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Desert Oasis

✽ Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x f!reader (The Mummy AU)

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

✽ Part 8 - On a horse with no name

Let's just assume from now on that I'm incapable of writing anything that could conceivably be referred to as a 'normal length', shall we? I already broke this up with part 7 and I didn't want to give you three chapters of just desert.

Also I have an Ao3 now if any of you would prefer to read it over there instead. All of my works will be cross posted.

Buckle in for this almost 13k monstrosity! :)

Traveling the first leg of the desert was definitely not a glamorous endeavor. Adjusting to a horse’s gait was far different than that of a camel’s pace. Whereas you were familiar with the lateral walk of the former which had diagonal leg pairs moving together, the latter moved in a syncopated rhythm - both legs on one side progressing forward at the same time.

You quickly learned it was imperative to let your body sway along with the rockiness as it plodded along, tensing up only serving to add discomfort to an already strange motion. It took some getting used to, but once you got past the years of conditioning from riding horseback and into the hang of it you found it a rather enjoyable experience lumbering along over massive sand dunes.

The sweat beaded on your temples, dripping from your brow bone and skiing down the ridge of your nose. The sun scorched your skin and chapped your lips, tongue darting out to relieve the worst of it as you tried to be sparing with your water consumption.

The breaks were few and far between, but that was to be understood when you were voyaging through a dry, arid wasteland with an average temperature of over forty degrees celsius. You’d made the journey across the Mediterranean and Tyrrhenian Seas multiple times in your life, accustomed to the vastness of the blue rolling waters laid out as far as the eye can see. It was easy to see how civilizations believed the world was flat for millennia when there was nothing to break up the horizon.

You distinctly remembered your first crossing as a child. You’d ended up clutching onto your mother’s skirts in horror the first time you sailed away from the coast out into the English Channel. It was an unsettling trick of the eye; as if you were staring at the most beautiful painting of sky and sea… but if you got too close you’d sail straight through the canvas and off the edge of the world.

The same could almost be said of your current environment, sand seemingly endless no matter how far the camels trudged onward. The landscape was broken up only by the occasional rock formation, areas of packed earth along the flats where the brittle cracks spoke of how parched the ground was.

There were no views to entertain the mind - just nothingness. Over nine million square kilometers of it.

The boys spoke at length the first day, the topics of conversation ranging from the recollections of their past to stories of their recent. Some of these were ones you’d already heard from your cousin that they were more than happy to revisit. The occasional argument broke out about the particulars of the events, one saying this while the other said that, the two of them squawking like ruffled geese that refused to secede territory to the other.

Kyle once looked back at you as if expecting your input to be a tiebreaker, something that genuinely made you laugh at the ridiculousness of it as you reminded him that at no point had you ever been to Cambrai nor did you understand the logistics of how to take apart and rebuild an SMLE.

So far as your own input to the discussions, you left most of that to the men to engage with you. It wasn’t as if you were being antisocial - hard to attempt with two chatterboxes for company - but you spent more time being an active listener than a willing participant. In truth, it was nice to turn your brain off for a bit and be swept away by the tales they’d spun of their times together.

How many nights had you spent curled up in the parlor, legs tucked up under you with a glass of port in your hand while Kyle whiled away the midnight hours stirring your imagination of the many things he’d seen out there in the wide open world? His voice became a soothing balm on evenings where sleep eluded you, taking over for the comfort provided by your father after his untimely passing years prior. You would never object to a recital from him, certainly not now when it was aiding to take your mind off the harsh unimpeded sun battering down on your group.

What really surprised you was the amount you found yourself enjoying the rougher Scottish lilt of your other companion. There was a brashness in the way Johnny spoke compared to your cousin that could be borderline offensive to the ear at times, but it was oddly refreshing to hear the candidness of someone who hadn’t grown up afraid to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. And the man had charm for days that came so naturally to him you could brush off anything that left his lips with an exasperated but secretly fond sigh.

Johnny tried numerous times to drag out your thoughts on certain matters pertaining to things you might have some knowledge or experience in, but more often than not you didn’t take the bait to start up a conversation, not even when the topics turned less ‘civilized’.

You weren’t a prude. Whilst you had no experience of your own to speak of, you were certainly educated by this point in time of the way life goes that certain subjects and suggestions didn’t rattle you the way it had in your youth upon first discovery. And swearing was a bad habit you picked up as well if the occasion called for it.

So despite Johnny’s best attempts to shock you into giving him some sort of response he could work off of, you didn’t bat an eye at his crass language.

You ignored the way his eyes lost a bit of their luster every time you shrugged off his attempts, though he lost none of the determination to sway you otherwise. It wasn’t until Kyle took sympathy - on you or Johnny, you couldn’t say - and steered it back to other topics that Johnny relented and went back to their own merry prattle.

Part of you felt bad at your treatment towards Johnny, but there was still a small nagging in your gut that kept reminding you there was a dangerous man hiding behind that dazzling smile.

Did you think he was going to do something untoward in the middle of the night to either you or Kyle? No. He’d proven as much the two times he’d saved you from a premature end. But it didn’t feel right to be fraternizing with someone who only a few days prior had been locked up in a Cairo prison for crimes that hadn’t even been addressed by him yet.

Just because he was kind didn’t erase the fact that he was a felon.

Still, despite your reservations on the man, by the time you all stopped for the night and passed around rations for your supper, the animals grazing on nearby fauna as you settled down into your own spaces, you found yourself longing to get back on the camel if only for the simplicity of getting lost in his oddly enchanting brogue.

You couldn’t sleep. You’d been trying for the better part of an hour now, but at every turn the concept seemed to have eluded you. By all accounts you should’ve had a better time of it than the previous night, equipped as you were now for the next days travel through the desert; a colorful sleeping mat providing a protective layer between you and the hard rocky ground, your rolled up bag propped under your head for support, a weaved blanket warding the chill off your bones. Even the light of the smoldering campfire was helping to ease your nerves of being out in the middle of nowhere. But you were lacking the exhaustion of last night even with the added ache in your body from a full day’s ride on camelback.

You could practically feel your joints creak in protest as you sat up from your prone position, pulling your dress down over your legs as you brought your knees up to your chest to sit more comfortably. Wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, you took note of your cousin asleep on his own mat opposite the fire, flayed out on his back snoring quietly. Your other companion lounged back against his own bag, half upright with one leg sprawled out in front of him and the other knee bent. A book rested propped up on the latter, a pencil in his hand as he kept his attention on the pages in front of him.

You watched him quietly for a few moments, lost in thought of nothing really tangible. Merely caught up in observing the way his writing instrument flowed across the paper.

“Have a curious habit fer starin’, don’tcha hen?”

It startles you out of your stupor, lifting your gaze to his face to find him still focused on whatever it is he’s working on. You made sure to keep your voice down so as not to rouse Kyle.

“I could spend my time counting the grains of sand if you’d prefer.”

That garnered a small smirk to his face, something that warmed your insides even if he had yet to glance over at you. “If ye like. Not gonna judge a lass fer her choice in hobbies.”

“Says the man judging me for people watching.”

Johnny paused his writings as he considered your words, nodding his head in a way that suggests he knows when he’s been beaten. “Fair ‘nough.” He placed his pencil between the pages of his journal like a bookmark, closing it and setting it off to the side. It’s only then that he finally lifts his gaze to yours. Even in the shadow of the night, there’s a flame inside those eyes that has nothing to do with the one flickering in the middle of camp. “Gather yer havin’ a hard time sleepin’?”

“Legs are too sore to get comfortable,” you grumble out with a small grimace, fully aware of the throbbing on the inside of your thighs now that you were paying attention to it again. “Not used to having them spread that far apart for so long.”

It was only when Johnny suddenly and violently barked out a bout of laughter that you realized the unintended double meaning to your statement, ducking your head as your face began to heat in mortification. It also had you cringing at his volume, fully aware of the other member of your party slumbering nearby.

“Don't wake Kyle,” you scolded softly despite your embarrassment, glancing that way to make sure his sleep remained undisturbed.

“Not tae worry, hen. Man sleeps like a wee bairn if given the chance. Ye’d be surprised the things our ears are trained ta pick up on. If he needed tae be awake, only then would he be.”

He stated it so matter of factly that it gave you pause. It was weird hearing the person you grew up knowing talked about in that kind of light, one tinted with a red hue that made you ponder how much you really knew him nowadays. You’d seen the effect of war on the men who came home, deceived at first into thinking that your cousin had been spared the crippling memories when he first waltzed through your door looking as polished as always. Once the sheer joy at your cousin’s homecoming softened, it was then you realized there were shadows lurking behind those big brown eyes you’d never seen before.

But what if what happened to him wasn't the only reason for his changes? Maybe it was more than trauma that turned the gorgeous smile into something with a subtle bite.

Taking a look at his relaxed sleeping form, you weren't sure how many molecules were left of the boy who once yanked your pigtails, broken down and remade into something maybe not befitting this kinder world anymore.

“Sometimes I feel like a different man came home to me,” you confided softly, Johnny quiet and still as he allowed you your space to vent. “I know it’s not fair of me to have expected him to return untouched by battle when I’ve seen so many others shaken to their very core at experiences they still won’t give words to. But it’s like there’s a whisper of a thing prowling beneath his skin that occasionally slithers out to take many forms. Sometimes it’s sadness and grief swimming at the bottom of a bottle. Other times its words sharp as knives spat out and guarded behind bruised knuckles. I’ll look at my cousin and not know if I’m talking to the man I left behind or the creature that remains.”

It was a hard thing to admit out loud - this weight you carried with you. Even odder still was the fact that you were sharing your innermost thoughts with a man you’d had the scantest of conversation with prior to this. What was it about him that made words spill unbidden from your lips that you’d hardly acknowledged yourself?

“Ah’ll not try tae explain the complexities of war tae ye, hen, but when ya send a man tae greet his God there’s a sliver of yer soul that goes with ‘em.”

You’re instantly drawn back to him as he speaks, expecting to see him burning a hole right through you with the intense truth behind his words, but finding him engrossed back in whatever project he’d taken up in his book. It’s almost like there’s something in his eyes he doesn’t want you to see, revealing it to the pages instead. You’re being spared from something that you have no clue what it is.

“Garrick is a fierce fighter, one ah’m glad tae have mah back in any sort of danger ye can fathom. Comparatively, he’s also one o’ the most easy goin’ blokes ah’ve had the pleasure ta serve with. Has a good head on his shoulders, that one. The lad can ease even the most ruffled o’ feathers and leave ye wit’ the biggest grin tae grace yer face in ages. Ah owe him fer more than jus’ the skin off mah back.”

You knew exactly what he meant. After the death of your parents, Kyle had been instrumental in keeping all the broken pieces of your heart from fracturing even further. Curious to think the man who was currently heaping praise on your cousin was also the same man Kyle wrote home about in such high regard.

“From what I’ve gathered, you seem to have a certain gift for doing that yourself.”

The small smirk that appeared on his face seemed to have cleared away whatever cobwebs he’d collected on his soul, eyes full of mirth as he looked to lighter subjects - and you. “Warmed up tae me now, ‘ave ye lass?”

“Didn’t need warming up when we were never chilly in the first place.”

“Not from where ah’ve been standin’.”

“That’s not true. I–” The look he gave you sunk deep into your bones and spoke volumes, having the decency to avert your gaze as he pried out the truth from your attempted denial. “You didn’t exactly make the best first impression is all…”

Glancing up at his heavy sigh, you watched him rake his fingers through the long strands of his mohawk for a few moments as he collected his thoughts into words. “Cannae fault ye fer that. Must’ve appeared like a right scoundrel tae ya. Dinnae mean tae upset ye so badly, hen. Ah’dve much rathered our first meetin’ have happened someplace more befittin’ a warmer introduction.”

You figured it was as good a time as any to inquire as to the particulars of his incarceration, having learned nothing from your cousin about the subject when pestered. Part of you couldn’t deny being nervous as to his answer - if he would even give you one.

You kept your voice soft as you implored him for some reason not to think the worst of him. “What happened, Johnny…? What put you in there?”

“Defendin’ a lass’s honor.”

His unexpected response gave you pause, finding yourself sitting up a little bit straighter at the seriousness in his tone. Given his nature, you weren’t so much surprised to find a brawl landed him behind bars. It was the noble reasoning to his actions that had you reevaluating your views on the man.

“Stumbled out o’ the gin joint one night after comin’ back from a job. Happened upon a bloke overpowerin’ a poor thing on mah way out the door. Gave the fucker the privilege o’ findin’ out wha’ happens when the tables turn and yer not the one wit’ the power anymore.” He held his head up higher as he went on. “Two broken ribs, shattered patella, fractured jaw, dislocated shoulder, black eye, punctured lung, and a feedin’ tube. Copper said it was assault. I said it was re-learnin’ manners.”

His eyes held no trace of deceit, but there was undeniable pride in himself at what he’d done. Not a single ounce of remorse shined through - just pure sated venom. He might have named himself a predator, but Johnny wasn’t a mere coyote out to stalk the wandering herd of sheep for stragglers.

He was the livestock guardian dog who came back home with a reddened maw and chunks of flesh between his teeth.

It curled something within you as you took him in, the weight of past grievances off your chest that had kept you from truly acknowledging his character. He may have been a little rougher around the edges compared to the gentlemen you normally kept company with, but how many times had those knobby knuckles been split wide on the face of a man who deserved it?

“Gonna make ye think a lil’ better of me now, lass?”

You considered him for a moment. “I think I’m finally getting a clearer picture of the man Kyle always claimed you to be.”

There was something akin to subtle relief in the look Johnny gave you, the way his shoulders minutely untensed in previous preparation for a different verdict. You didn't think your opinion of him would have mattered so much, though you supposed most people didn't want to be viewed negatively by your peers.

You didn't try to dig into a further reasoning beyond that.

“You know, he would prattle on about you all the time.” It was easier for you to stare into the fire as you spoke of your cousin’s ramblings, feeling odd recounting such things to his actual person. “He’d write me letters almost every day if he could. Said it was for my own peace of mind to let me know he was still breathing, but I think he was also reassuring himself of that notion as well. He often wanted to chat about home, a distraction from everything and a way to dodge the questions I fielded him concerning his own life. But he also spoke of his adventures out in the real world. Heard about the mischief you lot entangled yourselves in all the time.”

There was a fondness to your smile as you recalled certain tales of misbehavior, numerous as they were. “I know he must’ve sugar coated things for my benefit more often than not, but what he did share with me…” You shook your head in mild exasperation. “How the two of you survived with only a single brain cell between you I’ll never know.”

“Ah’m an upstandin’ citizen, hen.” There was a twinkle in those sapphire hues as he spread his arms wide in playful boastfulness. “Couldnae find a scrap of funny business in me if ye tried.”

The chuckle in his voice was infectious, a giggle bubbling up from your throat making its way past your lips and into your speech. “Oh really?” You challenged, “Then what say you about the incident involving the Mark IV and that bottle of Macallan?”

Johnny scoffed. “Rust bucket was highly volatile after sufferin’ heavy damage durin’ a previous skirmish. Minor malfunction in the tank’s firin’ mechanism led to a unexpected implosion.”

“Interesting way of saying you dropped a stick of dynamite in a freshly downed bottle of single malt whisky and left it in the center console to go boom.”

He didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed through that cheeky smirk. It was a good look on him. “Lad’s gotta find a way tae keep morale up in the troops, hen. What’s a harmless bit o’ merrymakin’ between comrades if it means givin’ us a well earned respite from combat?”

“And that time you and Kyle snuck into a German occupied hotel in Brussels to avoid sleeping out in that deluge?” You’d had some choice words for your cousin in that fervently written reply.

“Simple reconnaissance mission.”

“Mmhmm.” Wow. The audacity to say that with a straight face…

“Ye know, yer not the only one familiar with the other, hen.” It was a change of subject mainly to get the heat back off of him, but it did its intended purpose as your interest was piqued. “Couldnae stop hearin’ Kyle bletherin’ on about his precious dolly back home. Made the lads jealous fer havin’ such a pretty bird, even if ye were related.”

You squirmed in your seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear that you proceeded to twirl around your finger as a minor distraction. It made you strangely uncomfortable to hear yourself be spoken of like that - not at the fact Kyle shared things about you with the others. Moreso the way he did. “I’m afraid my cousin has probably put me on too high of a pedestal then. I’m far less interesting than he would have undoubtedly led you all to believe.”

That must not have been the response Johnny was expecting from you. There was genuine puzzlement as he glanced you up and down, almost checking to see if he was addressing the right woman. “Didnae think one such as yerself was never taught how tae take a compliment, hen. Yer much more than ye seem to realize.”

To be fair, up until now you were confident you knew how to take one as well. It was part of being out in society; knowing how to dole out false modesty at praises while simpering behind a fan as fancied lords did their best peacock impressions in an effort to win your favor. You’d never been overflowing with suitors in your youth, but you’d eagerly smiled and blushed while returning their flattering remarks.

‘How accomplished you are at dancing, my lady.’ ‘What remarkable needlework you’ve created!’ ‘Your skin is positively radiant. What cosmetics do you use?’

This felt different though. It was easy to impress people whose whole livelihood was dedicated to the art of faking being impressed. Amongst the people who did something that actually mattered, all those years spent mastering the arts of elocution and poise were paltry in comparison. What good does perfecting a chain stitch or curtsey do in the real world?

“I was brought up to be the very model of a well bred enchanting heiress; hardly a lifestyle made for excitement or spontaneity. Of course there were my studies in Egyptology that were all self taught, but even there I'm much more a phantom floating through the halls of the Cairo museum in search of new knowledge than someone of actual importance to the place. I’ve never been one for real adventures. Ask Kyle. He was always the one dragging me out on some silly thing or another.” Much to the displeasure of your parents.

“Only ‘cause he wanted tae give ye the things ye always dreamed of but never let yerself ‘ave.”

That caught you off guard - not to mention it didn't make much sense in the first place considering how many times you’d objected to Kyle’s ventures before you predictably gave in to his fervent harassing.

Your silence gave Johnny the chance to elaborate at your quizzical expression.

“Look… yer a proper lady, hen, and there's nothing wrong wit’ embracing that part of ye. Ye should never feel ashamed of yer sex or how ye were raised fer a world much different than most. But ye would think up such grand ideas knowin’ full well ye’d never get the chance tae experience them yerself and it broke the poor lad’s heart. Ye were a willin’ participant to a way of livin’ that kept ye from actually livin’. Garrick just had the guts and half a brain tae put action ta yer silly imaginin’s, even if ye dinnae realize he was doin’ it at the time.” Johnny shifted his posture to get more comfortable, intertwining his fingers and resting them on his abdomen. “So far as ah'm aware, ye were the mastermind behind all yer youthful endeavors.”

That wasn't true. I mean, there was no denying that Kyle had taken up a massive part in a lot of your formative years, playing pretend and going along with the stories you crafted in your mind. The pair of you were thick as thieves whenever one of your families made the long trip to visit each other. It was easy to admire the way he moved through the world so effortlessly, a perfect blend of casual arrogance and easygoing confidence. He was everything a well brought up man should be, only with a mischievous streak that often got you in trouble by association.

It was a well known fact that you were the innocent one in all his schemings.

There was that time he…

Or maybe when…

…but what about…

Suddenly you were sat there staring blankly at your lap, mentally combing through memories of your childhood trying to justify all the times you and your cousin wandered off only to be scolded at the end for something he roped you into participating in. However, each time you peered closer at the unfolding events of the day, you were finding it harder to argue that you’d been as passive as you'd always believed.

You’d constantly been praised growing up by the adults for being a sweet, demure, amiable good girl. Kyle was the one who was the delinquent of your duo… wasn’t he?

Sensing your confusion, Johnny offered up an example to help your brain along. ”How’s about when Garrick put ye up on the handlebars o’ his bicycle and ye nearly crashed into a carriage on yer way down the hill? Wouldnae ‘ave happened if ye hadn’t opened yer mouth minutes earlier and asked how fast the bloody thing could go.”

The temptation to go over and kick your cousin awake just so he could tell Johnny otherwise was strong, but he kept talking before you had the chance to move from your bedroll. “Then there was the time ya snuck into yer da's study tae steal a cigar because ye were upset when he denied yer request tae try a puff. Said it wasnae proper for ladies ta partake.”

You recalled that night quickly, Kyle fiddling with a small set of tools in his hand that he procured from god knows where to unlock the top drawer of your father's desk and steal one of his finest from his collection. It had ended up being a ghastly affair, choking down smoke as your cousin laughed at your inability to handle it the way he could.

You'd been fifteen at the time and hadn't touched one since.

But that had been on a dare, hadn’t it?

You scrambled for something to latch onto as the uncomfortable truth of your once accurate beliefs stared you in the face, hidden pieces of your spirit put on display. There must be something–

The garden wall.

When your cousin conned you into climbing it with him and you scratched up your legs on the thorny rose bush at the bottom. You would’ve been four at the time to his six. Mother had been so cross as she tended to your bleeding cuts while Kyle’s father gave him a stern reprimand in the other room. That had been the first day you’d met and set the tone for the rest of your lives.

The incident that started it all.

Voice nearly teetering on hysterics, you held tight to your victory as proof of your innocence. “He was–” For a moment you forgot the subject in question was still dozing ten feet across from you, lowering your voice down to a harsh whisper. “He was the one who wanted to go over the garden wall!”

“Because ye complained the wall stole yer sunset and ye wanted it back!” His stare held no room for argument - no escape to try to back away from.

And just like that, the shimmering veil draped over your remembrance fell away as a long buried part of that day came to the surface.

An afternoon spent outside playing in the grass, darting between trees and through rows of flowerbeds, your cousin at your heels. Your mother fussing over the dirt on your hem while your aunt placated her with a chuckled ‘let them be children’. The disappointment of the darkening sky signaling the end of your visitation.

‘But I wanna keep playing!’ You pouted with a quivering lower lip and watery eyes, not quite ready to leave your new friend and return home. ‘Stupid wall. Why’d it have to take away the sun…?’

A readied hand reaching down for yours. ‘Then let’s go get it back.’

Oh.

Johnny watched the emotions change on your face, letting you stew in them as long held perceptions suddenly gained a new clarity. It was quiet after that, the only sounds to be made were the camels' occasional gruntings in their sleep and the soft crackling of dry wood burning away in the campfire. It seemed you had a lot of things in your past to come to terms with.

“How come I don’t remember it that way?” There was a tinge of frustration at how faulty your memory apparently was, but it was more out of sadness than fury.

He shrugged, though not without a look of sympathy. “Ye were young. And Garrick didnae want ya tae feel like ye weren't bein’ a dutiful daughter. So he gave ye the push and took the fall himself. But ye cannae look me in the eye and tell me the bumps and bruises hadnae been worth it fer all the smiles it gave ya.”

You didn't quite know how to process all that; the fact that a complete stranger had more insight into your life than you who actually lived it. Your voice soft, “He told you all that?”

“Aye, he did. Feels like there's not much I dunnae already ken about ye, hen.” Johnny reached down to where he’d discarded his book from earlier, opening it up to the bookmarked page before inspecting his writing utensil with a frown, apparently finding it wanting.

You scoffed at his words even as part of you started to believe him, hard not to with the evidence he laid at your feet. But even the gesture itself was more of a soft exhale than something mean. ”I hardly think it counts when all the stories you’ve heard are just ones parroted about Kyle that I happened to be involved in.”

“There’s a field beyond Garrick’s property in Kent where he’d always find ye in the summer playin’ amongst the Meadowsweet as a wee lass. Ye liked to weave it into yer hair and pretend ye were the Lady Guinevere waitin’ fer her Lancelot.”

The look of utter surprise on your face must’ve been a sight to see, but Johnny wasn’t paying you any mind, taking a small blade from his boot to the blunted tip of his pencil as he started unravelling the particulars of your life. There was a fondness in the crinkle of his eyes as if it was a beloved memory of his own rather than one of yours.

Why were these the kinds of stories Kyle told him about you and why did Johnny find them to be worth enough to remember them?

He continued while he sharpened. “Ye once spilled cherry juice all over yer new spring frock after sneakin’ intae the pantry fer a bite ta eat before a picnic wit’ some o’ yer parents friends. Ye were such a sensitive bairn that yer da’ had only ta look at ye wrong fer ye ta turn tae tears and beg forgiveness. Ye’ve avoided the fruit ever since, but yer a right fiend fer strawberries.”

”The Early Dynastic and their burgeonin’ household religious practices are amongst yer favorite aspects of ancient history, but ye froth at the mouth o’er anythin’ concernin’ the mysteries o’ the First Intermediate that were lost tae time and pillagin’.”

”Yer allergic tae cats, but ye pet ‘em anyways. Got grounded fer a week after yer ma’ discovered ye’d made a shrine tae the god Bes in yer wardrobe and were prayin’ tae that every night instead. Yer decent at piano, but where ye really took a shine was in yer drawings. Seen some of the work ya tucked away in the pages of Garrick’s letters.” Johnny finally glanced up from his whittling at that mention, a glint of something in his eyes at your stunned expression. “‘Ave tae say, lass, ye can color me a might bit impressed.”

He was starting to scare you with the knowledge he possessed, but not in a way that gave you any true fright. Quite the opposite in fact. The butterflies had never been quite so prevalent in your stomach.

“Yer inexperience twists ya tae be a bit unsure of yerself even when ye ‘ave the skills tae get by jus’ fine. It takes ye a minute, but when ye finally find yer voice Lord help the poor lad who finds himself swiftly charmed outta hearth and home. Got a dangerous pair o’ eyes and a honey sweet tongue, ye do.”

With every fact he spewed, it seemed like the entire point of this conversation for the past few minutes was to pick you apart thread by thread until you felt more bare than you had when you were sopping wet in a translucent nightgown for anyone's eyes to feast upon.

“Ye convinced yet, hen?” The teasing glint in his eyes should’ve been outlawed.

“You sure know an awful lot about my life for someone who’s never been a part of it,” came your response, wrapping the blanket around your form tighter as if to ward off his deeper inspections into your world.

Johnny chuckled at that, pencil finally returning to paper as he went about with whatever it was prior that your presence had interrupted. “Cannae help it if talks o’ sweet lassies back home were a welcome distraction from moldy rations and the bitter chill on harsh winter nights. Blokes in the trenches fought fer the raunchy pinups back home and the honor o’ makin’ wives outta the young nurses who cared fer their wounds. But me and Garrick knew who we were fightin’ for.”

“Not even your own family?” You meant your words to be more ribbing, something to take the weight off your chest after all the focus being on you.

But he didn’t reciprocate the tone.

“Nah, hen. Twas yer smile ah was protectin’ each time ah fired mah rifle.”

You thought he’d shocked you enough with his bluntness to last you a lifetime, but you couldn’t have been more wrong as he flipped through to the back of his book, pulling something out that had been wedged in the creases and flipping it to face towards you.

It was old and worn at the edges, smudges of dirt and water damage evident in the way it crinkled. But there was no mistaking the face staring back at you on the small grainy black and white pocket sized polaroid.

You remembered when it was taken, the camera a recent purchase of Kyle’s on a holiday in Marsa Matrouh. You’d traveled there with your families on one of your cousin’s leaves, giving him something to help take his mind off of the horrors he’d witnessed and remember the peace he was fighting for.

You’d been out in the sun all day, basking on the rocks along the shoreline as the Mediterranean waters lapped at your heels. Your hair was still damp and stringy, coarse with salt as it shifted in the summer breeze. Kyle had been taking pictures all day, but this was the first time he’d pulled out his camera since you all went swimming, dressed in your newest swimwear all the way from New York with an exposed neckline and a mid-thigh length skirt. It had taken some adjustment on your part getting used to being so revealed, but after your mother ordered it from a magazine and you put it on for the first time you couldn’t help but feel lovely in the garment.

Kyle had caught you off guard when he snapped it, a wild carefree smile on your face as you turned to face him when he called your name. What the camera didn’t show was the ensuing chaos that took place immediately afterwards as you ran after him for having taken that without your consent, the pair of you sprinting along the shoreline in good fun until he suddenly halted to avoid stepping on a crab, causing you to run smack into him and bowling the two of you over with uncontained laughter.

You knew he’d developed the film before he left, but never what ended up happening to the snapshot. It could’ve been placed in a box in the attic for all you were aware. Who’d have thought you’d come across it almost ten years later in the ownership of someone like Johnny, tucked away in the pages of a book for safe keeping.

“That’s who ah was endeared to. The soft-hearted lass wit’ more courage than she realized.”

Intense was the only way to describe him.

There was a weight to his stare that bordered on indecent. You were mostly covered from view by the blanket draped over your form, but it wasn’t your gown he was undressing with his eyes.

It was your soul - cracked open and exposed to feast upon like a vulture.

Ravenous in his hunger, there wasn’t a meaty morsel that went untouched. Johnny’s eyes were the most expressive you’d had the pleasure to get lost inside, dark cerulean orbs that swept in like a rogue wave and dragged you helplessly beneath the surface gasping for air. It was his one weakness; his one tell. You could learn everything you needed to know about him if you were only capable enough to figure it out. It was an experience unlike anything you’d ever encountered - and, gods, it was just a look.

If this revelation about the picture had come about yesterday instead, you had no doubt you would have promptly demanded he return the precious item to your charge. Now, it only did things to your insides thinking of how many times your visage might have kept him company on lonely nights.

As he tucked the picture back inside his book and flipped to his previous pages, he turned the conversation towards something related but a welcome change of subject. “Speakin’ o’ honey, exactly how did ye get me outta jail, lass? Ye never did say.”

Oh god. Of all the topics he could’ve picked. Johnny really enjoyed seeing you squirm thinking about how ‘bad’ your behavior had been lately, didn't he?

”My father owned his own shipping company that dealt with the transport of goods and wares, ancient artifacts included. Or, at least, he did… up until his passing. It’s now run by one of his old business partners, but his name is still included in the title.” Thank god for that or else your plan would’ve never worked. “I convinced the prison warden that you were a treasure hunter of world renown and that I had been sent there with my colleague on behalf of the CEO to allow your release - in exchange for a handsome sum upfront that would be paid again once you’d retrieved a very precious ceremonial headdress that was stolen from one of the shipments earlier that week.”

He cocked a brow at your explanation, the gears turning as he followed along with your simplification of the encounter. “And he jus’ believed ya? Without proof nor payment?”

The smug look you gave him felt very satisfying indeed. “I told him I’d lost the official documents stating such when my purse had been stolen by a local street rat on our way there. Even included waterworks for added discomfort.”

In your experience, men didn’t know what to do with a crying woman. Most just wanted to shut you up or make you go away as soon as possible.

Mother would’ve been proud of your acting skills.

You could see Johnny putting the pieces together in his mind, even if he was skeptical at the loose threads you left hanging. “How did ya manage tae get yer hands on official lookin’ documents?”

Weirdly enough, that had been the easiest part of the whole ruse once you’d gotten the language right.

“I never cleared out my father's study after he passed. All the important papers he’d kept on his desk were removed, but the drawers are still full of blank pages of letterhead - as was his personal seal he used. So long as the warden doesn’t look too closely into the present day chain of command at the company, he’ll never have any reason to suspect he’s been made a fool of.”

That earned a barked laugh that filled you with joy, his gaze tilted back to the sky as he shook his head at the heavens. “Fuckin’ hell, lass. Yer a right clever one, ye are. Why ye might jus’ be the most dangerous one ‘ere.”

“Wait a mo’.” He interrupted his own amusement once he realized you’d left out an important part of this whole operation. “Ye didnae take the funds fer mah freedom from the company too, did ye lass?”

There was a pregnant pause where you debated about lying, but you weren’t sure you could last under his careful scrutiny. “...I may have reached into my own coffers to front up the payments.”

Six hundred pounds sterling. Well, technically thirty six thousand Egyptian would be more accurate since that’s what was agreed upon. But he didn’t need to know just how much his pardon had cost you. Granted at the time you weren't exactly thrilled to be forking over such a large amount for a ruffian, but you’d considered the investment and decided it was well worth parting with a few coins.

Johnny could have rivaled your father with how much he masterfully emulated that reproachful countenance that only someone who’d been half responsible for your existence could have managed. You’d been on the wrong end of that look enough times to know there was a lecture coming on you’d rather not have. “Hen–”

“Sooo, Mr. MacTavish,” you smoothly interrupted with a smile of perfectly faked innocence, “when you’re not incarcerated for bashing in the skulls of brigands and ne’er do wells, what have you been up to since leaving the service?”

He held your gaze for a few moments longer, immune to your batted eyelashes until he looked away with a huffed out sigh, relenting as he must’ve come to the conclusion that it wasn’t worth the oxygen.

“Ye weren’t too far from the truth when ye told the warden ah was a treasure hunter. Sometimes ah spend mah days scroungin’ through desolate areas in search of valuable commodities, others ah sell myself out fer hire doin’ mercenary work. Not the most excitin’ occupation dependin’ on the job, but it pays good coin.”

“Hard to believe you didn’t stick around with the military.” Kyle had mentioned that by the time he’d retired that Johnny still hadn’t, but that was years ago now.

“Well ah stayed wit’ it far past mah initial recruitment contract. Only been out a wee bit longer than two years this October. Earned myself quite a bit o’ chest candy fer mah troubles.” Considering he’d joined up the same time Kyle did, that meant almost ten years fighting in His Majesty’s army. “In truth, ah didnae mind the bloodshed; ah was the best at what ah did and took pride in mah ability ta complete the missions too dangerous fer others tae endure. But when the people I was loyal tae stopped bein’ loyal ta me...”

The clench of his jaw, the ice in his veins bleeding into the blue of his eyes; you could only guess what happened to make a decorated war hero and career soldier jump ship.

Glancing down at his hand, you could see the way it white knuckled around the fragile pencil, almost anticipating a snap that you were surprised somehow never came. Even when he was blistering from whatever wrongdoings the bigwigs at the top had done to cause offense, he was still aware of and in control of his own strength.

“That’s how ah ken the city is real, lass.” He spoke up shortly after. “Because mah commandin’ officers sent me there tae die wit’ the rest of mah squadron over pipe dreams o’ golden halls and buried treasure. But when we got there… all we found was sand and blood.”

There's a stillness as the words settle in your bones, a warning of events yet to come. But thankfully it doesn't last as he blinks away the shadows of bygone times, half turning around to fiddle with the bag he’d been using to rest his back against.

“That reminds me,” Johnny perks up as he rummages around in one of the pockets of his rucksack, his previous frosty disposition left in the past and giving you a case of emotional whiplash.

“Found this,” you barely managed to catch the small object he sent flying your way, fumbling it before securing it in your grasp, “amongst my stuff. Garrick must've pinched it for ya before jumpin’ overboard.”

Your attention turned to the thing clasped in your hold, letting out a jubilant shriek of delight that rustled your cousin but who otherwise remained at rest. Turning it over in your hands, you couldn’t believe you were somehow reunited with the ancient metal box that you were sure you’d lost to the river. You practically sobbed in relief as you hugged it to your chest as if it were a beloved stuffed animal, completely ignoring the amused (slightly judgemental) regard coming from your travel companion.

“Now Dr. Price doesn’t have to carve out my entrails and feed them to the Nile!” You cheered with bright eyes and an elated smile, making quick work stuffing the box in with your other belongings. For a moment it appeared like Johnny was wanting to question just what exactly you meant by that proclamation, but thought better of it as he returned to his scribblings, merely shaking his head with something muttered under his breath.

“Best ye try tae get back ta sleep, hen. I ken we’re not doin’ much, but the desert has a way o’ sappin’ yer energy and ye’ll be comfier noddin’ off ‘ere than on the back o’ a camel.”

That you didn’t doubt, practically feeling the crick in your neck already at the image that conjured up.

“Alright, be that way.” You rolled your eyes with a teasing huff. ”I know a dismissal when I’ve heard one...”

Johnny gave you one more glance with a quirked lip at your cheekiness, something soft around the edges hidden within his sight. “G’night, hen...”

Giving him another smile, you situated yourself back on your sleeping mat so as to be laying on your right side facing the fire. The glow wasn’t too harsh on your eyes, and truthfully it also gave you the excuse to glance over at your companion every once in a while. You knew he had one ear open while he worked, keenly aware of his surroundings as he kept guard over your small group. If the previous night was anything to go by, he’d be waking up Kyle in a few hours to take over sentinel duty so that he could get some rest as well.

Hearing the charcoal gently scrape across the parchment as he engrossed himself in whatever his project was, your eyelids grew heavy as you allowed the ambiance of his scribblings to lull you into the pleasant hum of unconsciousness.

The next morning brought with it a change of atmosphere within the group.

Where formerly you had only actively engaged with your cousin over breakfast, that was no longer the case, giving Johnny a small tentative smile as if you were still unsure that last night's interaction had properly smoothed out the wrinkles between the pair of you. Your fears were abated when he returned it enthusiastically, tossing you a wink for good measure that had you feeling giddy at the playful gesture.

Unaware of your previous heart to heart, Kyle glanced between the two of you in befuddlement to a question that went unanswered. You merely greeted your cousin with a peck on the cheek and a lasting hug you didn’t care to explain, remembering Johnny’s words only hours ago at just how much he’d been caring for you to a degree beyond what you’d ever realized.

Falling into step with Johnny felt just as innate as it was with Kyle, years of getting to know one another condensed into a single conversation.

Admittedly it had thrown you off to hear him speak so candidly about your history the night before. It was odd listening to him recite the stories better than you remembered them, the unfiltered truth about your personality that you’d never suspected. But you ultimately ended up not minding his thorough knowledge of your life (god knows what else your cousin told him that he didn’t mention). If your youthful recollections granted him with any small measure of escape from the dark claustrophobic trenches day in and day out then you were honored it had been your picture that had provided him with a little comforting light.

Touching was something you were still adjusting to though; the small casual hand on your lower back as Johnny scooted around you to tend to the camels. A lot of that had to do with the fact that it only made it harder to tamper down the slightly inappropriate thoughts that began to spring up as of late. It was easier to be physically attracted to a man you disliked. There wasn’t any risk of actually falling for him because you knew in the end that he was too much of a prick for there to be any real connection. A handsome face was all he’d ever be and that had been reassuring.

Which made it a bit unfair that he’d ended up being a really. great. guy.

Did he have a bit of a temper? Sure. But so far you’d only heard of it being directed towards people who deserved it. How could you be upset that he’d put a man in the hospital for trying to hurt an innocent woman? You didn’t gravitate towards violence, but you certainly were familiar with it when your cousin would come home with a disheveled appearance and bloody knuckles.

Looks, charisma, hard working, intelligent, dedicated. They might as well have wrapped him in a bow and placed him on your doorstep on Christmas Eve. If you would’ve had any female companions to gossip with on this pilgrimage then one John MacTavish would have been the only topic of any interest.

Still, you did your best not to pay any heed to the swirling vortex of bad decisions clouding your brain. You weren’t some cheap harlot falling at the feet of any ol’ fella who was hungry enough to rake his eyes over you. This wasn’t a tropical vacation; this was work. Dangerous, harrowing work. And Johnny was both your guide and your cousin's best friend. Not to mention you were familiar with his type from hours being paraded in front of society's elite.

You’d attended balls and soirees full of the opposite sex all hunting for a prize to bring home and breed to carry on their legacies. A few well placed compliments and they’d be racing you down the aisle of holy matrimony.

Johnny was certainly just another heartbreaker through and through - a game you would not let yourself be swept up in no matter how tempting the reward.

It was easier to be distracted from your thoughts once you involved yourself in the discussions taking place amongst the group, far more interested in joining in now that your reservations had been proven false. It was all easy smiles and shared laughter as you slowly began to grow endeared to the Scot the more he carried on.

You were delighted to discover he had two younger sisters and a large extended family that he was exceptionally close with. He didn’t speak of his siblings with complaint either, only true fondness as he recounted how much he’d looked after them as the protective older brother. Johnny’s smile turned melancholic as he confessed to how much he missed them, but it softened up when he brought up the extensive collection of postcards he was constantly sending back home. He couldn’t always receive letters when his life continuously had him on the go, but with that at least he could still feel connected to his family even if they were thousands of miles away.

Johnny happily regaled you with tales of his old life back in Scotland as a ‘wee lad’. Helping out around his grandfather’s farm during the summers. His favorite home cooked meals. The local ceilidh’s with lively music and lovely lasses. An incident with law enforcement he was sworn to secrecy on for another eight years.

Each new revelation had you drawn ever more into his orbit, interested in the minute details of his life as opposed to the grand schemes he’d fall into with Kyle. They might have been mundane in comparison, but in your opinion they were vastly more important. Anyone could be an adrenaline junkie with a death wish and ambitions, but who they were in the slower quieter parts of life was more telling of their true nature.

Of course it wasn’t all just pleasant strolls down memory lane. One can always trust that boys will be boys after all. To break up the long stretches of conversation, the pair of them took to engaging in a friendly competition to see who had the worst jokes imaginable. Apparently this had become a favored pastime back in Verdun amongst the soldiers.

Each attempt had you burying your face in your hands. If you didn’t want to have to go back and fetch it afterwards you would be throwing things at their heads by now.

So it came as no surprise when at some point a crude joke was told by your cousin comparing a woman to a camel. Honestly you were more shocked it had taken this long.

“How can you tell the difference between a woman’s mouth and a camel’s?” The accompanying groan was actually not from you this time.

“Come now, Garrick. No desert puns. I thought we’d agreed that–”

“Only one of them swallows.”

Two dumbstruck heads immediately whipped in your direction, faces aghast as the illusion of chasteness melted away from their preconceived notions of their female companion. The shock was short lived however as the three of you fell into the most uncontrollable fit of laughter, howling and convulsing atop your mounts.

Kyle looked like he was trying to claw the mental image your words conjured up from his brain. “Bloody hell, dolly! I didn’t need to hear that from my cousin!”

“A lady indeed!” Came Johnny's reply, both of them struggling for air as you unexpectedly proved to them there was more to you than appearances would suggest.

You caught Johnny’s gaze as you wiped the tears from your eyes, a glimmer of approval in those sparkling sapphires that threatened to take your breath away all over again. Above all you had been rewarded with his unbridled joy and infectious laughter.

It was a sound you were quickly falling in love with.

Partway through the day, you had the unfortunate luck of finding yourselves headed towards a massive wall of brown in the distance, towering over the landscape like a rogue wave. One glance at your guide told you everything you needed to know in the stern set of his brows and hard neutral expression.

You were delving right into the heart of it.

You weren’t a stranger to sand storms, but you couldn’t say you had the pleasure of experiencing one out in an area that had no hope of shelter in which to ride it out. Your steed must have sensed the unease that gripped your emotions, starting to shuffle underneath you in distress that had a shocked gasp leave your mouth at the abruptness of his jostling. Kyle was quick to grasp your reins, making calm soothing sounds to the animal as you ran a hand along its neck with a soft ‘settle’.

When the words were finally spoken aloud that there was indeed no avoiding it, you pulled the dark piece of cloth out of one of your travel bags that the older Bedouin woman from the village had given you in case of such an event. Your hands made deft work of wrapping it around your head, securing it in the way you’d been shown to conceal most of your face. The other two did much the same, waiting for you all to finish getting settled before glancing over with a firm nod as you ushered the beasts forward towards the imposing storm in the distance.

You’d onced asked your father as you listened to one raging outside and rattling the shutters on your home just how strong he thought the winds were, wide eyed as he explained they could move as fast as a train could ride. You felt every bit of that power now.

As much as you mentally braced yourself for the experience, the physicality of the storm was quick to erode your steeled nerves. Gale force winds whipped and battered your body, your knuckles white and painful from where you gripped the pommel of the saddle to keep from falling off your steed. The miniscule grains of sand stung the small uncovered portion of your face, abrasive and irritating to the skin as you tried your best to shield your vision.

It was as unpleasant as you predicted, trusting your camel to follow along after Johnny’s when it became too much to keep your eyes open. The beasts were more than capable of braving it, blazing through unencumbered by the shifting sands even if only at a slightly slower pace. Your care was in their charge now.

You hadn’t put much faith in the gods of old, but in that moment you found yourself praying to Seth that he would calm his fury and let his storm pass swiftly. Not like it could hurt if you were wrong…

You jerked in your saddle as partway through a firm hand grasped at the meat of your bicep, head flying up to see your cousin peering at you through his own face coverings as he pointed off to the side, barely able to make out something in the distance that he led your camel away towards. Johnny was already dismounting from his own, crowding behind what you realized was a grouping of sandstone pillars that you’d never been more grateful to see.

Kyle helped you off your camel, Johnny already holding up a blanket and ushering you under as they each grasped an end, throwing it over the three of you huddled together and holding tight to keep it from being swept away into the desert. You all were winded from the exertion, Kyle mumbling something about needing a bloody break as you sat squished in between them, leaned back against the rock as you untensed. There was no way of telling how long the storm lasted or how far you’d trekked, but your limbs were sore and stiff from remaining clenched throughout the endeavor.

Thankfully Johnny had better insight than you did, motioning at the waterskin he’d fetched ahead of time that you plucked off his person. Uncapping it, you didn’t think twice before bringing the opening to his lips, watching as he tilted his head back to allow the cool liquid inside to flow down his parched throat, doing the same to Kyle shortly after. You might not have been able to help hold down the fort so to speak, but you could certainly take care of them while they protected you.

You didn't know how long you remained like that, sharing the waterskin between you three and ignoring the mildly darkened look in Johnny’s eyes every time you accidentally made eye contact while helping him drink, leaving your stomach feeling warmed. How a man could be so intense even in a situation such as this was beyond your understanding.

Nature finally took pity on you later on in the day nearing sunset, feeling the gusts lessen enough to at last push the covering off which had become weighed down by the sand that accumulated during that time. The camels looked just as unbothered as you left them, laying down nearby as you all finally got to stand at full height for the first time in what felt like ages.

There was brief talk about what to do next as Johnny corrected your course, having veered only slightly off the intended path. The sandstorm had caused you to be vastly behind, adding an extra day onto your travels that you couldn’t afford to waste. Thankfully - as Kyle pointed out - your transport had been able to rest for quite some time and should be able to carry on through the night in an effort to reach the city sooner. You weren’t exactly thrilled with the idea of having to sleep on the back of a camel tonight, but you weren’t going to argue over the sentiment when it made so much rational sense.

‘The life of an adventurer’, aye?

Whoever signed up for this life must’ve had a certain level of masochism ingrained in their psyche - you decided - in order to better deal with the curveballs and minor inconveniences that came from it. Food was eaten on the backs of your mounts that evening, an uncomfortable annoyance resulting in having nearly choked on your rations as the rocking motion of the camel had you swallowing wrong and sending you into a minor coughing fit. You took smaller bites after that, opting to have a little less than normal to balance out the risk of it happening again.

Sleeping was only a mildly better affair. You’d fallen asleep sitting upright in a high backed chair enough to know you’d be feeling it in the morning - especially considering there was nothing to support your figure as you bobbed along. Slipping in and out of a restless slumber, you were vaguely conscious of your surroundings; the gentle clomping of footfalls from the great beasts hauling you into the night, the even breaths of your companions, the soft whistle of wind throughout the valley.

At some point in your groggy state, you could've sworn your head ended up cradled by something firm yet comfortable underneath your cheek, the phantom sensation of thick fingers brushing over your strands relieving the tension in your bones. You went pliant under the calming ministrations, accompanied by gentle murmurings that you were unable to make out but sounded foreign to your ears.

You couldn’t tell if it was rooted in reality or simply a figment of the half dreamlike rest that overtook you at some point. All you knew was that waking up the next morning wasn’t as horrendous an ordeal as you’d anticipated, the joints in your neck much less creaky than if you’d have dozed off holding a book in your bedroom.

The desert was still bathed in the cool tones of the blossoming morning when your cousin nudged you awake, a hand on your shoulder to steady you as you blinked your eyes open with a yawn. A small bundle of breakfast was already being placed into your hands before you could acknowledge it, along with instructions to eat up quickly as you were almost at your destination.

That woke you up more than anything, practically shoveling the meager bits of food in your mouth much to the amusement of the others. You’d come all this way for this moment - enduring hardship and near death experiences - but it was all about to be worth it to be one of the first people to step foot into a long lost piece of ancient civilization in over three thousand years!

What if it wasn’t everything you ever dreamed of? What if the image you’d conjured in your head didn’t live up to the expectations and grandeur promised of a city as important as Hamunaptra? Your insides were twisted, the sweat on your brow having nothing to do with the climate. Nerves were dialed up to a thousand as you busied yourself with readying for the last leg of your journey.

Come hell or high water: this was it.

It took maybe another fifteen minutes further ride west before you were led down into a wide valley, becoming more anxious with every step. You weren’t allowed the peace to smother your concerns, though, as who should appear on the opposite side of the dunes than those you had last seen on the other side of the Nile.

You finally got your first look at the man they called Graves, picking him out from the rest as someone you hadn’t noticed in the mess hall on the ferry and as the one currently leading their group. By all accounts he looked a simple man; a short neatly styled haircut, a light blue button up cuffed at the elbows, a faint scar slashed across his right cheek the only hint that he’d had a life that wasn’t quite so white collared.

“MacTavish, Garrick.” A thick Texan accent rolled off his tongue with all the charm of a rattlesnake. “Ma’am.”

You were used to fake niceties, but even this man had something slithering underneath the skin that rubbed you the wrong way.

“Seems like you folks all found your way here without any issue. Even went a little native by the looks of things.” There wasn’t anything thinly veiled in the slightest as he took in your appearance, squirming uncomfortably in your seat at the implied racism despite the company he himself kept. Then again, they were all hired hands. If ‘folk like him’ ran cheaper you were sure he’d be using them instead.

Kyle flashed him a sneer so vicious you were sure he was about to drop down off his mount and give that man one hell of a beating. It also didn’t escape your notice how Johnny brought his camel up a few paces, hiding you from view of the others with an obvious glower of contempt sent their way. You almost wished Graves would attempt something just so you could see what Johnny looked like when he was ‘re-learning manners’.

But it seemed like neither of them thought it was worth the effort to respond to the instigated heckling.

A large gap in the middle separated the two factions as you all lined up facing the east. Where your group had camels, they all had horses. You were briefly jealous of the fact, but realistically you had no complaints about your own steed as you reached down to give it an affection scratch on its head.

Moments passed with no movement from anyone.

“So we just gonna sit here like morons till the sun comes up or somethin’?” The question came from one of the Americans who’d played poker with Kyle back on the deck of the ferry. ‘Hutch’ if you recalled correctly. Certainly didn’t seem to have much in the way of patience, a sentiment echoed by his compatriot.

“Just settle down, pal.” Graves placated his teammate with a slightly raised hand. “I guarantee you it’s well worth the wait.”

“Friendly reminder, gents.” It was the woman - Roze - who spoke up this time with a cocky grin. “Got a hundred bucks cash on the line. Lookin’ forward to having my pockets filled with English coin.”

Your cousin clearly hadn’t forgotten, patting his pockets in a ‘come and get it’ gesture that had the four cowboys chuckling in response.

“Get ready fer it.” Came the voice of your Scottish companion to the right, your eyes flicking between where his own were focused on the desolate landscape before you and his awaiting expression.

“For what?” you inquired.

“We’re ‘bout tae be shown the way.”

You ignored the mildly ominous undertone in Johnny’s words, turning your attention back to the view the same as the thirty or so of you gathered together.

Navy skies turned from amethyst to crimson and light sienna, the large golden sun rising up over the horizon as Ra began his day’s journey across the sky in his Mandjet Barque. Everyone on both sides sat in bated breath as it climbed ever higher, waiting for something that none of you outside your guides understood.

Scanning the flat lands to the northeast, you couldn’t possibly see how anything could be revealed when there were no shadows on the ground to hide something as large as that of a city. You had just begun to open your mouth to make some sort of comment implying the dubiousness surrounding this whole–

Wait.

…what?!

You blinked your eyes multiple times to be sure of what you were seeing, going beyond all reasonable explanation that your mind conjured up. Emerging like a ghost out in the valley, the shimmering visage of a once great realm slowly unveiled to the shock of those who bore witness. There it was - beyond all reasonable doubt. One could mistake it for a convincing mirage if it wasn’t for the way it solidified in front of you. If that wasn’t enough, you trusted your companion to have not steered you wrong. If Johnny didn’t think he was hallucinating then neither were you.

Heart pounding in your chest, blood rushing through your ears. You were positively breathless, only vaguely aware of Kyle to the left slapping at your arm in slack jawed stunned astonishment. It was comforting to know you weren’t the only one losing your mind at the moment.

All around you could hear everyone else's startled gasps, hushed voices speaking up in awe at the wonders held before their eyes.

“There it is!”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Well I’ll be...”

“The legends were true!”

“Hamunaptra.”

“‘Ere we go again.” The last comment came from Johnny, a weary sigh of resignation as he found himself once again in the presence of this place.

It amazed you how much you found yourself not giving a damn about that, selfishly uncaring to his emotions right now as you were too busy trying to keep up with the influx of your own. All those times being mocked or looked down on for daring to believe in childlike wonderment that some legends were too real to be fake were finally proven wrong. There it was as plain as daylight, holding all the mysteries of the New Kingdom if you only reached out with your fingertips and touched it.

All it took was a single shout before all hell broke loose, the men’s thoughts turning from ones full of veneration to their jangling coin purses. It startled you out of your reverie. The calls and whipping noises from the fellows across the way urging their steeds forward had your own reacting instinctively, joined by Johnny and Kyle as you found yourselves racing across the vast stretch of desert - you to claim the site first, the men to win their wager.

The speed of the animal surprised you, having grown up seeing the creatures lumbering through the city hauling goods and occasionally people. But Cairo was full of tight corners and bustling streets. This was the Sahara - wide open and free from any obstacles that could keep it from achieving its full potential. Plenty of room for a camel to catch its stride.

You’d never endured a bumpier ride.

What confused you the most was the fact that your own mount was apparently a cut above the rest, keeping pace with Johnny and Kyle as well as a small handful of horses on the other team. It breezed across the compacted sand, drawing whoops and hollers as you urged it forward. You’d put a horse at full gallop before, but this had an air of exhilaration that could only come with the heart racing promise of awaiting adventure.

Slowly but surely the others fell back from their positions until Grave’s was the only one of the rival group remaining as competition. It was clear his horse was quickly wearing out despite how brutally he whipped the creature's hide. Once he came to the same realization you did, he did the only thing a weak man knew how to do: resorting to cheap tricks.

You startled as suddenly he turned his beating cane on your own beast, making you lurch forward as the camel groaned in pain and tripped over its own legs.

“Nothin’ personal, sweetheart!” He bellowed over at you as he took another swipe.

Unfortunately for him, both Johnny and Kyle were not about to allow his actions to go unpunished.

They took the opportunity when you steered your camel away in an effort to escape the beatings, coming up alongside his horse and boxing him in. Johnny grappled the reins from Graves’ hold, Kyle wrapping his blue neckerchief around Grave’s throat as he tried to fight off their combined hostilities. The pair shared a look as they both tugged on their objectives at the same time, Johnny yanking the horse right out from under him as Kyle choked him off the saddle, sacrificing his own place as he let you and Johnny speed off in his stead.

You dared a glance over at Johnny, the most wicked grin of devilish intentions on his face as he mirrored your excitement with his own, dropping the horse's reins and calling for more speed from his own animal. But you weren’t about to let him beat you that easily, not when you had every confidence in your own ability as a rider!

It was just the two of you now - neck and neck battling it out for bragging rights. It didn’t matter at this point who won; you’d all come out victorious in the wager either way. This was just two individuals pushing each other to the limit, hearts pounding from more than just the thrill of the race as you both had trouble peeling your eyes away from the other.

The wind in your hair; the untamed wilderness consuming your spirit. This was what you’d been missing in your life - this thing that a dangerous man like Johnny could offer you.

You weren’t prepared as he reached across the space between and landed a heavy handed slap right to the back of your mount, the beast crying out as it surged forward at an unprecedented pace. You could only hold on tight, shrieking in a mixture of surprise and elation, hearing your cousin in the distance cheering you on as you approached the looming structure.

There were no words as you made it to your destination, coasting past the massive stone obelisks at the mouth of the entrance with the biggest smile, galloping down the thoroughfare and between the crumbled ruined gates of the city.

Finally, had you arrived. The lost sacred City of the Dead.

Hamunaptra.

°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°.•° ✿ °•.°•. ✿ .•°

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jadequeen88 · 2 years

Text

Watchin' You

Summary:

He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing… “Oh, fuck me sideways…” You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

Notes:

I had a mighty need for more Virgin Eddie content that resulted in this monstrosity of a one-shot... that will have a part two! Let me know what y'all think of my characterization of our boy in the comments!

TWs: Virgin Eddie Munson, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Eddie Munson Has ADHD, Vaginal Fingering, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Panty Kink, Eddie Munson is a panty thief, Panty thief

“Hey.”

Eddie looks around his locker door to ensure he’s not hallucinating, that an actual, real-life girl is speaking to him.

“Y-yeah? Me?” goddammit, of course, his voice would choose to crack now.

“Yeah, you.”

Oh god, you’re pretty. Like, music-video-vixen level pretty. It’s terrifying.

“Um, what is it?”

“Smooth moves, jackass. Now you sound like a dick,” he thinks.

You bite your bottom lip, looking slightly amused. Ah, shit. You’re about to laugh in his face, aren't you?

“We’re twins,” you say, holding out the bottom of your t-shirt. Sure as shit, you are in matching Iron Maiden shirts. Eddie nearly faints. However, what he actually does could be considered worse than fainting in front of his dream girl.

“Oh,” he squeaks out, slamming his locker door and turning to walk away quickly.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! What the fuck was that?! his brain screams. The first time a girl speaks to him without ill intent, a girl who likes his favorite band no less, and he runs away like a bitch. Perfect.

That was the only interaction between you and the awkward metalhead in high school, but it was enough to make a lasting impression

After that day, Eddie soaked up any and all information about you that he could. He knew you had just transferred from Indianapolis and that you played the French Horn. You must be good because he discovered that you were first chair and section leader. Eddie knew that you liked to skip your third-period gym class to smoke. You often joked with your friends about how your days playing your instrument were numbered due to the bad habit (he may or may not also skip that period just to sit on the other side of the tall brick wall to hear your voice, not creepy at all, shut up).

He knew that you used expensive Italian perfume to cover the smell of cigarette smoke; something that in Eddie’s mind smelled like sophistication and raw sex appeal, but according to what you told Buckley, actually smelled like bergamot, sandalwood, and patchouli. He also knew you used cherry chapstick instead of lipstick in neon shades as other girls did. You didn’t wear much make-up, mainly eyeliner which made your eyes darker and more mysterious.

He knew that you mostly stuck to your group of band kids. There was this one time, however, when you saw Carol Perkins trip one of the chess team kids in the cafeteria. You gave her a black eye in front of the entire school and got suspended for a week. It was the most metal thing Eddie had ever seen.

He could write a novel about you. He could fill chapters describing how your hair caught the sunlight or how you twirled your rings around your fingers when you were concentrating on a test. He could write sonnets about your chipped, black nail polish and scuffed Docs. He could write dissertations about the intricacies of your music tastes and how closely they align with his tastes based on the bits of band merch you owned and how you chose to wear them.

But Eddie couldn’t fucking speak to you.

He considered it almost daily. But he’d always end up nauseous at the very thought of trying to approach you. So he never did, and you walked that stage in May of 1983 never to set foot in the halls of Hawkins High again. You got your diploma, went back to Indianapolis for college, and left Eddie behind to rot in the dusty trailer park he called home.

If you’d told Eddie then that a few years later, he’d be trauma bonded with Robin Buckley, Nancy Wheeler, and “King Steve” Harrington after fighting interdimensional monsters and saving the world, he’d have laughed in your face. But here he is, freshly graduated (finally), surrounded by friends, and sporting some gnarly scars to prove it all happened.

He was out by Steve’s pool (one of the perks of having a rich friend) watching the sunset and sharing stories with his friend over a beer. The crunch of gravel on the driveway drew their attention to the front of the house as they were standing to compare demobat scars.

“Buckley and Wheeler?” Eddie asked. Steve nodded.

“Yeah, and Robin’s other friend. Just graduated college. I don’t really know her that well, but she spent her senior year in Hawkins. She was a band kid or something, I think. Played the same instrument as Robin,” Steve waves his hands in a vague gesture trying to think of what the instrument in question was again. “That… big, curly trumpet.”

Eddie swallowed hard. “French horn…” he whispered, and Steve snapped his fingers in frustration that he’d forgotten the name of his best friend’s instrument.

There’s no way, it couldn’t be…

He didn’t have time to do more than grip the glass bottle in his hand and stare towards the side of the house where their friends’ voices echoed. He felt too exposed shirtless, so he bolted to grab his cropped Metallica tee and hurriedly threw it over his head.

“The fuck is your problem, man?” Steve asked, weirded out at his easy-going friend’s sudden burst of anxiety.

“Just,” he waved his hands around in frustration, trying to formulate a proper response. “The scars. They’re kinda gnarly, ya know?”

Steve scoffed. “Pretty sure it was Nance and me who kept you from bleeding out, and Robin has seen more of us than either of us are comfortable with, so what-”

Eddie shifted on his feet uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest and eyes on the ground. Steve bent forward to meet his gaze, hands on his narrow hips and sporting a shit-eating grin.

“Oh shit, is it the band girl? Do you know her?” Steve walked towards him, speaking in a hushed tone, eyes brimming with mischief. The thought of Eddie “cold, cynical heart” Munson having a schoolboy crush was sending him over the moon with glee.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie hissed in Steve’s face right before you and the rest of the group rounded the corner of the house.

“Holy hell,” Steve murmured low enough for only Eddie to hear, “Didn’t know band nerds could look like that.”

Eddie was so enchanted by your sudden appearance that he almost missed the salacious tone of Steve’s voice. Almost.

“I will end you, Harrington. I swear to God, if you-”

“Jesus man, cool it. I won’t step on any toes,” he raised his hands in surrender, and Eddie’s glare softened marginally. “I’m only noticing what anyone who isn’t blind would.”

Eddie took a moment to look at you properly. You hadn’t noticed him yet, so he used the opportunity to drink in your form. He felt like a man wandering the desert deprived of water, finally making it to the bank of a river. Sure, he pined after you for an embarrassingly long time after you left Hawkins, and he never really forgot about you. There were other crushes and even a couple of make-out sessions, but they were never you. Seeing you now in that flowing, white swimsuit cover, skin glistening with sun tan oil, and that blinding smile spread across your face, Eddie felt like that sixteen-year-old loser who ran from you in the halls at school.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie grumbled under his breath so only Steve could hear. “If you try anything, I’ll make sure you do end up blind.” He schooled his features to look unfazed the closer you got.

“Jesus,” Steve wheezed, still a little shocked at Eddie’s rare burst of aggression. The last time he saw him this worked up he was holding a broken beer bottle to his neck in Reefer Rick’s boat shed. “Got it, chief. No funny business outta me.”

Eddie was so fucked. Not only was he trying to deal with being in your presence again without making an ass of himself, but his friends were also onto him. It’s almost like fighting monsters and nearly dying in a hell-dimension together made you all very perceptive of behavioral shifts. Who knew? It’s nice for Eddie to have a group of friends who finally get him, but hella inconvenient when he’s trying to hide the fact that he has a crush on the new addition to the group.

Steve, naturally, noticed first. Seeing Eddie get all “aggro” right off the bat killed any chances of him playing it cool. So his gaze followed him throughout the night, observing how Eddie would interact with you.

Steve’s attention then spurred Robin's attention. And when she has her sights honed in on a situation, it’s like a Great White sensing a drop of blood in the water.

The “Scoop Troop Wonder Twins” gawking at him (they were not being subtle at all, by the way) caught the attention of “super-sleuth” Nancy Wheeler. That led to the three of them huddled in a mass, whispering together on the opposite edge of the pool.

The only radars that Eddie was managing to fly under were Jonathan and Argyle’s. That’s not hard to do since they were balls-high on Purple Palm Tree Delight as soon as they sat in the metal deck chairs on Steve’s patio.

Then there you were, partaking in the rotation with the two stoners, a spot Eddie usually occupied. With your feet propped in an empty chair, he could hear you talking passionately about music with the other two. When he looked up as he heard you call out to him, Eddie knew his face had to give away how shocked he was.

“Hey! It’s Eddie, right?” You moved your feet out of the empty chair and motioned him over. “I remember you being a man of taste. Come over here and back me up on this.”

Eddie would readily agree to anything you asked of him. He’d fight to the death over it now.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he scratched his head a little and walked over to sit.

You promptly handed him the tightly rolled joint, smoke curling out of your nostrils like some sort of sexy wyvern, eyes half-lidded and just a little red. Oh god, he’s so terribly in love.

“I’m going to give you two options to choose from. No right or wrong, no pressure. But be warned,” then your lips curled in a mischievous smirk. He was reminded again of a dragon offering a riddle to a poor mortal that stumbled upon her hoard, the answer granting safe passage or untimely demise. “I will remember how you answer, and I will definitely judge you for it.”

Eddie almost choked on the smoke he’d inhaled like he was fourteen again and smoking for the first time behind his uncle’s trailer. “Wow, yeah. No pressure at all. Okay, hit me,” he responded, trying to appear calm as he passed the joint to Argyle.

“Black Sabbath with Ozzy? Or Black Sabbath with Dio? You’ve got thirty seconds,” you grinned evilly, swinging one leg over the other and leveling your dark gaze at him.

“Oh shit, man. Uh,” Eddie was losing it. He didn’t expect such a difficult decision. Choosing between his two favorite metal vocalists? Pure torture. But he’s a professional metalhead, after all. He’s put thought into this very question. “Ozzy Sabbath is iconic, of course. But Heaven and Hell is hands down one of the best albums ever written.”

You clapped once loudly and then pointed at Jonathan cackling. “What did I say?! One of Sabbath’s best albums ever made was with Dio fronting!”

The shaggy-haired stoner groaned and rolled his eyes. You looked over at Eddie, biting back a wide grin. “Jonathan said Sabbath wasn’t really Sabbath anymore once Ozzy left and that no one would agree with me when I defended Heaven and Hell!”

“Wait, you listen to Sabbath, Byers?” Eddie questioned, brows raised. He never took the gangly pothead as someone who would listen to metal.

“I listen to a little of everything, I guess,” he mumbled, passing the joint back to you to start another rotation.

You leaned your head back to gaze at the stars that just started to appear in the sky as you blew the fragrant smoke from your lips. “You passed my test. Congrats,” you extended your arm to Eddie, looking at him softly. Your fingers brushed as you handed over the roach, the joint almost gone by now. “I won’t judge you so harshly now.”

Maybe it was the high setting in, but Eddie swore he saw you throw a little wink his way. There was no stopping the goofy little grin taking over his face as he took the last hit off the joint and relaxed into his chair.

Eddie wasn’t ever, nor ever would be religious, but there is one quote he’s often heard that has stuck in his brain:

“The Lord gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers.”

It only confirms there is no Christian god in his mind. He’s been thrown into the toughest battles of his life constantly over the past few weeks, and if there is one thing Eddie knows for sure, it’s the fact that he is no one’s strongest soldier.

Today’s challenge took the form of a slip of black lace peeking out of the top of your duffle bag.

This most recent dilemma was the result of Eddie agreeing to something he’d always avoided until now…

Fucking camping

Eddie hated the outdoors and hated being forced to spend more time than necessary roaming them. (Uncle Wayne always blamed it on having a dad who only ever taught him how to commit crimes and never took him camping as a small child, but who knows?). As soon as you consented to the idea, Eddie was totally on board with going along. Steve started to give him shit for agreeing so quickly to something he knew his friend hated until Eddie leveled him with a glare so toxic it could melt the paint off the walls.

By this point, he was pretty sure everyone besides you knew about his crush (and probably Argyle, but that guy was constantly operating on another wavelength). Even Nancy started giving him knowing looks behind her permed bangs when he’d laugh just a tad bit too loud at your jokes. Eddie nearly threw Steve out of his passenger's seat when you asked to hitch a ride with him out to Lover’s Lake campground.

“What the fuck, man! I can just get in the back-”

“Nope. No. Fuck off, Harrington. Take your own car this time.”

“But I just washed-,”

“Don’t care…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

Steve relented, making up a random excuse for taking his car. Robin happily jumped into the passenger seat of his little Mercedes and took over his radio. Eddie just grinned and threw a middle finger at his friend, who glared at him over the top of his car before getting inside.

“Thank god I’m riding with you! I don’t think I could suffer through any more of Argyle’s stoner tunes.” you hopped into Eddie’s van wearing a cropped Mercyful Fate tee and tiny denim cut-offs. So much exposed skin with no warning was doing terrible things for Eddie’s poor, inexperienced (dick) heart. “I love the guy, don’t get me wrong, I just needed to bond with a fellow metalhead today.”

Eddie cleared his throat and smiled, starting the car. He’s grateful he has the excuse of watching the road to keep his eyes (mostly) turned away from your exposed thighs. “Of course. Anytime.”

If Eddie weren’t so hopeless, he’d make some quip about all the fun ways the two of you could ‘bond’, but how could he flirt with you when looking at your legs had him getting hard like some fifteen-year-old? He was so hopeless.

“You can put in anything you’d like,” he gestured to the shoebox that held his cassette collection at your feet. “Most of my shit is at home, but I keep a decent variety here.”

He heard little ‘oohs’ and ‘ahh’s’ as you shuffled through the box. Eddie couldn’t help but feel a little proud that you approved of his musical selection. You yelled an enthusiastic “You’re fuckin’ kidding me!” and popped a tape into the radio before he could ask what you’d found.

“Where did you find this?! I’ve looked for months!”

Eddie started sweating when he heard the opening riff to the raunchiest goddamn song. It was his prized possession, one he only got his hands on because of friends in high places, W.A.S.P.’s “Animal” cassette.

“Umm,” Eddie’s brain short-circuited as you began to move to the beat of the music, throwing your head back and grinning at him wildly. “I’m pretty good buddies with a guy that owns a record store up in Indianapolis. Asked him to keep an eye out for me. I only got it a couple of weeks ago.”

“God, I’ve been dying to hear it again after hearing it live last March.”

Eddie’s nerves were quickly replaced with excitement. “Wait, live, you say?!”

“Yup,” you pop the p proudly and rest your feet on the dash. “I’ve got a cousin down in Dallas, which sucks, by the way. I don’t recommend ever going to Texas. Anyway, we saw them open for Iron Maiden. I’m telling you, it was a religious experience.”

Eddie slapped his hands on the steering wheel and a short, disbelieving laugh escaped his throat. “That’s insane! Holy shit, man!”

“I know,” you hummed. He felt you look over at him. “Have you gotten to see either of them live yet?”

“Nah,” he sighed. “Not yet. But one day! I’m already saving up.”

“We’ll go together,” you said it so casually, you acted as if it made perfect sense for you guys to go to a concert together. “We can split costs.” Eddie’s heart jumped up to his throat, and before he could form a coherent response, he saw you looking in the back of his van. He suddenly worried about what filth might be lurking back there. “We could even bunk up here and save on a hotel!”

Eddie stuttered and scratched his neck nervously. You must have taken it as rejection because you looked embarrassed as you sat back down and started fidgeting with your hair.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Eddie. I do this thing all the time.” You waved your hands around in front of your face when you said ‘thing’, trying to find the words to express how you felt. “There aren’t many people I can talk about music with, you know? So I get all worked up and excited when someone else seems interested in the bands I love, and I assume we’re best friends.” You let out a self-deprecating chuckle, looking out the passenger side window. “I know it’s off-putting.”

Eddie couldn’t have that. He shook his head so hard that his hair slapped across his face. “Nope, uh-uh. Cut that out.” He glanced over to make sure your attention was on him. “That was like…” he sighed. How could he reassure you without outing himself as being obsessed with you?

“It was so far from off-putting. You have no idea.” Eddie swallowed hard and noticed you looked a little confused. He gathered the meager bits of courage he possessed and continued. “I’m just not used to…” he paused. He can’t say ‘Sorry, I’m not used to my walking, wet dream asking to road-trip with me to go to a metal show, so I don’t know how to function right now.’ so he took a moment to choose his words carefully.

“I’m just not used to other people being as excited as I am about my music, either. So I was just… surprised. But in a good way!” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter and added under his breath. “In a great fuckin’ way, actually.”

Eddie watched you visibly relax. “Oh, thank god,” You chuckled. “I know I can be too much sometimes. I think the reason why one of the only people I’ve stayed friends with is Robin. She’s one of the only people that’s never judged me for it. Robin and I are kinda cut from the same cloth, I guess. Kindred spirits, if you will.”

It warmed his heart to see you smile when talking about the freckled girl that also wormed her way into his heart.

“Buckley’s a good one. She uh,” Eddie’s throat tightened as painful memories flashed across his mind. Tears and mud streaked across Robin's face, screaming something he didn’t understand…Her body quaking under his as she helped drag him along dank, dark earth… her sniffling and talking to him quietly as she bandaged his mauled sides, offering soft words of comfort and handling Eddie as carefully as if he were spun glass…

He cleared his throat and blinked away a rogue tear threatening to escape. “She’s one of a kind. Harrington, too. Shit, the whole bunch. You’ll see, you don’t have to be anyone but yourself around these guys. Promise.”

Eddie felt comforted as he watched you relax further into the passenger seat. He knew all about being ‘too much’ and how people treated those that dared to be unapologetically themselves. He had no idea someone as perfect as you ever experienced things similar to his own growing up.

The rest of the short drive consisted of talking about music and shows you’d been to, always with the promise of ‘when we see them next time.’ Including Eddie in your plans made Eddie’s insides all gooey and his heart flutter. He tried to keep reminding himself that just because you were being nice to him that it didn’t mean you were about to confess your undying love. It’s a problem Eddie has always had. He can’t love anything halfway; not his music, books, or even a few movies he’d been obsessed with over the years. It also bled into his relationships, this all-consuming, feral love. Uncle Wayne has always said that he wore his heart on his sleeve, even after life had given him every reason to build a barbed wire fence around it.

Eddie parked a little way uphill from the others since his van doubled as his tent and because he valued his privacy. He told himself he didn’t want the younger kids catching a whiff of his nightly smoking sesh (He knows they know about his drug dealing, but that doesn't mean he wants to flaunt it). A darker part of him knew that he might have to indulge in other nightly activities after watching you in a tiny, red bikini all day.

Eddie graciously helped everyone out with setting up their tents. However, he still periodically reminded anyone who would listen that he didn’t have to bother with tents since he owned the superior form of transportation that doubled as a car and a place to sleep. So what if his chest puffed up a little when you giggled at his comments? He didn’t think it warranted the gagging and eye-rolling he got from Henderson, Red, and both Sinclair siblings. Damn kids…

When everyone went to the campground showers to change into swimsuits, Eddie simply threw his shirt off, opting to swim in his cut-off jeans. He snickered, thinking about the look of horror he’d get from Mr. Former Swim Team Captain at his audacity (he banned denim from his pool to force Eddie into a pair of borrowed trunks, but they were at the lake now. King Steve had no power here).

When you left the showers with Robin and Nancy in a cherry red bikini, Eddie made a beeline for the toilets. There’s no way in the nine circles of hell he’d be able to swim around without getting hard at the sight of you. He walked around the corner of the building that housed the showers when he saw them. Eddie knew that was your canvas bag, the very one he saw you pull out of the floorboard of his van when you got out. There was no mistaking that the black, lace boy shorts lying on top of your other clothes were yours. It looked like you’d stepped out of them and laid them right on the bag. That could only mean one thing…

“Oh, fuck me sideways…”

You’d been wearing these. You sat in Eddie’s van wearing these exact panties.

He knew he’d probably hate himself forever for what he was about to do, but in his defense, Eddie did make sure you had extra pairs of clean panties before swiping these (He’s not a monster, okay? He wouldn’t dream of leaving a fair maiden pantiless). After taking them, cursing himself quietly, he high-tailed it back to his van to hide them. He couldn’t help feeling like Gollum, storing the One Ring away in his cave away from nosey hobbits.

Before going back to the lake, he couldn’t resist pulling the fabric to his face and inhaling deeply. Eddie’s eye’s rolled into the back of his head, groaning at the light scent of you that permeated the delicate fabric. He shook his head and threw them into the van to rest among his bedding. If he got too carried away now, he would never get rid of the persistent issue he had grown between his thighs.

After another adjustment and filling his thoughts with some of the most boner-killing scenarios, Eddie was finally able to rejoin everyone at the lake. If he had to remain solidly waist deep the entire time to avoid embarrassing himself and everyone around him… Well that was his business, wasn’t it?

As Eddie’s luck would have it, as soon as he dared to slip the tantalizing strip of fabric that haunted him all fucking day long over his face, there was a knock on his van door. He nearly jumped out of his skin, sitting up at lightning speed.

He cracked the back door open and gasped when he saw it was you, still clutching your panties firmly in his grip. He slammed the door shut before you could speak and dove towards his bedding, stuffing the offending garment deep into his pillowcase. Eddie took one large breath to steady himself before turning to open the back door again.

“H-hi, umm,” he wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He just knew you were on to him. You were probably knocking on his door to tell him what a filthy pervert he was and demand he hand over your underwear. “What’s uh… what’s up?”

You looked both amused and slightly confused, one eyebrow cocked upwards. “Well, the thing is,” you looked around the dark campground, biting your bottom lip. “My tent keeps collapsing. So I tried bunking with Robin and Steve, but there was no room. All the other tents are full too, so… if it wouldn’t be too weird, I guess…” you trailed off sheepishly.

“You wanna sleep in here?” Eddie knew his eyes rivaled the size of the full moon that hung above your heads. He felt equal parts horrified, shocked, and elated that you’d ended up seeking him out.

“I’m sorry if it’s too weird! I can just squeeze between Robin and Steve, it’s no big-”

“No,” Eddie barked. He cleared his throat a little and lowered his voice. “No, it’s totally fine. I don’t mind at all,” The thought of you snuggling up to Harrington was one he didn’t want to entertain. He hoped his smile was reassuring and not creepy like he felt it might be. You must not have cared since you beamed at him and announced you’d be back with your bedding in a minute.

Eddie scrambled around to ensure the mess in the back of his van wasn’t too out of hand. He’d thrown an old pair of boxers and an empty beer can over the driver’s side seat when he heard you knock again. He was relieved that he decided to shower and put on deodorant earlier when most of the other guys didn’t after swimming all afternoon. Eddie would have lain awake all night in misery if he’d had to share close quarters with you smelling like a fish.

Once you were both inside the van, he closed the door, and the silence was deafening. You must have noticed the tension because you shifted an inch closer and cleared your throat. That gave Eddie the courage to sneak a peek at you over his shoulder.

He nearly groaned as he watched you pull a joint out of your goddamn bra and wave it in front of you, cocking an eyebrow up and smiling.

“Purple palm tree delight?” Eddie whispered, his mouth dry as cotton before taking a single hit.

“You know it,” you responded, pulling a lighter out of your pillowcase. Eddie wondered why you weren’t using your pockets. He risked a glance down towards your lap. Your shorts (if they could even be called shorts instead of underwear) were so tiny that there was no way you’d fit anything in there, even if they did have pockets. He felt dizzy at the thought of you being in such little clothing this close to him all night.

You lit up the joint, the small, flickering flame casting your features in an enchanting glow. Eddie was close enough to smell that you’d used some of that expensive perfume. A tiny, pathetic part of him wondered if you’d done it for him. ‘Don’t be a fool’ he thought. ‘Just because she’s sharing her weed and talking about music with you doesn’t mean anything. Stop being a pathetic creep.’

He must have missed something you’d said because he heard you call his name and saw you looking at him questioningly.

“Oh, sorry. What was that?”

“I said, can I try something?”

“S-sure,” Eddie didn’t know (or care, if he’s being honest) if you’d asked to try out ritual sacrifice or if you asked to try a piece of his gum, but he knew he’d always let you try anything you’d wanted. “I need to get pretty close. Is that okay?”

Eddie nodded, transfixed by you getting up on your knees and leaning over his face. Your face was inches from his. Eddie thanked any deity that existed for the forethought he had to put his pillow over his lap. He’d beg to be struck down by lightning if you knew how easily he got boners when you were near him.

You brought the joint up to your lips. Before taking a hit, you asked, “Have you ever shotgunned, Eddie?”

Of course, he hadn’t. Eddie’s experience with the fairer sex was woefully lacking. Instead of admitting it out loud, he simply shook his head no.

“Do you want to try it?” you purred. Eddie gripped the pillow over his lap as he nodded yes furiously. You grinned and put the joint to your lips. Eddie could have cried when you placed your small hand on his cheek, thumb pushing his chin down to open his mouth for you.

Your hand traveled to the back of his neck as you released smoke into his waiting mouth, and Eddie shuddered. He grew so flustered that he could barely inhale what you exhaled towards him. His eyes closed, and he let out a shaky exhale as you began to play with his hair.

“How was that?” you asked, lips still heart-achingly close to his own. Eddie’s brain was mush. The defenses he usually kept up around you to appear cool were falling fast.

“Am I dreaming right now?” was the only coherent thought he could string together, so that’s what ended up coming out of his mouth.

Your laughter sounded like bells. “Why do you ask that, Eddie?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” you drew out your response, still looking at him suspiciously.

“I’ve been obsessed with you since I was sixteen,” you looked genuinely surprised, but Eddie couldn’t stop the words from flowing now that he unleashed them. “I think I might die if I have to pretend for one more day that I’m not,” He paused. Eddie was so terrified. He felt like he might puke. “You scare the ever-living shit out of me, but not in a ‘horror movie villain’ way,” he inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. “In the way you might fear a beautiful warrior queen on the battlefield, or a siren out at sea.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw you wearing such a soft expression that he felt safe to keep talking. He said your name so quietly that he barely heard himself whisper it. “I’m just a freak that dreams about entertaining a goddess.”

Before he could feel insecure about spilling his guts to you in the back of his shitty van, your hands were holding his face, noses pressed together.

“Eddie Munson, you are a fool,” you whispered before attaching your lips to his in the sweetest kiss Eddie knew he’d ever had.

Eddie only nodded in agreement, clutching at your waist. He felt drunk off your lips, all of his insecurities taking a back seat as he reached for another kiss.

“You really had no clue?” you spoke into his ear as you kissed along his jawline.

“About what? Oh, fuck!” he whined as you sat down on top of him. Your weight in his lap felt heavenly despite the stupid pillow being in the way.

“About what?!” You pulled away with a wide eye stare. “I’ve been wanting to get in your pants since high school, you dingus!” You emphasized your point with a light slap to his chest. “I thought you hated me for the longest time! I was so nervous when I talked to you that one time we wore matching Iron Maiden shirts! When you ran away, I thought that was it. Then, years later, not only do I find out my crush is now friends with my best friend,” your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned in. “I also find out that he’s got a big, fat crush on me too.” Your noses brushed and Eddie shivered.

“No fuckin’ way,” he whimpered as your lips brushed lightly.

“Yes fuckin’ way,” you replied, capturing him in another kiss.

Eddie didn’t question how you found out about his crush because he quite frankly didn’t have the brain power for it. He’d deal with all that later.

“Not to run you off or anything,” he sighed, relishing the feel of your soft hands exploring his torso. “But I was so obsessed with you back in school. Like, to a concerning degree.”

He didn’t expect you to moan into his neck at his admission, but he also wasn’t upset about it.

“Tell me about it, baby,” your voice was a husky whisper. “Keep talkin’ to me.”

“Oh god,” Eddie whined as he felt you begin to suck a mark into the delicate skin under his ear. “Feels… that feels so good.”

“Want me to mark you up? Show everyone you belong to me, Eddie?”

“Holy shit, yes! Please…”

“Then talk to me,” you kissed over the mark that began to form on his neck. “Tell me all about your little crush.”

“Fuck!” He cried out, bucking up into the pillow. “I, uh. I n-never even looked at anyone else in school after I saw you.”

“Not even the pretty little cheerleaders?”

“No,” he gasped when your lips met his again. “No one, I swear.”

You got off Eddie’s lap and he thought he might cry at the loss. The pillow hiding the tent he was sporting in his sweats was ripped away and for a moment, he felt self-conscious. You noticed him tense up and cupped his face.

“We can stop, you know?” Your eyes glowed with affection and Eddie wondered again how he was lucky enough to warrant that expression from you. “I’m just thrilled that we can be honest with each other now. We don’t have to do anyth-,”

“I’m a virgin,” Eddie blurred out. “Like a uh, mega virgin…”

Eddie could tell you were trying to keep your features neutral, but he saw the smile that wanted to peek out.

“A ‘mega virgin’?” You said, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Yes,” Eddie answered with a grimace. “Like an ‘I’ve never seen boobies in real life’ level of virgin. So, I’m probably going to be very bad at everything,” he looked up from his lap to lock eyes with you. Any trace of humor was gone, replaced with that honey-sweet fondness in your eyes.

“Can I be blunt with you, Eddie?” Your thumbs brushed his cheekbones softly as you spoke. “I’m so insanely attracted to you that I don’t think any touch you decide to give me could ever feel bad. Do you understand?”

“Y-yeah,” he responded with a whisper. “I feel the same way about you.”

Your forehead met his and he closed his eyes, afraid that when he opened them again, he’d realize this was all a dream.

“Do you wanna feel what kissing you does to me?” Eddie could only nod and pray to Lucifer that this was going where he thought it was. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your lower stomach. “Go ahead,” your lower lip brushed his as you spoke. “Feel how bad I want you.”

Eddie’s fingers trembled as they traveled past the elastic waistband of your tiny black shorts. He was mesmerized watching your mouth drop open and your eyelids lower in pleasure. When his hand’s slow descent made it to your soaked entrance, he was floored by how impossibly wet you were.

“Jesus H. Christ, this is unreal,” he moved his fingers up and down, not having any sort of plan, simply wanting to feel. By the way you grabbed his shoulders and started panting, you didn’t seem to mind his lack of skill too terribly. “Are you always this wet?”

You shook your head no instead of answering verbally. Eddie’s forehead fell to your collarbone as he let out a loud groan. His eyes were fixed on the outline of his hand in your shorts.

“Can we get these off?” He asked. “I wanna look, please.”

“Yeah, sure,” you responded, laying down on his blankets. You lifted your hips to take them off when Eddie grabbed your hands.

“Let me?” Eddie’s hands shook and his breath froze in his lungs. He’d dreamed of this exact scenario so many times before. This all seemed as fantastical as the D&D campaigns he spent hours writing.

“Please,” your voice was so airy and desperate. Eddie still couldn’t comprehend that he was the reason for it. You raised your hips and he slowly pulled your shorts off along with your panties. Immediately, he began running his fingers through your wetness, looking up at your face to judge your reactions.

“Does this feel good?” he asked. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip with your eyes closed. He continued that way for a couple of minutes longer, panting at how wet his pointer and middle fingers had become. He laid his head on your thigh and kissed your damp skin. He kept his nose buried there, reveling in your smell and taste.

“I-I wanna make you come. Please,” your eyes met his and he kissed higher up your thigh, not looking away once. You threw your head back with a loud moan. Eddie felt like a god, your obvious signs of pleasure giving him newfound confidence. His fingers sped up while he added the slightest bit more pressure to his strokes. “That’s it, get loud for me. God, I fucking love your noises. Show me, baby,” he stopped touching you and grabbed one of the hands you had fisted in his blanket and wove your fingers together squeezing gently to get your attention. You nodded and brought his hand back down between your thighs.

“Put them inside,” you coached him along as he breached your soaked entrance. He went as slow as he could manage, eyes flitting between his disappearing fingers and your blissed-out face. Once he was in far enough, you spoke again. “Now, curl the- oh, fuck!”

Eddie grinned wildly at your outburst. He might be a virgin, but he’s not clueless, okay? Weirdly enough, he’d learned this little trick from Reefer Rick, of all people. They got high once and when Eddie let slip he was still a virgin, Rick took it upon himself to give him some sort of fucked up sex ed class on women’s pleasure. At the time, he wanted to curl up and die of shame. Now? All the embarrassment in the world was worth seeing your jaw drop and eyes roll back like this.

“There we go,” he purred. The part of Eddie’s personality that allowed him to go feral while DMing was bleeding over into his interactions with you. He sat up and began rubbing back and forth along your soaked clit with his other hand.

“Oh god, Eddie!” you looked close to tears as he massaged you inside and out. Your hips began writhing and when your thigh accidentally grazed Eddie’s stiff cock, he nearly doubled over. You noticed instantly and repeated the gesture.

“Fuck,” his movements faltered and you chuckled darkly, “Baby, if you make me come in my sweats I might die of embarrassment,” he whined through gritted teeth.

“What if I wanna see you do it?”

Eddie closed his eyes and inhaled deeply to collect himself. “Nope. Uh-uh,” he looked back down with determination in his features. “I’m getting you off first. I’ve dreamt of this for years. I refuse to jizz in my pants before you come all over my hands,” he redoubled his efforts, tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly in concentration.

Your eyes flew open and your body tensed. Eddie began to feel your walls fluttering around his fingers. It was the most intriguing and arousing thing he’d ever experienced.

“Holy shit,” he gasped. “You about to come, sweetheart?”

You nodded and grabbed his shoulder, sitting up a little. “Kiss me, please?”

Eddie melted. You wanting to kiss him while you came was so insanely sexy and endearing at the same time.

“‘Course I will, baby. Come here,” you crashed into each other, lips brushing together between panting breaths. You had one hand in Eddie’s hair and the other had a vice grip on his shoulder.

“Oh, fuck! Eddie, I’m-,”

“I know, I know. Give it to me,” he kissed you hard and imagined he’d died and gone to heaven when he felt your whine against his lips. You tensed all over. Eddie felt your walls clamp down on his fingers. He was amazed when you got impossibly wetter and threw yourself back into his pillow, nearly screaming in pleasure.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl,” Eddie brushed your hair out of your eyes, staying like that for a few minutes. After you came down from your high, he laid down beside you.

Eddie held up the hand he’d had inside you and admired his soaked fingers before licking them clean and moaning shamelessly. You looked at him fondly, raising your eyebrows at his dramatics.

“What? Can’t help it,” he said, as he made a show of licking up his palm. “You’re sweet as honey.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, turning to throw your thigh over his lap. He shuddered and you grinned up at him with lidded eyes. “I bet you taste just as sweet, big boy.” Your thigh traveled lower. Eddie groaned and bucked his hips to chase the sensation. “You gonna let me find out? I know I said I wanted to see you get these sweats dirty, but I think I want you in my mouth more,” you whispered filth directly into his ear while petting along his lower stomach the entire time.

“If you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises I won’t get these pants dirty either way,” he moaned, grabbing your thigh and grinding it into his crotch again.

“You didn’t answer me,” you responded, sitting up and positioning yourself between Eddie’s spread thighs. “Are you gonna let me find out how you taste?” You pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but a black lace bra, one left little to the imagination.

“Uh, yes? Fuck yes!” Eddie was pulling at his hair, nearly hysterical with desire. He was on the verge of embarrassing himself because he was so worked up. He scrambled to get his pants down without knocking you over.

“Eddie,” you laughed lightly, grabbing his hands. “Let me,” he nodded and crossed his hands over his chest, not sure where they should go. It’s not like he’s ever been in this situation before.

“Relax,” you said as your fingers dipped below the waistband of his boxers. Eddie met your gaze and nodded. You began pulling his pants down and he tried his best to control his breathing.

He groaned long and low when you finally freed him from his clothing, the cooler air in the van a delicious contrast to his burning skin.

“I knew it,” you purred, wasting no time getting your hands on him. Your touches were firm but gentle, running up and down his shaft. Eddie keened when your palm slid over his weeping head, smearing precum down his length. “I knew you were hiding a monster in those tight jeans.”

“M-monster? Really?” Eddie lifted his head off the pillow and searched your face to make sure you weren’t just mocking him.

“Are you kidding? This thing has gotta be close to eight inches, Eddie!” You stroked him slowly from base to tip as you spoke. “It’s the biggest I’ve ever seen, anyway.”

“It is?” He said, probably a little too eagerly. He was practically glowing under your praise. And you seemed to catch on to it.

“It is baby,” your voice was low and sultry. “The biggest and the prettiest,” Eddie bit into his fist, trying to stave off his creeping orgasm as you began massaging his balls with your other hand. “I can already tell I’m gonna want you in my mouth any chance I get.”

“Oh fuck, oh god!” Eddie’s hips jolted, “I might not survive your hand, much less your mouth!”

You grabbed the fist he’d been biting and intertwined your fingers. “Only one way to find out.”

That was the last thing you said before taking him halfway down in one go. Eddie squeezed your hand and shouted.

“S-shiiit! Y-you’re so,” he panted and squirmed, trying to string together a coherent thought. “You’re so perfect. Your mouth is heaven,” you hummed in appreciation of the praise and the vibrations felt like electricity dancing along Eddie’s spine. “Oh goddammit, I’m gonna come so fuckin’ fast.”

You pulled off of him to meet his eyes, “Do it,” you took his hand and placed it on the back of your head, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“Oh, you sweet thing,” Eddie stroked your cheek affectionately, “You do. You really fuckin’ do.” His hand went back to your hair as you swallowed him down again. It wasn’t much longer before he began warning you.

“H-hey,” his voice rose in pitch the closer he got to his release, “L-listen, angel. I’m about to come. Pull off.”

“Want it in my mouth,” you said, kissing his hipbone as you kept stroking him. “Can I taste it? Please?”

“Goddammit, yes! Oh yes, please!”

You hummed around him and with just a few more bobs of your head, Eddie released straight into your throat.

You slowly bobbed your head, swallowing every time another wave of his release entered your mouth. After a few seconds, when you were sure he was done, you released him from your lips and sat up. Eddie’s vision returned just in time to watch you crawl over his body and lay onto his chest. Your hands carded through the damp curls around his face.

“Wanna know a secret, Eddie?” You whispered, tracing patterns into his scalp as his breathing finally slowed.

“Y-yeah.”

“That’s the first time I’ve ever let anyone come in my mouth.”

Eddie’s face whipped over to look at you. “Honest?”

You smiled as you bit your lower lip and nodded, “Honest, baby.”

He shuddered at the nickname. “Mmm, keep callin’ me sweet names and you’ll never get rid of me, ya know?”

“That’s the idea, my love.”

Eddie made a growling sound as he clung to you like a koala. “You’re lethal. You know that?”

You didn’t answer but sat up far enough to envelop Eddie’s plush lips in a deep kiss. You made out like that for a while, until he realized he began to harden again. You seemed to notice it as well.

“Down, boy,” you joked, stroking his sides and nipping at his throat.

Eddie groaned. “Nothing’s going down as long as I’m this close to you,” he turns you both to your sides facing each other. “I can’t stop thinking about how warm and wet you are,” Eddie squeezed your sides and kissed along your collarbone. “You squeezed my fingers so tight when you came. I wanna feel you doing that around my cock, pretty mama.”

You wrapped your leg around his hip and whined. “Eddie I’m not taking your virginity in the back of your van,” his hand found your still-soaked entrance and began petting you while his mouth worked your neck over. You returned the favor by fisting his damp cock.

“Oh god, I don’t give a fuck where it happens,” he gasps as you run your palm over his sensitive head. “Please, I need it,” he bit and sucked the delicate skin of your neck, whining the entire time.

“No, Eddie,” your firm tone made him shiver. “You’ll get my hand and my mouth tonight. As many times as you need it,” your hand sped up as his fingers followed suit against your clit. “But you’ll get my pussy in my bed. So you can fuck me into the mattress properly.” Eddie came for the second time with a shout into your fist.

He looked up in time to see you lick it up from your palm like it was sugar. Eddie’s brain short-circuited. “I-I wanna make you come again,” he blurted out, still circling your clit. You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead into his.

“Keep doing that,” you encouraged. Eddie nodded and picked up speed. He watched you in a trance as you unraveled under his touch for the second time in one night. He felt like a god.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty when you do that,” Eddie kissed all over your face as you laughed. “Ethereal, stunning, a work of art!”

“That’s all you, pretty boy,” you kissed the bridge of his nose and he melted.

“By the way, I’m totally down for van fucking, ma’am,” he feigned irritation as he poked your sides playfully. “Making a twenty-one-year-old virgin wait even longer is just cruel.”

“Don’t pout, Eddie,” you cooed, cuddling into his side. “I promise you’ll be glad you waited.”

“If you insist, princess,” he sighed, pulling your body close.

“I do,” you yawned. “Now sleep.”

“Hey, sweetheart?”

“Hmm?”

“How soon after we wake up can we get the fuck outta here and preferably into your bed?”

Eddie let out an ‘oof!’ as you slapped a pillow over his face.

“Less talk. More sleep.”

“Yes, love.”

#virgin eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #jade writes smut #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie my beloved

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docwritesshit · 1 year

Text

The Ink feels right

Blurb: You rarely felt comfortable, and barley when it was needed. Nothing helped, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to draw on your skin, without realizing someone else could as well

Type: Fluff, bits of angst if you squint. Soulmate AU

Word count: 3.2k

Pairing: Sun Wukong x reader

Authors note: This was just a self indulgent x reader honestly. I rewrite this so many fucking times too-

Ick, that was the best you could do to describe whatever the hell you felt. The feeling of just… ‘no’ was ever present in ways you couldn't pinpoint in any other word or phrase. There were days that you felt the need to scratch at your own skin, gauging at the itch that laid deep within your bones that would not let up no matter what you did.

You tried to distract yourself, you did. Drawing, burying yourself in your work, reading, sewing, taking up any and all projects that made your hands busy. But the ick was still there. And don’t even get started on the intrusive thoughts.

They were the shadows that creeped in the deepest corners of your mind, taking your brain full force, making you want to get rid of your own body. That just made the raking across your flesh ten times worse. This wasn’t your body, not this monstrosity. It was too much, too much all at once. And it made you worry.

At first, your parents grew worried at your constant scatrching of your skin, sometimes drawing blood. Being paranoid, they did many charms and spells, thinking it was a curse that needed an exorcism. But it never went away. So they thought it was a demon, plunging you into training at the ripe age of seven, teaching you self defense and combat through spells and taking advantage of your environment, It made you quick on your feet, and made you busy, but the ick was still there.

Nothing worked for you. You changed your wardrobe dozens of times, thinking the change of fabrics could help. You went on and off perfumes and fragrances, but the result was the same. You wanted to scream to the heavens what were you missing? Was this just a ploy? A game? Some trick to entertain the court above?

It got especially worse today. You were alone in the study, looking over maps for a voyage your cousin would be taking when the ick grew, and the thoughts came. Your whole body felt it was on fire, the thoughts in your mind felt like it was consuming you. You groaned, taking the quill in your hand and swiping it across a document, then on your arm in desperation. You stilled yourself, and looked down.

The ink made a wide, splattered line that swerved across your skin. You bite your tongue, cursing. An old tale came to mind, one your parents gushed about endlessly.

When a celestial becomes of age, there was a small chance there was one person there for them in the world. That one person would share many experiences with them, their triumphs, their failures, their highs and lows. Until they found them, the only thing they would share was the skin across their body.

Your parents phrased it as your body was the canvas you and your bound shared, and together you could make the most beautiful masterpiece even when you were apart. It sounded like you got punished for being eternally connected with someone.

You sighed, getting up from your seat to wash up in the bathroom when you felt more pressure on your arm. You looked down, seeing the ink line transforming into a sea, then a boat was slowly being added, sails fluttering in the wind. You stood in shock, in bewilderment. Was this the person you were bound to? Why did it feel fo foreign yet so… relieving? The ick dissipated a bit, the pressure of the phantom pen keeping it at bay. You stood, witnessing the boat gain a captain, a small monkey with a crown on it’s head, holding up a sword towards a forming sunset. It was enchanting…

A small print followed below the drawing, big and scrawled.

“Thanks for the inspo! I was bored for a bit now”

You stared at the message for a solid ten seconds, before rushing to the bathroom and scrubbing your arm raw to get rid of the masterpiece, watching as the black tinted water swirled down the drain. You waited a few moments for a new message to appear. When none came, you walked back to the study. You would deal with this at a later date.

And… that later date came within the next few hours, when intrusive thoughts began again along with the ick. You groaned, tossing and turning in your bed. You prayed that it would pass, trying to clear your mind, focusing on the feel of the silk sheets underneath your fingertips, but the shadows clawed their way into your thoughts again and again.

You gave up, tossing the blankets aside and going to your desk in the corner, grabbing a pen and your journal, thinking you might as well try and write the thoughts down so they don’t bother you as much. That was the plan anyways, until the pen dripped onto your hand as you tapped it to get an idea going. You began to reach for the rag you kept for times like this when the phantom sensation came back. You looked down to see a ghost pen connecting the ink dots, creating constellations.

You froze again, witnessing as your ‘soulmate’ sketched out a cliff and another monkey looking up at said stars. The shadows retreated back to the corners of your mind, the itch dissipated again, almost fully. You traced your fingers over the constellations, catching yourself smiling. You shook your head, and stalked back to bed. You would deal with this in the morning.

In the morning, you found another note from the ghostly artist using your sin as a sketch pad.

“Most say the constellations are the most beautiful sights to see, but I’d say the stars pale in comparison to you ;)”

You pity the poor training partner your parents set you up with that day, as they got the brunt of your anger and rage and flusteredness. By the end of it, they were struggling to stand, legs wobbling and leaned on the instructor for support. You made sure to send some of your personal remedies and a note as an apology when you calmed down.

Over the next few days, you avoided excessive contact with ink or anything that might get on your skin. You made it a habit to wear long gloves when documenting routes and annotating maps. During training, you convinced your agents to have a barrier around you to not get any dirt or, gods forbid, blood on your skin that would prompt whoever was bound to you to be concerned.

It was night again when it became too much for you. The itch deep within your bones grew more and more, causing you to pace in your room, fidgeting with your rings to stop yourself from raking your nails across your skin. You didn’t want to, still trying to get through the night without even touching a pen, but you relented.

You picked up your pen again, throwing caution to the wind and started with a line. The line became curved, then another line followed. You drew and drew, the itching burn, cooling bit by bit as the doodle grew more. When you woke up from your inky splotched daze, you saw roses and thorns decorating your forearm. You sighed in relief, and made your way back to bed. Then the phantom sensation began again.

“HOW DARE YOU HIDE THESE BEAUTIFUL MASTERPIECES!!! Who knew I had such a talented soulmate?”

You blushed, your brain clearly not kicking in when you responded.

“Well, I didn't want to bother you creating your own masterpieces.”

When you read what you wrote, you smacked your forehead. You really were sleep deprived huh? You could feel your bound write back quickly.

“Oh so you do know how to write! I thought you were just learning with all the ink getting on your arms. But, thank you for the compliment, but I rather enjoy your art as well.”

You bit your lip, tapping your pen to your chin. Should you respond? You already wrote back once, shouldn’t that be enough?

“I like yours better honestly, you make art from my mistakes.”

“Oh those? I was glad for the distraction honestly.”

“Well, I’m glad to be a ‘distraction’ then”

You felt no other phantom sensations after that, determining your artist was too tired to be bothered for much longer. So, you drifted off to sleep. In the morning however, you found a new addition to your sketch, a butterfly with a peculiar wing pattern sat on top of one of your roses, along with another note

“I hope you don’t mind, but I just wanted to release at least one of the butterflies you give me”

Without meaning to, your ‘distractions’ became more frequent to your bound. The nightly ritual of you giving them a line, a few sketch’s their way, and falling asleep as the phantom sensations guided you to your dreams instead of the shadows ever present to your mind.

You caught yourself smiling as the quill dripped ink on your hand, but you let it be. Your parents caught onto your elevated mood, seeing the weights fall bit by bit. They witnessed your forced smile to court officials come easier, your eyes regaining the sparkle they missed. They questioned it, but all you said was you found a way to get rid of the ick for the time being. They were elated, celebrating with a feast of your favorites. You smiled with them, subconsciously rubbing your sleeve where you could feel your bound make another doodle.

And when you were assigned to go down to the mortal plane to see who this new successor to the Monkey King was, you accepted it with little resistance. You needed to get out of the palace anyways.

And oh, was he the Monkey King's successor. You could see the aura around him from blocks away. Honestly it was a miracle that he hadn’t been jumped all day by some sort of demon.

Oh, the heart of gold he wore on his sleeve as well. You could tell he was a fan-boy the minute you mentioned Monkey King to him while talking about going to see the new movie. His ramblings warmed your heart, but you were here on business, not pleasantries. Until the Ick came back.

Sitting in a lone booth waiting for him to come back after some deliveries, you pulled out a marker you started carrying around in cases like these. You started a small line on your palm, going to your wrist, creating vines that wrapped around the veins visible. Your doodling came to an early end when MK entered the restaurant again, joining you in your booth.

“I’m glad you caught me right before my break! What did you want to talk to me about again?” He asked. You smiled, hiding your art with some glamor.

“Nothing too bad, I assure you. I am with the Jade court, and they just wanted to send me down here to see who this Monkie Kid was.” You explained, resisting the urge to look down at your palm when you could feel the artist on the other end add onto your drawing.

“Oh, well- I mean- Um-“ The poor kid got flustered so quickly, a pink blush dusting his cheeks already. You chuckled, covering your smile with your hand.

“Don’t fret please, you seem like a good kid.” You tried to calm him down.

“Oh, ok. Well, I’m still training with Monkey King and I’m still learning.” He said, his hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. You hummed in acknowledgment, recalling how recently he had gotten the staff. His eye then widened, standing up in a panic

“SHIT MONKEY KING- I forgot we had training scheduled like fifteen minutes ago-“ He scrambled out of the restaurant, presumably to change out of his work uniform into a more appropriate sparing outfit. You rolled your eyes. Yep, he was definitely the chosen student of Sun Wukong.

You could feel your little artist stop drawing, taking the chance to look down at your palm again. You smiled, seeing flowers and fruits sprout from the vines you drew. A small note attached as well.

“I‘ll make sure to get a bouquet more beautiful than this drawing, cause nothing can be more beautiful than you <3”

Well, they had gotten a lot more cheesier with the pick-up lines you noticed. The bell above the door to the restaurant made your ears perk up, turning your head and almost fell out of the booth.

“Hey Pigsy, is the kid still here? He and I had training and he still hasn’t shown up”

The cook on there other side of the bar gave a grunt, pointing upwards with his ladle.

“Bud got distracted with deliveries and talking with customers. He’s changing upstairs.”

“Great! That means he’ll be here any minute now!”

The form he took to walk around the city wasn’t too suspicious, wavy ginger hair slicked with a bit of stubble on his chin to account for his fur. You got up, hoping to sneak out the front as he continued to talk with Pigsy, reaching for the handle when he looked over at to see who was leaving. Even with your glamour though, he could still see your celestial form.

“HALT!”

You froze, fingertips grazing the doorknob to your escape. He strolled over, scrutinizing you. You squeezed your eyes closed, praying that he won't try and fight. You knew he was protective of his pupil, and knew he wouldn't take kindly to anyone with malicious intent close to him.

You cracked your eyes open again when you felt his claw grasp at your hand. You pulled away on instinct, pulling it close to your chest. You looked up to see his eyes widened, a small smile lining his lips.

“Now this wasn’t how I expected we would meet.” He commented. You raised up an eyebrow, moving to take a step away when he held his own hand up, letting his glamor down to reveal vines and flowers painting his palm and wrist, along with the note and heart he left behind.

You purse your lips, turning your back to him and pulling out your marker, adding a question mark to the fingertip of your pointer finger. You had experienced some demons and celestial beings trying to pose as your bound, glamorizing their own markings to match yours. You simply added on in secret to see if they were lying, and today was no different.

“You know that’s just going to show up on my skin right? Why a question mark? You could have at least done something funny,” The Great Sage Equal to Heaven said. Your blood froze, turning your head slowly to see that indeed, the question mark was on his pointer finger as well. You looked up at him still rambling on the wasted potential of your symbol for him to try and glamor on his skin. You wanted to combust right then and there, your brain processing you were bound to the menaces to the celestial heavens.

He stopped himself, tilting his head when he noticed your inner turmoil.

“Uuuuhhh, you good?”

You sped out the door, sprinting down the street. You weren’t dealing with this right now.

But he was. He followed after you in his hawk form, above you at every twist and turn you took. You stopped to rest at a bench when he popped up next to you.

“Gotta say, you got a pair of lungs on ya!” He announced, collapsing next to you. You scooted away, the ick coming back now. You huffed, mindlessly scratching at the back of your hand. Wukong noticed, seeing your nails rake across the skin made goosebumps rise. He grabbed your hand again, stopping the motion. You looked up at him, and pulled away from his grasp again.

“Sorry, force of habit.” You mumbled. He furrowed his brows, looking down at his palm that held the art you and him made. He cracked a smile, tracing the vines you sketched.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you were good by the way.” He commented. You chuckled, looking at your own palm.

“Yeah I know.”

He looked back over to you, his tail slowly inching closer to you. You sucked in a breath, debating whether or not to run away again. But the itch grew, and it was becoming unbearable. You sighed, taking out your marker again and placing it in his hand.

“Please draw again.” You pleaded. He raised his eyebrows, but obliged. Taking your arm in his grasp, he began lining out his own staff, and you exhaled slowly as the itch ebbed away. He stole glances, seeing you relax more and more as he drew. You could feel the eyes at the side of your head, and decided it was too far to go back now,

“What is it?” You prodded. You felt the marker become still, the felt tip against your arm. He looked your way again, locking eyes with you.

“Why did you run away?” He asked. You hummed, the words rolling in your mind not forming coherent sentences that would be nice fir anyone to hear. But you did your best!

“Because you aren’t who I expected to be bound to. Though I should have guessed by the amount of monikes you draw.” You deadpanned. He pursed his lips, shoulders shaking in resistance to the laughs building in his chest. A few chuckles escaped, soon a fit of giggles followed. You chuckled yourself, feeling a little lighter.

“Ok, I'll take that, Not on the best terms with the bosses above.” He stated, continuing with his drawing. You hummed, relishing the relief that was flowing through you.

“Hm, well that’s an understatement.” You muttered. That got another chuckle from him. He looked back down at you and his gaze focused on your hand, still with the vines and flowers staining your palm. He locked eyes with you, stilling his hand again.

“Why didn't you draw sooner? And why did you ignore me?” He asked. You froze again, recalling your first contact with each other. You exhaled again.

“To be honest, the line was an accident. But when you drew, it felt… right. The only thing that was right with my body, and I hated it. So I ignored for a while, but… well I call it the ‘ick’. It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch and it gets worse with intrusive thoughts. Anyways, it came back not long after though, and I decided to draw on my skin to see it would help since it did when you drew. It did, and you continued to add on, and it just felt right for once.” You rambled, Wukong holding onto your every word.

He smiled down at you, finishing the last details of his staff before turning towards you, reaching his hand out.

“Well, if it felt so right, what’s wrong about it?” He inquired. You looked at him, and grinned. You accepted his hand, and he pulled you into a tight hug. You melted against his warmth. You guessed dealing with it now wasn’t so bad…

#lmk sun wukong #monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid #lmk swk #x reader #sun wukong x reader

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