all pile back into the car, Eddie takes your hand in his. Chocolate is still tucked into the crevices of his lips.

“To you, Sweetheart. Thank you for being the mommy Harris always wanted. Thank you for making us a family again.”

The kiss tastes of vanilla creme, sugary sweet, and you swear you wouldn’t have broken it if Wayne didn’t clear his throat.

“No need to make a third kid up there,” he mutters under his breath.

Eddie glares at him, hoping Harris didn’t overhear the comment, but you press on. “Shall we celebrate at the diner?”

“Can we share pancakes?” Harris beams.

You crane your neck and look back at him, once again overwhelmed by the amount of love you hold for him–for your son.

“I’d love to.”

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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into-the-very-fires-of-mordor · 2 months

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Do you think…

That in private, in the deep dark recesses of their bedroom, the night before he sailed away for war, he took her face in his hands and smoothed away the tears, his cool palms soothing her hot cheeks, her anguished eyes meeting his longing ones. Do you think he kissed her forehead with his soft yet slightly chapped lips, bringing his lips to her ears and softly whispering that if he didn’t return, he wouldn’t blame her. He truly wouldn’t. Telemachus would need a father after all. This was a thought that could not be said except in the darkest recesses of night. After all, the queen had to keep the throne safe for the king, everyone knew this. But Odysseus knew what the lonely nights would be like, and he ached for the same fate to befall his Penelope. The dearest person to him, the deepest he’s ever loved, the joy of his life. All these applied to his son too, of course. But in a different way.

Do you think she jerked away from him then, shock and betrayal flashing through her eyes a moment until, coming back an instant later she took his head in her hands, her slender arms wrapping around her husband as she nuzzled deeply into his face and neck. Do you think her husband’s voice broke as he repeated this sentiment to the fierce shaking of his wife’s head as she emphatically retorted “no nO NO! Never, Odysseus, NEVER. You are ᾰ̓γᾰπητός. Most beloved.” And do you think that that’s when Penelope feels Odysseus let himself go, when he starts trembling and shaking and surrendering to the feeling of total wrongness and terror and despair at this entire situation. That Agamemnon’s delegation of men slept soundly downstairs, waiting to rip him away from his life for the next however many years of war there would be? And do you think then that Odysseus and Penelope clung to each other then, in the darkest recesses of the night, their desires and minds and hearts all tangled up together as one as they felt the fullness of each other’s love for the last time in twenty years?

And do you think that, twenty years later, far greyer and far more aged, that they sprang into that very same bed again, together, rejoicing and worshipping in the revelation of their reunion. Clinging to each other with the same longing as before, now tinged with the disbelieving ecstasy of one whose life had been over but now had just begun. Do you think that their lovemaking lasted long into the night and far into the morning? And do you think that more importantly than that they learned each other’s hearts and minds again while learning each other’s new bodies again with the same glee and abandon that they’d had when they were young and carefree.

Do you think every kiss after their reunion was as full of surprise and hope as their first had been, behind the great tree that they had eventually formed into their bed. Do you think that, blushing and stammering as children, they were shy with one another at first, until, as in the beginning, one of them cracked a joke or said a line that just set them off laughing…and then it was all as it had been before.

Do you think that they loved one another through it all?

Yes.

Yes, I really think they did.

#odypen #penelope #odysseus #odysseus x penelope #the odyssey #homer #true love #lovers

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thebroccolination · 1 month

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“IF NO ONE ACCEPTS YOU, YOU HAVE ME”

Lately I’ve seen the narrative around Krist shifting from “he’s homophobic” to “he was homophobic, but he got better :)” so!

Let’s go back to a moment in 2017 during a ceremony where Krist and Singto accepted an award from the Thai branch of the gay magazine Attitude (now defunct). That’s the magazine that published this photoshoot:

[Attitude, 2018, promoting SOTUS S] (they also did one in 2016 for SOTUS)

Krist said that a friend of his once came out to his parents, and the parents wouldn’t accept him, so Krist told his friend, “It’s okay. If no one accepts you, you have me, and I accept you for who you are.”

So, yes, Krist was hotheaded when people kept harassing him about his sexuality, but can anyone truly blame him? No one looks at all the times he answered politely. Just the one time he broke. [EDIT: I just spoke with someone who was there when the infamous IG story was posted, and they said: “Krist's tone and demeanour when he emphatically said "no" was like, y'know, still friendly. It's like when friends tease you relentlessly and you say ‘no’ more forcefully to get them to stop?” And that actually was my first impression of it back in 2020—a joke that landed badly. And it lines up with his first apology: that he felt badly because his answer was taken out of context.]

There are people today who film these guys at the urinal. Who treat them like property because of money and time spent on them. Who hire trucks to drive around their company building making demands. And it’s 2024. GMMTV has legal teams on this stuff now. But you and I can’t imagine what kind of invasiveness Krist and Singto went through in 2016 as one of the first pairs in the BL industry to gain overnight fame and rabid, unprecedented focus from millions. Of course he snapped. It’s widely known that fans and reporters target Krist over Singto to get information even today because Singto never gives anyone the satisfaction of a reaction, but Krist is a people-pleaser and truly struggles with saying no to people. He’s always been the emotional one, the one who overthinks, the one desperate to make people happy. And when fans wanted to force KristSingto to publicly say that they were secretly dating, fans thought they could get Krist to break first, and they were right. (Personally, I always thought the Instagram story was an exaggerated joke that was a barely veiled “drop it.” EDIT: I’m glad at least one person who was there at the time can corroborate this.)

Then interfans came along, marked him as an easy target, and maliciously miscast him as a bigot to wave after wave of new interfans who never bothered to research further after a random person on the internet told them he’s a homophobe.

Krist asked his parents for their blessing to audition for SOTUS when he was still a teenager. He was afraid of what they’d think, but because his parents are lovely people, they supported him. And they still do. Krist’s father has a running joke that he’ll let Krist marry Singto if Singto brings a durian for the dowry.

I never included Singto in my clarification thread because I knew how quickly people would dismiss anything with Singto as conniving, tricksy fanservice. But you really don’t know anything about Krist until you see him with people he considers his safe spaces. That includes people like Mike. Like Gawin. Godji. Oat. These people who love him because he’s earned it.

I know I talk about this a lot. But I won’t ignore it when people try to twist his character, especially with I see them making assumptions about the premise of Ex-Morning. All I believe is that he was angry and afraid and overwhelmed. Then he reacted, apologized, and learned how to handle the fame and the invasiveness better.

Please stop trying to claw marrow out of a past mirage.

#krist perawat #i’m just gonna post this now before ex-morning promo and kristsingto activities really get going #leave my son alone thank you

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thosewildcharms · 2 months

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i'll be thinking about 1x04 for the rest of my life probably, but currently i'm thinking about how genius it was that instead of the episode being about convincing rick to fight the CRM, as I originally thought it would be, it ended up being a battle to bring rick himself back to life. it's both rick and michonne fighting to revive a dead man who is doing anything he can to stay dead.

the show had already established that rick metaphorically killed himself and made okafor's mission his own instead of committing suicide and that from the moment she arrived he went into panic mode and was doing everything he could do put himself between her and the many threats aimed at her. like, we knew all of that going in.

and then this episode blows that wide open in the first, what, ten minutes? the CRM thinks they're dead. they can leave. and still, rick clings to okafor's mission. and in the hands of lesser writers, in the hands of any other production team who did not understand these characters as profoundly as danai and andy understand them, that's where it would have ended. rick would have genuinely been fully brainwashed and have been coming from a place of misplaced egotism, and they'd be having a very different fight. it would be rick insisting he had to fight the crm alone and michonne arguing that they can fight them together with nothing deeper than that going on.

but of course that's not it, because that's not rick grimes, and this is danai gurira's pen. he's not brainwashed, he's broken. he's so deeply and profoundly traumatized that clinging to this mission as a way of maintaining his own metaphorical death has become the last and strongest wall of his self-defense mechanism. and he spends the whole episode desperately trying to keep that wall up, and failing.

when he sees michonne's scar, he immediately looks for the PRB. because the physical proof of how much danger she will always be in reminds him of how much he can no longer bear to witness it. when michonne tells him about RJ, he asks her to give him the PRB and when he learns that RJ calls himself Little Brave Man, he doubles down on okafor's plan. because he can never lose another child (the way he lost carl twice) if he never knows or meets him in the first place. when michonne blows up about how scared and guilty she feels about not being with their kids he goes completely cold and blank and tells her to go back home. because if they're all out of sight and together they'll always be alive in his mind. because he's already dead, but they don't have to be. he becomes truly recognizable to michonne, to remain unmoved in the face of her pain like that.

and yet. he lasts about ten seconds before sprinting after when she leaves the room. he fusses over her when she can't stop coughing and refuses to leave her side when she's in danger. several times michonne checks in, to see if her rick is still there ("do you still love me?" "I just needed to hear you say it") and confirms that yes, he is. he's emphatic that he has never stopped loving her and never will, that she never has to thank him ever, for saving her life or for anything else. over and over, his love for her wins out even though he's trying so hard to keep that wall up. to remain dead so she will leave and keep living. he's trying to convince both her and himself that he's already gone, but always breaks at the last minute because the immediacy of seeing her right in front of him is more powerful than his own fear. tries to shut himself down, can't resist her, rinse and repeat.

and god, michonne. i've been yammering about the intensity of rick's love for michonne for weeks now, but michonne has done nothing but prove that she's right there with him, if not more. to reveal that rick is the only person who has ever made her feel safe, only to have him continually reject her and be a stone wall against her anger and pain and fear and confusion was so fucking heartbreaking to watch, and still she spends the whole episode banging and scratching and tearing at that wall around him, begging to understand why he's lying to her, why he's being so antithetical to the man she loves. and once she figures out that there's something else going on, that the rick she loves is undoubtedly still in there, she knows exactly what to do to save him. she forces him to say how much he loves her, how much he can't bear to actually let her leave him, so both of them can hear it and then reminds him of how he loves her. this woman spent a decade alone, afraid, raising their kids and facing horrible trauma herself, almost dies trying to find her husband only to meet a stranger once she does, and still does not give up on him. fucking incredible.

i said in a previous post that the only thing that could keep rick grimes from doing anything to get back to his family is a threat to their lives. and it's still true - his grief and trauma is so profound that even the nebulous threat of losing them is so horrifically terrifying to him that he's refusing to go home to them, keeping himself dead to protect himself from their possible deaths. but ultimately, michonne's love for him is even stronger than that. it took almost a decade for the CRM to break him, and michonne brings him back in a day. because the love they have for each other is more powerful than anything. as she says, it can't be denied.

it's honestly the most romantic hour of television i've ever watched. there's so much more that i can say that i haven't even touched on here, and i'm sure i'll be thinking about it for a very long time.

#richonne #the ones who live #i think it goes without saying that danai and andy's performances are fucking insane as well.#twd

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ambling-rambling · 2 years

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Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

C/W: honestly not much. Angst. Drunk reader. Softest of fluff

I started out intending to write drunk sex but ya sad bish needed something soft instead so have the first time Bucky Barnes hears I love you and the way it wrecks him.

Don't Leave Me

The two of you didn't actually fight that often, surprising as that was to some people. You supposed you couldn't blame them, what with the ex-Winter Soldier's perpetual frown and surly demeanor.

You knew better, though. He held people at arms length for a million different reasons, each as valid as the next, but the truth was, his core was all marshmallow fluff, soft and squishy.

In the six months that you'd been an official couple, you could count on one hand the number of times you'd so much as bickered. But this? This was different. A genuine fight, where you couldn't agree and neither was willing to compromise.

It was bad enough, his being gone on missions all the time, worrying about whether he'd come home at all, and what state he'd be in when he did. And now he was talking about some sabbatical back to Europe, trying to chase down memories and make some amends clear on the other side of the planet, indefinitely.

And it sure sounded like he didn't want you to come. Sure, his excuse had been that he didn't want to drag you away from your life, make you uproot everything. Part of you knew he didn't feel worthy of that kind of devotion, that he couldn't truly comprehend that he was your everything now.

But if still felt an awful lot like a rejection, and that stung.

Maybe that was why you'd gotten so drunk, just trying to ease the tightness in your chest, drown the ache in your soul with the burn of alcohol. It would have been bad enough on its own, but the fact that it was your first legitimate fight just made it that much worse.

So you'd gotten a little carried away, and Jaeger sure as shit did have a way of creeping up on you. You'd stumbled your way into the ladies' where you now sagged against a sink, though you'd forgotten to turn the water on.

"Honey, are you alright?" a voice startled you, and you spun, or tried to. You barely managed to keep yourself upright by clinging to the edge of the sink.

"Uhhhh..." Were you? Alright? What did that even mean? You weren't dying, but you felt like you were shattering into a million pieces. Surely that was just the alcohol talking, making everything extra dramatic. "No? " It came out a question, and the woman tutted softly. She was probably a little older than you, beautiful, and you found yourself half lost in the liquid brown of her eyes, hooded in deep gold eyeshadow, and the dreadlocks that framed her face.

"Can I call someone for you, honey?" she asked.

Call someone? Shit what a great idea! "Uhhh, my boyfriend," you said with a nod. "Er, well," you hedged, as the memories came flooding back in. "I think. We hadda fight." The words were slurred, and your new friend's eyes were sympathetic.

"Are you safe with him?"

Even drunk, you immediately understood the implications of what she was asking. "YES." Your response was so emphatic that she laughed a little. "We never fight like this," you said, pouting now, staring down at the toe of your tennis shoe. "Ever," you added, uncertain why you felt the need to add so much emphasis.

"Well, honey, why don't I call him for you? If he's got any brains in his head, he's probably missin' you just as much as you're missin' him."

You nodded, because Bucky definitely had brains, he was so smart, and beautiful and you just wanted to be with him always. Why did he have to make everything so fucking difficult?

Without really making a conscious decision, you unlocked your phone, open to your text conversation with Bucky. You hadn't even realized you had a slew of texts from him. It ran a course from appeasing,

I'm sorry, I just don't know what to tell you...

to irritated ,

Really? You're blowing me off?

to worried,

Okay well I deserve it. We don't have to talk but can you just answer so I know you're okay?

Y/n. Please. I'm really getting worried. I just wanna know you're alright.

You felt a little bad. You hadn't been blowing him off intentionally, you just hadn't been paying attention to your phone.

Your friend, god you really needed to ask her name, hit the dial button. Muffled through the speaker, you could nonetheless hear Bucky answer before the second ring, practically shouting your name.

"Sorry, my name's Meredith, but I've got y/n right here. She's fine, just pretty drunk. You should probably come pick her up."

There wasn't any hesitation in his promise to be there in a few minutes.

Meredith handed your phone back to you, and you tucked it away in your pocket, feeling a little guilty. You tried to stand up straight, annoyed with the way the world tilted and swayed under your feet.

"Easy there, honey. Let's go get you some water before your fella gets here."

You nod, because that seemed like a good idea. You clung to Meredith's arm as the two of you wound through the bar and the bartender handed you a glass of water. You sipped it carefully, uncertain if even that would settle. You had definitely never been this drunk before, and now that it was setting in you felt a little childish and stupid.

You heard your name and half turned. The sight of Bucky there, beautiful as ever in that leather jacket and his gloves, made you want to weep, and you sniffled.

"I was worried about you, doll," Bucky said gently, brushing one leather-clad thumb along your cheek bone.

You wanted to be mad at him, but the genuine concern in those blue eyes and the way he was hanging back, not pushing you, just made you want to fall into him.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, not looking at him. "I wasn't tryna make y'worry." The words came out slurred and you felt petulant and nauseous and why was everything such a mess?

"You good now?" Meredith asked, drawing your gaze. You nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay," you said.

"Thank you," Bucky said softly, extending a hand to Meredith. "Genuinely. I'm glad she found you and not..." he trailed off with a helpless shrug, and it wasn't a leap to know he'd been thinking about all the creeps out there who'd love to take advantage of a drunk and vulnerable woman.

"Nothin' to thank me for. Us girls gotta stick together," Meredith said with a grin. She gave your hand a little squeeze, and then disappeared into the crowd.

Bucky sighed, turning to look at you again, ducking his head to try and catch your eye. "C'mon doll, you still so mad you can't even look at me?" he asked, with a little note of frustration creeping into his tone.

You shook your head. "Not that. I just feel...Dumb." Suddenly you were crying and you couldn't even really articulate why. Bucky looked panicked, jerking the glove off his right hand to cradle your face, applying pressure to encourage you to look up without forcing you.

"What? Why? You're not dumb, y/n..." Bucky looked perplexed, worried still as you sniffled again, scrubbing at your leaking eyes.

"You still w-want me right?" The words came out slurred and choked, and you were suddenly clinging to him, clutching at his biceps. The world was unsteady under you and you just wanted to be in bed, wrapped up with him, safe and wanted.

Bucky looked genuinely shocked. "What...y/n, of course I do. You're all I want. Why would you think otherwise?"

He was so confused you almost laughed. It was so obvious to you.

"But you d-don't want me to come to Europe with you," you pointed out, your voice a drunken whine.

"I don't...y/n, I don't want to go without you," you could see he was struggling to articulate himself, the way words so often came as a fight, caught up in his head. "I just don't feel like I can ask you to walk away from your life..."

"You're not asking! I'm offering!" you interrupted, your voice a little too high, a little too loud, even to your own ears.

Bucky looked... Inexplicably sad. He stepped a little closer, so his body was pressed to yours, bare hand cradling your cheek. "I ain't worth it, doll. And I don't want you to be an ocean away from home and not another friend in sight when you figure that out." .

You felt like you were choking. Oh, or maybe that was just the alcohol in your stomach revolting. Bucky must have read the expression on your face, because he wrapped an arm around your waist, mostly carrying you toward the door. "C'mon, let's get outside," he said.

The cold air hit you like an Arctic front, had goosebumps prickling all over your skin and a shiver running up your spine. But it served to still the boiling mess in your stomach. You knew you were drunk, that he'd probably convince himself it was just the alcohol, but you had to try.

"Please baby," you whined, clutching at him. "I don't wanna be here without you. I just wanna be with you , always. You are worth it to me." Your voice cracked when you begged "don't leave me here."

"I'm not leaving you anywhere, doll. Let's go home," he murmured. You nodded, slumping into Bucky's arms, content to let him carry you to the car.

You didn't even remember getting home, just waking up in bed, a little panicked, launching yourself toward the bathroom, your stomach revolting against the ill treatment of the night before. Bucky was there within moments, sweeping your hair back out of your face, palm smoothing down your back.

You slumped to the floor when your stomach finally settled, cool tile heavenly against your heated skin. "I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"For what?" Bucky asked, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Getting so trashed that you had to come get me. Being so extra and now...this," your lip curled in distaste as you waved a hand at the porcelain throne.

Bucky 's lips quirked in that ghost of a smile that was his most common expression of pleasure or amusement. "That's nothin' to apologize for, doll," he said dismissively.

"Shower with me?" you asked, and Bucky nodded, starting the water before helping you to your feet. You shucked out of your clothes and ducked into the shower with a low groan of relief, only too eager to wash the night off your skin. Bucky followed you in, and his hands skimmed tenderly across your body, helping you rinse off, his nose nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

You lingered like that, for too long, really. It would have been easy, so easy, to just stay like that, pretend nothing had happened, but you couldn't.

"Bucky?" you whispered, voice rough and more than a little hesitant.

"Yeah, doll?" he asked, without lifting his head, voice muffled against your skin.

"I...I meant what I said last night. I know I was drunk, but it was still the truth. I don't... I don't wanna be here without you. I don't care where you're going, if it's anywhere even sort of long term, I wanna go. I'll go anywhere Buck, just .. please don't leave me here. Don't go without me."

He drew back, cradling your face, his expression a study in internal wars, looking both miserable and infatuated. "I just don't want you bored over there, by yourself..."

"I wouldn't be by myself," you interrupted. "I'd be with you and that's all I want."

You could practically see that self deprecating smile even before it painted his lips. "That's not all you want, doll," Bucky argued, and you felt yourself huff out an irritated breath. "You have a job that you really love and friends you love going out with, not to mention the cat..."

You sighed. "All those things will be here whenever you've done what you need to. Or I'll meet new people and make new friends. People do it all the time, Buck. Mallory would take Alpine for a while if I asked her."

Whatever argument he was about to pop off with now, you silenced it, pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop telling me what I want or don't want, Buck. I just want you. I love you."

You watched the emotions play across his face like he was a projection onto a movie screen. Incomprehension, and then disbelief, giving way to awe, and then something so, so soft it had his eyes welling up with tears.

He was searching your face, as if trying to sniff out a lie, and then abruptly, his gaze jerked down, swallowing hard. You'd been together a while, slept together, built routines that were comfortable, that he adored, but neither of you had ever broached the "l" word and he hadn't let himself believe you were building something like a life together, something lasting and permanent.

"Really?" he asked weakly.

His surprise broke you. All this time, it had been clear to you, that this was something permanent, that you were building patterns you wanted to live the rest of your life in, a comfortable place to rest and be at home. Meanwhile, he'd been holding himself apart, waiting for his fantasy to end.

"Oh, Bucky," you whispered, felt yourself choking up against your will. "Yeah, I love you , so much, baby. I'm sorry I didn't say it sooner, that I ever made you wonder. I love you, Bucky Barnes, completely and irrevocably."

The arms he wrapped around you were all encompassing, squeezing you tight, with a hint of trembling. "I love you too, doll. So much." His voice was rough with emotion as he clung to you, and you clung right back, arms wrapped tight around his waist, lost in the touch so long that the water started to run cold. You whined as you hurried to wash your hair before it turned to ice and then crawled out.

Wrapped in a towel, you pressed yourself in against Bucky's side. "Does this mean you'll take me to Europe?"

Bucky almost snorted as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. "Let's be real, I wouldn't have lasted a week without you anyways."

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction

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scarletttries · 1 year

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How Succession Characters would react to getting you pregnant...

Pairings: Kendall Roy x Reader, Roman Roy x Reader, Tom Wambsgans x Reader, Greg Hirsch x Reader, Lucas Mattson x Reader, Stewy Hosseini x Reader

Author's note: Thank you for this fun request! Here is a little bit of thoughts on how a bunch of the Succession characters would react to finding out their partner (the reader) is pregnant ☺️

Kendall Roy

This man has had the importance of succession literally bred into him. His struggles with infertility and trying to be the kind of father he wishes he could be have taken a toll on poor Kendall, making him feel like he'll never have the family he's always wished for. That starts to ease when the two of you get together, slowly coming around to the idea that maybe he doesn't need anything else as long as he has you. But when your period is late, expect Kendall to notice, always keeping track of your body in the back of his mind in a way he just can't help but obsess over. He daren't say anything, certain that in the next week it will turn out to be nothing, his body once again failing to deliver him what he craves so much.

A few days later when you bring him lunch at the office he's all but pushed that hopeful thought out of his head until you present him a carefully wrapped box, inside of which sit a dozen positive pregnancy tests. He's in complete disbelief at first, eyes welling up and repeatedly asking if you're sure, and more uncomfortably for him, if it's definitely his. Once you've suitably convinced him of both of those facts, you'll get full, smiling, happy Kendall, scooping you into his arms and telling you exactly how 'fucking excited he is' loud enough that by 2pm that day everyone in the Waystar office has heard the news.

While you're pregnant Kendall can't stop telling everyone that the two of you are expecting, overflowing with pride and joy and love for your growing family. He's the kind of person to fly in the best midwife/doula/doctor in the world to make sure everything goes exactly to plan, making sure you don't have to lift a finger for the whole nine months. He'd also be an absolute menace for not being able to keep his hands off you, the way you glow as you start showing driving his little brain insane, wanting more than anything to just put baby after baby inside you.

Finally when the baby comes expect Kendall to be there. Yes he'll have a few wobbles and won't be perfect, the reality of his experience of fatherhood making him doubt he'll do anything good enough for this baby, but every time he sees the two of you, he knows he needs to step up and do whatever it takes for his little family, now that he finally has what he's been dreaming of.

Roman Roy

It's taken a long time for Roman just to get comfortable being intimate with you, a slow but not unpleasant journey that the two of you have been on since he first fell embarrassingly hard for you while working at Waystar. Given the months of longing looks and lingering touches it took to get to your first kiss, you never really thought about needing to use protection with Roman, until one particularly special night he finally wanted to try 'the whole thing' with you, surprised and delighted at how perfect it felt take make love to someone he truly cared for, allowing himself to be vulnerable in every way with you. As if wanting to make up for lost time, that night would lead to a real Honeymoon phase of Roman not being able to keep his hands off you, desperate to feel that incredible connection again and again.

You can hardly feel too surprised as the nurse confirms your suspicion, a follow up appointment made and a heavy piece of news on your shoulders as you ride silently in the town-car back to yours and Roman's home. He's his usual ball of emphatic energy as you step through the door, bounding up to you before stopping in his tracks at the clear weight on your chest. The words spill out before you can overthink it, watching carefully as you watch him process it all, slinking down to the floor and sitting cross-legged in silence as he contemplates. Roman had never planned to have a child, not ever expecting to find someone like you to share his life with, and he didn't exactly have the best relationship with the concept of fatherhood, a chill running down his spine at the thought of Logan ever laying a hand on his kid. Then a realisation began to calm him; that he was nothing like his father. And while he wouldn't be perfect, his immature brain sure to make mistakes along the way, he knew he would always make his child feel safe, something he wished someone had done for him all those years ago. So then he'd smile, and pull you down to the floor with him, and laugh his teary-eyed hyena laugh, and wrap you in his arms, protecting all three of you for the next chapter of your lives.

It's safe to say his family would be extremely surprised by the announcement, particularly Logan, who'd rejoice in a way that made Roman feel even more sure that he'd never be that kind of cruel, manipulative father that only wanted his children for what they could do for him. Throughout the pregnancy Roman would be up and down, jubilant and terrified, proud and ashamed, the whole thing trudging up more than its fair share of childhood trauma. But when it comes down to it, he'll be there to step up, immediately swearing to do whatever it takes to make sure your little one never feels the way he spent his life feeling.

Tom Wambsgans

Despite all the venom and acid that burned him in his first marriage (this one's for you team Tomshiv divorce), Tom is peak fatherhood material. You only have to look at the intensely caring way he talks about Mondale, the bizarre energy he's put into raising Greg, and of course, his absolute undying affections for you, to know this man would coddle a child like no one's business. You wouldn't even be scared to tell him, the news unplanned but certainly not unpleasant, the way this man fucks like a freight train clearly no match for the average condom.

You'd make an event of it, ordering balloons and cake and flowers to your shared duplex, so when he got home to a sea of congratulations there would be no doubt. A midwest man through and through, if you weren't already married he'd buy you a ring the very next day, the floods of happy tears stopping long enough to let him pick a perfect diamond. He'd spend half the week on the phone telling everyone he knows, so excited to grow your little family, and be the kind of man he'd been raised to be. He's definitely type to read an unhelpful number of articles to make sure he's doing everything he can 'to serve you and your growing child during this strenuous time', calling his mother to fly across the states to help out as you get closer to your due date. This man already has a short-list of the best preschools in New York by the time your bundle of joy comes in the world, ready to be a present father and husband, even if it means for once his career has to take a backseat.

Greg Hirsch

You had worked very very hard to make it crystal clear to Greg that whatever happened between the two of you was strictly on a casual basis, not wanting to get drawn into his complex family dynamics, or end up the centre of ATN news story. Despite his clear infatuation he had agreed, following every boundary and rule you set out to the best of his slightly clueless abilities. So when you triple checked the calendar and realised what had happened, you couldn't help but lock yourself in the Waystar women's bathroom and scream enough curses to make Kendall Roy blush. After deciding this was something you wanted, you'd finally let Greg buy you dinner, surprised by the calibre of restaurant he picked for what was really just a first date.

When you tell him the news, and make it clear you don't expect anything from him, you'd be pleasantly surprised by how loudly and excitedly he proclaims "that he loves kids!" earning a few uncomfortable looks from the tables around you. He'd be stressed and feel unprepared for sure, but he wanted more of a relationship with you and this was going to put that on the cards for him, plus he'd always wanted a family of his own so he couldn't wait to tell 'Uncle Tom and Great Grandpa Ewen' the news.

Realistically he'd be quite a useless partner, buying you your favourite sushi without realising you can't have it, and wanting to throw a party in your favourite bar to celebrate, forgetting you can't drink, but the thought would always be there. And if you need anything done, he's ready and waiting, even if he needs the clearest possible instructions and will end up having to call you for more information anyway. No matter how much trouble it gets him in with work/Tom he'd be at every appointment, proud to have a reason to pull himself together and excited to be a grown up, if it means being one by your side. Once you have your baby, he'd 100% bring them into the office, showing them around Waystar and being shocked at anyone implying its not appropriate to bring your baby to work, having Tom back him that it's important for all the Roy family to be there together.

Stewy Hosseini

Coming from the happiest family in the Succession universe, Stewy's often thought about having a family of his own, but his lifestyle of late nights and kissing boys on Molly means it's not something that he's ever really applied himself to pursuing. So when the two of you start dating he takes it seriously; he can tell he could have a real future with you, the type of warm, intelligent, kind person he's always wanted to find and settle down with. It wouldn't be long until you were introduced to his parents, watching over his nieces and nephews together and giving Stewy no choice but to pray you'll be the mother of his children. He'd want to go through the traditional order of things, getting married and building a home together before you started to grow your family, but when a happy night of too much rose in the hot tub on his balcony leads to a positive pregnancy test, he'd be absolutely elated. He'd call in every favour he was owed across the city to get your dream wedding together within a month, dragging you round viewings of townhouses with little gardens he immediately describes as 'perfect for the little one.'

Stewy would still respect your independence though, making his hopes and preferences known, but ultimately letting you call all the shots, just a helping hand and credit card to make whatever you're dreaming of come true. He's less protective than some of the others, but only because he knows you're tough as nails now and always, not wanting you to feels smothered and wrapped in bubble-wrap, still making sweet plans for just the two of you before and after the baby comes. Stewy would be such a happy and excited father, truly just a joy to be around.

Lukas Mattson (warning: darker themes, reader discretion advised)

Even just being seduced by Mattson would feel a little bit unsettling; uncertain of exactly how much of what he said he really meant, and what was all just charm and bravado that seemed to effortlessly ooze out of him. So when he insists that you don't need protection, or says he'll pull out but always does it a moment too late, you don't realise what he's up to until it's too late. You see from the moment Lucas met you, he knew you had to be his, and the easiest way to tie your lives together forever is to get you pregnant.

He'd pretend to be shocked by the news, like he hadn't worked night and day to baby-trap you, asking you sincerely if you want to keep it, and telling you you'd want for absolutely nothing if you just let him look after the two of you. He says it so sweetly, so sincerely, hovering his shaking hand just shy of your stomach and looking down at you with nothing but awestruck affection in his eyes that you can't help but fall for him, this image of devotion exactly what you want for your future. And as you say you want to keep it, and have your family with him, he'll fall to his knees and tear up, his whole life feeling like it lead to this moment, a child to make the best future he can for.

He'll throw himself into his work for a lot of your pregnancy, a new perspective on his work with AI, tinkering with the latest baby tech to make sure you two have everything you could possibly want to help you with this stage of your lives. You'll grow slightly more used to his intensity as he points it in a helpful direction, worshipping the ground you walk on and trying desperately to make everything as good as it can be for your little family.

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drama-glob · 6 months

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I know I made a similar GIF, but I made this one to really focus on how although Fizz and Ozzie are both saying "I love you" and clearly enjoying the hug, I really appreciate Ozzie's movements with how he says his line. He just seems so unbelievably grateful/appreciative here to have Fizz's love as he takes the embrace and words in, to which he wholeheartedly reciprocates the love right back as he slowly and emphatically says "And I love you too, Fizzarolli;" it's like how this moment (and other times like this) feels so wonderful to him and shows how Fizz is what he truly desires most. ^_^<3<3<3 It just makes me further think that Fizz is Ozzie's first love as it seems like this is something he's never felt before and doesn't know if it will come again, so he wants to treasure every second of it. ^_^<3<3<3

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

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Death Becomes Us//Part 2: When Doves Cry vampire!Eddie x supernatural!fem!Reader//True Blood AU

⚠️18+Only pls⚠️ adult themes, blood, drinking blood, enemies to lovers, eventual smut, violence, reader and vampire!Eddie both get physically hurt--but they end up okay, talk of needles, alcohol consumption, talk of addiction, mention of sex, sanguivoriphobia, talk of the supernatural, death. Word Count: 6.7k

Series Masterlist

Summary: You start your first day at Main Vein, the vampire/human crossover bar owned by Bob Newby, flanked by vampire!bartender!Argyle and you learn what a risk humans can be to vampires as you begin to navigate their world. You and Eddie have to rescue each other as you're forced to share an intimate exchange that brings you irrevocably close. Playlist

Important words/phrases for this chapter: Fanger (derogatory term for vampires) Fang Banger (derogatory term for people who like to be bitten by vampires during sex) Sanguivoriphobia (fear of vampires)

✂️

If you are in the group of people who are familiar with True Blood, parts of this chapter will feel familiar. I won't be sticking to the storyline of the show religiously, but there are so many clever elements I wanted to incorporate. Please read the warnings above, as some of the things mentioned in this chapter might not be for everyone. ❤️

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Death Becomes Us Part 2: When Doves Cry

For years, you tried to cover your scars up with makeup, but then they ended up looking lumpy and odd, and it made people stare even harder trying to figure out what was under the heavy layers of foundation and powder. You’d never met anyone like you before, and it made you feel a type of deep loneliness that you never talked about because you knew no one would understand.

You’d left some tuna on your porch for Dio before you went to bed, and you were pleased to find the saucer licked clean when you left your trailer the next day. You could tell that she was well fed and that your nasty vampire neighbor was taking good care of her, but you wanted to reward her for proving to Eddie that she did, indeed, like someone other than him.

The white BMW was gone, and the old van was back, parked next to Eddie’s trailer. You were more curious and interested in whatever he was up to than you should be, considering you wanted nothing to do with him.

It was still daylight out when you rolled up early to Main Vein, and Bob got you to work writing out the specials on a sandwich board in your best handwriting, to hopefully attract customers in as they strolled by on the sidewalk. You shadowed Bob as he taught you the basics of tending bar while a couple humans (also known as “breeders” in the vampire world, because vampires, of course, could not procreate) came in for a few simple beers, and one guy ordered a jack and coke.

As a child, you were always an emphatic soul; you could tell what a person was feeling, even if they told you with their words that they were feeling something else. It was a trauma response to surviving in the emotional chaos you grew up in. Now, since the accident, you could read human emotions and intentions with ten times the intensity.

Vampires, on the other hand, were impervious to your gift—or, curse, as you often referred to it.

For instance, you could tell that Bob Newby had a heart of gold; his enthusiasm was not a fake front to hide dark intentions. He truly loved his vampire girlfriend, whom you had yet to meet, and he harbored nothing but the best intentions in the brainstorming of his human/vampire crossover bar Main Vein. He believed that vampires were good people who just happened to be dead, and that we were all equals, despite the fact that they were stronger, faster, immortal, and subsided on blood alone.

You were behind the bar, concentrating on putting the exact amount of alcohol in a drink that the recipe card in front of you called for, when Argyle slid in next to you and bumped your arm. His skin felt like ice.

“Careful!” He snickered. “Don’t spill any,” but half of the liquid had already dripped down your fingers. Since you couldn’t get a read on vampire’s emotions, it was a relief for you to be around them. Feeling other people’s emotions often meant that you had to experience them, and that was not to your benefit in many cases. Being around crowds of people sapped your energy in a way you still struggled to recover from.

Argyle wore his black hair straight and parted down the middle; it was shiny and soft and you wanted to touch it. He had on a colorful, button down shirt, and a blue visor that said Main Vein on it. He nodded at what you were working on, wiggling his eyebrows. “Whadda we got going on here?”

You sighed and told him what the customer ordered. Argyle smiled and waved you off. “I got this, foxy dudette. Let the master take over,” he cracked his knuckles and interlaced his fingers, flexing his palms out before he brought things from the under bar at lightning speed.

You were more than happy to shove off and get to the group at the front waiting to be seated.

When you were half way there with menus tucked under your arm, you realized that this group was mean and anxious and desperate; a combination that made alarms go off inside of you as your skin exploded in a wash of goosebumps.

They were nice enough to your face, though. It was a woman with two men, all dressed in denim and plaid; one of the men had an American flag on the front of his t-shirt. The other one had his greasy hair squished under a trucker cap, and two missing teeth in front. The redhead woman wore an Ed Hardy tube top under her flannel, and she was pretty in a whiskey and Marlboro reds kind of way. Her smile was big and gracious as she smacked her green gum, and they followed you to a booth.

They ordered a round of beers with potato skins from the appetizer menu, and just as you excused yourself to give their order to Bob in the kitchen, the woman grabbed your wrist.

You squeezed your eyes closed until you could calm the surge that went through your body when you felt threatened, waiting for the fire behind your eyes to settle before you met her gaze again.

“Sorry, darlin’ but this is a bar for vampires, too, right?” She was bent forward, whispering to you, her pupils tightly pinned in her dusty blue eyes. There was a faded, long stem rose tattoo on her white freckled forearm.

“Um, yes,” you looked around. “Will there be more with your party? Should I bring over a menu with our plasma options?”

The two men chuckled across the table at each other as if you’d just made a joke.

“That’s okay, baby,” the woman said sweetly, releasing your arm. “But, are there any vampires in here right now? Me and the boys were just hoping to see one up close, is all.”

You thought about what they were asking you, and the fact that their emoting of desperation was getting stronger, and decided not to point Argyle out to them. They’d eventually figure that one out for themselves because he loved to show his teeth. “I’m not really sure,” you lied with a shrug. “I never can tell the difference.”

The woman frowned and turned back to the two men as they started to discuss something.

The other waitress, a human named Erica Sinclair, tucked her Main Vein t-shirt into her shorts as she joined you on the floor, rolling her eyes. Bob introduced the two of you in a rush as he flipped a burger, and Erica gave you a bored look, but her gaze did not linger on your your scars like most. “You’re new here, right? You’re smiling, so you must be. Nothing much to smile about around here.”

You told her you’d only been in town a few days as you grabbed a second round of beers for the table that had been asking about vampires. You weren’t paying too much attention when the front door opened, but then some of the other customers seemed to still, conversations coming to a halt, and Erica’s attention shifted over your shoulder, eyes narrowing.

The song When Doves Cry by Prince was playing on the stereo system as you turned on your heel to witness your neighbor Eddie step across the threshold with ease; one initial invitation was all that was needed, apparantly. According to Bob, invitations could also be reversed if necessary. It was the couple waiting behind Eddie for their invitation that alerted everyone to the presence of something supernatural.

The two behind him could’ve easily passed as “regular” mortals. They had a very mom and pop look about them; she was a brunette in a floral dress and he was in trousers, a dark blue button down, and had a receding hairline. She clutched her white handbag at her stomach, and the man with her had his hand at her back, coaxing her in.

Eddie pretended not to see you there as he cupped a hand to light his cigarette and made his way over to the bar to take his normal seat at the end to order a Fang Tang, not even giving a second glance to the vampires stuck outside. Maybe they weren’t his friends? Not all vampires were friends, surely, as you were not close with all humans.

Bob would’ve been the first to greet them and welcome them in, but he was knee deep in the kitchen, wearing his “Bob the Brain” custom embroidered apron, and when you turned to Erica, she shook her head. “I’m not a fan of the Fangers myself. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to this new world.”

Your eyes snapped to Argyle, but he was busy at the other end of the bar doing a Tom Cruise juggling act with the booze to impress two of the local Fang Bangers.

So you straitened your shirt, squared your shoulders, and made your way over to greet them.

Meanwhile, the redhead woman with the rose tattoo on her arm and the two men with her were hyper focused on the new arrivals; you could feel the cold, wet tug of some kind of rot in their veins, surging though them and clouding their rational thoughts.

At the time, you did not know that there was an underground market for vampire blood, not only for its healing properties, but the euphoric high and transcendent experience it gifted the user. It enhanced sexual performance and gave humans the mental prowess of superhuman strength. Needless to say, it was a highly prized commodity; expensive and addictive.

Hunched at the bar in his leather and battle vest, and a handkerchief hanging from his back pocket, Eddie appeared to be ignoring you as you walked to greet the newcomers. You had never professionally invited a vampire in before, so you might have overcompensated with how cheerful your tone was. “Welcome to Main Vein,” you plastered a smile across your face. “Please enter and follow me. I will show you to your seat,” you also added a slight bow and extension of your arm like you were back in theater class again.

They stepped inside with a swoosh—a sound like they were breaking some invisible barrier you couldn’t see. They asked for a booth, and the only one out of the five that was available happened behind the party that was eager to see vampires up close: now they would get their chance. This vampire couple was not at all what you envisioned when people talked of “bloodsuckers from hell”. They seemed grateful to be able to come out to a bar with regular people---perhaps it reminded them of the human lives they’d once lived.

The guy in the trucker hat with two missing teeth turned around in his seat to get a better look as they sat and you offered them the plasma menus. You explained the different categories for synthetic blood, and how each offered the same taste and nutrients as real human blood. They offered replicas of a whole range of blood types, for those vampires with discerning palettes. You frowned at the guy in the trucker hat to make him turn back around and take his seat.

On your way back to the kitchen, Erica caught you by the elbow, her eyes wide. “What did they say to you?”

“They just wanted menus,” you said with a shrug, glancing over your shoulder at the couple in question. “I don’t think they’re all as bad as they seem on the news.”

“Oh, believe me,” She gave you a dire look. “They are evil. Don’t let the Laura Ashley dress and the Newport loafers fool you.” Truly, Erica had not yet properly met more than a handful of vampires in her life, she’d only heard the rumors.

“Have you ever met one?” You asked, assuming that she’d known plenty.

“I’ve met enough of them,” she promised, hands on her hips, and then she gestured to your neighbor at the end of the bar. “I know Eddie. But that’s only because I met him...before the change. And I’m forced to be around Argyle because I work here.”

When Erica walked off, you made the mistake of glancing over at the Eddie in question, and he tried to lower his eyes to his synthetic blood beverage as if he hadn't been watching you.

Argyle was working a metal cocktail shaker over his shoulder when you came back to the bar, and he nudged his chin at you. “What’s up with the freaks?” He asked, referring to the redhead with the rose tattoo and the two beefy men with her. He filled two martini glasses with a dark red concoction and trimmed each with a tiny pink flower.

You leaned forward a bit so you wouldn’t have to yell, tilting your head. “They specifically asked if there were any vampires here tonight,” you glanced over at Eddie again, but he was engrossed in something he was doodling on a napkin. “Do you think they’re tourists?”

“Nah,” Argyle wiped his hands on the rag at his waist, eyeing the table in question. “That’s Angie Klemp and her inbred brothers. They’ve been around forever.”

You could tell by his expression that he was weary of them, and you knew that he had excellent hearing which probably allowed him to listen in on some of what they were saying as they huddled together at their booth.

Wanting to change the subject, Argyle winked at you. “You’re doing a rad job, surfer girl. These are for the vampire couple that just sat down,” he pushed the two martini glasses toward you. “It’s our signature synthetic blood cocktail. Tell them it’s on the house.”

As the night picked up a bit, you took an order to the wrong table and fumbled a glass that shattered behind the bar. While you were cleaning that up, and mumbling apologies to Argyle, a woman wearing glasses and her honey-streaked brown hair in a bob took a seat at the small table by the window. Erica had a tray of drinks in her hand, so you dumped a dustpan full of glass in the trash and went over to wait on the new guest.

“Do I know you?” You asked as you took your pad and pen out to take her order.

She clamped her top teeth over her bottom lip, tucking hair behind her ear, shyly. “I own the bookstore down the street,” she answered. “You were in earlier, but I never got a chance to introduce myself.”

Of course, it came to you almost as quickly as she said it. You’d been so early for work that you took a walk around the block and ended up wandering into the quaint bookshop on the corner with the wind chimes made from seashells in the window. You had mentioned to her as you purchased a used paperback that you were starting work that day.

“The bookstore with the cats,” you grinned, pointing your pen at her. There had, indeed, been two resident cats in the shop, lazily draped over their carpeted perches in the sun, and sleepy, cream colored bigger dog behind the front counter.

“That’s the one,” she nodded, and then she stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “I’m Robin, in case you ever come back in, you can ask for me,” that seemed to fluster her and she shook her head. “You don’t have to ask for me, I’m usually there, but if you ever come by again, that would be nice.” Her cheeks got pink as she fumbled for the glass of ice water in front of her and took a sip.

You met her eyes and told her that you be back in soon to finish the series you were reading, and then she ordered a glass of wine with her salad. You could tell her heart was racing. She was nervous and excited to see you, as if maybe she’d had to give herself a pep talk before she came in. You noticed there was a certain warmth about her that wasn’t present in other humans. Whereas vampires were abnormally cold; Robin was pumping off heat like she had a temperature, and you were instantly fascinated by her.

----------

A bit later in the evening, Eddie said his goodbyes to Argyle, and you took casual note of his departure out of the corner of your eye while you bussed a table.

What you also noticed was the way Angie Klemp and her brothers paid quickly, and got up to follow Eddie out only a minute behind him. They’d had 6 beers and just as many tequila shots between them, and you got the feeling that they were up to no good. The two men were tapping their knees under the table, and scratching their necks and hands as if being actively attacked by ants.

The pulses of emotional electricity coming off of them instantly made your pores on your scalp blossom with sweat at how panicked they were; how hell bent. But again, what would they want with Eddie? To take their picture with him? That was a common tourist occurrence in Hawkins. But, the tourists in question usually preferred the subject to look like a stereotypical vampire; maybe wearing a cape, or dressed like Elvira. As far as you could tell, vampires usually kept with the same style they had when they were turned.

Eddie did naturally have that “vampire” look, though. He was a loner, he wore all black, he had spooky tattoos, and that long dark hair framing his pale face.

You were refilling someone’s water when you overheard Erica tell a guy at the bar to stop staring at her ass before she stabbed his eyes out with her pen, and it made you chuckle, mostly because you knew she wasn’t bluffing.

Ten minutes or so later, you were grabbing napkins from the storeroom in the back hall when you heard high pitched voices, screaming at each other from the alleyway parking lot. You hesitated with your hand on the shelf, wondering if it was just two people arguing and probably none of your business, but then you heard another scream, and decided to crack the door and peek out.

You had to scan the area at first, but then your eyes widened as they took in what was happening: against the brick wall of the next building, in a parking space between two cars, your neighbor Eddie was on the ground, his neck and wrists wrapped in silver chain, pinning him to the ground. You gasped and swallowed as you saw the steam rise up from where the silver was burning his flesh, his mouth set in a grimace.

Angie Klemp made fast work of jabbing a needle into the crease of each of his elbows draining his blood through tubing into clear bags. The brother in the American flag shirt paced at Eddie’s feet, barely able to contain his need for the drug, and the other one with two missing teeth kicked Eddie in the leg and then spat on him. “Yeah? Whadda ya think about that? Not so tough now, are you, Fanger?”

You stepped inside only to grab the fire extinguisher off the wall before heading back out, careful not to make any noise as the door shut. You tip toed around so that you were hidden behind the van next to them.

Angie seemed to be doing all the work, jerking the port out to fill another bag on the filthy pavement. “Goddamn it, I knew we should’ve taken him home first. This is risky as hell.”

“There’s no time for that!” The brother with two missing teeth took his hat off and scratched his head viciously. “I need some of the blood now, can’t I just have a little bit?”

Angie threw him a disgusted look. “You’re a fuckin’ addict, Clyde. How are we supposed to make money on this shit if you drink up all the profits? Get your shit together!”

You peeked your head out from behind the van, and Eddie saw you. His eyes were black and his fangs were out, but the silver had him rendered completely incapacitated. You could only imagine that the amount of blood they were taking was also making him weak.

You lifted up the fire extinguisher to let him know you were coming to his rescue, but he shook his head, trying to warn you off.

The two beefy men were too caught up in the throws of withdrawals and had their backs to you as you came up behind them. With a mighty heave, you cracked one in the back of the head with the big metal canister, and then when the other one turned around, you sprayed him in the face with the foam that comes out of the nozzle, blinding him. He clapped his hand to his face, yowling, and tripped himself on his own feet, going down hard.

Angie slowly stood, realizing that both men were on the ground, dazed, and she gave you a nasty snarl. “Why, you stupid, cut face whore,” she bit out just before she lunged at you.

You were about to swing the canister at her face when, from out of nowhere, a huge, boxy, beige pit bull terrier lunged from the darkness, barking and growling at Angie, barring its teeth, forcing her to back up. You looked down, a bit shocked: you’d never seen that dog before in your life. Would it attack you next? Hesitant, you let the dog move between the two of you, protectively, as it curled its lip and growled.

You pointed the nozzle at the woman. “Try us, bitch.”

The pit bull started barking a loud alarm that would soon have people coming to see what the hell was going on. Angie clenched her hands in the air as if she wanted to wring your neck, and then she was shouting for the two stumbling men to get in the truck.

“Go, go, go, you dickheads,” Angie demanded, grabbing the one covered in white goo by the collar, dragging him along.

The one with the crack to his skull was bleeding down the side of his head. “But what about the blood? Let’s take the blood!”

You and your new, aggressive pit bull friend stepped in front of Eddie, your weapon ready. “Don’t even think about it, fucker.”

You waited for them to pile in the truck and speed away before you dropped the fire extinguisher to the ground with a thunk and got on your knees next to Eddie, bits of gravel cutting into your shin.

The pit bull licked your cheek and stood guard next to you, looking from you to Eddie as if it understood everything that was going on, head tilting every so often. You were too concerned with how the silver was sizzling on his skin like bacon on a frying pan to wonder about your new companion. There were still needles in his arms and you slipped them out, cringing as you did so. You watched in awe as the hole marks in his arms disappeared and healed right before your very eyes.

“Can you move?” You asked him.

Eddie could barely talk, the pain of the silver was so excruciating. That, and he was extremely low functioning after so much blood loss. If those three had wanted to end him, they very well could have. He wondered how many vampires they had trapped and drained over the past few years.

He managed a scratchy, whispered, “no. It’s...the silver…”

With a gulp, you went to work unwrapping the chain from his neck and then his wrists, peeling layers of skin with it. He was an immortal vampire, but you could only imagine how much it must hurt, and yet, he hadn’t even made whimper.

His eyes never left you as you worked on him so diligently, your brows knitted together with focused determination. His neck was kinked forward, as his head and shoulders were propped up against the brick wall.

Unwrapping the last coil from around his wrist, you noticed that the wounds were staying the same, and you met his eyes. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I’m too weak right now,” his eyes flicked away from you. “I won’t be able to heal until I feed.”

At that, the pit bull whined, and took its cue to turn and disappear back into the night.

You looked over your shoulder at the door to Main Vein. “Would synthetic blood work?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head once, rolling it against the wall. “Has to be...human,” he breathed, bangs sticking to his clammy forehead.

His once rosy lips were pale and the mangled wounds left from the silver made you feel bad for him, even though you weren’t even sure if you liked him.

“What if I just left you here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “Would you die?”

The corners of his mouth stuck together as he talked. “If I don’t feed soon, I won’t be able to protect myself. More will come to take my blood, and if I’m still out here at daybreak then, yes, the sunlight will kill me.”

Your gaze moved from his ripped throat to his eyes again, hovering there. There was a thick leather cuff on your wrist that you used to cover up your scar, but you undid the buckle, exposing the underside of your forearm. You wondered if he was too weak to expose his fangs, so you used the back of one of your earrings to slice a thin opening across your skin, wincing in pain as you did so.

Eddie’s breath hitched in anticipation as you lifted the bleeding gash to his mouth. He couldn’t lift his arms, so you pressed it there, and his eyes locked on yours as you felt his tongue lick across the cut just before his eye went black and he began to suck, moaning, drinking you as a small trickle of blood dripped down to his chin.

At one point, he got some of his strength back, and his hand with the three silver, chunky rings came up to push your forearm against his eager mouth as he fed, and your heart raced at the sight of it. The passion of his need made your pussy clench around nothing as you knelt there in the grimy parking lot.

When his swallowing finally slowed, you tugged your arm away and clutched it to the underside of your apron. Eddie licked his blood-stained lips and met your eyes again. “Seriously,” he was strong enough now to brace his hands and push himself up so that his back was no longer on the ground. He leaned close as if he could read the answers in your eyes. “What are you?”

Your face was inches from his. “Do I taste different?”

“Yes,” he returned, without hesitation. The mauled skin around his neck and wrists were completely healed. “I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

You got to your feet, clipping your leather cuff back on, realizing you’d need to find a first aid kit before you went back to work.

“I owe you big time,” Eddie looked you up and down as he sat for a bit to catch his breath. “If you ever need---”

The back door to Main Vein opened and Erica was standing there with her arms crossed, shouting across the parking lot at you. “What the hell is going on out here? Am I working the floor by myself tonight or what?”

You walked to the back end of the van to tell her you’d be right in, and when you turned back to say something to Vampire Eddie---he was gone.

-------

“What the hell were you thinking?” Erica blanched as she helped you wrap up your arm at the desk in Bob’s office. “You know these Fangers eat people, right?”

She was still yelling, but you were trying not to take it personal. “Well, he didn’t eat me, so I guess there are exceptions.”

“What the hell do you call him drinking your blood, then?” Erica had a very soft touch while bandaging you up, careful to make sure she cleaned the wound and inspected you to make sure you didn’t have a bite mark.

“You girls okay?” Bob came around the corner, flushed, his face red and glistening in sweat from a long night behind the grill.

Erica jerked her thumb over her shoulder at you. “This one decided to play vigilantly in the parking lot to save one of your vampire buddies.”

Bob beamed. “Aw, you made a vampire friend? They’re awesome aren’t they?”

This time, you and Erica exchanged a confused look.

---------

At the end of your shift, Bob and Argyle stayed to finish up with two vampire customers at the bar who were lingering. With a heavy sigh, you took your blue, blood-stained apron off, grabbed things from your wood cubby in the back, and then walked with Erica down to the end of the sidewalk. The two of you had to split up and go in separate directions because your hearse was parked at the curb, and Erica only lived a few blocks away. You offered her a ride home, but she declined. You could feel that she had some personal issues weighing on her heart, and besides that, she had a deep well of emotions inside for the people she cared about, and it took her a while to trust people and open up. If you didn’t have your curse, you’ve might’ve just assumed she hated you.

It was late, but because of growing vampire population in civilized areas, there were several lights in windows, and the low hum of conversations drifting down from higher up apartments. There were streetlamps on each corner, but the dark side of the building cast a heavy shadow on you as you fumbled for your keys.

You were just about to unlock the door when you heard the shuffling of footsteps, and then before you could turn, the hard edge of a rope edge dug into your neck, gagging you, and then you were yanked back, off your feet. You tried to scream, but it only came out as a gargle. Your ass caught most of the fall to the pavement, but then your head clapped back onto the hard surface and it caused a ringing sound in your skull. The person holding the rope around your neck pulled it tighter, and you struggled, kicking your feet, trying to get free.

Angie Klemp and her brother in the American flag t-shirt were standing above you, sneering. She kicked you in the ribs and you wailed at the pain. She squatted down to mock you. “Oh, darn, I guess that fanger boyfriend of yours isn’t around to return the favor now, is he?”

They were dragging you now, pulling you by the neck around into the alleyway where no one could see what they were about to do to you.

Your vision was getting blurry as you heard the woman's voice again. “You cost me five thousand dollars worth of fanger blood, and we’re gonna take it out of your ass.”

The rope burned as it slipped off your neck and you were somehow able to roll on your side and stand, just as one of the men punched you across the face and you went down again, coughing, tasting blood. You were on your hands and knees, trying to catch your breath, and one of them kicked the steel toe of their boot into your stomach, making you double over in pain as they laughed, tears squeezing from your eyes as you tasted bile.

You wondered if you were going to die there.

In a blink, with spots in your eyes, you tried to focus as you swore you saw the guy in the trucker hat get his neck broken right there where he stood. His head twisted all the way around, forced by seemingly invisible hands, and then he slumped to the ground, dead. Before the other two could figure out what was happening, you saw Eddie pick the guy with the American flag shirt up and throw him onto the hood of a car, his head crashing through the windshield with a bloody splat. Angie tried to run, but Eddie caught her by the back of her neck and picked her up off of her feet. With one hand, he threw her into the nearby dumpster and slammed the lid with a bang.

This had all been done in seconds; he moved at the speed of light.

You were on your side, choking on blood, feeling scared as your vision began to tunnel. But then, strong arms were lifting you up as Eddie scooped you against his chest, “I got you, I got you,” he murmured against your bloody head. “You’re gonna be okay.”

You might have blacked out for a bit because when you opened your eyes, you were on the grass in the park across the street, propped up against a tree. You mewed in pain as your head throbbed and you choked on a sticky pool of blood in the back of your throat.

Eddie took his jacket and denim off as he knelt in front of you, revealing the Metallica t-shirt he had on. You tried to hold your head up as he produced his fangs and sank them into his own arm, and then held the leaking bite marks out to you.

“You need to drink my blood, so you can heal,” he said. He didn’t want to scare you in that moment, but you had a serious gash in your skull, and he had no idea how bad that kick you took had affected your internal organs.

You tried to push away from him, your eyes wide. “I don’t want to be a vampire.”

“You won’t be,” he assured you. “Believe me, I don’t want this for you, either.”

There was a tenderness in him then that you were noticing for the first time. You’d been taken by surprise, but under normal circumstances, you would’ve been able to handle the Klemps on your own. You weren’t used to feeling helpless and in need of someone’s care. You could feel the blood dripping down your neck and your vision was starting to fade again.

“Just a little bit,” you breathed, sticky lips parted.

Eddie cupped your head in one hand as he brought his arm over, similar to how you had fed him earlier. The weeping holes from his fang marks were right in the middle of one of his tattoos and you closed your eyes as your mouth latched on, nursing on him like your life depended on it---which it did. It tasted ordinary, like sucking on a penny, but it felt like velvet on your tongue, warming your insides.

Consumed with a sudden lust for the juice in his veins, you sucked harder, whimpering, and you didn’t see it, but Eddie’s eyes went back as he growled in the back of his throat at the pleasure of the sensation. You drank until your brain stopped throbbing, and then you rested your head back against the tree, a smear of his blood across your chin.

You noticed Eddie was close to you, his mouth at your temple as he licked a bit of your blood from a scratch there as it was healing. You jerked to the side, surprised to catch him wanting to sample you again.

Your eyes locked. “What do I taste like?”

He searched your face, aroused by the sight of his blood on your mouth. “Like...memories. Like ice cream and summer breeze and suntan lotion melting on warm skin.”

Your lips were almost touching as he confessed this to you. There was no vocabulary for him to properly explain the many layered depth to your blood; it was sweet and savory, and it also tingled in the back of his throat like pop rocks or fireworks and made him feel alive again if only for a few moments.

You lifted your hand to your throat to find that the rope burn was gone, and your ribs didn’t feel like they were broken. You were just about to ask him another question, but then he was on his feet in a flash, putting his jacket on.

“Also,” he flipped his hair out of the collar of his leather. “Now that you have my blood in you, I’ll always know where you are,” it sounded more cryptic than he meant for it to, and so he added, “just in case you ever need my help again.”

You frowned. “But, how will you know if I need help?”

He busied himself rolling his cuffs up. “I’ll be able to sense your fear.”

You were letting that sink in when he spoke up again. “And don’t be surprised if you have some dreams about me.”

“Dreams?” You raised an eyebrow.

He turned his head and rested his tongue between his teeth as he figured out how to say it. “The sexual kind.”

“Oh,” you looked down, suddenly embarrassed. He stood there shuffling his foot on the grass and you had so many questions for him. How had he become a vampire? Was it something that he chose, or was it forced on him? How long had he been one? You were trying to choose which one to ask when he spoke.

“Hop up,” he said, gesturing for you to get on his back like you were a little girl. “I’ll take you back to your hearse.”

Normally, you hated when men tried to pick you up, but Vampire Eddie carried you across the street like you weighed no more than air. You had your arms around his shoulders and his hands were cupped under your thighs; the vanilla sandalwood of his hair blew across your face in soft tendrils. He lowered you to the ground once he got to the parking lot, and you both looked down the alleyway at the Klemp bodies that Eddie had dropped in his effort to rescue you.

You swallowed. “It’s illegal for vampires to kill humans,” you said in a hush. “I don’t want you to get in trouble for this. I’ll tell the police I was---”

“No police,” Eddie stopped you in a gruff voice. His jaw muscles flexed as he turned to you. “It’s also illegal for humans to drain a vampire for sport,” he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and bit one with his teeth to pull it out of the pack. It bounced there as he talked, squinting one eye at you. “I’ll take care of them, you don’t have to worry about it, princess.”

Since he’d just saved your life, you decided to let him get away with the pet name.

He lit his smoke and took a tight, hissing inhale before aiming the exhale over your head. “I’ll stay here to make sure you get on the road okay.”

You looked down at yourself. “Yeah, I suppose I should get home and take a shower,” you noticed that your bag was in the gutter next to your front tire and you bent to pick it up, along with your keys up. “Guess I’ll see you around the trailer park.”

Inside the hearse, you watched from your rear view mirror as vampire Eddie leaned his back against the wall to smoke and make sure no one bothered you. He picked something off his tongue as you started the engine, and then you lowered your head to shift into gear.

You were not surprised this time to find him gone when you looked up.

-----

"Dig if you will the picture of you and I engaged in a kiss The sweat of your body covers me Can you my darling? Can you picture this? Dream if you can, a courtyard An ocean of violets in bloom Animals strike curious poses They feel the heat The heat between me and you How could you just leave me standing alone in a world so cold?"

-- When Doves Cry//Prince

------

Part 3: The taste of you

——-

Thank you for reading!

#vampire eddie x reader #Eddiemunson #eddie munson series #vampire eddie au #vampire eddie munson #trueblood #eddie munson fic

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eiightysixbaby · 9 months

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Idk if your requests are open- Eddie and rock singer!reader? They both perform at the hideout, which is how they met, and then he finds out she goes to Hawkins High as well. Rest is up to you 😊 p

hi love! thanks for your request, I adore this! I hope you enjoy my take on it 🫶🏻

Eddie genuinely can’t believe his eyes. There’s no way - no way - a girl as gorgeous as you lives in Hawkins and he’s never seen you before. There’s no way this gorgeous girl exists and she can sing like a goddess. But, here you are, performing with your band at the Hideout on the same night he’s performing with Corroded Coffin.

You’re doing a cover of Barracuda by Heart, killing it if Eddie’s being honest. Your voice works so well for the song and your energy is so captivating, he’s actually got heart shaped eyes as he watches you command the tiny little stage. It puts the set they just played to shame, the way you draw a crowd - that isn’t just full of drunk people.

Gareth knocks his fist against Eddie’s shoulder, breaking him out of his trance. Eddie glances at him, unwilling to tear his eyes away from you for too long.

“Dude, they’re fucking amazing,” Gareth says emphatically. “That girl can sing.”

“Tell me about it. I genuinely think I found the love of my life,” Eddie replies, shifting his gaze back onto you as if to prove a point.

He watches as you belt into the microphone, finishing the song and giving an enthusiastic bow before you and the rest of your band leave the stage.

“Go talk to her, man!” Jeff encourages, leaning over the table to grab Eddie’s forearm, giving it a slight shake.

Eddie shakes his head, curly hair flopping around his face. “Nah, I dunno, man,” he starts, but the guys don’t even let him finish.

“Don’t say she wouldn’t be into you,” Gareth interjects “because she literally did a cover of Dio earlier. That girl was made for you.”

“And she’s wearing a Metallica shirt,” Jeff says.

“And I caught her watching our set,” says Grant. “But she certainly wasn’t looking at any one of us except you, Ed,” he laughs.

“Okay, alright, point taken,” Eddie snaps, raising his hands up to silence the group.

He knows he should talk to you. He knows he’ll regret it forever if he doesn’t. And yet, when he sees you sit down with your band mates at the table beside his, he feels his stomach do somersaults. Your laugh sounds like sunshine. Like butterflies and rainbows and glitter and everything good. It simultaneously makes him nauseous and elated. He feels himself go rigid with nerves as you talk mere feet away from him, rambling excitedly to your friends about how well they did up on stage. He feels himself literally turn to stone when Gareth stands up, sidling up to your table and congratulating you all on an awesome performance.

Because Eddie knows Gareth, and he knows he’s not just innocently praising you guys, no. He’s on a mission to make Eddie crawl out of his skin, and he’s about to achieve it.

“Yeah, me and my friend Eddie were just talking about how great you guys sounded. Isn’t that right, Ed?” he says, giving Eddie a wickedly cheeky grin as Eddie turns to look at him. He’d be scowling if it weren’t for the fact that you are also looking right at him.

He’s like a deer in headlights, lips parted slightly as he fully meets your eyes. He blubbers like a fish for a moment before Jeff literally kicks him under the table, waking him up.

“Uh, y-yeah, oh yeah. You guys were incredible, put us to shame really,” he forces out a laugh, tries to force a sense of ease into his voice, which is horribly ironic.

You seem to buy it, though, or at least you don’t comment on it if you can tell that he’s about ready to tunnel underground and leave this bar forever. Instead, you beam at him, a brilliant and gorgeous smile that would have his knees buckling if he’d been standing.

“Thanks, Eddie, but you guys truly killed it. We couldn’t have possibly competed with that Master of Puppets solo you delivered,” you say excitedly, talking with your hands. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you say, leaning forward on your table, extending a hand as far as it will go for him to shake.

He totally notices how you didn’t extend a hand to Gareth, oh boy does he notice. He only sweats a little bit as he reaches his hand to meet yours, shaking it firmly. “It’s great to meet you,” he says, smiling softly, butterflies still raging in his stomach.

“You should’ve seen him when he was learning that solo,” Grant interjects, “holed himself up in his room for weeks until he mastered it.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t do anything else but practice. I swear, he probably didn’t shower for day-” Jeff is cut off by an elbow to his ribs, Eddie turning to him with an expression that says ‘you’re dead if you keep talking’.

“Ooookay, anyways,” Eddie interrupts, his cheeks going pink.

His face feels hot as you laugh at the image his friends had put in your brain. But you aren’t truly laughing at him, Eddie can tell, and your response only affirms it. “I don’t blame you, it’s one of those songs that just infects you, right? Your hard work clearly paid off, too,” you say, still smiling brightly.

Eddie feels his nerves ease a bit, and he knows he’s in good company with you. You aren’t phased by his awkwardness, you don’t even seem to notice. Eventually, your friends and his friends all leave the tables, walking over to play some of the pinball machines tucked in one of the corners of the bar. It’s just you and him now, silence washing over the scene as he finds he doesn’t really know what to say.

“So, uh, you from Hawkins? I’ve never seen you around,” he wonders, voice cracking mid-sentence. He wants to slam his head against the table top until it cracks open, but he perseveres.

“I actually moved here at the start of summer,” you say, setting down the glass of water you’d been sipping on. “Moved in right next door to our drummer, caught him playing in his garage the one day, and the rest was history. They needed a singer for the band, and I decided, why not?” you smile, reminiscing on those first days of friendship. “Anyway, I’m due to start at Hawkins High next week for the new school year. I’ll be a senior.”

Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest at that, giddiness brewing in his chest at the thought of seeing you again. “Oh, no shit! I go to Hawkins High, too. I’ll be, uh, I’ll be doing my senior year…. for the… third time,” he winces, earning a soft laugh out of you.

“Third times a charm, isn’t that what they say?” you beam at him, resting a hand on his forearm gently and squeezing once before pulling away. Your soft eyes meet his, and he feels all of his worries melt away. There isn’t a hint of judgment in your voice, in your gaze, and it’s genuinely a weird feeling to Eddie. He feels like he could tell you anything.

God, he’s screwed.

Eddie normally hates the first day of school. Everyone bubbling with an excitement he doesn’t feel, talking to their friends as if they haven’t seen each other in ages, when this town is so small it’d be next to impossible to not have run into each other over the summer. School to him was just a place where people would pick on him, try to tear him apart, outcast him. Yeah, the first day of school has never been Eddie’s favorite day. Until today.

He finds himself getting up before his alarm even goes off, the anticipation of possibly getting to see you taking over his brain. You hadn’t spoken since that night at the Hideout, he didn’t get your number like an idiot, and needless to say he’s been dying to talk to you again. His friends gave him plenty of hell for not setting up a date with you or something, but he just couldn’t do it so impulsively. Now, though? Now, he wants to work up the nerve to do it, and he’s hoping he’ll get the chance to see you throughout the school day.

His uncle Wayne notices the unusual skip in his step, the small smile tugging at his lips as he prepares his breakfast for the day.

“What’s gotten into you, boy? Usually I’m dragging your ass outta bed so you’re not late for first period,”

“Just, uh, just excited to start my last year of high school,” Eddie says, playing it off. “One day closer to graduating and leaving that place forever, huh?”

Wayne doesn’t buy it, knows Eddie’s been dreading doing senior year over for a second time, but he doesn’t press the issue. Just gives him a slight nod and goes out to the porch to drink his coffee.

Eddie flies through his morning routine; scarfs down his breakfast, chugs a mug of coffee very ungracefully, showers and gets dressed. He puts on a Dio shirt, thinking back to the cover of Holy Diver you did with your band. A conversation starter, he thinks to himself. He grabs his keys, heading for his van with his backpack and his little tin lunch box full of drugs in tow - because, y’know, he won’t turn down the chance to make a few extra bucks today if the opportunity presents itself.

The halls of Hawkins High are bustling when he arrives, full of giddy freshmen going over their schedules with their friends, teachers greeting the students, the jocks being obnoxiously loud as per usual. But this time, Eddie doesn’t feel an overwhelming sense of dread consuming him. His eyes scan the sea of people for your familiar face, but he doesn’t see you.

He can’t really be disappointed yet - there’s tons of students here, it’s unlikely you’d be the first one he’d run into. But then first period passes and you aren’t in his class. And then second, and third. Halfway through the day, and still nothing. What if you don’t share a single period with him? What if he doesn’t get the chance to see you at all?

He trudges into the cafeteria at his designated lunch hour, mood lifting a little when he sees Gareth and Grant waving at him eagerly from the table they’d claimed.

“What’s up, man? You look a little down in the dumps,” Gareth says, frowning a little at the older boy.

“He’s sad cause he hasn’t seen the love of his life yet,” Jeff says, coming up behind Eddie with his tray of food, startling him.

“Oh shut up,” Eddie mumbles, taking his seat and pulling his sandwich from his lunch bag.

He’s not really listening to the conversation his friends dive into, he’s too busy scanning the room for you. His eyes roam over the various tables, separated into their designated cliques. He spots the band geeks, the cheerleaders, the basketball team - just the way it always is. There’s a sea of people in here but he doesn’t find the one he’s looking for. Just as he’s about to lose hope, to resign to the fact that you’ve probably been assigned to a different lunch period, he hears a familiar voice calling his name.

“Eddie?” your voice calls, and he turns in his seat.

You wave eagerly at him when his eyes land on you, and it makes his stomach flip. You look perfect, dressed a bit more preppy than you had been at the Hideout, but still not untrue to yourself.

“I’m so glad I ran into you! Love the shirt, by the way,” you tell him, and he feels his cheeks heat.

“Y/N, hey,” he says, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. “It’s so great to see you again, how’re you liking Hawkins High?”

“Eh, it’s alright so far. The jocks are extra annoying and Ms. O’Donnell seems like she’ll be a pain in my ass, but I’ll push through,” you say, still smiling despite your complaints.

“Don’t get me started on that woman,” Eddie says, shaking his head and laughing.

You greet the rest of the guys, chatting briefly with all of them about band stuff and what classes you’re taking. Eddie watches you, listens to that gorgeous laugh of yours as you exchange banter with his friends. He’s got stars in his eyes every time you glance over at him.

Soon enough you decide you need to head back to your table, wanting to make sure you have enough time to eat your food. “It was great to see you guys again, we’ll have to get together sometime soon!” you say, waving pointedly at Eddie as you retreat to your own seat with your own friends.

Eddie wants to smack himself for not making a move, not asking you out on a date. The opportunity slipped right through his fingers. He doesn’t even need to look at the guys to know they’re all staring at him, ready to deliver various quips about how he had his chance right there.

“Don’t say shit, or I’ll make the next Hellfire campaign a nightmare for all of you,” he threatens, pointing a ringed finger at the three of them.

The table goes silent, each of the guys suddenly extremely interested in their meals, none of them daring another glance in Eddie’s direction.

The rest of the school day drags. Eddie knows he’ll see you again, he knows it wasn’t his only shot to ask you out, but he disappointed himself by losing the nerve to speak up. What if he flounders every time he sees you? What if someone else snatches you up before he can get the balls to try? He absentmindedly floats through his last few periods, staring into space as he daydreams about you.

Finally, the last bell rings, saving him from purgatory. He packs up his things and shuffles out of his classroom, ready to go home and just sleep away his self-pity.

Then, he sees you. You’re about to head out the door of the building, backpack slung over your shoulders. A fire ignites beneath his feet, a gnawing feeling that tells him he can’t let you get away this time. He picks up his pace as he heads in your direction, sneakers squeaking on the freshly polished floors. He doesn’t give himself the time to second guess it. He calls your name, and you turn, eyes shining when you realize it’s him.

“Eddie, hi, what’s up?” you ask, tilting your head to the side a little as you both step out of the way of the crowds of students who are eager to leave for the day.

“Hey, um, I was just wondering if… maybe you’d want to swing by the diner or something? For dinner tonight?” he asks, his palms sweating as he speaks.

For once, he thinks he’s made you nervous. You glance away from him for a moment, chewing your lip as you hold back a smile.

“I’d love to,” you say, and he feels an immense weight lifting off of his shoulders. He feels like he could fly right now if he wanted to.

“I can pick you up at around, say five-thirty?” he questions, waiting for your approval. He shifts his weight on his feet, hands fidgeting with one of the straps of his book bag.

“Okay, yeah,” you agree, pulling a piece of paper and pen from your backpack and scribbling your address down, handing it to him. “I’ll see you then, Eddie,” you grin. Then, you lean closer, your mouth hovering beside his ear. “Maybe after dinner you can teach me how to play Master of Puppets,” you say quietly, pulling back with a slight smirk on your face.

He doesn’t get the chance to respond before you’re gone, pushing the doors open and walking through the parking lot. He looks down at the paper you’d handed him, sparkly purple ink from your gel pen gleaming up at him.

And yeah, Eddie’s so fucking screwed with you. But there’s no way he’s letting you out of his grip now.

#leah’s got mail 💌#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb

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odyssean-flower · 2 months

Text

Have another deleted scene

(all i can say is that the chapter is coming together, so here, have this scene)

For a few moments, neither of you spoke. You stared at the misty scenery before you. It somewhat reminded you of the painting you did for Neuvillette.

I should get straight to the point, you thought, then turned to him. But before you could speak, he beat you to it.

“What is that?” he asked, pointing to the wrapped bundle on your lap.

“Oh, this?” you looked down at it. “These are the macarons I made.”

“You made them?” he leaned closer towards you. His eyes looked more animated than you had ever seen them before. They made for a strange contrast against his serious features, and you couldn’t help but stare at them. Even though he had an ageless sort of look, he looked younger somehow.

It took you a few seconds before you realized you were, once again, staring at him for too long. One would think that you would know better by now.

“Yes. There was a baking workshop happening in town, so I decided to join it for fun. I don’t think they turned out very well, though, so I’m planning to feed them to the ducks.”

“I see,” Neuvillette stared at the bundle in consideration, then spoke again. “You may not be aware of this, but Fontaine’s laws state that it is illegal to feed cakes and other baked goods to birds. It is detrimental to their digestive systems.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that,” you said. “Well, of course you would know about these things. I’ll just throw them away, then.” You decided not to mention the many times you fed burnt bread to the finches and pigeons back home.

“Throw them away? How wasteful. Surely they could be served for some better purpose.”

“Well, I’ve already eaten, and I don’t want to give bad macarons to Marie or the Melusines, so I’m not sure what to do with them.”

“I could think of a few solutions,” Neuvillette gave you a meaningful look.

“Hold on…are you saying that you want to eat them?” you said incredulously.

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes,” you nodded emphatically. “I’ve never seen you eat desserts at home, and macarons aren’t exactly brimming with moisture. Plus…I was not exaggerating when I said they aren’t good. They really aren’t.”

“It is good to try new things. Also, I doubt anything you made could be truly terrible.”

Where is his high opinion of me coming from? You wondered, not for the first time. “I don’t want you to eat bad food. I’ll make something better for you next time, I promise.”

“I still wish to sample them, though,” Neuvillette was being strangely insistent about this. The rain seemed to be coming down harder. “Even one will do.”

“If you insist. Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” you unwrapped the bundle and handed him a pink macaron. He took it from you and put it in his mouth without even so much as inspecting it. Somehow, he admirably managed to keep a straight face as he tasted the cake and swallowed it. He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket, and for a moment you thought he was going to spit into it. But no, he only wiped his mouth.

“Another, please,” he said. He didn’t even sound a little winded.

“I can’t do that to you,” you said, feeling as though you had committed a crime. Neuvillette was known to not have many good words to say about Fontainian cuisine, and yet, here he was, choking down your terrible macarons. Maybe he’ll completely swear off human food after this. “Don’t force yourself for my sake.”

“I’m not forcing myself,” Neuvillette said, and it was almost convincing. “It isn’t as bad as you said. It…certainly possesses a unique flavor.”

“Neuvillette…” you said in exasperation. “I wish you would stop being so overly considerate. It’s alright to say what you feel, I can take it.”

“But I do mean what I say, always,” Neuvillette said, sounding baffled. “May I please have another macaron.”

You stared at him for a minute, and he stared back at you. He was always so sincere. It only strengthened your belief that you were making the right choice here.

“Fine, since you seem so keen on torturing yourself. But we’ll split this one, okay?”

You broke a blue macaron in half and gave one half to him. You made a face as you chewed and swallowed the cake. You had no idea what possessed Neuvillette to ask for seconds.

After you finished your baking mishap, you washed it down with the bottle of Fonta that you had thankfully brought with you. Neuvillette was similarly taking a sip of water from his cup. You could feel his disapproving gaze on you, but chose to ignore him.

At last, you managed to wash the flavor of paste out of your mouth and calmed your nerves down somewhat. Now, go for it, or else you’ll never get the nerve again! You mentally cheered yourself on.

#neuvillette x reader #my writing

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early20sfailingplenty · 4 months

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A while ago, you wrote Lester with a vampire s/o, and I was wondering if I can request something where he (and bros) find out she’s a siren? Maybe like, when she’s in her human form, she’s like, a regular girl, but when she’s in her siren form (which happens when she becomes wet), she has the typical abilities of a siren?

Lester would think it's the coolest thing ever! He's the kind of guy who finds out you can draw and unthinkingly asks if you can draw him! He means it with genuine encouragement, and it's only after you wince and seem to withdraw a little from him that he realises that perhaps he's being a little bit pressuring towards you and your skills.

Similarly, when he finds out that you transform into a siren when your skin becomes wet, Lester immediately wants to see!

"C'mon, darlin', c'n y'show me?" He's grinning, having only ever heard of sirens on TV and from those books which Bo used to read to him when the three brothers huddled up into one person's bed to comfort one another when their parents were fighting.

If you indulge him and transform, he wants to see you show off your skills - what can you do? It's very genuine, very supportive, with Lester whooping and hollering even if all you did was flick your tail as you come up for air - whether you need it or not, the mythology surrounding sirens can be contrary at times. If you don't, Lester ain't too bothered - he'll see it sooner or later. Sooner, he hopes, he's excited!He didn't know you could do this and he wants to see!!! He knows how to be patient and in the end, time tells all.

If it's possible, Lester falls even more in love with you, and in the back of his mind he's working out ways to use this to his advantage - sirens lure sailors, he lures canvases to Ambrose... yeah, this could be fun...

Bo scoffs when you tell him, he doesn't believe you, no matter how well you set up telling him, or even if he finds out because you transform.

You could be in the water in front of him, swishing your tail emphatically, and he would still bend down, squinting in concentration, trying to see how you're doing it. The call of the siren is irresistible, however, and the sweet haunting tones you emit from deep inside your throat would finally be what would convince him - he'd be powerless to resist even if he wanted to.

"You're real pretty, darlin', ain't never seen nothin' like it 'fore."

You should hope not, you silently bristle, but Bo's reverent gaze and calculative smirk as he mentally adjusts his killing routine to include you... it sends your tail curling - you might be the siren, but Bo is the honey trap, and you're both stuck.

Vincent, ironically, is the one least surprised. He always thought, in the privacy of his mind, that you were like a siren - how else had he been so immediately drawn to you, falling in love with you before he had even known your name? He had often sculpted sirens while thinking of you, you had an ethereal air about you. He had thought it an unexplainable facet of your personality - clearly, it wasn't.

He would sometimes ask you to sing to him; when his thoughts are too loud or he's angry or he just needs something to shut his mind down for a little bit. Your voice instantly sweeps him out to sea, like sailors in times gone by, and all Vincent can do is stand there and take it all in. You can lull him to sleep - he trusts you to protect him, though your true form is known the world over for causing the death of thousands.

How beautiful, then, that a man who has killed tens of people feels safe in the presence of one who has likely done the same. Truly, a match made in hell.

#slasher x reader #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #house of wax x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader

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bihansthot · 7 months

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Ok now that I've seen Scorpions dialogues I wanted to change a little my request, still make it like a s rivals to lovers type of thing with Smoke x reader, but is more of like "we disliked each other at first but we say our good on us and became close", kinda like with Kenshi and Johnny

I’m so sorry for the wait lovely, this is soooooo not my wheel house T_T Hopefully it came out ok and you enjoy it!

Title: First Impressions Can Be Deceiving

Rating: Mature (sweet loving)

Pairing: Smoke x Afab!Reader

Summary: After the events that happened at Madam Bo’s you were convinced you hated the Lin Kuei, especially the one who hurt Madam Bo, but as time goes on you realized you may have misjudged him, and develop feelings for him?!

Author’s Note: I am AWFUL at enemies/rivals to lovers, and tried my best, Smoke is very kind and gentle like the sweet cinnamon roll he is. Please like/comment/reblog if you enjoyed it. Thank you lovelies <3

Your first impression of the warrior called Smoke was not a good one, you were introduced to him at the raid on Madam Bo’s Tea House and even though Lord Liu Kang had assured you Smoke and his fellow Lin Kuei were there to test you and the other champions, Smoke’s actions had left a bad taste in your mouth. Surely there was a better way to subdue Madam Bo than to throw her off a balcony, even if she was tougher than she looked she was still a respected elder. You didn’t like the whole thing and maybe your anger should have been directed at Lord Liu Kang, but in your mind, it was the Lin Kuei to blame.

The next time you saw the Lin Kuei was when you and the other champions were training at the Wu Shi academy and despite your earlier misgivings you were slowly starting to realize maybe Smoke at least wasn’t as bad or arrogant as you thought he was. He was polite and courteous to Lord Liu Kang and the rest of you. It perplexed you because you had already made up your mind you didn’t like him or the Lin Kuei. His voice cuts through your thoughts though before you had time to process things fully.

“How are you liking your time at the Wushi Academy? The monks truly are masters at their craft are they not?” Smoke asks taking a seat next to you.

“Their dedication is second to none, it’s quiet a sight to behold,” you reply, forcing yourself to make polite small talk.

“I can’t help but feel like I need to apologize to you, the other warriors don’t seem to have any problems with myself of my brothers, but you seem to. The Tea House was a test, Madam Bo knew all about it and was in on it, I would never hurt an elderly woman of my own accord. So, I’m sorry we deceived you, but I assure you it was all at the behest of Lord Liu Kang,” Smoke tries to explain for what seems like the thousandth time.

“You bashed her head into a railing and threw her off a balcony! In on it or not that’s just too much! You could have killed her!” You snap at him angrily. “Madam Bo is a kindly old proprietress not a master martial artist!”

“That’s where you’re wrong y/n, Madam Bo is a former Lin Kuei and IS a master martial artist, she trained Raiden and Kang Lao from childhood as she helped raise my brothers and I when she was in the Lin Kuei,” Smoke explains emphatically, desperate to convey the fact he wasn’t the bad guy here.

“She, she was Lin Kuei? Seriously?” You ask in disbelief shocked by this new revelation.

“Yes, she taught my brothers and I everything we know, well outside of my magic and my brother’s birthrights,” Smoke continues. “She’s much more sturdy than she looks, it was actually her idea to throw her off the balcony, she said it had to look realistic, to make sure the three of you actually fought to your full potential.”

“I, I see, maybe I misjudged you all but I still don’t like how the whole thing went down, and I still don’t trust you or the Lin Kuei,” you huff as you stand up and brush off your pants before stalking off. Thankfully you don’t have to deal with the Lin Kuei for long, Lord Liu Kang had other plans for them and you don’t see Smoke again until after the conflict with Titan Shang Tsung.

“Hello my dear, in order to help keep Earthrealm’s defenders strong and at peak performance I’ve organized a training exercise,” Lord Liu Kang addresses you as he materializes from his portal giving you quite the start.

“Y-yes, Lord Liu Kang, of course, as you wish,” you nod enthusiastically, looking forward to keeping your skills sharp.

“You will be training with the newly formed Shirai Ryu, their Grandmaster Kuai Liang and second-in-command Tomas, will assist you in your training and when they are satisfied will let me know you have completed your training,” he states authoritatively.

You wince internally, not them, they were the Lin Kuei, they may have a new name and might have sworn their loyalty to defending the Earthrealm, just like you had but you still had reservations about the trip. You had been able to avoid them at the Wushi Academy but it would be impossible like this, but you couldn’t say no to Lord Liu Kang. Sighing deeply you relent, “yes Lord Liu Kang, I will do my best.”

You make your preparations to travel to Japan and once you’re ready Lord Liu Kang appears to you again to transfer you there via a portal, the Shirai Ryu compound was well hidden in the countryside and traditional travel would have required many modes of transportation, so you were grateful to Lord Liu Kang for his assistance. Once you arrive you are formally introduced to Grandmaster Scorpion and his fiancée Harumi, both seem like good and honorable people despite the Grandmaster’s familial ties to the Lin Kuei’s Grandmaster, someone you definitely were not fond of. Maybe you had misjudged the former Lin Kuei members, you did think to yourself how Smoke had gone out of his way to sit with you and explain the situation with Madame Bo, slowly you found yourself less hostile. The longer you stayed with the Shirai Ryu and trained with them the fonder you found yourself of them, particularly Smoke, he was actually dare you say, sweet?

“How are you enjoying your time here, y/n?” Smoke asked you one night after the communal meal while you were enjoying the lush gardens of the Shirai Ryu Temple.

“I’ve enjoyed my time here immensely, the gardens are my favorite place to be, they’re so peaceful and serene, it makes me feel at peace,” you answer truthfully.

“I’m glad, I know you haven’t always been the biggest fan of me, but I have honestly always admired you and your skills and it’s been my pleasure to help you develop and hone your skills further, if there’s anything else I can do just let me know,” Smoke stands up making ready to leave and you tug on his pants.

“Stay with me for a bit?” You ask, almost surprised with yourself but you couldn’t lie to yourself any longer, somewhere along your stay you had developed feelings for the smoke wielder, and if you’re curious to see if he felt the same way.

“My pleasure,” Tomas answers and sits back down next to you enjoying the serene setting of the gardens with you.

“I, I have a confession to make, when I first met you I disliked you, no, down right hated you and your brothers for the events of the Tea House, but now I realize you’re nothing like that thug,” you pause to gather your courage. “The truth is Smoke, I find myself having feelings for you, I care about you and want to be closer to you, I want to be with you,” you confess, your cheeks flushed with the embarrassing words.

“I had hoped you felt the same way about me as I do for you, but I didn’t want to cross any lines or make you feel uncomfortable but zlatíčko I think I’ve been in love with you since the moment we crossed paths. Please, call me Tomas,” he returns your confession enthusiastically.

“T-Tomas,” you try his name and like the way it sounds coming from your lips, and if Tomas’ expression is anything to go by, so does he. His silvery eyes are lidded with pleasure and a faint blush spreads across his cheeks, he leans forward and closes the gap between the two of you as you share your first kiss together. It’s soft and gentle, slow and patient and wonderfully warm, the action ignites a spark of arousal just simmering in your belly, you’re immediately hungry for more. You tilt your head to the side letting the warrior deepen the kiss as you hungrily part your lips and welcome his warm tongue, it slides softly along your bottom lip as if asking permission before delving inside. You moan softly at the welcome intrusion and suck softly on his tongue pulling a soft moan from the smoke wielder, your hands wrap around him pulling him closer as your hands continue to glide over his well-muscled arms.

“Mmm zlatíčko, if you keep this up I may not be able to stop myself, I’ve found myself many lonely nights with just my thoughts of you to keep me company,” he whispers, biting his lower lip as if embarrassed.

“What if I told you I don’t want you to stop, what if I told you I may have thought about you the same way,” you reply sweetly, your lips finding his neck and sucking softly.

Smoke moans low in his throat, “please don’t tempt me, I want you so desperately,” he all but pleads with you.

“So, take me,” you whisper in a sweet invitation as you climb into his lap and you’re met with his hardness and it makes you feel bolder as you reach your hand down and start stroking at his clothed manhood. The moan he makes is so amazing and makes you feel lightheaded with arousal as you palm him harder through his pants and suck on his neck harder. Your lips soon find his again as you kiss him hard, teeth clicking together as you battle for dominance, he eventually concedes defeat as your tongue dances in his mouth and intertwines with his. You soon find yourself topless as the skilled warrior divests you of your bothersome garment, his face is pressed hotly between your breasts as he shudders slightly and rubs his smooth face against your lovely mounds. His skilled hands make quick work of your bra as he cups your breasts lovingly in his large callous hands.

“I, I must warn you zlatíčko, I’m not very skilled in the ways of pleasure, but I’m happy to do whatever I can to please you,” Smoke breathes out, embarrassed by his own shortcomings.

“We’ll have to figure it out together then because I’m afraid I’m in the same boat, I’ve well seen how things are done though,” you explain, the flush spreading to the tips of your ears now as you confide your inexperience to the other.

Softly Smoke presses a kiss to the top of your breast before his lips close around your nipple as he sucks lightly, the other hand teasing and lightly pinching your other breast earning a soft moan from you. He gradually applies more pressure sucking fervently on your nipple as his tongue swirls along the pebbled nub the action causing more heat and arousal to build up in your stomach as you feel your pants getting sticky and uncomfortable. You dip your hand underneath his waistband to grab onto his velvety shaft and he feels big and you’re suddenly a bit more nervous than you already were, but you trusted Tomas not to hurt you, so you gather your courage and start stroking his cock.

“Oh shit, that feels so good,” he hisses pulling away from your nipple and moans slightly the sound getting stuck in his throat.

“I want you, please,” you whine cutting the foreplay short the feeling of his hard cock so eager for you stroking your ego to the point that waiting is no longer an option.

“Are you sure?” He asks panting softly as you keep stroking his length in his pants as he moves to continue undressing you but stops to make sure this is what you really want.

“Make love to me Tomas,” you sigh softly giving him a soft kiss before rolling off him and lying in the soft grass of the picturesque garden.

“As you wish my lady,” he smiles and swallows audibly, clearly battling with some nerves, but he shakes them off the best he can as he pulls his top off and helps pull your pants and panties off. He can’t help himself though, he has to sneak a taste as he presses your thighs apart and slots his head in between your thighs, and runs his tongue over your luscious little pussy, it's welcoming and sticky with your want. He moans deeply as he gets his taste and the vibrations reverberate through your body pulling a startled cry of his name from you.

“Tomas please, stop teasing,” you whimper and wriggle the action of just his tongue alone was almost enough to overload your inexperienced body.

“Sorry,” he offers sheepishly before kicking his pants off and positioning himself between your legs, he grabs his cock and rubs the slick velvety head along your slit a few times before resting at your entrance. “Let me know if it hurts,” he tells you before kissing your forehead and slowly pushing inside your impossibly tight warmth.

You cry softly as you feel his cock opening you up and pushing inside you, it feels full, so full, and slightly uncomfortable, you suddenly feel a jolt of pain and a slight tearing sensation as Tomas keeps pushing steadily in. “Oh fuck, it hurts a little, but at the same time it feels nice, I-I can’t explain it,” you whimper as you wrap your arms around Smoke’s well-built shoulders.

Tomas immediately stills, “do you want me to pull out, or stop? We don’t have to do this,” he insists.

You shake your head ‘no’ and squeeze gently around him earning a sharp breath from Tomas, “no, please keep going.” You squirm slightly and roll your hips experimentally against his cock as he finishes burying it inside your plush walls, it feels like it's too much but at the same time, it feels like it was built just for you. “Oh Tomas, you feel so good,” you whine.

“Heh, I was about to say the same thing about you zlatíčko,” he quips back as he holds himself still, letting you adjust despite his desire to feel more of your sticky, tight wetness.

“You-you can move, I think, please?” You ask him softly as the burn and sting dissipate as your body acclimates to his cock.

He starts thrusting slowly and it feels heavenly, you moan immediately as his cock starts moving inside your tight canal. He makes soft noises as his cock disappears in and out of your tight, wet pussy, “god, you’re perfect zlatíčko, so warm and tight, it feels so much better than my hand.”

“Tell me about it,” you moan in agreement and cant your hips slightly and suddenly cry out sharply as Tomas’ cock suddenly hits something inside you that makes you see stars. “Do, do that again,” you practically demand and Tomas repeats the action pulling another shaky cry from you. “Oh please, yes, that’s so good Tomas,” you whimper as you focus on keeping your hips at the perfect angle so each one of his thrusts hit that sweet spot over and over. You cling to his body as he thrusts in and out of you, the arousal building and building in your stomach as he keeps a steady pace.

“I’m not going to last much longer zlatíčko, where do you want me to cum?” Tomas asks and he’s breathy and dripping in sweat as he starts fucking you harder now, chasing his release.

You panic and you aren’t sure where you want him, “in-inside please, I want to feel you cum, please Tomas, just a little more, I’m so close,” you beg him, eyes squeezing closed as your stomach tightens almost unpleasantly.

“As you wish,” he pants and keeps plunging in and out of your tight pussy, his body shaking with exertion.

“To-Tomas!” You squeal as your orgasm suddenly washes over you, the pleasure jolting down your spine as your toes curl and you feel lightheaded as you hit your high.

Tomas holds you tight and moans loudly as you want soaks his cock making it hard to keep it inside you, he manages though as he quickly falls over the edge as your pussy walls flutter and grasp his cock.

You shake slightly as you feel Tomas’ release flooding your tight pussy and you whine at the sensation, you can’t stop shaking as the feeling of your lingering orgasm intensifies knowing you had pushed Tomas to his limit too.

Tomas tries to pull in deep breaths of air as he tries to get his breathing back under control as he moves to pull out of you, concerned he might be hurting you.

“Please stay close, it feels so good,” you whimper, shyly as you hold him, unwilling to let go of your post-coitus glow.

“Whatever you want zlatíčko,” he smiles and holds you until you're ready to let him go.

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