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bettyfrommars · 11 months

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I'm on Fire//biker!older!Eddie x fem!artist!Reader//biker!Steve//90's au//Part 10

🚨18+Only, smut, oral (m receiving), talk of erection, size kink, swallowing, biker gang, biker!Eddie, biker!Steve, talk of drug use, threats, talk of violence, financial trouble, mention of jail, smoking cigarettes, alcohol consumption, trouble at home, co-parents!Stobin, suggested custody issues, angst, underlying fear of retaliation. Word count: 8.7k

This is mostly just a sweet lil chapter to heal some wounds, right before some old wounds start opening.

Series Masterlist

A/N: I tried to make this part completely void of angst, but alas, I did not succeed. I'm working on a summertime one shot idea for the boys to go to a bike rally with all of the shenanigans that could possibly ensue; it should be a wild one. Big love to my beta @michellecrusher for deciding that this chapter could use a touch of smut.

As always, I'm honored to be on this ride with you and look forward to any and all interactions. Comments, messages, reblogs; it all means so much to me and is what keeps this little world going ❤️‍🔥

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I'm on Fire Part 10: I got a bad desire

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Landing with your face on the puke-stained, beer dribbled carpet of the Velvet Hammer, dusted in a sprinkle of cigarette ash, was not how you wanted to start your evening. You hadn’t even realized you hit the ground until you heard Steve’s voice demanding everyone get the fuck out of his way as he parted bodies to get to you.

And then, Erika’s voice: “I don’t know what happened...she just...fell. I promise, I didn’t touch her!”

People were murmuring around you and Steve was saying your name as you started to come back to reality, taking a deep inhale, blinking back to life. He knelt and propped you up into a sitting position, and that was when the embarrassment of what had just happened began to wash over you, making you wish that a hole in the ground would swallow you up.

“Do you think you can stand?” Steve asked while his big hands found positions under your arms in preparation to lift you up. You turned your head to look at him; his wayfarer sunglasses had fallen from the top of his head to the tip of his nose, and they were about to slip off, but his concern was more with not letting you go.

“What happened?” He asked as he pulled you to your feet, taking a second to grab the sunglasses off his face and throw them on the bar. “Did someone push you?”

“Please. Get me out of here,” you begged as one of your arms went around his shoulders, and one of his hands secured itself at your waist.

He set you down on a chair in front of the employee lockers and told you he’d get someone to cover the door for him while he took you home, or he’d see if one of the girls could stop by.

With your hands between your knees and your shoulders slumped, you began to come to terms with everything as he picked up the phone in the office.

“Wait,” you stopped him. “I can’t afford to miss a day of work, Steve, I’ll be fine. Just...just give me a second to catch my breath.”

Steve understood what a hard spot that was to be in; he lived it almost every day of his life. He put the receiver back down on the cradle.

“What did that bitch say to you?” Steve asked, putting his foot up on the bench.

You shook your head. “That’s just it, she’s not a bitch,” you chewed your lip. “She just saved me from making a huge mistake. I owe her.”

Steve was on his way back out to the floor when you called to him. “Hey, does Eddie have any female friends who are redheads, that you know of? Really pretty, tattoo on her bicep? Someone he’d feel comfortable enough with to let stay at his place?”

Steve popped his knee out and put his hands on his hips, frowning. “No one that he’s...dated, I don’t think,” he rubbed his chin in thought. “But there’s Max, she’s more like a sister to us. I just tattooed her a few weeks ago. Her hair was like a bright, candy red. Why do you ask?”

You turned away from Steve and squeezed your eyes shut, a sob caught in your throat. The sudden rush of relief at so many groundbreaking realizations had your emotions on the verge of short-circuiting. Eddie still had quite a bit of explaining to do, but the tight bud of your heart was blooming like a rose in your chest once again, full of hope.

----------

Meanwhile, Eddie was officially going stir crazy. “I need to get out of this house,” he told Robin has he hitched through the kitchen, careful not to put too much weight on the hip was right below his wound. He was wearing his jeans unbuttoned, so they hung a bit low, bangs swept across his forehead, and one of Steve’s white wife beaters that was too small for him. The thin material exposed the tattoos on his chest and stomach, as well as the ones scattered from neck to hands. He’d spent the afternoon watching cartoons with Oliver, which was enjoyable, but relaxing and sitting still for long periods of time just wasn’t in his DNA.

Also, he wasn’t sure if it was an affect of the morphine, but he’d had another one of his nightmares early that morning, before dawn, and shouted himself awake, covered in sweat. It was the same dream that had tortured him off and on for over a decade; the one where he’s being attacked by a swarm of flesh-eating bat creatures, they’re all taking big bite out of his flesh, and he wakes up to the feeling of choking on his own blood.

“Over my dead body,” Robin challenged, moving from the stove with a wooden spoon covered in macaroni and cheese in her hand.

Eddie’s eyes traveled to the spoon and then back to her face. “That can be arranged.”

“Seriously, dude,” her shoulders sank. “Don’t make me hog tie you to the couch. I promised Astrid we’d keep an eye on you for another night.”

“I have a business to run, Rob,” he said as he hobbled over to grab his leather from the back of the one of the dining chairs. “If this were a hospital, they would’ve kicked me to the curb by now.”

Robin went back to the stove to stir the powdered cheese in with the noodles. She knew that no one could stop him if he wanted to go, and she really couldn’t blame him.

With her back to him she said, “if you end up getting some type of infection and your foot falls off, I won’t ever forgive you.”

Oliver came trotting out from the other room to say goodbye, and he raised his arms for Eddie to pick him up, which he did—and Robin glanced over just in time to see the grimace of pain flash across Eddie’s face as he settled the boy on the wrong hip at first before switching him to the other side. She shook her head, certain he would pop his stitches by the end of the day.

“Steve brought your bike up the hill,” she let him know, while she packed up some medications for him to take. “Your girlfriend is at work by now, I believe.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped to hers as he put Oliver down. “Why’d you call her that?”

“Isn’t she?” Robin challenged, raising her eyebrow. “I can tell you knew exactly who I was talking about.”

Eddie couldn’t help the smile that twitched across his lips.

----------

The Velvet Hammer was packed that night, and by the end of your shift, after very little food, no sleep, and one blackout, you were a bit wobbly on your feet. Steve had to work as security for a while longer, since there was a bachelor party in attendance that was getting a bit rowdy, but he demanded you let him walk you to your car while he had a smoke.

“So, I like Astrid,” you told him. He held out his cigarette to offer you a drag, but you declined with a wave of your hand. “What’s going on with you two?”

“Going on?” Steve put the cig to his lips with thumb and forefinger.

You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you made room for a group of people to pass on the sidewalk. “You know what I mean,” you insisted, knowing full well that he did. “You two seemed really close last night. I was just curious.”

“Oh, I’m fuckin’ in love with her,” Steve announced with a shrug, as if it were common knowledge. “We just don’t have a conventional relationship, I guess. No one seems to understand it but us.”

You wondered, sincerely, how many women Steve had been in love with in his life. But, you could tell that there was, indeed, something special about the connection he had with Astrid. You wondered if Eddie looked at you the way Steve had looked at her last night.

Steve hung around to make sure you got in your car okay, and then you chuckled to yourself as he sauntered off, flirting with a group of women who were walking by, asking them to come by the bar and keep him company. You were about to maneuver your way out of the precarious parallel spot you were wedged in when your eyes locked on a piece of folded paper held to the windshield under one of the wipers.

At first, you thought it was ticket of some sort, like maybe you were in a no parking zone or something. But then, at closer examination, you realized it was made with blue-lined notebook paper.

It was a handwritten note.

The street was fairly busy that night with cars zooming around town, so you were cautious as you dashed out to pinch it free and pull it back into the safety of the car with you.

It was a...little paper origami duck? Or some kind of bird? You turned it around, inspecting the intricately folded parts, giggling curiously as you did so. You unfastened the delicate edges, careful not to rip it in haste. Finally, you were able to press a flat, albeit crumpled, half sheet of paper against your steering wheel, your heart shot into your throat, melting there like a fat stick of butter.

It was from Eddie:

I miss you. Come to my place so we can talk? It doesn’t matter how late.

-- E

P.S. Oliver wants to make this into a swan for you

Hopeful tears pooled at your lash line and you checked your watch; it was just after 11:30. Surely, they’d be keeping him at Steve’s for another night? But, if so, he would’ve said that and not, specifically “his place”. You tried to fold it back exactly the way it was, failed miserably, and ended up folding it in half without messing up any of the edges to place it safely in your middle console.

For a few seconds as you sat in your car with the radio on, listening to Nearly Lost You by The Screaming Trees, you wondered if you should play hard to get, if maybe rushing over to his place was not the right game to play. But really, truly, you didn’t give a shit about any of that.

You were blinking excessively and yawning, and you had this feeling like, if you rested your head back against the seat, you’d fall asleep right there in your car. But, you took a few deep breaths and patted your cheeks. You brought a can of Coke in your bag from the bar and cracked it open to guzzle some of it, thinking maybe you’d need to go home first and change? Or go straight to Eddie’s? Fall asleep in your car was still an option.

Fuck.

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Earlier that day, around 5 o’clock, Eddie hissed as he dismounted his bike at the garage, clutching his side, trying to mask the spasm of pain, only to see Wayne watching him from the main garage. His uncle nodded in greeting, just wanting to make sure Eddie was okay, as he wiped his hands, and then turned around to finish what he was working on. So much of the communication they shared was silent, but understood.

He had the note in his pocket that Oliver had made into an origami animal, and he wanted to tidy up his place a bit before he did some work, just in case you did actually come over. If you didn’t, he wouldn’t blame you—it had been an especially long 24 hours. But, damn, he really needed to see you, to try and fix whatever had gone wrong, if he even could.

He still didn’t know what Charlene had done to upset you, but his mind reeled with the possibilities.

Eddie had ripped the bandage off his cheek on the way over, so there was just an angry gash there with a few stitches holding it together like a twist tie to a bunch of hammers, and he didn’t realize how much he resembled Frankenstein’s Monster until the new office assistance choked on her soda at the sight of him.

“Rough night?” She asked. Her name was Dana and she’d worked at garages before, but never for one that was affiliated with an MC.

“You could say that,” Eddie returned as he headed over to one of the metal filing cabinets to look for something.

Dana had a few “while you were out” slips of paper she had filled out with phone numbers and people who had wanted to speak with Eddie or Wayne, and she went over them with him while she chewed a red piece of gum.

She finished the last one and then, “oh, yeah, and someone called here looking for a…” she checked the piece of paper. “...Steve Harrington?”

Eddie nodded, taking something he needed out of the file before shutting the drawer. “He’s a buddy of mine. What’s the message?”

Dana scratched her head. “She didn’t say what it was about, just said that it was a personal matter,” she showed Eddie the pink piece of paper with a phone number and name on it. “Said her name was Christina? I don’t recognize the area code.”

“Could you look up Steve in the address book in that first drawer and relay the message for me? He’s in there under Dingus. I gotta run this out to the---”

Dana spelled out Dingus on the piece of paper, without questioning it, and then looked at the round clock on the wall, nervously. “Actually, I should’ve been gone a half hour ago. I need to pick up my daughter from--”

Eddie waved the papers in his hand. “Of course, I’m sorry I’ve been...distracted. Do me a favor and call him when you get in on Monday? I’m sure it can wait till then.”

The name Christina did not ring a bell at the time, but later on, he’d wish that it had.

--------

You decided to go home first to freshen up a bit, but also, you wanted to pick up the photos to show Eddie. Katie was asleep, but you made yourself some coffee and tiptoed around, wishing you had time to shower because you reeked of secondhand smoke, but then realized Eddie probably wouldn’t notice anyway.

You were nervous as you pulled into the gates of the compound; your heart was racing and your palms started to sweat. His black and chrome bike with the menacing, purple flock of bats on the tank was parked right up close to his door, and you angled your car right in next to it.

Once you turned your car off, you could hear the faint sound of music drifting down from the open window in his apartment. The song was Love You to Death by Type O Negative, and you glanced up just in time to see his shadow pull from the window, as if he’d been standing there, watching you drive up.

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Up in his apartment, Eddie cracked his knuckles, ignoring the fact that the skin on them was still raw and one of his fingers was probably sprained because it throbbed like a motherfucker. He wanted to make sure everything looked okay before he ran down to meet you at the front door. The TV was on mute, he’d been watching Unsolved Mysteries, but now an episode of the X-Files was starting. There were clean sheets on the bed—just in case---and he’d been on his hands and knees cleaning the bathroom for a good half hour. There was a vanilla candle burning on the nightstand, and he had lit some Nag Champa incense earlier to try and mask the fact that he’d just smoked a couple cigarettes to calm his nerves. He turned the music down a tad and wondered if Type O was too on-the-nose for such an evening, like maybe you’d think he was setting some tawdry scene, when in actuality, he listened to their music all the damn time. He had on the only pair of dark denim Levi’s he owned without holes in them, a black Faith No More shirt that had the neck and sleeves ripped off of it, and his black converse, which were a nice change from the heavy boots he always wore. He slipped his rings on and used his pinky to clean some sleep out of his eyes just before he headed down to greet you.

---------

You were just about to knock, knuckle poised in the air, when the door flew open.

“Hey,” Eddie stood there looking flushed, lips parted, dragging one hand down his stomach as his pupils dilated to take you in.

You gulped. “Hey. Is this too late? I wasn’t sure if you really meant---”

“Oh I really want you here,” Eddie stepped back, holding the door open with his body.

You were just going to walk through without making any physical contact, but then you found your body being sucked against his, as if by some gravitational pull, and you both sunk into each other. He was quick to put his arms around you, hugging you tighter, securing you to him as if your body was oxygen.

“I know we’ve got a lot to talk about,” he planted his lips on the top of your head, only removing them to speak. “I want to make it right, baby. I don’t ever want to hurt you, and I would never let anyone hurt---”

“I believe you,” you answered, moving further inside, wanting to get behind closed doors with him.

There were old, squeaky wood stairs that led up to the narrow hallway, and you held onto one of his belt loops as you followed him up, pausing so he could open the door and extend his arm for you to enter.

“So, this is where the magic happens,” you teased, taking in the open space that was bedroom, living room, and kitchen all in one. There were Iron Maiden and Slayer posters on the wall, a Harley Davidson plaque, as well as your painting, which was the first thing anyone saw when they walked in. Directly to your right was a hallway that looked like closet space and a door to a bathroom. It was a spacious, warehouse style loft with wood floors and a few round, woven rugs.

The windows...the windows were huge.

Eddie snorted at your comment, and was just about to turn around to take you into his arms again, when you bolted over to start busying yourself with lowering the curtains, starting with the window that faced the other side of the street.

“You really should keep these closed,” you told him, leaning over a table with a turntable and an 80’s style boombox. The pull did not work for the second curtain, and your frustration was mounting as you yanked at it, just as Eddie stepped over and put his hand on the cord.

“Let me do it, baby,” he met your eyes, trying to see if he could guess what had triggered such a frenzy.

While he finished dropping the blinds, you took the photos out of your bag, extending them when he turned around. You sat down at the end of the bed and watched his face as he slipped the contents out of the manila envelope to look at them.

He glanced at you a few times as he flipped through the photos, and his expression ebbed from confusion to anger and back again.

Eddie was shaking his head, hair hanging down, his strong fingers curling as if he wanted to crumple them up. “These aren’t...this is not what it looks like,” his eyes searched yours.

“I know,” you looked down, biting your top lip with your bottom teeth. “Erica told me you were set up. And Steve told me about...your other friend.”

The muscles in Eddie’s jaw tensed, teeth grinding, as his eyes narrowed on the window where most of the photos had been taken from. “Some fucker has been watching me this whole time?” The irrational part of Eddie wondered if the guy was over there, somewhere in the abandoned building, right at that moment. Maybe he should go over and introduce himself, possibly break the guys face with his own camera. Break his hands and throw him out the third story window while he was at it.

The photos were starting to make Eddie feel sick with rage, so he put them back in the envelope. Your bloodshot eyes fluttered and he could see how tired you were.

“Who would do this?” You asked, earnestly. “More importantly, why would they do it? I haven’t been here long enough to make enemies. Not of this caliber, anyway.”

Eddie put the envelope on top of the kitchen counter and sat down next to you on the bed with a heavy sigh. He had his hands resting on his knees, but then he took a chance and slid one arm over to interlace his fingers with yours, and you let him. He squeezed your hand. “It’s a long story, but a while back I made a mistake and got involved with this woman who--”

“Charlene Gregson?” She’d always been at the top of your list for someone who would have the motive for something so unnecessarily heinous.

“That’s the one,” he brought your hand over across his leg. “That’s where I went last night, to try and stop her, I suppose. I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

That made a laugh bubble out of your chest for some reason. “What was your plan? Crash through her gates on your motorcycle on a cloud of smoke and seek vengeance?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, it always works out in the movies.”

You giggled and pulled away, but then he tugged you back, and you were still smiling as he scooped his hand around your cheek and pulled you in for a kiss, little hiccups of laughter erupting between kisses tongues slipping in ever so gently; Mulder and Scully having a conversation on the TV in the background. You held onto his wrist, sinking deeper into the yearning that you always felt for him, pulling back only to rub the tips of your noses together, lips grazing.

“Stay here with me tonight?” Eddie whispered, pressing his forehead to yours. “I want to hold you.”

You were sure, you were almost positive, that you had just fallen asleep for a second while he was talking, and you blinked hard just as he lifted his eyes to meet yours.

“But I stink, I smell like the Velvet Hammer. I didn’t have a chance to shower,” you mewed, feeling your body slump further into hibernation mode as the adrenaline from the past two days wore off.

“You don’t stink,” Eddie assured you. “You can sleep in one of my shirts, and you can use my toothbrush, if you don’t mind my germs.” He had your hand in his and was holding it to his chest as he watched your face.

“I figured you’d have plenty of extra toothbrushes here for all of the copious amounts of women who sleep over,” your exhaustion was making you feisty.

Eddie gave an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I do have a few extras for emergencies. But I’ve never offered up my own personal toothbrush before.”

“Goodbye,” you chirped, standing up, ready to leave.

But Eddie chuckled and caught you around the waist, throwing you down on the bed next to him with a bounce and a grunt.

You were doing a poor job of stiffing your own laughter as you tried to keep a serious face, but then he moved to crawl on top of you and you watched his face seize in pain. He stiffened and put his hand over the area where his knife wound was, easing himself onto his back. While Eddie silently prayed that he hadn’t ripped his stitches, you went around the side of the bed to click the lamp off. You turned the TV off too; the music was on low, but that you didn’t mind.

“We are quite a pair tonight,” Eddie mumbled from the bed, slightly incapacitated, as he watched you moved around his apartment.

You loved the idea of sleeping in one of his shirts and hygiene and all that jazz, but in that moment—you weren’t sure you could last another second. Your lids were heavy and your conversation skills were at an all time low. With rubbery limbs, you climbed on the dark blue comforter of his bed and curled against him, making sure it was the side he hadn’t been stabbed on. Flat on his back, Eddie’s eyes never left you, and he was ready with his arm high and outstretched for your head to make a pillow out of his shoulder.

“I can’t keep my eyes open for another second,” you yawned. You grabbed his chest to pull yourself closer, like he was a pillow, and he kissed your forehead.

You kissed the gash on his cheek, nuzzling the hair just above his ear, planting more kisses as you went. Eddie felt his cock spring to life in his jeans and he was too exhausted to do anything about it. You cupped your hand on the side of his neck, kissed the corner of his mouth, and then finally let your cheek fall to his shoulder with a flop.

Eddie took hold of your leg at the crook of your knee to pull it across his hips, needing to feel your weight, not wanting to let you get away. He closed his eyes, drowning in the feel of your soft puffs of breath on his neck, your chest moving up and down on his arm. He planted his lips to your head again, giving a few audible smooches before he rested his torn cheek lightly against you.

He wrapped his arm around tighter, bringing you closer. “You know, Robin called you my girlfriend today,” he admitted, a low laugh rumbling from his chest.

The only response you could manage was, “mmmpfm?”

The stubble of his jaw grazed your forehead as he contemplated what he was about to say. He’d just been stabbed, and it made him consider his mortality, and the time he had left.

“I was thinking,” he breathed. “If you like the sound of that, maybe we could, make it official? That is, if you could ever see yourself having a dirtbag like me as a boyfriend.”

Your body had gone limp and, in the following seconds while he waited for a response, he heard a soft whistle in your nose and a snore catch in the back of your throat. A few drops of drool started pooling from the side of your mouth and made a wet spot on his shirt.

Eddie chuckled, peeking down at you, but trying not to move too much, not realizing he was about to drift off to sleep as well.

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You weren’t sure what time it was when your head rolled off of Eddie’s shoulder, jerking you awake, but it was dark outside, and you were still in the same position you were when you passed out: hand loosely cupping his neck, and your leg stretched across his hips. His head had rolled to the side, away from you, full lips parted, and the blue glow from the stereo cast a moody light on his skin, making his cheek wound look like something out of science fiction.

Still half asleep, you kissed the exposed muscles of his throat, right at the spot where the dark lines from his back tattoo came up across his neck, and your hand slid down his chest; you didn’t have a plan, you just wanted to feel him. His breathing was steady and shallow, eyeballs dancing under his lids. Your hand met with the top of his jeans, and then your eyes widened at the bulge that was causing a huge gap from skin to denim.

You slid your leg off of him, letting your hand move down a bit further, and your hand had to widen over his clothing to pass over the expanse of his arousal there.

Without even realizing it, you had started thrusting your hips against him, working your core against his hip, and then you lifted up to kiss his chin, aching to find his mouth with yours. You’d gone over to his place with every intention of being intimate with him, and nature had intervened with other plans, but you still wanted him to know how bad you wanted him, how much you craved him every second of the day.

Eddie groaned awake to return your kiss, and one of his hands grabbed your face. “Who is this greedy girl?” He mumbled against your mouth, his eyes droopy.

You straddled him, keeping your knees low, at his thighs, careful not to hit his wound. You started to move your core up and down along the bulge under his jeans, and then you leaned forward to brush your lips against his as you spoke. “You’re so hard, let me take care of it.”

Eddie whimpered a little in the back of his throat. “You can take whatever you want, baby,” and then a visible shiver ran through his body at the mere thought of your mouth on his cock.

You inched your way down, sucking hickeys into the dark tattoos spread across his stomach and chest, avoiding the medical tape from his bandage. Eddie moaned and threw his head back as you licked along the inside of his hip, unzipping his jeans to pull them down.

No boxers underneath, his huge cock sprang free, and the sight of the pre-cum already dripping from the pink tip made your mouth water. Eddie bit his lip while he watched you from under hooded eyes as you took control, pulled his jeans down further, and straddled his leg.

You bent over, and kept eye contact with him as you licked all the way down the shaft, and then wet the tip with your mouth, flicking your tongue along the slit, cleaning up his primal release.

Eddie pupils were blown, his lips parted as he watched.

“Whose cock is this?” You asked, teasing the tip with your wet mouth, planting hungry kisses down his shaft.

Eddie choked a little in the back of his throat. “It’s—it’s yours baby.”

He was already rock hard—throbbing, even---and your core flowered open beneath your clothes, soaking your underwear to the point that you actually had to reach down and touch yourself as you sucked him. Eddie noticed this and it made him mumble, “fuckbabyfuck,” as his leg squirmed, digging his heel into the bed.

You worked the tip of his cock with your hand while you sucked one of his balls into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at how crazy it was making him.

Somehow, between sleeping on someone else’s couch and working, Eddie had neglected to jerk off recently, and so he was about to….

“Fuck, baby, right there,” he hissed, bucking his hips. “You’re gonna make me…”

You went back to work, gripping him with hand and mouth in tandem, lips stretching to take all of him, eyes watering, swallowing his tip in the back of your throat every so often, as he watched you with a furrowed brow, cursing under his breath.

Suddenly, his breath started to hitch, and the fingers of one of his hands dug into the comforter. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby...if you want it...like that…”

He was warning you as if you’d pull your mouth off and jerk him the rest of the way, but you wanted all of it in your mouth. You moaned as you sucked at the tip, pulling the orgasm out of him, saliva dripping down his balls.

Eddie let out a whimper and his leg jerked just before he stilled, and you tasted the salty sweetness of his warm cum shoot into the back of your throat in bursts. You drank his spend like his dick was a straw, throat busy swallowing every drop, moaning as you did so. You milked the tip for all he could give you, and then you cleaned him up with your greedy tongue, planting kisses on his cock when he was done with his release.

Eddie stared at the ceiling, slightly shook. “How are you so good at that?”

You sighed a quick laugh, licking your lips, as you made your way to the bathroom to finally brush your teeth. When you came back out, he was already asleep.

------------

As your eyes opened and adjusted to a sliver of buttery light peeking in from the curtain, your mind put you in several places. First, you were in your childhood bedroom, feeling like you needed to get up and ready for school, and then you were in the more recent bed in the house you shared with Katie. But, then the Iron Maiden poster came into focus and you were slammed with the realization that you had passed out in Eddie’s bed and it was already morning. Your intention had been to take a nap for an hour or two, but now you were alert to the idea that Eddie might still be somewhere in the room.

You remembered falling asleep on Eddie’s shoulder, waking up hungry for his cock, but now you were facing in the other direction, there was a blanket over you, and someone had taken your shoes off. It was Sunday, so the garage was closed, but you could still hear voices down below and the sound of a car engine revving. You reached your hand behind you to pat the bed, but only found an empty space; either Eddie was in the bathroom or he had already gone downstairs to start his day. God, what time was it?

You rolled over to crawl across the bed to look at the digital alarm clock, inhaling the smell from Eddie’s pillow as you went, and choked a little when you saw it was almost 9:30.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled, throwing the cover off of your body. You couldn’t remember the last time you slept in for that long. A fear that you’d be late for work gripped you, but then you were reminded that you were no longer the director of a gallery, and your new job didn’t start until cocktail hour.

You found your shoes tucked neatly against the sofa, and on the kitchen counter in front of the coffee pot was a note propped up like a little tent with your name on it.

I had to run a tow.

I hope you’re here when I get back.

Thank you for taking it like a good girl last night.

-- E

Eddie and his little notes. You grinned as you folded it up and put it in your pocket, because of course you’d be saving any note he ever left you till the end of time.

It was then that a heavy fist started pounding on the door down below. “Helloooo? Anyone? What the hell do I gotta do to get some service around here?”

----------

Even though the mechanics were all off that day, the towing business was a 24 hour thing. There was another Coffin King named Lou who was usually able to cover some nights and weekends, but when Eddie found himself stuck with a pickup at the worst possible time, he tried to focus on the money and be grateful for it.

He’d considered waking you up to see if you wanted to go with him, but you were sleeping so peacefully, he didn’t have the heart to disturb you. He woke up with his cock so achingly hard thinking about what you did to him in the middle of the night, that he had to jerk off as quietly as possible in the shower that morning. He was sure you’d heard the grunt he barked when he came, thinking about filling you up, listening to you tell him how deep you wanted all of him inside of you.

The last time he went this long without having intercourse with a girl that he had feelings for was maybe his freshman year in high school. The crazy thing was, he was enjoying the feeling of waiting and making it special; even though the holding out part was totally accidental, and he would’ve jumped at the chance to bury himself inside you that very first night you met.

But the way you took care of him last night, holy shit: he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t tell if he had really found the Holy Grail of women, or if his feelings for you had made it as intense as it was; possibly a bit of both. He was seized with memories of your mouth on him off and on while he was on the job, and he’d have to slyly adjust himself in his jeans. He couldn’t wait to get back to you.

He started to whistle as he rounded the corner to re-enter the compound, hoping that your car was still there, hoping that he could….

But he spotted a different car in the lot right next to yours that hadn’t been there before, and you were coming out from out of the garage with your hand shielding your eyes, looking deeply concerned.

------------

You considered just letting whoever it was keep on knocking, but at one point, the person yelled: “Eddie! I know you’re here! Don’t make me take your bike for a spin around the block!”

And so, you put your shoes on and went down, wholly unprepared for what you would find.

There were two smiling faces practically pressed up against the glass of the main door as you descended the stairs. One was a guy with a mop of brown curls, and the woman with him had beautiful olive skin, black hair, and wore glasses. They both waved enthusiastically, happy to finally be acknowledged.

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“What the hell, Henderson?” Eddie parked the tow truck and jumped down, wallet chain flapping against his jeans. Eddie waved to you across the way, as his mouth opened into a toothy grin, exposing actual cheek dimples, that you’d maybe only seen him wear once or twice.

“If it isn’t the Dungeon Master!” Dustin came toward him with his arms out. “What the hell is up with you and Steve? You’re the two hardest losers to find!”

They hugged, and then Eddie tousled Dustin’s hair, mussing it up. “You haven’t changed a bit, you little goblin.”

Next to you, under the shade of the awning was a very pregnant Suzie, who you’d also just met. She was in a purple floral dress with a white collar, and you’d pulled a chair around for her to have a seat.

“I love to see my Dusty Buns happy again,” she said, passing her hand over the globe of her belly as you both watched the two men embrace. “We should’ve moved back sooner, but life just got away from us.”

“How do you all know each other?” You were just barely able to introduce yourself before Eddie pulled up, and so you had no idea how close the gang was.

“I’m surprised the boys never mentioned Dustin to you? They went to high school together; they’re all really close. Steve is basically Dustin’s surrogate father,” she giggled, lifting her sweet moon-shaped face to you in a soft smile.

You did feel a little self-conscious about not knowing, but there was a good reason for it. “Well, I’m...Eddie and I are…kind of a new thing.” But then you remembered that you did know a little bit about one of their old friends. “They’ve mentioned Max to me. I guess she visited a couple days ago? I didn’t get to meet her though.”

“Maxine is a riot!” Suzie exclaimed. “You’ll get you meet her and Lucas when the baby is born. They said they wanted to be here for the actual birth, but who can really tell when that will be? I’m due in a week, but I was born two weeks early, and my sister’s newest baby was born almost a month late,” her eyes got glossy. “Boy, I really can’t imagine holding this baby in for another hour, let alone another month.”

Eddie had his arm around Dustin’s shoulders as they approached, and he gave him a playful knuckle rub to the head before they parted.

Eddie greeted Suzie, and she went to stand up to hug him, but Eddie quickly bent over and kissed her on the cheek so that she wouldn’t have to move. He swallowed as he took in the enormous state of her pregnant belly. “Shouldn’t you be...resting? Is it too hot out here? Should we go inside? Are you comfortable in that chair?”

Suzie laughed. “My god, Eddie, you’re as bad as Dustin. I’m fine, I promise. I’m trying to shake this baby loose; this little person has rented out my womb for long enough.”

Eddie met your eyes and kissed you on the lips before he put his arm around you and pulled you against him.

It was the wrong side, again, and he winced.

Dustin noticed the look of pain. “What the hell happened to you?”

“He got stabbed,” you volunteered with a sheepish look on your face, tilting your head to Eddie’s shoulder.

“Oh, of course he did,” Dustin said, his mouth wide. “What else would Eddie or Steve be doing on the weekends besides mortal combat?”

Suzie looked concerned, but Eddie assured the group that he was fine. He looked you in the face as he said: “So, did you two get to meet my girl?”

Your cheeks got warm, and you ran your hand up and down his back.

“Only briefly, before you rudely interrupted,” Dustin let him know, moving behind Suzie’s chair to put his hands on her shoulders. Dustin had been worried for a while there that Eddie would never move on from his ex, and that he would always be in a dark head space in regards to romance, and so seeing him with you made his heart feel light.

“You see Steve yet?” Eddie asked. “He’ll be pissed you didn’t come to see him first.”

“Um, not like we didn’t tryyyy,” Dustin raised both eyebrows. “No one was at the house and the tattoo shop wasn’t open yet. I talked to him on the phone a few weeks ago, but we weren’t sure when we’d be in town.”

Eddie thought about that for a second. It was very odd for neither one of them to be home, especially on a Sunday morning. But, there was a chance Robin took Oliver to a shift at work with her and Steve had spent the night at Astrid’s, depending on how early Dustin had popped by.

“I’ll find him,” Eddie assured them both. “Are you staying at your moms house.”

“Hell no,” Dustin responded almost too quickly. “I mean, I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but she’s been driving us up the wall lately. We’re renting a house a few blocks away from her until everything is finalized at our new place.”

They all made a plan to meet up as soon as they could figure out where Steve and Robin were, and once they were gone, Eddie turned to you, cupping your neck to pull you against him.

“Is it okay that I introduced you as my girl?” He stroked his thumb across your chin as he asked it, chocolate eyes unsure if they should meet your gaze or watch your mouth.

You lifted up to brush your lips across his, tongue peeking out only slightly, making him groan a little. You searched his eyes, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Is that what I am?”

Eddie put his hands on your lower back and brought his head back, wanting to see your whole face. “You tell me. I wanna hear it. Are you my girl?”

You were nodding yes before he even finished. “I’ve been your girl for a long time now, silly boy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed in a chuckle, his cock growing as he met your sweet, eager mouth. He paused only to admit, “I’ve wanted you to be mine since that first day we met.”

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Of all the places Steve had hoped to wake up on Sunday morning, a jail cell was not one of them.

He made bail, and Robin was there to pick him up, giving him a dirty look as she did so. He had his sunglasses on, his Coffin Kings cut in his hand, and a cigarette bobbing between his lips as he got into the passenger seat and shut the door. The “seek and destroy” tat on the side of his neck displayed loud and proud.

“Nice shiner,” Robin said under her breath.

“Yeah, well, you should see the other guy,” Steve said, cupping his hands to light his smoke. His black eye was the only visible mark on him, but the dude he had a tussle with had gone to town on Steve’s ribs, and there would definitely be bruises there.

She made a face as she backed out of the parking spot. “You smell like vomit.”

He ignored her observation. “Where’s Ollie?”

“I dropped him at Astrid’s,” she said as she pulled her own sunglasses down from the top of her head to cover her eyes. “I didn’t want him to see this.”

“Why are you acting like this was all my fault?” Steve blanched, flicking ash out the window as they turned out of the courthouse, Somebody to Shove by Soul Asylum playing on the radio. “You don’t even know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know, Steve, that’s the point,” she barked. Her frustration with him was also mixed with a generous amount of worry. “When are you going to grow up and start walking away from danger instead of headlong into it every chance you get?”

“Oh I get it,” Steve said sarcastically. “So, you don’t care that Tina is back in town, and this had everything to do with her?”

Robin hit the breaks and turned to him so fast, a chunk of her hair stuck to her bottom lip. “What do you mean Tina is back in town?”

“Now you care?” He tapped his knee as he took another drag.

Robin felt like she forgot how to breathe, so she pulled over to park haphazardly along the sidewalk at an angle.

She turned the car off but left the air on. “You know how I feel about Tina, but please tell me you didn’t hit her.”

“Oh, fucking of course not,” Steve balked, snapping his head to look at her. He gestured to his black eye with the two fingers holding his cigarette, “this was courtesy of her new fiance. I think they were both on crack. They were waiting for me when I left work last night. Now, all of a sudden, out of the goddamn blue, Tina wants to see Oliver.”

Robin was shaking her head, gripping the steering wheel. “No, no, absolutely not,” she said, definitively. “She disappeared when he was 3 months old. No. There’s no way. She’s a drug addict, she’s a narcissist, no. Not a chance in hell.”

“I know, Rob, believe me. It’s not going to happen, okay?” Steve assured her with a wave of his hand. “At least not until she cleans her life up.”

Christina, Oliver’s biological mother, didn’t have a nurturing bone in her body, and never wanted anything to do with her son, but the fear had always been in the back of his head that one day she’d pop up like a mean, STD rash.

Robin felt her eyes getting moist and she wiped at her cheeks angrily. “Where are her and her fleabag fiance now?”

“Oh I put that scumbag in the hospital so hard,” Steve threw the rest of his cigarette out the window and licked his lips. “He’s lucky I didn’t put him in a grave. I’m sure Tina’s already changed her mind, you know how fickle and selfish she is. They were most likely on a bender and thought they’d come through town and fuck with us. They’re probably on their way back to Memphis by now. I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”

Robin swallowed a few times, trying to allow him to comfort her. She never expected or intended to fall into this roll and be a mother to Steve’s son. But, it happened. Oliver was their son now, and she loved him as much as if he had grown in her womb. And, she would fight to keep him safe with the same level of conviction.

Steve sniffed and adjusted himself in his seat. “Thank you for bailing me out, by the way.”

Robin snorted as she started the car. “Dingus, I could barely afford the gas to drive over here, and you think I had the cash to bail you out? Get real.”

Steve frowned. “Who was it, then? They said I made bail. Otherwise, I’d still be rotting in there.”

“I assumed it was Astrid? Or Eddie?”

Steve shook his head. “Eddie doesn’t know, and Astrid is in the same financial hole we are.”

Robin put the car in drive but kept the break on. “Well, who was it then?” She posed the question as both of them searched their collective data bank memories for a close friend nearby who had more than two pennies to rub together, or something valuable to use as collateral.

Hours later, they still couldn’t think of anyone.

----------

You left Eddie reluctantly so that he could go look for Steve, and you could take a long awaited shower and throw your nicotine-saturated clothes in the wash. The business card with John Gregson’s email, phone number, and private extension was on your dresser, and you stopped to pick it up as you walked across the room. You meant to bring up the situation to Eddie, but the timing was never right. Was John trying to mess with you in the same way his wife wanted to mess with Eddie? You didn’t get a bad feeling from him, but now, after everything with the photos and Charlene paying people off, you weren’t sure.

A voice inside whispered that John could be an ally if you impressed him, and he had the notion to take you under his wing. John was the one with all the power at the end of the day, and if Charlene could play with fire, well then, so could you.

You decided to give him a call first thing Monday, and hopefully make a consultation appointment with him to get a taste for what type of art piece would suit his tastes and needs. You wondered if it was for his office or home? If it was a piece for his personal space at home, would you bump into Charlene while you were there, commiserating with her husband? The idea of getting under Charlene’s skin and making her sweat a little scratched an itch in you that you had not been able to reach for a while.

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Part 11

Eddie after reader is done with him image courtesy of @tenthmoon

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It's so damn cool that some of you have made it this far and continue to want to know what goes on with reader and our boys! It warms my heart in a way I'm having trouble expressing in words xoxo

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Taglist for my other Hell's Belles and Coffin Kings ❤️‍🔥 @texasblues @sidthedollface2 @hideoutside @lilpotatobean2 @dandelionnfluff @munsons-mayhem28 @eddiemunson95 @tlclick73 @clincallyonline17 @kelsiegrin @stylesxmunson @nope-thanks @lofaewrites @layla-loves-ed @seventhlevelofhell @corrodedcoffincumslut @whatwedontdointheshadows @falling-solar-system @miarosso @kurdtbean @micheledawn1975 @lma1986 @emxcast @secretdryrose @bexreadstoomuch @ms1oftheboys @dream-a-little-nightmare @hellv1ra @manicmagicmayhem @etherealglimmer @unfocused81 @notsobubblybaby @trufflshuffle12 @aysheashea @leilalaufeyson02 @ireidsmut @trixyvixx @tenthmoon

#eddie munson x reader #eddiemunsonseries #eddie munson fic #bikereddiemunson #bikersteve #older eddie munson #older!eddie #eddiemunsonsmut #90s au #90s music #older steve harrington

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tyxaar · 3 months

Text

SCAR CRIMES LIGHTING ROUND!!!

I've been getting a lot of asks in my inbox about this post relating to Scar's crimes lol.

Indeed they are.

@numbah-7-knd and @david-tennants-left-ear I've already talked about the cannibalism here, but the soul trading comes from Last Life! He made soul contracts in order to trade Lives with other players. Also he might've sold his soul to the Vex? I dunno the lore is weird so that's mostly my own headcanon lol.

@zev-the-traveler Possesion and patricide, the perfect pair! So possession is also in the weird hazy Convex lore zone, but for a while the Vex masks possessed Cub and Scar to do their shenanigans. With that context they they end up possessing False by giving her one when she helps with a prank. Source As for the patricide, that's simple! Etho is Scar's dad in the Life Series and he murdered him all three times in Secret Life. Same for Cleo's final death! :P

@welsknightenjoyer @mocah @neurotic-sinkhole and @fuck-edfrugs Ah yes, this. The Geneva Convention violation is the only crime on the list that was committed by real life content creator Scar! He used the Red Cross symbol in the Scarland medical office. However, that symbol is protected by the Geneva Convention and it's very much a crime to use it outside real Red Cross operations.

@weirdocritter Here we go!

Well, the war profiteering in S6 was kinda iconic lol. Concorp made SO many diamonds off the civil war that Scar and Cub were actually giving them away basically to stimulate the economy by the end of the season.

The cannibalism is also a fucked up favourite, that one part where he talks FAR to enthusiastically about eating the NHO is so on-brand lol.

Trading of souls is really spooky if you take it out of its original context!

Now, the one I'm most uncertain about is Oathbreaking. That happened in Third Life with the no-kill pass, especially with the Bdubs situation. That's a bit of a toss-up but considering how much they both care about keeping promises, yeah, I'd count it.

Ritual sacrifice!!!! Actually has happened like, four times on count lol. This man can NOT stop joining cults. There's the Convex Cathedral with blood on the offering altars, there's the constant boatem hole sacrifices, there's sacrificing Bdubs to the Moon, and most recently he's tried to sacrifice his friends to the Magic Mountain Bell!!! Or, well, told them they have to at least.

Ah yes, sale of human remains!!! He tried to sell Lizzie's spine (although it was prolly Jim or Mumbo cause she died in the void lol) to Joel. It's really wild when you look at it lmao.

Identity fraud is a littttle abstract, but he's worn so many random disguises and various characters that I'm almost certain there's some in there somewhere. Also, it seems pretty damn likely that Pirates Scar "murdered" S8 Tycoon Scar in order to get off the hook (pun intended) for all of his crimes.

That's a typo I swear!!! AJKSHDsfkjhfdkjsd. Anyways, I've replaced it with Treason on the OG post now.

#goodcrimeswithscar #tyxasks #tyx’s ramblings #convex #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #mcyt #hermitcraft #trafficblr

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bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

Note

May I request more shenanigans about our Hydra boys and our knight?

Maybe this time, the reader is desperately trying to make a shopping list, and the astartes keep suggesting absolutely absurd and unnecessary things.

𝕬 𝕷𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝕺𝖋 𝕿𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Yes you may little Void! This is one of the ways I could imagine this going. Also, who taught our boi Hydra how to type?

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: You go shopping, not without a knight and a few texts of course.

TW // None?

Planning on making spaghetti tonight, I made my way into the freezer to get some meat out of it when I realized there wasn't any.

Damn it, Hydra.

I sighed, closing the freezer and took a sticky note and pen off the counter next to the fridge. Clicking the pen, I wrote down 'If you need anything I'll be at the store.' on the note before sticking it to the fridge.

Grabbing my wallet from my bag and heading out the front door. I have almost made it into my car before I was stopped by Solor. The 'Mr. No fun" I heard the Asclepius say before and well... he wasn't wrong, most of the time.

"Where you are going, my lady?" He rumbled, walking up to me while I turned around to look at him properly.

"Nowhere apparently." I groaned, knowing that most of the time Solor doesn't like going anywhere. He likes staying in one spot to make sure everything was in its order.

"So, you were going somewhere?" He asked, shifting his weight.

"No, I was going to the moon." I sassed, barely putting my hand on the handle of my car door before I was lifted up into the air and placed on the silver pauldrons of Solors armor.

"That's no way to treat your chivalry." He huffed, placing his gauntlet on my thigh, squeezing it a little.

"My chivalry?" I questioned looking down at his helmet. "What kind of chivalry kidnaps their maiden?"

"Their maiden? No, this one's all mine." He grumbled. Squeezing my thigh a little harder than before. His helmet nuzzling into my thigh too as I smacked his helmet, my hand buzzing with numbness.

"Your maiden? Since-"

His helmet looked up at me and he growled. "Don't make me take you right here and now." The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, bringing a flush to my cheeks. "Now, where are we going?"

"To the store." I mumbled, looking anywhere else but Solor.

A buzz came from my pocket while I put a jar of sauce into the cart. Pulling out my phone, I unlocked it seeing a bunch of notification's being sent to my phone.

Asclepius: Are you at the store?

Hydra: You left without me? :(

Levithan: Box?

'Yes I'm at the store. What do you need a box for?' I texted back, pushing the cart forward more.

Levithan: Box.

Hydra: Can I get a machete?

'No, you cannot get a machete.' I responded quickly, then pushed to the next aisle.

Hydra: Awww :(

Asclepius: What do you need a machete for brother?

Levithan: Box

"Yes, I'll get you a box.'

Hydra: Can I get some paint then?

Asclepius: Brother, stop ignoring me.

'No.'

Hydra: ...floaties?

'What could you possibly need floaties for? Do you even know what a floatie is?' I asked in the message. Looking up from my phone for a second to grab a box of brownies.

Levithan: Fabric.

Hydra: No, can I have a croissant lamp?

'What type of fabric? Also no.'

Levithan: Soft. Silky.

Asclepius: May I get a 3-man chess board?

'I have never heard of that, but I can look.'

Hydra: A turtle?

Ascelpius: Oh, and a bean bag chair.

'Didn't you just steal some turtles?'

Hydra: Meat?

'I'm getting some for dinner, and DON'T EAT IT.' I typed the last words clearly.

Hydra: :(

Asclepius: Beans will go well with tomorrow's dinner.

'How do you know of tomorrow's dinner?' I asked. Wondering if he's been getting into stuff he shouldn't be, grabbing the said can of beans.

Asclepius: It's a perk.

Levithan: Swimsuit.

'You. Want a swimming suit?' Thats a weird one. I can't imagine an Astartes in a swimsuit. Would their suit beneath their armor count?

Levithan: No. You.

'Me?'

Asclepius: I think he means lingerie.

Hydra: :D

Levithan: Yes.

Solor: That's enough.

Looking behind me. I gave Solor a questioning look, his visor staring back at me. My phone buzzing in my hand again as I had a sneaky feeling that Solor was doing more than just staring.

Hydra: Buzz kill.

Solor: Get back to your shopping. I've got things to do.

'Well you get back to your guarding then.' I snapped back in text. Feeling the fiery warmth of his gaze now.

Hydra: oooOooo

Another, quick notification slid down the top of the phone screen. A personal message from Solor.

Solor: 'You will not be returning home safely.'

Turning back to Solor behind me, I flipped him off. Watching as his gauntlet tightened and loosened. Another buzz coming from my phone as I looked back at it, reading his new message.

Solor: 'You will be not returning at all.'

Ah, worth it.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #x reader #yandere #yandere space marine #fanfic #fanfiction #oc: asclepius #oc: hydra #oc: leviathan #alpha legion #oc: solor #gray knight #oneshot #adeptus astartes #astartes x reader #space marine #space marine x reader #ask

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 7 months

Text

Part 15

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 14 🟣 Part 16

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of blood, biting, angst. SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face fucking, Dom!August, p-in-v sex, and we're finally putting that special little talent August has to good use. I think that's all necessary warnings, but as always; tell me if I missed something, please!

Word count: 4334! (hm, yes, beautiful number <3)

A/N: Alright! We're finally fucking some vampires - ones who don't answer to the name "Mike", that is. So I guess it's a moment we've all been waiting for... Or like... Y'all have been waiting for, I knew it was going to happen. Enjoy, loves.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @summersong69 @mis-lil-red @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld

“Hello, princess,” August yawned as he stepped into the kitchen. “Everyone’s out.” It was not a question, but rather a statement – of something so glaringly obvious that you had already figured it out before you set foot outside of Sherlock’s bed, where you had woken up. He’d been the last to feed last night, after Mike had gracefully accepted – save for some slight protesting – that you wouldn’t share his bed that night, no matter how happy you were that he was home again. Now, he was probably out to talk to some teachers about his recent absence. Sherlock had kissed you goodbye that morning at an absolutely unholy hour, to make the commute to his new workplace – a university in another city almost two hours away. Marshall was… where he always was, working some case or another until he could barely stand on his feet.

August was the only one of the guys who had taken a vacation these weeks, and you found yourself oddly grateful that you weren’t all by yourself this morning.

“Hey,” you answered, “want some breakfast?”

He laughed, taking your hands in his and leaning his forehead against yours. “Allow me,” he muttered. For the first time, you dared to ask him why he always seemed so happy to cook for you – the question made him laugh. August didn’t laugh often, but when he did… The sound was something mystical, in a way you couldn’t quite explain. “It’s my second-best way of showing you how I feel about you,” he chuckled.

“What’s the first?” You realized your error too late, and by the time you figured that out, August had you pinned between the counter and his body, with no possibility of escape.

“I could show you,” he said, grinning widely.

“You know how I feel,” you teased, hoping to get him to do the heavy lifting, which – surprisingly – he didn’t. Instead, he took a step back.

“No, princess,” he sighed, shaking his head. “That’s not gonna work.” He stepped closer to you again, putting a hand against your cheek. “I want to hear the words. From you,” he mutters, his voice dangerously void of emotions – until you look into his eyes.

“August?” With your thumb, you gently wiped the tears away. “What’s wrong?”

“Yes, I know how you feel, but talk to me, please,” he whispered softly. “I want your feelings for me to be important enough for you to say them out loud. Despite my already knowing them.”

“Oh, August, I didn’t think…”

“No one ever does,” August replied to you plainly, although there was an apologetic smile on his face. “Promise me, princess… Share your feelings with me, your desires with Mikey and your thoughts with Marshall the way you talk to Sherlock.”

Slowly, you became aware of August’s hands, resting on your hips. Resting your head on his shoulder, you leaned into him, and he responded by wrapping his arms around you. “All of them?” you asked quietly. His answer was a simple nod. You hummed – a half-chuckle that didn’t seem to surprise August at all. “You make my heart beat faster, and when you touch me, it sends shivers down my spine – even if you just hold me like this… When I think about you at night, I feel butterflies. I am so completely, incredibly and undeniably attracted to you, and I want to know you in every possible way.”

Before you had good and well finished your sentence, his mouth was on yours, eagerly moving against your lips, the coarse hair of his mustache scratching your skin. There was something uniquely romantic about the way he kissed you, as if you could feel the walls he normally had put up around him fall away – as if he was really letting you in for the first time since you’d met him.

After some time, he broke your kiss, holding your face in his hands. He moved away, leaving you looking into a pair of hungry blue eyes. “Can I take you to bed?”

You gasped your answer – a clear, resounding ‘yes’ – and nodded as his eyes begged you to temporarily waive the ‘human speed’ rule in the house, which you gladly did for him in this instance.

When your back his the mattress, you laughed. “You need this, don’t you?”

“’Need’ is a strong term,” he chuckled, laughing when he saw your puzzled expression. August pulled you into his side, where you quickly got comfortable.

“There’s something about you, August,” you sighed. “Something that’s not entirely like the others. Something…”

“A little deviant?” he asked, using your words from the day before. You nodded. That was exactly what you were getting at. “I’m surprised you noticed. Most of my kind… or kinds, I suppose, don’t.” He absentmindedly ran his hand over the arm you had lying across his chest. “I’m not a full vampire.” Now that was surprising… “I wasn’t bitten, I was born. About four hundred years ago. I am a vampire – my father was one. My mother, however… She was a succubus.”

“Succubus as in… female sex demon?” you asked, slightly confused by the revelation that those, too, existed.

“Put bluntly, yes,” August chuckled softly. “They’re quite rare, and there’s not a lot known about them, unfortunately. It’s said they need semen to survive, which we know isn’t true, but it’s a rather persistent piece of folklore. They feed off energy of a sexual nature – orgasmic nature, to be precise.”

“Do you?” It didn’t sound like much of a problem to you if he did.

“Yes and no,” he answered vaguely. “It can’t sustain me, but it’s a very nice snack. My gifts to feel and influence other’s emotions seems to be a result of my mother’s proclivity for perceiving those energies…”

“So, when you say ‘nice snack’…” Your voice trailed off, but August laughed understandingly, anyway.

“I mean I’m going to make a point of making you cum so many times you won’t be able to stand,” he growled in your ear before chuckling. “You like it when I talk to you like that, don’t you, princess?” Instead of answering him, you squirmed in his arms. “I love how comfortable you are around us,” he said suddenly, taking you by surprise – to say the least. Nevertheless, you knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s very… liberating,” you said slowly, “not being able to hide from you guys… At first it scared me, but now – ever since the agreement, I’m sure you noticed – I don’t want to hide anything from you anymore.”

“Nothing at all?” August asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. What could he possibly be up to now? Hold on…

“What’s the… range on this gift of yours, Walker?” you snapped, slapping him on the shoulder out of reflex, hurting your hand in the process. “Do you just go around listening… feeling in on my, eh… private time with Mike?”

“I try not to,” he replied apologetically. ‘Try’. A very nice word to hide a ‘yes’ behind. “Sometimes I can’t help it… You and Mike – especially Mike, unfortunately – are very loud in your affection for each other. When you first moved here it was so bad I had to leave the house on occasion…”

“August!” you shrieked, pulling the pillow from under your head and putting it over your face to hide your embarrassment – completely unsuccesfully, of course. Your cheeks were burning, and you were overwhelmed by shame – not just because August knew some extremely intimate details about your sex life, but also – if not mostly – because you found that really, really hot in a way you couldn’t describe, even if you tried.

“Marshall couldn’t stand the two of you, either,” he chuckled, “but he didn’t feel the same way I felt about you back then.” Right… August had a thing for you when you first moved into the apartment… “I can tell you’re curious,” he laughed, “it wasn’t a crush so much as a… craving. It’s not gone – it never went anywhere, if I’m being perfectly honest with you.”

“A succubus-craving?” you asked, putting the pillow back where it belonged.

“Incubus, technically, but yes.” He turned his head, laying his forehead against your temple. The soothing baritone of his voice seeped right into your bones, making you shiver, and an involuntary moan escaped you. “It’s a very intense need to see that you’re taken care of.” August startled you by gently sucking your earlobe into his mouth, and biting down on the soft flesh, making you gasp. “And I would have preferred to be the one doing it myself, but as long as he managed… And from what I’ve gathered over the past months, he manages just fine…” His voice was nothing but a low growl now, with a jagged, feral edge to it that effortlessly caused goosebumps. “But today…” “It will finally be you,” you sighed. Fact of the matter was that you had been waiting for this moment as much as he had – although maybe not for quite as long.

“Well… I need you to do something for me first,” August said softly while he grabbed your hand and guided it between your legs. “Touch yourself. Cum for me. Let me know how it feels…”

“You know how it feels,” you muttered. It had only been a few months since you first had sex with the lights on, for crying out loud, and now August, who wasn’t your boyfriend, wanted to watch you finger yourself until you came so he could what? Get off on it himself? This was beyond scary…

“I want to know what it feels like when you know I’m watching you,” he growled, “you’re different like this, just like you’re different when you’re by yourself. Sometimes I wish I had Marshall’s gift, too, so I could know if it’s different depending on which one of us you’re thinking about.” With every word your heart rate climbed higher and your cheeks burned hotter. “You do think about us, don’t you?” There was no point in lying, but there was also no way you could speak, so you nodded. While August was talking, your fingers had started to move as if by magic, drawing circles around your clit. Soon, you found yourself restricted by your underwear, and you slipped your hands underneath the fabric. “All of us?” Another nod. “Separately?” The question pulled you away from your self-induced pleasure; your eyes flew open and your muscles cramped. When your eyes met August’s, it was like he’d tapped directly into your most private thoughts. Maybe you hadn’t been speaking the whole truth when you said you had nothing to hide from them anymore. But it was no use trying; August may not have been able to read your mind, but he had certainly felt your heart skip that proverbial beat when he mentioned it – as if your eyes didn’t give away everything anyway. Despite your obvious terror, August didn’t seem prepared to drop the subject. “Hm, I’d be up for it.”

“What?” You hadn’t really expected that to be his response to your half-admitting to having thoughts of fucking more than one of your housemates at the same time…

“After a few centuries…” he made a vague gesture you were not sure you understood the meaning of.

“Does it get boring?” you asked.

“Never,” he nuzzled your neck, occasionally pressing his lips to your skin. “It always feels different.” His hand covered yours and gently guided it back into your panties. “Please,” he muttered, “keep going. I need to know.”

Your fingers seemed to move on their own again, but this time, you didn’t get distracted by the words August muttered into your ear: “You’re killing me, princess. Cum for me, please.” After that, he showered you with praise, every word of it bringing you to new heights until you finally exploded. August let out a loud gasp. “Fuck, princess you’re delicious.”

“Right,” you chuckled while trying to catch your breath, “incubus-snack.”

“And a catalogue-building moment,” August chuckled mischievously.

For a moment, you wondered what he could possibly mean by that, and then you felt it; another orgasm building inside of you, steadily and very quickly, and without a single touch.

“Are you serious?” you laughed.

August responded with a dark chuckle. “Until you can’t stand, princess,” he reminded you of his promise from before while he continued to push you towards your sexond climax without so much as lifting a finger. “Be a good girl and cum for me again.” Naturally, you were more than happy to oblige, and August roughly pulled you into his side – almost hurting you – when you came again, whispering another comment about how good it was in your ear as you did.

“Are they as good as the… manually obtained ones?” Weird way of putting it, but for lack of a better way to say it…

“Every bit as good,” August hummed contently, “I could do this all day.” Honestly? So could you… Sure, your muscles would get tired eventually, but the lack of friction meant you could likely keep this up for quite a while. Besides, you doubted that August’s gift would let itself be stopped by a little leg-cramp. “The one thing that’s better…” His voice trailed off as he slowly kissed his way down your neck, his hands slipping underneath the old t-shirt you wore to bed. Without thinking, you reached for the hem and pulled it over your head, leaving August chuckling at your sudden eagerness. Your hands moved to undo the buttons of his shirt, but you soon got distracted and allowed tourhands to roam his chest.

“The scars…” you whispered as your fingers trailed the raised crescent lines on his chin.

“Paris in the nineteenth century was a dangerous free-for-all,” he sighed wistfully, “it was swarming with vampires and other creatures. Succubi, incubi, werewolves, vampires, some monsters you’ve never even heard of. Feeding was a criminal offence, and this was France, so breaking the law didn’t typically end well.”

“Yet you seem to remember it fondly,” you said bitterly, biting the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying something stupid. “What was her name?”

“Miriane,” August answered. “And his name was Elias, in case you were going to forget about that question.”

“Was she like me?” you asked. “Or was he?”

“He was,” August remembered, “but she found him, and he was hers – and so was I. Admittedly, I was first, but… like I said. Free-for-all. My gift made it easier to find willing victims, but as you can see, I got attacked a lot. That ended with him. Until…”

“What happened?” you asked breathlessly, looking at August with wide eyes.

“I left,” he snapped. Clearly that was the end of that line of inquiry…

“Who attacked you?”

“Other vampires. Ones without powers. Ones with powers that were less useful in those particular instances. Most of us didn’t want to kill to survive, but few had the option. I guess one would consider me lucky, even though I hardly have what’s considered an ancient gift.” He scoffed, then smiled, sensing your confusion. “Sherlock’s is – the compulsion, I mean. My father has it, too. Unsurprising, since he and Sherlock were turned by the same man.”

“So Sherlock is more or less your uncle?” you asked with a barely discernible smile on your face.

“Oh, please, no! Trying to impose human family ties on vampire covens is next to useless and will quickly make several things very, very awkward,” August laughed, laying his head on your chest. His hand moved up to cup your breast – which he somehow managed to do incredibly casually.

“Awkward, how?” Why? Why did you always have to know? The answer would probably make things awkward and…

Luckily, August was smarter than you in this particular instance: “After, princess.”

And that was the end of your conversation; August turned his head to wrap his lips around your nipple, and that was your cue to cease any and all rational thinking. So, this was wat patience felt like? Several centuries of practice in restraint? Paired with the ability to feel exactly what each move did to you… All those things put together should have made him better than Mike in more ways than one – maybe even more than the obvious – but weirdly enough, they didn’t make him better so much as exquisitely different. You’d become used to the way Mike would spend a whole lot of quality time with your boobs, so the fact that August moved on relatively quickly only to tease you relentlessly when he settled between your legs was almost disappointing in a way.

“I’m not Mike, princess,” August laughed when you tangled your hand in his hair in an ultimately unsuccessful attempt to pull him to where you needed him most.

“I know that,” you huffed, scowling down at where August was busy scraping his teeth over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Immediately, his icy blue eyes shot up, meeting yours.

“Do you?” He raised an eyebrow in that way that made you want to punch him and bit down harder on your leg. “I might even try Marshall’s favorite technique,” he said indifferently, a grin spreading on his face as you struggled to remember what he meant by that. Oh no! August chuckled when your expression told him you finally remembered. Another nip at your thigh was followed by the wet warmth of his tongue soothing the sting of the playful bite, and finally another stinging sensation as he sucked on te sensitive skin.

“Do you know you’re not Mike?” you chuckled. He rolled his eyes at you. Why did it make you so happy when he did that? Simply because he looked so incredibly hot while doing it? Then again, when did this man not look incredibly hot?

He stuck to that one love bite, and seemed to decide that that was plenty of teasing for today. As it turned out, being able to feel exactly what you felt was as good a gift as being able to sense desires. Honestly, it was such close competition that you wouldn’t dream of trying to figure out which was better – even more so because it would cut into your ‘enjoying being eaten out’-time. As if you had a prayer at thinking straight while August worked your pussy with his mouth, anyway; as soon as he flattened his tongue against your clit, it was over for you. Your back arched off the bed and you tangled your hand in his hair to pull him closer.

He finished you in no time, chuckling as he kissed his way back up your body again.

“I need you inside of me, now.” Whoever this breathy, more-moan-than-anything-else voice belonged to, it couldn’t be you, could it?

“Good girl,” August murmured. A few swift moves later, he was naked. You let your eyes travel down his body and sighed. He looked just as good as you’d imagined. “Let me take care of you.” Another orgasm hit you out of nowhere as August teased you by sliding the tip of his cock along your slit. It startled you – unnecessarily, of course. You just hadn’t noticed him putting on a condom. Fucking vampires – literally.

“Please stop teasing me,” you pleaded, “and come here.” Pulling him in was a fruitless endeavour, as always – annoying the everloving hell out of you, as always. And as always, the alternative – him indulging you – would have made matters so much worse. So he stayed put, teasing you more, until you were a squirming, whining mess underneath him, and he had an insufferably cocky grin on his face as he made you cum again, and again. You’d already lost count – but his eyes clearly told you that he hadn’t. “God, I wish you were Mike,” you blurted out. It was a lie – you were happier than happy to be here with August right now, but damn the man could do with half the patience he had.

A sadistic chuckle escaped him. “You’re so incredibly desperate for me,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it could feel this good.”

“Another snack:?” you asked sarcastically – and before you registered any movement at all, August’s hand was on your throat.

“It’s that attitude, or my cock, princess,” he snarled, “you can’t have both.” The pressure on the sides of your throat increased slightly, and you gasped. The next orgasm felt different – heightened, in a way, no doubt by the way he handled you right now. “So, which is it?”

As far as you were concerned, this condescending asshole could go to hell – which you didn’t neglect to tell him. Did it have the predicted effect? Absolutely. Did it have the desired effect? Not even close.

He dragged you up by your hair. “Knees.” Not a question. Very, very much not a question. It was also impossible to disobey him, as he still held much of your hair in a tight fist at the back of your head. “Open.” You had to give Mike credit; when he’d done his little failed experiment, his August-impersonation had been eerily on point. Which, of course, you hadn’t known at the time. But now… now you knew. And God, it suited August so much better – although he’d already shown you he could easily do ‘sweet and caring’, too.

Despite the orders shooting straight for your clit, you opened your mouth with the utmost reluctance, helped along by August’s piercing glare and a very persistent thumb that all but forced its way into your mouth. You made a few quick mental notes for comparison – you simply couldn’t help it. Mike was all about sensations; temporarily taking senses out of the equation, heightening others, playing with them, blending pain and pleasure… August didn’t give a damn about sensations. And who could blame him. He could already make you feel anything he wanted without lifting a finger… This was about control. And he was going to have to fight for it. At least that’s what you would have bravely thought about the whole situation if you hadn’t had cock stuffed balls deep down your throat, tears gathering in your eyes, and a ruthless man hovering over you, making you gag around him.

He fucked your mouth like he owned you – and he wasn’t wrong about that. You couldn’t move away from him, you couldn’t breathe, and the tears blurred your vision to the point where you couldn’t see, but you didn’t panic, finding comfort in the thought that August could feel exactly what you were feeling. A few months earlier you’d never thought you’d feel this way, but now you trusted him to take care of you on such a deeply intimate level, that you instinctively relaxed around him. He wouldn’t hurt you.

“That’s my good girl,” he said softly as his grip on your hair relaxed a bit. Oh, he still held you in place, but not with the same iron grip he’d used before. This was softer, gentler and something vaguely reminiscent of a kind of trust.

Surely enough, he soon let go of your hair altogether. “Keep going.” His voice was gentler now, but you didn’t dare make the mistake of assuming anything was up for negotiation. Despite your realization, his hand found its way to the back of your head again rather quickly, nudging you along. “You can do better than that,” he said as he pushed himself deeper into your throat until you were taking all of him again. “Perfect.”

When he let go of your head again, you quickly found yourself in the same predicament. “Just because I let go of you, princess,” he grunted, a tinge of annoyance to his voice, “doesn’t mean you don’t have to take every inch of me. Come on.”

He didn’t allow you to stop sucking him off until you were taking all of him, all by yourself – and for a good while. As you did, he kept giving you those little compliments that made your heart beat faster. Somehow, knowing he knew exactly what his words did to you made it even more exciting. By all means, you should feel terrifyingly exposed, unable to hide from him and his gift – or any of the others – but you didn’t. It was, as you’d mentioned before, very liberating to have them know everything.

After some time, he pulled away, sinking to his knees in front of you, cradling your face in both hands as he wiped away your tears with his thumbs. “You did so well, princess,” he whispered, leaning in so he could press his lips to your forehead. “Now be a good girl for me and get on your knees on the bed so I can fuck that pretty little pussy.”

You had to admit, as you very willingly – eagerly, even – crawled onto the bed again, that August had already done a very good job of fucking the attitude out of you, and something told you he hadn’t even really started.

This time, he didn’t tease you. He just sank into you with one smooth thrust.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunted, his tone suggesting he was going to say more, but he didn’t – or, more accurately; he couldn’t. His near-continuous stream of moans was interrupted only by the occasional swearword as he set an intense pace. With every thrust, your walls clenched around him, your thighs quivered and your fingers’ grips around the sheets tightened. “I’m gonna make this short,” he growled as his hand found it’s way into your hair, and he pulled you up until your back hit his chest. His final thrusts into you were merciless, and another orgasm rippled through you – his doing – exactly at the same time August reached his own peak.

Moments later, the vampire had taken care of cleanup and he held you snugly against his chest, where you quickly threatened to doze off, if it weren’t for Mike, who came home at that moment.

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beanyboobee · 3 months

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Random theories of mine:

1. What were the Archvisites?

2. Teachers out here scheming

3. How does vanitas die?

What were Archvisties to vampire society? I keep wondering that because I find it so curious how so very few people actually know what they are, and the only ones we have seen who know right away are count orlock, chloe and Ruthvan, all high ups in vampire society, while those of lower status, aka count Orlocks servents, Jean Jacqes, didn't know until they were told.

Surely if Archivistes were well known their massacre would still be remembered as it wasn't that long ago [if we go by Noes age] but yet the servent of Orlocks who does know what an Archvisite is, refers to the massacre as happening 'long ago'

Concidering how long some vampires live, isnt it odd for them to refer to something not even 20 years old as a long time ago ?

We also know Archvisites are differant to regular vampires, as Dominique claimed vanitas wanted to use noe for his unique abilities, (abilities not just ability to see memories), how it (presumably) took longer for chloes potion to kick on for him

Not to mwntion- SPOILER FOR THE LATEST CHAPTER CHAPTER 61

how Noe is already starting to recall what Ruthvan did to him, which shouldn't be possiable if Ruthvan is more powerful than him.

Moving into another theory that I mentioned before but I keep finding more and more proof for,

I think EVERYTHING since the beginning has been planned by teacher, everything, not just the small things. From him just os happening to find noe at an auction, as far as we know the teacher didn't have any others in the mansion so he just so happend to go to a human auction and find the last remaining archvisite? As we know noe added that the vampires who kidnapped hom mistook him for a human?

It was almost as if Noe was the main peice of the story the teacher wanted to see play out. Not to mention in Domiques first appearance she says this-

Who told her where Noe was? Realistically how would anyone know that Noe was with count Orlock? Unless count orlock told someone and it got passed on? But the only person who knew noe was in Paris was the teacher.

The teacher sending a letter to count orlock with Noes full name and asking him to help Noe with anything he needs is also weirdly suspicious because there was no need to give out Noes full name unless he knew the effect it would have.

I am also of the mindset that everything happening is a timeloop, of this situation has played out time and time again, from the conversation lady Archvisitie and the teacher have in Chapter [ 58]

That his excitement at Noe coming with him, "Yes I am having fun because you came with me" implying Noe had a choice not to come, and as we know Teacher loves throwing around the word "choice" an awful lott.

If it is true abiut this being a time loop or some sort of time shenanigans, Noe could be the slightly differant thing Lady Archvisite and Teacher discussed in chapter [58 and 59 ]

One small "choice" can change the entire direction of a story after all.

Also final theory, Vanitas Dies by Noe not grabbing his hand when crossing the portal, I'm still of the mind the story will end with Atlus crumbling. And Vanitas will be trapped in the middle world because Noe didn't grab his hand. Why? Simple, I like to think this scene is foreshadowing

Noe keeps moving between saying- he killed vanitas by his own hand, and, he regrets not grabbing his hand that day, the death of vanitas won't be this big and major gruesome thing like we are led to beleive but rather him being stuck in a void, as it would also explain vanitas saying this during his 'death'

As we know Noe is an unreliable narrator, he blames himself for alott of things that happend, and tends to overexagerate how much of a part he played in the tragedy, as we can see during the whole Louis situation, he holds alott of regret and blames himself for it to the point even years later Domi has to remind him it wasn't his fault, so by him saying he killed Vanitas by his own two hands, it could be something as simple as him- being unable to catch vanitas in time. Or hesitating before holding onto him because Vanitas might of been the to let go.

There was enough of time between Vanitas dying and Noe somehow being the cause of it, for Vanitas to give him the reassurance that he won't die that he just won't be apart of this world,

It could of been said in a similar fashion to how Jean jauqes forced Noe to drink his blood so someone would remember hom and chloe, because if we think about it in that sense. He could of meant he won't die because Now will always be around to remember.

Making Vanitas a figure similar to the shapeless one or lady archvisite; who mainly seem to operate and live in the between world.

#myart #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vanitas #vanitas anime #vanitas no carte manga #vanoe #vanoe fanfic #memoir of vanitas #les memoires de vanitas

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rp-meme-central · 9 months

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Chikn Nuggit - pt. 2 - sentence starters

1. “Don’t look so disappointed. I want a treat, but I can bite you too if you like.”

2. “I’m gettin’ stronger. I just don’t got time for nonsense no more.”

3. “Hey. I just wanted to tell you, you’re very pretty. Have a good day.”

4. “Hey. You been messing with my ______? Good job! They deserve it.”

5. “Are you sad?! No! Not on my watch! No sadness in my house.”

6. “Do not despair, for time is an infinite dance!”

7. “Come to taunt mortals again? Well, there’s nothing disasterous you can do while I’m around watching over these guys.”

8. “Do not taunt me, sexy dark version of my partner!”

9. “Did you make that costume yourself? It’s so cool! Stellar craftsmanship, dude!”

10. “Isn’t glitter beautiful? It adds a sparkle to everything it touches.”

11. “I like glitter too! Once it enters a space, it never leaves! It’s particles permanent and unending!”

12. “Can I tell you a secret? I really like _____! Like... like-like. I just gotta work up the courage to ask her/him/them out.”

13. “Cool void you got here. More fun this way, instead of all those complicated, boring defined spaces, huh?”

14. “Sometimes it feels like I’m just a puppet on a stage, available for whatever shenanigans happen next.”

15. “Do I even count as lgbt if I’ve never dated anyone? Are there rules?”

16. “You do count. If you’re lgbt, you’re lgbt.”

17. “Sometimes, it feels like there’s these gaps in my memories. I can’t remember what stuff was like before I met _____.”

18. “Can I try some? I’ve never had coffee before.”

19. “You didn’t ask _____ out yet?! You mortals only got so much time.”

20. “If _____ can put the fear of god into you, then so can I.”

#rp memes #sentence starters #Chikn Nuggit

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literallyjustanerd · 1 year

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Scenes From The Caf Hall

So I had a lot of ideas for fun clone shenanigans but none substantial enough for full fics, so I put them into a sort of montage of moments I like to believe have gone down in the GAR caf at mealtimes. No consistency in timeline, just some harmless clone fun. Enjoy!

Note: one of these scenes references there being an abundance of Chancellor Palpatine biopics in the Star Wars universe. I saw someone mention that that would be funny in a text post once but try as I might I cannot find who that was. If you know what I'm talking about please let met know so I can credit them for the inspiration!

“I’m not kriffing drinking it, Fives. I won’t do it.” Fives lets out a low, pained groan as he drops his tray on one of the benches, head lolling back in a heavy circle over his shoulders. “Then don’t,” he says, for at least the third time. Echo pays him no mind. He may as well be speaking to himself. “Why would they change it? The one good thing I could count on every day, but no, let’s take that away, too. Kriffing Republic budget cuts. Kriffing quartermasters…” Hardcase is already grinning when he joins the two, watching in amusement as Echo’s rant fades to a low, sharp muttering. “What is it this time?” he asks, sounding almost excited. Echo is too busy stabbing at his salad like he wants to draw blood to answer.

“They changed out the brand of tea in the stores,” Fives says, head propped up on his fist. A hand slapped across Hardcase’s chestplate accentuates his feigned shock. “Not your precious Tarine!” he gasps. “What would they ever replace that with?” Oblivious or uncaring of Hardcase’s mocking tone, Echo’s fury is reignited. “Generic brand.” He spits the words like poison and scowls at the taste they leave in his mouth. Like they’re profanity. Which is ironic given how he continues; “I’ll be karked nine ways into the void before those shabuire make me drink the osik’la generic brand.” “Nobody’s making you drink it, Echo,” Fives reminds him, though by now he’s resigned, fully aware that he is little more than background noise. Echo growls at his tray. A couple of nearby shinies speed their steps to hustle past their table.

“Personally, I could never taste the difference,” Jesse pipes up. He’s so unfazed by the scene that nobody had even noticed him sit down. Fives sighs. That was not the right response. “The difference is night and day!” Echo blurts, voice surely close to reaching the upper limits of pitch. “They’re making us drink dirt water!” “Not making you,” Fives mumbles. “We lay down our lives for their war every day and this is how they repay us?” “Bit dramatic.” “We work our shebse off and you’re telling me I can’t even get a decent brew after an eighteen hour shift?” Fives pauses, tilts his head. “Yeah, no, okay. That’s fair.” At last, Echo acknowledges his presence in the form of a single, righteous nod.

Across the table, Hardcase flashes that look like a child about to poke a sleeping loth cat. “Why not just drink caf instead?” Echo falls deadly silent, eyes narrowed to a slit. His response is whip-fast. “Why don’t I just shoot you right here?”

***

“Telling you, things got wild that night. Don’t remember most of it, of course, but man, it was fun.” Waxer’s pride swells at the awed gazes across the table. His new 212th vod’ike, the gold on their armour barely dry, eyes wide with awe and demanding to know more of their superiors’ exploits. It’s like a drug, the wonder and admiration, and by now the 212th veterans know the best way to get it. Battle stories were great for gaining respect, sure, but if you wanted to really wow your rookies, stories of shore leave misadventures were far more effective.

“We woke up the next morning in a motel room on the lower levels,” Boil recounts with a grin. “No clue how we got there.” “What about the twi’leks?” one shiny demands, on the edge of his seat. “The ones from 79’s, what happened to them?” Waxer and Boil share a smirk, and Waxer delivers the kicker. “No idea,” he chuckles. “But they each left one of their numbers written on our vambraces.” “I really oughta call him sometime,” Boil muses. “See if they’re free again for this New Years’.” “She really was something else,” Waxer affirms. The shinies have gone silent before them, smiles wiped clean and suddenly sitting bolt upright. It takes the lieutenants a painfully long moment to realise why.

“Sorry to interrupt, troopers,” Cody says from behind the pair, sending bolts of ice through their veins, “but this wouldn’t happen to be last New Year’s you were talking about, would it?” Waxer and Boil both fall over themselves, mumbling sheepishly in the affirmative. “Interesting…” Cody hums. “Because I seem to remember things taking place differently.” “O-oh, is that… Is that right, Commander?” Waxer sputters, and tries immediately to move the conversation on. Cody doesn’t let it. “That’s right. As I recall, the two of you had to be carried out of 79’s well before New Year struck, and sent back to the barracks in a cab, drunk off your sorry faces.” Boil swallows audibly. He too is cut off when he tries to speak. “Can’t remember which one of you it was who was crying at the time, though.” His face is trained, his smile thoroughly measured, though his amusement is still glaringly clear. “Strange how our memories play up, isn’t it?”

He leaves it at that, and turns to walk away. One of the shinies, evidently a bold one, pipes up from the table, much to the horror of his batchmates. “Commander,” he calls, and Cody pauses in his step, turns back to face them. “How would you know what happened that night, unless… unless you were at 79’s, too?” After a moment’s pause, Cody merely flashes a grin. He turns to walk away, throwing one last comment over his shoulder: “Welcome to the 212th, boys.”

***

It’s been on Jesse’s mind for a while, but only now does he get the chance to bring it up. “There are three pieces of cake on your tray,” he says. Kix doesn’t look up from his work, datapad in one hand and sandwich in the other. He looks tired, but then, Kix always looks tired. “Very observant, vod. Good job.” “You got out of night shift last week.” “Mhmm.” “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on fresher duty.” “Okay?”

Jesse rolls his eyes, peeling the lid off his preserved jogan fruit. As if to illustrate his intended point, another trooper passes by their table and surreptitiously slides a pack of biscuits across to Kix like it’s a drug deal. When Jesse’s raised eyebrow gets no response, he clears his throat pointedly. Kix finally stops tapping away at his pad. “Why does everyone keep giving you their stuff?” Jesse demands. He doesn’t like the responding smirk that passes across Kix’s face. “Why do you think?” he asks, amusement tinging the edges of his words. Jesse sighs, lacking the energy to play this game. “Would I be asking if I knew?”

The look Kix gives is weary, bemused. He drags a hand over his eyes and takes a short, sharp breath, then begins. “Being a medic sucks.” “…Uh-huh?” “Long hours, always on call, the datawork never ends. People expect me to heal three-inch stab wounds in three minutes.” Jesse’s brow furrows, hoping there’s a point to this beyond his brother’s bitching “I’m… sorry?” “But as much of a pain in the gett’se as it is,” he says, finishing the sentence around a mouthful of cake, “being in charge of keeping all you di’kute alive it has its upsides.” Jesse can only roll his eyes. “Quit being so mysterious and get to the point.” Kix sighs sharply. “Jesse, I haven’t paid for a drink in over two years.” But the dots remain unconnected, Jesse’s expression still perplexed.

Begrudgingly, Kix sets the datapad down on the table and adjusts so he’s fully facing Jesse. He scrolls back on the pad through a plethora of files until he finds one. Jesse suddenly feels like a cadet again, called into his sergeant’s office. “0742 hours. Morning after last year’s Festival of Stars. You presented to medbay. Do you remember what for?” Kix needn’t have asked the question: a searing flush has already flooded Jesse’s skin, one that draws a sadistic grin from his vod. “Don’t worry, I’ve seen it a hundred times before and since. Never in that place, though...” Jesse’s head is in his hands as Kix continues. “Didn’t know how you’d managed it at first. Course, you told me the whole story. Spotchka and pain meds are great at loosening tight lips.”

“You kept that on file?” Jesse says in a strangled whisper. Kix shrugs, unfazed. “I’m required by Republic protocol to keep a record of all assessments and procedures carried out.” Jesse’s eyes fall to the extra cakes on Kix’s tray. Kix’s smile grows, tapping his datapad proudly. “And I carry out a lot of procedures.” Jesse curses under his breath, eyes wide in the dawning realisation. “How much dirt do you have on us?” he breathes, caught somewhere between awe and abject horror. Leaning his elbows on the table, Kix raises an eyebrow and grins.

“All of it, vod. You boys are animals,” he chuckles. “The things I’ve seen…” “You mean like—” “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse.” “What about—” “Worse.” “You don’t mean—” Kix leans further forward over the table, tilting his head down at Jesse. “Worse.”

Jesse swallows, leans back in his seat and acquiesces to Kix’s warning look. As much he itches to dig further, he knows Kix is probably doing him a favour by keeping the details obscured. “So. There you go. Maybe I get out of fresher duty. But with what I see on a daily basis, I think I’m within my rights to a few gratuities in exchange for my discretion about certain topics,” he says. “Like someone’s very inventive use of contraband fireworks…?” An uncomfortable silence falls between them, dragging on until Kix finally breaks it, eyeing Jesse’s tray. “Say, that jogan fruit looks—” Jesse’s handing it over before Kix has finished the sentence.

***

“Eight times in the last week he’s lost it. Three in one day, once. One of these days I’m going to weld that blasted saber to his hand.” Rex is slumped in his seat, shaking his head at the table. His brothers all murmur their commiserations around him, in various states of consciousness. Beside him, Cody jolts upright after almost falling face-first into his mug of caf for the fourth time. Ponds puts down the spoon he’s been using to mindlessly stir his porridge for the last ten minutes straight. “Least your general lets you have fun. General Windu makes us do weapons inventory and maintenance in every single minute of free time,” he grouses. Rex huffs. “I wish General Skywalker would order us to do weapons maintenance. I’m the only reason anything gets done in the 501st.” He gets a few affirming moans, half-hearted complaints about their own generals neglecting the more unglamorous responsibilities of commanding a battalion.

“You all have it easy.” It’s Fox who throws in next, hauling himself up from where he had been splayed across Wolffe’s back. He waves away the answering protests with a lazy hand. “Didn’t you go to the theatre last night?” Bly retorts. The disdain in his voice gives away his expression, which remains unseen; he’s on his back on the floor beside the table. The jab gives Fox a sudden burst of vindictive energy. “I did, Bly. I did go to the theatre last night. And do you know what I saw?” he says. “I saw another kriffing biopic on Chancellor kriffing Palpatine’s noble and heroic rise to power.” He spears a fillet of grey meat on his tray. “If I have to sit through another minute of some actor the Chancellor wishes he looked like making an empowered speech about the sacrifices he’s made for his people, you’ll all see me at the tribunal when I’m court marshalled and decommissioned.” The others say nothing, dredging up little more than sympathetic winces or groans. A few note that Fox’s hair seems just a little greyer than it did the last time they met up.

“General Kenobi jumped off a cliff on our last assignment on Onderon,” Cody offers a short time later to break the silence. He’s barely lucid enough to mumble the words. Nobody is at all surprised by the report. After a long draw from his caf, Cody continues, seeming bored by his own words. “Found him at the bottom totally unharmed and petting a bogwing. Asked him how he knew it would be there and let him ride it down, and do you know what he said?” The vode raise their weary voices to join him in chorus for the answer: “He didn’t know it would be there.”

Silence again. Someone snores, though it’s impossible to tell who and nobody can be bothered to try. Those awake enough to think straight mourn the state of the evening so far. It was a small miracle that this many of them were all in the one place to begin with. They’d planned for drinks at 79’s after dinner. And maybe they’d still rally and somehow make it out there. Maybe, with enough caf and the GAR’s famous resolve. But for now, they’re a sorry sight to behold. Soundly and thoroughly defeated. “Why does General Yoda talk like that...?” It’s Gree, his voice a pained whimper, muffled against the table. The question is directed at nobody. “Nothing he says makes any sense. He doesn’t need to talk like that.” Bly’s hand appears from below to pat his vod’s shoulder. With a shaking breath, Gree asks it again, barely a child’s pitiful sob: “Why does he talk like that?”

A little more moaning later, they seem to come to the consensus that their Jetiise (and Chancellor) were just confounding and infuriating by nature, and that they were tragically and inescapably doomed to a life dealing with their bantha shit. “They’re hopeless,” Ponds sighs. “Ridiculous,” Bly agrees. “Children,” Rex laments. “Maniacs,” Cody says, with finality in his tone. A voice rumbles from across the table – the first time that night Wolffe had made it known that he was awake at all. “What did you say?” Rex yawns. Wolffe raises his head. “I said, speak for your kriffing selves.”

***

The table in the corner of the caf hall may as well have a reserved sign on it. It does, in a way: Wrecker carved a crude ‘99’ into one of the benches months ago. The regs tend to steer clear, although on days like these, Echo can’t really blame them. He hears it before he sees it, the first signs of an argument beginning to escalate. “Get out of my face before I blast yours off,” Crosshair snarls. Echo almost turns and walks away. But someone will need to be around to pick up the pieces if this all goes sideways. He steps through the remaining crowd to find his place at the end of the table. Opposite him, Crosshair is hunched over like a wolf with its hackles up. Tech is beside him, one finger poised delicately approximately an eighth of a centimeter from Crosshair’s shoulder.

“I will,” he says, “the moment you explain why you are so put out when I, clearly, am not actually touching you.” The plastic fork in Crosshair’s hand snaps. “How long?” Echo asks with a heavy sigh. Hunter, eyes occupied sharpening his knife, replies, “Going on fifteen minutes.” “Think there’s a point?” Hunter shrugs, slots his knife back into its sheath. His eyes flick from Tech to Crosshair, to Wrecker, who is watching the stalemate with rapt attention like it’s a nail-biting bolo-ball match. “Supposedly it’s a study on patience and stress levels,” he says. “But he hasn’t done it with anyone else. You know, Cross did trash his goggles last week.” Echo nods vaguely, sipping his tea and watching the rest of the exchange play out with distant disinterest. It would be imperceptible to the regs passing by, but Echo catches the slant in Tech’s tone, the tiny quirk in his eye. He’s enjoying this.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” “I don’t know what you mean. I’m still not touching you.” “Knock it the hell off, or you’ll wake up tomorrow to all your datapads melting in the kriffing furnace.” “I'm not touching you, though.” “This isn’t a joke. I—” “Not touching you.” “Hunter!” Crosshair hisses, shifting away yet again. He’s crammed onto the last three inches of the bench now, but Tech advances quickly to narrow the gap. Hunter cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, no. I’m not getting anywhere near this one.” “Some Sergeant you are.”

Echo tries to tune it out and enjoy his stew, as the threats grow increasingly crass and Wrecker eagerly demands the two get on with it and fight already. How they could lose themselves so shamelessly in such childish antics he does not know. He turns his gaze to the rest of the caf, the grid of tables packed with troopers he’d rather be sitting at. Though as he watches, he soon spots a table in the opposite corner of the hall; two shinies are locked in a fierce arm wrestling match, vode around them whooping and jeering. A few troopers at another table take turns lobbing berries in the air and trying to catch them in their mouths. More than one table has a perilous game of five finger fillet going. He looks back to Tech and Crosshair, inching towards all-out war, and lets his thoughts wander back to his old squad. Nights spent in this very same caf, breathless with laughter as Domino squad tried to one-up each other with outlandish dares. Lobbing wadded-up napkins into their commanders’ drinks. Sneaking behind the serving counters to steal extra desserts. Echo himself had definitely had his moments, dropping ice cubes down the back of Fives’ blacks when he wasn’t looking.

Across the table, Crosshair is reaching the end of his rope. “Are you all just going to sit there and watch?” he seethes. Echo feels a wry grin pulling at his lip. “Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says glibly. “He’s not even touching you.”

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kasienda · 3 months

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tell us about Adrino fake-dating? 👀👀👀

Adrino lends itself to this trope so well in my opinion in that they are super comfortable in each other's spaces, and Nino is generally on board to do anything and everything to 1) earn Adrien more freedom, and 2) piss off Gabriel.

My personal beef with fake-dating is that it's often written where two characters are already in love and already KNOW they're in love, but are too nervous to say anything yet. And I struggle with the whole thing being able to solved at any point with one conversation. (Though it doesn't stop me from reading or enjoying them. Just makes me want to tear my hair out when reading! Haha!)

BUT! If I'm writing my own, I wanted to explore them both not having feelings yet (or at least not being aware of said feelings), and that they figure it out through the process of pretending! And when it's time for it to end, they both realize they really really don't want it to.

So I started writing one. And I'm not sure if I will every finish or post it because it kinda feels like a generic romantic dramedy to me? I feel like I just am making the dolls kiss! Haha! Like, it's an aged up no-powers AU. I don't usually write things without identity shenanigans! And I don't have anything unique to add to this trope at the moment, BUT I've been having fun with it this week especially since I've been home sick. So maybe!!

...

Here! Take my whole opening scene:

“Tomorrow's photoshoot was rescheduled to Thursday morning, your father canceled dinner tonight, but promises he’ll be available tomorrow—“

Adrien snorted.

“And you’re to escort Lila Rossi to the gala this Saturday as her date.”

Adrien dropped his spoon. “That will not be happening. I will go to the gala, but Lila Rossi will not be my date.”

“Your father agreed to—“

“Any agreements my father made on my behalf are null and void if he didn’t get me to sign the contract.”

One of the benefits of reaching his majority. Now, if only he didn’t need his father to keep paying for university.

“Adrien, I know you don’t like Lila—“

That was an understatement if ever there was one.

“—but your father is not going to take your refusal lightly without any repercussions. Especially if you offer no explanation.”

He had offered an explanation. Lila Rossi was a snake and Adrien knew better than to let her anywhere close to him.

“It’s only one evening,” Nathalie continued.

One evening that would turn into many. But he could read between the lines. Nathalie needed a reason. His father wanted him to date someone now that he was old enough for it to garner media attention instead of generate a scandal.

“You don’t understand, Nathalie. I can’t bring Lila because I already have a date.”

It wasn’t true, but it could be.

Nathalie sighed. “And does this date have a name?”

Adrien contemplated dodging the question. He would have preferred to ask before he dragged any of his friends into the spotlight that might include his father’s ire, but Nathalie would argue on his behalf better if she didn’t think he was lying.

He wished he could ask Kagami, but she and Felix had gone public two months prior. He couldn’t throw Marinette under this bus because her career in fashion was only just beginning and getting tangled with his name would only make things more complicated for her. He was already providing her with all the connections and contacts she would let him, and he didn’t want to bring attention to that special attention by bringing her in as a date. Alya was attending university in the UK, and Luka was on tour with his father in the US.

Which only left him one option anyway. And in many ways it was the best option because Nino was the most willing to do whatever was needed to get Adrien out from under the thumb of his father.

Adrien glanced down into his hands, trying to sell nervousness that he absolutely did not feel. “I can tell you since you’ll know on Saturday anyway, but Nathalie, I’m hoping I can count on you for support.”

She actually looked up from her tablet. A good sign.

“It’s Nino,” he said softly.

“Nino Lahiffe?”

Adrien nodded.

“Doesn’t M. Lahiffe have a girlfriend?”

Adrien shook his head. “Not since Alya left to go abroad. They decided they didn’t want to do a long distance relationship.”

That much was true. The break up had been amicable.

“And how serious is this relationship?”

Fuck. It needed to be serious for Nathalie to pull out all the stops, but how long would Nino put up with the song and dance of it.

Adrien rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I hope we last, but we haven’t been dating that long. So far though, it’s been amazing! Nino and I have always just… clicked, you know?”

“I will do everything in my power to see that you get a fair chance.”

He swallowed at the sincerity in her voice.

“Thank you, Nathalie.”

She nodded and left.

He whipped out his phone and pulled up Nino’s contact. Nino wouldn’t likely be awake for another few hours so Adrien wasn’t going to call him, but Adrien could at least warn him.

…

Nino’s phone buzzed on the table beside his head. Nino groaned and rolled over - away from his phone. He really should have kept up his maman’s policy of charging his phone in the other room.

But an alarm clock was yet another thing Nino really couldn’t afford since he had moved out on his own. He was barely breaking even as it was.

The phone buzzed again and he sighed, fumbling blindly for both it and his glasses.

He blinked dumbly at the text on his screen, and then read it again.

Adrien:

I had to tell my father that we’ve been dating. That we’re going to the gala together this Saturday. I’m sorry. I know you wanted to surprise everyone the day of. Please forgive me. Call me when you’re awake.

The implications were concerning in more than one way.

Nino tapped out a response immediately.

Nino:

there’s nothing to forgive, love. It was bound to happen eventually. I still need help with my suit though if you’ve forgotten. Can we talk in person? I miss you.

Adrien:

I’ll be by in a few hours. Can’t wait to see you. ❤️

Adrien was laying it on thick. Definitely not a good sign.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #nino lahiffe #adrino #fake dating #fic preview #sneak peek #my own content #wip ask game #ask me anything

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carlyraejepsans · 2 years

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Idk I think that would imply flowey being a genuine friend to Papyrus, when presently he's just using him to fulfill his boredom. Also I think it's pretty intentional that flowey stays hands off on your neutral ending. If you don't kill him, he's not going to be speaking to or interacting with any of the other characters because he's counting on you reloading your save to get him the ending he wants.

however you might interpret the situation from flowey's side of the story, papyrus obviously considers him his friend.

not to forget the whole flowey fanclub business

not just in this timeline, in others as well. or multiple times in the same timeline depending on how you read it. while i agree that flowey interfered WAY less with the world of undertale after our arrival in the underground and that his attention was 100% focused on us as 1) the first new thing to happen to the story in ages and 2) our will is unbound from the code, ergo completely unpredictable 3) his seeing/recognizing us as chara, I don't see him cutting ties with papyrus entirely. after all, flowey's final plan is formatted only after a run where we kill almost no-one/no-one at all and he makes us reset to make it possible. all the other neutral runs he's just seeing where we go with our shenanigans! there's no reason he should cut all ties with Papyrus.

also, i wanna adress your comment that flowey's "just using him to fulfill his boredom": flowey is a meta aware character. and flowey, due to not having a SOUL, can't feel love anymore either. these two character traits are inexorably linked together, and should NEVER be considered on their own when analyzing his character, yet 90% of the time it's exactly what happens. it's canonically stated by flowey himself that life without feeling love (and without chara) was not a life he wanted to live, and when he found out he could manipulate time, not even doing everything to help everyone was enough to fill that void (which is how he began killing to begin with).

and remember, that flowey WAS the player in his runs!! flowey is built up as our mirror and foil! he was no longer just an NPC like the others so their interactions, their dialogues, all of it became as predictable as a series of equations. as predictable as they are to a real life UT fan who's played he game front to back.

it's not a coincidence that papyus, the character with the most lines and content in the entire game outside of the narrator themself, became his favorite and his friend. papyrus' depth and complexity as a character ingame makes him the closest thing to a "real" person as flowey can have.

I don't know, saying that his friendship with papyrus isn't genuine because he's "using him to fulfill his boredom" is incredibly reductive imo. it's like saying your pet snake doesn't care for you because some reptiles are so different from social mammals like us that they don't feel love how we do. sure, but that's because it's in their biology. their closest approximation to our love is "this human is a source of safety and food for me" so if that's the maximum amount of feeling they can have for me then it's pretty darn meaningful anyway. it's the same thing with flowey and fulfilling boredom. ykwim?

#answered asks #undertale #papyrus #flowey #entry log #metanalysis

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ant1quarian · 2 months

Text

My Bad Sans

Look at this goober. He doesn't even have a definite HP count

His name is Friday :]

(Cos. Cos Friday the 13th.)

He kinda watched his AU crumble (it was beginning to become a Dusttale AU, so he was starting to murder other monsters) and got half in the void before Nightmare was like: "y'know what? nah. c'mere."

And that's the story of how he joined the Bad Sanses.

He likes to hang out with Dust and Axe a lot, though he most definitely gets tugged up into Killer's shenanigans.

He also sometimes hangs out with Cross- usually in the ways of training.

He doesn't actually really use Nightmare's corridors? He prefers to wander/crawl through the vents like the critter he is.

His favourite weapons to use in combat (since his magic makes him laggy and glitchy when he uses it) is chainsaws and hacksaws

#undertale fandom #Bad Sanses #Murdertime trio #Undertale fandom #Undertale au #original undertale au #Friday

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eddies-house · 4 months

Note

Thinking about smoke signals Eddie and how maybe he’s finally getting a Christmas where that flicker of holiday magic blooms in him chest. He’s got something -someone- that makes him feel hopeful and worth it. Every night he looks forward to the next day with anticipation instead of dread - the way a kid counts down the days to Christmas morning. He knows he’s nearing something special and magical even if he can’t fully put that into words yet.

I’m thinking too much

i woke up to this with the biggest smile on my face cause my mindset has been "no one cares about smoke signals anymore cause you take too long to update" so just know that you have me kicking my feet and giggling over here rn

OKAY BUT THIS IS THE VIBE... Eddie's always "hated" the holidays or maybe the holidays just don't agree with him and never offer him mercy. Something always happens around that time of year without fail. Since moving to Knife's Edge he's only spent them with Wayne when he visits but it's usually very simple and they don't really decorate or anything, just hang out and have dinner and some beers every night until Wayne has to go back to Indiana. So it's not like anything bad has happened over the holidays for a few years but in typical Eddie fashion, he's always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

To be fair he's had enough trauma to last him lifetimes and one Christmas that really ruined it for him was when he was little and his dad came home drunk and Eddie thought he was Santa. Instead of Santa he's met with his dad stumbling around their tiny living room, knocking over their small tree with a majority of homemade ornamets he and his mom crafted together. At first it was an accident but as his dad got tangled up in some of the lights he started to get annoyed, slurring curses at the tree before finally shoving it over declaring it a "usless fuckin' thing". Shortly after, Eddie's mom had rushed out, tucking little Eddie behind her as she addressed her drunken husband. They started to argue, dad always starting it without fail. His mom tried so hard to keep the peace but when he started to raise his voice she had no choice but to try and appear bigger. She was never scared of him, or so she lead on. His dad would start knocking furniture over and rampage until he passed out on the kitchen floor after accidentally hitting his face against the counter, blood spilling from his nose.

There were several Christmases Eddie and his mom would go over to Wayne's because of his dad. Eddie would still protest, stating that he hates the trailer park, that he wanted to stay home and that maybe dad will be better this morning. That was never the case but little Eddie didn't really know any better, his dad always charming his way out of situations, always convincing Eddie that he was some kind of hero at the end of the day, even after being such a deadbeat. It got worse as he got older, his mom passed when he was six and from there Christmas never felt quite the same. Wayne would insist that Eddie come over and spend the holiday with him, he knew his dad would either not come home at all or would turn up too late, Eddie sulking in that damn house all alone while he waited for his dad to show up. Needless to say, it took a while for Eddie to realize just how fucked up it was that his dad would have him wrapped around his finger for his own convenience. Christmas had never been a happy time. He was always thankful for all that his mom and Wayne would do for him, to keep him distracted from his dad's shenanigans. But it never erased that void in his heart and it never kept him from chasing after something he could never have.

His first holiday season around reader...completely shifts everything and it scares the shit out of him at first. He starts feeling that so called "joy" that everyone swears they feel around this time of year. He feels like the fucking grinch when his heart grows three sizes every time she's around. He doesn't mind the little decorations she scatters around the bar, the image of snowflakes and Christmas ornaments only start reminding him of her and not his past. Let's just say that his inner child starts to heal...

I HAVE SOME CHRISTMASY STUFF PLANNED FOR THEM AND I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE IT WHEN IM ABLE TO. THERE WILL BE A LIL ANGST BUT I PROMISE IT'S NOTHING SCARY

#ily thank you for putting this in my inbox #i swear things like this motivate me to write #smoke signals #eddie munson x reader

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mylifeisactuallyamess · 2 years

Text

A/N: So the Sandman has me in a chokehold. And I make no apologies. I have so many WIP glaring at me and I’m like “but this new blorbo…”. Hate me if you will but I follow the dopamine. If you would like to be tagged in any further Morpheus shenanigans please send me an ask or reply to this 🥰

Warnings: Do not tag Neil Gaiman in any of my work or he will block me and I do enjoy his page. This fic is an 18+ sloooow burn. I am taking huge artistic license with the world because I am going by the TV series alone. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Tags will be updated per chapter but if you know how the series goes then you know where the tags are heading. This shit is unbeta’d. Reader is femme and I will always be respectful of characters pronouns throughout the fic. If I do slip up please feel free to message me and it shall be corrected.

Pairing: Morpheus x F!Reader/OC insert

Chapter 1: The Waking Realm

Summary: Brought to life by the power of the Dreaming, you were tasked with a single purpose. Find Lord Morpheus. However, once your purpose is completed will he find it in his heart to keep you around or was your purpose the only reason you were brought into being. Multichapter fuckery.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tagging: @a-bang-for-your-bucky

Prelude: Creation

To be created, you must first exist.

It was unfathomable. A darkness so encompassing you felt it possess every crack and crevice or your soul. You tried to take a deep breath, to ease the oppressive feel of the silence clawing at your mind, but you had no lungs. No body, nothing to see, touch and taste with.

You should feel panicked but emotions didn’t exist in such a void. It was empty, enduring, suffocating.

Timeless.

A nothing so deep the only thing you could perceive was it had no beginning, no middle and no end…

“Wake up.” The voice was soft, almost recognisable. “You need to wake up.” Your eyes opened. A soft breeze rippled across your back, the rich rustle of feathers filled your ears. Light struck the back of your eyes making you inhale sharply from the sting. Your fingers curled for the first time, sinking into the black sand with which you were upon. Watching with fascination as it devoured your hand, only to willingly release you, dripping down like fine black rain.

“We have a need of you.” A figure blocked out the weak light, curled pointy ears and round glasses drew into focus as you pushed yourself up. Drawing your knees under you, splaying your hands out to get a good look at them. Brushing the black sand delicately off your skin, marvelling in the way your fingertips felt the fabric of your dress. It hugged your body, flowing out from all sides. The silver was metallic, a splash of brightness against all the dark. Flexing your shoulders you sighed, tipping your head back and glimpsing the deep, inky wings that spread either side of you.

The light was muted, almost grey as it reflected on the shine of the feathers. Your hands quivered, stretching to feel them with the tip of your middle finger. Watching them jostle, feeling the pull on your muscles. They were your wings.

“I am Lucienne.”

“I don’t have a name.” Your hand reached up and your eyes widened. The words came from you, vibrating in your throat, the thin skin of your neck warm to touch. Lucienne smiled slightly, her hand suspended in the space between you.

“Come. I’ll tell you what you need to do.” Her grip was sturdy. A support you needed as you stood on your feet for the first time, your wings flaring to stop you from falling. Looking up you could see you were in some sort of hole. A crater, where sand had exploded outwards in all directions.

“Wh-what happened?” Your tongue tied over the familiar but strange words.

“You, my dear.” One hand held tightly onto Lucienne and the other lifted the tendrils of your dress. Your toes dug into the sand as you both made your way up and out of the crater. Immediately before you were a pair of colossal gates. Intricately carved with all sorts of depictions; it would have taken months to see them all and your wings spread slightly as though you were going to fly up to the top. They were so tall your spine curved as you tilted your head up to get a good look at them.

“What is this place?” Your voice was still so new, the words scratching slightly on their way out.

“The gates of horn and ivory. The King of Dreams carved them himself.” The sound of them opening rendered the air. Creaks and moans of hinges not used in an age until they came to an abrupt stop and you stepped through the gap with Lucienne at your side.

The landscape seemed to stretch from your toes out into the distance as far as the eye could see. Mountains stood tall and squat, but nothing grabbed your gaze as much as the decaying palace before you. You could tell it had once been a castle of great stature. A creation that would have stolen your breath with its beauty and intricacy, now lay in crumbled ruins.

“It’s not much, anymore,” Lucienne told you dryly. A lake, grey and lifeless covered the ground to the right, what was once a bridge now broken and shattered, clouds heavy and angry roiled in the sky but your companion just sighed and began to walk towards it all. The palace was falling down, even now as you approached parts broke away to tumble to the ground. Grass and weeds covered the debris and a sense of immense sadness gathered in your chest.

“It shouldn’t be like this,” you whispered. Wrongness twisted in your swirling depths as you looked around. “Why is it dying?”

“In his absence I can only do so much to keep the realm together.”

“Whose absence?”

“You are in the Dreaming,” Lucienne said with undisguised pride. Frowning you crouched beside a chunk of the palace, putting your hand on the worn stone as you tried to grasp streams of information that seemed just out of reach.

“Where is the King of Dreams?” You asked, not fully understanding the question yourself.

“Ah. I see He has gifted you with some knowledge then. Let me see if I can fill in the gaps.” She strode off leaving you no choice but to pick your way after her down the broken path.

Debris was everywhere. Littering the floor of what was once a huge chamber, covered in dust and dead leaves. A tall staircase wound up to a platform but steps were missing. What was once a grand throne still stands proud in front of the empty windows but even that was damaged seemingly beyond repair. Cracks filtered through the whole place, some deep fissures that you had to almost jump over. Your gaze was captivated by the shards of coloured glass strewn beneath your feet. Colours that were once whole and vibrant were now jaded and shattered. Your wings flared as you bent down to pick up a piece of green glass, marvelling at how it tried to capture the essence of light that was strong enough to filter into the chamber.

“I did try to keep it tidy. But I gave up quite a few years ago. It’s like the palace wants to be in this state and no matter what I do, it has no effect.” Breathing in, your chest expanded rapidly. The air in the Realm was heavy, settling inside you as an extra burden. You wanted to fix this, to stop this place from feeling so erroneous. Something was missing, the very fabric of this Realm was tearing apart, drifting in the unseen winds of the Endless.

“Why did he leave?” Your voice carried more than you expected in the large space.

“He left to retrieve a rogue nightmare but then, he didn’t come back.” You never thought weariness could affect a being in such a magical place, but Lucienne’s eyes were coloured with it. “Something has happened to him and that is why you are here.”

“What can I do?”

“You can find him. Help him. I haven’t heard from Jessamy in years and I can’t…leave the Realm unattended.” She peered at you over the top of her glasses. “But you can.”

“What could possibly be keeping the Lord of all this in the waking realm?”

“I have no idea,” she answered mournfully. “But first we must turn you into a raven. Mortals will not take kindly to you just walking in their realm with these.” Lucienne’s gaze drifted purposely to your wings making you drag them into yourself, the soft rustle echoing against the destroyed stone. “And I’m fairly sure Lord Morpheus won’t accept help from you in this form.”

“Tell me what I must do.” She approached, held within her hand was a necklace. At first glance it didn’t look like much, a simple silver chain dangled from her fingers but what hung on it was an amulet depicting a raven's head. As black as the night sky but it shimmered with an otherworldliness that had you reaching out for a closer look.

“Usually a raven is not chosen this way. They enter the Dreaming in the form but you are something quite different.” Your brow furrowed a little, eyes searching hers for answers but all Lucienne did was subtly cock an eyebrow at your unspoken question.

“What am I?”

“I did what Lord Morpheus cannot. I asked for help and I was gifted, you. True, you’re not what I expected…” she explained, slowly walking round you to get a good look at you. “And I think you’re more than what I bargained for but we don’t question the Creator here. You’re certainly not like the others.”

“Others?”

“Never mind. Now. This amulet will help you find him, it is part of the Dreaming and it will seek him out so trust it. You must bring him home.”

“Ok,” you breathed out. The raven's head settled just below your clavicle, an unusual weight against your skin making you reach for it automatically.

Nothing happened. Your feet were still firmly planted on the broken floor of the palace and you threw a worried look at Lucienne.

“You need to go to the waking realm. It will take you, you just have to let go.” Closing your eyes you blocked out everything around you. A pinprick of light glowed in your mind's eye so you headed towards it, thoughts filled of the waking realm and a being named Morpheus…

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

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