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whispering-ways · 5 months

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡ i like you (too much) - part 2 ♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

♡ summary: you just joined a new high school and you're hoping to make a bunch of new friends. unfortunately, you're paired up with Katsuki and he seems to despise you. nevertheless, you're determined to make it work. little do you know that you're first interaction would lead to a wonderful friendship and possibly even more.

♡ pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

♡ tags: no warnings, just fluff :) but the next couple of parts may or may not have some smut ;)

♡ notes: hi besties! here's part 2 to the first chapter. i should have more time to work on this story and a bunch of other fics since I've officially graduated! i hope you guys like this chapter and let me know if yall want more :) the pink text is the readers texts and the orange is Katsuki.

You heard the alarm on your phone ring, waking you up for the morning. Groggily, you reached over to your nightstand to turn it off. You rub your eyes, tired from having to wake up so early the last couple of days. The bus at your new high school came around 6:45, which meant that you had to wake up at at least 5:35 am to get ready. A part of you liked getting up so early; it made you feel on top of things, a true it girl. But the rest of you ached to just swaddle yourself in your plush blankets and sink right back into bed. You dragged yourself out of bed and headed to the bathroom to freshen yourself up a bit.

After you splash your face with some water you stare into the mirror, taking notice of your dark circles. “Damn I might need to start using an eye cream or something soon, waking up so early is not doing justice to my skin,” you said out loud. As soon as you said it though, you knew that was a lie. You knew in your heart that the only reason why you were so tired every morning is because you spent every night texting Katsuki.

By now you figured that he was definitely a night owl but unfortunately, you weren’t. You had always been the type of girl to sleep early, prioritizing your 8 hours of sleep. But if there was one person who could make you disregard your routine, it’d be Katsuki. Over the last couple of days, you both had gotten closer. You’d been talking at school and texting each other seemingly non-stop and you’d say a decent friendship had formed between you two. Something about his texts made your stomach fill with butterflies and you couldn’t help getting excited every time you saw a notification from him pop up on your phone.

You spent nights staying awake texting Katsuki till 1, 2 3 in the morning. Even when your eyelids felt like they could no longer remain open, you’d do your best to stay awake to not miss a single text. Was it a bit much? Yes. Should you be putting a guy before your beauty sleep? Probably not. Did you still do it anyway? Absolutely. It’s not like you didn’t text him in the day, but after school, he barely texted you besides the occasional response after a couple of hours. He just seemed to come alive in the night. That’s when you’d get your near-instantaneous responses and true conversations. So if talking to him meant staying up at night, you were willing to do it.

You’d done a good job so far of staying awake in class; after all, you didn’t want to miss out on notes. But after a couple of days, your exhaustion had just gotten to you.. You were tired, the lecture seemed to go on an on forever, the teacher’s monotonous voice, it was the typical recipe for drifting off. With your head in your hands, you felt your eyes start to blink slowly as they got heavier by the moment. Before you knew it, you felt your eyelids close. You didn’t know how long you were asleep. But your teacher’s voice immediately brought you back to reality.

“(Y/N), could you tell me what the answer is to Question 3?” the teacher said, her voice startling you awake. Your face burned with embarrassment as you flipped through your notes to find some way to solve the question. As you couldn’t find any way out of the situation, your shame grew and grew. All of a sudden you felt a sharp nudge to your arm coming from beside you. You turn to see Kastuki clearing his throat, and pushing his worksheet towards you. At first, you’re confused but then the pieces clicked in your head once you saw him pointing to the same question the teacher was asking you about.

“(Y/N)? Answer the question please, we don’t have all day.” your teacher said, her tone getting more frustrated.

“Uhhhh...2?” you answer hesitantly, glancing quickly towards Katsuki’s paper to make sure you said the right number.

“Oh, yes, that’s correct. Next time, still pay attention to the lecture,” the teacher said, moving on with her presentation.

“Thank you so much, you saved my ass just there.” you whisper to Katsuki. “I would’ve gotten laughed at for sure if I got that wrong.”

“You don’t need to thank me, that’s what friends are for, stupid,” he replied with a smile. Your heart skipped a beat. You’d never really seen his smile, it was just downright adorable; surprising for someone who looked so intimidating. You were so wrapped up in the moment, you didn’t catch yourself staring. “What, something on my face or some shit?”

“Uhh...no, nothing at all, you’re all peaches and cream.”

He chuckled in response and turned around, leaving you to your thoughts.

“Peaches and cream?? Who even says something like that anymore?? Stupid, stupid me and stupid, stupid thing to say and now he probably thinks I’m weird and strange and ー” your thoughts were cut off by the sound of the bell releasing everyone to go to lunch. You started packing up your laptop and your notes, glad that there were no more chances to get embarrassed by the teacher again, at least for the next hour.

You feel yet another nudge, and you turn towards Katsuki. “Hey do you wanna share lunch with me? I don’t know if you’ve got a lunch packed already but like I accidentally packed two sandwiches and I’m on a cut and I only wanna eat one sandwich, and I don’t wanna waste any damn food. So like if you want you can have the other one or something,’ he says.

“Yes! I mean, yes that would be nice thank you so much, what kind of sandwich?” you reply trying to not sound too happy at the offer.

“Well I don’t really know what it's fucking called, but there’s some grilled chicken, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles and I think some spicy mayo in it. That sound good to you?”

Your mouth watered just thinking about it. “Yeah dude, that sounds great, thanks again! I’m just gonna go to the bathroom real quick, and then do you wanna meet up at the cafeteria?”

“Nah, I'll just wait for you. Plus I don’t want you getting lost or anything trying to find me.” Katsuki replied walking towards the bathroom. You thank him internally; you had no clue where the bathroom was anyways. After a couple moments, you both get to the bathroom. As you head inside, Katsuki leans on the wall of lockers nearby, plopping his backpack down on the floor.

He double checks to see whether you’ve truly gone inside and puts his face in his hands. He was hoping you didn’t notice how red he was on the way to the bathroom. “I didn’t think it’d actually work, holy shit,” Katsuki thought to himself over and over again. If truth be told, Katsuki didn’t make any extra sandwiches.

That morning Katsuki got up early to make lunch for school, not because he was a morning person, but because of a small detail you mentioned last night. You both were having your usual nightly talk when the topic got to food.

“Yeah I like to cook a lot honestly! I haven’t really made anything recently, but hopefully I can get more into it soon.”

It surprised Katsuki honestly, he never took you as someone who’d like to cook.

“Oh word, that’s cool, any reason why you like it tho?”

“Yeah, I mean like I guess its just my love language? I love to cook and just make people happy through food :) I usually cook for my family a lot.”

“That’s honestly pretty fucking kind of you. Who cooks for you?

“Ah, I mean its just me cooking at home, so no one really lol.”

“Damn, its gotta be tiring cooking all the time tho”

“Yeah sometimes, but yk like I said its my love language so I don’t mind. But thats why I just get food from the cafeteria, its just tiring most times to cook for everyone and do lunch lol”

Katsuki read your text and laid his head back on his pillow, arm across his face as he stared up at the ceiling. His stomach filled with excitement. Just like that, an idea brewed in his head. He wasn’t a good cook by any means whatsoever. Besides making a mean microwaveable ramen, he didn’t know how to make much but he was gonna do his best to make lunch for the both of you tomorrow morning. You fell asleep soon after that, but his idea kept running in his mind for the rest of the night.

He spent the rest of the night scrolling through TikToks, trying to figure out some sort of recipe that was easy but something you’d like. And that’s when he had his eureka moment. There was grilled chicken in his fridge and he was sure there had to be some topping in there too; he could make grilled chicken sandwiches. All he could hope for at that point was whether it’d be good or not.

The next morning he woke up determined to make you the best fucking sandwich you’d ever had. 30 minutes later and he accomplished his goal. As he drove to school, he hoped you’d like it when he realized he forgot a vital part of his plan. “How the fuck am I gonna tell her about lunch?”

He wracked his brain for any more ideas. Katsuki didn’t want to come across too strong, but you just deserved something nice. Finally, he settled on telling you that he just had an extra sandwich. After all, honesty was the best policy and he technically did have an extra. He honestly thought you’d refuse or have some sort of lunch with you already. But when you said yes, he was absolutely elated. He tried his best to cover his enthusiasm, but now it was written all over Katsuki’s face. The grin hadn’t left his face since you both started walking to the bathroom.

The soft tug to his jacket sleeve brought him out of his thoughts. “Hey, thanks for waiting! Do you wanna maybe go to the library instead to eat? The cafeteria is always so fucking noisy and I’ll barely be able to hear you talk,” you ask.

“She wants to hear me talk; she wants to hear me talk,” Katsuki thought gleefully. “Yeah sure, I don’t mind,” he replied, trying to play cool.

After walking to the library, you both find a quiet spot in the back. You and Katsuki sit down, side by side, before he pulled out two small plastic bags from his backpack. He passed you a sandwich and waited anxiously for your reaction.

You look at him quizzically. “Why the fuck is he just staring at me and not eating at all?” you thought before taking a bite. Your eyes widened and you looked up at Katsuki.

“What? What? Is it bad or something? You don’t gotta fucking eat it if its that bad,” he says.

“No, Katsuki, its perfect! It's really really good!” you reply, diving back in for another bite. You skipped breakfast and your stomach had been grumbling all throughout class and this was just the perfect fix.

“I’m glad you like it. I made it myself,” Katsuki said with pride, a smile stretched across his face yet again. How could he not smile when you looked so precious?

“Are you for real? That is so sweet of you! Kastuki, I’m for real touched you thought of little old me, you sat leaning over to wrap him in a hug.

Katsuki’s whole face turns red, hypersensitive to your touch. If he knew making you a sandwich would get you close to him, he would've made you lunch way sooner.

You break away and continue eating your sandwich as Katsuki starts to eat his. You’re so engrossed in your meal that you don’t notice Katsuki staring at you, still red and stomach filled with butterflies.

When you got home, you immediately went to your room, thoughts of lunch on your mind that had nothing to do with being hungry and everything to do with a certain blonde. “He made me lunch. Like from scratch. Like who does that?? As if he’s already not cute enough, now I’ve got him cooking for me,” you thought.

That’s when a thought quickly crossed your head. “Does he maybe like me?” It only took you a few moments with that idea to make you absolutely flushed. “There’s like no way, right? I’m me and he’s so cool, and plus I’m just being delulu because there’s literally no way. Exactly, there’s no way he likes me right?” you say to yourself.

You tried your best to focus on your homework for the rest of the night, trying to get thoughts of Katsuki out of your head. But every so often thoughts of that darling smile or his piercing eyes or how he smelt like burnt caramel when you hugged him kept creeping into your mind. It didn’t help that he was texting you too. With every single thought and text, the feeling in your stomach just got stronger and stronger. It was a weird mix of butterflies, anxiety, and giddiness and God you loved it so much. You gave up on your homework and laid on your bed, starting to drift into your usual daydream.

You closed your eyes, curling up into your blankets. You imagined Katsuki’s arm coming from behind you, wrapping around your stomach and pulling you close to his bare chest. His arm slide up your arm, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. Just as he kissed the top of your head, you heard a voice call out, bringing you back to reality abruptly.

“(Y/N)! Come down for dinner honey!” your mom yelled. You let out a sigh; you were so close to the exciting part of the dream too.

"Coming, Mama!" you cheerfully replied as you quickly slipped on some cozy slippers for comfort. As you finished getting ready, your thoughts wandered, wishing your daydreams were real life. With a sigh, you brushed off those feelings, "I'm just being silly. I know he'll never see me in that light."

Meanwhile, on the other side of your street, Katsuki was having some day dreams of his own. He still hadn’t been able to get you off his mind. It was like whole world around him gained color the second you walked into his mind. All he could think about after lunch was how it felt to have you so close to him. His thoughts were filled what how it felt to have your arms around him. You were so much warmer than he imagined. And thinking about how your chest slightly pressed into his bicep sent him into overdrive.

With all his heart, he wished he could’ve hugged you back, even if it was just for a second. He engraved every detail of your embrace in his memory, filing them away in his memory. Katsuki hoped that one day he’d be able to sweep you into his arms and hold you close. But until then, thoughts and daydreams would have to do.

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oathkeeperoxas · 3 months

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TOP GUN / Icemav fic recs part 8

There have been a LOT of good icemav fics posted this year - please check out some of the ones below which I've particularly enjoyed!

Rec list 1 here

Rec list 2 here

Rec list 3 here

Rec list 4 here

Rec list 5 here

Rec list 6 here

Rec list 7 here

Easy By Your Side by @wordsonamission

Written for Top Gun Ace Week! Day One - Micro labels (demisexuality) - "Promise me you'll wait for me" Maverick invites Iceman to spend their leave together in a cottage on the coast. Ice accepts, but isn't sure how to handle the fact that he's starting to develop romantic feelings about Maverick. He's never seen any indication that Maverick is interested in him beyond friendship. As they bond over seafood and grocery shopping, Ice finds his feelings growing.

Ice telling Mav about his boundaries, and Mav letting Ice come to him on his own terms is so very sweet and good. I love how the author portrays the care and understanding they have for each other!!

Apoptosis by @flyingfightingfishy

When aviators cause problems, they're designated apop, assigned missions designed to be deadly. Sometimes it's a strike mission, sometimes they're protecting other assets that the navy wants to be sure come home. Mav has been designated apop almost since the beginning. Ice is flying a mission that the navy deems worthy of protection.

Oh my GOD the worldbuilding and character dynamics in this slap so hard, I love the set up and how both Ice and Mav are written. The author places them in this sidestepped world so perfectly it feels like the fic is far longer than it really is. Such a treat!

give me mercy no more by @eighteaseven

They’re both twice as old now as they were when they started this, as both of their joints can certainly attest. But these aches make Ice’s willingness to kneel for him all the more humbling.

🫠 well what can I even say. The author GETS Ice, and writes Ice and Mav being so very in love with each other and giving each other what they need!!! The fact that they're older and experienced and still want each other and want to please each other makes the rest of this fic even better, which really is saying something considering how good it already is.

the further on the edge, the hotter the intensity by StoriesofmyLife

Maverick wonders if it's always going to be like this--this burning want under his skin, the total awareness his body seems to have of Ice. The surge of want that always seems to grip him, even at the most inappropriate of times. He wonders if he's ever going to be able to be around Ice and function like a human being. Thankfully, Ice seems to have the same problem as Maverick. Or--Five times Maverick and Ice have sex in places they totally weren't planning to.

I really enjoy the character dynamics in this, not only between Ice and Mav but the other people who they're interacting with as well. The last few chapters are especially good!

the well traveled road to you by @icemav86

“You said we’re dating?” Maverick asks, eventually, incredulous, with no indication of whether or not he’s willing to help Ice. After Ice’s divorce, he tells a harmless white lie to get his kids off his back. Turns out it’s not that simple.

Saturn has such as way of putting Ice and Mav in situations that I utterly love - the writing is very good, and nails their characterisations perfectly!

magic in your fingertips (love is a wild thing) by @whatiwouldnotgive

Maverick’s never been good at saying. At the talking about things. He always prefers action to words. Carole laughed about it when he offered to fix up her junker of a pick up truck with fondness in her eyes, and Goose never mentions it at all. Just smiles at him whenever Mav brings home his favorite dinner, or lets Mav pick out the movie they watch for the night. Ice is somehow worse.

I love the banter here, between Ice and Mav but also when Goose and Slider make their appearances. The summer romance vibes here are immaculate honestly, the get together is just soooo perfect. Melting the iceman's heart indeed!!

Don’t Read the Last Page (But I Stay) by @rabbit-factory

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander Mitchell,” Ice drawled, disdain rich in his voice. “The day you become in charge of my promotions I’ll do whatever idiotic tasks you’d like me to do with a smile. But until then.” “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Maverick leered, and actually managed to startle a laugh out of Ice. It warmed him, with sense of nearly possessive joy, that he was the one who got to tease this man, pull the laughter out of him when he was most frustrated. That was his to do, his responsibility, and no one else’s. *** A look at Ice and Maverick’s relationship, over ten holidays.

So sweet and good!! I love the reunion here, and how Ice and Mav play off each other over the years as their relationship develops and grows <3

face on a lover with a fire in his heart by @enthyrea

Stepping up on his toes, Maverick throws the scarf around the back of Ice’s neck, wrapping it snugly around and making sure the ends are even on both sides of Ice’s chest. Mav’s hands briefly brush over Ice’s jawline, and they’re so warm it makes him dizzy. To make matters worse, Maverick then shucks off his bomber jacket, throwing it over Ice’s shoulders and bringing it close to his chest. The inside of the jacket is toasty, and it smells like Mav. “Are you sure?” Is all Ice can say. Mav smiles up at him, the snow decorating his dark hair like glitter. “Of course. It looks good on you anyways.” He says, with an indecipherable wink. AKA, Ice and Mav get caught in a blizzard on their way to Slider's for Christmas. Ice tries to deal with his feelings for Mav while trying not to freeze to death.

So cute and good and warm - the perfect winter tale. And there's even art!!

feel my body rock (every time you call my name) by @iceman-maverick

Maverick’s got that look on his face now. The one that sets off every alarm in Ice’s mind. But there’s no tower to buzz here, it’s just Ice and Maverick and everything between them. “It does feel better.” Mav smirks at him, “You know, the omega way,” “How could you possibly know that?” Ice snaps. He feels a familiar pressure building between his thighs and absolutely the fuck not. Ice abruptly turns to walk the other way back towards the mess. Fuck it, he’ll take the scenic route before he lets Maverick scent him like this. “Rave reviews,” Maverick laughs - not unkindly though, it’s always warmth coming from Maverick these days - as Ice tries to escape with what little dignity he has left. Fucking alphas.

Biting and chewing this one!! Ice self exploration with omega Ice! Worldbuilding and omegaverse in the Navy! Mav standing up for Ice, but also Ice standing up for himself!! Plus the flirting at the end, hmm so good

Any Change in Time by @icezansky

After the Enterprise, they came home and took up their posts at Top Gun, this time as instructors, and didn’t speak of it again. They spent their days in the classroom or in the air, and their evenings side by side at the O Club or on one another’s couch. And then Viper introduced Tom to his daughter, Sarah, and she was kind and lovely with a spitfire attitude that reminded him of someone else. She took up his evenings, then – double dates with other officers and their girlfriends, and quiet nights in where she cooked him dinner and they talked for hours. He proposed to her after two months of dating, and she said yes. Now, six months later, she’s going to meet him at the end of the aisle.

The pining in this is so rich and layered, I love the way that Ice and Mav have to learn to circle around each other and decide what they really want in life before they reach out and take it.

Delicates by @topgunreacts

In which Maverick sneaks into Ice's room for some late-night ass, and discovers he doesn't mind getting overheard.

Such a set up!! Ice and Mav in this are just so very into each other, and very much uncaring of who knows it. I love that for them honestly. Yeah boys, get that ass!!

#icemav #iceman #maverick #fic rec #rec list #top gun

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hellfirenacht · 8 months

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Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

5k words

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn’t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

Next Chapter

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#Nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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rip-quizilla · 10 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Divider was created by the lovely and talented @hellfire--cult❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench.

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.”

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities.

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?”

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.”

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along.

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?”

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected.

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands.

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.”

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck.

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness.

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more.

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs.

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face.

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.”

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?”

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans.

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid.

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man.

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip.

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on.

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk.

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting.

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip.

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message.

I’m serious.

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color.

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap.

I’m fine with it if you are.

Putting bats on my forearm.

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing.

I’m more than fine with it.

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you.

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear.

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other.

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them.

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?”

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom.

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission.

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this.

This looked like fear.

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide.

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously.

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce.

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?”

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor.

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand.

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand.

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle.

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.”

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off.

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.”

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you.

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal.

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved.

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low.

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?”

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.”

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway.

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing.

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall.

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar.

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism.

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it.

On Halloween, he could just be.

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer.

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license.

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie.

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set.

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout.

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable.

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you.

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him.

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life.

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy.

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second.

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you.

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?”

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.”

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart.

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?”

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction.

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it.

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking.

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap.

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.”

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles.

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine.

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.”

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?”

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?”

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room.

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be.

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing.

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled.

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out.

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.”

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.”

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.”

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis.

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped.

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like.

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now.

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel.

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message.

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins?

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on.

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze.

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie.

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire.

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again.

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine.

“Are you?” You heard him ask.

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?”

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz.

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line.

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous.

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…”

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?”

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.”

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke.

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it.

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way.

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all.

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat.

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours.

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day.

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear.

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question.

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.”

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled.

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles.

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too.

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did?

Ah, fuck it.

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.”

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.”

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?”

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before.

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out.

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere.

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped.

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you.

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked.

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him.

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Part 6

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #ithy #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

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itsmarsss · 2 months

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Scandalous [Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas] (Helluva Boss) pt. 9 - If I Had a Nickel

pt 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8

Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.

If Blitzø had a nickel for every ex of one his friends’ he’d fucked he’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice, right?

Word count: 6,117

Warnings: since it’s something concubi need to survive, having sex with humans for that need is not considered cheating between them in of itself. doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel shitty. you’ll get this when you get to it. this takes place during spring broken but I’ve already said do not take the shows timeline as entirely the same as my own lol. Spring broken will have happened after Exes and Ohhs but Exes and Ohhs will have happened before Ozzie’s in this fic. Kind of sexual/physical assault of Moxxie (same that happens in the episode, nothing graphic or anything), pretty tense chapter, Verosika is very much a bitch here but don’t worry abt it.

If you were to say so yourself, things have been pretty okay the past few weeks, which is a great freaking accomplishment, especially with Spring Break coming up.

Apart from being emotionally hard, considering the... well, the memories tied to it, Spring Break just makes you anxious, more than ever now that you actually had access to the human world during it with Stolas’ Grimoire.

… Which is the exact concern Ozzie expressed during the last sleepover you had at his place the previous week.

But you got this under control.

Of course, you'd still be careful, planning on staying in the office more often until you could find yourself less nervous about going up, and you made sure to tell him that.

Besides, there's plenty things more fun and more important for you to think of. You've been hanging out with Blitzø a lot these days, and you were actually having fun with the ‘trade’ with Stolas that you were now an official part of. You and Milllie managed to keep the weekly sleepover nights pretty consistent, Loona hasn't been in such a terrible mood lately and, therefore, Moxxie has been significantly calmer, too. You'd even managed to be sooo brave and keep yourself calm enough to make small talk with Fizz when Ozzie left the two of you alone for a few minutes in one your nights over at their place. Hey, maybe next week you can ask him a question, even!

Not much, admittedly, but progress nonetheless. Befriending your best friend's boyfriend is a little nerve-wrecking, especially when he’s so wary of the fact that you’re the only demon in hell with the power to confirm the rumors about them are real and have shit hit the fan for them.

You even- wait.

You recognize the song the very second it starts playing, taking you out of your thoughts and glancing at Blitzø as he turns the volume all the way up.

“You were the spicy little demon with the bleach blonde hair-“ you sing along with the car radio, holding an imaginary microphone to yourself before holding it to Blitzø.

“F-fiending for some- uhh- yeah, when I caught your stare!” Blitzø tries to sing along into it as he drives and you laugh at his attempt to sing the lyrics, already knowing he'd get most of them somewhat wrong, before leaning towards him so you can both sing into the imaginary mic together.

“Thought it might be love- but what?”

“But you went too far! Fucked all my friends and-“ Blitzø’s eyes widen so much they might as well fall off their sockets. “Holy shit-“ He steers the wheel so violently everyone thrashes around in the car, everyone in the backseat falling over each other and pushes the brakes forcefully, making the car come to a stop abruptly and he immediately proceeds to shove his head through the open window to yell at whoever it was that, as you could see now, had parked in his designated parking space. “Oh, you suck for life, do ya?”

He even goes through the trouble of fumbling to grab a megaphone he apparently kept in the glove compartment for... situations like this? Well, something like that. He continues yelling out insults until the sight of who comes out of the car makes him stop speaking completely.

It’s a hard task making Blitzø shut his mouth, you gotta give her that.

“Oh, shit. Verosika.” You state out loud, but it's more to yourself than anything. What's weird is that Blitzø says the exact same thing, the exact same time.

"Oh, shit. Verosika?” He asks, and you figure it's more to himself than anything as well. He turns to face you for a moment, blinking a few times before speaking. “You know her?”

“Uhhh…. “ So much for things being good lately. You want to stall as much as you can, you want to vanish from where you were, you want the floor to swallow you whole never to be seen again. The most you can do about all of that is trying to sink down on your seat so she doesn't see you, but it’s no use, really. She pops her bubblegum and grins at you. She already has.

“Blitzo.”

“I should have known you’d be here. I could smell fish from miles, which is odd, because I believe the nearest ocean is-” he pushes himself so far out the window he ends up falling face-first to the floor, but gets up as quick as he can just so he can finish his insult. “Three rings down!”

“And I should’ve known you’d be here when I heard the amber alerts.”

“Oh, yeah? I’m surprised they let your fat ass out of rehab.” She was in rehab? Again? “I can see you're still a drunken whore, clutching onto that beelzejuice bottle like its the last cock in hell!”

“They let me out because I’m still famous. And rehab is for sad, loser washups. So… your sister says hi. You wanna come out now, y/n? I'm sure you're familiar with the subject."

You sigh, deciding it’s better to confront her right now than to let her say too much, and so you get out of the car, walking towards where her and Blitzø stood. “Hi.”

“Hi? That’s all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“For starters, what the fuck is going on, maybe?”

“What do you mean?”

“Getting with my fucking ex? Now that’s low even for you.”

“Your ex? Who's your ex?”

“Oh so you didn't know I dated him, that’s totally not why you’re here with him right now. Right.”

“You dated her?”

“Yeah, we dated for a while,” Blitzø shrugs. Oh, no.

“Yeah, until he ran off leaving me to pay for the hotel room, stole my car and-” Blitzø joins in, finishing word for word what she had to say, like he'd heard the speech a million times before. You don't doubt he has. “-run three rings to wrath and max my credit cards on shitty horse-riding lessons!”

“Goddamit, whore, you will not let that go!”

“You… did that?”

“What, you gonna crucify me for it? How the fuck do you even know each other? Were you friends or something?"

“I- uh-”

“We dated too. Unfortunately.” Verosika spits out.

Blitzø turns to face you. “Wait what? You dated my ex?”

“Well I definitely dated her first. That tattoo was not there,” you point at the tattooed heart with Blitzø’s name crossed out inside of it, and Verosika instantly covers it with her coat.

“That’s true. Until… well, I’ll let the slut tell you what she did,” she tells Blitzø before smiling at you. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm doing a bit of freelance for one of the infinitely more successful companies in the building, and they wanted to have me come in this week to lead their team during Spring Break. Hey, maybe you wanna come too? Oh, wait, I forgot you’re on the big guy’s watchlist. Maybe he can give you a pemission slip?"

You avoid her gaze, feeling smaller than ever at the dig. She laughs at your reaction.

Blitzø interferes. “Well I don't know what that fucking means. But you said a week? No, no, you are not parking here for a fucking week.”

“Aw, you mad, Blitzø? Choke on a sandpaper cock.” She walks away flipping him off, and he chases after her.

You stay right where you are.

Blitzø follows suit behind her and threatens to call HR lest she parks somewhere else, which understandably sends all three of them into a laughing fit at the ridiculousness of the thought. Verosika snaps her fingers signaling to whoever her guard hound she’s parading around is to go, both exiting the parking lot.

As soon as they're gone, Loona barges out of the van. “You guys know Verosika Mayday?”

“Oh, yeah, her, yeah, we dated.”

“Yeah. Same.”

“Wait. You both dated Verosika Mayday?”

"Apparently."

“Ha! Now that’s karma.”

“Shut up, Moxxie,” Blitzø tells him.

“Was it before or after she became a popstar?” Millie asks.

“Sir. You dated a popstar?”

“Okay, why are you all acting like thats such a shock? Where's all that negative energy for y/n?”

“Hello? It’s Verosika Mayday.” Loona says, in a tone that's meant to shove it in his face that what they're trying to say is obvious.

“It’s… you.” Millie adds.

“I just- I mean, y/n is understandable. But you? Was she suffering some form of brain damage?”

“Okay, look, you are all making this into a way bigger deal than it needs to be. I don't pry into your stupid personal lives.”

A chorus of different ways to tell him he does, all the time, erupts from the three, you even joining in with a “dude, yeah you do.”

“What was sex with her like?” Millie asks you, and you feel like you’re going to short-circuit. This is not something you want to get into right now.

“Millie!” Moxxie exclaims before you can even say anything in return.

“What? She’s a popstar! You'd wanna know what sex with Michael Crawford was like.”

Moxxie opens his mouth to dispute her but stops himself. “Touché.”

“So, tell me later?” Millie asks you.

“Just drop it!" Blitzø exclaims. "Millie, find a temporary spot for that truck, okay?” He throws the keys to her. “Looney, Moxxie, Y/n, let’s go handle this shit.”

You take the elevator, and Loona begins to nervously pull on her hair. “Do you think they saw me? Fuck, I did my makeup shitty today.”

“Oh, you look perfect, Looney! Like alwaysss” Blitzø tells her, and she rolls her eyes.

“Shut up da- Blitz.” She shoves him away.

“You look great, Loons. Not coming from your dad.”

“Ugh, don’t say ‘dad’,” Loona complains, storming off, presumably to the office, but bumps into the hellhound Verosika had been with in the parking lot, who you assume is her bodyguard.

Loona stutters as she tries to apologize for bumping into him, clearly flustered, and hey, you get why.

Blitzø notices it too, though, and immediately goes into protective dad mode, throwing himself between the two. “Aww, big man, where’s yout bitch bag of an employer?”

The bodyguard doesn’t seem amused by Blitzø’s try at being intimidating, a bored-as-ever look on his face. “She’s in her office. There wasn’t room on the second floor, so they rented one here on this one,” he explained, pointing at the door….

The door right across from the I.M.P. office.

Great. Awesome. Fucking fantastic.

“Oh, come on!” Blitzø exclaims, frustrated as well.

The guy laughs and shrugs before walking out. “Sorry, man.”

“Oh, no, you don’t, bitch,” Blitzø mumbles under his breath, eyes trained on Verosika’s door.

Moxxie chimes in. “Sir! How about you let me go in and try to reason with her? You two clearly have a history with her, but I’ll be immune to her insults! I don’t really listen to what’s classified as ‘pop genre’ music, so her status to me is-”

“Moxxie, shut the fuck up and go,” Blitzø interrups, and Moxxie goes on his way, entering the office. Through the blurred glass wall, you could make out the silhouette of Verosika and two other concubi.

From outside, it’s still possible to hear what he says to her, and it is pitiful. “Hello Ms…. Verosika, was it? I work for IMP and it is actually rather important for us to retain the singular parking space we were assigned, because-”

One of the concubi interrupts him, and you swear you find the voice familiar. “Aw, look at the little one! He’s got a little bowtie!”

“Please don’t condescend me, ma’am. I’m-”

An incubus pops out of nowhere, offering to do something you can’t quite make out to him.

“A… kind offer, but… I’m married.”

Verosika leans down to Moxxie’s level. “Hey, why don’t you send a little message from me back to your limp-dick boss and his new girlfriend?”

Oh fuck, oh fuck-

They’re on him in a second, the true forms showing through the blurred glass as silhouettes..

“Shit, Moxxie!”

“Moxxie, don’t let her access any of your holes!” Blitzø yells at him.

“We should go inside!” You tell him, but it’s a mere second before Moxxie’s thrown out the door. You help him get up, and you can’t help but worry if he’s okay. “Mox?”

“I- I gotta go lie down, now,” he tells you, walking into the I.M.P. office.

For a second, Blitzø looks worried about him too. And then that’s replaced with anger. “Oh, this won’t stand!” He screams, kicking open the door to Verosika’s new office and promptly yelling at her. “Alright, cunt, that’s it! If you’re gonna be shitty to my employees, then I challenge you to a fucking…challenge! Fuck, I said that twice.”

“Is this imp boy starting a demon duel?” Fuck. It’s Izabeth. That’s why the voice was familiar. You remember being her friend too. Now she glanced at you as you stood by the door like you were nothing.

All of them did.

“I think he is!” Verosika replies, seemingly excited. “What’s the game, then, Blitzo?” Of course she insisted in calling him that, too.

“Every year you STD spreaders go up topside for easy picking while Spring Break is a prime time for crime of all kind.” You know he says it to hurt her, but his words hurt you too. Does he think that about you, too? Is that how he sees you? Is that how they all see you? There’s not much time to dwell on that just then. He keeps on. “So I bet you succu-bitches can’t fuck as many people as we can off by the end of the day.”

They all laugh at him, and, yeah, you would too if you were in their place, probably.

When Blitzø doesnt back down, she leans down to be at face-level with him. “Oh, you’re serious? Well, then we’re gonna talk rules.”

“Rules? You fuck and we kill why would we need rules?”

“Her.” She points at you with a gloved claw, and your eyes widen. “She can’t seduce anyone to lure them to be killed.”

“What? That’s bullshit!”

“Hey, I’m only making things fair! Seducing the humans is our thing. And you wouldn’t believe how good she is at that. There would be none left for us, would there?” she grins.

“Oh fuck you, Verosika,” you say, tired of the witty remarks about the past you so desperately wanted to bury.

“Bet you still would if I let you.” She leans down to face Blitzø once again. “Fair?”

“Okay. We don’t need that anyway.”

“Alright then. Game on, bitch.”

[. . .]

Blitzø manages a whole two seconds of silence as you walk to the office before he just has to say something. “So. Ya wanna tell me what that whole thing was about?”

“What do you mean?”

“The way she was acting super shady and talking shit about you? She said she’d let you explain what you did to her and that’s saying something cause when it comes to me? Oh she looooves talking about what I did to her.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Huh. I’ll get it out of you somehow. But. Apparently you were like some sort of human seducing machine is what I hear? Why do we take so little advantage of that?”

“Cause we don’t need to. I’m an assassin now. I kill. I don’t need to seduce anyone to do that.”

“Okay! Okay, geez. Whatever. But don’t think I forgot whatever that was about you being on some “big guy’s watchlist”.”

You wish he would.

The two of you are the last ones to enter the meeting room, and you take a seat next to Loona as Blitzø stands in front of the big white board with stupid shit drawn all over it.

“Alright, shut your assholes! Here’s how we’re gonna do this shit.” He pulls out a drawing of yourselves, seemingly out of nowhere, and points to it as if it explained everything, when in reality it was pretty much indecipherable. “First, we find a fuck ton of clients. We portal up. We have our fun murder time as per usual. We pile all the bodies into a big fucking canoe. We push said canoe into some water. We light it on fire to attract the sharks and eagles and maybe a goose too, fuck it. They come and eat the bodies, we win the bet, we rub it in that sloppy bitch’s drunken whore-ass face, do you have any questions?”

“A canoe?” You ask.

“Why do we have to light them on fire?” Millie follows.

“Uh, yeah, why was that nonsense?”

“That one wasn’t a question.”

“That wasn’t a plan.”

“I’m sorry, that was a flawless presentation of what we should do, Mox, it’s not my fault you got a smooth little brain upstairs.”

“A what, now?”

“I’m calling you slow, Moxxie. God, why don’t you learn to take criticism, you talentless baby fucked troll?”

Moxxie climbs up to stand on the table, fuming. “Why don’t you take an art class?”

“Why don’t you see how expensive they are?” Blitzø yells back, pulling on the collar of Moxxie’s dress shirt.

“Hey, is there a way I can come with you guys this time?” Loona questions, nonchalant, interrupting whatever it was that was happening between the two and making everyone turn to look at her.

“Absolutely not, I forbid it. Not gonna happen. Sorry, sweetie, Spring Break is no place for young, vulnerable goth girls. You know the kind of freaks up there who drool all over you!”

“Just let the girl go, Blitzø,” you tell him, and he gives you a dirty look.

“Yeah, Blitz! I can blend in with humans easy enough. Just let me tag along!”

“Wait. Say that again.”

“I can… blend in with humans?”

“Do you have a human disguise?” Millie asks her, and you stop to think of it too. Since when has that been going on? Everyone’s seen yours plenty enough, even though you didn’t use it every single time you went up. How did you somehow miss the fact that Loona had a disguise of her own?

“Yeah, don’t all of you? I’ve seen y/n’s.”

The three share looks between each other, similar looks of deer caught in headlights.

“Wait. Are you the only one who has one?” Loona asks you.

“Well, yeah.”

“The three dickheads have been screwing around on Earth this whole fucking time without human disguises? And you’ve been letting them?”

“Hey how’s that my fault? Not like I can conjure disguises for them.”

“Hey now, we have to focus here! New plan. Y/n’s not allowed to use her human disguise cause apparently she’s this huge human awe-ing machine or something. But they didn’t say we couldn’t use Looney’s. Looney, you can help lure the humans to us and we’ll take care of the rest. Real simple, yeah?”

“Wait what’s that about a human aweing machine?” Moxxie questions.

“Unimportant,” you reply.

“How about the new plan, then?” Blitzø asks.

“Flawless logic,” Millie says.

“I think you’re missing the biggest issue, sir. Isn’t it crucial to have a client who demands enough kills to win this bet? We aren’t just going up to massacre!”

Moxxie has a point. But, surprisingly, it seems Blitzø has thought of that already.

“I got that covered.”

Blitzø takes out a blank piece of paper, scribbling away on it with the markers you bought him for his birthday a few months prior. After finishing whatever it was he was doing with it, he takes you all outside, revealing the handmade flyer as he glued it to a lamppost just outside the building.

Spring break

Victim

50% off!!

It even had a drawing of his very happy doodle-self beside a decapitated person and, naturally, various horse drawings scattered around the page that had nothing to do with anything. As charming as it was, there was really no way this single tiny flyer could attract anyone, let alone enough clients to have you win the bet with Verosika.

“Now, we wait.”

Moxxie voices thoughts similar to yours. “Sir, there is no way we are going to get enough clients by the end of the day with one poorly spelled, bad-grammar flyer!”

It takes less than a single minute for the street to be packed with people waiting in line in front of it.

Blitzø opens a cocky grin, laughing at Moxxie and elbowing his side before walking up to the first few people in line. “Now, who’s first?”

Okay, maybe he had this under control, after all. Huh.

[. . .]

Satan, Spring Break was… the exact same.

It was the absolute same as it ever had been, down to the thick, thick scent of hormones, sweat and bodily fluids mixed with sunscreen and a hint of weed, up to the obnoxiously loud music and even more obnoxiously loud people.

As annoying as it was to think of it now,, Spring Break did serve you a great deal in the past. Easiest, quickest way to human sex you’d ever encountered. The weeks of Spring Break could be enough to saciate a concubus’ need to go up for a long time if you were smart about it.

They were supposed to be enough, at least.

It’s been quite a few years since you’ve been up on Earth during this time of the year. Ozzie would not be pleased to hear about it, and he’d probably still go on and on about how irresponsible and careless you were being, but if you could get through this, and you truly felt you could, then maybe you could make him proud, too. Happy for you, even.

Well. Nothing like a little murder to get your mind off of things these past couple years. What’s some more?

“Now, remember, we can’t be seen, alright? And loose shots will likely cause a panic, so Loona can help with leading targets to a better spot to off ‘em. You got thhe, Looney?”

Loona takes a sniff at the piece of paper before nodding, standing up to change into her human disguise. Blitzø beams at her appearance.

“Oh, Looney, look at you, you look downright awful! I am so proud. Now fetch!” He points to the packed beach, and she does as said.

Luring the humans was going rather easily with Loona’s help. Blitzø wasn’t wrong, they were all over her. All it took was a look and a ‘come here’ motion, and she could take them wherever she needed: dark alleys where Blitzø could blow their heads off with a gun as she leaned back and watched, by the bridge where Millie could push them to their death and Moxxie could take care of the body, by some hidden corner where you could behead them… yeah, things were going pretty okay, and you had nine kills in no time.

Blitzø was just bragging about it to no one in particular when her voice came on.

“Alright, Spring Breakers! Y’all ready to get fucked up and make som ebitching bad choices?” Verosika announces from up on the stage, where she stood in her human disguise while huge pink-colored screens read ‘fuck you blitzo’ on them in block letters all around her.

“Fuck, she’s gonna sing. We’re not gona stand a chance,” you say, more to yourself than anyone else.

And that’s exactly what she does. “This is your final boarding call. All aboard.”

Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay, babe

Take it straight to bonetown

V-time, free time, baby, relax

Self-care, no hair, brazilian wax

Hornt-up, succu-bus to the beach

Catch some rays while catching some D

It takes less than a whole minute for all the concubi she’d come up to earth with to find themselves busy with one, two or more humans each. Which makes up more than the total kills up until now.

“Goddamnit, that bitch started her goadish mating call! Now she’s gonna win all these sex maniacs, we gotta pick things up, guys.”

You nod in agreement, motioning to a guy throwing up beside you. “How about him?”

“Is he on the list, Looney?” Blitzø asks, but she’s… distracted. Of course, it’s pretty clear what’s going on.

“Yeah. Yeah I think so,” she replies, and it doesn’t reassure you at all, not when her whole undivided attention is trained on the Vortex guy who you have to admit looks pretty hot in his human disguise. And hey, he looked human but he wasn’t human, so you wonder if it would- no. Fuck, no. You’re not here for anything other than killing the targets in the list.

Loona’s reply seems enough for Blitzø, who grabs an axe from who-the-fuck-knows-where and quite literally slices the man in half after getting asked if he’s a leprechaun. “Alright, Looney, c’mon, who’s next? Looney? Loon- Looney? Where’s my baby?”

Blitzø immediately panics as he can’t find her where she just was a second ago, and you grab him by the shoulders to turn him in her direction as she walks up to talk to Vortex, making to take care of disposing of the leprechaun guy’s corpse with Millie’s help as Blitzø just stares for a moment before following her.

Pack your bags

Sun’s out

Take a vacay, babe

Take it straight to bonetown

Verosika takes a swig out of a flask before yelling out “now, who wants a piece of this?” and throwing it to the audience. The liquid ends up spilled into many people’s drinks as it flies through the air before landing on the ocean water, and it takes about three seconds for your suspicions about what was in the flask to be proven right as you notice the way people are acting now- that sure as shit wasn’t just alcohol..

You and Millie find Moxxie after you’re done, and he’s watching Blitzø pathetically try to cockblock Loona. He sighs. “Aaaan, we’ve lost him. It’s looking like it’s up to us to handle this list. You wanna make sure he doesn’t blow our cover?” He asks you, and you sigh in annoyance.

“Not like I get to want anything.” You stand up regardless, making your way to where the three stood while Millie and Moxxie began their speed-run (speed-kill?) of the target list.

“What, I can’t have a break?” Is the first thing you hear from the conversation, coming from Loona.

You immediately interrupt, scolding Blitzø. “Blitz you need to get the fuck out of here you’re gonna get us into shit!”

“That’s exactly what I just said!” Loona tells you.

“That is exactly what she just said, actually,” Vortex comments and you ignore it.

“A break? We have a parking spot on the line!” Blitzø yells back, and you know he’s actually being protective of her but pretending it’s about something else.

Vortex decides to tell him off too. “Hey, dude, why dont you chill out?”

“Why don’t you stay out of it? ‘Kay? This is our business.” He holds up another one of his doodles with his tail for a second. “Literally.”

Loona growls in frustration at him. “Fuck, Blitz! Why can’t you stay out of my face for, like, five minutes?”

“Because I adopted you! And that should mean something!” He turns his back to her, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly.

“Oh, what does it matter? You’re not my real dad. I was almost eighteen!”

“It still counts!”

“Well, it shouldn’t!”

“Loon-” you try to stop her. You know her well enough to know she’ll feel bad for saying whatever she’s saying right now, but it’s no use.

“No! I didn’t need him then and I don’t need him now. You hear that, Blitz? I. Don’t. Need. You!” She’s the one to turn her back to him this time, and he looks back at her with tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“Okay, look, I know that hurt, but you can’t be out here, Blitz.”

“But- but Looney-”

“She just wants to talk to a cute guy without getting embarrassed. Let her be normal. She doesn’t mean it.”

“Oh how are you so fucking sure, huh? You keep secrets.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You ask him as you shove him away from the large group of people.

“Yeah I said it. You’re a- you’re a secret keeper! Who are you to know if people mean what they say?”

“Blitz, if this is about what Verosika said-”

“Oh but it is! It is about what Verosika said! Or what she didn’t say actually. Do we even know you?”

“My life before you is none of your fucking business- fuck.” you lose track of what you were going to yell at him when you see Moxxie get thrown in the air, getting exposed to a few people around where he lands on the sand. Blitzø’s eyes follow yours.

“Ah! Oh, my god, it’s a fucking possum!” A woman exclaims, pointing at Moxxie, to which he curses under his breath before some guy grabs him from the ground and shoves him into a beer cooler, immediately throwing it around in the air with Moxxie inside.

“Come on, we gotta go help Mox out,” you tell Blitzø.

“Ya hear that, Looney? I’m gonna go kill something. You enjoy your break!” He childishly yells to her.

You find Moxxie at the same time as Millie does. Pulls the cooler’s lid open and he falls out of it, clearly drunk off his mind from the beer. She stands over him and he calls out her name excitedly from where he lies on the sand. “Millie! Hi. Hey. Hey, where did you get four heads? I wanna kiss ‘em!” He makes grabby hands and a kissy face at her, to which she just smiles in return at the drunken state he’s in. It’s sweet, actually.

“Come on, Mox,” she mumbles before helping him stand up. He’s so wasted he needs to lean on her to keep himself standing.

“You guys okay?” Blitzø asks her.

“Yeah, we-” Millie starts, but is interrupted by… well…

“Ooh! Fish!” Moxxie exclaims, giggling, as he points to the huge, monstrous creature that rose out of the ocean, killing everything in it’s way out of the water and causing panic to overcome everyone in the beach, resulting in a screaming, bloody mess all over.

Personally, that’s not the word you’s use for it, but sure. A fish.

The fish captures Moxxie with its gross, gigantic tongue, pulling him towards itself before attempting to swallow the imp. Fuck.

Millie shares a look with you before promptly killing a man, stealing the glass bottle he held and improvising a molotov cocktail, throwing it at the creature and stunning it enough to fall back in the shallow part of the water. “Kill the rest of ‘em! Go!” She yells out to you and Blitzø, which is enough for you to trust her to solve the situation on her own.

You and Blitzø resume to killing whoever more you could identify as targets, a harder task now that they were panicking and running around in a frenzy, but you manage to get about six before Millie’s done, cutting the creature’s tongue off as it held Moxxie and sending him flying over towards Blitzø, where Blitzø, who manages to catch him in his arms, making one of the targets shocked enough for you to put a bullet though their head.

Millie finally begins to walk up to where you are after killing the monster, chest heaving with heavy breaths and spitting a little blood on the sand, but otherwise okay.

“Is Mox alright?” Is the very first thing she asks.

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine! Way to show off, Mills!” Blitzø yells, and she smiles. You give her a fist bump as she approaches you before she grabs a giggling Moxxie off of Blitzø’s arms, and she can’t help but laugh herself.

“This is funny. I’m soooooo drinky.”

She squeezes him tight and you smile at the interaction.

You only get so much smiling time when Verosika’s around.

“Blitzø.” She calls, and you all turn to see her standing with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, perfect! That must be the whores!” He quips.

“I only see two whores around here and they’re right in front of me.”

“Hey you watch your filthy fucking mouth.”

“That was handled rather… obviously, don’t you think?”

Millie picks up Verosika’s flask form the sand, holding it up before throwing it to her. “I don’t think this belongs to any of us. Would be a shame if anyone found out you guys were behind a giant monster fish in the human world.”

“Yeah y/n here could tell the big Oz himself. He wouldn’t be very thrilled, don’t ya think?” Blitzø is quick to threaten.

“Ha! She should be more worried about him finding out she’s up here right now.”

“Go fuck yourself. He’s not the boss of me. He’s the boss of you, though, isn’t he?”

Moxxie laughs obnoxiously. “Oh, Satan! You got yourself fucked!”

“Yeah, well, you three nasty-ass gremlins will be in shit for not being in disguises." She turns to face you, a bitter, hostile grin taking over her features. "And you! Your little friend already took your crystal privileges away. You wanna be a bigger disappointment?"

“Don't act like you fucking know him."

Moxxie falls over face-first onto the sand between you. “A human called me a possum. I am not a possum!” He slurs out.

“Hold on, crystal privileges?" Blitzø questions you.

It's Verosika who answers, though. “She not tell you about it?" She lets out a laugh. "Doesn’t shock me.”

Fuck. “Verosika-”

“You little fucks never wondered why she doesn't have one?”

“What do you mean? She gets one from Ozzie when she needs it like all of you freaks-" Blitzø immediately defends.

“Oh, Blitzo, you really are fucking stupid, aren't you?" She interrupts him. "She used to have one."

No. “Ver, come on-”

“Don't! Call me that. No. You're gonna hear me say what you did." She turns back to Blitzø, the same rage in her eyes as when she recalled all the ways he'd wronged her in the past, earlier that day. "Your little girlfriend here was forbidden from coming up to Earth without Ozzie’s permission for years.”

“What?” Millie asks, and it seems accidental that she says it out loud.

“Yeah. Sorry-ass had to be babysat every time she had to come up. On a watchlist like a freakin' criminal, cause, well- she kind of is." She eyes you up and down before she spits out "I'm surprised you can even be here right now. Congratulations.”

“Well duh? Of course she's a criminal. That's kind of what we do.”

“Oh, Blitzo, the killing thing you guys do is adorable. But no one bats an eye at a little murder, it's Hell. No, she broke demon law." And, then, the final threat of a carefully blocked out, written-over past, coming to haunt you in the form of her. "You wanna tell them your record time or should I?”

“You have no fucking right-”

“I have every right! I have every right. It was five months, two weeks and two days. You know how pathetic that is?"

“That supposed to mean something, bitch?” Millie growls, protective.

“Other than her being a whore, no,” Verosika shrugs.

“What does that even mean?” Moxxie asks her.

“She stayed up here for five months, two weeks and two days straight once when we were dating. I was worried sick, we fucking lived together too. And then I find out she’s been up here fucking whatever human that came into her line of sight instead of coming back home.”

“I’m- it’s not-”

“‘It’s not what you think, Ver, I swear!’” She mocks. “Boo-fucking-hoo! Now she’s on a watchlist cause Asmodeus for some fucking reason liked her enough to just be worried instead of actually punishing her.”

“I wasn’t in my right mind, you have no fucking-” fuck, you’re voice is trembling now.

“Save it, bitch.”

Blitzø notices your discomfort, deciding it’s better to go home and solve whatever this mess was there. He walks up to Verosika. “Look. We keep this pathetic little b-movie scene on the down low and you let us use the parking space. She doesn’t tell her lusty bff about what you did and everyone lives happily ever after. Deal?”

“Fine,” Verosika says through gritted teeth. “But I hate you.”

“Don’t care. We fucking won!”

[. . .]

“So… you don’t have to talk about it, but… please talk about it. What was that?” Millie asks you, careful.

You sigh. Maybe this time there’s no running from it.

A/N: genuinely don’t even know of this is good vut alas! we’re so back! sorry for the long wait lol love y’all

#mars writes #helluva boss #scandalous #blitzø #stolas #blitzo x reader #stolas x reader #blitzø x stolas x reader #helluva boss imagine #helluva boss x reader #loona #loona helluva boss #Moxxie #Moxxie helluva boss #Millie #Millie helluva boss #verosika mayday

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naomihatake · 11 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 6)

6. Where are you when I need you the most?

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6 ; Chapter 7

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

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

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: angst, graphic depictions of deaths and fatal wounds, vomiting, self-harm, brief suicidal mention, canon-typical violence. (proceed with caution since it's getting a tiny bit gore)

Word count: 9,1 k (I'm proud of myself tbh)

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

A/N: I'm sorry for appearing with a new chapter 9 days later and I hope the wait was worth it. I dropped more details about the Witch's past in this chapter and some interesting interactions with her other crewmates. The next week I'm free, which means there's a chance I might most two charters until next Sunday <3.

I'm always open for opinions and comments. Whatever you want to tell me, just do it, even all you feel like doing is leaving a heart in my comments or inbox. Every interaction is appreciated and thank you so much for sticking to this story till now <3

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

A warm palm touched her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly, but with no effect. The witch turned her head towards Luffy, her glassy eyes betraying her. It made their captain frown with worry. The sound of her real name slipping from between his lips stung worse than expected.

"It'll be alright," he smiled. "Zoro is a strong swordsman."

With horror painting her features, she shook her head and placed her shaking hand over his, gripping gently.

"You don't get it, Luffy, do you?" her voice came out like a whisper. "It's not just any dwell and that man isn't just any swordsman. I've seen plenty of people dying in front of my eyes, the crew I used to be part of, they didn't hold a chance against—"

She sank her teeth in her lower lip and looked up, blinking away the tears. Her breath was shaking and the grip on Luffy's hand got tighter. Slowly, she inhaled deeply, body trembling as her lungs swallowed the morning cold breeze.

Both Usopp and Luffy were frowning, listening intently to her words.

"This won't end well," she concluded. "He willingly got himself in danger. Zoro is nothing but some prey for Mihawk."

Luffy's sympathetic gaze didn't help her, it didn't ease her worries as he hoped. Her panic was fed by each single thought passing through her head, by each memory making a nest in the present.

"I've met one single Warlord in my entire life and he destroyed half of the strongest crew I ever knew at that time. I know who they are, I know their tactics, I know they're not to play with."

Both of her hands were clasped around Luffy's shoulder, turbulent eyes meeting his. The tips of her nails dug lightly in his skin, but he didn't wince or move.

"Yes, we are strong, but still not strong enough for them," the witch intentionally lowered her voice so it wouldn't crack into sobs. "Please tell me you know I didn't argue with him because I like to. Please tell me you get what I mean, Luffy. I'm scared."

She was barely aware of her admission, but it was hard to hold back. The witch wasn't a scaredy-cat, she didn't run away, pride filled her being all too well to ever lose a battle, be it against herself or others. That time, however, she was scared out of her mind for the swordsman.

Luffy gave her the sweetest smile she's seen in ages and squeezed her shoulder again. "He will be alright."

She let her head tilt forward, hands falling back to her sides. His faith was greater than her fears, but he couldn't erase the panic settling in her bones.

"You have no clue how much I wish you were right."

It hurt. Her chest hurt and something was crawling up her throat, differently than back in Syrup Village. It made her feel nauseous, it bubbled in her stomach and gripped at her neck, it constricted her lungs and air punctured their tissue.

Zoro just walked out of the galley exactly when the sun could be barely seen rising up from the waters. The bandana was wrapped around his head and his earrings chimed like a melody, making her head turn towards him.

The same horrified gaze from hours ago was stuck on him and yet he chose to ignore her, passing by without even casting a glance.

She stood there when Usopp, Luffy and Zoro walked by, her back turned to them. The witch had to collect the pieces of her broken heart before daring to glance at a list fight on the swordsman's side. Mihawk was already waiting for them right in front of the restaurant.

She couldn't watch another dear person die. Not again.

Her fingers dug painfully into her palms, until her nails left crescent marks on the skin, until it hurt so badly the tears in her eyes couldn't fall. Their synchronized steps beat like drums, just like her heart.

Everything was blurred out. She didn't dare look until she heard swords clashing. Like a snap, her head turned.

Mihawk stopped Zoro's attack with one small knife.

He had no chance against the warlord, just like she guessed.

No, she thought. I can't be pessimistic now. Maybe at least he'll get out alive—

But pirates don't just let their dwell partners live, the other side of her conscience commented.

Each one of Zoro's attacks were either stopped or dodged so easily by Mihawk, who seemed like he was playing rather than fighting. He was so light on his feet, body moving like a feather between Zoro's blades.

The warlord sent her green-haired crewmate flying back with a mere push of his knife when he blocked yet another one of his attacks. When Zoro got back to his feet and rushed towards him, Mihawk continued dodging each one of his attacks.

The witch could only hear a muffled conversation from a distance. She didn't even notice when Nami passed by her until she saw orange strands of hair bouncing in her vision.

The navigator didn't come from the restaurant, as she should've since she searched for a drink — or that's what she said. She walked from the other side of the dock. Her hands trembled by her side and she walked slowly, fearfully, her body so stiff, until she stopped behind Luffy.

The witch focused for so long on Nami, her gaze fell on Zoro only when the right side of his chest was penetrated by Mihawk's knife.

Air got stuck in her throat and time stopped in its tracks. Her feet were stuck right where they were and she couldn't move an inch.

Zoro, his name lingered in her thoughts, the sound of it along with the sweet chiming of his golden earrings.

Time stretched like an elastic. Seconds passed by at an agonizingly slow pace, as if the Universe itself decided to torture her with that image.

Swords. Corpses. Blood. Fear.

The witch let out a shaky breath while she trembled like a leaf in the breeze.

Zoro made a step back, the knife slipping away from his flesh. With a few other steps, he fell to his knees, with his swords digging into the wooden battens to keep himself steady.

Mihawk curled his fingers around the hilt of the sword on his back.

It seemed like he decided to end it all right then and there.

The witch didn't know if it was her imagination when Zoro seemed to glance towards her for a brief moment. All she knew was that her heart sank into her stomach and she could hear the audible cracks of her soul. The green-haired man took his white sword, placing it in between his teeth.

His gaze moved back to Mihawk so quickly she could barely register it. Her stomach turned upside down and her chest tightened when she saw Zoro rotating his other two swords faster than the brain was able to comprehend.

Mihawk and Zoro jumped into the attack at the same time. She didn't know if their swords collided or not.

Zoro fell to his knees again, panting. The swords in his hands crumbled into pieces all the way to the hilt, right in the middle of the runes the witch drew hours ago on the blades. His Wado Ichimoji fell from between his teeth.

He didn't stop there. Of course that fucking idiot didn't stop. He used the white sword to get up, resting his weight into it until he finally stood straight again, turning to Mihawk. Carefully, he sheathed his Wado Ichimoji.

With his arms held in the air and hands curled into fists, Zoro didn't let go of his word as he proudly admitted:

"Wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame."

The warlord said one word the witch didn't hear and then, with a swift motion, his sword cut deeply through Zoro's chest.

The green-haired man fell on his back, eliciting a shout of his name from Luffy.

Zoro.

His name was all the witch could hear while she rushed to his side, tears blurring her vision, tears she couldn't afford to show.

Just like he did a few moments ago, the witch got to her knees, eyes focused on the t-shirt getting soaked in Zoro's blood.

"Fucking dammit," she spoke in a hoarse voice, hands trembling.

He was bleeding heavily, the dark blue nuance of his shirt replaced by dark crimson. The wound started from under his left clavicle and curved through his chest, all the way to the right side of his ribs. Without a second thought, the witch took off her unbuttoned shirt and folded it, just to press the material on his large wound.

"Monkey D. Luffy," Mihawk said. "what's your goal?"

"I'm going to become the King of the Pirates," Luffy responded through gritted teeth.

The witch's burning gaze raised to the warlord who stood tall meters away, putting his sword back in place on his back. Her fingers ached to touch her revolvers and shoot holes through that man until she's satisfied, until the monster lurking in the depths of her soul had its blood thirst quenched. However, her hands remained pressed against her shirt, trying her best to stop Zoro's bleeding.

She's always been revengeful when people dear to her heart were harmed. Revenge she never denied, a trait of hers she's accepted long ago.

"That's a much more treacherous path than even defeating me. This world could use a few more wild cards."

"Go fuck yourself," the witch let out with wrath burning in her eyes.

She clenched her jaw and her eyebrows knitted together into a deep frown. Anger filled each corner of her being, blinding her almost all the way up, filling her to the brim.

One more drop and she would lash out.

Zoro's safety was more important than her rage and she was completely aware of that. The wounded swordsman was the only reason why she stood still by his side.

"It's too soon for him to die," and with that, Mihawk's gaze fell back on the green-haired man. "Roronoa Zoro, grow strong and come find me. I'll be waiting."

Fucker, the witch's thought wasn't voiced out that time while the warlord walked away.

"Luffy," Zoro spoke in such a soft voice.

The witch and Luffy immediately looked back at him. He was struggling to breathe properly, that mere motion probably making his entire body ache painfully.

"If I fail to become the world's greatest swordsman," he faintly spoke, barely able to open up his eyes. After some greedy gulps of air, he continued: "you'll be disappointed. Right?"

With a shaky breath, Luffy smiled at him as tears gathered in his eyes.

"You could never fail me."

The witch could feel her body shake when she realized the swordsman's life was hanging on a thread.

"Never again. From now… until I beat him," Zoro continued talking in between panting.

The witch wished she could tell him something, anything, but all she could do was continue pressing her shirt over his wound. Looking at him in that state made her heart squeeze in the cage made of ribs, wishing she could be in his place and take his pain away.

With trembling hands, he somehow managed to draw his Wado Ichimoji out of its scabbard, holding it up as he looked up at the blue sky.

"To become the greatest swordsman… I will never lose again!" he let out with a shaky breath, voice scratching at the witch's eardrums.

One of her hands curled around his shoulder and squeezed firmly, intending to bring his attention to her only for a second.

"I'm sorry about what I said, alright?" she gulped down hard, her voice cracking. "You need to live, yeah? I know you'll become the greatest. I'm sorry, Zoro, I'm sorry."

She was sorry for lashing out at him. If they were to part ways in that moment, then she'd rather make sure he never believed she was mad at him, that she didn't hate him even for a second. It was a feeling her heart wasn't capable of harboring towards him — never him. She would've ripped her ribcage open and given him her heart if she could.

The witch could only hope his tired and pained self heard her words, even as his eyes closed immediately after his arm dropped to his side along with the sword.

"You better stay alive," she whispered while looking down at him.

Her words became muffled from his perspective. All he heard was his name being spoken multiple times by Luffy and Usopp.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch has been sitting on the floor of her shared room with Nami for a while now, ever since the navigator started reading. Zoro laid unconsciously on her bed, bandages wrapped around his torso. For a long time, she didn't even dare look at him.

She will be eternally grateful for Zeff's help — the chef cook of Baratie who snitched Zoro up and told them to do whatever was necessary to keep him alive, be it telling stories or singing sea shanties.

Despite the fact that Zoro's wound wasn't bleeding anymore, her heart still screamed at her.

With knees pulled up to her chest and her forehead resting in between them, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, subconsciously protecting herself from God-knows-what. She couldn't sleep either, despite listening to Nami's alluring voice as she read from a book.

The bandage on her upper arm was worn out and it's been longer than a day since Zoro wrapped it. It was dirty with blood from the time when she intentionally squeezed it before sobs could leave her lips.

Nami stopped reading, but the witch didn't register the lack of sounds surrounding her until she heard a voice. She didn't bother to raise her head, keeping her eyes closed as she responded:

"Can you say that again? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

"Pull yourself together," Nami whispered.

The witch knew that if she'd look up, she'd see a scolding or maybe a worried pair of blue eyes staring at her.

"I will when the situation asks for it," plainly, she dismissed the navigator. "Until then, I couldn't give less of a fuck."

She was aware of her position, of how small she looked, curled like a ball against the wall, hugging herself and praying to every God she knew that the swordsman would wake up. It was pathetic, but there was no wiser way to hide her overwhelming pain. Wrapping around herself sounded like the most helpful option.

"There are a few things you two should talk about when he wakes up," Nami closed the book with a small thud.

"I'd tell anyone anything if I knew he'd wake up," this time, her voice trembled lightly.

The witch swallowed the lump in her throat that's been sitting there uncomfortably for hours, with no positive effect. The only way to even her breathing was by holding the air in her lungs for a few seconds and letting it all go with a long exhale.

"Nami."

Only then, the witch raised her head. She looked deplorable, with disheveled hair and sunken eyes, dark circles under them from the lack of sleep. Her chapped lips were red because she ripped the skin off with her nails again. There was no sign of life on her face.

Obviously, she's had better days. Everyone did, probably.

"Maybe it's because I'm sorrow-drunk and can't bring myself to hide it anymore, but I have to tell you something."

She's been debating on whether or not she shall tell Nami about her suspicions ever since she pulled out those two cards out of the tarot deck.

"I know you're hiding something, but you can't hide it from me."

The truth has been spoken. With her heart beating loudly in her eardrums and threatening to break her ribs, she continued.

"I know. You're planning betrayal."

The navigator's eyes widened as panic flooded in her soul. The orange haired woman had no clue where all this came from, didn't know how fuck she found out about that, when and why—

"I didn't tell anyone."

"Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" came out Nami's sharp response.

"I never expected you to admit it, if I am to be honest."

The witch rubbed her palms over her face and sighed heavily, as if a weight was pressed on top of her body.

"I also know there's more to the story. I don't know what or who you're protecting yourself from, I have no clue exactly why you're doing all this, but there's one thing I know for sure: the world is sitting on your shoulders, yet you refuse letting us help you carry it."

Nami stiffened in her chair. Her back straightened and her empty gaze pushed the witch out of her thoughts.

"Are you jumping to conclusions because of some stupid cards?"

"They definitely know more than me."

"Did you read you should treat your paranoia in there too?"

"While I admit there are times when I have crippling anxiety," the witch calmly stated, "I'm one hundred percent sure this isn't just a fairy tale. It's your choice to tell me or continue to keep it for yourself."

"But?" her voice lowered dangerously close to snapping.

"But we're not your enemies, Nami, and you know that well."

Not an answer the navigator expected, definitely.

"Zoro is unconscious on the bed and you're talking in metaphors — have you all gotten insane on this ship?"

"If I did, it was long before stepping on The Going Merry," the witch let out a stiffled laugh.

She dropped her forehead on her knees again, squeezing herself tighter in the embrace. The witch wasn't any less panicked than Nami, since opening up such a discussion scared her deeply. It was better than hiding and lying, though, and it felt less guilty.

"Why did you tell me this?" Nami asked with a whisper. "Be it right or wrong, why would you?"

"You don't deserve to be lied to, Nami. It makes me feel bad — hiding this from you made me feel like garbage from the start."

Even then, a gram of her guilt vanished.

"You're weirdly honest. You're aware this will haunt you one day, aren't you?"

"It's been haunting me since I got born," a sour smile painted the witch's face.

"The devil must've put some kind of curse on you."

"I only believe in evil spirits, sorry."

She didn't know where that soft laugh came from. Maybe it was her way of copying with the anxiety, with the pain. All she knew was that she hoped Nami wouldn't hide from them forever.

"Is there anything else you want to accuse me of?"

Faster than Usopp's snapping, Nami was once again serious, and the witch didn't have to look at her to figure it out.

"I never accused you. I know I'm right, but I'm not aware of the entire truth. You, on the other side, are aware of your own reality and I believe in your judgment. I hope you'll make the wisest decision and I'm saying this from the bottom of my heart."

"That's rich coming from someone so suspicious."

She's always been that way, the witch had to admit it. It wasn't only anxiety or tarot readings, there were times when she was straight up acting and thinking like a paranoid and it was cutting years off her life. Worrying and thinking over and over again, being hyper aware of everyone's actions, including her own.

Nami resumed her reading, her voice strained this time, as if she forced herself to talk out loud. Each syllable sounded rougher than the other, but that didn't stop the navigator from telling that story.

The witch wasn't paying attention, instead focusing on the moments spent with all of them, just like last night, when they were all eating and teasing each other. She needed to talk to Zoro, to tell him again that she's sorry.

Maybe he didn't hear me clearly before he fell unconscious, she wondered. She moved one of her arms and curled her fingers around the wound on her bicep. It stung good. If it could stop the stream of tears threatening to fall, then it was good, no matter how much it hurt, how the pain sunk deep into her bones, making her flinch.

There was something she wanted to clear out with Nami, but before the witch could speak, approaching steps made her mouth close shut. The presence felt light once her senses registered it, like a sparkling piece of hope — Luffy. She remained like a statue, breathing so slowly it was barely obvious she was still alive.

"Why did the king have to kill him?" he asked innocently.

He was referring to Nami's telling.

Without even having to glance up at him, the witch knew he was feeling unwell. There was no light in his voice and he sounded unsure of himself, so disoriented.

"Sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The witch knew where this conversation was heading.

"Why does everybody keep saying that?"

Luffy's voice desperately tried to reach out to the orange-haired woman.

Judging from the creaking of the chair, Nami got up from her seat as she spoke:

"Because you could've saved Zoro. He didn't have to fight Mihawk, but you let it happen. "

A few seconds of silence filled the room with thick tension.

"Look at her," Nami pointed with her chin towards the witch. "It looks like if he goes, she goes too. If one of us crumbles, everyone does. Look at us, at how we're handling it, at how Zoro does or, better said, how he doesn't handle it."

The witch couldn't understand why she was suddenly part of their conversation or why Nami took her side and tried to protect her from some unknown entity. Probably, she really looked worse than she thought. A sense of relief patched up one of the countless wounds under her skin when she figured out the navigator said all those things because she cared.

At the very same time, she knew Nami's words must've made Luffy suffer greatly, pushing her to raise her head and give her friends her entire attention.

"Nami," the witch intervened gently.

"You're in no place to talk," she cut her off quickly, her eyes like turbulent seas. "We're all a mess and it's all because of his stupid decision. But he could've been stopped," Nami turned her head to Luffy again.

"Nami, stop it," the witch furrowed her eyebrows. "Fighting will do no good. We've argued enough last night, there's no need for that anymore."

Nami was panicked and stressed out of her mind as well. Everything gave her away: the trembling hands, the shaking voice, tone close to breaking in a million pieces with each word, even the tears that gathered in her eyes. However, no drop rolled down her cheek.

"Tell me, Luffy," Nami vehemently continued with a tensed expression. "Would you see him like this? He might die."

Stop saying that, please, the witch thought as she took in another breath. He knows. Everyone knows. Please, stop saying he'll die because I might believe it too. I want to believe in him, not in whatever life changing lesson the universe gave me.

"And I'd do anything to save him," Luffy whispered with a tender smile on his face.

Me too. I'd rip my heart out of my chest and give it to him. I'd rip off my flesh and put it on his wounds. I'd die if I knew my life would be given to him.

"Anything," Luffy continued. "Except stand in the way of his dream."

God fucking dammit.

"We all have dreams, but we outgrow them," Nami clenched her teeth after she spoke.

"Is that really what you think?" Luffy's smile held so much hope. "Don't you have a dream?"

"Yeah. Right now, is for Zoro to not die in my bed," the navigator let out in a strangled voice.

"Isn't there something that you want? Something more," the straw hat whispered. "More than anything else in this world."

When the witch looked at Nami, it was obvious she was on the verge of tearing up, her nostrils flaring. Her eyes were already bloodshot.

"Not everyone gets to follow their dreams."

Nami didn't wait for any of them to respond before she walked out of the room. The witch got to her feet and tried to catch the navigator's hand in hers, but she wasn't fast enough. All she could do was glance at Luffy and place both of her palms on his shoulders, just like he did at the crack of dawn.

He looked at the witch with a hopeful and equally worried gaze.

"I know you meant the best when you encouraged him to follow his dream, Luffy," the witch squeezed his shoulders. "It's alright. Nami knows that as well. She's worried, like all of us. We all said hurtful things to each other lately."

His lips trembled when he attempted to say something, but he didn't dare to anymore. Instead, he searched for reassurance.

Was he in the wrong? Did Zoro get hurt because of him?

"It's not your fault," the witch continued with a tiny smile on her face. "I promise you. Everything led up to this. It couldn't have been avoided, unfortunately. No one could've stopped Zoro — you know he's a stubborn asshole."

Luffy scoffed.

"You know I'm right."

"I do," the straw hat nodded shily. "I think…" he gulped down, looking at his feet. "Maybe I can clean his sword for when he'll wake up."

"I'm sure he would be grateful about it. I'll stay here a bit longer."

She didn't let go of Luffy's shoulders until he moved away. Just to ease her concern, he smiled faintly at her before leaving the room.

Looking down at the unconscious pirate hunter, the witch couldn't believe her eyes. She gulped, not even daring to grasp at his hand, scared he'd break even because of a feather-like touch. She took in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, opening them again only to see the same man in the exact same position.

She was scared for him, for his life. She didn't want to be a nuisance and stop him from doing what he believed would bring him happiness. Or maybe that word was too much — but winning against Dracule Mihawk would've made him proud, it would've fulfilled a promise he made to someone long ago. She didn't know who was at the other end of the promise, but he seemed to be a man of his word, so trying to stop him turned her into a selfish person.

Her eyes were locked on his face, brushing with the back of her hand some small droplets of sweat on his forehead. She was worried out of her mind, now regretting she didn't do more to stop him, to make him change his mind when he was maybe too drunk to think twice.

"Be careful, Zoro," the witch told him back then, her gaze betraying the worry crippling through her entire being.

She was right. He should've been more careful. He should've been less reckless, should've listened to Nami and her, even if Luffy encouraged him to chase his dream. Was it really worth it?

Once again, she sighed. She was selfish, greedy, it was wrong to think that his dream wasn't worth the entire world. Heck, even she would do anything for him, just to see him open his eyes again, just to hear another bored or witty remark coming from between his lips.

Instead, he was silent and still, only the slow movement of his chest visible as he breathed. It was the only thing that managed to bring her an ounce of comfort.

At least he was alive, she continued telling herself.

It was clawing at her heart, messing with it, her thoughts roaming around, jumping one on top of another. She was overthinking again, the worst habit she could've had — or that's what she silently believed for years.

The witch should've fought with him to death back then, when he was stubborn enough to throw Nami's words at her while they argued. Maybe it would've made him change his mind. As she continued looking at him, she worthlessly tried to take some of the blame for what happened.

Hidden under his bandages, the same wound made the woman standing by his side believe she saw the Death Reaper, even if he was the one unconscious on a bed.

Carefully, she sat down next to him, without taking her eyes off of him even for a moment.

"You're kind of worrying us all, y'know? Luffy is in denial of your possible death and Nami seems restless. Usopp is too silent for his usual self," she whispered.

Her first instinct was to touch him, but her fingertips hovered above his hand. She didn't know if it would've been right to seek the warmth of his skin while he wasn't even awake. All the witch could do was hope that deep down in his soul, he felt and heard all of them.

"I'm worried too. No. Worried is an understatement. I'm terrified," the words trembled as they left her lips, the same chopped lips she sank her teeth into. "I'd rather have you call me an idiot," she chuckled sourly.

With slow and careful gestures, she gathered enough courage to caress his hand with her fingers, feeling small cuts here and there. He was still warm, which eased a few of her worries.

She made a long pause, staring at the seemingly lifeless man she would give her life for.

"Remember when we drank together on the deck, two nights ago?"

A fragile smile appeared on her face at the reminder of that night. She stole the last drop of his bottle before he could finish it with a grin, playfully nudging at his ribs. He failed to threaten her about how she owes him something for that. He was handling his liquor better than her and yet, he couldn't hide his smirk or the sparkle in his eyes.

That night, bottles later, the witch got dizzy and tipsy. At first, she almost fell into a sea of melancholy after she shared pieces of her with Zoro. She doesn't remember how, but he got her laughing way too easy with his remarks and some silly stories.

"You're flushed already," he pointed out back then.

"You're kinda rosy in the cheeks as well, swordsman."

At that time she damned the alcohol for the soft gaze she had when she looked at him. Her eyes were sparkling with adoration when they danced on his face, peace sinking in her very bones in his presence. She shouldn't have drank. It was so obvious that she had a soft spot for him, that he had a special place in her heart not even a month after they met.

And who was at fault for her drunken state that night? Roronoa Zoro, obviously. He was at fault when she giggled and talked too much about too many things at once, so much more passion in her words than usual — was that even possible? he thought to himself. She always had a light and warm way of talking, her voice many times giving away her feelings.

A promise was a promise, even if she didn't wholeheartedly accept it from the beginning. She surrendered quickly and told him that yes, she owes him something, maybe a secret.

The witch remembered everything the next day, but acted like her memory had faded. The realization hit her hard the next morning, when she figured out her irrational fear of sharing secrets. She shouldn't have made that promise, so she played dumb, as if the conversation they had was forgotten about.

"Maybe it's not exactly a secret, but I like it when you call me by my name."

Maybe he hears me.

"I didn't hear my name being spoken for a long time. It makes me emotional every time, with no exception."

You're a crybaby, he should've said.

Her hand fully settled on top of his while the witch continued to slowly rub her fingertips into his skin, trying to bring herself back to earth even if her thoughts were sailing through unfortunate memories.

"I wasn't called by my name for years after my father became a pirate," she continued the story that started during their drinking night. "He aimed to become an Admiral and he was part of the Navy Forces for half of his life. For a long time, he thought he could do better than his comrades and hoped he could change the corruption that took place in the Government and the Marines. Insane, right?" she let out a sour chuckle. "An Admiral becoming a pirate. Everyone called him insane."

Once again, she smiled at the faint memories of her father's warm smile. There were details she didn't mention that night on the deck, like the status of her father in the Navy.

"I didn't reach ten yet when he left. He considered it would've been dangerous to stay with us and, if I am to be honest, mom would've kicked him out of their home."

Their home, because that place was never her home.

"Calling me by my name would've meant he still has ties with me and someone might've taken advantage of that."

Nine years ago, the witch was a child who only learnt how to use a kitchen knife for cutting vegetables. That child has been stripped of her innocence a few years later.

"A few times a year he would visit me. He would hide from the Marines, while I would hide from my mom. I still remember how he was so much happier. He looked younger, like he was living his teenage years and not his thirties. Except for a few days I'd stay with him and his crew, he was roaming around the seas. He never judged a single soul, believing it wasn't his job to do so, even if he would protect anyone who needed help. He changed the meaning of a pirate in a good way."

She turned her head towards the window, watching the blue sky mingling with the sea and the port of Baratie where people were walking on the wooden battens.

"He was caught by the Marines while he visited me and killed in the center of the city," her voice lowered to a gentle whisper, just like the breeze coming from the open window and giving her goosebumps.

She remembers that moment all too clearly, eyebrows knitting together as she squeezed Zoro's hand lightly, hoping it would bring some comfort to her shattered heart.

A life that felt like an eternity already made her believe her name was like damnation for anyone who said it. A few syllables being spoken and you'd be cursed to die one way or another, since her mother refused to call by the name her father chose when she saw light for the first time. Her father and his crew were the only ones calling her name so dearly, with honey latched onto their voices, treating her like a daughter.

She was someone's daughter when she was with them. And now, by Luffy's side, she was someone's friend.

"I don't want to watch you die too," only then she looked at him again. "Don't die on me. Don't leave us alone."

There was determination in her tone, mingling with pain and sorrow. Half of her believed in him the same way she believed the sea was blue and that leaves were green. The other half drowned in anguish.

Zoro seemed almost serene, despite the small frown that never left his face. She took in a deep breath and moved her hand away from his, only to lean over and rest her elbows on her knees.

She needed some fresh air.

The witch got up and left the room in a hurry, before tears would've slipped down her cheeks. She pushed it all aside, holding it in, since there was no time to weep at anyone's grave. Zoro was still breathing, even if half dead.

He will get better. He had to.

She walked into the galley. Standing up in front of the table was Sanji, wearing only his white and blue checkered shirt, the black jacket suit abandoned on the armrest of the couch. He was cutting some vegetables, skillfully holding the knife.

On the cushions sat Luffy, cleaning Zoro's white sword, just like he said. Meanwhile, Usopp was the one to notice her first, leaning with his hands prompted onto the wooden table. Nami couldn't be spotted anywhere.

The sound of her own name almost made her flinch. The witch blinked quickly, looking at Usopp. Both Sanji and Luffy looked at her then. The latter had some deep puppy eyes — her heart aches at that look alone.

"How is he?"

"Unconscious," she breathed out softly.

She let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair, her eyebrows pulled together.

"I suppose you haven't eaten anything since yesterday," Sanji smiled gently. "Anything I could make for you?"

"I appreciate it, really, but I don't have an appetite," she dismissed him with a faint smile of her own.

"You could use some energy, you know," Usopp mumbled.

"You, Luffy? What would you like to eat?" Sanji got back to chopping the vegetables.

"I'm not hungry right now. You could make something for Zoro. He'll surely be hungry when he wakes up!"

Their captain still had hope bubbling in his chest and it was the only thing keeping them all afloat.

However, the witch couldn't bear to think about it anymore. She spotted her shirt hanging on a nail in the wall, close to the couch. With a quick gesture, she grabbed at it, intending to put it on herself until the heavy scent of blood filled her senses the second time that day—

The shirt was soaked in Zoro's blood from the time when she used it to stop the bleeding of his wound. Nausea crawled up her throat and she unintentionally dropped the piece of cloth when she became aware of the sickness settling deeply in the pitch of her stomach.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

With a hand covering her mouth, she rushed out of the galley, on the deck, the doors shutting harshly behind her. She leaned over the railing as the acidic taste made its way up her throat and on her tongue.

A disgusting sensation, truly.

She's seen blood before, she saw countless corpses laying at her feet, but nothing could compare with the vision of a dear person giving their last breath. She couldn't believe she vomited because of blood, such a normal occurrence in her life.

But it wasn't just any kind of blood — it was Zoro's and it sunk into the material of her own shirt.

She will have to throw it away. There's no way in hell she would manage to ever wear that again, even if it would be clean and smelling like lavender.

Tears clung to her eyelashes when she opened her eyes again, looking down into the sea. She was breathing heavily and she regretted swallowing her own saliva, as the awful taste lingered in her mouth unpleasantly.

Warm fingers touched her shoulder and before she saw whose hand it was, there was a glass of water being shoved towards her. When she glanced up, she saw the blonde waiter.

"Thank you, Sanji," she took the glass from his hand, sipping slowly as the gentle weight on her shoulder disappeared.

"If I knew such a beautiful lady was waiting for me to wake up, I would've opened my eyes much sooner."

The waiter — who could apparently also cook like a professional — said that in a somewhat flirtatious tone. Also, there was compassion lingering in his honeyed voice.

"If Zoro would hear you, he would've thrown you overboard."

Nami.

The witch didn't even notice her on the deck until that moment, her head snapping towards the navigator, her eyes sparkling with hope as she gripped at the glass in between her fingers. Nami was a few meters away from her, with her back facing the sea and her hands curled around the railing.

The witch has seen Nami's expression countless times when she looked in the mirror after a crying fit. The same bloodshot eyes and puffy eyes, the red tip of her nose and the husky voice.

"I don't remember you having sea sickness," Nami pried into her soul.

The witch looked towards the water at the bottom of her glass, ashamed of her own reaction.

"Because I don't have sea sickness," the witch whispered weakly, basically admitting her vulnerable state.

She was more than just thankful Sanji chose not to elaborate on the reason behind her reaction. There was still acid sitting on her tongue, even after she gulped down the last droplets of water from her glass.

"Where are you heading to?"

The witch noticed when Nami straightened her back and walked away, towards the dock.

"Maybe I can find another drink at the restaurant," Nami waved the back of her hand at the witch.

That sounded very familiar to a lie for some reason, but was it the witch's place to comment?

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

Familiar fear made its way through her body, scratching underneath the skin, whispering in her ear like a mantra the same phrase her mother has always told her: "there's nothing you can do about it, so accept it."

Those words always unsettled the young witch deeply. She heard that voice everytime she hid in a room with the books her grandmother left behind, pages filled with tarot and palmistry, the promise of real magic, different from the fairy tales. It sounded and felt palpable, her eyes sparkling. Those books were her treasure, a future filled with freedom.

The same words were being shouted in her ears by the ghosts when her body stiffened in its spot. She wanted to scream while the man who was her father was dragged away by Marines, this time on the port of Baratie, not in her hometown.

The deafening yell she wanted to let out was silent. Her lips didn't even part and her awareness slipped away as she continued to see blood pooling at her father's feet, his signature royal blue coat painted in crimson. As if her vocal chords broke before she opened her mouth, no sound left her lips.

"He deserved it," sounded so clear in her ear, as if her mother stood right beside her, watching the same scene unfolding over and over again.

No, no, I can't let him die! I need to do something! Please, dad, you can't—

The man who stood proudly was dying, his body decomposing right before her eyes. A sickening view, as the skin melted off the meat, leaving only bones and tendons behind, covered by heavy clothes, two empty holes in his cranium instead of beautiful sparkling eyes. Blood dried on the white bones and sunk into the material of his coat and it flowed towards her, to the tips of her boots—

"Luffy! Arlong is here and he's after you, we have to leave now!"

The witch gasped loudly, her eyes snapping open. Nami, who just entered, was panting heavily, fingers gripping at the edge of the doorframe.

Who's Arlong?

She noticed Luffy who just got up from the chair he was sitting on, right by Zoro's side. Usopp had his fingers curled around one of the ropes holding the bed in the room hanging in the air.

There were no dead corpses around. Gosh, that nightmare was scary as hell. Her heart still drummed in her eardrums, blood rushing through her veins at an alarming pace.

She managed to get on her feet, her palm glued to the wall to support herself.

"Where do you think you're going, Luffy?"

Nami was panicked. Her fear grew steadily, just like fire, and she was on the edge of cussing out that entire bunch of confident idiots.

"We can't let Arlong hurt people just because of us. He might kill everyone if we don't step in."

Luffy was rarely so serious, but the situation asked for it. However, the navigator was anything but happy with his suicidal decision.

The witch turned her head towards the unconscious swordsman. She took in a deep breath, calming the waters threatening to destroy her mind. Then, her warm gaze raised back to the navigator who squeezed the map in between her trembling fingers.

"You'll stay here and protect the ship, Nami," Luffy smiled reassuringly. "I trust you."

The orange haired woman searched for a different reaction from the witch, but received the same determination.

"Have you all grown insane?" she whispered in horror.

The witch made slow steps towards her and engulfed her in a warm hug, wrapping her arms around the navigator's body. She squeezed her gently, resting her chin on Nami's shoulder.

"Something is troubling you greatly. Don't lie to me," the witch whispered in her ear softly. "You've got something in your head and you're pushing all of us away. We trust you, even if it'll bring us our death."

That's what scared Nami the most.

The witch parted just to look into Nami's troubled blue eyes.

"We'll be alright. We have to be. We'll figure it out together."

She had no clue how much Nami wanted to believe her, but it was impossible to do so. The navigator knew better what danger awaits them in Baratie now that Arlong appeared, that monster—.

Right. That's what pirates were: monsters. So why did the ones in front of her look like friends instead of demons stealing her life away?

The witch squeezed her shoulders and smiled so warmly, so calmly, different from the agitation they would face.

For one second only, Nami dared to believe. Then, it crumbled to her feet when Luffy and the witch left her room with one glance back at Zoro.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•

The witch found herself in the restaurant once again. Her fingers gripped tightly at the gun she held, finding comfort in the familiar weight settled in her hand. On purpose, she stood behind the other three men, sharp eyes scanning her surroundings carefully. They were lucky they chose to enter from the first floor, since she could easily hide.

She wasn't hiding for the reasons some would think of. The witch intentionally stood on the side, analyzing the situation. First of all, she had to find the smallest opportunity to find a weak spot for that fishman. From her spot, still glued to the wall and hidden from everyone's eyes, she focuses on Luffy's conversation with Arlong.

"I expected someone… bigger," Arlong commented with a wide grin, sharp teeth on full display.

He could definitely be classified as scary, but the witch didn't want to admit that to herself. Was he dangerous? Of course.

"Me too," Luffy commented.

Alright, maybe Luffy had far more confidence than she thought, since he dared to make fun of that fishman, angering him. It wasn't enough that Luffy was hunted down by Arlong, he had to make him angry as well—

What was she scared of?

She took in a deep breath and a few seconds were enough for her heartbeat to beat at a normal pace. The witch didn't have enough time to worry about consequences, she had to find their weakness quickly and act on it.

While her focus slipped from them, Luffy was already walking down one of the two pairs of stairs meeting up at the first floor of the restaurant. Arlong threatened the straw hat about something and the first thing she heard was the deafening sound of a shotgun.

The same sound was followed by a soft chiming filling the silence.

Her chest tightened since no groan of pain could be heard from anyone. When she glanced at the people downstairs, she saw Zeff — the cook who stitched Zoro up — with a gun pointed at Arlong. However, the fishman only turned his head back and cocked an eyebrow at the cook.

The bullet was most probably what caused that chiming sound. It seemed like fishmen's scales were bulletproof.

Fucking great. Her long range fighting style wasn't to her advantage.

An ounce of fear uncomfortably gnawed at her courage. The witch hated that helpless sensation, as if there was no escape, as if that was her dead end.

Her fingers gripped tighter around her gun, until the skin turned yellow.

I can't chicken out now. I don't have the luxury of turning my back against a fight in such a critical situation.

She swallowed the lump in her throat after she bit so hard onto her lower lip she tasted copper on her tongue.

Everyone has a weakness, right? Fishmen must have one as well.

On the floor below, Luffy threw his stretchy arms at Arlong, with his hands curled into fists. Zeff was harshly thrown into a table that broke down, making Sanji jump into action as well. Usopp was the only one that remained upstairs, uselessly hiding behind the decorative wrought iron railing — he could be easily seen.

Crouching down to Usopp's level, the witch slowly walked towards him with the gun still in her hand. When his eyes fell on her, he blinked like a confused owl.

"Guns don't work!" he whisper-shouted at her, horror painting his features.

With a sigh, she grinned cheekily.

"Are you running, scaredy-cat?" she taunted him with an arched eyebrow.

"Are you insane?" he frowned when she was a few inches away from him. "You can't seriously believe your gun is gonna do any damage to those monsters."

Glancing down between the iron bars of the railing, the witch spotted other two fishmen getting up from their table. So there were three in total.

With an unusually serious tone, she stared into Usopp's eyes, determination oozing out of her.

"You can't run now, Usopp. I hope you're aware of that."

"Even you hesitated for a second!"

His nervous demeanor and his over-thinking habits got the best of him at that moment. He was equally scared and amazed by the witch's courage.

"That was before I realized there's no going back. Usopp," she lowered her tone, fingers gripping at his shirt to bring him down from the clouds. "If you choose to run away, you will never become a brave warrior of the seas. Do you hear yourself? We're not running anywhere. We have to fight if we don't want to leave Luffy and Sanji to deal with the fishmen on their own."

She wasn't exactly good at motivational speeches, but that seemed to shake his soul well enough.

"Now help me find out their soft spots so we can bring those idiots down before they destroy this entire restaurant and eat us alive."

Bullets couldn't penetrate their scales. She didn't know if blades could work any better either. Also, Arlong alone had the highest bounty in the East Blue, not his friends. He was most probably much stronger than them.

If she could bring down at least one of the other two fishman, it was also a win.

Then, an idea popped into her head.

Their eyes.

They didn't have anything protecting their eyes except for the fact that they were sunk into their faces. With her aim, she had a chance to shoot one of them. She had to take advantage of the fact that no one knew she was there and making a plan.

Taking in a deep breath, the witch placed the gun between the iron bars and aimed at the fishman with ridiculously big lips. She wasn't exactly that far away, but she had to concentrate. One single miss and everything would go down, since her presence would be obvious and her hand to hand fighting skills weren't that well developed against raw strength.

She waited patiently, Usopp still by her side. Once the fishman stood still, turned towards her, she pulled the trigger of her gun.

The bullet struck his eye and he groaned in pain, receiving a proud smile from the witch who quickly hid behind a table from upstairs, dragging Usopp with her. Her heartbeat was so fast in her ears it could leave her deaf.

She had to pull herself together.

"You've got good aim," Usopp's voice trembled.

"Thanks," she breathed out heavily, eyes closing for a second.

There was an entire tornado in her soul. The witch knew there was no place for running away, but she was equally aware of her disadvantage against fishmen who fight with their fists.

Zoro would've loved the thrill of this fight.

But he wasn't there to joke about her being a scared little lady.

And Nami wasn't there to yell into her face and tell her to wake the fuck up and help her find a better plan.

Before she had a chance to notice, Usopp was crawling down the stairs on the left once an idea popped into his head, or that was what the witch thought.

She felt a certain presence walking up the stairs on her right and her eyes widened. The other fishman spotted her.

"Here you were, wench," he spoke with a growl.

She didn't have enough time to scramble to her feet before a rough hand wrapped around her neck and lifted her up in the air, pushing her against the wall. She could barely even groan when her breathing was restricted by the awfully strong grip the fishman had on her throat.

Her gun fell from her hand and hit the floor with a weak sound.

Uselessly, her fingers grabbed at the muscled blue arm holding her up, feet a few inches away from the floor. Compared to him, her grip was weak, insignificant.

The witch was never the type to necessarily wish to live, but she certainly didn't want to die in that moment, when others' lives were hanging on a thread.

Also, she didn't want that ugly fucking fishman with big lips to be the last sight before she closed her eyes forever.

Dammit.

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

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 4 months

Text

Shooting a Movie part 5

Note: the end of an era! thank you for all being so patient, I really hope this fic is worth the wait. I have read this over and over again, excuse any mistakes left!

reblogs & comments are very much appreciated, and make sure to read the previous chapters: part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4.

Warnings: 18+!! smut and a bit of angst.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) x Modern!Masema

summary: you met Sihtric and Masema at a party.

wordcount: 4,9k

Masterlist

You needed a few long seconds to remember where you were once you woke up; in a strange bed in a strange room. Slowly you began to recognise the place and to remember the night before, how the weather had turned grim and how Masema had forbidden you to drive home. And rightfully so, because it wouldn't have been safe at all. You turned under the sheets and found the bed was empty, except for you, and the pillow next to you was cold. You figured Masema must've been awake for a while already, and when you sat up you suddenly realised you were naked, which quickly brought back the midnight memories.

You remembered waking up several hours after midnight when heavy thunder rolled through the sky outside, causing the windows and doors to vibrate at the intensity. Without thinking you had rolled over to Masema's side, and Masema, in his drowsy state, was more than willing to pull you tightly against his body to make you feel safe. And the cuddling had quickly turned into some gentle and pleasant fondling, which then progressed into a sleepy late night sex session. And Sex with Masema was different when there weren't any cameras, when it wasn't just a job to him. The sex was still intense, even when half awake, but he was more passionate and very affectionate too, something he lacked when shooting porn because he simply drowned any feelings out when working, for it was just a job. And this night had been different, this had been real and honest.

And you had enjoyed it, every deep and slow thrust which was pleasantly bruising, and the way his hand had been wrapped around your throat while his teeth and lips grazed your ear with each low and heavy moan he let out rhythmically. You had enjoyed how the weight of his warm and naked body felt on top of you while you had one leg hooked around his waist, and you loved how his soft and sloppy kisses felt on your neck and tasted on your lips. And you had loved the way he fucked you almost lovingly for hours, making you dizzy and see stars each time he edged you once you were close. Torturing you in the most satisfying way until he finally allowed you to cum, which then had been pure bliss as your nails had dug into his back while your eyes were closed and your mind wandered off to Sihtric…

You had no regrets the morning after, but your mind immediately went to Sihtric again. You suddenly remembered the last text he had sent you, which had made you so emotional that you had wept yourself to sleep in all silence because of your conflicted feelings. You were in love with Sihtric, you knew that, but you still denied it to yourself with every chance you got. But you knew that there was no denying anymore now, not after the way you had imagined that it was Sihtric who was making love to you last night, and not Masema. You grabbed your phone and finally replied to Sihtric, as you didn't know how to respond when you had received the message the night before.

You: I miss you more.

You sighed sadly and put on your lingerie along with a crop top, and you went down the fancy marble stairs, towards the kitchen, where you found Masema doing some paperwork as he sat at his kitchen table.

'Morning,' you said rather hoarsely.

'Morning,' Masema said curtly, his eyes betraying he had gotten as little sleep as you had, 'help yourself,' he said and cocked his head towards his kitchen.

Masema eyed you up while you poured yourself some coffee, and he then suddenly pitched an idea. Since you were only dressed in some underwear and a top, he thought it would be a good setting to snap some pictures together for your OnlyFans. You agreed, because you still needed more content to make more money, and you put on an apron to finish the look of a "slutty housewife". The pictures turned out great and you would upload one of them later when you were home again.

You and Masema never brought up what had happened during the night, and that's how you were sure that it had meant nothing for either of you. It had just been good sex without any romantic feelings involved, and that was that, and you thanked Masema for everything before you left, for working with you and for being kind enough to let you stay the night.

'Not a problem,' Masema said softly, 'thank you too, and hit me up if you ever wanna shoot something again.'

You said you'd always keep him in mind, and then departed after you had kissed his cheek.

Finally back home again you uploaded one of the pictures you had taken that morning, and you couldn't help but feel bothered that Sihtric hadn't read your message yet, but you decided to just try and go on about your day, even if it was with a heavy heart.

But Sihtric had seen your text on his screen-cracked phone, and he also saw the content you had created with Masema once you uploaded it to your OnlyFans. He told himself again and again that you were just working and that it meant nothing, but when he saw Masema had left a comment on your post saying 'My Goddess', he couldn't help but feel his heart sink, as Masema never left comments.

And so Sihtric figured that he really had to get over you…

Weeks passed and you became frustrated with the fact that Sihtric had stopped texting you regularly again, and you had realised that any interaction had been nonexistent ever since you spent that night with Masema. You also noticed that Sihtric had stopped uploading daily content and that only every few days he would share a risky photo, but there were no more regular videos or weekly livestreams. You tried to accept the fact he had grown distant once again and decided to stop reaching out too.

Sihtric had never responded to your last text, simply because he didn't know what to say to the fact that you apparently missed him too. He felt it was better if he would just keep away from you, still hoping he could get over you and get on with his life so he could start doing his job again. But that he couldn't get over you, and that you weren't able to forget him either, became evident when you both unknowingly attended the same party several weeks later.

Everyone you worked with had a contract with the same adult movie studio, and that studio was celebrating their ten year anniversary, throwing a big party and inviting all of their hottest stars.

You dressed up nicely, wearing your signature short black skirt, with black thigh high boots underneath and a neon green crop top to finish the look. You hung out with some of your girlfriends at the party while enjoying some drinks, having spotted Masema already who gave you a sly smile and a wink as he noticed you too from a distance. The venue was huge, crowded and warm, while the music was loud and lights flickered to the dance worthy beats.

After some time you found yourself alone as your friends had gone to the packed dance floor, and your heart suddenly skipped a beat when your eyes landed on Sihtric, who was leaning on the balcony railing on his own on the second floor, holding a drink as he mindlessly looked out over the dance floor. His eyes scanned the faces of those he knew and those he had never seen before, and they locked with yours once they landed on you and then lit up with a needed spark as they widened for a split second. He then pushed himself slightly up, contemplating if he was going to run over to you or simply run out of the door and leave. But he did neither, instead he was nailed to the ground as you smiled at him and cautiously made your way through the crowd and up the stairs.

You found the second floor rather deserted, apart from a few couples making out in the far corner, and you helplessly teared up as you approached Sihtric. Once again he was so effortlessly good looking, wearing all black clothing and one of his famous dark flannels, with the equally famous hint of eyeliner and that dangling cross earring of his. Without thinking you wrapped your arms around him once you were close enough, as if no time had passed since you last saw him, and Sihtric greeted you with a kiss on your cheek and a tight hug, which seemed to last even longer this time than all the other times before, but you didn't mind that at all. You kept your arms tightly wrapped around his waist too while his face was buried in your neck. You lightly swayed as you both enjoyed the feeling of being together again, and you inhaled his pleasant scent while he slowly moved his fingers through your hair. And to your surprise, he was the first to speak after a long silence.

'I had no idea you'd be here tonight,' Sihtric said in your ear, trying to be audible above the music.

'I had no idea you'd be here either!' you yelled back, one hand on his chest and the other remaining on his waist, while he kept one arm circled around yours and his other hand comfortably resting just above your buttocks. 'You look so good,' you smiled.

'So do you,' Sihtric smiled faintly, which caused you to blush instantly and you buried your face in his chest again.

Your hands trailed up and down each other's bodies as you both slightly leaned back, and he then rested his forehead against yours, just savouring the pleasant presence of one another.

'Hey,' Sihtric said after a moment, 'do you want to go outside? To talk?'

You nodded and he took your hand, then led you down the stairs and through the crowd to the darkened and quiet parking lot, where he immediately pulled you in his arms again, holding you even tighter than before while you leaned back against the venue wall.

'Where have you been, Sihtric?' you finally asked, concerned.

'At home. Mostly in my head I guess,' Sihtric said softly and forced a smile while he kept you close.

You looked up at him, saddened, and he returned the same gaze before he leaned his forehead against yours again and settled his hands on your waist.

'You disappeared,' you whispered as your lips almost touched his.

'I know,' Sihtric replied softly, 'I'm sorry.'

You both didn't continue to speak and only leaned in further, slowly, until your lips touched and you immediately captured each other in a long kiss. And it was just an innocent kiss on the lips, until you pulled away slightly to look at him, your hands trailing up his chest and then grabbing the neck of his shirt to pull his mouth back to yours again. You both sought permission to deepen the kiss, and the familiar feeling of his tongue in your mouth made you lightheaded and desperate for more. Only then you realised how much you had truly missed him and how much you had longed for him, while Sihtric had been painfully and quietly aching for you ever since the last time he had seen you.

'I missed you,' Sihtric whispered against your lips, 'so much, you don't understand.'

'Then talk to me,' you murmured and kissed him again, 'because you're right, I don't understand, you always disappear on me.'

'And I'm sorry,' he said again as he pulled away and took a step back, dragging his hands through his hair, 'I just… I,' he shook his head and exhaled sharply, then sat down on a bench next to the building.

'What happens to us every time we don't see each other for a while?' you asked as you sat next to him, 'we always seem fine until-,' you stopped talking when you suddenly realised that every time you worked with Masema, Sihtric seemed to pull away from you.

'Masema,' Sihtric confirmed as you thought of him.

'Look,' you sighed softly, 'whatever beef you have with that guy, you gotta sort that out. I work with him, Sihtric. It's just work and you, out of all people, should understand that.'

'I know, but I just… I don't want you to work with him.'

'But why?' you scoffed, 'it's my job. Our job. And I've worked with so many other people before-'

'But that was before I fell in love with you!' Sihtric suddenly blurted out, then immediately buried his face in his trembling hands.

You stared at Sihtric as the street lights lit you both up from above, and you were speechless, the only sound being heard was the muffled music of the party inside the building, along with Sihtric's unsteady breathing. He had just confessed his feelings for you and it had numbed you for a moment. You watched him as he seemed to argue with himself in silence while he refused to look at you, until you felt yourself snap out of your shocked state again and took his face in your hands.

'Sihtric, talk to me,' you said with care, 'what is going on with you?'

'I'm just scared,' he muttered.

'Of what?'

'Of… of love,' he confessed, then finally looked up at you, 'I want you to be mine but I can't… I can't ask that from you.'

'Why not?'

'Because I wouldn't want you to work with anyone else anymore if you'd be mine. And I can't demand you to only work with me…'

You sighed and took his shaky hands, 'Sihtric… if you think I would have a problem with just working with you, then you're wrong. I don't see a problem here, at all. I just need to make content, and the studio doesn't care with who I create stuff or how, as long as I provide them with enough of it. And you know that too. And I… I'm in love with you too,' you half whispered.

'You're in love with me?' he asked with a glimmer of hope in his half lit eyes,

'Yes,' you said, suddenly feeling shy as you began to pull a thread on your skirt, 'and this problem with Masema… I don't get it. I mean the reason I like working with him is because he looks like you. And you should know that every time I'm with him, it's you I think of. And I turned down so many offers after you and I made that movie, and Masema was the only guy I continued to work with beside you, because it was easy. And I won't lie, that night we last texted, when I had to stay over at his place because of the weather, I did have sex with him while we weren't filming. But Masema is no threat, Sihtric, he's the only guy I can work with because his looks remind me of you. Trust me, he is nothing like you and I could never be in love with him, he's just a colleague,' you said as you leaned your forehead against his again, 'it's you, Sihtric. It's really only you. But you keep disappearing and I just can't read you.'

'I just need you to be mine,' Sihtric breathed as he held your face, 'I'm sorry I disappeared like that. I hoped that if I would distance myself from you, I would be able to get over you. But I can't. I need to… to have you. But if I can't have you, then I just can't be near you,' he struggled with his last words.

'But I want to be yours,' you whispered as your lips touched, 'I do. I want to have you too.'

'You've had me all this time already,' Sihtric whispered and then gave in to the temptation of kissing you again.

And you drowned in his kiss as you trailed your hands down his chest, grabbing his unbuttoned flannel and lightly tugging it as the kiss deepened.

'So… are you my boyfriend now?' you smiled in between kisses.

'I'd love to,' Sihtric hummed, then kissed you again.

'Well, can I have this flannel then, if you're my boyfriend?' you asked with a cheeky grin.

'You can have anything, kitten,' Sihtric smiled against your lips before he kissed you deeply again, until you were both suddenly spooked by the sound of a door slamming shut nearby.

You looked back over your shoulder to find Masema had left the venue and was lighting a cigarette in the parking lot, only a few paces away from you, dressed in black cargo jeans and a white blouse, which was barely buttoned up. It took him a few seconds before he turned and noticed you and Sihtric sitting on the bench, to which he then chuckled.

'Oh, shit,' Masema said with his soft voice while he smiled amused, 'sorry if I interrupted something, go on,' he motioned vaguely with his hand.

'It's fine,' you said and gave Sihtric a look that told him he should ignore the other man, but you already knew something was stirring inside of him as his eyes were locked on his doppelgänger.

'See something you like, handsome?' Masema taunted and took a drag of his cigarette.

'Top-knot piece of shit,' Sihtric huffed.

'Sihtric!' you slapped his chest, 'what was that for?!'

Masema laughed at Sihtric's anger and shook his head, 'Jealous I fucked your girl, huh?'

'Masema!' you snapped, 'that's really fucking uncalled for too, you know?'

And before you could do anything else, Sihtric had already jumped up and wrapped his fist around Masema's throat as he had him pushed up against the wall.

'I'll rip your fucking throat out,' Sihtric hissed.

'Gotta squeeze a little harder for me to enjoy it, pretty boy,' Masema grinned and winked.

'Stop it you two!' you yelled as you tried to get inbetween them, 'whatever the fuck it is you guys got going on, solve it! Goddamn child-like behaviour. We're adults here! In an adult industry! Just… god, I don't know, kiss it out or something!'

'I'd rather fuck it out,' Masema said with a sly smile as he looked at Sihtric.

'What?' Sihtric asked, clearly confused, 'fuck me?'

'Not you, handsome,' Masema rolled his eyes and slapped Sihtric's hand off him, 'I meant her,' he looked at you and then back at Sihtric, 'we could fuck her both, you know?'

'Jesus fucking Christ,' you sighed, 'is that what it takes? Will that calm you two idiots down?'

'What,' Masema snorted, 'you're up for it?'

'You even have to ask?' you threw your hands up and then looked at Sihtric, 'and you?'

'I… I'm not sure,' Sihtric said cautiously, 'I hadn't really thought of that before.'

There was an awkward silence while your eyes all darted between each other for a long minute, and then suddenly the door swung open again.

'Oh, here are you all,' Osferth chuckled, to which you all glared at him, 'hey, I had this idea for a movie with the three-'

'Osferth,' Sihtric sighed, not listening, 'not now.'

'But-'

'Not now!' Masema snarled, and the poor scriptwriter quickly disappeared inside the venue again. 'Well, let me know when you two figure it out,' Masema shrugged and flicked away his cigarette before he turned on his heels.

'Wait,' Sihtric said quickly, to which Masema stopped and turned, 'when?'

What?' Masema asked.

'When should we… you know,' Sihtric gestured awkwardly with his hands to nothing in particular.

'Now?' Masema shrugged and looked at you.

'Now?!' Sihtric half yelled, and he then looked at you too, 'now?' he asked.

'Now,' you said curtly, 'if that will fix this whole mess, then we do this now.'

'Now, handsome,' Masema winked and followed you back inside, after which Sihtric was fast to follow too.

You held Sihtric's hand as you pulled him through the warm crowd, Masema following close behind. Masema had told you the public toilet at the venue was actually very clean, and would probably be the best place 'to get freaky,' according to him. You stopped in the middle of the crowded dance floor and turned to Sihtric, bringing your lips to his ear as the music was almost deafening.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' you asked.

Sihtric watched you sloppily kiss Masema, with a mixture of jealousy and excitement, feeling his cock twitch in his tight jeans at the sight of you. And you deepened your kiss with Masema upon feeling Sihtric's arousal press against your stomach, knowing Sihtric was enjoying it as much as you were. And as was Masema, because you felt his hard cock press against your ass, and his eyes were dazed once he broke the kiss and released your throat, only to grab Sihtric's hand and place it there and he helped apply some pressure.

'Yeah,' Sihtric said, and he gave you a reassuring smile.

He then placed his hands on your hips and pulled you against his body, suddenly deciding to dance with you after the beat had dropped, before continuing to the toilets. Masema circled around you both for a few long seconds before he moved up behind you and placed his hands on your thighs, pressing his body against yours as you all moved in sync to the music while the green and blue laser lights flickered rhythmically above and around you. You smiled at Sihtric before you kissed him, and then laughed when Masema demanded your attention by wrapping his hand around your throat and pulling you away from your new boyfriend. Sihtric watched as your hands were still on his shoulders while you turned your face to meet Masema's, and then kissed him while he held your throat pleasantly tight while Sihtric's hands had never left your hips.

'She likes that,' Masema half barked over the music as Sihtric had his hand around your throat, 'kiss her.'

Sihtric would've kissed you without Masema's order, but it spurred him on regardless and he pulled you closer by your neck, crashing his lips onto yours in a needy and passionate kiss. Masema watched and shoved his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and he smirked at the discovery that you weren't wearing any panties. You continued to dance in between the two men, their bodies pressed against yours and their hands on your waist with their lips on your neck. You all grew more needy with each passing second, until the urge to feel each other became unbearable and you broke away from Sihtric and Masema, taking them both by the hand and leading them further through the crowd and into the restroom.

Sihtric was quick to check if the toilet stalls were empty and he gave Masema a curt nod as confirmation, to which the latter responded by locking the public door. Sihtric took your hands and pulled you towards him to kiss you deeply, while Masema closed in from behind and slid his fingers in your hair. He gave you a firm tug, pulling your lips away from Sihtric in order to capture you in a kiss himself again.

Both men glared at each other with a certain jealousy and passion as you dropped down to your knees, rubbing your palms over their hard bulge while you looked up at them.

'We should film this,' Masema murmured, 'do you know how much money we could make?'

You and Sihtric agreed, and Masema was quick to take out his phone and placed it on the large sink for a good and steady view. Your mouth watered at the thought of sucking both men off, but Sihtric took your hands to stop you when you tried to unbutton his jeans.

'No. Get up,' he said quietly, 'I'm not letting you do that on this floor.'

Sihtric helped you back up your feet and Masema was fast to grab your wrist, pulling you towards him to kiss you once more while he moved his free hand under your skirt again, and he pushed the fabric up. He then placed one hand on the back of Sihtric's neck and pulled him closer too, their lips crashing into a sudden steamy kiss that had both men dig their fingers into each other's neck and biceps. The kiss was filled with envy, which soon turned into a brutal form of lust as they kissed until their lips felt bruised and they had left their fingerprints on each other's skin.

You watched them while you lowered your top and pulled your skirt further up, exposing yourself to them as a wordless invitation to be used by them however they pleased. Masema was the first to slide his fingers across your wet folds from behind, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he teased you with feather light touches, before sinking two of his digits inside you while Sihtric lowered his jeans in front of you.

'Please him,' Masema ordered you quietly, his voice raspy in your ear.

You did as you were told, working Sihtric with your hand while you felt Masema's fingers slide in and out of you with a head spinning pace. Sihtric kissed you, and you moaned into each other's mouth at the pleasure you both received while Masema leaned the side of his face against yours and placed his free hand on Sihtric's shoulder. You were pressed between both men again, just like you had been on the dance floor, but this time the lust for each other was even stronger, and knowing it was being filmed made you all grab and pull at each other even more.

You whined when you lost the feeling of Masema's fingers inside of you as he started to take off his cargo jeans. You took Sihtric's shirt off in the meantime and kissed his neck, gradually trailing your lips down his body until you were bent over completely and had levelled your mouth with his leaking cock. Sihtric threw his head back with a moan once you wrapped your lips around him, and he placed his hands lightly on the back of your head as you pleased him in the sloppiest way possible. You then felt Masema's hands firmly rubbing your buttocks before he gave you a hard spank, your moan muffled because your mouth was full, and he grabbed your hips while he teased you with his cock before sheathing inside you.

This was just a job for Masema right now, so he wasted no time to fuck you hard and fast while you sucked off Sihtric, causing you to gag on your boyfriend's cock with each hard thrust until your knees weakened. Sihtric backed away after a short while and took your face, making sure you were okay and he grabbed Masema's wrist, signalling him to slow down.

'I'm good,' you breathed with a dazed smile, your warm cheeks stained with tears and smudged mascara, 'don't stop,' you then said as you looked back at Masema.

Masema smiled and licked his lips, flexing his arms as he wrapped them both tightly around your waist to keep you up on your trembling legs. Sihtric gently pushed you back up against Masema's chest, then lined himself up with your entrance while the other man was still inside you. You allowed your head to fall back on Masema's shoulder as Sihtric entered you carefully while Masema had stilled, and both men groaned softly when they felt the warmth and wetness of your pussy as they were inside of you.

Masema wrapped his hand around your throat and placed the other on Sihtric's waist, while Sihtric had one hand on your hip and the other on Masema's shoulder, and you had one arm wrapped around Sihtric's neck as your fingers dug into Masema's thigh when they both started to thrust into you. Gentle at first, but faster and deeper once you were fully adjusted to them, and soon the moans of you all together echoed as they bounced off the white walls.

Sweat trickled down Sihtric's forehead while you felt Masema's damp arm pressed against your body, and your hair stuck to your hot and glistening face. Both men became rougher and louder, both wanting to claim you, even though Masema knew you belonged to Sihtric and had no desire to own you. He just wanted to prove to Sihtric he could fuck you just as good. And you enjoyed them both while you became a moaning and whining mess. Begging for more and demanding both of them to kiss you at every possible chance until you nearly screamed it out as you reached your climax, both Masema and Sihtric following shortly after, spilling their warmth inside you.

Masema was the first to pull out and took care of himself after he had stopped recording, while Sihtric tended to you first and helped you clean up the inside of your thighs, after that he wiped the tear and mascara stains off your face and kissed the tip of your nose. You gave him a tired smile and, once both dressed again, you wrapped your arms around each other as you kissed slowly and softly.

Masema made way to the door as you made out with Sihtric, but before he unlocked it to leave he turned to give your boyfriend a clear warning.

'If you ever hurt her,' Masema said calmly but a threatening tone lingered, 'I will cut your fucking hands off.'

'I would never hurt her,' Sihtric reassured him, then looked at you and kissed your forehead, 'never.'

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama

@lexeirikrleif @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a

@verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777

@urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50

@hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305

@carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @reidsbookstore @thenameswinter99

@deathbluestar113 @ladyinred2248 @zaldritzosrose @maryelle-cats @penumbrie

@solinarimoon @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @yungpoetfics @legitalicat @stupiddarkkside @volklana @sleepjam

if you want to be added to/deleted from the taglist, message me 🖤

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric fic #masema x reader #masema x you #masema #masema dagar #tlk fic #modern!sihtric #modern!masema

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avelera · 6 months

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Avelera's Dreamling Fic Status Update:

Keeping Sanctuary (subscribe for updates here) - Giving Sanctuary Sequel follows Dream and Hob from the events of the altered meeting in 1689 up to the modern era. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1689 meeting?) Current word count: ~7,000 words across several chapters. Realistic progress update: 1/10 complete total, Ch. 1 is about 1/5 complete.

(The rest are below the cut!)

Come live with me and be my love - Dream and Hob fall in love during the Regency Era when Dream loses a bet to Desire. Shenanigans ensue. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1789 meeting?) Ch. 16 is at 2,500 words, probably about 1/3 done. Current plan is to wrap up Part 1 in the next few chapters then create a part 2 which finishes out their "1 year of marriage" on a month by month basis instead of following them day to day like Part 1 done. Probably won't be a separate fic though, just a change of format.

This Rough Magic - My take on "Hob rescues Dream from Burgess" with a twist that Hob ends up on Burgess's radar himself when he picked up some occult magic skills in the hopes of contacting Dream after 1889 and apologizing. Now he has to pretend to be friends with Burgess in order to get them both out of there, because Burgess thinks Hob can help force Dream to give him immortality. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1889 meeting?) Ch. 9 is about 800 words in. Story is still very much in progress I just have a lot of WIPs, as you can see.

Joke's On You (I'm Into That) - The 1589 meeting goes very different when Hob proposes to Dream, who is so offended that he just can't let the matter go. A very angry, very horny competition kicks off between them. (Aka, what if they hooked up in 1589 when they were both at their absolute worst as people?) I have literally 40,000 words written for the rest of this fic. The problem is, there's big gaps in that first draft I have to fill in and scenes that need to be added. This might be my favorite WIP but it's also the hardest to write with all the smut scenes so it'll arrive whenever I can manage, I'm afraid.

Banana Daiquiris Ch. 2 - Comic-canon compliant (mostly) - Dream fakes his death to go on a vacation with Hob and Destruction. They end up in Tahiti. Destruction plays matchmaker. Hob doesn't know whether to thank Destruction or strangle him. Current word count 6,000 words. I've been playing around with adding on to this fic for ages. One of these days, I'll pull it all together.

Great Triumphs and Tragedies - aka, "Dream Accidentally Cursed Hob with a Normal Life" Fic - Dream learns that from 1689 on, Hob's life has been safe. Too safe. Improbably safe. Nothing bad or extraordinary or even terribly special has happened to him since Dream began to consider Hob his friend. He knows this because during his imprisonment, Hob's life became exciting again and suddenly went back to normal the day Dream was freed. Hob is not convinced that Dream is the reason for this, Dream disagrees. They talk about it. And fight about it. And some things that they've probably needed to talk about for a long time finally get said. (aka, sometimes the author just needs to write their weird headcanon into a 20,000 word fic that's almost entirely dialogue). Current word count: 19,000 words and about 80-90% finished, 3 of 4 chapters written. I'm hoping that posting what I've got will help push me through the final stretch. Real life interrupted for a bit though.

And for fics that haven't been posted anywhere yet (you can subscribe on my Ao3 author page for alerts about them):

Hob Amesia Fic - Dream and Hob are dating officially now in the 21st century when Hob gets hit with what seems to be a memory loss curse, shaving off 100 years of his life each day until Dream finds a cure. This effectively grants Dream a walk down memory lane as he is reacquainted with the Hob of each era and, in the process, learns how much longer Hob cared for him than Dream ever realized. Current word count: 40,000 words. Currently writing 1489 (1889-1589 are done) and re-writing the opening. It genuinely kills me not to have this one posted lol.

"Fairy God Marlowe" - 1589 fixit fic where Hob and Kit Marlowe strike up a conversation while Dream and Shaxberd are talking. Hob and Marlowe talk about plays, and faith, and salvation, and queer love, and what it means to live forever. Hob gets a second chance at a first impression. Current word count: ~5,000 words. Sadly, it's all dialogue in script format. I'd need to convert it into prose to publish which would be a slog. So it's a bit shelved until I find the energy to do so. No, I will not post it in script format, I'm allergic to the thought.

I've got a few other concepts kicking around, but these are the ones that actually have (*does a quick calculation*) over 100,000 words written that I haven't had the chance to post yet?? And it's driving me insane????

Anyway, I should probably pin this post for those curious lol. Feel free to ask me any follow-up questions, I love talking about WIPs even as they ruin my life!

#dreamling #maggie's writing progress #dreamling fic update #1689 fic #1589 fic #arranged marriage au dreamling

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lgbtlunaverse · 6 months

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3zun data analysis

I was wondering how much the different 2-out-of-3zun ship fics were actually focused specifically on them, rather than having them feature as side pairings, so I did a little mini-experiment. Beginning by searching for otp:true in each tag

(This doesn't give you the real number of fics were the pairing is the main focus, for the record. The other tagged ships might've been a side pairing, and the one we're filtering for the main one, and otp:true also filters out platonic relationships. So, for example, a nielan fic that has the nie brothers tagged as a platonic bond will also be filtered out. But since it does that for all ships you can still get a good idea how likely each one of them is to be the center in their fics)

My hypothesis was that Nielan would be the least likely, as they're frequently tagged as a side pairing in wangxian focused fics, with xiyao and nieyao having comparable results.

Nielan, as I type this, have 2154 works, of which only 627 have only nielan tagged. That is 29% of all nielan fics.

Next up is xiyao, who have 4534 works, of which 2195 only have xiyao tagged, a significanly higher 48%

And lastly nieyao, who have the least works in total with 1749, but have 683 works only tagged nieyao, more than nielan despite having less fics overall. Ending up at 39% of all nieyao fics

So I was right about nielan being lower, but turned out to be wrong in my hypothesis that nieyao and xiyao would end up with comparable results!

One possible factor is that nieyao, being a smaller ship, is more affected by those big collection-type fics that have a dozen pairings tagged for every chapter, as well as 3zun fics that have the individual pairings tagged. (Which we'll get to later!!)

Also, Huaisang - typical of him - butts into nieyao more. 5% of nieyao fics have the Nie brothers tagged platonically, and almost exactly the same number are tagged sangyao. Compare that to lan xichen's much more reserved little brother who really doesn't want to be a part of this, as only 3% of xiyao fics are tagged with the twin jades, and zhanyao... isn't much of a thing.

I'd anticipated both of these, but I'd also expected that xiyao, being a bigger ship, would be a less controversial background pairing for wangxian, who - let's be real - are the main players within the mdzs fic space so they massively impact the numbers. I know xiyao are certainly not without controversy (god no) and the go-to side pairings are xicheng and xuanli instead but like... compared to nieyao, surely they're the normie pick? And, well, 25% of xiyao fics are tagged wangxian compared to only 20% of nieyao fics so that is somewhat true, but not as much as I'd thought. (For comparison, 43% of nielan fics are tagged wangxian)

Now let's look at 3zun overall. Of the 1127 3zun fics, 277 are exclusively tagged 3zun. That's only 25%

But that doesn't feel right. After all, a lot of 3zun fics also tag the individual pairings. And excluding them like we did with the 2-out-of-3zun ships feels wrong. You'd categorize a fic tagged with both nieyao and 3zun as a 3zun fic, wouldn't you?

So I manually excluded each non 2-out-of-3zun pair. This took a bit, but you end up with 538 3zun fics which are either not tagged with any side pairing, or only tagged with a ship already contained in 3zun. That is 48% of all 3zun fics, similar to xiyao.

So there you have it! Xiyao is the most independent of the subfandoms, having almost half of its works centered solely around xiyao (and even more primarily focused on xiyao. As I said, otp:true also filters out works that still focus on xiyao but have other background relationships) with the overall 3zun fandom having a similar focus, followed by nieyao, and then nielan.

edit: this has a part 2 now

#mdzs #cql #the untamed #nie mingjue #meng yao #jin guangyao #lan xichen #3zun #nielan #xiyao #nieyao #fandom research #fandom statistics #<- i have a feeling i might start doing more of this so let's create the tags for orgizational purposes #nielanists it's time to rise up and free nielan from the bruce banner phenomenon!

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 5 months

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The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 4

ANOTHER CHAPTER IN LESS THAN A WEEK. BRING ON THE GRINDDDDDD. I will warn that my motiviation for each of my fics comes in waves, so you'll probably get chapters in random chunks ngl. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: Period-typical sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency, Swearing, Mentions of murder. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 >

PART 1: Chapter 4

Unconditional Violence.

Bambsquabbled (Definition): A 19th Century American slang word essentially meaning stupefied or confounded. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 18th December, 1929.

You had expected the additional Tuesday Mr LeBlanc had given you off to prepare yourself for the radio company to consist of you sleeping in until 11am. But dreams are short lived when you have an aunt who insists the ass-crack of dawn is prime time for everything.

You guessed it was fun to climb onto the roof of your relative’s vast home to collect the crystals you had both put out under the full moon, before the energy given to them was whisked away by the rays of the early golden hour. But when nerves settle in like the green spirals of nausea the night before, sleep takes the hand of another, leaving you to lay there with your over-active mind as it drags you through every possibility and event that could end up with you looking like an idiot in front of your new colleagues, or worse. Can’t think of much worse. But the universe will find a way.

It always does.

When Wednesday finally rolled around, it was barely 6am and you already couldn’t wait for it to be over. Your cousins had found you curled up on the bench swing, having dragged your duvet outside as you balled yourself up like a worm, sipping on the iced tea Agnes had bought you the day before in an attempt to settle your nerves. It did. A little.

And now here you were, the first half of your new workday having gone as smoothly as your awkward self could do.

Ethel, who’s desk was closest to yours, had dubbed you the quiet one after spending an hour running her mouth at you with barely a break for you to chime in. You had also already created quite a commotion on the third floor, a few people intrigued by the new ‘foreigner’. Well – as foreign as you can get when you’re from another English-speaking country, in the biggest cultural melting pot of a city had ever seen in your rural life. But they found you interesting enough.

The oddest thing you had experienced that day, however, was a strange request from your new boss – Mr Durham himself.

“I don’t suppose you know how to pull off a local accent?” he had asked when showing you the phone on your desk.

All you could do was blink at him. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured to the phone. “Since you’re my assistant, you’re gonna be filtering through the calls I get before passing them onto me. Now, there might be an issue if someone calls expecting to hear me, but instead find themselves speaking to a British girl on the other end. Some can be impatient and might end up putting the phone down before you explain.”

Memories of that one very unpleasant phone call flooded your mind. “Even if I answer: ‘Hello W.A.D Radio, this is Mr Durham’s assistant speaking’??” you replied monotonously.

“You’d be surprised.” He sighed. “But do you know how to anyway?”

Frowning, you recalled your time in the cities further in the North. “I guess..? A girl I rented a room from in New York insisted on teaching me for when we went into town, but I struggle to see how it’s important?”

The man put his hands together, pointing them at you in a prayer motion. “Just.. try it out? Talk like your colleagues when you see them, to see if you can get a hang of it – I’m sure they’ll be happy to help. Please?”

You gave him a wavering look, but sighed, finally giving in. “Fine, but they can’t make fun of me.”

He beamed, patting you on the back in satisfaction. “I’m sure they won’t! I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

And with that, you sat in your new chair, trying to pointedly ignore the sign at the other end of the room that pointed you to the fifth floor, and began your attempt to settle in.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 8th January, 1930.

There wasn’t much to celebrate when the new decade rolled around. Gone were the so-called ‘Roaring Twenties’, when you would join your parents at the parties and balls they were invited to – when it was acceptable, of course; those higher up in the class hierarchy still grasped to the dwindling standard that children should be seen, not heard. The year you turned eighteen ended up being quite interesting, when the older women who had turned snooty at the sight of your teenage self wandering around their stately homes, tried to attempt a 180°, as they congratulated you reaching adulthood with strained smiles. But you paid them no mind, too busy staring at the paintings or statues that lined their corridors – a stark contrast to the more barren and plain wallpaper that coated the walls you grew up in.

But now that was far behind you, the English garden parties in the spring and summer that you adored so much were now a mere echo in the distances of your mind. The noises of tiny forks clinking on fine china as the little birds twittered in the trees now replaced by the sputtering and groaning of automobiles as you gripped the pole of the tram, your arms tight against your chest as you tried your best to not let the swaying of the vehicle toss you about into the crowd of packed bodies around you.

Making sure the scarf was tucked safely around your neck, you grasped the small briefcase in your hand – mentally preparing yourself for you first day back at the radio station after the new year. Unfortunately for Mr Durham, a small hurricane had passed over during the holiday, and radio stations across the city were temporarily silenced as their mechanics desperately attempted to repair the damaged towers. And also unfortunately for you, only the hosts were offered a couple days off as things got back up and running, though some still showed to prepare for their shows; you, on the other hand, were still expected to show up like any other day.

So here you were, pushing open the (now familiar) double doors, giving a small wave to the receptionist, who’s name turned out to be Diana, and the woman barely raised her hand in response as she continued to tiredly shift through the concerningly large stack of papers on her desk.

You were just about to climb the wide staircase when you heard her call your name (something you were very surprised she knew, considering her tendency to ‘accidentally’ throw paperwork in the bin on the daily), and your wedge heels clacked against the tile flooring as you stumbled slightly, turning to face her as her nasally voice echoed around the large lobby.

“It’s best you stay in the shadows today.” She warned cryptically. “Trouble’s in, and the mechanic’s not happy about the damages – Durham’s getting the brunt of it, but you’ll end up in the crossfire unless you hide out during breaktimes.”

All you could do for a moment was stand and stare, a million thoughts running through your mind. Mostly about who ‘Trouble’ was, and why Diana thought you couldn’t handle the guy and the other mechanic. You did handle the radio man at the repair shop after all, and speaking of the radio, you were quite proud to say you had finished the it in time for Christmas, and had shipped it off with a very passive-aggressive note that hinted for the man to basically never return. Luckily, Mr Boudreaux hadn’t replied to any of your letters since you had begrudgingly accepted the object, but you had suspected he had called the shop once or twice, and you had left Mr LeBlanc to deal with it, mostly because he was quite terrified you would call another customer every name under the sun the second they tried to give you trouble.

Glancing back and forth between Diana and the stairs, you mumbled a slow “Oookay…” before nodding your head and turning on your heel to hurry up the steps. Reaching the third floor, you didn’t stop in your path as you neared your desk, instead dropping your briefcase onto the wooden surface as you dashed by, striding towards the door that had the golden plaque engraved with ‘Mr B. Durham’ onto it. Grasping the handle, you turned the knob, swinging the door open, only to stop in your tracks as you were met with a very empty office.

You frowned. It must be really bad if your boss was no where to be seen. Whipping around, you scanned the main room for him, but only saw a few of your colleagues, the rest still yet to arrive – you were normally expected to be in early to handle Durham’s work as soon as he began.

Throwing your coat and scarf on your chair, you strode back towards the stairs, readjusting the suspenders of your wide-legged trousers as you practically jogged up the steps, and ended up rolling the sleeves of your loose blouse to your elbows as you tried to catch your breath.

On the fourth floor, you spent a couple minutes checking all of your boss’s usual haunts or hiding places, even going as far as interrogating a couple of the workers there for his whereabouts. It wasn’t until some blonde guy that came wandering down the steps from the fifth floor that you got your answer, the man looking up to take in your slightly dishevelled and feral appearance with wide eyes as he stammered out that he was in one of the radio booths. To his further horror, you patted him on the cheek with a thanks as you rounded him, ready to take another flight of stairs to reach your – apparently – floundering boss.

Ignoring the embarrassed sputtering of the man behind you, you eye the sign nailed to the wall, the painted hand pointing upwards with a very bold ‘FIFTH FLOOR’ next to it.

“Don’t go up there until I say you’re ready, okay?” Mr Durham’s words echoed through your mind.

Buuuuut, he did say he wanted to discuss the stuff you brought in your briefcase ASAP.

Yea that’ll be your excuse. You can deal with his complaining later.

Reaching your heel-clad foot out, you took the first step, almost like you were expecting an axe to come swing down and impale your forehead. But when nothing happened, you shrugged, and simply continued up.

Recalling the path your boss had taken you on during the initial tour, you managed to find the dreaded corridor that supposedly housed your greatest nightmare.

Extroverted people.

Yeesh.

At that thought, you did consider turning around, but your urge to drag your boss’s arse back downstairs drowned that thought out, and you carried on.

Surprisingly, it was quiet, but at the same time not so much when you remembered that most of them were plating their somewhat wealthy behinds on their armchairs at home as the rest tried to fix the issues of the storm.

Reaching one of the lit rooms, you heard raised voices.

“–really expect me to know? –” “– supposed to be on in an hour! How is that –”

Cautiously, you peeked around the corner to try and witness the potential fiasco. And what a fiasco it was.

Wires, cables, and any other random parts that were used for radio technology were strewn across desks, tables and even the floor. Amongst these were two men, and there was only one you recognised.

Just like you had seen him every day for the past month, Mr Durham was stood in his washed-out blue suit and concerningly shiny shoes, and at this point one hand was on his hip, whilst the other rubbed tiredly at his face as whom you assume was the mechanic, was blabbering the poor man’s ear off as he ranted on and on about random parts and problems and he gestured frantically at said random parts and problems. Wait – nevermind, you recognised one and a half.

The man from across the street was here, with his back to you. Again. For fuck’s sake.

This time he was back in the seat you first saw him in, this time with a few strands of dark-brown hair out of place, curling slightly as if to rebel against the intense styling he had put it through. Peeking your head out slightly further, you managed to get a good look at him.

Well for one, he was a triangle. Stupidly broad shoulders that narrowed into a stupidly small waist (triangle), with lanky legs long enough that you could probably chop them off and fashion them into skis. Despite his face not revealed, you could see the semi-light tan on his hands, that were busy turning knobs and dials as he listened in to whatever was coming through the headphones on his head. He was dressed to impress, to say the least, in smart, dark-grey trousers, who’s ironed out edges looked as if they could slice through skin. His high collared cream shirt was tucked away under a relatively tight looking reddish-tan waistcoat, and to top it all off, you could see the back of the black ribbon that was most likely tied in a stupidly even bow.

You didn’t want this guy to sense your staring, so you opted to look back at the other two men who were still chuntering on about god knows what. Stepping into the light that flooded through the glass, you wave slightly to try and get your boss’s attention. A couple seconds passed, and you watched as the mechanic kept glancing at you and Mr Durham, until eventually he nudged the other man on the shoulder, pointing you out.

Turning his head, Mr Durham’s eyes met with yours, and you raised your hand with a questionable thumbs up to see if all was good, only to watch in slight confusion as his eyes widened, and he whipped his head rapidly between you and the faceless man sat at his desk, before marching over to the door and pulling it open a crack, sticking his head out.

“Hey uh,” he half-whispered, surprisingly nervous at your presence. “what’re you doing here?”

You lowered your voice to match his. “You said to come find you as soon as possible this morning, you know, to go over those statistics from that other station?”

Realisation dawned on the man’s face, and he reached up to drag his hand down the side of it. “Shit I forgot,” he cursed, and glanced over his shoulder before facing you again. “I’ll – uh… I’ll be down as soon as I get this sorted. Marty’s givin’ me a run for his money right now and the second Al takes his headphones off I’m gonna feel like I’m entering an early grave.”

Surprised, you eyed the man sat at the desk, who looked far too calm to be threatening anyone right now. “Ok… I guess it can wait. I’ll bring you some coffee up!” you chirped, and Durham went to call out that it wasn’t necessary, but faltered with a frown as he realised you were already halfway down the corridor.

Balancing the tray of cups and steaming jug the best you could, you reached the final step, retracing your route to the radio booth that your boss was probably getting murdered in. Walking up, you waited patiently until Mr Durham noticed you, and watched as he reluctantly trudged over to open the door.

Taking your first step in, you were hit with the very potent smell of strong black coffee, as if someone had some brewing every day, and you figured you had made the right call of fetching the same beverage as you placed the tray down on one of the tables.

The mechanic was still going off on one, and you watched out of the corner of your eye as you slowly began pouring the coffee into the cups, listening to the greasy-looking man speak.

“– there’s literally no reason that I can find that’s causing the local outage!” he spouted at your frowning boss. “The boys have already fixed the aerial, and David’s currently on-air and that’s working perfectly fine, so it has to be something in this room!”

During the man’s tirade, you noticed the rustling of papers, and looked over to see the faceless man again, still at his desk, but his hands were fiddling with no purpose, and his head was turned to the left slightly, showing his high cheekbone and the edge of his thin circular glasses.

Looked like someone else was listening in too.

Biting your smile down, you turned back towards the cups in your hand, only to have a glint of light pierce the corner of your eye, and you looked in the opposite direction to a large wooden box, with one of the panels removed, displaying the endless wires and springs that coiled and wound in every direction. But you weren’t looking at that, you were instead looking at the screwdriver that was very prominently glinting in the shine of the ceiling light. This must be the painstakingly obvious problem that the mechanic had painstakingly missed.

Giving a quick glance over at the men, you waited until they faced away, scrapping about the wire pile on the floor, and you reached for the wooden teaspoon on your tray, and inched towards the box. Knowing wood doesn’t normally conduct electricity, you raised your hand, testing it anyway against the hanging wires to see if they were live. Seemingly not, you stuck your hand further in, and began nudging at the tool, slowly loosening the wires around it as you dragged it along the bottom of the box.

When they had deemed your silence as suspicious, the mechanic and Durham turned round, only to see you elbow deep in some very expensive equipment.

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA!” the mechanic cried as he rushed over. “The hell are you doin’??”

Instead of jerking your arm back out and apologising to the man who was slowly turning purple, you gave the screwdriver one last flick, and the three of you watched as it dropped over the edge and fell to the floor with a clatter. Moments of silence passed as you all stared at it, until you decided to explain.

“It was tangled in the wires, which would’ve prevented the electricity flow,” you said plainly. “Plus, if you had tried to power it all up, it could’ve set the place on fire.”

All the mechanic could do was stare down at the tool, but Mr Durham had decided to approach, and bent down to pick up the tool.

“Nice one.” He complimented, turning the object in his hands. Though the warm smile he had put on for you quickly vanished, as his eyes set upon the name engraved on the wooden handle. He pointed at it. “This has your name on it Marty.” He said lowly, his blue eyes turning dark as he regarded the paling man with a look of thunder.

Seeing the outcome, you gestured nervously to the beverages on the table. “Coffee’s there, Mr Durham, I’ll see you downstairs.”

Just as you walked around him, he called your name. “Take ten minutes to yourself and grab some tea, whilst I deal with Marty here.”

Nodding, you curtly took your leave, swinging the door open as you power-walked out, failing to see the sharp pair of eyes following you from where they were sat at the desk.

You found the break room housed several curiosities that you were yet to explore in America. Apart from the atrocious fact that the tea station lacked the Yorkshire brand, you found yourself poking at what they called a teabag. Yes, surprise, surprise, the Americans invented something tea related before England or even China did, but you had to admit it was rather useful in helping you not gag at the slimy tea leaves that sat at the bottom of most of your beloved brews.

With the table to your right, you leant your hip against it, your back against the door as you rather noisily mixed the spoon around your large mug, making sure the sugar was dissolved properly before you went to strain the teabag. Lifting it carefully out of the boiling water, you gingerly held your other hand out below it to catch any stray drips from hitting the floor, scanning the room in front of you for a bin that you could chuck it into.

What you foolishly had failed to do however, was hear the footsteps that grew in volume from behind, and you hadn’t realised anything until a very uncomfortable prickle hit the side of your neck, as a very unwanted presence loomed over you. Though, that didn’t last long, as the presence decided to deafen you instead.

“So YOU’RE the new assistant!”

A banshee screech raised from your throat, the teabag flying through the air and onto the floor by your feet as you basically jumped three feet up. Instinctively, however, you didn’t realise what was happening until one elbow flew upwards, slamming into the nose of the man behind you, the other flying round to collide with his ribs. Teaspoon armed in hand, you spun around to face your assailant, only to step on the soggy teabag that was still on the floor, and you cried out again as you slipped and slammed into a very firm chest. Eyes screwed shut, you felt the two of you fall, though quickly broken by the table behind you.

Relieved that you were no longer falling, you swiftly blinked your eyes open, your dark brown ones meeting a pair of equally matching brown. Moments passed as you took in the scene in front of you, and you realised you finally had a face to put to the lanky man from earlier.

Said man was groaning as he rubbed at his nose, his lips twisted into a grimace as he checked for blood. What you noticed however, was the several poignant glances the man took to your right, and you followed, only to see you hand raised, teaspoon in hand, pointing down at him as if you had a machete, ready to stab the lights out of him.

A small gasp left your throat at the realisation, and you quickly pushed yourself off, pointedly ignoring the grunt the man let out as you knocked at his ribs. Taking several steps back, you distanced yourself from him. He had gotten close before, he wasn’t about to do so again.

You watched as he pushed himself up on his elbows, using the table as a support as he stood. To a disturbingly tall height might you add. Looks like you did just reach his nose after all.

“I’m uh,” you started as you eyed him, teaspoon machete still in hand, strangely, you instinctively used the southern accent you learnt – it was the one you used with strangers. “Sorry. I didn’t expect you to sneak up on me like that.” Reaching over, you snatched up a napkin, offering it to him. “Y’haven’t got anything…?”

Dark eyes flitting between you and the outstretched napkin offering, you watched as something seemed to switch in his demeanour, and a natural smile fell across his tan face as he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s quite alright.” He assured, and you blinked at his prominent transatlantic accent. “I figured that wasn’t the best way to say hello to a stranger!” he laughed as he smoothed down his crumpled waistcoat. Reaching his lanky arm out whilst tucking the other behind him, he offered his hand out in greeting. “The name’s Alastor, my dear. And who do I have the most entertaining pleasure to be speaking to?”

You stared at his hand, then flicked your eyes up to him, scanning his grinning face with vigour.

Where, oh where, had you heard that voice before?

Your silence seemed to confuse this Alastor guy, however, and his eyes darted around in confusion as you continued to stare. From what you could see, he had come to a very wrong conclusion about your silence, and leaned over at you slightly, bringing his face level with yours.

“Cat got your tongue, my darling?” His growing cheshire grin reminding you of two very similar people. “You clearly must find me that dashing if your this speechless, haha!” he chortled, the condescension rolling off him in waves.

Oh, you knew exactly where this guy was from.

Narrowing your eyes, you scrutinised him as you quietly muttered out a single word.

“Boudreaux.”

Alastor blinked, eyes darting around your face, before raising a hand to cup at his ear. “I hate to say but I didn’t quite catch that!” he exclaimed rather loudly.

You felt your brows begin to furrow, so you raise your voice slightly. “I said, Boudreaux.”

Oh you did it now. Sparkles seemed to glitter behind his chocolate eyes as he perked up with glee, straightening up to his full height. “So you do know me after all! I was starting to think you simply had nothing going on in that head of yours!” he simpered as he tilted his head to look down at you.

Despite his clear mocking, you remained quiet for a moment longer, until you couldn’t hold it anymore.

“…You work in a radio station.” You stated flatly.

Alastor looked around, acting as if he had just realised as such. “Yes I am quite aware!” he affirmed in an obvious tone. “Did you want an award for that observation?”

You had to refrain from gaping at this man’s audacity. “… Couldn’t you have just fixed it yourself?”

The man blinked at you. “Fixed what now?”

Oh, this was it. Stepping forward, you didn’t stop until you face was a hand-lengths away from his, and you watched with satisfaction as he shifted at your invasion of his space – talk about a hypocrite as someone who clearly loved to invade the space of others. Staring at the man dead in the eye, you fully dropped the southern accent, your Yorkshire one coming back through full force.

“Your mum’s radio.” You stated simply, raising your brows to regard him with a condescending look that matched his.

You had expected him to brush it off, laughing when he realised who you were. What you hadn’t expected for his pupils to blow wide, his eyes darkening as they narrowed, scrutinising your gaze with his own, and you suddenly felt a little uneasy.

“Oh,” he said lowly. “It’s you.”

Keeping your gaze levelled, you gripped the spoon harder in your hands. That is, until your name was called.

The two of you straightened up, you leaning to look around Alastor as he spun on the spot, the both of you facing Mr Durham, who was looking between the two of you rather nervously. He called your name again.

“C’mon.” he said, refusing to take his eyes off Alastor. “Let’s go over those papers you brought.”

Without a second thought, you darted for your mug of tea, grabbing it along with an almost empty bottle of milk to put in it as you strode around Alastor, feeling the hand of your boss as he put his arm around your shoulder as he quickly led you away, and the back of your head prickled, definitely feeling the sharp eyes on your retreating back this time around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ALASTOR'S HERE RAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Watch me disappear from the face of the earth for a week cuz of my executive dysfunction lmao (Blame my adhd not me she's a seperate entity at this point.)

I hope you've enjoyed what I've given you so far, see you soon for Chapter 5!!

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autumnshighlady · 8 months

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I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 19)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: Eris helps Nesta conquer her fear of fire

warnings: inner circle slander, MAJOR angst, Cassian hate

word count: 4.2k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: sorry for the short chapter (i mean it's still 4000+ words but its short for me lmao) but I'm already working on the next one but here's a Neris chapter! haven't updated this fic in too long, so I apologize. Enjoy and as always, tell me your thoughts and reactions!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18

read on ao3

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NESTA POV

Nesta gently stroked Athariel’s silver scales as the dragon snaked its head around her, vying for attention. The beast made a low cooing noise at her touch, and Nesta chuckled to herself. She remembered the mix of awe and fear she had felt upon seeing the dragons for the first time. Ancient and mythical beasts beyond her wildest imagination, in the flesh before her very eyes. And yet at this moment, Athariel was acting more like a puppy than a dragon.

“Some fearsome beast you are.” Nesta murmured as Athariel continued to purr lowly. She reached forward to scratch behind the dragon’s right horn, and Athariel responded by closing her eyes and pushing her head further into Nesta’s hand. “Spoiled creature.”

The sweet autumn breeze funnelled into the cave and stroked Nesta’s cheek. It was an unusually cold day. Even the thick wool layers did little to keep out the biting chill that seeped into Nesta’s bones. She shivered slightly, pressing closer to the dragon for warmth.

Eris had left about ten minutes ago to fetch something for today’s training session. As usual, he refused to elaborate, only giving Nesta a playful wink that he knew would send her blood steaming when she asked what he was going to fetch. Every few days, Eris dragged her to the dragon cave to train her magic. Even after her demonstration to Beron, Eris insisted they continue the practice. “Killing my father is going to take a lot more finesse than your display, my dear.” He had explained. “My father is not an idiot. He knows how to defend himself, you do not.”

As much as she hated admitting that she liked spending time with Eris, it pained Nesta to be away from you. Since the announcement of your engagement, you had been constantly pulled away by servants, planners, dress fitters, and courtiers in preparation. It broke her heart, seeing the life slowly drain out of your eyes with each passing day. She saw how you snuck desperate glances at her as you were shuffled off for wedding business, pleading for help through the bond. There was nothing that could compare to the pain of the helplessness she felt. Eris had sternly told her to keep it together, that she had a part to play and couldn’t interfere with your engagement yet. His father would be watching your every move, and if Nesta became too involved then everything would go to hell.

The thought of the two upcoming weddings made Nesta’s stomach churn. While she definitely got the better of Beron’s sons, there were still so many things about Eris that she couldn’t figure out. The Prince always had an angle to play, never revealing his next move until he was certain things would work out in his favour. Nesta could understand why he was helping her. Objectively, their marriage was a strong match. She had been raised by her mother for this exact role – a doting wife who appeased the males of the court, but one with a viper’s tongue who was able to hold her own and get exactly what she wanted. Eris would benefit from it too, having a Cauldron-made female at his side whose powers dwarfed any of those in his court.

But his angle with you was something Nesta couldn’t figure out. Helping you was a huge risk for him, one that placed both you and the Prince in danger. Throwing you out of the Autumn Court and delivering you back to Rhysand would have been the smart move for Eris, as it would have eased the tension between Autumn and Night after Nesta had slipped through Rhysand’s grasp. Helping you was a risk that Nesta couldn’t understand why Eris was so willing to take. She had tried probing him about it a few times, but he had always brushed her off.

“A penny for your thoughts?” Eris strode back into the cave, a bundle of sticks and wood in his arms. He dumped them on the floor, the clattering noise echoing throughout the dragon’s den. Morgoth’s massive dark head appeared from the shadows, emitting a low rumbling noise that shook Nesta’s bones as he sniffed his master. Eris chuckled, saying something to the dragon in a language Nesta did not understand as he stroked its nose.

She frowned at the pile of wood on the floor. “You went out to collect sticks?”

Eris smirked. “Brilliant observation, Nesta Archeron. You never cease to amaze me.”

She shot him a withering glare. “Prick. What do sticks have to do with training my magic?”

“Because it’s hard to train fire-related magic when you’re utterly terrified of fire itself.”

Nesta froze, panic rising in her chest. Athariel nudged her now-still hand, as if sensing her anxiety. But she kept a straight face and said evenly, “I do not know what you mean.”

Eris scoffed, bending down and arranging the sticks. “Oh, please. You flinch every time the hearth is lit. You look like you’ve seen a ghost whenever I use my magic around you. Deny it all you want, but I see right through you, my dear.”

She blanched at his words. His tone was not accusing nor angry, but casual and nonchalant. He wasn’t trying to put her down, but simply pointed out an observation. Nesta’s throat closed up as she realised just how much Eris truly picked up on. Not once did Cassian ever seem to notice how she flinched from every fire he lit, or how her room was always freezing and damp because she refused to use the fireplace. He had been too focused on fucking her to ever truly see through the front she put up.

“You do not have to tell me why,” Eris said, a bit softer this time. “But fear will distract you, and we cannot afford to have you distracted at this time. I will not force you to face this fear if you truly feel that you cannot, but I believe you are able to. You have already overcome so much, Archeron. Let this be just another obstacle.”

His gentle encouragement surprised Nesta, despite having experienced it before. She always found herself comparing his words to Cassian and the Inner Circle’s. The Inner Circle always gave her the illusion of a choice, two bad options with one worse than the other, forcing her to choose the lesser of two evils and end up going with what worked best for their agenda. There was no choice in training with Cassian, it was presented as something she simply had to do.

Eris, on the other hand, always offered her a way out – another option even if it was one that made his life more difficult. He would explain the upsides and downsides to each path with logic, not manipulation. It was something Nesta grew to appreciate. He never backed her into a corner, or wanted her to submit.

She hated how the way she was treated in the Night Court followed her around like a ghost, haunting her every move. Guilt churned in her gut every time she instinctively snapped at Eris, anticipating that she would be forced into something. To his credit, he did not appear phased by her reactions and would wave off any apologies. It was something the Inner Circle had never understood about her. Nesta’s life had been taken out of her hands when she was snatched in the middle of the night and forced into the Cauldron. She did not choose to become fae, and now suddenly she had an immortal life ahead of her and no idea what to do with it. Yet her choices in the Night Court were never her own. Someone always decided what was best for her, rather than letting her figure out this transition at her own pace.

But Eris always gave her a choice. Nesta knew Eris wanted her to overcome her fear of fire for everyone’s sake, and she trusted him enough by now that she knew if she said no, he would drop the subject rather than push her buttons. So she took a breath, staring at the pile of sticks the Prince had assembled. “Ok,” She said. “I’ll do it.”

*********************

Half an hour later, Nesta’s breath was slightly less shaky. Her back was pressed against Athariel’s silver neck, the heated scales of the dragon adding extra warmth against the damp autumn chill. A small orange fire blazed a few feet in front of her, that haunting snapping noise echoing throughout the cave. It took every ounce of self control Nesta had to not panic, taking deep breaths to try and push down the bile in her throat.

Eris sat beside her, his arm ever so slightly grazing hers. He had spent the past thirty minutes monologuing about anything and everything, a welcome distraction to help Nesta focus on something else other than the crackling of the fire. He told all types of stories, ranging from tales of the ancient beings in Prythian to recounting the time Lucien accidentally killed Eris’s favourite fish by taking it out of the water to get fresh air. Nesta had not chimed in, but let out a snort at the latter story. She had seen Eris smile out of the corner of her eye. A true smile, not his usual arrogant smirk. It made her heart flutter, seeing the autumn Prince so relaxed.

As time passed, the less Nesta flinched at the noises from the fire. Her body began to relax, and she saw less of her father’s face across her mind and began to appreciate the beauty of the orange flames. They still unsettled her and if she could smite them out this second she would. But she no longer felt the urge to crawl out of her own skin.

“... And I ate every last bit of that so-called ‘birthday cake’ Lucien made,” Eris rambled on, following another story about him and his youngest brother. “It was ghastly. Every bite made me want to hurl my guts up, but my brother looked so young and proud of his creation that I couldn’t hurt his feelings. Although he has always been a slippery little bastard, so part of me wondered if he was just playing innocent and deliberately made me a disgusting cake on purpose to see if I loved him enough to pretend it was good.”

Nesta laughed, truly laughed at that. She turned her head to meet Eris’s gaze. He made no jibing remark about how rare a laugh like that was for her, like Cassian would have done. He simply smiled, the orange light of the fire casting artful shadows across his pale skin.

“Eris,” Nesta began hesitantly, the noise of the fire fading into the background. “Can I ask you something?”

The heir shrugged. “I am an open book, Nesta Archeron. Ask away.”

She snorted. “Ok, well we both know that’s not true.”

“If you want to know my deepest darkest secrets, my dear, all you have to do is ask.” Eris purred. Nesta’s blood heated at his velvety voice, and she pushed herself to focus.

“What happened to Lucien?” She asked. “I was never told much about him, even by (Y/N). All I know is that he was in the Spring Court with Feyre when she was there, and he was in that room in Hybern with the Cauldron. And that he’s Elain’s mate and is now bouncing between the mortal lands and the Night Court.”

Eris sighed. “It’s complicated, Nesta.”

“I’m just trying to understand his role in all of this.”

“Including if he would be a good mate to your sister, am I correct?”

Nesta swallowed her sadness. She had tried not to think about Elain these past few weeks. The memory of finding out Elain had been the one to pack up what little belongings she had in her apartment stung like a fresh wound. “No,” She corrected Eris. “Because I appear to be the only one from the Night Court who likes to think of him as his own person, not just Elain’s mate. Who Elain chooses to be with is no longer my concern.”

Eris nodded. “Very well. Lucien is the youngest of my brothers, and my father was especially cruel to him. What I am about to tell you cannot leave this cave, understood?”

Nesta nodded, curious.

“Lucien is not my father’s son. My mother had an affair with Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court. I figured it out quickly, but my mother always denied it. My father had suspicions but no proof, so he took every opportunity he could to punish Lucien. He hated that Lucien never cared about his royal status, and that he frequently made friends with individuals that my father deemed unworthy – (Y/N) included. One day, he met a lesser faerie named Jesminda. When my father found out about it, he had two of my brothers hold Lucien back as he executed Jesminda right in front of him.”

Nesta chose her words carefully. “Were you… were you there?”

Eris looked at her sharply. “Yes, I was. But I refused my fathers request to kill Jesminda, so he did it himself. It is the only thing I have ever refused him, even to this day. And I paid the price for it.”

“What did he do to you?”

“That matters not. Once I was released from the dungeons, my spies informed me that my father was planning on killing Lucien. I knew my brother was smart and would flee to the Spring Court, so I alerted Tamlin to the situation. Tamlin found Lucien at the border and killed two of my three brothers that had been sent after him to slaughter Lucien on our father’s orders.”

Nesta picked at a thread on her sleeve and asked dryly, “Let me guess, Malgorm was the one who escaped Tamlin’s claws?”

Eris snorted humourlessly. “Yes. Somehow, Malgorm always finds a way to escape death. It’s incredibly annoying.”

“Does Lucien know what you did for him?”

“No. He does not. And it does not matter if he did know, it would not change his hatred for me.”

A sadness overtook Eris’s eyes that pained Nesta. With a sick feeling in her gut, she knew looking at Eris was like looking in a mirror. Two eldest children with a cruel parent, twisted and moulded into their parent’s perfect creation. Nesta knew that Feyre would always see her as their mother’s favourite, but never knew just how much Nesta suffered underneath her. How Nesta would plead to the universe every night that their mother would turn her attention elsewhere because neglect was better than cruelty to her. Feyre did not know that her grandmother had beaten her, or that her mother had pulled Nesta’s hair until she cried and deprived her of meals to keep her thin. Nesta had never told her, not only for fear of showing weakness, but because she knew that Feyre had been so neglected she wouldn’t truly be able to understand that their mother’s attention was not something to be desired.

And Eris was the same. All the tales Nesta had heard of him portrayed the male as a worse version of Beron, a perfect eldest son and soldier for the High Lord to wield like a sword. But he had done so much to protect his younger brother, and just like Nesta, had never told him because he knew he wouldn’t be able to fully understand it. They were both disliked by their youngest sibling for being their parent’s prized pupils, oblivious to the whole story. Even though Eris had not answered her question, Nesta knew that what Beron had put him through was a thousand times worse than anything her mother had done. Deep down, she knew that Eris was just as broken as she was. Their main difference was Eris had centuries of practice in masking it, whereas Nesta did not.

“You’re not a bad male, Eris.” Nesta said softly, her gaze lost in the warm amber of his eyes.

“You hardly know me.” His voice was bitter, the aloof arrogant mask he wore threatening to slide up and hide the vulnerability Nesta had seen in his face moments ago. “I’ve done horrible things in the name of my father, Nesta. Things that would make you run back to the Night Court if you knew.”

“I don’t judge people for what they had to do to survive.” Nesta insisted, her voice even. “You may have your own secret agenda, Eris, but you’ve treated me better than most people have in a long, long time. Do not think I don’t appreciate that.”

Eris laughed, and the haunted look was shoved from his face. “My dear, how you have been treated is appalling, even to me. Let’s not have that be the standard, I beg you.”

“How do you know I didn’t deserve it?” Nesta said before she could stop herself. It simply slipped out, the guilt that had been shoved down her throat by the Inner Circle ever since she became fae entrapping her words once again. It was an exhausting uphill battle. Every day, she told herself that she was right to flee the Night Court, to try and make a life for herself outside Velaris. But every day those seeds of doubt wriggled their way into her thoughts, trapping her inside a web of self hatred that she had fought so hard to get out of.

“Seriously?” Eris said incredulously, eyebrows raised. He shifted so he was facing Nesta, and he took her still trembling hands in his own. “Tell me, what criminal, abhorrent offence have you committed to warrant being treated like shit and locked up?”

Nesta’s throat was dry. “I didn’t try and help my family like Feyre did when we were in poverty.”

Eris shook his head. “You are the eldest daughter, not the parent. It was not your responsibility to provide for your family.”

“I was mean to Feyre on several occasions.”

“You’re sisters, that’s supposed to happen. You should hear the vicious things my brothers and I say to each other.”

“I spent a ton of Rhys’s money on alcohol, drinking myself stupid every night.”

“Please, that male has more money than anyone I know, my dear. I assure you his bank account was not dented in the slightest.”

“I slept my way through the city after the war.”

“Everyone in that little Inner Circle has fucked more fae than anyone I know. Your number is nothing compared to theirs.” Eris said calmly. “All I’m hearing is that a newly turned fae female was traumatised after being dragged into a brutal war she did not ask for, and found unhealthy yet very normal ways of coping. So tell me again, what actual horrid thing have you done to deserve any of this?”

Tears filled Nesta’s eyes as she listed her sins, the crackling of the fire fading into the background. She knew Eris was right, his logical mind soothing her anxious one. Talking about it with Eris was different than talking about it with you. You had been just as angry as Nesta had, forced into the same situation as her and kept in the House of Wind against your will, the Inner Circle using the fact that they had saved both your lives as leverage to make you do what they wanted. You were someone who Nesta could rant to about it and get angry, letting that hatred she felt out to someone who knew exactly what she meant. But Eris was different. He rationalised her thoughts, providing a different kind of reassurance.

She couldn’t stop the tears that fell down her cheeks. Nesta bit her wobbling lip, trying to keep more from spilling out. Eris released one of her hands, bringing it up to her face and gently brushing the tears away. “They’ve done a number on you, haven’t they?” He murmured softly, cupping her cheek. “What are you thinking right now, Nesta Archeron?”

Nesta inhaled deeply, pressing her face slightly harder into Eris’s warm hand. The smell of smoke and forest engulfing her senses. “That I am scared,” She admitted. “For so many reasons. I am scared that Cassian will find me and steal me back to Velaris. That everything we’ve done has all been for nothing. I’m scared that your father will find us out somehow and kill us all. I’m scared for (Y/N) and her engagement to your awful brother. And I hate myself, Eris. I hate myself for who I’ve become not just because I am now fae, but because the person I was before the Cauldron would not have given in and trained with Cassian. I… I am afraid that with this new immortality ahead of me I will not recognize the girl I used to be, and not in a good way. I hate that I have let the words of people who barely know me cut this deeply, and I am ashamed of it.”

Eris continued to use his thumb to brush away the fresh tears on her cheeks. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “You have had a difficult hand dealt to you, Nesta.” Eris said softly. “And they should have known better. Do not be ashamed. For anything. Just know you have (Y/N), just as you have me. We will not let the Night Court take you, I swear on my mother’s life. Your mate cares for you, and I… I care for you, too.”

Nesta opened her mouth to respond, but a strange sensation in her chest stopped her. It suddenly felt like she was falling through space, the stars overhead spinning around her as she plummeted towards a strange light. She gasped, and felt Eris tense up as well. In her mind, she saw her silver flames dancing towards orange ones. They intertwined, braiding together and forming a magical rope-like appearance. Nesta reached down in her mind, her heartbeat racing as she grabbed a hold of it. She peered down to where the flames had extended to, seeing a flaming silhouette on the other end, her silver flames surrounding it affectionately.

And so she reached forward, extending a mental hand into that flaming silhouette.

And Eris gasped.

Nesta’s eyes shot open, and she lurched back from the Autumn Prince’s touch. Eris’s face was ghostly pale, and he was panting as if he had just fought off a hundred soldiers at once. Athariel hissed behind her, not happy to be awoken by the sudden movement. Her mouth was dry. She had felt this feeling before, but with you. That flaming rope she had followed felt the same as the pull of the tattoo on her sternum.

The mating bond.

The flaming silhouette at the other end of the magical rope was Eris Vanserra. Nesta’s mind reeled, her body threatening to combust with the feeling inside her chest. She could only stare at the male before her in shock.

Estelle said fae can have more than one mate, but Cassian is not one of yours. Your words rang in Nesta’s head like a bell, making her feel dizzy. No, she thought. This isn’t possible. You were her mate, how could this happen? There was still that strange feeling in her chest from Cassian, which confused her even more. The feeling of one mating bond within her was overwhelming enough, but two? Nesta didn’t know if she could survive it.

“Eris…” His voice was like a prayer on her lips, sounding completely different than the previous hundred times she had said it. It was like a song, carrying over to the shaken autumn prince and snapping him out of his trance.

“Nesta.” Her blood sang at the sound of her name, silver flames sparking from her fingertips in response.

“Like calls to like…” She muttered, recalling Eris’s repetition of the phrase. And then it dawned on her. Eris had consistently told her that like calls to like, and she had thought he was talking about their similarities in magic.

Fury rose within her, drowning out everything else. “Did you know?” She hissed at Eris.

The male’s eyes were wide, and he stuttered. “I–”

“Did you fucking know?” Nesta growled. “Is this the only reason you agreed to help us? So you could use the bond to trap me. Is that what you wanted? To keep me prisoner here, just like your father did to your mother?”

Eris blanched, flinching like he had been struck. Nesta felt it, the blow of her words, as if she had been punched in the chest. “I swear, I did not know.” Eris pleaded. “Nesta, please, you have to trust me. I had no idea about this.”

Nesta rose to her feet, her entire body shaking. She climbed onto Athariel’s back, nudging the dragon forward with her heels. Athariel grumbled, but got to her feet and began to crawl out of the cave. Her hands shook as she held onto the dragon’s horns. She stared down at Eris, who appeared paralyzed in shock as he looked up at her. Nesta’s voice was cold as ice as she said, “I don’t believe you.”

And as Athariel spread her wings and took to the sky, Nesta had not noticed the fire had gone out completely.

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bookworm551 · 1 year

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Of Duty and Desire | Chapter 4 | Neteyam x Metkayina!reader

A/N: So, ya girl got COVID on Monday, so I’ve had to miss work all week, but let my misfortune be your blessing bc I was able to finish this chapter early. Thank you for all the love from this fic, it’s almost finished!! I promise the next part will be fluffier, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoy angst :)

Words: 6.5k

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Epilogue

Fate seemed to be making a fool out of you. Before, when you wanted to see Neteyam, it was like he was never there, but now, one week after his confession, you were constantly running into him. To make matters worse, you were never alone together. There was always someone there to force the two of you into awkward interactions that you both wanted to avoid, and you would just have to pretend like everything was fine.

What was surprising was that nobody seemed to notice. Nobody paid any attention to the fact that you two were almost like strangers to each other. You wouldn't even look at each other if you could help it, though you couldn't resist watching his face every now and then when he wasn't looking.

You felt miserable, and there was no way to stop it. You had nobody to talk to about it since the one person you would go to was the one person you were avoiding. You wished that you had listened to him, that you hadn't pried, because now he didn't even acknowledge you in public. He would just nod politely like he would any stranger, or sometimes he wouldn't do anything at all. He would just walk by like you weren't there.

The only person who could manage to take your mind off of Neteyam was Tsireya. The two of you were inseparable, and even though you felt you couldn't tell her the truth about Neteyam, being around her eased the hurt you were hiding. You would often ask her to accompany you on errands around the island just so that you wouldn't have to be alone with your thoughts.

On one such occasion, the two of you were planning a trek up the island mountain to gather as many star berries as possible now that they were in season. You each had a large basket and a pouch full of water as you set off towards the trees to the mountain. As you crossed the beach, your attention was drawn to the figures of Lo'ak and Neteyam not far off.

You looked away quickly and hoped desperately that they didn't see you, but your luck didn't hold because Tsireya saw them, too. You sighed as she called out for the boys, and they both crossed over to where you both stood. You gave Neteyam a quick glance before looking down at the sand.

"We are heading up the mountain to pick star berries," Tsireya explained with a shining smile. "You should join us!" Lo'ak returned her smile eagerly and replied, "Sure, that sounds like fun." You stifled a sigh. Of course, he would agree to come with the two of you.

Neteyam glanced back and forth between you and Lo'ak uncomfortably. "Actually, there is something I need to go do," he said quietly and took a step back. Lo'ak shot his brother a confused look. "What are you talking about, bro?" He asked, giving Neteyam a light smack on his arm. "Don't be a wuss, come on."

Neteyam looked carefully over at you and hesitated. You realized that he was gauging your reaction to see how he should reply. If he came, it would force the two of you to interact more than you had the whole week put together. At first, you were inclined to react negatively, but after a split second, you said, "These baskets will be heavy when they're full. It would be nice to have more hands to carry them."

Neteyam blinked in surprise before nodding slowly. "Alright," he conceded. Honestly, you surprised yourself. Maybe it was for the best that you avoided him, but doing that was already causing you so much misery. If you could try and ease the tension between you, perhaps you could regain some semblance of your friendship again.

The four of you walked together into the trees. Tsireya and Lo'ak stepped side-by-side while you and Neteyam each walked on the opposite sides of them. You listened to their chatter while occasionally joining in to seem less awkward.

The path through the trees eventually narrowed so that only two at a time could walk together. Tsireya and Lo'ak pushed through together, forcing you and Neteyam to fall behind them. He hadn't said a word this whole time, and it seemed he would keep it that way unless you interjected.

"Hi," you said softly, looking up at him with a faint smile. He glanced over at you in mild surprise before replying back, "Hi." You took a couple of steps in silence while you thought of something better to say.

"Listen, I—," "I'm sorry—,"

You both rushed to speak at the same time, cutting each other off. Awkwardly, you both gave weak smiles before Neteyam said, "You first." You took a breath to regain your thoughts before speaking.

"I wanted to say that we shouldn't have to be so formal around each other," you explained quietly. "I miss speaking with you, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life treating you like a stranger." He took a couple of steps in contemplation. "And how should we be around each other?" He asked thoughtfully.

You gave a soft shrug. "Like friends," you suggested. He didn't say anything for a moment, he just looked up the trail where Lo'ak and Tsireya had disappeared to. "Friends," he repeated slowly like he was testing the word in his mouth. You nodded. "Friends," you confirmed.

He seemed dubious, but he nodded with you. "It's your turn now," you stated. "What were you going to say?" He looked over at you with a faint smile that quickly faded away. "I am sorry for my behavior lately," he told you sincerely. "I wasn't sure how to handle everything, so I just decided that avoiding you was for the best."

You sighed as you looked down at the shrubs around your feet. "I understand," you said. "And I am sorry for what I did, too. I should not have pried, it was wrong." He shook his head with a sigh. "I was pulling away," he explained. "You didn't deserve that. I'm sorry."

You walked in a slow silence for a while. The path through the trees was now clearing up and turning upwards into the mountain. Lo'ak and Tsireya were already way ahead of you. "Keep up!" Lo'ak called from above with a laugh.

You and Neteyam shared a look before increasing your pace across the ground. The terrain was growing rocky, and your large basket made the ascent a little awkward. At one point, you stopped before a steep boulder, trying to figure out the best way up. Neteyam scaled it easily before turning back and offering his hand wordlessly.

You hesitated for half a moment before taking his hand, and he effortlessly pulled you up to him. You stood face-to-face for a moment with your hand still in his. His eyes flickered back and forth between your eyes and lips for a beat before he dropped your hand and took a step back toward the trail.

Heart pounding, you sighed and shook yourself mentally. Friends, you reminded yourself. Just be friends. You pressed on after the others ahead of you.

Before long, you all came upon the bushes of star berries that grew along the trail. The four of you immediately began picking, feeling triumphant about finally reaching your destination. All around you, the bushes spread over the ground and intermingled among various plants and flowers.

"Don't eat them!" Tsireya scolded Lo'ak playfully as he popped the berries into his mouth. You couldn't help but laugh as he skipped out of reach from your friend's swatting hands. "Just a couple won't hurt," Lo'ak argued with a grin.

He headed further up to start picking the berries further away so he could snack on them without fear of getting whacked for it. You shook your head at him with a smile as you, Tsireya, and Neteyam worked closely together to harvest the sweet food. "That skxawng is going to eat them all," Neteyam stated with a sigh, earning a laugh from you and Tsireya.

"I'm glad the rain lilies are still in bloom," you noted. "They are so pretty." Tsireya hummed in agreement. She leaned over to where a large, red flower grew from the ground and plucked it. With a smile, she turned back to you and placed it behind your ear.

"There," she said proudly. You laughed at her playfully but kept the flower in place. "Doesn't she look beautiful?" She asked Neteyam. His eyes glanced up at your face, and he smiled softly. "Very," he agreed after a beat.

You turned your head away to focus on picking more berries while you felt a warm blush spread across your face. Maybe having him come was not such a good idea.

Slowly, you made your way up the trail with your basket growing heavier and heavier. Tsireya had gotten up and moved over to Lo'ak to keep him from eating all the berries he picked, leaving you and Neteyam to work in silence together. You wanted to say something, but the words just didn't seem to flow like they used to. Now, it seemed that you had too much to say and no way of saying it.

After you had cleared most of the bushes around you, you stood up to move further up the trail. As you stood, the flower resting behind your ear came loose and fluttered down to the ground. Before you could stoop down and grab it, Neteyam reached over to where the flower had fallen and picked it up. He stood up beside you and brought his hand up to your head.

He carefully placed the flower behind your ear again, his fingers brushing against your hair as he stared down at you. You felt paralyzed as you looked up at him. His eyes were trained on the lily for a moment before moving to look at your eyes. You could see the longing in his face as his fingers slowly moved down and gently traced the edge of your face, causing your breath to falter.

With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes and pulled back. "Friends," he muttered under his breath as he grabbed the basket off the ground and moved over to where the others were. You stood there for a moment and took a deep breath. This definitely wasn't a good idea.

You all continued collecting berries until both baskets were completely full. Together, you and the others hauled your harvest back down the mountain, Lo'ak and Tsireya walking together with a basket between them, leaving you and Neteyam to walk together with the other basket in silence.

"Surely, we can have a normal conversation together," you said finally, breaking the awkward silence between you. "I miss talking to you." Neteyam didn't say anything for a beat before responding, "I miss talking to you as well." He looked over at you and studied your face for a moment. "I just—," he hesitated, and you both slowed your pace. "I don't know how to be 'just friends' when I feel the way I do," he admitted. "Or when I know how you feel, too."

You looked away from him, feeling slightly abashed. "I know," you said quietly. "I wish it was simple." You kept walking a few paces before stopping, forcing Neteyam to stop with you. "You know why it must be this way, yes?" you wondered aloud, staring up at him intently. He hesitated and took a deep breath.

"Yes," he answered quietly. "I know that you have a duty to uphold to your people." You nodded solemnly, turning back to walk down the trail. Neteyam didn't move though, and you looked back up at him questioningly. "But if you had a choice...," he began slowly, watching you carefully for your reaction.

You shook your head and gave him a warning look. "Don't do that," you told him in a low voice. "There is no choice, and wishing that there was will only make this worse." You noticed how his jaw flexed at your words as he stared down at you. You held his gaze for a moment before he looked away with a faint nod and continued down the path.

The truth was that you did wish that you had a choice. You tore yourself up over it day and night, yet somehow, it was more painful knowing that he also participated in that self-inflicted torture. Hearing it out loud made you aware of just how hurtful wishful thinking could be when there was no possibility of it coming true.

Still, Neteyam didn't seem happy with what you said, and he didn't say anything else for the rest of the trip back to the village. When you arrived back, you left your baskets with those preparing the food for the night. Neteyam immediately began walking away back toward the beach, but you still felt dissatisfied with how your conversations ended and wanted to give it one more try.

"Neteyam," you called out, stepping quickly across the sand to catch up to him. He stopped walking at the sound of your voice, but he didn't turn around. You grabbed his arm gently and pulled him around to face you. He turned to you with closed eyes and took a deep breath.

"Can you just tell me what you're thinking?" you pleaded softly. He opened his eyes and looked down at you tenderly. He waited a moment before speaking. "I want to be with you," he quietly admitted at last. "All the time, every day, I want to be with you." You stared up at him wordlessly as he took a breath. His face was gentle and forlorn as he gazed down at you.

"But you have an obligation to be with someone else," he continued with a slight shake of his head. "So, as much as I want to be with you, I think that me staying away is for the best." Your jaw clenched reflexively at his words, feeling the sting of them deep in your chest.

You stood there, not sure of what to say to him. "I am sorry," he whispered earnestly. "This is how it must be." Your eyes met his, and you could see that he truly looked regretful at what he was saying. He could only hold your gaze for a few seconds before he turned around and walked away, leaving you standing on the beach hurt and alone.

The hurt hadn't subsided by the next day, but you carried on as normally as you could. You didn't see him at all the whole day, even during meal times. He seemed to be committed to his resolve of staying away from you.

Later in the day, you were working in Ronal's tent when, from the corner of your eye, you saw a dark blue figure enter into the tent. With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes. "I thought you said you weren't—," you cut yourself off mid-sentence as you opened them again. Lo'ak was standing there with one of his human-like eyebrows raised apprehensively.

"Sorry," you muttered, slightly embarrassed. "I thought— I thought you were Neteyam." With an awkward look, Lo'ak replied slowly, "Uh-huh." Taking a breath, you asked him, "What can I help you with?"

He studied you for a second. "My mother sent me to get something for a stomachache," he explained. You nodded and pushed yourself up from the floor to walk across the tent.

As you were searching for the appropriate remedy, Lo'ak said, "Speaking of Neteyam—," You sighed in exasperation at his words. You did not want to talk about Neteyam, especially not to his brother. "Sore subject?" Lo'ak observed. You shook your head, trying to remain as neutral as possible. "Why would he be?" You asked mutely.

From the corner of your eye, you could see that Lo'ak crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know," he replied, "but you're definitely a sore subject for him." You glanced over at him for a second before turning away, but you caught the expectant look on Lo'ak's face.

"What's going on with you guys?" He asked in concern. You paused, deliberating whether or not you should tell your friend what had happened. "It's nothing," you told him, grabbing a handful of leaves. You turned back to him and handed him the remedy. "Soak this in water and have her drink it," you instructed.

Lo'ak took the leaves but studied your face closely. "Whatever is going on with you," he said slowly, "it's killing him. I've never seen him like this before." Your chest tightened painfully, and you closed your eyes, fighting to stay composed. "Lo'ak," you pleaded quietly. "Just leave it."

He stared at you, unsure of what to do or say. Finally, he said, "Listen, I know that my brother can be annoying, but he cares about you a lot, you know?" You looked down at the floor. "I know," you responded quietly. Lo'ak shook his head. "It doesn't really seem like it," he countered. You felt your impassive countenance crumble as your throat tightened, and you looked up at him slowly.

"I know," you whispered.

Lo'ak froze, and his whole demeanor shifted as he realized what you were saying. "Oh," he replied in a loud whisper. "He told you?" You sighed regretfully. There was no point in denying it now.

"I sort of forced it out of him," you admitted. He hummed in understanding. "So that's why you guys have been acting weird," he surmised. You looked away from him with a faint nod. "It has been difficult for us to be around each other," you told him.

"What does Aonung think?" Lo'ak asked. You shook your head. "He doesn't know," you explained. "He can't know." Lo'ak raised an eyebrow at you. "You didn't tell him?" he sounded surprised. You sighed and ran a hand over your face. "Of course not," you replied. "It would just lead to more problems."

There was a pause, and from the corner of your eye, you could see Lo'ak watching you carefully. "Aonung does not have feelings for me," you explained slowly. "But if he finds out that Neteyam does, he will be very angry with him. And with me." Lo'ak looked at you in curiosity. "Why would he be angry with you?" he questioned.

You didn't respond for a moment, you just turned and looked up at him sadly. "Lo'ak," you whispered urgently. "It's not just Neteyam who has feelings. I...," you trailed off, hoping that he could pick up on what you were trying to say.

Fortunately, he did. "Oh," he whispered, and then his eyes widened at the realization of what you were saying. "Oh." He looked behind himself to make sure nobody was lurking by the entrance before he asked in a loud whisper, "You like him back?!"

You shushed him with a light smack on the arm, feeling embarrassed at his conclusion, but you were not able to deny it. "Oh, that is bad," he continued quietly, unfazed at you hitting him. "I thought you loved Aonung." You closed your eyes in exasperation. Maybe you should have kept this to yourself.

"We are betrothed," you explained in a hushed tone. "But we do not have feelings for each other. We never have." Lo'ak crossed his arms as he looked at you with a puzzled face. "Then why would you agree to be with him if you guys didn't like each other?" he questioned.

You let out a huff of irritation. Was he really this oblivious? "Don't you see?" You said desperately. "This has all been arranged since I was younger than Tuk." Lo'ak's eyebrows furrowed, and he seemed taken aback somewhat. "What do you mean?" He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. "My mother and Ronal have been close friends their whole lives. So, when my mother had a daughter and Ronal had a son...," you sighed in resignation. "It was obvious." Lo'ak didn't say anything as he watched you carefully. "When I turned 15," you continued, "they did a formal announcement, but it was all for show. I knew Ronal had chosen me, and saying yes seemed like the right thing for the People."

You paused as you remembered the day. Your family had seemed so happy, as did his. With hundreds of eyes on you, you accepted the role of tsakarem in front of the whole clan. You hadn't realized at the time what you were giving up, but how could you? You had never planned on falling in love with an Omatikayan warrior.

"So," Lo'ak began slowly, "you never really wanted any of this, did you?" You shook your head sadly. "No," you whispered. "And I cannot give up my position without bringing shame and dishonor to myself, my family, and Aonung. I would practically be an outcast." He nodded and gave you a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry," he told you earnestly. "Being an outcast is no fun, trust me." You gave him a weak smile and sighed again.

"You cannot tell anyone this," you said insistently. "Not Kiri, not Tuk, and definitely not Tsireya." You shot him a pointed look. Lo'ak raised his hands in surrender and said, "Alright, alright. Your secret is safe with me," then added as an afterthought, "but it won't be safe for long if you two don't figure out some way to act normally around each other. People are going to notice."

You nodded mutely at him. He was right— people would notice if you continued with this estranged relationship. "Thank you," you said quietly. "For listening and for keeping this quiet." He nodded softly and chuckled.

"If this gets out, Neteyam would be in more trouble than I've ever been in," he stated in amusement. You shot him a glare and smacked his arm again. "That's not funny," you told him in a serious tone. "Alright, it's not funny," he conceded with a wry grin still on his face. "I'm going to take this to my mother now."

You nodded and watched him leave. It felt nice to have a confidant, but your stomach still twisted with anxiety. Of all the people who could have found out, did it really have to be Lo'ak?

You were relieved, however, that Lo'ak seemed to keep your secret. He didn't tell, and he didn't try to interfere with the mess between you and his brother. You still didn't see Neteyam around very much, and it still hurt knowing why.

The first time you saw him again after picking berries was just a couple days after Lo'ak found out. You were all eating dinner together when Aonung came up to your circle of friends with Neteyam at his side. "I have found our wayward friend," Aonung joked as he sat down beside you. Neteyam had not sat with you all in nearly a week, and the others had started to notice his unexplained absence.

"Is it so bad for one to eat with their parents?" He defended with a small smile. Aonung rolled his eyes playfully. "If you don't like us, just say so," he replied. Neteyam chuckled at his friend and sat down across from you. You didn't bother looking at him, keeping your eyes trained on your food.

"Tomorrow, all of us are going hunting out past the reef," Aonung told him. "You should come with us." Neteyam paused in consideration. "All of you?" He asked casually, but you knew why he was asking.

"Not me," you interjected. "I am working with Ronal all day in the village, so I cannot go out hunting with them." Aonung nudged you gently. "You do not even like going out past the sea wall," he noted with a knowing smirk. The corners of your mouth turned upwards. He was right, you much preferred staying in the reef. It was much more beautiful than outside the drop-off, and you enjoyed the peacefulness of it all.

"I know," you said, nudging him back, "but I still wish I could choose." Neteyam couldn't help but give a quiet huff at your statement and replied quietly, "Wishing for a choice you don't have always makes it worse."

Neteyam hadn't really meant for you to hear it, but you did. The smile on your face immediately vanished, and you stared down at your food again. He saw your reaction and immediately knew that he had crossed the line. You didn't look at him or say anything else for the rest of the meal, and it weighed on him heavily. He decided to wait until you dismissed yourself to go and apologize in private, but you finished at the same time as Tsireya, and without another word, you left with her.

After everyone had finished eating, Neteyam went off on his own to find you before it grew too late in the evening. He walked through the village to where your home was, but he soon found it was empty. He was walking back towards the beach again when he came across Tsireya, who informed him that you had gone out for a late-night walk alone.

"She said she needed to clear her mind," she explained to him with a small shrug. Neteyam nodded gratefully and continued walking along the beach. He knew you enjoyed unwinding on the beach like you had the night he took you out on his ikran, and so he trailed the perimeter of the island in hopes of coming across you.

He wandered further and further away from the village until he came across the edge of the sea wall where the water ran over the edge of the rocks. He paused. When I need to clear my mind, I have a secret place I like to go to. That's what you had told him before. Looking around, he recognized this as the north end of the sea wall, right where you told him you go.

Glancing around to ensure that no one was present to see him, Neteyam walked into the waves and began swimming out toward the overflowing water. The rocks of the sea wall stood out high above the rest of the sea, and the falling water produced a steady roar that drowned out most of the noise around.

Taking a breath, Neteyam submerged himself under the water where you said the cave entrance was. It was difficult to see, so he kept a hand on the rock as he swam deeper and deeper until it gave way and started receding away from him. Following the tunnel with his hand, he swam into the entrance of the rock until he began to see a faint glow ahead. He didn't have to swim far before the tunnel turned upward and his head broke the surface of the water.

You were sitting beside the pool of water that Neteyam had popped up from, and when you saw him, you gasped in surprise and jumped to your feet in alarm. "You scared me," you whispered harshly as you took a couple of steps back to regain your composure and calm your startled heart.

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly, but he couldn't resist a small smile at your reaction. "I thought I would find you here." You sighed in resignation. "You are the only one who could," you replied under your breath, sounding almost regretful that you had revealed your hiding spot to him.

Taking in the sight of the cave, Neteyam was impressed. The roof of the cave was high enough for even the tallest of Na'vi to stand at full height without issue, and in the dim light, Neteyam saw that the cave pushed back far into the body of the rock. The ground surrounding the water was smooth, and looking up along the damp cavern walls, there was glowing lichen growing over the rocks, casting a bluish glow throughout the whole space. It was beautiful.

You watched as he pulled himself up from the pool, droplets of water falling from his lean figure. "What are you doing here?" you questioned in a defeated voice. He took a breath, all the amusement from startling you disappearing from his face. "I am sorry for what I said before at dinner," he said honestly, stepping toward you. "I shouldn't have said anything."

You hugged yourself defensively and looked away from him. "You weren't wrong," you muttered quietly. He shook his head with a sigh. "That doesn't mean it was right for me to say," he pointed out. You didn't respond, keeping your eyes fixed on a particular spot on the wall to avoid looking at him.

"I know you want things to go back to how they were," he said gently, "but I do not think that is possible." You closed your eyes at his words, already feeling emotional about what he had said earlier in the evening. "I can't pretend to be fine while you are betrothed to someone else," he continued. "I just— I don't know how to be around you...but I can't seem to stay away from you."

You huffed dejectedly and fought back tears. You were so tired, both physically and emotionally. The friction between the two of you had been wearing you down since he had revealed his feelings for you. It was so difficult for you to go from being as close as you were to now having this tense and strained relationship. You wanted to make things right, but now, it felt impossible.

"So that's it?" you asked quietly. "We just go on with our lives acting like we don't know each other?" He looked down at you sadly without reply. "I don't want to do that," you continued softly. "I still care about you, Neteyam, but when you just ignore me, it feels like you hate me." His eyes softened at your words, and you had to glance away in order to keep your emotions in check. You whispered finally, "I don't know what to do to make it stop."

After a brief silence, Neteyam let out a regretful sigh. To your surprise, he took a step forward and reached out to take your hand in his. "I don't hate you," he muttered quietly. "Not even close." You looked up at his face, his ordinarily amber eyes appearing green in the light of the cave lichen. "You could've fooled me," you mumbled under your breath.

He closed his eyes and squeezed your hand gently. "I don't hate you," he repeated insistently. "I am angry, but not at you." His hand dropped from yours, and you immediately missed his touch. "I'm angry with myself for being so...," he looked away as he searched for the right words. "For not being able to let you go."

You felt an aching in your chest at his words. You had lost track of the hours you stayed up at night wishing that things could be different, that you didn't have to be with Aonung, that you could renounce your title without bringing shame to your family. You felt tears prick at your eyes as you looked at Neteyam's defeated face. The truth was, you hadn't been able to let go of him either.

You shook your head sadly. "Neteyam," you said softly. "Talking about it will only make it harder for both of us." He scoffed quietly at your words. "I think that makes it worse, too," he added. "The fact that you feel the same way, and so we are both here quietly suffering."

You felt somewhat attacked by his words. "You know why I can't," you told him sharply. "You of all people should know what it's like to have to put your duties before yourself." He grimaced. "Of course, I know," he murmured under his breath. "It's all I've ever known. All my life, I have done what is expected of me. I have always played the parts I was given— the son of Olo'eyktan, older brother, warrior, future leader."

His voice was growing more heated as he spoke, and he took a step toward you, drawing even closer. "And I have never complained. I have never once tried to do something or be someone else, and I was fine with it. Even when I wanted different, I never complained." He glanced away for a moment and clenched his jaw. When he looked back at you, you could see the frustration burning in his face. "I just—," he paused, staring at you intensely. "I've never wanted anything as much as I want you."

Your voice felt stuck. Your heart was beating so hard that you were surprised the sound of it wasn't echoing in the cave around you.

Neteyam shook his head and looked down at the floor. "Maybe if you didn't care," he continued quietly, "or even if you hated me, maybe I could bear it. But to know that you...," he trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. "It burns," he said softly. His eyes flashed up to yours, and you could see his face contorted in frustration and longing.

"Doesn't it burn for you?"

Your throat tightened, and for a moment, you couldn't say anything. You clenched your jaw as you fought to stay composed. "Of course it burns," you whispered back, not trusting your voice. "Every day it burns. Every day I wish things were different. I wish—," your voice cracked as you got louder, making you pause.

You shook your head in remorse. "But I can't get my wish. I will never get it. People like you and I don't get what we want. That is the sacrifice demanded of us, for our duty." Neteyam remained still for a beat. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I know," he whispered. "You're right. I'm sorry."

You sighed and ran a frustrated hand over your face. "Don't you just wish it would stop?" You asked quietly. He looked down at you, and his gaze softened. He no longer looked upset, just sad. After a moment, he replied softly, "No." You blinked up at him, surprised by his answer.

"I just wish it could be real," he whispered, his eyes settling on your face intently.

There was something about his answer that made your heart start beating faster. Maybe it was the way he cocked his head at you with his eyes staring at you desirously. Perhaps it was how the glowing reflections of the water around you illuminated his face. It may have been the tone of his voice as he spoke, but whatever it was, it made your mind freeze.

Without another thought or another word, you stepped forward and kissed him.

Neteyam melted into you instantly. He brought his hands around your waist as you slid your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Your lips broke apart for a second before he eagerly returned for more.

It was everything you wanted. His strong body leaned against yours, and you could feel the muscles in his shoulders under your hands. He pressed against you, and you took a couple of steps backward with blind trust. Without breaking your kiss, one of his hands left your body to catch the wall behind you before your back came to rest against it.

He couldn't seem to get enough of you as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the edge of your lips. You sighed against his mouth, all the tension you had been feeling for so long finally being released. He moved his lips down to your jaw and kissed you all the way down to your neck. You moaned softly as his lips trailed down your sensitive skin. You raised your hand to hold his head as he kissed you when something made him pause.

He pulled back slightly, and you opened your eyes to look at him. You saw that his eyes were fixated on your neck, or more specifically, what rested on your neck. Your hand came up and felt the akula tooth hanging on the necklace Aonung made for you.

Oh no.

You were instantly brought back to reality with a sharp gasp. You pulled your arms away from Neteyam and brought the back of your hand to your lips. This was all wrong. You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't be doing this.

Neteyam seemed to realize at the same time as you what you had done, and he stepped back with a distressed look. "I'm sorry," he whispered apologetically. You closed your eyes, trying to keep yourself composed. "No," you replied softly. "It was me, I—," you took a shaky breath, still keeping your eyes shut. "I should not have— I am sorry."

You could still feel the memory of his lips against yours, the warmth of his arms around your body. Even now, you could hear his heavy breathing. You opened your eyes and saw Neteyam's concerned face staring back at you. He looked so worried for you. In his eyes, you could see the longing he felt for you, but he stayed back for your sake.

"I can't do this," you whispered finally. "I thought I could, but I can't." His eyes flashed in pain at your words, but he didn't say anything. You stepped away from the wall, still feeling your heart beat rapidly in your chest.

As you moved away, Neteyam whispered your name softly, making you hesitate. You wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms again, to feel his lips on yours. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I didn't mean to upset you." He shifted anxiously before repeating softly, "I don't know how to stay away from you."

You closed your eyes tightly at his words. "No," you said quietly. "I cannot trust myself around you." You opened your eyes and saw the pain clearly displayed across his face. "Please," he whispered. "Don't go." Your throat tightened, and tears welled in your eyes. "I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking.

You turned, dove back into the pool, and prayed that Neteyam didn't follow you. Even if he did jump after you, though, you knew you were the faster swimmer, and you moved as quickly as you could away from the edge of the sea wall and back to the village.

That night, you got no sleep. You tossed and turned, the memories of the night replaying over and over again in your head. You couldn't shake the memory of his lips moving against yours, the warmth of his body pressed close to you, and the desperation of Neteyam's touch on your skin. What was most prevalent in your mind was the overwhelming guilt you felt at everything.

How could you face Ronal and Aonung knowing what you had done?

Chapter 5

_____________________

Taglist: @mashiromochi @eywas-heir @kafanizdakicokiyi @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @fanboyluvr @anm3mi @sadexact @peachinsomnia @fluroescentxadolescent @doulcha @crazy4books1 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam angst #neteyam fic #avatar fanfiction #kiri sully #loak sully #neteyam x metkayina!reader #metkayina #aonung #tsireya

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wangxianficfinder · 11 months

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Fic finder

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1. I'm looking for a fic that's during the Cloud Recesses study arc where, WWX I think, found out Wen Chao couldn't read and started teaching him. I think a couple of the other kids started helping him, MianMian maybe? I can't remember much but they definitely helped him learn how to read and became friends. TIA

FOUND? Wei Wuxian’s Super Special Super Secret Book Club by Anonyma (T, 31k, WWX & WC & LQY, WangXian, Canon Divergence)

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2. hello!! All good? I'm looking for a collection of one shots, and I can't find it, I read it a little while ago but I remember a one shot, where Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying were discussing the fact that Wei Ying had saved the heirs of the sects in cave and Jin Ling was listening and Wei Ying was saying that if he hadn't saved the heirs Jin Ling wouldn't exist and Jiang Cheng said something like, Whatever.... Honestly, I don't even remember the tags, but Jiang Cheng and Wei Ying realizing that Jin Ling had heard, Wei Ying asks what Jin Ling wants. @sweettiebah

FOUND! 🔒 Chapter 11: Careless Words of Short Prompts by Vrishchika (JL POV - Not JC Friendly - WWX loses his patience)

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3. Hello !! Ive read this fanfic a while ago and I have multiple ss of it since i like to save memorable parts of the fic but now i cant remember it anymore </3 i dont remember the synopsis but there was a scene where Lwj and Wwx were in an inn while out night hunting, and wwx suspected the person serving them to have poisoned lwj, wwx got really angry and threatened the guy to the max

quote:

Wei Wuxian slammed him against the wall again, cutting off his rapid ramblings and jostling his fractured arm. "Your stories bore me," he spoke lowly, peering his head around slightly so as to almost look into Heng She's face. He still had yet to acknowledge Lan Wangji's presence. "Tell me why you poisoned the tea, or I will hang you in the street by your intestines, ripped open to let the crows feed on your liver." @jingyisbff

FOUND! let me sing to you by greybird_crookedbranch (T, 61k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, adorable Juniors, Minor Original Character(s)for plot purposes, Minor Violence, Demonic Cultivation, resentful energy, Trauma, Guilt, Protectiveness, BAMF WWX, Hurt wwx, Protective WWX, Protective LWJ, Baby Lans, Mental Instability, Possession, it's a case fic but the case is for the hurts, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, a tasteful seasoning of Yunmeng Bros Reconcilliation, CQL canon except LWJ is not chief cultivator, Nightmares)

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4. Hello! T__T I have my focus mode on so my distracting apps like twitter (x) are paused. I took a 5 minutes break and opened it. I saw a threadfic of Bottomji/Topxian (Omegaverse) They already have 3 kids (Yuan, Twins) but they are all alphas. lwj wants a daughter (or an omega son). He rode wwx that night then let him knot him for 3x. They were on a date and lwj bought some robes for a girl the confronts wwx that he wants a daughter.... Thats all Ive read. I want to read the whole thread but my app closed. 💔 Can you guys help me with it? I cant find it anymore.

FOUND! sounds like this twt threadfic by @/omegawangji

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5. Hi, I need help finding a fic I’m pretty sure I’ve seen recommended on here a couple years ago.

I don’t remember the title or the author. It was on AO3. It was an Alternative Universe fic where WWX is an art student (and lived in a dorm with the Wen siblings) and LWJ has a very active but discreet sex life. WangXian know each other but they’re not together. Eventually they start sleeping with each other (WWX doesn’t realize LWJ actually likes him and he’s not just another hookup). There is also a secondary plot about one of LWJ’s past hookups stalking and tormenting them at a club or party at some point? T

his is all I can remember, unfortunately. I hope to reach someone who knows which fic this is by asking on here. WangXian nation, do your thing! 🙏

FOUND? show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending) It doesn't match exactly but some details do

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6. For fic finder, a fic I read a good while back.

It was one of those “jgs magically spies on the burial mounds to get people to hate wwx and the remnants” but in this one wwx and lwj did the “a-yuan is birthed from wwx” thing and the people spying believe it. Lqr passes out for a bit and lxc and jc start planning a wedding since lwj apparently deflowered wwx. I think it was completed

FOUND! Assumptions by draechaeli (T, 50k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Mainly Novel with a few CQL and Donghua bits, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Adoption, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, not mpreg, Not Established Relationship, Fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Fix-It, gender non-conforming titles)

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7. Hello! Here's one I've read a dozen times and would swear I have bookmarked, but now I can't find it. Basically, LZ is a courtesan/assassin who's sent by JGS to seduce and kill the powerful Yiling Patriarch. Meng Yao is working with LZ, although he has his own plans against JGS, of course. WWX later realizes LZ's brother is alive and looking for him, so he brings them together. (By the way, are you thinking of adding a Courtesan compilation? There are plenty of good ones to rec!) Thank you! @ladysalieri (we don't have a courtesan au specific comp but we do have a royalty one that includes a few! ^^ - Mod C)

FOUND! out to get you (to get you) by iliacquer (E, 41k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, switching, top/bottom LWJ, top/bottom WWX, power play, courtesan LWJ, assassin LWJ, dark lord WWX, bondage, happy ending, past slavery)

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8. Hello i am looking for a fic where modern lwj time travels to the canon era and becomes original lwj, in the fic he is betrothed to yilling patriarch wy who sends him letters, and wy becomes more desperate and insane because lwj doesn't answers his letters. @ahiku-chan

FOUND? if this is a dream, i pray to never wake up by dangodangomilk (M, 27k, WangXian, Marriage, Weddings, Engagement, Canon Divergence, Parallel Universes, YLLZ WWX, false amnesia, Implied/Referenced Sex, Fluff and Angst, Sexual Content)

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9. hello! i'm looking for a fic from lwj's pov. he runs into wwx (dark) in yiling i think, after burial mounds but before his new body. lwj is horrified by how bad he looks and convinces him to go to an inn (wwx mean), they have sex. during this lwj realizes that wwx's bones are all broken from his fall in the burial mounds and he is holding them stable with resentful energy. he can't heal them, but the resentful energy is working as a stopgap. possibly of it's own volition? bittersweet? thx! @saydams

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10. Hello!! I love this blog, where I find fics to read!! A few days ago, I asked someone to find me a fic, but I'm here again because I remembered med and another fic that I loved reading, but currently can't find.

The things I remember: Wangxian has an spiritual connection, which is why the golden core transfer does not occur (and it is qing who informs Wei Ying of the connection, as Madam Yu knew and gave tea to undo the connection but it did not work ) and if I'm not mistaken Yanli is the one who told Wei Ying that the spiritual connection no longer exists (which is obviously wrong)

If you can't find it, I ask you to recommend something similar.

Thank you ❤💛🖤 @sweettiebah

FOUND! Half of my soul by Asphodel_Meadow (T, 8k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, 5+1 Things, kinda soul bond but with their golden cores, POV Outsider, POV Alternating)

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11. Hi, im looking for a fic where when Wei Wuxian was dead others tried to flirt with Lan Wangji. I remember one of the scenes where Shizui was walking to the jingshi and overherd someone (a cousin of Lan Jingyi?) trying to flirt with Lan Wangji. I think it was a 5+1 type of deal. No matter the way i word it, i cant find it. I`ve been looking on and off for months. @herebedragons02

FOUND? Criteria by incendir (T, 10k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian) Criteria from the Resolutions series! I've reread ot enough to know that description on site

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12. I hope you don't mind me asking, i'm looking for a wangxian fic where there is a scene that takes place in the cloud recesses where jiang cheng injures nie huaisang and nie mingjue almost declares war on the jiang sect. Thats as much as i remember I hope it's enough to go on. If it helps any it was either a Jiang Cheng bashing fic or a Jiang Family bashing. / Hi i'm looking for a Jiang Cheng or Jiang Family Bashing fic (can't remember which it was) where Nie Huaisang gets severely injured by Jiang Cheng and Nie Mingjue almost declares war on the Jiang Sect. Thank you. @hanabichan2018

FOUND? Ad Oblivione by Baph, HikariNoHimeWriter (M, 70k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Identity Reveal, Golden Core Reveal, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Abusive YZY, Angst with a Happy Ending)

FOUND? A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, Not JIang Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

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13. Hello I’ve been looking for this fic but I cannot find it I remember seeing it before it’s where in order to survive the burial mounds WY exchanges his heart which changes how he acts and then at the end JC, JYL, LWJ and NH decide to go to the burial mounds to see what happened to WY

FOUND?🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, wangxian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

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14. Hi! For next fic finder, could you help me find a modern wangxian au with combination of arranged marriage, marriage of convenient (i think it is), and contract marriage. YZY arranged a marriage between WWX and LWJ for a bussiness cooperation. WWX agreed to that so he can get away from the Jiang (especially YZY) and to make his own carrier. Then LWJ and WWX make a contract to make the marriage last until 2 years and decided if they want to keep the marriage or not. I think LWJ playing his guqin and WWX is used to that and when 2 years almost up, WWX didnt want to get divorce. The fic is focused about them getting to know each other. I think thats all i can remember. I read that in 2021 so the detail is kinda patchy. If you dont know the fic at least a confirmation that im not the only one that ever read this. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

Hi, im #14. Unfortunately its not the fic that iam searching for. The one that iam serching for focused on wangxian, other characters barely appears. Even the jiangs only gets mentioned. Wwx didnt work for Jiang, i think he is graphic design freelancer? The agrement for divorce is between the two of them, their family didnt know about their agreement. They choose how long they stay together before divorce after they think that the project between their family is finished so their divorce wont effect the project. WWX even has a plan after their divorce to open his own office. If i remember corectly, WWX realize he didnt want to get divorced is a few days before the day of their divorce. Like he is in his room and thinking that after their divorce, he cant listening to LWJ playing his guqin and spend their days together and he didnt want that.

I really hope i didnt mix several fic together. Thank you!

NOT FOUND! you're the only thing i think i got right by sandustorms (lucianclouds) (M, 48k, wangxian, Arranged Marriage, Falling In Love, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Domestic, Married Life, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, do you remember that fake reddit post abt the guy that fell for his husband, that he was arranged to be married to, that was kind of what inspired this, Happy Ending, Modern, Strangers to Lovers, Romance)

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15. Hello Mods, hope you are having a good day (^ ω ^)

This is for the fic finder and I'm not quite sure about this so just to be safe I don't want to upset anyone so

Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning! Trigger Warning!

This is what I remember: WWX is roofied or SA'ed in the Cloud Recesses ( I don't remember if that is shown) and there's a lot about how he handle it (denial? minimizing? disassociation?), and LWJ is there, he didn't do it, he is good, and anti-victim-blaming? if that makes sense?

FOUND? obscura: ink stain by AvoOwO (M, 20k, wangxian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Emotions, Heavy Angst, Painting, Temporary Amnesia, Drugs, Drug Use, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Drink Spiking, Victim Blaming, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Has a Crush, Soft wangxian, Holding Hands, Blood and Violence, Good Sibling JC, Protective JC, WWX is a Mess, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Protective LXC, Good Sibling LXC, Good Uncle LQR, LQR Tries, OCs, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, WWX Needs a Hug, someone gets punched a lot, LWJ contemplates murder for a moment, JC almost gets it done, not quite about romance, as much as romance elements there, more so about the small things, LWJ loves how WWX smells, some nasty things are said, WWX def needs a nap, he gets one dw, LQR Gets Shit Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Scheming NHS)

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16. Hi! For fic finder, I am looking for a short-ish fic where Jin Ling learns that Wei Wuxian is the one who named him “Rulan.” Jin Ling then realizes he is named after the Lans, and he has a teenage meltdown about how he is named after his uncle’s crush. Does this sound familiar? Thank you, everyone, for all your help! @gloriousclotpole

FOUND! three days gone by occultings (microcomets) (G, 4k, JL & WWX, WangXian, Post-Canon, Family Bonding, Homophobic Language, Fluff) there may be a few fics that fit, is it maybe the one where jin ling and jiang cheng are reading sect letters together, and jin ling got mad about being called "rulan"? so far i found another fic, ig it's "similar" since jin ling's only mad for one sentence, but i thought to link it anyway

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17. Hi! I'm looking for a fic, but i only remember a specific scene from it: wwx and the wens on the horses and it's raining and lan zhan lets them go, but then i guess granny wen says go back and get him, and when they return, lan zhan is soaking wet and she says something along the lines of 'dramatic young people'. Thank you so much!

FOUND? Turn Around by mondengel (Not rated, <1k, wangxian, humor)

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18. Hi, I'm looking for an AU WIP fic where WWX has to wear a mask; nobody but family is allowed to see his face. He and LWJ have an arranged marriage, but LWJ still refuses to let him take his mask off, and doesn't make any effort in the marriage. Very soon after they are married, he takes Wen Qing as a concubine, without explaining anything to WWX. WWX moves to a house near Lotus Pier, and there is a bit about him adopting children, but I can't remember how that came about... Thank you! @godiva696

FOUND! Sounds like the deleted "A price to pay" by wangxianist.

Not FOUND! sounds sorta like shana's identity porn fic here on tumblr

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19. Hello! 😃 I hope you can help me find this fic that I have been looking for!

I only remember that Wei Wuxian gets reunited with the sect leader of the Yu sect,(she is basically his grandma I think) and he get very emotional, it is also at a discussion conference or something like that, it is a very sweet/happy scene.

thank you 😊

NOT FOUND!🔒补救; to remedy, to do something to correct or improve something that is wrong by ravenditefairylights (G, 21k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Angst, Healing, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Getting Together, Everybody Gets Their Shit Together, Family Feels, Teacher WWX, Soft WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Marriage Proposal, Assassination Attempt(s), Family Bonding, soup as a metaphor, Meishan as a metaphor, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Forgiveness, BAMF WWX, Assassin WWX) i'm not positive this is it, but has a scene like that

Not FOUND And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 139k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) has a wwx-Sect Leader Yu relationship a bit like that? They meet up in Meishan, though, it's not a conference

Not FOUND The Housewife's Guide to Causing Chaos by dvasva (M, 127k, WIP, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Functionally Trans Character, Mild Sexual Content, Domestic Fluff, Love Confessions, Transphobia, Good Parents LWJ and WWX, Pining, WWX is a Tease, Grief/Mourning, Body Dysphoria, Fake Marriage, Canonical Character Death, Misunderstandings, Doting LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is not in MXY's body, Misgendering, Mild Angst, Assumptions, Comedic Elements, non-sexual nudity, Blood, Discussion of Various Bodily Functions, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, 4 years of mourning instead of 13, Méishān Yú Sect, POV Multiple, Corporal Punishment, Trans WWX, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, pregnancy mention, Timeline What Timeline, Sexual Harassment Threats) has wwx summoned by an OC Yu cousin instead of mxy, so there is some wwx-Yu sect interactions in the story. I don't remember it being particularly sweet or happy, but the setting is a conference

Not FOUND Moments of Revelation by meyari (T, 133k, ChengSang, WangXian, XiYao, POV JC, Canon Divergence, Temporary Character Death, Character Death, not anyone we care about, Time Travel Fix-It, Self-Sacrifice, Torture, Chronic Pain, Chronic anxiety, magical healing and how it fails, Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Chronic Mental Health Issues, Assassination, renamed my, Families of Choice, Original Supporting characters, Unreliable Narrator(s), Demonic Possession) last suggestion, and this probably isn't it, but it has a lot of Yunmeng Trio & Yu sect interactions (mostly Jiang Cheng centric, but wwx is there too lol)

FOUND! Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics) the reunion scene is on ch31

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20. Hello! I’m looking for a fic where during the Sunshot Campaign, Wei Wuxian was able to tame the Xuanwu, resulting in victory. However, he wasn’t fully able to control its bloodlust so it was sequestered onto an island in Lotus Pier.

However, he leaves one day for a brief visit to Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli, JGS paid a child to visit the island and the child is killed. This causes WWX to go with the Xuanwu into the water surrounding the island and he disappears for many years.

Later on, Jin Ling ends up trying to prove himself by going into the forest surrounding this island (which has since filled with resentful energy). And finds that WWX has come back and the Xuanwu has been purified.

I’m not sure if it’s been deleted??

FOUND? The Turtle Master by Gotcocomilk (M, 40k, wangxian, JC & WWX, JL & WWX, Eventual Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Temporary Character Death, Character Death Fix, shijie lives, Hurt/Comfort, OC Child death, zombie turtle!!, BAMF WWX, isnt he always, Fluff and Angst, first half is pain second half is soft)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

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