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pinkrelish · 2 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶When Eddie gets a call at work telling him Adrie is sick, he rushes to pick her up from school, accidentally leaving his black notebook behind. Being you, you find the means to return it to him. But while at his trailer, you ask him the question he's been avoiding for months.

"Let's get down to those rumors, hm?"✶

NSFW — strong tw for a dark conversation surrounding eddie's past (accusations of murder, rape), heavy angst, comfort, drug/alcohol mention/use, slow burn, fluff, flirting, 18+ overall for eventual smut

chapter: 8/20 [wc: 14.1k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 8: The Munson Name

Leave it to Eddie to make your day special not two minutes into work.

Upon entering the garage, the back door was ajar as usual, but instead of phantom wisps of smoke swimming in the sunshaft, a shadow moved, and Eddie’s arm curled around to knock on the aluminum siding for your attention. His chain bracelet clinked from the motion, and his rings caught the light as he gestured for you to come over.

You peeked through the opening and saw him standing against the wall, but his morning smile wasn’t aimed at you, it was elsewhere, off to the side. You wrapped your fingers around the doorknob, and followed where he was looking.

A bright red cardinal sat perched on the round side mirror of Eddie’s car, chirping and hopping while fluttering its wings, spinning around in search of something, and after several twittering singsongs, it flew away.

“That was precious,” you whispered, breath fogging in awe.

“I’m glad you got to see him before he took off.” Eddie grabbed the door from you and pushed you both inside, shaking his arms in an intense shiver, and shrugging his jacket up around his neck while he hugged his hands around himself in his pockets. “Uhm..”

The goofy smile he wore was mutual, as was the dear silence. The energy between you had changed; it was charged with a new development in your relationship. One that did not need to be articulated in words. It was there, in his well-rested eyes owning a playful gleam when you looked at him, and his need to rock from foot to foot in a measured sway, like a subconscious impulse to recreate that beautiful night.

Then, he cleared his throat. You averted your gaze to the floor.

“You, uh, you said it was one gift,” he recalled with an audible wince squeezing the oxygen from his sentence.

Unsure on how best to approach you buying his daughter a generous amount of presents, and hearing the impassive edge to his voice, you shut one eye and opted for a joke, “It was one gift.. bag.”

“It was too much.”

Your demeanor sagged. “Oh.”

“No, no! Not in the bad way–No.”

You perked up. “Oh?”

A soft laugh poured from the snuggly place he had his chin tucked behind the tan canvas. He dropped his shoulders, and drove his weight forward into jaunty little steps towards you, closing the gap between your bodies. There were affectionate nuances to his fond expression when he corrected himself, “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound that way. The gifts were great. Like, real home runs. Uhm, she loved them, and they were really thoughtful. Just.. really sweet of you.” Immersing himself in the steady eye contact you were both proud to uphold, he licked his lips, and raised his eyebrows. “You’re so sweet, in fact, it’s piling onto that thank you I owe you at a ridiculous rate.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I just like doing things for you and Adrie. Besides, I live rent free in a tiny town with an abysmal lack of nighttime entertainment for me to waste my money on, so I figured why not spoil my favorite four-year-old.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know I don’t owe you, but” –he moved his hand around in his pocket– “I’m gonna figure out a way to repay you. Do something nice for you. Something big. Until then, your favorite almost-five-year-old made you this.”

He presented his palm to you. Cradled in it was a bracelet made of plastic beads in an assortment of colors, some shaped as stars, some with glitter, and at the middle was a name arranged in white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I had to help her spell it,” he said, tugging up his sleeve, “but it matches mine.” D-A-D-D-Y.

There was no masking the effect the bracelet had on you; breath hitched on a raw noise, chest falling on the exhale, muscles tensed on the cusp of a bigger reaction–but you tamped down the wealth of feeling wanted, and spoke beyond the heaviness in your heart, through the strain in your throat, and behind the blurriness of tears, “A true Adrie Original. I love it, tell her thank you for me.”

You slid the elastic band over your trembling left hand. He wore his on his right.

Eddie leaned in to get a better look at you, and the amusement in his face was replaced by genuine surprise. “Are you crying?”

You crossed your arms over your chest and gripped your shoulders, laughing, smiling through the embarrassment of being caught. “Maybe! It’s–It’s really sweet.”

“I’m gonna tell her you cried!”

“Don’t!” you yelped, running away from his evil fingers advancing towards your ribs.

“But it’s cute!”

“Stop chasing me!”

Luckily for you, refuge was on the other side of the glass door you managed to lock before he could grab the handle. You guarded your safe space with a glare. He pouted, and said something. You cupped your ear. He grew more passionate, flapping his lips at a rapid rate and putting his hands up in a prayer, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. You shouted you’d only let him in if he apologized for making fun of you. “I’m sorry.” The sincerity was lost on his smirk, but you gave in so you could make coffee and get to work, and so he could get said coffee and take your pen cup and put it just out of reach on the ledge of your desk while on his way out to the garage.

And unluckily for you, the first thing on your to-do list after the break was checking the flashing buttons on the phone. You picked up the receiver, pressed the playback for messages, and listened with a pen hovered over your new set of index cards.

The first one began with a startled, “U-uhm, right.”

The second one began with a confused laugh.

The third was a long pause before telling someone else in the room they’d try again later.

Dread pooled in your stomach. The recording button. The fucking recording button for an outgoing message taunted you. Faded yellow, and ugly.

With a clenched jaw, you prepared your racing heart, and pressed it. And oh God. You covered your eyes, more and more mortified as it played.

“We’re currently closed for the Holidays, and will open at 8AM, Mon–” Raspberry. “You! Why! That one was perfect. God, you are so–freaking–annoying. I swear. Obnoxious little..”

————

Standing at a respectable distance from where Eddie sat at the breakroom table with his notebook, you held up three calendars for the new year. “I’m replacing the one in the garage. Which do you want? Mythical Creatures drawn by Eric Carle, Coca Cola, or hot chicks posing on sports cars?”

He dropped his head back, and tipped his chair to balance on its rear legs. His bangs fell, showing his wrinkled forehead as he looked at you upside down. “Interesting options,” he commented.

“The mall didn’t have much left.” A lie. The calendar kiosk at the mall was stocked to the brim, you just had a hunch Eddie would go for one in particular.

“Does the mythical creature one have a dragon for a month?”

“Yes,” you said without checking.

“I’ll take that one, then.”

Predictable.

“Cool, I’ll give Mr. Moore the hot chicks, and I’ll take the Coke for me.” Speaking of–the front desk phone was ringing, and it was in your job description to answer it, you supposed.

You left him to get back to his writing, and put the receiver to your ear. The voice on the other end was politely stressed in the customer-friendly way. You left it in the cradle on hold, and called down the hallway, “Hey, Eddie, it’s Adrie’s school calling for you. I’m sure–” Stumbling out of his way, his jacket softened the blow of his shoulder knocking into you. He reached his hand back in an apologetic gesture, but his focus manifested in the flash of panic crossing his pale face. “I’m sure she’s fine,” you finished sympathetically.

He answered the woman on the line, and you waited along the wall, eyeing the scuff marks around the floorboards you should probably buff off at some point, and after his short conversation, he hung up.

“Adrie’s sick,” he said quickly, patting down his jacket. “Wayne’s not answering the phone, so I gotta go pick her up, and uh, I–” He pivoted in a circle, glancing around, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “I–I’m sorry. She needs me.”

You drew your eyebrows in, and waved him off. “Yeah, it’s okay. You can leave. I’ll clock you out and let Carl know when he’s back from lunch.”

“Thank you,” he said in breathless earnest, leaving so quickly his boots left black streaks on the tile.

~~~

Lunch came and went. Carl came and went. The end of the hour posted under the CLOSED sign came and went. Eddie had yet to call the shop to update you, which was fine and dandy (aside from your anxiety over whether or not Adrie was okay), but in his rush, he left behind something important..

His black notebook with the devil-horned skull laid in the middle of the table like an ominous item from a horror movie.

And much like the horror movies, you as the final girl should leave it alone, right? Just.. walk away, and forget about it, and leave it for him to pick it up tomorrow, or whenever he’s able to come back to work..

But.

You were worried about Adrie, and when you went to the garage to replace the trash can liners, you saw his rings still on the black tray near the tool cabinet. Now, it’s not like he needed those either, however, what if you just.. returned them for him? And the notebook fell open while you were at it?

It was wrong. Everything about what you were doing was all so very, very wrong. Going inside Mr. Moore’s office and flipping the lightswitch, making your way to his desk in an innocent saunter, and–oops!–kneeling down to pick up a stray pen, and if the bottom drawer happened to be opened, and the plastic folder with the employee’s details from when he hired them was inside, who could blame you for taking the quickest, tiniest glance before closing it?

Yours was in there, of course, along with–

“Edward Munson,” you snorted. “Dorky name.” Duh his full name was Edward, but it was still funny to see.

You read over the top of the file where his address and phone number were. Thankfully, from your various car rides with Robin, you recognized the street name, placing it in your memories as the rusted sign next to the Forest Hills Trailer Park entrance.

The phone number you imprinted into your brain as a recreational activity, and put the folder away.

Closing the door behind you with a hefty jingle of heavy rings in your pocket, you approached the notebook, and gave it a pitied sigh. Having committed many sins in the past minute alone, you figured why not. You didn’t even feel shame opening the stupid thing after months of being teased by it. Besides, what’s the worst he could be hiding in it? It couldn’t be that embarrassing, right?

..Right?

“Okay, can honestly say I was not expecting a big tittied bird lady.” The drawing wasn’t overly detailed, but the artistry was above average. Small details etched the feathers covering her avian legs, and a gleam shone on her talons coming to a sharp point, posed to attack with milky white irises. Above her was Eddie’s stylized font: HARPY, with abbreviations and numbers in a column. His rushed handwriting filled the rest of the page. Reading it over, it appeared you opened to the middle of a story.

Thumbing through, you encountered your first dog-eared page.

IF CHEST IS CHOSEN, GO B

IF DOOR - ROLL FROM INDEX CHART POISON

Absolutely lost, you did see a box labeled B further down with a short bullet point list of what would happen, and more options to choose from on the next dog-eared section.

Flipping deeper towards the back, it was pages and pages of his handwriting. Names of characters fighting dragons. Fantasy towns housing creatures you’d never heard of. Countries with too many syllables and apostrophes. Whatever it was, you were more than happy to hop on your bike and ride it over to the trailer park, only second guessing your sense of direction three times, and releasing a grateful, “Thank God,” when you spotted it up ahead.

The place had an eeriness to it despite the slanted beams of afternoon sun gracing it in gold. Homes were tarnished with dents and algae staining the outside. Trailers slumped on their cinderblocks, buckling under the weight. RVs had permanent brush growing under their parking spots. A child’s scream echoed around the tree-less lot, but you couldn’t see them through the orderless blockade of dilapidated residences and abandoned cars. People watched you: glancing out their windows, or gathered around a charcoal barbeque. Curious eyes followed your trail down the main road. Bumping your bike around potholes, avoiding tetanus ridden nails and petrified clothes molded to the ground as if they’d been there for years.

Dogs walked their fences as you passed.

You were beginning to have some regrets when a beacon welcomed you. After a curve, an old van parked out front of a blue and white trailer came into view, but more importantly, dwarfed next to the Chevy behemoth, was a black car you’d recognize the red interior of anywhere.

The heat of parent’s concerned stares burned into the back of your neck as you rode up to the concrete stairs, leaned your bike against the metal handrail, and approached your fate.

Even though you were absolutely sure this was the correct address, you knocked with as much confidence as a dormouse. Any harder and the sound of your knuckles striking the aluminum would’ve been too loud in the creepy-quiet trailer park.

No answer.

You knocked again. Harder. Louder.

There was movement inside. Footsteps. A muffled voice. Your heart leapt. In your throat. Closer. Closer. This was so stupid. This was a mistake. This was a bad idea. The excuse in your mouth was weak, and you were about to embarrass yourself in front of your coworker by surprising him at his house, which you only knew where to find because you were snooping, and there was no amount of explaining that would help you out of your spot in hell–

Eddie swung open the door, and his heavy-browed, distrustful, annoyed, apprehensive, suspicious glare jumped to wide-eyed shock.

Your cheeks went hot.

“Nope!”

You winced at the slam, but nothing–no God’s will, no Devil’s agreement–would convince you to blink at the shuttered window where he once stood. No. No, no, no. No, never. Never would you want the searing glimpse at Eddie’s naked chest out of your sight before it was engraved into every second of every day of every night of every dream for the rest of your years.

In some part of your mind, you knew your gazes connected long enough to see the blood drain from his face, but your attention was soon urged downward, to the overwhelming amount of skin.

His hair was tied back, exposing a poetry of shadows. Hollow of his throat, to his clavicle, to the swell of his shoulders. Biceps twitching under a prominent vein when he caught himself on the trailer’s frame, and gripped the door handle. Muscles straining with fear, then soft with relief, then strong with fear again when he realized it was you who caught him in this shirtless state, discovering the beautiful line between his pecs when he flexed. Witnessing the fine wisps of softly auburn hair on his chest, juxtaposed to the wiry dark curls creating a blessed trail to the top of his sweatpants. Drooling over the eclectic collection of tattoos sporadically placed over his body. Too many to decipher in the brief encounter, aside from the dragon crawling up a sword etched into the subtle planes of his abs and curving around his slight stomach, with the blade ending at his waistband–a full picture of the tattoo you spied at the grocery store when he stretched his arms above his head.

The door creaked open again, and you’d yet to recover. But thinly obscured in the darkness of his home, he was visibly flustered as well.

Eddie hunched over, struggling to get the zipper of his tan jacket up, tugging it harshly, grinding the metal teeth in his anxious fight to cover his chest; and when it was snug to the splotchy kiss of pink on his neck, he squinted at you. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, voice gone hoarse from his dry mouth.

Knees locked, and oh so staring him directly in the eyes, you took the black notebook from under your arm (not remembering when you tucked it there), and showed it to him. “You left this at work.”

He took it from you slowly without a thanks.

“And, uh,” you continued, gathering the clinking jewelry in your jacket. “These too.” You dropped them into his cupped palm, brushing your pinky over a scratchy callus, experiencing the zing of intimacy of skin on skin.

And he felt it too, with how he curled his fingers in to seal the fleeting sensation.

Pocketing his rings, he stood meek in his doorway. The pain of expecting someone different to be knocking at his trailer had dwindled, but the tension was there in between his eyebrows, weighing on the slope of his gentle frown, painting brilliant highlights on the long line of his nose in the blazing dayglow threatening to invade his home.

The dull brown of his eyes glinted aside the honey as his mouth hung slightly open, tip of his tongue curled against the pearly dam of his teeth. The lined pages of the well worn notebook fanned out, flopping in his grip. “Did you read what was in here?”

Shifting your gaze to the sharp edge of the tin roof decorated in elaborate dangly fish hooks, you clasped your hands behind your back in a cute way, and delivered the answer he awaited with an inflection like it was a question, “No..?”

“For an actress, you’re bad at lying.”

“Or I’m being obvious on purpose so you tell me what it is.”

Working his jaw back and forth, he bided his time, each grind a consideration at his options in regards to how vulnerable he should be, and if this would be the final nail in the corroded coffin where you’d realize what a giant loser he was. “It’s..” You leaned towards him in interest, and he looked away. “It’s notes and stuff for Dungeons and Dragons,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Nerd! Nerd!” You jumped up and down, pointing, shouting, “I knew it! You’re a nerd!”

Twisting his mouth in a sarcastic sneer at your childishness, he snatched the side of the door and began shutting you out. “Okay, okay. I get it. See why I didn’t want to tell you?”

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” you exhaled, switching on a dime from your teasing to a serious tone. You caught the door, and pleaded for him to stop being an idiot, “I knew you were a dweeb when you held me hostage for an entire thirteen minute lecture about your song lyrics. The Dungeons and Dragons shit is the third least surprising thing you’ve ever told me.” You clasped your hand over your heart. “Truly.”

“What’s the second?”

“Your music tastes.”

“And the first?” he asked, despite his better judgment.

“That you’re single.”

He announced his displeasure in a deadpan expression. “And I’m beginning to see why you are, too–” All of him went rigid, withdrawing slightly into the trailer with his head lowered, ear angled towards the right of him, listening as his gaze went unfocused.

After a few seconds, his lungs reawakened with a relieved breath. “Just coughing,” he said to himself. Dragging his attention back to you, he gestured weakly at his jacket to indicate his lack of clothing, still embarrassed at the situation. “Adrie, uh.. She puked on me earlier. That’s why I wasn’t–uhm–dressed.”

Worry edged its way into your question, “Is she okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s fine. Kids get sick from daycare all the time. Basically just sentient germs running around, licking their hands after touching everything.”

Your eyebrows ticked up at the memory of the awful Dayquil hangovers following the weekends you worked as a clown for children’s birthday parties.

You asked, “And what about Wayne?”

“Hm? Oh.” Recognition, and the ease of a casual conversation overtook the near-permanent anticipatory hardness to his features, softening his bristly nature around you; finding you comforting when he was in the place where he was supposed to feel safest, but didn’t.

Home wasn’t home for Eddie Munson, and you felt that icy statement behind your ribs as you watched him pat his pocket as a way to check his rings were there for reassurance, acutely aware there was an hostile world at your back, and you chose to only see each other.

There was a tender innocence to his lip crooking up in a lopsided grin as he remembered you asked him a question. “Typical old man. Wayne was outside and didn’t hear the phone ring, that’s why he didn’t answer. He’s at work now, though.”

“Mm,” you hummed. “Do you have soup?”

“Soup?”

“For Adrie,” you clarified.

He glanced over his shoulder, assumingly at the kitchen, and after some mental deduction, he shrugged in vague nonchalance. “Yeah, there’s probably soup for her.” As if you didn’t know him well enough at this point to read past the nervous habits weaving their way into his fidgety unsureness.

You backed down the stairs as you spoke, “Okay. Well then, guess I’ll get going since you have everything on lock down here. Got your sick kid, got your soup, got your notebook, and your uncle’s at work. Sounds like everything’s in order.” Hopping off the last step, you swung around the handrail and guided your bike to the road, beaming. “See ya!”

“Yeah, see ya,” he replied, settling into his usual side-ways glance around the trailer park, challenging the gawkers who watched a girl willingly walk up to his home and leave it smiling. They did not dare to say anything, of course; returning to their lives with sealed lips, pretending to pay him no mind. Just how it should be.

He held his chin high.

————

And when Eddie next answered the door, it was in the low blue hue of a setted sun, and he did so in his black jeans and a white tank top. His unzipped work jacket swayed prettily around his torso, low bun at his nape loosened to a mess, short curls in a frizz over his ears, and cheeks flushed. “I figured you’d be back,” he forced out evenly, doing his best to disguise his panting breaths.

You hugged the brown paper grocery bags to your chin, and grinned.

He stuck his foot behind him in an awkward curtsy, and swept his arm for you to enter.

Walking into his place for the first time there were many things to comprehend, absorb, fawn over, and ask about until he was tired of explaining their origins–and since you were already crossing an entire notebook’s worth of lines today, you inquired about the most obvious. “You, uh, like collecting hats and mugs?”

“They’re Wayne’s,” he grunted, unplugging the vacuum he left in the middle of the living room by yanking the cord out of the wall, and dragging it on his way to the hallway closet where he kicked and shoved things aside to make room, rattling the thin door that definitely had been punched through at one point, patched and painted over, and was now a canvas for crayon squiggles along the bottom. “Before he worked at the power plant, he was a trucker. Collected them at every rest stop in every state, that sorta thing.”

“Ah.”

In a quick spin, he surveyed the rest of the trailer, and made a similar “ah” sound when he saw the cleaning products and balled up paper towels on the tiny table squeezed against the wall. He lunged for them, stuffing the evidence and other garbage into the overflowing trash can. “I still keep up the tradition by getting him a mug for Christmas.” Jerking his chin at the shelf above him, he specified the one on the end. “This year was Looney Tunes.”

“How cute.” The bags crinkled in your arms as you stood in the entryway, nodding expectantly.

“Shit–Sorry.”

You smiled. He finished clearing a space on the wrap-around kitchen counter for you to set the groceries down, scooting a candle out of the way, flickering the flame he may have burnt himself on while lighting, if the red mark on his thumb was anything to go by. And he was back to pivoting, scanning the area, desperate to latch onto the object which would jog his memory on where he was in his cleaning: dishes dripped in the drying rack, Wayne’s grilled cheese endeavor was out of sight, the bathroom radiated the nose-burning scent of bleach.

He snapped his fingers at the overflowing trash can, and almost slipped in his frenzy to tie up the bag and rush for his boots, saying he’ll be right back on his way out, leaping down the stairs.

“Alrighty..”

The steady rumble of a washing machine rattled every loose bit of metal in the museum of belongings.

You waged war with your tennis shoes, wiggling out of them with the laces still tied, and stepped off the carpet dividing the trailer in half. The bubbling vinyl kitchen floor stuck to your socks, still damp from being mopped, and heaved the groceries onto the pale blue countertop, sliding them across decades worth of scratches scarring the material. Once you were sure you could let them go without a toppling situation, you took the goods out one at a time, but your attention was nosy and undivided.

Acting as foreground to the walls of hats and mugs was the rest of Eddie’s life. Laundry baskets occupied a couch with flattened cushions. A coffee table supported stacks of his daughter’s playthings after picking them out of the vacuum’s path. There was a fold out bed in the corner, and a modest TV situated on top of a VCR. To compensate for the lack of overhead light was an abundance of mismatched lamps on each surface.

It was a hodge podge, and it was cramped, and it was incomprehensible, and it was his house.

Turning, you began to guess at which cabinets he would store a bag of rice when you spotted the artwork hanging on the fridge.

Pinned under a teddy bear magnet was a decoupaged version of your Thanksgiving turkeys, cut out and glued to a single piece of construction paper, complete with the castle in the background. And secured safely under a smiley face magnet was a stick figure drawing of two people–one in a pink dress, one in all black scribble–and dated in neat ink by someone with less messy handwriting: 5/7/92.

Eddie came back to your wide grin, and two cans of baked beans held up in a question.

“They go over here,” he said, nodding at the skinny door next to where he stood at the small green table set for three chairs, organizing today’s mail in his hand.

You opened the pantry next to the recessed oven, and stacked the rest of the cans inside. Towards the back there were two white cereal boxes with plain blue text and nothing else, leaving you to deduce no one in his family stooped to eating unsweetened cornflakes even if that’s all they had. Meanwhile, he arranged overdue bills into a ladder style letter holder hung on the wall beside the phone, periodically taking one out and placing it down a rung, ordering them from most to least important.

“I was supposed to go grocery shopping yesterday, but I had to buy and install a new hot water heater,” he told you suddenly. Whether he was saying this because he was coasting on the fumes of his Christmas bonus until December’s child support arrived, or because he was simply too busy to go shopping, neither of you addressed it more than necessary. He accepted your help, and you didn’t pry.

“Unexpected shit sucks, huh?” you added for his benefit.

“Yeah,” he huffed in a short laugh, playing the same game.

And it was him who rested his forearms on the edge of the pale blue wrap-around counter, watching you commit good deed after good deed, guessing where groceries went in the cabinets, acclimating to his kitchen’s set up, and making room for a bag of grapes and three apples between his six pack of Pabst and block of Government cheese.

“Can I ask you kind of a weird question?”

You brightened at his voice, teetering on the edge of a smile just from that alone. “Always.”

He drew absent-minded circles with his finger as he tried to find the best way to word something he wondered about since the week you met. “When you saw Adrie for the first time, you had this really, uh, surprised look on your face.. Why was that?”

Your tone was dismissive in the wake of something that appeared to haunt him, “Oh, that?” You folded down the empty paper bags, and placed them on top of the fridge after he said Adrie would use them for arts and crafts. “Well, it’s like, Mr. Moore has dozens of pictures of his family on his desk, and Carl told me–approximately–ten different stories about his sons an hour after meeting him, and Kevin carries pictures of his dogs in his wallet. It just seemed like if you had a daughter, you would’ve shown me a picture too, like most dads.” You waved your hands around, and contorted your mouth in a silly manner. “I mean, it was just weird you never mentioned her.”

He took your assessment to heart, and opened the drawer closest to him. Amongst the clutter of junk was his black wallet resting on a coiled chain with clips on either end. Taking out the cheap leather, he cradled the width in his palm, and wiggled out a picture kept sealed behind a plastic window. He said, “Actually, I do carry a picture of her,” and handed it to you.

On instinct, you pored over the image of him first, prizing the crown of his head sporting the same wild haircut. He had his face tipped down to the newborn wrapped in a pink blanket in his arms, crooking her in their safety as he held a bottle to her lips. His knees were on display behind his ripped black jeans. His shirt was sleeveless. She was tiny and precious. He was decidedly emotionless from what you could see, sat on a couch that was not the same as the one across the room from you.

“That was taken at Harrington’s place,” he answered your unstated question, keen to the recognition washing over your face as you placed it as Nancy’s ugly pink floral loveseat.

You gave it back to him.

He looked over the captured moment in time, bleak gaze set on his little girl when she was so fragile, and small, and when he was so weak, and teetering on a long overdue breakdown.

“It took me a long time to carry this around,” he said, tone heavy with disappointment, regret, and shame. “Wayne and I were fighting constantly. And I mean, I don’t blame him. He gave up his life to take care of me when I was twelve, and I put so many gray hairs on his head that he went bald from my bullshit, and then there I was, bringing home a screaming infant I didn’t know the first thing about taking care of. Y’know, just proving I was a fuck-up right when he thought I was smart enough to get my act together.“ Tracing the sharp edge of the photo trimmed to fit his wallet, he placed it in its windowed slot and tossed it back in the drawer, closing the past from his sight. “I don’t have a lot of good memories from that time. Shit fucking sucked.”

“I can imagine,” was all you could say.

“I love her,” he said in the event you doubted him.

“I know you do,” you offered in return.

Steering the conversation in a different direction, you swung your index fingers at the extensive cabinetry, and asked, “Where’s a cutting board?” Right of the sink, he answered. “And a knife?” Top drawer next to your hip, he responded. But it took until you shook out the washed celery stalk, and snapped the ribs off, lining them up on the white plastic cutting board did he become suspicious.

He leaned more of his weight on his forearms, and kept his tone carefully neutral, “What’re you doing?”

Keeping your expression indifferent aside from your arched brows, you cut the celery into manageable sticks and began slicing them lengthways. “I believe I’m in Edward Munson’s trailer making him and his daughter soup.”

The crimson guitar pick at the end of his necklace swung forward, jostled from where it was stuck to the healthy sheen of sweat glistening along the top of his chest. “How do you know my full name?”

“A little birdie told me.”

He shifted his shoulders, head lowered, eyes narrowed, voice deep, “Better question. How do you know where I live?”

“A bigger birdie told me.”

“Someone told you about me?”

Rightfully confused, you pulled a face. “Huh? No. I was kidding. No one talks to me. Anyway, back to the soup.” You harnessed all your charm into impressing him by meeting his stare while you diced the celery, using your knuckles as guidance. “Are there any vegetables she won’t eat? Or stuff she’s allergic to?” Your flagrant insolence irked him: reading his notebook, inviting yourself to his residence, filling the voids in his kitchen with groceries, and now making him soup without ever asking if he wanted you to do those things.

Because of course he wanted you to do those things.

He surrendered to your kindness. “No allergies, and she’ll eat anything as long as it’s diced small–Yeah, like that–and cooked down to mush. It’s the one thing she’s always been good about.”

“And you?”

It took a few sad seconds for him to understand you were asking about his allergies and his preferences, not used to his needs being taken into consideration. “No, no, whatever you make is good. Uhm. Hey, you don’t have to do all of this. Don’t roll your eyes, I’m being serious. Adrie’s sick and I don’t want you to catch what she has.”

“Please,” you implored in thick sarcasm, “I’ve been coughed on by every disease known to man on the Q train. There’s not a cold or flu in existence I haven’t succumbed to. I’m immune at this point.”

You found a stock pot from the cabinet at the junction of the wrap-around counter and the sink, and set it on the cooktop to come to heat while you peeled and chopped an onion. Eddie dwelled in his observations; listening to you recount tales of working in kitchens because they were always hiring, collecting horror stories from being a dishwasher, a waitress, a morning food prepper; moving from title to title; birthday clown, bartender, craft store cashier. Flighty, flighty, flighty. He watched your hands move in quick chops and long sweeps down a carrot with skill he didn’t have the patience nor time to learn. He told you as much, how when he comes home he’s fucking tired, and doesn’t have the energy to make dinner.

“Now what’re you doing, sweetheart?” he asked in what he hoped was an exhausted tone, but he knew it was futile. The timidness was there, sneaking its way into his words when he made the leap to calling you an endearment in his own home. And how could he not when you pulled out a stack of tupperware, divided the piles of chopped vegetables between them, and wedged them into the freezer, still tending to the sweating mirepoix with a wooden spoon.

“It’s so next time you want soup they’re all ready to go. You don’t have to waste time cutting vegetables. Just dump a container in a pot and add broth and noodles, and call it a night.”

He made a fond noise in the back of his throat, looking at you through his lashes. “You’re really doing everything in your power to extort me for this ‘thank you’ I owe you, aren’t you?”

“You’re the one who promised me something good,” you reminded him.

Water splashed, sputtered in the pot, steaming into a cloud of savory humidity, filling the living space with earthy aromatics. You added bouillon cubes, and stirred the stock together while turning the dial on high to bring the soup to a boil.

“Yeah, guess I did,” he said, petering out into a mumble, straying further from the current topic. He wasn’t finished talking about the previous one yet, and he made it known.

Tracing his thumb along his plump bottom lip, he tested a boundary, tiptoeing into a realm he did his best to ignore. “So, uh, you employ the same strategy with jobs as you do dating, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” you grinned. “Having an endless well of stories about shitty customers to pull from is perfect for stand up. Everyone loves the perpetually single girl who works in service or retail, and just can’t seem to find the love of her life, despite going on an insane amount of first dates with New York’s most average. It’s funny, and relatable.”

“And now you’re stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state.”

You released a sugary, syrupy, sweet giggle. “And now I’m stuck as a boring receptionist in a nowhere town in a nowhere state, and it’s the longest job I’ve ever held.”

His eyelashes fluttered from the nerves–the strong ache in his chest pressing down on him, stealing his breath. “And what about the dates? Gone on any with Hawkins’ finest?”

“Just one.” Though your back was to him while you washed and dried the cutting board, your smile was outlined in your banter. “But it was awful,” you emphasized in a dramatic sigh. “Worst date ever. He drank my Icee, wouldn’t stop talking during the movie, and, get this! He didn’t even tell me I was pretty. Not once.”

“What a jerk,” he agreed fullheartedly, scrunching his nose and twisting a curl of his hair over his stupidly smitten grin. “Sounds like a real asshole.”

“Actually, he was my favorite,” you corrected him, turning down the dial to where the coils lost their fluorescent glow. “Huge, huge nerd. Like, the biggest dork ever, but he was definitely my favorite out of any of my dates.” On your way to the green table, you bent close to his ear, and begged him in a whisper, “But don’t tell him I said that. He’ll get a real big ego about it.”

He made a zipping motion over his mouth.

“Soups gotta simmer until the potatoes are done. Might as well sit.”

He unzipped his mouth. “When did you cut up potatoes?”

“When you were staring at me all dreamy-like,” you supplied, words dipped in coy and flirt.

Undecided on which way to balk at your claim, he did them all: rolled his eyes, clicked his tongue, muttered a small “was not,” and slung himself into his usual chair at the table. He expected you to do the same, to match his silly theatrics with your own impassioned eye roll and smirk, but you didn’t. You sat across from him, poised, hands clasped together with the black notebook beside you.

The mood of the evening dipped visibly in your serious gaze set on him.

You tapped your knuckle on the metal spirals binding the worn pages of his latest campaign together. “No more secrets,” you punctuated. Three short words let go on an exhale. Three little words standing taller than the final barrier he built to keep others out. Not an ask, but a necessity if you were going to continue your relationship–platonic or not.

Your posture and expression were stern, but gentled by patience. “Let’s get to those rumors, hm.”

It was time.

No going back.

Whatever happens, happens.

Eddie took a shaky breath, and invited you over to the vulnerable truth. “Has anyone ever told you anything about me? Not like Harrington’s stories, but actual rumors?”

You shook your head. Between spending most of your time at work, or at Robin’s place, you didn’t have much opportunity to speak to random people, apart from small talk. And chit chatting about the weather was nowhere near as grave as what rooted itself in the solemn slow blink wherein he closed his eyes, and dipped his head.

“I’ll tell you everything, but can I ask you not to say anything while I explain?” he hesitated, knowing how it sounded. “I don’t know how else to word that to make it less rude, but this shit is difficult for me to talk about, and I’ll probably ramble, and go on tangents, and jump around the timeline, but, please, don’t interrupt me or say anything until I’m finished, okay? I don’t want to forget any of the details, and have to discuss this again. Can we do that?”

Digging your thumbnails harder into the flesh of your fingers, you agreed to the terms with a solid nod.

He swallowed. And when his tongue remained too thick in his dry mouth, he swallowed again, and sat up straight, pressing his back into the chair. “Okay.”

Two anxious stomachs twisted at once.

He cast his vacant stare around the room; never allowing it to land on you. This conversation was with himself and the green table and the shelf of mugs and the soup bubbling away on the stove and the washing machine entering its spinning cycle and the containers of Play-Doh on the coffee table; speaking to the non-judgemental objects instead of the person across from him.

“I’ll start with my reputation in school,” he said. “Probably doesn’t take much of an imagination to picture me as I am now with the same hobbies and opinions, just a lot louder about them. Heavy metal was the only music I listened to, and people called me weird for it. And I thought ‘weird?’ Was that supposed to bother me? I loved being weird! I wore the title ‘weird’ with pride. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. And when they saw I played Dungeons and Dragons, they called me a Satanist. Satanist? Like Ozzy, and all the bands I looked up to? Hell yeah! I thought being called a Satanist was so cool I sewed a Leviathan Cross on my jacket.” The corner of his lip jumped at a memory, smiling at something from long ago. Then, it faded. “Goes without saying I didn’t make many friends until I found other outcasts who shared those same views as me. We started a band together, and after some convincing, we made a DND club with me as the Dungeon Master. Of course people called me a cult leader for it, but being a cult leader sounded fucking awesome, so I encouraged it. Antagonized it. Weird, Devil-worshiper, cultist, freak. I wore them all like armor.”

He paused to crack his knuckles, expression falling blank as suppressed scenes unfolded in his head. “I got bullied a lot. Not that surprising. I was so aggressively opinionated about everything and never shut up. But the worst of it stopped when I got held back enough grades that I made “grown-up friends” and started dealing to help pay for my guitars and stuff.” He shrugged a single shoulder in apathy, and the tan jacket slipped down his arm, revealing a faded stick-and-poke viper above his armpit. “Unless it was Steve or someone in that friend circle, I was never invited to parties except to bring drugs. Weed, pills, whatever low scale stuff, nothing that serious, but I wasn’t very popular outside of that context.” The washing machine buzzed at the end of its cycle. “And as much as I told myself I didn’t care, I did. I did care when my friends were out on dates with their girlfriends, and I was alone, stuck in front of a record player learning a song just to give myself something to do, and something to say I did over the weekend when they all talked about the movie they saw together.. Made me feel like I was the outcast even amongst the outcasts.”

Listening, but not responding, you smoothed your thumbs over the divots in your skin your nails left behind.

Swallowing again, he faltered, “Girls didn’t like me. Even if I was the cooler, older guy who was so confident in everything he did, I was still off-putting. Or just weird in the bad way, because I didn’t know how to act, and came on too strong, or too–I don’t know–fucking dorky, doing shit like opening doors and bowing for them, laughing too loud at my own jokes when they didn’t find them funny.” It took everything you had to not to break your promise–to stay silent, and indifferent, and not gather him into a hug and assure him all those goofy mannerisms were exactly why you liked him. “I dated, y’know.. Had girlfriends here and there, but they never lasted more than a month.”

To close one chapter of his life and open another, he rubbed at his eyes, and ran a hand down his face, scrubbing over his chin as he spoke to the ceiling, “Now onto my old man.”

The hand he used to wipe the loneliness from his somber visage came to a rest on the edge of the table, and he ran the side of his palm along it as a way to fidget.

“He was in and out of jail for a number of things my whole life, but when I was twelve, he murdered someone. She was a nice lady. Well known in town, and well liked. Popular. Prom Queen, cheerleader type. Everyone loved her.. And he murdered her.”

Silence, silence, you remained in white-hot, visceral, sweat dripping, jaw-clenching silence.

“According to my criminal record, I was following in his footsteps. I had a penchant for stirring up trouble. It was fun. Stealing dumb shit, hotwiring an old car to drive us to the woods to get drunk when we were teenagers, dealing, begging Steve to throw ragers every weekend so I had an excuse to get shitfaced and run from the cops.. Yeah, it really looked like I was following in his footsteps. Following the Munson name.”

Eddie sat forward. Sleeved forearms sliding across aged coffee rings staining the green collapsible tabletop, and rubbing the backs of his fingers along the other. He was close enough for you to reach, to hold, to comfort when this was over, and the ghosts were put to rest from clouding his softhearted brown eyes.

“There was a New Year’s Eve party I was invited to” –he jumped his fingers in quotations– “on the rich side of town. It wasn’t one of Harrington’s, and I was out of my supply anyway, so I skipped out and spent the night here with my friends playing DND, and setting off fireworks in the trailer park, just having a good time.” The next inhale quivered his bottom lip, “I woke up in my bed to three cop cars blaring their sirens, and someone telling me I was being arrested for-for murder. Ah..”

You steeled yourself from blinking away.

“A girl died at that party. Prom Queen, head cheerleader. The type everyone knew, and everyone liked. And.. A-and, Jesus, I-I just need to get through this, I’m so sorry–but stuff was done to her body.”

The frankness hung in the room.

He screwed his eyes shut, and let the ugly reality spill from his mouth, “A guy from out of state went to that party with way harder shit than I sold, and she wanted to try some. They went to the bathroom together, he gave her too much, drugged her, she overdosed, and h-h-he..” His eyelids twitched with movement, and the tendons in his neck strained. You weren’t sure if he could hear the small, involuntary noise you made, but he chose the same words to avoid what you could infer. What all women could infer. “He did stuff to her body.”

His voice continued to crawl up an octave as his muscles braced in a reflexive cringe. “H-He left her there, and when her body was discovered, and the police were called, it didn’t take long before someone said they thought they saw me there, and once one person said they saw me there, suddenly everyone saw me there.” Hard swallow, palms wiped on jeans. “I was arrested the next morning, and even though I had three alibis, I didn’t have any hard receipts or any of that shit they wanted to establish where I was and at what time. And when my alibis were a bunch of Satanic cultist shithead troublemakers like me, they were brushed off. And why wouldn’t they be? It’s my friend’s word against thirty people who swore the long haired guy they saw at the party was me. Cops thought they caught their man, booked me, and had me in interrogation in under an hour from kicking down my door.”

He licked his lips.

“January of ‘88,” he said with an unsteady cadence, shooting out the sentences as they came to him, lurching faster and faster towards the horrid scars he’d never heal from. “I was so fucking lucky, so fucking lucky. DNA testing had only become a thing the year before. Mhm. That’s what saved my ass. But even then, it wasn’t like it is now. That shit took weeks to process.” He lifted his hands–fingers loosely curled, trembling. “For weeks they made me look at the pictures of her. H-Her body. The b-bruises around her neck.” He gestured at his own, and his voice swung higher pitched, “Interrogated me over and over again. For days, and weeks. Trying to get me to confess. It took weeks to prove I was innocent, and clear my name. Weeks, and weeks. A-A-And in those weeks–”

The trembling escalated to uncontrollable shaking.

“–Fuck–I don’t want to talk about this,” he said, volume fluctuating.

The air was too thick to breathe.

The wrinkles between his brows deepened, as did the lines bracketing his mouth. Red flush overtook his shuddering chest, his strained throat, his scrunched face with his eyes closed in refusal to acknowledge you sat opposite him, your expression slackened by dread.

“In the weeks between waiting f-for the DNA results,” each word wobbled worse than the last, “I found out Adrie’s mom was four months pregnant. And if I knew, then all of Hawkins knew. Everyone knew I knocked someone up, and.. and more rumors started..” He lifted his eyebrows, and his hands developed a violent shiver, hovering over the table, palms open, afraid and begging. “Because of.. what happened to the body.. People thought that she was.. That I..” each pause was a short wheeze.

Your blood ran cold with the slow realization of what word he was avoiding.

Desperation influenced his stammer, “I swear to you, w-what happened between us was consensual,” he stressed the last word in a whimper delivered straight to your dropped stomach. “She doesn’t answer my calls–but I could try, if you need to hear it from her–I promise, I promise, as soon as the rumors started, as soon as they started, she denied them. She tried to stop them from spreading. She tried. She told everyone it-it-it wasn't–that we both chose to–” he sniffed back the croaky sob, and without the grace of respite, he coughed the rasp from his throat, and ushered you into another apology you didn’t know you were owed, “I should’ve told you before we went to Adrie’s school. You had a right to know why people were staring. I’m so fucking sorry.”

In the room at the end of the dark hallway, his daughter who he sacrificed everything for rolled over in her bed, bringing the covers with her. In the belly of the trailer belonging to his uncle, you kept your feet tucked under your chair, letting the information wash over you in worse and worse crashes. In the lousy home he hated, Eddie held his breath until the aches reached their peak, and released them in a cough; and another, and another, until the pain subsided.

Deep breath, deep breath.

Your chair creaked from your uncomfortable shifting.

With time, the tension in his body waned to where his composed words could be heard in all the clarity they deserved, “I know this has been a lot to hear, and process, and I’m so sorry for unloading all of this on you at once, but I wanted you to know the whole story so you could make an informed decision.”

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to speak yet, but your whisper broke through, “Informed decision?”

Cheeks hot, but dry, and lower lashes clumped together from the rescinded tears, he answered you indirectly at first, “It took months to find and arrest the guy, and by then Hawkins didn’t care. Babe, you can be anonymous in the city, but this is how small town mentality works. All it took was one person to say I was at that party, and like that, my life was ruined. My name was stained. No one cared if I was innocent. The culprit was some other guy they’d never heard of from another state whose picture they flashed on the 6 o’clock news once. He might as well not even exist.” A pause. A change. A regret. “I want to protect you.”

There was pressure building behind your eyes, and you moved your gaze to the shelves above you in an effort to stifle the well of tears from falling–for him, for the dead girl, for what he was about to say next.

Eddie alternated between weakly slapping his hands flat on the table, then turning over to show his palms, then slapping them down again; guilt and shame and loneliness and fear working its way into every part of his gentle nature. “My name carries a stigma, and if you’re going to be coming around to my place, or be seen with me in public, you need to know there are consequences. Assumptions are going to be made about you. People are going to speculate, warn you, judge you. You don’t deserve that shit, so please, tell me, and I’ll accept just being friends at work, and leave it at that. I won’t ask questions. I won’t bother you. I won’t ask for more.”

“What?”

“I’ll understand,” he said, eyes tightening in a flinch.

“Eddie–” It came out broken. His encouragement for you to end the burden of this relationship at coworkers for the sake of your image stung like the tender throb of rejection–except, it was worse. It was him giving you permission to break things off because he didn’t see himself as worth the hassle.

Your poise collapsed. “You’re right, it is a lot to process, and it’s all I’m gonna be thinking about for the next week, a-and yeah, I wish you told me sooner, but Eddie–” His knuckles made a harsh sound when you grasped for his hand, knocking them on the table with the force of your messy coordination through the blur of true friendship disrupting your vision. “This changes nothing between us.”

Graceless under the circumstances, you took his right hand and wrapped your fingers around his thumb, fitting the meat of your palm into the curve of his. You delved your other fingers under his sleeve cuff, stroking them down, then up, slotting them beneath the stretchy bracelet. D-A-D-D-Y. He cupped his free hand over top of yours, enveloping them both, and waded through the entanglement to caress the prominent callus at the tip of his middle finger over the white blocks with black lettering. M-O-U-S-E.

“I’m with you,” you said. “I’m here. And whenever you want me here, whenever Adrie wants me here, ask and I’ll be on my bike pedaling as fast as I can.”

His face pinched in sentimental yearn. “Baby..”

Instead of suffocating the intensity of his emotions as he normally would, he slid his chair back and buried his head in the hollow of his outstretched arms; and in the pocket of space where he felt safest, he allowed himself the relief of two hot tears streaking through the fine sweat overtaking his puffy face. They clung to the tip of his nose, and dripped to his jeans in a loud splat.

He snorted, but it came out as a muted huff due to his stopped up sinuses. “Can’t believe I made it all the way through that sober and without crying, and then you just–went ahead and said something like that.”

You smiled. He probably did, too. Then as yours ebbed, his probably did, too.

The intertwined pocket where you clasped each other ran hot with body temperature, humidity, and the loaded implications of his confession and your subsequent acceptance. Heavy with the context for why people stared at him. Their significant glances at you, and the new depths and meaning beyond people thinking he was weird, and you were weird by association.

But at the same time, their stares didn’t last long. They were glances by every definition. A look over, a judgment, and then away, back to their own little world and their own little lives.

You asked, “Are the rumors still as bad as they were?”

The short curls at the crown of his head waved back and forth with his slow head shake. “I don’t think so. I think they’ve gotten better in a weird, fucked up way.” He sniffled, and wiped his nose on the inside of his sleeve before returning to the darkened confines of his arms, refusing excess stimulation until he could handle it. “Ever since Home Alone came out, my friends joke that I’m like that old man, y’know, the one all the neighborhood kids target, and turn one rumor about him into this entire narrative where he’s slayed over a dozen people, and keeps the bodies in his basement.” He laughed, truly. A warm, muffled thing. “That’s the sorta rumors going around now, I think; that I’m some Boogieman that gets blamed for every bump in the night. Adults probably know the accusations, but, like I said, Adrie’s mom did try to stop the other ones, but I guess I don’t know for sure if–when people look at you and me–that’s what they’re thinking. Uhm, I don’t know if I’m making sense anymore.”

“You’re good,” you consoled him. Your thumbs whispered sentiments on his skin, smoothing over the rough terrain from his labor, and catching on the excess sweat, wicking it away and creating more with each hindered brush across his inner wrist, trapped under the weight of his heavy hand copying you; running his fingers over wherever he could, needy, grounding himself to your presence, and seeking closure. “Thank you for finally telling me.”

“Thanks for listening,” he responded quietly.

Eddie shrugged his shoulders to his cheeks, and dried his face on his jacket to the best of his ability. Together, you sat in silence for a while longer, holding each other. Thinking. Decompressing. Plunging into the ice water of yet another development in your relationship, and emerging to the surface in unison, breaking the surface tension latched together by the same lifesaver.

You squeezed.

He squeezed back.

“I think I need a minute,” Eddie said, throwing his head towards the bathroom and letting go of you to inelegantly wipe at his runny nose. He drew further away from the table, standing up and walking in his odd, awkward way; playing with his bangs, and taking his hair out of the ponytail. “I’ll see if Adrie’s awake and wants soup, too.” The edge of the bathroom door flooded with yellowed light and a faucet was turned on high.

There was a nice moment where you nodded at the homely kitchen, lost in thought, absorbing the sounds and smells of the thick bubbling brew, and tomatoey pungence. Until it dawned on you.

“Shit, the soup–!”

Thankfully, as you stirred, the potatoes stuck to the bottom of the pot dislodged themselves, and nothing appeared burnt. Because, honestly, you couldn’t take the wound to your pride if the first time you ever cooked for Eddie Munson resulted in you burning soup.

After searching, you discovered the cabinet above the dish rack housed the dinnerware. You grabbed two mismatched bowls and hesitated on the shallow Little Mermaid one, until hearing the click of the bathroom door swinging open, and a squeak from the adjacent bedroom.

Soft footsteps announced his excitement before you could turn and see Eddie’s silly hand wave.

Come here, he mouthed, peeking from around the wall.

You dropped the serving spoon on the–had to be homemade–ceramic ashtray masquerading as spoon rest, and followed, hungry for new discoveries; the first being the (offensively ugly) pirate ship wheel chandelier hanging above the washing machine you had to have been an idiot to miss earlier. Deeper into the carpeted hallway was the coat closet with crayon squiggles, a shelf of kitschy knick knacks, and a thrifted painting of a lake scene with the curled-edge price sticker still on the corner of the glass. Passing the bathroom, you got a glimpse of a dark green shower curtain, a wet rag on a packed sink of various spilled products, and a bucket of rubber ducks next to the tub.

Eddie slowed, and you were confronted with his back. Slim shoulders on display from his oversized jacket falling further down his arms, thick canvas folding over itself around his tapered waist. The white tank top was stretched to fit him, hem of the armholes digging into his flexed lats as he eased the bedroom door open, back muscles contouring in the heavy shadows as he hunched and held his breath at the creaky hinges broadcasting his entrance. Edges of tattoos taunted you while he blinked into the darkness. And when the one who usurped his bed nearly five years ago didn’t wake, he straightened up and shook his hair out of his face.

He angled to the side, opening himself to you with his arm outstretched; an unspoken suggestion in his fingertips finding the edge of your cable knit sweater. You understood the glossy shine of unfiltered love in his gaze, and fit yourself between him and the doorway, stealing the soft filtered light brushing Adrienne’s sleeping form in tender illumination–made sweeter by the curls falling over her closed eyes, and the pale blue unicorn hugged in her arms.

‘Oh,’ you sighed in surprise, and clasped your hands on either side of your cheeks, craning to look up at him.

Just like the time he helped you hang decorations in the breakroom, your head made contact with the stick-and-poke viper, and his grin was instant.

His inhale cradled you. “She loves that thing,” he said, chest rumbling against your nape, stomach pressing to your side with an amused grunt, filling the gaps between you and him with warmth.

It was as if nothing changed. Not really.

Eddie canted his forehead to you with an expression of mild jealousy over your plush toy wrapped in his little girl’s arms when his cold plasticy ones sat at a miniature table in a pink playhouse pretending to have a tea party. His eyebrows were the same–raised, hidden beneath the wet stringy pieces of his bangs skimming his wrinkled forehead. His damp cheeks, jaw, and neck were the same after his cold water wake up call, splashing himself over the bathroom sink. His full lips were the same, pink and pulled back to show his teeth. His strong chin was the same, peppered with a recent shave. His handsome nose was the same, albeit red. The crinkles at the corner of his eyes were the same, if not slightly fuller from his recent cry.

But everything had changed.

Before, you lacked the understanding of the fear in his eyes when Mr. Moore had walked into the shop. How he had risked a painful bruise on his hip from the chair he knocked over in his scramble to get away from you. The tremble in his hands when he ran them through his hair in an urgent act to appear composed, and not like he was doing something worse with you. To you.

Everything was different, but it was felt, not seen.

The leftover adrenaline from the confrontation at his kitchen table faded, and in its place, rising from the truest, barest, rawest vulnerabilities of himself, was trust. A candid expression of respect in his palm at your back, fingers curled in to stroke his nails along the knitted design of your turtleneck. He confessed his secrets, you knew him to be an innocent man, and despite his worry for your reputation becoming infected by his, you promised him the same loyalty you always had, because there was not a lie in existence that would break the bond you facilitated months ago, born from your sheer desire to annoy the one mechanic who wouldn’t speak to you.

Felt, not seen.

A promise, and an urge.

The tingly pleasure of his nails scratching over your sweater advanced to a divine expression of affection.

He wrapped his arm around you, settling his hand in the curve above your hip. It lasted all of two seconds, long enough for him to bring you into the crook of his body for the purpose of whispering something in your ear, but it was a phenomenal improvement over the usual nervous flittering his fingers performed when in your company.

His voice was candy sweet after watching your face break into a smile for his daughter, “Maybe we should let her sleep, hmm?”

You leaned into him. “Yeah,” you sighed, rolling your head along his shoulder, guiding your silly grin from him to Adrie. “She looks so peaceful.”

“And quiet,” he observed in the wise tone of a single father after long hours of soothing his child’s headache when her cries created one of his own, and juggling the duty of cleaning up her puke from the floor, her clothes, his clothes, and bathing her while wallowing in the misery of doing it all by himself.

Eddie persuaded you into the hallway, and closed the door behind him, letting his arm fall to his side, ending the cocoon of warmth he provided with the harsh drag of the metal zipper scratching across the back of your jeans. He followed you to the kitchen and opened the fridge, muttering a string of words about deserving something as he snapped a silver and blue can from the plastic ring holding them together. “Want a beer? I don’t think you can get a DUI on a bike.”

“You actually can in some states.” You didn’t elaborate, and continued spooning soup into the bowls in questionable silence. “But no, thank you.”

Crack, tss. He held your stare over the rim as he tipped back a long gulp, pressed his lips together, and swallowed with a satisfied ‘ah,’ giving you ample time to ignore him. Finally, he moved his hand about, and asked, “Not gonna tell me why you know that?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.”

Moving on, you located two spoons from the absolute chaos of the cutlery drawer, and brought the bowls to the table while he reached into the pantry for an open sleeve of saltines, tossing them between the both of you and falling into his chair with a soft grunt.

“This looks great,” he complimented in earnest, voice and face alight with appreciation as he thrashed his arms to get out of his jacket, and took another sip of beer before crowding his side of the table with elbows, forearms, and hands; always holding the Pabst, or the soup, or reaching; always in motion, dominating the space you shared between your bowls, and beneath, where your legs were slotted in tight between his wide-spread knees.

His manners were about what you would assume after eating lunch with him many times, but that’s not what had you breathless.

He just.. took off his jacket like it was a completely normal thing he did dozens of times in front of you, sometimes accompanied by a hand rolled cigarette hanging from his lips, or joined by a sneer at some bad joke you told.

But it wasn’t normal. Not this time.

Hungry, hungry, hungry, you devoured the sight of his bare skin.

While he stirred the finely diced carrots and potatoes, you were afforded the time to admire the art no longer hidden by coveralls. Guessing at the older blotchy etches on his inner arm, theorizing about the origins of the souvenirs done in various stages between professional and very not professional, probably by himself or a friend. He didn’t have many, but it was easy to get caught up in the collection of motifs spanning from the top of his shoulders, and crawling in disorder downwards, to a tiny dagger at the apex of his bicep, two dice above his elbow, and a classic twist of barbed wire. Very cool and tough, but your roving stopped at one tattoo in particular.

Rather, one cluster of tattoos making up a whole.

“The bats..”

He perked up at your whisper–”Hm?”–and looked down at his arm. “Oh, yeah. These were my fourth, I think? Somethin’ like that. You like ‘em?” he asked, mouth cutting into the same delighted place a smirk originated from, but with more fascination as he too realized this was your first (technically second) time seeing his exposed arms.

Sucking in your cheeks to curb your habit of smiling at everything he said, you nodded in response, falling into a rhythmic head dip as you thought back to your first time meeting Adrie, and the picture she drew for you, and her Halloween costume, and how she chose not to dress as a princess like all her friends, but as a bat instead, because her daddy liked bats. “Yeah.. Yeah, I like them.”

He removed the twist tie from around the crackers and counted out three, stacking them neatly between his palms and, without warning, crushing them into his soup, sending a fine powder into the air.

It was obvious you were watching him on account of your untouched food, but it was beyond your control. Winter created a barrier between you and his skin. You needed to reap the beauty now while you could. Learn what you could, like the scorpion above his collar bone opposite the viper, and the eyeball monster with tentacles twisting over the bulk of muscles laying dormant in his solid forearms, and whatever the hell else was peeking out from under his tank top.

He scraped his spoon along the bottom of his bowl, and determined he needed one more cracker to make his soup as thick as he liked, and collected it from the crinkly pack. Yet another simple movement he had executed hundreds of times in front of you, and yet..

You stared. And stared. And stared. And made a sound of disgust. Rising from your chair, you loomed an impressive shadow over Eddie’s face as he gazed up at you with an expression of open confusion.

His eyes were trained solely on the pretty glint in yours.

Shiver. Goosebumps.

He jumped at your bold finger slipping under the strap of his tank top to move it aside. You pinched your brows, narrowed your eyes, and pressed your palm to his skin, enthralled by the sensation of him existing under you, aware of the full breath he took to fill out his chest as you introduced the touch.

Humming, you studied your hand cupped over the black widow spider inked onto his naked pec, and concluded, “That one’s smaller than my palm.”

The pale saltine cracker shattered in his grip.

Acting oblivious, you scooted your chair under you, sat, smoothed your hands over your lap as if a napkin existed there, and slurped your spoonful of soup as if you had done something as natural as point out the weather.

He released his surprise in a huff, and brushed the crumbs from his palms. “You are the lamest person I have ever met.”

“Have you met yourself?” At his weak glare, you slurped more of your soup. An amicable silence followed–the sort of camaraderie communicated through full bellies–but there’d been something on your mind since he willingly opened himself up to you and shared his past, expecting his name to become a forgotten word in your mouth and nothing more. “Hey, since we’re like, baring our souls and shit tonight, do you want to know why I created my ‘yes’ policy?”

Instead of a comically over-quirked eyebrow, he showed genuine interest in listening to your story. He set down his spoon, and turned his full attention to you. “I’m intrigued.”

“I’m tellin’ ya now, it’s not as riveting as yours, but uh,” you faltered on a pause, and fostered the same sort of nervous shrug he did. “Growing up, my parents were really.. negative, I guess is the best way to put it. Like, they wouldn’t let me hang out with friends, told me I’d never amount to anything, said I was a disappointment. Y’know, normal stuff. Uhm, I wasn’t allowed to do much, only really leaving the house to go to school or go to my job when I was old enough to have one. They said I’d never live up to their expectations, I was a failure, I’d never get a boyfriend, I’d be a bad wife, I’m going nowhere in life, and I’m an annoyance and take up too much of their time, and I was never wanted.” You swiped your tongue along your top teeth, and popped your lips after perhaps sharing too much. “Anyway, I made good grades in high school, so I took a lot of electives, and one of those happened to be Drama class. This may come as a surprise, but I was really shy at first, but after a while I got used to playing different roles, and fell in love with the freedom of becoming whoever I wanted on stage. And one day my teacher taught us a lesson in improv, and yeah.. the moment she explained the concept of ‘Yes, and..’ I was hooked. Just the mindset of nothing being rejected, and no idea was made fun of, or shot down was brand new to me. And as you can infer by now, I adopted that ideology for my own life, and, uh, yeah, I’ve been saying ‘yes’ to everything since then and never looked back. Literally, I’ve talked to my parents like, once since moving out, and that was about my insurance.

“Uh, anyway,” you said, still talking a mile a minute, “it did kinda create a people-pleasing complex for a while. I wanted to say ‘yes’ to everyone because it made them happy, since, y’know, I was always told ‘no’ and it did the opposite. But it’s whatever. And, uh, while we’re doing this, I wanted to apologize for always pointing out that you’re single.” You avoided eye contact. “Kinda harsh in hindsight.”

He broke into a laugh–a loud clap like thunder, and curling in on himself–finding the humor in your flustered state.

“Well, I’m glad you find it so funny,” you deadpanned.

“No, no, sorry–” He concealed his giggles behind his knuckle crooked to his lips. “I, yeah, I’m sorry for pointing out that you’re single too.”

“Appreciated.”

The brief teasing commenced to a slight frown between his eyebrows. His gaze drifted to his soup, worry twisting at his lips as the bubbles of oil sloshed across the surface of the reddened broth, trembling in ripples from his bouncing leg.

Eddie was emotionally fatigued. Words weren’t coming to him–none that carried the weight they needed–so he offered an alternative to hollow apologies.

He brought a shaky spoonful of soup to his lips, and dribbled some off the side as he overcorrected the angle he needed to slide it into his mouth. The next dive for a potato proved just as awkward, trepidatious, but the struggle of eating with his non-dominant side was worth it.

Your fingertips brushed over saltine dust as you accepted the proposal of his hand resting at the center of the table, palm open, and fingers coaxing you to reunite skin on skin.

“I like your policy,” he said, voice gone gruff with the exhaustion of the day.

“Really? On more than one occasion you’ve called it stupid, irresponsible, absurd, the dumbest thing you’d ever heard of, naive–”

He shut you up by curling his fingers over yours, setting your cheeks ablaze with his unashamed thumb pressed to your bracelet. “You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your policy.”

A powerful move, and you matched the intimacy.

You hooked your thumb around to the scars lining the backs of his fingers, and lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, giving yourself to him with each circle you massaged over his knuckles and between the joints. He did the same. Touching, touching, touching. Trusting. Melting into each other's palms. Holding hands with a man accused of so much, and forgiven so little. Holding hands with someone, just months ago, he brushed off as flippantly as her parents did.

He was sorry for the way he treated you.

You were sorry for the way the world treated him.

He squeezed.

You squeezed back.

~~~

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?” you asked with a whine.

The pot of leftover soup still sat without a lid on the stovetop, and the serving spoon had a layer of scum dried to it. The dirty bowls and spoons were stacked in the sink, and Eddie hadn’t moved his wet laundry from the washing machine yet. Surely, you could help by wiping up the crumbs on the table, or cleaning up the spilled toothpaste on the bathroom sink, or–

He clapped his hands on your shoulders. “No,” he stressed slowly, “it’s late, and I’d prefer it if you got home before Buckley’s mom starts filing a missing persons report, and adding another rumor to my ass.” You cupped his elbows–barricaded from his body heat by his jacket–and opened your mouth, ready to argue. “And I swear if you don’t turn on your bike’s headlight, I’m gonna–”

You threw your head back, and groaned, “You’re so annoying.”

With the trailer’s door open, the quiet night penetrated the mix of air colliding from his warm kitchen and meeting the windless cold from the season, joining where your bodies connected on his cement steps. Your shoes dragged on the pebbly concrete in a woeful goodbye, making your effort to leave appear utmost arduous, tacking on a classic bottom lip pout when you both relinquished your holds on each other, and he shooed you off.

Not like you actually wanted to clean his house, it was just fun to annoy him into thinking you did.

Leaned against the doorway, he crossed his arms and tilted his head, mirroring your fondness in his gaze. “Yeah, yeah. Get out of here before people start gossiping about the pretty girl leaving my trailer, alive.”

The sudden belly laugh escaping you reverberated off the metal boneyard.

You slapped your hand over your mouth. “Sorry,” and after a thought, you asked gently while crouched to unchain your bike from the handrail, “Do you normally joke about what happened to you?”

His shadow shrugged over the hubcap hidden amongst the crunchy brittle grass. “Makes it easier, sometimes.”

“Noted.” You threw your leg over the seat, and made a big production of clicking on the headlight situated between your handlebars. “See you at work tomorrow, pretty boy.”

The scoff he was going for devolved into a snort. “Bye. Be safe. Please.”

Eddie locked the door behind him.

For minutes he stood at the center of his uncle’s trailer. It looked much the same as any other day when he came home from work, if not neater. But things had changed. As much as he liked eating across from Adrie, the two bowls in the sink were adult-sized, and it wasn’t the scent of stale smoke clinging to Wayne’s flannels that had Eddie throwing his arms over his head, locking his grip around his wrist, and twisting back and forth on the spot.

“Not exactly what I meant when I said I was gonna invite her over,” he informed no one but the darkness behind his closed eyes, remembering he promised Adrie that you’d come over soon.

Inhaling deep, he expelled a loud sigh and addressed the leftover soup. “But what a fucking night, huh?”

Inundated by the heaviness of feeling wanted, he opened the fridge and grabbed a tall boy stuffed behind the shelf of condiments. It wasn’t a drink of sadness as it usually was, but in celebration.

Afterall, he had much to celebrate. He held your hand. Twice.

And, not to mention, you know, how he showed you the gruesome details of the reality he lived in–his home, his reputation, his daughter sneezing into his open mouth when he was instructing her on how to take her temperature while you gagged from outside her bedroom. You knew it all, and you’d see him tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Morning smiles, afternoon laughter. Maybe he’d even ask that question he’d meant to before you left.

But for now..

He ran his fingers over the old tattoo on his shoulder, and pressed his palm over it, replicating the weight of your head resting there when you so lovingly witnessed Adrie being his best wingman, hugging her stuffed unicorn while she slept. It’s what gave him the bravery to wrap his arm around you. And what did you do in return? You leaned into him with a smile, utterly charmed by his forwardness, if his cynical eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

A voice in the back of his head whispered a seed of doubt, but after a sip, he dismissed it.

“Still fucking got it, Munson,” he complimented himself, downing a long gulp.

————

See you at work tomorrow..

You definitely didn’t see him tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the next.

“Here you go, my lovely,” Robin cooed. She entered your room on tiptoes, ever so quiet, and placed your requested bottle of Nyquil on the bedside table with a glass of water. “How’re you feeling, sweetheart?”

You broke from your nest of blankets for the lone reason of glaring at her saccharine voice; somehow sweating through yet another t-shirt, while still shivering as if you’d just emerged from an ice bath.

“Aw, don’t look so grumpy, baby,” she comforted you with a pinch to your cheek. “It’s what you get for locking lips with Eddie.”

“I did not–” You cut your own self off with a round of coughs, making your attempts at speaking scratchier, and scratchier. And by the time you’d recovered, Robin had escorted herself out of your vicinity.

Her giggles haunted you from downstairs.

“Yeah, she’s fine!” She yelled to her mom. “Just lovesick.”

You rolled over, and sighed.

Goodbye extra sick day.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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linked-maze · 6 months

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.:It's about Time:. part 1

A story behind how Navi and Time found each other! enjoy!

It was a cold hazy morning in the forest, after a whole night of rain. The small beam of light from the morning sun was shining through the leaves, warming up the air that was fresh and with an earthy smell. A tiny blue fairy emerged from a hole in a great redwood tree. Butt in the air, she yawned and stretched her whole fuzzy body, shaking the sleepiness out of her and flapping her wings awake. She raised her snout to sniff the air and letting out a sigh of relief. After months of winter, spring was finally settling in, and Navi couldn’t be happier about that. The forest was alive with all her favorite snacks, spiders, grasshoppers, and more! So, no time to spare! She set out to search the environment for some breakfast.

Navi flew through the cold air, the sun hitting her from above. The floor of the deep forest was filled with big old stones with beautiful carvings all over the place with moss and ferns covering the ground completely. A river close by, water flowing steadily. Navi took a glance for any danger in the area, but all seemed fine. She decided to start her hunt here. Flying down to land on some of the wet stones, almost slipping but caught her balance. She skipped along from stone to stone, stopping a bit to sip some water from a nearby plant that was dripping from the rain. Then, in the distance before her, she saw a delicious grasshopper! Navi ducked down quickly, and without making a sound she sneaked up to the prey behind the ferns, slowly approaching, ready to pounce any second now. However, suddenly a disturbance from the distance echoed throughout the deep forest. The grasshopper hopped away in fright. Navi attempted to go for the kill, but it was too late. It got away. “Tch…” Navi sighed in disappointment. She flew up to one of the tree branches high above, away from any danger. What in the world was that sound? Monsters did live in these woods, maybe it was one of those awful wolfos striding around the area, looking for their own prey. Or maybe it was one of those atrocious stalfos beating up a tree somewhere for fun. Suddenly the sound was back! It sounded like thunder rumbling! This was no wolfos or stalfos. This was something huge and dangerous. Navis curiosity got the best of her, and she set out to solve this. Navi got closer and closer to the mysterious rumbling. She flies above an ancient, overgrown temple ruin. Walls, Pillars, and statues broken down over time, greenery taken over the place completely. She has been here many times for the amazing apple trees that grow here. It has always been such a peaceful place. But not today, birds flying away in flocks, frightened by the ruckus. It sounded like a huge fight was going on!

Navi quietly landed on one of the big ancient statues, hiding behind it to get a peek in on what was going on, but nothing could have prepared her for what was making all that sound. It was a Goron! Out in the middle of the forest throwing around huge rocks, destroying them into small pieces. The Goron looked angry yet saddened, mostly getting his frustrations out. What was a Goron doing so far from home? Was he lost? Did he lose something? Whatever it was, he was making a commotion. Navi rolled her eyes. She had no time for this. She was about to set off again, but something stopped her. She took a glance at the Goron. Something about him seemed familiar but she couldn’t put her paw on what it was… it was like she had seen those eyes before, the right eye barring a huge scar across it. Navis memories sparked for a moment, the eyes resembling her dear old friend, but there was no way this was Link, this was a Goron. Navi felt a little bad stalking this poor Goron. So, she decided to let him be. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed. Why else would he do his outburst deep in the forest far from home. Besides, Navi still needed some breakfast. She set off as quietly as she came. Back home, Navi was digging for worms in some dirt right underneath the redwood tree. It was no grasshopper and Navi loved the hunt of it all, but it was tasty, nonetheless. continued her day with small tasks and gathering fresh leaves for her nest. Walking down to a little puddle nearby to wash her paws clean after an evening of work, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Goron. And Link… it has been years now, but she still missed him deeply. The day she left him after completing the Dekus trees dying request, she was supposed to move on with her life. Finally reuniting with her great fairy and all her sisters in the forest. Living life with all her sisters was nice but she felt empty inside every single night, wondering what Link was up to and if he was okay… so one day she decided to go look for him! The hero she was meant to be with! But… he was nowhere to be seen. No one in Hyrule knew where he was. But that didn’t stop her! She searched for days, weeks, months! But with no luck… It was like he was gone… dead. Navis hope grew thin over the years, and she settled down in the deep forest, Abandoning her quest. But no matter what she did, she could never let him go in her heart. The day went by, and the sun started to set at around dinner time. Navi laying at the opening of her redwood tree hole, still in thought, and was not feeling like hunting. She felt restless and couldn’t focus. So, she decided to go to sleep early this time. Letting her mind rest. to be continued~

#linked maze #linkedmaze #tloz #zelda au #lm time #lm navi #fanfiction #worked really hard on this!#got a bunch of help from my friends from discord!#so credit to them!#im not the best at writing but still wanted to try it out! :D

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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virgin neil lewis with 11: “fuck, do that again... please."

your work is so fucking good i LOVE it

thank you so much love!! i got so many amazing neil requests but I love the idea of virgin neil c: kinda made him an incel lowkey...

warnings: noncon sexual content (18+ only!!), perv!neil, grinding, neil being a creepy nice guy with 0 stamina (aka my exact type)

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

Neil could be a little bit... well... touchy.

You mostly didn't mind it. It was just his way of being friendly and he usually made you laugh with the way he would randomly hug you from behind or tickle you or playfight you just to hold you down.

Every once in a while it would get weird, but not too weird; just his dorky, goofy sense of humor taking a jokingly-horny turn.

Well, you thought he was joking.

Like, for example, today—when you were on the couch arguing over what to watch (a common occurrence).

“No way,” he shook his head, “it’s shlock!”

“Just because it had a big budget doesn’t mean it’s shlock!” you defended.

“Oh yeah?” he challenged with a smirk. “Just read the box!”

He snatched the DVD case out of your hands, flipping it to read the back as you tried to pull it away from him.

“In a world,” he began reading the synopsis in a deep, dramatic voice. “See? No good movie starts its premise with in a world—”

“Shut up!” you whined. “Reading the back is cheating! Gimme it!”

You leaned over him, trying to grab it, but his arms were longer; he held it up high and tilted his head back to keep reading: “In a world devastated by nuclear war—”

“You’d like it if you gave it a chance!” you insisted. You couldn’t reach as high as him from where you were sitting, so you thoughtlessly hopped into his lap and lifted yourself up to get closer. He yanked it away again, leaning to the side and watching you as you laughed and groaned and tried to get it away from him. “You just need to see it, then you’d like it!”

Three things happened at once, right then: you moved to try to get the DVD from him, twisting yourself in his lap; his other hand grabbed suddenly and tightly onto your hip; and he stopped laughing.

You didn’t really notice it at first, just happy you managed to snatch the case from him. You only really realized something was different when you looked at him with a smug grin which fell quickly. “Neil?”

His lip was between his teeth, and his face was a little flushed.

“Neil, what’s wrong?” you wondered, relaxing on top of him, which only made you put more pressure against his— oh.

“Fuck,” he breathed, holding your hips with both hands now, “do that again… please.”

“What the fuck?!” you snapped. “Are you— is that—?”

You tried to get off of him, but he was holding you down. Your face flushed as you suddenly felt self-conscious about everything you’d done— about wearing these tiny lounge shorts, about getting in his lap, about coming over to see him at all. He rocked his hips slightly under you, and you whimpered as you understood, without a doubt, that he was rubbing his erection right against you through his pants. You could feel it throbbing, even. You weren’t sure what was worse: the possibility that he got that hard that fast because you were in his lap, or that he’d been hard before when you two were just hanging out.

“Let me go, Neil,” you demanded, but your voice was weak and shaking; he ignored you, looking down at you in his lap as he moved you on top of him. “Neil, stop—”

“Fuck,” he sighed, “you’re warm.”

He did it again, again; you felt sick and strange and sort of numb as he held you tighter, groaning under his breath. “This isn’t funny,” you whined, “this is—what the fuck, dude—”

“Sorry,” he panted, moving you faster over him, and you grimaced as you were forced to feel the details of his cock against your pussy. It was disturbing, really, how well you could feel it with these clothes in the way: you could feel the ridge of his head, the shape and thickness of his shaft…

You swallowed, blinking quickly, not really believing that this was happening—this couldn’t be happening, right? Not to you, not with Neil, it just didn’t make sense. “Stop,” you begged again, quieter yet more desperate than ever.

“I will, I will,” he promised, “I’m so close— I’m almost done, then I’ll stop— fuck!”

He tossed his head back, and you felt it flexing. You watched in shock, confusion, and disgust as a small stain began to form on his shorts, hot come soaking through the fabric as his chest rose and fell quickly while he caught his breath.

You were speechless, and confused, and you had pins and needles all over as you tried to convince yourself that didn’t just happen— that your ‘friend’ hadn’t just used you to come, holding you down and rubbing you against him. You’d felt so helpless and dirty… so why was there a wet patch in your own shorts, not from coming but from unsatisfied arousal?

His grip relaxed on your hips, and you could get up, but you were still frozen. If you moved now, you might have to acknowledge that this was real.

“Okay,” he smiled, still breathing a bit heavy, eyes still shut with relief, “we can watch your movie now.”

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis dark smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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gladiatorcunt · 3 months

Text

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don��t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

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fluloa · 2 years

Note

okay well now i’m going to be the one to ask you for the step!dad jake request bc I NEED IT, your jake fics are god tier fr

it’s time that i hop onto the wagon. also i have hadf a few glasses of wine

warnings — praise, stepcest, masturbation, rough fingering/fuck, little bit of awkward step-daddy jake, in heat shit, stomach bulge, daddy kink

fingers stuffed in your cunt and legs spread wide open, you hadn't expected for the flaps of your marui's pod to fling open.

"holy mother of eywa—" jake curses, shrieking at your dazed, whiney state with your really wet and bare pussy on display and he swings the flap back shut. you scream as well, embarrassment shaking through your system but it's immediately numbed by your heat fizzing up your body, stilling your mind and forcing your thoughts to only focus on your orgasm that you can't reach.

the smell of you reaches jake's nose, your sweet caramel-like aroma fogging up his senses. he understood now. why you had been stooped up in your moss of bed for the past few days, why you were so distant at dinnertime, why you had been avoiding him so much.

you were in heat.

his poor babygirl, fingering her pussy while she whined and withered in utter torture. that's why you were hissing with pain. not because you were hurt or sick, but because you were in fucking heat.

then he realizes you haven't stopped, by the continued noises of small gushing and pathetic high-pitched whimpers. "hey, sweetheart?"

you only whine in reply.

jake clears his throat, trying so hard not to focus on the way your pussy messily quelches each time your fingers thrust inside of it. he re-adjusts his loincloth, cringing at his growing bulge pressing up against it. "does it hurt? baby?"

"oh," you grit out a moan, and jake can hear the way you kick your feet against the woven ground. "mmmhm... daddy, 's hurts."

"didn't catch that. what was that?"

"it hurts," you groan. "please, daddy, come.. in here. i need- i nee... i need..."

jake gently pries open the flap of the pod once again, creeping his head past it and there you are, just like before, fucking yourself dumb with your tiny fingers. he clicks his tongue, crawling to your aid and he runs a hand up your arm, and you fucking shiver at it. your tail twirls ferally, and with the hand that isn't tied up in your cunt, you use it to slap it onto his arm and drag him towards you, piling him on top of you.

"tell me what i can do, babygirl. how long you been hurtin' for?" he whispers, and you can't even reply, only jutting your legs further apart.

jake is still unsure what to do, even though the solution is right there in front of him, right in between your glistening thighs. your smell is intoxicating him, telling him to just pick you up by your legs and fuck his cock into you so hard you see stars. "i want it," you rasp out, looking up at him with your big eyes that you know always gets him to give in and give you what you want. and right now, it's his cock.

"uh- for now, you can hop on my thigh. that sound good? yeah?" jake reasons, and you push out a reckless nod. he rolls you over with him, now laid out on his back and you practically pounce on his thigh, your gush of warm wetness immediately spreading along his skin. he bites back a groan.

you instantly start grinding your hips, letting your head fall back as your body sways, your pussy gliding along his thigh and rubbing at your puffy clit. fuck, if he wasn't hard before, he is now. hard as rock. watching his little princess ride his thigh like an animal, like a slut. it shakes him up in way more ways than one. the thick muscle of his thigh does absolute wonders for you, the amazing friction of your clit catching on the tough of his muscle making your eyes quite literally roll back.

"that's it, that's my girl. fuck yourself on me like that. using dad's big thigh for your pussy, hey? good fuckin' girl," he jumbles, sliding his hand on your hips, now helping you sharpen the desperate rocks of your body and you moan loudly.

your boobs bounce each time your hips roll, your hands trembling as they support your body on his chest and your fingernails digging into his blue skin. you're panting out heavy, quick breaths as you try and find words, "can... i..."

"hey, hey, 's 'right. use your words slowly for me." jake reassures smoothly, running a hand up your thigh and rubbing his thumb into your hot skin. "you close?"

"no," you hiss lowly through your gritted teeth. your words are filled with sobs, a sweet twist with desperation that has jake's dick twitching under his loincloth. "your cock."

"want my cock?" he asks, letting a dark and quiet chuckle slip past his lips, "don't know if you'll be able to ride that one, sweetheart."

"then fuck me with it," you manage to blow out, taking a hand and slipping it to palm his cock, tented up and ready for a pussy to plunge into. your pupils widen immensely, tail whipping up in excitement and your riding quickens, moving your cunt faster on his thigh. "please, daddy. pleasepleaseplease."

"might hurt a little. promise you won't cry?" jake coos, letting his finger trail up the smooth skin of your belly.

"promise," you rush, speeding onto your back and splaying out your body for him. funnily, your top is still strapped to your body. a bit disheveled, but it's still on. jake changes that though, as he yanks it off of your shoulders and flings it across the room. he then presses kiss to the middle of your shoulder, his hand shifting down to play with your pussy, striding a long finger up your slit and gathering some of your slick onto the pad. you whine at the much needed attention, finally getting a touch that is not your own, but your stepdad's.

he wastes no time in pushing a finger in, and then another. the girth of his digits stretch out your viscid walls, heighten your breath and make your pussy pulse in delighted appreciation.

"am i making you feel better, baby? feelin' good?" jake murmurs, and you can feel the side of cock rub up the inner of your left thigh. "think you're ready for dad's cock?"

"yes," you cry, your back arching off the ground as your mouth agapes.

"okay, okay," jake gives your cheek a messy smooch, untying his loincloth with ease and lining up the tip of his cock at your sopping opening. then he slides it in, pushing past your tight pussy and forcing the thick of his length inside of you. you let out a strangled mewl, your ankles kicking at the back of his legs and he catches the way your lips tremble. "ah-ah, baby— what'd i say about crying?"

"i'm not. i'm not crying, daddy." you beg with your voice meek, your cunt wrapping around him tight as if the body part itself did not want to let him go. milking his cock perfectly, he decides to start a slow rock of his hips, a soft pace of back and forth in your pussy. your legs are shaking as they shift to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and encouraging him to push his cock further into your tummy.

"big ass bulge in your tummy from me. ouch, hey? that's daddy's cock in there, pushing your skin up like that." you're compelled to look at where your bodies meet, and you glare at the bump forming and deforming each time his cock glides into you, big and pointy and it only drives you faster to your release.

jake scoops an arm beneath you and around your back, using it to start bringing you down onto him, speeding up his thrusts little by little. a high moan breaks from your sore throat, hands shifting recklessly as you struggle to find a place to rest them.

"over my back, baby." he says, grabbing your arms himself and swinging them over the broad of his back. "there we are."

he leans down and seals your lips in a harsh kiss, tongue sponging out to dance along your hot one. it feels so wrong, so vivid and bad, that you can't help but let out a pathetic whine because of it because you love everything about it. jake fastens his pace, now rutting up into you hard and rough, moving your body with his as your loud noises muffle by the wrap of his aggressive tongue.

you're meeting his animalistic thrusts with your own, only they're more smaller and choppy because scrap before, you're getting fucked dumb now. your stepdad's cock driving in and out of your pussy so ruthlessly, you're going to see stars. literal stars.

"close?" jake mumbles against your mouth, his tone twinged with a sudden lick of his own desperation.

"mhm," you slur, gripping onto him as you attempt to have his cock impossibly hit deeper inside you.

“come all over daddy’s cock then,” he deepens the kiss, angling his head to the side slightly as a thick lock of his hair falls down in front of you. “wanna see my little girl come undone,” he pants.

that sets you off, has your orgasm exploding out of you and pussy gushing around jake’s dick. it shakes your entire body, smacking you with absolute bliss and all you can do is moan, feeling the tears rim your eyes. suddenly, jake is scooping out of you and groaning, dumping his load in his bunched up loincloth beside him.

you lay still beneath jake, panting like crazy and so is he, leaning an elbow on the ground as he attempts to catch his breath. eventually, he ends up collapsing to the ground, and he takes you with him. too fucked out to care, you slump your head against his chest. he tucks a lather of hair behind your ear, kissing the smooth skin between your shoulder and neck.

he doesn’t think it hurts anymore.

#jake sully smut #avatar the way of water #jake sully #jake sully x reader #dilf jake sully #jake sully imagine #james cameron avatar #avatar 2 jake sully #stepdad jake sully #jake sully x reader smut #so what im a sucker i gave in #yall already know i had to #STEPDADDY JAKE SULLY #jake sully oneshot #jake avatar smut #eat children EAT

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steddieas-shegoes · 21 days

Text

i'm glad i get forever to see where you end

for @messessentialist's birthday. i already said it all on ao3, but i love you biiiiitch. happy birthday, kissin you on the lips with tongue, cuddling you while we steal cool rocks from national parks (allegedly).

rated e | 14,135 words | cw: minor character deaths offscreen, brief discussion of grief and mourning, alcohol | check ao3 for all tags

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

He stares down at the paper in his hands. He thought he’d feel relief, maybe a tiny bit of happiness that he’d never admit to. He even considered that he might feel a small speck of sadness the day his brother died.

But all Wayne Munson feels right now is disbelief and anger, and he doesn’t know where to hide it before Eddie gets home.

“God damn idiot. Couldn’t even have the decency to die of old age. Had to go and get killed behind bars,” Wayne mutters under his breath as he folds the paper and slips it back into the envelope, hoping that keeping it out of sight might help him come to terms with the emotions flooding his chest. “Bullshit.”

Wayne is tired. He feels exhaustion in his bones, even in his fresh retirement.

For some, retirement is a time to reflect on the life you’ve lived and experience the things you couldn’t while you worked and raised a family. For others, retirement never happens at all.

For Wayne, retirement is a reminder that he almost lost his nephew, his son, and the government had to make sure he wouldn’t say a damn thing about how.

He knows he shouldn’t complain, but damn he sure would like to.

And now he has to figure out a way to tell Eddie that his father got killed in prison. The letter doesn’t say much, just that it was violent and the person responsible for his death is facing further consequences. As if Wayne cares about that. As if it helps explain this situation to a boy who already lost enough.

He sighs as he grabs a beer from the fridge and glances at the clock. Eddie should be home soon. He can’t hold onto this for too long; The news will get out soon enough and he’ll hear it from somewhere else, somewhere who won’t take the time to see what Eddie needs.

He takes a sip of the beer, then another, hoping the next taste of the bitter hops will help him decipher what he needs to say to Eddie.

It’s almost a blessing that Eddie doesn’t arrive home for another hour, giving Wayne time to finish his beer and get started on dinner.

Wayne is already prepared to ask Steve to head out tonight instead of linger, using the excuse of making sure Eddie doesn’t need anything before he goes. Usually Wayne finds it endearing, and hopes Eddie can see what’s so obvious there, but not tonight.

But Steve doesn’t walk in with Eddie.

Eddie’s humming something when he walks in, setting his cane against the table before sitting down in a chair and looking at Wayne with a smile.

“Hey, Wayne. How’s your day been?”

Wayne knows he’s about to ruin Eddie’s day at the very least and he’s not sure if he wants that task. He silently curses Al Munson again, wishing for someone to show up and say it was a mistake just so he doesn’t have to do this.

“Oh, boring. Ya know I hate retirement,” Wayne says as he brushes off the stress, tries to figure out a way to lead in to the news naturally. “Too much time on my hands.”

“You love fishing, though. Thought that’s where you went all morning.”

Wayne nodded. “You’re right about that. Guess I just like keeping my mind busy.”

He’s met with silence, which leads him to looking over to the table, where Eddie is staring at the envelope the letter came in.

Why did he leave it out in the open like that? It’s clearly marked from the prison.

“What’s this?” Eddie asks, always curious to the point of danger. “Dad get out?”

This was one of the worst things Wayne ever had to do and that’s saying something. Vietnam wasn’t for the weak, losing the love of his life nearly killed him, and seeing Eddie in a hospital bed after just barely escaping death is something he’d feel deep in his chest for years. But this was up there.

“No, son,” Wayne sighed, turning away from the pot on the stove. Beef stew and bread with butter was one of Eddie’s favorites, but it took a lot of work. That didn’t matter as much as making sure Eddie had support. “They sent a letter to let me know your dad passed away.”

Eddie didn’t look away from the letter. He was playing with the rings on his fingers, replaced by Steve the moment he realized they were missing in the hospital.

“Did they say how?” Eddie finally asked, still not looking up at Wayne.

“They just said another inmate was responsible. I don’t know any details. I’m sorry, Ed. Really sorry.”

And he is. Despite the fact that Al was a terrible father and made Eddie’s life harder than it should have ever been, he knows Eddie must have a lot of complicated emotions.

“Welp!” Eddie claps his hands on his thighs before finally looking back up at Wayne. “Guess that’s that.”

“It…is?” Wayne is trying to watch for any sign of discomfort or sadness, maybe anger. He sees none.

“Yeah. Not like I’ve really had him around to feel much of a loss.” Eddie smiles. It’s not fake, at least not according to Wayne’s judgment. “You’ve been my dad more than he ever was.”

Wayne feels warmth spreading in his chest at the thought of Eddie seeing him as his parent. It makes sense, but he’s never outright said something. Sure, he gave him Father’s Day cards, often handmade. And yeah, he braved a fishing trip every year for Wayne’s birthday because he knew it meant a lot to him. There was that one time he’d called him Dad when he was on morphine in the hospital.

Hearing it changes something in Wayne.

“You really feel that way, kid?” Wayne asks, sitting down at the table across from Eddie.

“Yeah. I kinda thought you knew that already.”

“Guess it’s nice to hear anyway.”

They don’t say anything else. They don’t need to.

A few minutes goes by before Wayne stands up and walks over to the stew, giving it a stir and taking a spoonful out to test the carrots and beef.

“Is that beef stew?” Eddie asks as the scent hits him.

“Sure is.”

“You were worried about how this was gonna go, huh?” Eddie teases, smirk evident in his voice.

“A little. Can’t blame me, can ya?” Wayne decides it’s done and turns off the stove. He’s grabbing two bowls from the cabinet when the front door opens.

“You forgot the meds!” Steve yells as he runs into their kitchen with a bottle of prescription pills in his hand. He freezes when he sees Wayne dishing out stew. “Sorry. Uh. Am I interrupting?”

Wayne laughs around a sigh, reaching up to grab a third bowl.

“No, have a seat, son. Just gettin’ ready to eat.”

Eddie stands and limps his way to Steve, taking the pill bottle to pocket it before he leans further in his space.

“I’m an orphan!”

Steve’s jaw drops and Wayne does all he can not to laugh. It’s not funny, and he knows that Eddie’s probably not processing the news properly yet, but he’d rather laugh than cry.

“Sorry, what?”

“My dad’s dead. The biological one in prison. Rest in peace to the man who gave me, like, two useful skills and musical talent.” Eddie is still leaning into Steve’s space and Wayne’s watching, waiting.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that sucks.”

“Nah, it sucks that he was such a shitty dad I barely even feel sad that he’s dead.” Ah, there it is. That’s why he’s doing better than Wayne expected. “I’ve got Wayne.”

“Damn right,” Wayne adds as he pulls spoons out of the drawer. “Let’s eat.”

Steve seems lost for a moment as he looks between Wayne and Eddie, unsure what else to say in this admittedly strange situation.

He finally grabs two bowls off the counter and sets them in his and Eddie’s spots at the table.

“Let’s eat.”

- - -

Two days pass before it really hits Eddie.

Wayne’s been waiting.

Nothing major happens. Eddie doesn’t break down in tears or lash out in anger. He doesn’t even mention saying goodbye in some way.

“We should go on a trip.” He says to Wayne while they’re eating breakfast.

“What kinda trip?” Wayne asks without looking up from his newspaper.

“Camping. Or maybe cabin-ing. Somewhere with walls and running water.” Eddie sounds breathless, like he’s run a marathon. Wayne finally looks up and sees the look in his eyes. “Could go fishing and roast marshmallows and swim and stuff. Like that one time.”

He’s talking about the trip they took together a few months after he moved in permanently. His mama was gone and his dad was sitting in jail waiting for sentencing on an armed robbery turned homicide. Wayne wanted to get Eddie’s mind off everything before he had to go back to school, so he took him up to a friend’s cabin at the lake for a few days.

Eddie’s never been an outside person, but they had fun there.

It was the first time Wayne felt like Eddie was his.

It may have been the first time Eddie felt safe with Wayne, too.

“I could see if that cabin’s available. My buddy doesn’t rent it out much anymore so I’m sure he’d be fine with us using it.”

“Could Steve come?”

“Sure.”

He agrees without a second thought.

This is Eddie’s way of seeking comfort in the people he has left, he can see it from a mile away. If Eddie needs Steve to come with them, it’s no skin off Wayne’s back.

Plus, Wayne can recognize how badly Steve needs to relax. He can’t believe someone as young as him walks with so much tension in his shoulders and lines on his forehead.

“Sweet. He’s never been fishing,” Eddie explains. “Or hiking in the right side up. At least not proper hiking. I guess we aren’t really doing proper hiking. I’m wearing jeans. Can’t be real hiking.”

Wayne smiles down at the sports section of the paper, nodding and humming in agreement when Eddie recommends something else for their trip.

- - -

Steve tries insisting on taking his car as his contribution to the weekend, but Wayne tells him they need the space in his truck for all their gear. It occurs to him when Steve just blinks back at him that Eddie didn’t explain how much is actually involved in all this.

But Wayne takes the time to show him some of the stuff he already has packed in the bed of his truck.

“I thought we were staying in a cabin. Why do we have a tent?” Steve sounds nervous when he asks.

“It’s not a full tent. Just a canopy to hang up to protect us from the sun if we get caught up somewhere during our hike.”

“Hike?” Steve turns towards the trailer, glaring at Eddie, who is too busy trying to figure out which of his sneakers to wear to notice. “He didn’t say anything about hiking. I don’t have boots or, or, anything!”

Wayne grabs Steve’s shoulders, looks him in the eye, and lets out a laugh.

“Do ya think Eddie would agree to go on a hike that requires special boots?” Wayne shakes his head. “Don’t think I could bribe him to go on anything but an easy trail unless that Lars guy from Metallica was at the end of it.”

“So I’ll be fine in my Nikes?” Steve clarifies.

“Better than.” Wayne turns back to the truck bed. “I grabbed an extra pole for ya, but it’s a bit short. We can make it work, though.”

Steve stares at everything piled into the truck. Wayne stares at Steve.

He can’t read him quite like he can read Eddie, not yet, but he’s got a feeling that Steve’s overwhelmed by the effort. Wayne doesn’t know much about his upbringing, but he can imagine it was pretty lonely what with his parents being gone more than they were home.

He’s certain Richard Harrington wouldn’t even know how to cast a line, let alone catch a fish.

“Wayne! Should I just bring both?” Eddie’s standing barefoot on the top step of the deck, holding two pairs of sneakers up.

“Sure, Ed.” Wayne looks down at his bare feet and wrinkles his nose. “Don’t forget your socks.”

“Does he do that a lot?” Steve asks, still staring at everything in the truck.

“Not so much anymore. When he’s got a lot on his mind, though, he forgets little stuff. Socks, underwear, eating.” Wayne could go on, but he’s pretty sure Eddie will kill him if he does. “He’s excited for this trip so it probably isn’t at the front of his mind.”

“Right, yeah. I noticed that.” Steve finally looks at Wayne, small smile on his face. Fond, Wayne would say. “He was so caught up on picking up the kids for game night, he forgot the games.”

“Sounds like our boy,” Wayne said, waiting for any kind of negative reaction from Steve at his words.

But Steve’s smile grew, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He looked over at where Eddie had been standing moments ago, and Wayne watches him.

“Steve, I feel like-“

“Wayne! We forgot hot dogs!” Eddie calls from inside the trailer, front door wide open allowing him to see Eddie’s movement by the fridge. “And buns!”

Steve looks back at Wayne. “I can run and get some while you finish up here.”

“I already grabbed them. Check that red cooler and the bag next to it,” Wayne gestured towards three coolers along the side of the truck bed. “He wasn’t payin’ attention when I told him I was packin’ everything.”

“Not surprising.”

“We got it all Ed! Throw your bag in and let’s go!” Wayne calls towards the trailer. “He’s gonna throw a fit about ridin’ in the middle, but that’s what he gets for bein’ a bean pole.”

Steve snorts as he walks over to open the passenger door. “He’ll live.”

Wayne thinks Steve’s gonna fit right in.

- - -

The cabin is off the beaten path. It’s actually off of all paths. They’re lucky that Wayne’s friend visited recently to clear bushes and trees away so they could get to it.

Forest surrounds it on three sides, the lake is in the back.

It’s quiet, an escape for all of them, but especially for Eddie. Whatever thoughts are trying to cloud Eddie’s mind might just float away in the fresh air if he manages to relax enough.

They unload the truck efficiently, bringing everything inside except the fishing equipment, which stays on the front porch so Wayne can load it on the boat before nightfall. He doesn’t bother locking his truck up; There’s no one around for two miles at least.

Steve’s loading things into the fridge and Eddie’s…

“Where’s Ed?” Wayne asks as he grabs his duffel bag to bring to one of the bedrooms.

“Said he wanted to see how cold the water is,” Steve shrugs, shoving the beer to the side so he can make room for Eddie’s Mountain Dew. “Told him it’s probably not that cold since it’s August.”

“Anything less than boiling is too cold for that one,” Wayne chuckles. “I’ll go load the boat.”

He goes out the back door, immediately locating Eddie at the water’s edge. At least he didn’t go far. He was a bit of a flight risk at the best of times and these weren’t really the best of times.

His shoes and socks are off, sitting in the mix of sand and rocks that make up the shoreline. The rocks are smooth, worn down over thousands of years of water and animals and people. Perfect for skipping across the top of the water, splashes disrupting the calm of a lake with few visitors this close to the end of summer.

Wayne showed Eddie how to skip rocks years ago, not on this lake, but a much smaller one that they’d visited for the day the summer before he started high school. It took him about 100 tries before he got it, but when he did, he’d beamed back at Wayne, proud of himself for possibly the first time in his life.

But he’s not skipping rocks now. He’s standing at the shoreline, where the small waves break against the sand, staring out at the horizon. Wayne is tempted to leave him be, but he can’t.

He walks up behind him, makes sure to clear his throat so he isn’t completely startled when Wayne stops right where the water stops. It licks right at the toes of his boots, but they’re his work ones, steel-toe.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile.

“Sorry, just wanted to dip my feet in.” Eddie apologizes as if Wayne would care that he’s already finding solace in the solitude of the lake.

“Stay out here as long as you want, kid. You okay?” Wayne watches as Eddie’s hands curl into fists and then relax against his thighs.

“Yeah. Thanks for bringing me out here. I’ll help load the boat,” Eddie offers, already turning towards Wayne fully and taking a step out of the water. Wayne holds his hand up to stop him. “What?”

“I got it. You can help pack the cooler in the mornin’.”

Eddie shrugs and turns back to the lake.

Wayne watches him for another minute, silent so he doesn’t disturb whatever thoughts are brewing in Eddie’s head.

As he walks back to the porch to grab the tackle boxes and poles for the boat, he sees Steve watching Eddie out the kitchen window, concerned frown and furrowed brow on his face.

Steve doesn’t notice him.

- - -

The first night is Wayne making dinner while Steve and Eddie argue over which side of the queen sized bed they’re sleeping on. He can’t help but laugh at how quickly it went from calmly suggesting the other person sleeps on the window side to personal insults.

When he hears Eddie say something about Steve’s hair being too big, he shouts for them to join him.

Dinner is relatively peaceful considering the warzone that was their shared bedroom moments before sitting down to eat. Everyone enjoys the chicken and green beans Wayne cooked, barely leaving any for leftovers. They talk about their plans for the morning, and Steve offers to clean up after they eat so Wayne can have an early night.

It’s kind of him, but he already knows their arguing is just gonna wake him up if they haven’t settled on the bed issue.

“How about you take turns sleepin’ by the window?” Wayne asks before agreeing to an early bedtime. “That way it’s fair.”

“But who has to sleep there tonight?” Eddie asks, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

“That’s stupid.”

Wayne raises his brow at Eddie’s crossed arms. “Draw straws then.”

“We don’t have straws.” Steve looks around the kitchen, trying to find something they can use in place of straws, but fails. “It’s fine. I’ll take the window.”

Wayne can tell he doesn’t want to, and he’s pretty sure he can guess why neither of them is thrilled with sleeping directly under a window that looks out into a dense forest, but Steve’s a self-sacrificial kind of guy. That’s been clear for as long as Wayne’s known him.

He also knows that Eddie, even as stubborn as he is, wouldn’t let a friend feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll take it tonight.” Eddie offers.

“No, it’s okay. I can take it.”

Wayne rolls his eyes. “Y’all will argue over anything.”

Steve and Eddie both turn to him with matching grins. “Mhm.” They agree in unison.

“Eddie takes window tonight,” Wayne says. “Steve can have it tomorrow night. Whoever catches the biggest fish this weekend gets to pick on the last night.”

“Sounds fair,” Steve nods, turning to Eddie to see if he agrees.

“Sure. Fair.” Eddie stands and starts clearing the drinks from the table.

Wayne decides to leave before he gets dragged into a new disagreement. He’s only got so much patience.

He’s not surprised to hear them go out the back door after the sun sets, voices quiet, but still audible through Wayne’s open bedroom window.

They don’t go far, just past the porch, about halfway to the water.

“You know, my dad would never have done anything like this with me,” Steve states, only a small hint of bitterness in his tone. “He didn’t believe in bonding time or whatever. Thought that was for fathers and sons who didn’t have a family business to maintain.”

“My dad never did either.” Eddie says back, and Wayne’s heart stops in his chest. “Probably couldn’t have stayed sober enough to make the drive to a place like this.”

Wayne waits for Steve to say something, anything. He waits for so long, he’s tempted to look out the window and see if he can see them under the light of the moon.

“Your dad didn’t deserve you,” Steve finally says, quieter than they’d been before, like he didn’t want to disrupt the quiet night with his words. “And you deserved better than him.”

“I had Wayne eventually. I have Wayne now.” Eddie replies just as quietly. “And you do too, ya know.”

Wayne isn’t much of a crier. He’s only done it a handful of times. But Eddie’s words make his eyes well up and his throat burn.

“He barely knows me,” Steve tries to argue.

“He knows enough. You were there for the worst of my shit. You still stick around. You’re here right now even though you could’ve turned down his invitation.” Eddie sounds like he’s holding back tears now. “If you mean a lot to me, you mean a lot to Wayne. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

Wayne wishes he could be a part of this conversation, or at least be able to see them both. He’s respecting their space as much as he can, though. He’s laying in his bed and biting back tears the way any respectful uncle would.

“I’m not used to meaning so much to someone.”

Wayne isn’t sure he hears him right, his voice breaking halfway through, but Steve couldn’t have said anything else.

He should stop listening. This is turning into something else entirely, he thinks. He shouldn’t hear whatever Eddie says next.

“You mean everything to me.”

Wayne closes his eyes, holds his breath, hopes that if Steve takes it the way he knows Eddie means it, that this doesn’t turn into a real fight. He hopes that Steve’s reaction is kind, even if it’s not what Eddie wants.

Wayne’s almost grateful that he can’t hear what Steve says next. Whether it’s rude or loving, he doesn’t want to be a part of this moment like this. He can’t close his window, they’d hear it. He can’t leave his room, he’ll just be in view when they come back inside.

He waits one minute, two, three. He hears a twig snap and then quiet giggling.

He smiles to himself as he hears footsteps heading back towards the cabin.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Eddie wakes up with Steve’s arms around him and something bubbling in his chest.

Could be heartburn, or it could be the love that’s been growing inside him for months.

He remembers their conversation last night, looking up at the stars and listening to the leaves gently brushing against each other in the breeze, and he can’t help the blush on his cheeks. When Steve kissed him last night, he was pretty sure he was dreaming.

This wasn’t a dream, though.

They stayed up way too late. Eddie knew the moment he looked at the clock as they got into bed and saw 1:48 in bright red that he’d struggle today.

He could hear Wayne moving around the cabin, probably making coffee and breakfast for them since they’d need an early start for fishing. It wasn’t Eddie’s favorite thing to do, but Wayne loved it, and Eddie loved Wayne.

Steve groaned as he moved one arm above his head.

Eddie looks up at him, blushing harder when Steve’s half-lidded eyes are already looking down at him. He’s smiling, cocky if Eddie’s reading him right.

“Sleep okay?” Steve’s sleep-raspy voice asks, fingers gliding across Eddie’s upper arm in unknown patterns.

“Mhm. Not long enough,” Eddie admits. “Could stay in bed.”

Steve hums in agreement before seemingly realizing that Wayne’s already up. “Don’t think we can skip out on Wayne, though.”

This is why Eddie has a hard time pushing his feelings down for Steve. He’s done this before, whether he realizes he did or not.

In the hospital, the day after he’d woken up, Steve had stopped by to bring some clothes for Wayne since he refused to leave Eddie’s side. The kids had apparently been hounding him to take them with him, but he stood his ground and told them that Eddie needed time with just Wayne right now and that he needed rest.

A few weeks later, Steve could’ve easily taken Eddie home by himself, but insisted on waiting for Wayne to get off of work to do it.

Just a week ago, Wayne had forgotten a few things at the store, and when Steve overheard him grumbling about having to make another trip, he offered to go.

That’s just who Steve is.

Eddie loves him for it.

“Yeah. He’d be so bored without me scaring the fish away with my constant humming and leg jiggling,” Eddie agrees seriously. “Wouldn’t want him to miss me.”

Steve lets out a loud laugh, and Eddie hides his pleased smile in Steve’s chest.

He can’t believe he’s doing this right now, can’t believe Steve’s arm tightens around him, pulls him closer so all he can feel and smell is Steve.

“You could just stay quiet while we fish,” Steve suggests, as if Eddie hasn’t thought of that already. “Just for a little bit.”

“That sounds boring.”

Steve pokes Eddie’s cheek with his other hand. Eddie nips at his fingertip before Steve can pull away. They both laugh.

It’s easy.

A knock on the door interrupts the casual cuddling, but Eddie knows it’s not because Steve’s ashamed to be caught with him like that. Steve isn’t used to this being okay.

“You boys up?” Wayne’s voice is barely muffled through the door, something Eddie notes for later.

“Yeah!” Eddie calls back, though he probably didn’t need to speak more than normal volume.

Steve is tense below him. Eddie hates that.

He tries to soothe him by running his hand along his side, memorizing the bumps of his scars, keeping his breathing even so Steve would calm down. Wayne wouldn’t walk in without Eddie telling him he could, but Steve must’ve assumed he didn’t respect his space that much.

“Breakfast is done. Just made eggs and toast.” Wayne knocks once more on the door before they can hear his footsteps walking back to the kitchen.

Steve relaxes and sighs.

“You don’t have to do that.” Eddie still traces along the scar on his hip. “Wayne’s cool.”

“I know.” Steve goes to sit up, but Eddie holds him down. “Eddie, I know. It’s okay. I didn’t mean to react like that.”

“There’s a price to pay before you get up.”

Steve snorts. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss.”

Steve kisses the top of Eddie’s head.

“Unfortunately, I won’t be accepting that form of payment.”

Steve’s hand cups Eddie’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly as he guides his face up to look at him. Eddie hopes he can’t feel the heat on his skin, but the odds aren’t great.

“One kiss.”

“Only one?” Eddie pouts.

“Don’t wanna get carried away when we’re supposed to be getting up.” Steve leans in until his breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “So one kiss and then you let me leave so we can go fishing with your uncle.”

“Fine.” Eddie can’t help smiling into the kiss. It’s quicker than he wants, but it’s perfect. When Steve pulls away, Eddie groans and falls flat on his back. “What if we fake sick?”

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs as he gets out of bed and tries to get changed into regular clothes.

Eddie watches him, can’t wipe the smile off his face as Steve nearly trips over his own pant leg. He doesn’t even care if Steve catches him looking, not anymore.

He gets to look now.

After Eddie’s confession last night, after their first kiss, and the second and third, and talking for two hours by the water, it was pretty obvious that they were skipping over that new relationship awkwardness. Eddie hadn’t quite said he loved Steve, and Steve hadn’t said it either, but actions spoke louder than words. The way they couldn’t stop touching, the way Steve looked at Eddie while he talked about his most recent adventure with Dustin, the way Eddie watched Steve throw rocks as far as he could into the depths of the lake, it was all love.

“If you keep looking at me like that, I’m never leaving this room.” Steve is looking at him as he buttons his jeans and Eddie is considering sending Wayne on his own.

He waited months for this, but now it felt like waiting another hour was too much.

“Looking at you like what?” Eddie asks innocently.

“Like you wanna eat me.”

“Well…” Eddie wiggles his eyebrows and taps the bed. “I could eat breakfast in bed if you get back in it.”

Steve walks over to the bed, leans over Eddie, gets close enough to nip at his top lip.

“Get out of bed.” He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s lips before walking to the door. He leaves it open as he leaves the room without looking back.

Eddie curses Steve’s ability to get him to do anything, and reluctantly gets out of bed. He throws on his shorts, a tank top, and ties his bandana in his hair so he doesn’t have to worry about it sticking to his forehead.

When he gets to the kitchen, Wayne and Steve are staring out the window and whispering.

“I didn’t think we’d see a marsh hawk. Population’s been down for the last decade,” Wayne’s saying as Eddie walks up on his other side. “I’ve only seen one before and that was during a trip to Lake Michigan when I was 14 or 15.”

Eddie looks out the window, trying to see what they see. He’s not sure what a marsh hawk looks like, but he’s assuming it’s one of the birds in the nearby trees.

Steve wordlessly points it out to him.

“That’s a cool bird.” Eddie says at a normal volume. The bird spreads its wings out, acting as if it might take off. It’s beautiful, the white along its beak and chest a stunning contrast to its dark brown wings.

“It’s good luck to see one in some cases,” Wayne whispers as he turns away from the window. “Seeing one on your wedding day is supposed to lead to a long and happy marriage.”

“Too bad no one’s getting married here today,” Eddie remarks as he grabs a plate and starts to scoop eggs onto it.

“Not married. But still good luck,” Steve mutters as he follows Eddie. “So we just have to grab the cooler on our way out?”

Wayne nods. “And the bait.”

“I thought we used plastic stuff.”

“We use lures, but we put worms on there to get the fish to actually bite,” Wayne explains. “I’ve got plenty of stuff for bass, but I dunno how lucky we’ll be.”

Eddie nods along as he takes a huge bite of toast. “One time we forgot worms and had to use hot dogs.”

“Fish eat hot dogs?” Steve asks in surprise.

“Some fish settle for hot dogs. They don’t quite realize ‘til it’s too late that it ain’t their food,” Wayne shrugs. “But we got plenty of worms for this trip. Should be perfect fishing conditions.”

They all ate in silence after that, but Eddie could feel Steve’s nerves building the closer they all got to clean plates.

Steve didn’t have to say it for Eddie to know he desperately wanted to impress Wayne, especially now that they were…something. They probably needed to clarify exactly what they were at some point soon. They would. Eventually. Tonight maybe.

Or tomorrow.

“I’ll clean up if you boys wanna finish getting ready.” Wayne offered as he scraped the last of his eggs onto his fork.

Eddie took him up on his offer, jumping up to go brush his teeth and get his sneakers on.

“You comin’?” He asks Steve, who’s still slowly eating the eggs he drenched in ketchup.

“Just a second,” Steve replies with his mouth full. “You can use the bathroom first.”

Eddie nods and leaves the room.

He hears the sink in the kitchen running a few seconds later, and the hushed voices of Wayne and Steve having a whispered conversation. He could sneak back, try to listen in, but he thinks that maybe Steve needs this minute alone with him.

He finishes what he needs to do quickly, though, and admittedly sneaks back towards the kitchen quieter than he normally would, hoping to overhear something interesting.

But all he walks into is Steve laughing as Wayne smiles back.

Eddie doesn’t find that he minds much, as long as they’re both happy.

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Being on the boat is different as an adult.

The last time Eddie fished with Wayne on a boat, he was barely shoulder height on him and 100 pounds soaking wet. It was a much smaller boat, though, barely fit two grown adults comfortably.

This boat, however, was built for a family of at least four adults. The awning covered half of the boat, so Eddie didn’t have to sit in direct sunlight when the sun finally rose.

Steve stood to the side, watching Wayne prep the lures and bait, casting his own line out and reeling it in until it was taut. Eddie went next, making a show of it just like he always did. Wayne doesn’t comment, just shakes his head and smiles fondly as he watches the water.

“Um,” Steve starts. “I guess it’s my turn.”

Eddie’s pretty sure Wayne knows Steve’s nervous. It’s hard not to tell with how quiet he’s been the entire ride to the middle of the lake.

Wayne sets his pole in the stand at the stern, and turns to Steve with his hands on his hips. “You saw how I cast mine?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t look sure. Eddie’s not really used to seeing Steve anything less than confident, even in the face of monsters.

It hits him the moment he thinks about monsters.

They’re on a lake. A lake very similar, though much larger, to the same lake that almost dragged Steve to his death. A lake he’d previously trusted, and no longer could.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just subtly places his hand against Steve’s hip, offering whatever comfort he can. Steve won’t admit he’s scared, but Eddie doesn’t need him to.

Wayne sees it, Eddie knows he does. But because he’s the best uncle, he doesn’t say anything.

He raises a brow and then schools his features back to a comforting smile before showing Steve how to hold the pole so he can cast it comfortably and far enough out that movements from the boat don’t scare the fish from the hook.

Eddie watches, and he sees the nerves slowly easing from Steve’s shoulders, his forehead, and his arms. He relaxes inch by inch, and Eddie couldn’t be more in love.

Wayne steps back so Steve can cast his line.

When the bobber hits the water, Wayne smiles and pats his shoulder. “Good job, son. Now reel it in a bit so you can feel if something bites. Good. Now we just wait.”

Steve turns red at the praise and Eddie realizes that Steve probably hasn’t heard a “good job” from an adult in a very, very long time.

Eddie’s childhood was fucked, but at least Wayne was there cheering him on, showing him what it meant to be proud of your kid eventually. He’s pretty sure Steve hasn’t had that for most of his life.

“How long do we wait?” Steve asks after a few minutes.

The lake is near silent, and the water is so smooth it looks like glass. If Eddie leaned over, he’d probably be able to see his reflection. The gentle lapping of water on the side of the boat and the distant sound of birds in the trees lining the water’s edge fills the air.

“I usually give it 10 or 15 minutes before reeling it in. Check my bait, maybe change the lure if there’s no bites.” Wayne’s watching the end of Steve’s line as he speaks. “I used bass lures on all of ours, but we might change them up in a minute. See what else is out there.”

Steve nods and turns back.

Wayne doesn’t take his eyes off of Steve’s bobber.

Eddie watches Wayne curiously.

Anytime he’s fished with Wayne, he’s left Eddie to his own devices after showing him what to do. He watches his own line, and only steps in to help if Eddie catches something and doesn’t wanna touch the fish.

Wayne’s eyes widen just as Steve exclaims, “Hey! Look!”

“Reel it in!” Wayne shouts, setting his pole down again and rushing to stand next to Steve.

Eddie turns and watches as Steve reels in whatever he’s caught. Judging by the bend in the pole, it’s a decent sized fish.

“Shit, what if it breaks?” Steve asks, voice shaking with the effort of trying to reel in the fish before it escapes.

“It won’t. Keep going.”

When they manage to get the fish out of the water and into the boat, Steve is breathless.

“Look at that!” Wayne holds up the line, right above where the hook is caught in the fish’s mouth, beaming at Steve. “Our boy got himself a king salmon!”

Ignoring his mention of “our” boy, Eddie steps closer and grips Steve’s shoulder, shaking him just enough to make the boat rock.

“How can you tell?” Steve asks Wayne, reaching out to hold the fish up himself.

“You see all these black spots on his back and fins?” Wayne points at a few of the spots. “Other salmon don’t have this many spots or any at all. You keepin’ him or throwin’ him back?”

Steve looks at Eddie, smile falling as he suddenly looks unsure about what the right thing to do is. Before Eddie can say anything, Wayne wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Either is fine with me. Could cook him up for supper if you wanna keep him or send him back to his friends with a new piercing.” Wayne looks over at Eddie. “Eddie ain’t much for seafood, but I make a mean baked salmon.”

Steve nods. “Yeah, think I’ll keep this one.”

Wayne pats his shoulder again before showing him how to unhook the fish safely. He opens up the empty cooler he brought and places the fish inside.

Wayne moves to grab the bait so Steve can set up again, and while his back is turned, Eddie takes a chance.

He leans over and kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re a natural,” Eddie whispers as he leans away again.

“Shut up.” Steve is blushing that same pretty pink that he was last night and earlier this morning. Eddie can’t look away. “Just lucky.”

Wayne catches two rainbow trout and Eddie manages to catch a small northern pike, which quickly gets thrown back when Eddie starts to make up a story about how it’s a teenager who got separated from its parents. Wayne shakes his head as Eddie carries on, but he’s used to it. Eddie never keeps his catch if he’s lucky enough to have one.

They relax as the day warms up, popping open cans of soda as the sun gets closer to the middle of the sky. It’s not about fishing anymore; It’s about soaking up the tranquility of their surroundings.

Eddie isn’t known for being still or quiet, but even he can let himself enjoy this. Every day since March has been about survival, and appointments, and witness statements, and lawyers, and moving, and the kids. He feels like he’s barely even had time to think.

So while he sits on this boat with two of his favorite people, he thinks.

He thinks about how different his life is now, and how different it could still be.

He thinks about how much Wayne has sacrificed for him for most of his life, but especially the last five months.

He thinks about how much he wants to tell Steve he loves him.

He thinks he’ll tell him tonight.

📼📼📼📼📼

Steve sits on the porch while Wayne cleans the fish, staying a good distance away so he doesn’t end up seeing things that’ll make him wish he left the poor salmon in the lake. Eddie’s inside doing god knows what.

He’s never been happier.

He does wish Robin could be here, but she hates the outdoors. She didn’t even like going on her family’s beach trip last month.

Plus, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been able to have the alone time he needed with Eddie last night if she were here. Even though she’s been telling him to just talk to him for the last three months, she wouldn’t have caught on to his plan.

Feeling this much for Eddie isn’t new.

After the events of spring break, Steve took a long, hard look at high school and realized that at least part of the reason he was always staring at Eddie was because he was very interested. He started looking for any excuse to stick around in Eddie’s hospital room, and then offered to take him to appointments, and it continued from there.

Now, they hang out almost every day. Sometimes it’s with the kids, sometimes with Robin, sometimes alone.

Steve realizes that even before they kissed and fell asleep holding each other and flirted as much as possible all day, this was the best relationship he’s ever had. He needs to tell Eddie as soon as they’re alone.

“All done,” Wayne says as he steps onto the porch, the container of cleaned fish in his hand. “You ready to learn the secret to makin’ the best fish?”

Steve is quick to nod, excited that Wayne thinks he’s even worth the time it’ll take to show him. Wayne’s been so kind this entire trip, making sure Steve is involved and welcomed, makes him feel like he belongs in their little family.

As Wayne grabs everything they’ll need, Steve sees Eddie through their bedroom door, writing in a journal, tongue poking between his lips as he concentrates. Steve’s never seen this journal, but he can assume it’s another one of his many already filled with songs and campaign ideas.

“You done starin’ at Ed?” Wayne’s voice is quiet behind him, but still makes him jump with surprise.

“Wasn’t staring at him. Thought I saw a…um…bug?” Steve knows he’s been caught halfway through trying to lie, so he moves on. “Ready?”

“Are you?” Wayne raises a brow and smirks.

“Yes!” Steve puts his hands on his hips. “What are you implying?”

“Mostly that you’re too in love with my nephew to focus on what I’m sayin’.”

Steve feels heat in his cheeks, but he chooses to ignore it and pretend that he can distract Wayne from what he’s saying.

“So we’re frying your fish and baking my salmon?” Steve starts holding up some of the spices Wayne’s set out on the counter. He can feel Wayne’s eyes on him. “Looks like you like spice.”

“Steve.” Wayne sighs. “It’s okay to feel however you feel. I ain’t gonna judge.”

“Right. Yeah.” Steve turns to finally look at Wayne, who looks sad. He shouldn’t look sad right now.

“Eddie ever tell ya about Paul?” Wayne starts filling one pan with oil and the other with a few small pads of butter.

Steve shakes his head, watching closely.

“Paul was my boyfriend when Ed first came to live with me.”

Steve’s eyes widen as that hits him.

“Woulda been my husband had we been able to be married.” Wayne starts mixing flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl while he talks. “He was a long haul truck driver. Gone for weeks at a time. Stayed with me when he passed through. Came home one day to Eddie asleep in the bed we usually shared and asked if I’d been up to something.”

Wayne smiles fondly down at the bowl of eggs, buttermilk, lemon juice, and garlic he’d started mixing together as he spoke.

“Told him everything. Expected him to call it quits. He didn’t sign up for raising a troubled kid, especially not one who may not be okay with what we had.” Wayne stops and looks up at Steve. “But he just hugged me and said he’d follow my lead. Whatever was best for Ed was what was best for us. Ain’t sure I could ever find a love like that again.”

Steve can feel tears trying to form in his eyes, but he manages to bite them back. He’s pretty sure he knows where this is going, but he listens without interrupting.

“Ed didn’t take too well to him at first. Probably ‘cause he was in and out so much, didn’t get time to bond with him like I did. Paul was patient. Always so patient with both of us.” Wayne shakes his head and looks down at the counter before he looks up smiling again. “Ed came out to Paul first, ya know? When he was 13. He’d gone on a short haul with him over the summer and when they came back, they were thick as thieves. Paul told me that night that Ed had told him he liked boys and it changed their entire relationship. I was Uncle Wayne, but Paul was like a dad to him. Definitely more than his own dad ever was.”

Wayne looked over to check that Eddie was still in the bedroom, distracted by his writing.

“Paul started taking short hauls instead of long ones. Only gone three or four days at a time instead of 14-20. Thought it was so he could be close to Ed, since we’d kinda become our own little family.”

Steve realizes he’s holding his breath when Wayne sniffs.

“He’d gotten sick and didn’t tell us. Started out thinkin’ it was pneumonia, but it got worse. Doctor thought it was heart problems, but it was everywhere. Leukemia. Untreatable by the time they figured it out.”

Steve’s wrapping his arms around Wayne before he even realizes he’s doing it, letting the tears fall as he thinks about how much pain Wayne and Eddie must’ve gone through to lose someone so important to them.

“Ed was barely 14 when he passed. I think he took it harder than me.”

Steve can’t even imagine. Wayne lost someone he loved, but Eddie lost a father figure after losing his real father to things he should never have had to compete with. And now Eddie’s father was really dead.

All he really has is Wayne.

“Kid shaved his head in solidarity when Paul lost what little hair he had left,” Wayne huffs a wet laugh as they pull away from each other. “Couldn’t believe it when I got home from work and they were both bald as cue balls. Thought they’d lost it.”

Steve and Wayne are both laughing, and it’s probably going to draw Eddie’s attention, but he kinda hopes it does. He could use Eddie’s closeness right now. He needs to see that he’s okay, that this didn’t completely destroy him, that he went on anyway.

But all Eddie does is yell at them to keep it down, which just makes them laugh harder.

“And you never dated anyone else?” Steve asks as Wayne starts putting his fishin the egg mixture. “Not even for fun?”

“Nah. Once Paul was gone, I had to work more to pay the bills. What little time I had was spent with Ed. He was my priority, always.”

Steve wipes the tears from his cheeks as he watches Wayne drop the fish into the hot oil.

“What about now?” Eddie was busy with his own life now, and they’d received enough money from the government to cover their new trailer and have plenty leftover to cover bills. Wayne was retired and had plenty of time to start dating again.

“I got lucky with Paul. It ain’t fair to compare any future relationship to what we had and I think that’s all I’d do. I’m happy the way things are for now.”

Steve drops it for now, but he makes a note to ask Eddie about it soon. He’s surprised Eddie never mentioned Paul, or even the fact that Wayne was gay, especially when he came out to Steve and Robin while he was still in the hospital.

Wayne goes on to explain how long he keeps the fish in the oil before flipping them to make sure the cooking is even, and how putting them onto paper towels to cool drains too much of the grease.

As Steve watches him prep the salmon with a glaze he made from garlic, honey, and lemon juice, Eddie finally comes out of the bedroom.

“Smells like fish,” he says with a grin.

“That’d be the fish.” Wayne doesn’t even bother looking over at him as he leans against the counter. “Salmon is already a tender fish, so you can bake it to whatever you prefer. It should only take about 10 minutes on 400 unless you like it extra crispy, then you may wanna do it for 13 minutes.”

“Chef Wayne teaching you everything you need to know?” Eddie asks Steve, stepping close enough for Steve to feel the heat coming from his body.

“He’s pretty talented. Might need to consider opening a restaurant,” Steve teases.

“Wait ‘til you have his steak. So tender you could cut it with a spoon.”

“Don’t know what you’re after with your compliments, but I’d rather ya just ask for it.” Wayne checked the clock as he closed the oven door.

“I was just bein’ nice!” Eddie exclaims, throwing his arms up in frustration. Steve never noticed how Eddie’s accent changes the more time he spends around Wayne, but he smiles to himself when it slips now. “See if I give ya a compliment again, old man.”

Steve watches as they banter back and forth some more, both of them smiling and laughing the entire time.

It’s nothing like what Steve was used to. His parents never bantered, only fought. Anything that was big enough for discussion, was big enough to yell about. As Steve got older, he learned that staying quiet and letting them get it out would usually turn out better for him. Luckily, once he reached middle school, they didn’t bother coming home enough for him to worry about what to do when they were arguing.

He doesn’t remember a time when there was fun and laughter between them, not even when he was a young child. He can remember his mom dancing with him while his dad was gone on business trips, but the moment he arrived home, the air became thick with tension and her attitude became somber. He remembers one time when his dad let him sit on his desk while he worked, making paper airplanes and having a competition to see how far they could fly, but the moment the phone rang, he was hissing a ‘get out’ with no explanation for the abrupt stop to the fun.

Steve couldn’t imagine talking to either of his parents the way Eddie talks to Wayne, but he also couldn’t imagine receiving the love from them that Wayne so easily gives to Eddie.

And now that he knows another piece of their story, he can see how they’ve come to be like this, comfortable with each other in ways many kids never are with their parents.

Steve’s mind continues to wander throughout dinner, but no one calls him out on it. Maybe Wayne somehow communicated with Eddie that they’d had a serious conversation. Maybe it was just obvious that Steve was far away from the table. Eddie and Wayne chattered as they ate, and Steve let the constant echoes of their voices be the background noise to his thoughts.

“Stevie?” Eddie’s hand touched his cheek, shaking him out of the path he was lost on. “Wayne’s gonna take a walk. You wanna go?”

Steve smiles up at Eddie before looking down at his plate. He barely remembers eating, but he only has a few small pieces of salmon left.

“Sounds good.”

Eddie looks concerned, but Steve brushes him off. He looks around, and when he doesn’t see Wayne in the room with them, turns his face so he can kiss Eddie’s palm.

“Should we grab the bug spray?” Steve asks as he stands, pushing in his chair and grabbing his plate off the table to wash it.

“Wayne’s got it outside. Think he put enough on for all of us,” Eddie follows close behind Steve. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“A lot.” Steve brushes it off so they can join Wayne. “Ready?”

Eddie nods and leads the way out of the cabin.

They ate an early dinner, so the sun is still high in the sky as they make their way down a trail that follows the lake’s edge. Eddie occasionally gets distracted by colorful rocks, holding them up excitedly for Steve and Wayne to acknowledge.

Steve knows the love he has for Eddie is written all over his face.

He doesn’t care to hide it.

Wayne’s quiet as they walk, occasionally pointing out a fish splashing in the distance or a heron standing in the water. He swats a mosquito away from Steve’s face, only for the mosquito to turn around and bite his hand. Eddie’s far too busy climbing over fallen limbs and branches of trees to notice what they’re doing.

“You boys should go for a swim when we get back. Water’s cool.” Wayne makes the suggestion without looking at Steve, who suddenly feels like he’s being studied under a microscope.

“Not sure if Eddie even brought a swimsuit.” Steve laughs it off, hopes they can go back to silence or change the subject.

“I’m sure you boys could figure something out.”

Thankfully, the topic gets dropped and Steve is left wondering if Wayne knows.

Sure, he joked about Steve being in love with Eddie earlier, but that wasn’t a confirmation that he knew they were together. He thought they’d been careful today, but maybe Wayne caught them when they kissed by the truck when Eddie was grabbing his wallet from the glovebox.

He doesn’t have time to think about it more because Eddie lets out a yelp and they can only watch as he falls on his ass into a muddy spot between two large rocks.

“I hate the outdoors,” he grumbles as he stands.

Wayne is laughing, but Steve is rushing over to make sure he’s okay.

“Are you hurt?” Steve’s hands are hovering over him, trying to figure out if he sees any blood. “Did you hit your head?”

“I’m fine, sweetheart,” Eddie replies quietly, holding his arms out as if trying to show proof. “My dignity may be a bit bruised.”

They’re interrupted by the hooting of an owl. It’s loud enough that Wayne shushes them and starts looking around at the trees surrounding them, trying to locate the creature.

It hoots again before Wayne locates it, pointing to a tree only ten feet away and to their right.

“Wow.” Steve says as he gets a close look at it, the white and tan feathers blending into beautiful patterns. “It’s so small. I thought owls were bigger.”

Eddie’s looking up at it, smiling.

To Steve’s shock, he’s the one who responds, not Wayne.

“It’s a northern saw-whet owl. They’re closer to the size of a robin than an owl you may be thinking of.” Eddie reaches for Steve’s hand and squeezes it once before letting it drop. “Paul taught me about all kinds of owls.”

Steve’s head snaps towards him. “You heard us this morning, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t quiet,” Eddie shrugged. “I used to be obsessed with nocturnal animals. He bought me a book about bats and owls for Christmas and went through it page by page with me.”

“I remember that book,” Wayne looks at the owl while he talks. “Paul said it made him nervous to go out at night.”

Eddie laughs. “He was convinced we’d get attacked.”

Steve can’t blame him. The longer he looks at the owl’s impossibly large eyes and spread wings, the more he believes he’s being hunted.

“Ready to head back?” Wayne asks after another minute, drawing his attention away.

“Wish I had a camera like Byers. Probably could get a good picture.” Eddie says as he starts to walk back the way they came.

Steve takes note to ask Jonathan about his so he can get him one for Christmas.

When they make it back to the cabin, Wayne excuses himself to take a shower and do a crossword before bed, which leaves Steve and Eddie to fill their time however they want. Steve thinks back to Wayne’s suggestion about going for a swim, but he’s not sure Eddie would want to now that the sun’s almost set.

He’s not even sure he wants to get into the lake after dark.

But it does sound appealing, especially with the layer of damp sweat coating his skin from their walk. And there is a light on the dock that would make it easier to at least see each other.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Steve asks Eddie as he sips on a soda.

“Now?” Eddie looks out the window in the kitchen, frowning at the darkness looming.

“Now.”

“It’s dark.”

“We can turn on the light at the dock. C’mon. Just a quick dip,” Steve nudges his shoulder as he starts walking to the back door, fully dressed.

“You’re not gonna change?” Eddie asks in disbelief.

“Don’t plan on wearing my clothes in.” Steve winks as he leaves, knowing Eddie will follow him even if he’s hesitant to do so.

Within seconds, the back door is closing and Eddie is on his heels.

“Are we seriously skinny dipping in the lake while my uncle is here?” Eddie hisses out, hand covering Steve’s forearm.

“I’m skinny dipping. You can do whatever you want,” Steve responds. “But I wouldn’t complain if you joined me.”

Eddie huffs beside him, but still follows him the rest of the way to the water’s edge. The light has a covered power switch to their right, but now that they’re in an open area by the water, they realize the moon is pretty bright.

Steve starts stripping off his shirt, then his shoes and socks. Eddie watches, probably trying to decide if he’s gonna join him or go back inside and pretend Steve isn’t naked in the water. When Steve pulls his pants off, Eddie sighs and starts untying his boots.

“Can’t believe you have me getting into another lake. Wasn’t the first time enough?” Eddie’s grumbling loud enough for Steve to hear, but quiet enough that Steve only catches every couple of words and has to use context clues for the rest. He can’t hold back a smile when he shoves his underwear down and leaves them on top of his pile of clothes.

Eddie is still grumbling as he removes his own clothes, enough that he’s distracting himself from realizing Steve’s already naked and waiting for him.

When he looks up, his eyes widen and his jaw drops open.

“You’re gonna catch flies like that,” Steve steps closer as he speaks, feeling more nervous than he expected to. “Probably should get in so the mosquitos don’t get us.”

“Right.” Eddie shakes his head, closing his eyes so he can focus. “Yes. Let’s get in.”

Steve grabs his hand and walks them both to the water. The water is chilly, but not uncomfortably cold. He knows in the next few weeks, the temperature will drop enough at night to cause the lake to be freezing cold. But right now, it’s perfect.

Being here with Eddie is perfect.

Eddie breathes out slowly as they keep walking further in, squeezing Steve’s hand.

“All good?” Steve asks when they’re waist deep.

“Yep. All good. How uh…how far do you wanna go?” Eddie’s looking out at what little they can see of the lake, even with the moonlight glistening off the tiny waves of the lake.

“Just a little more.”

Steve doesn’t take Eddie’s trust for granted here, knows that he’s asking a lot of him.

When the water is just below his collarbone, he stops.

Eddie is tense next to him, but doesn’t seem to be panicking.

“Okay?” Steve asks.

Eddie looks around and then settles back on Steve. “I’m okay.”

Something about the way he says it makes Steve pause, though.

“You can let it out if you need to, baby,” he offers. He’s not sure what it is specifically that makes him think Eddie’s on the edge of tears, but he wants to give him the chance to cry. “I’m right here.”

Eddie doesn’t sob, or cry, or do anything for a minute. They’re both looking out at the dark lake and the moon above, listening to crickets and a gentle breeze in the leaves of the trees nearby. Eddie’s breathing just stops for a few seconds and that’s all the warning Steve gets before he’s sniffling and talking.

“My dad was a piece of shit,” he starts. Steve is gonna follow his lead, and listen, and let Eddie tell him whatever he wants to. Even if that’s all he says. “He hated me. Pretty sure he hated my mom towards the end of her life, too. Anything that put attention on someone other than him was no good. That’s why he got involved with the closest thing Hawkins had to a mafia.”

Steve rubs his thumb against the side of Eddie’s hand under the water, prompting him to continue.

“He ranked pretty high with them so he got plenty of attention. Forgot that he had a wife and a kid. When my mom died, he temporarily got more attention from everyone. Made sure he looked like the mourning husband trying to be strong for the son he barely knew. Even at four and five years old I knew he was full of shit. But at least he was taking me with him sometimes, showing me cool shit. He got arrested when I was seven for petty theft and possession of drugs. Got lucky that the judge believed his sob story of being the only one who could take care of me.” Eddie scoffed. “Paid a fine with money he stole and had to do 80 hours of community service that his boss signed off on after a few weeks. Didn’t care that the only meals I ate were at school and the neighbor’s house when she saw me alone for dinner. Didn’t care that I never had school supplies or clothes that fit. Didn’t care that I missed school anytime I missed the bus, which was often because he never gave me an alarm clock to set to get up in time.”

Steve wants to cry, hearing how shitty Eddie’s childhood was, but he refuses to right now. He doesn’t want Eddie to stop talking.

“When I was nine, he taught me how to steal a car. I could barely see over the steering wheel, but it was the first time I made him proud.” Eddie clears his throat. “He got sent to prison when I was 11. I got put in the system because everything is a mess and Wayne wasn’t even listed as my uncle anywhere. Wayne heard about it all a few weeks later and didn’t stop pushing to have me in his care until they gave in. I’m surprised they put up so much of a fight considering they don’t usually care that much about poor kids with shit parents. Wayne fought for me and I didn’t even know how much he did until I was older.”

Steve glances over to see tears falling down Eddie’s face. He let go of Eddie’s hand to wrap his arm around his waist instead, pulling him against his side.

“He didn’t have to do that. He just knew what a piece of shit my dad was and apparently checked on me a few times a year without me or him knowing. And he told you about Paul.” Steve nods. “Paul was in and out a lot at first, made me suspicious. Thought he was up to no good and just using Wayne as a place to sleep when he wasn’t in the truck. But then he took me with him a few times over the summer and we got closer. I don’t think Wayne even knows how much that man loved him. He was gonna start working more local jobs sooner until I came into the picture and Wayne was struggling to keep up with bills. Long haul makes more money, so he stayed out. Made sure I had clothes and school supplies, made sure I ate three meals a day and had whatever snacks I wanted. Sent payments to the electric company before Wayne even got the bill so I never had to worry about sleeping through alarms or not being able to take a hot shower.”

Steve didn’t realize he was crying until Eddie reached his thumb up to wipe away a tear.

“He was my father in the ways that mattered to me, just like Wayne has been. Losing him was more painful than anything I feel about my dad dying now. All I feel now is guilt that I feel anything at all.”

Steve uses the arm wrapped around Eddie’s waist and the weightlessness the water allows to lift him up and guide his legs around his waist. He’s looking up at the man he loves, holding the back of his thighs, and wishing he could take every shitty feeling away with his words of comfort.

“You can feel however you feel. I’ll love you through it all,” Steve reassures him. Eddie’s breath catches at his words, and Steve knows he chose the right thing to say at the right time. “No one who cares about you is gonna judge you for having any emotion about your dad dying. If you wanted to stand in the middle of a table in the cafeteria at the school and cheer, I’d sit at the table and cheer you on. If you want to show up at his grave and scream and cry, I’ll hold your hand the whole time. So will Wayne. And so would Paul.”

Eddie sobs as he wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hides his face against Steve’s neck. Steve can feel the wetness of his tears, can feel his own still falling into the water below. He doesn’t care how long they stay like that, doesn’t even care if this is all they do all night.

But only a few minutes later, Eddie is pulling back and looking down at Steve, hands playing with the wet ends of his hair.

“I didn’t expect any of this this weekend,” he admits. “I should learn to stop having expectations.”

Steve’s lips turn up in a half-smile as Eddie rests his forehead against his. “Better or worse than what you expected?”

Eddie snorts. “Better. Always better with you.”

Steve’s glad it’s dark enough to hide his blush, but he’s sure Eddie knows what he does to him by now. If he doesn’t, he will soon enough.

Eddie traces a line along Steve’s neck, gently poking at his moles as he watches his own movements. Steve holds him, lets him do what he wants, feels every touch like lightning.

“I love you,” he finally says, barely more than a whisper, like he’s unsure it’s okay, even after Steve’s confession. “I think I have for a while.”

Steve wants to kiss him, but this moment still feels like a part of Eddie’s monologue. He wants Eddie to lead now, to show him how to love him. Whatever he needs, Steve will give it willingly and gladly.

“How long until Wayne comes to make sure we didn’t drown?” Eddie asks.

“Probably not unless we’re still gone by morning.”

“As lovely as being in your arms all night sounds, I don’t know if I’d wanna stay in the water that long,” Eddie laughs as his legs tighten around Steve’s waist. Their mostly soft cocks brush against each other, making them both inhale loudly. “A little longer might not be so bad, though.”

Steve’s finding it harder not to kiss him, not to let his hands wander from Eddie’s thighs, up to his waist, back to his ass. He resists, but Eddie shifts his weight again and everything gets harder.

“You’re killing me.” Steve groans, letting his head fall back so he can look up at the stars in the sky instead of the ones in Eddie’s eyes.

“Look at me.” Eddie’s tone’s shifted to something serious, still adorned with an affection Steve can’t believe he gets to hear. Steve looks at him with his lips parted and unblinking eyes. “I wanna be yours. Will you let me?”

Steve nods. That’s all he can do.

Eddie’s lips are against his, gently coaxing them apart further so he can slip his tongue inside. Steve’s not even thinking about how he hasn’t brushed his teeth or eaten a mint since supper, the warmth of Eddie’s hands circling behind his back and rubbing his shoulders enough of a distraction even without his tongue gliding against the roof of his mouth.

Eddie’s hands are slow, but on a very clear path downwards as his tongue traces Steve’s bottom lip. Steve lets his own hands slip to Eddie’s lower back, lets a finger trace up and back down his spine.

Eddie shivers in his arms.

“Cold?” Steve whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Feels good.”

So Steve does it again, with more pressure, hoping Eddie gets the hint.

When Eddie’s hips grind forward, he knows he did.

They’re both nearly fully hard now, lips meeting again, hungrier and biting. Their moans vibrate between their chests, every movement rippling the water around them.

Eddie’s rocking his hips back and forth, friction against their cocks not quite enough to do more than get them more worked up.

The water doesn’t feel cool anymore, Steve’s body already adjusted to the temperature the moment Eddie’s hands were on him.

“Can I touch you?” Eddie asks, bringing Steve out of his thoughts about doing this in his pool when they got home. His hand is flat against Steve’s stomach, fingertips dragging through his happy trail.

“Want you to feel good too, love,” Steve trails one of his hands to Eddie’s front, stopping for a moment on the angry scars covering his side. “Together?”

Eddie slides impossibly closer, wrapping his hand around both of their cocks at once. Steve’s legs would’ve buckled without the help of the lake holding him up.

“Together is good,” Eddie smirks as his hand works them both over, squeezing at the tip the way Steve likes.

Steve had every intention of helping, but he’s doing all he can to keep his feet on the sandy ground and Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist. He whimpers as Eddie leans in to kiss him slowly, a contradiction to his hand speeding up around them.

“Eddie, I’m…close.” Steve pants against his lips when he pulls back for air. His toes are curling in the sand below, and the small waves around them are splashing against their necks as Eddie’s hand moves faster. Steve’s bucking up into his touch, doesn’t care how desperate he seems.

“Me too, Stevie.” Eddie reassures him, just as breathless as Steve is.

Despite the words spoken and the increasing heat coiling in his belly, Steve gasps in surprise when he comes. He’s even more surprised when Eddie is right behind him, whispering Steve’s name repeatedly as his grip around them tightens then loosens.

Chests heaving, legs shaking, they stare at each other in the glow of the moonlight.

“I normally last a lot longer,” Steve breaks the silence.

Eddie breaks into loud laughter, head falling onto Steve’s shoulder before he realizes that the water is too high to do that without getting wet. He drops his legs and stands, keeping his arms wrapped around Steve’s waist for stability.

“New record for me, too, baby.”

“Next time, we’ll take our time.” Steve promises not only Eddie, but himself. He knows he has better self control than what Eddie just witnessed.

“You wanna head inside and take our time there?” Eddie’s smirking at him, fingers playfully teasing his sides under the water.

“Not sure I can be quiet enough.”

“Even if you bite a pillow?” Eddie pouts.

“I can be pretty loud,” Steve laughs, poking his bottom lip back to normal. “Plus, I’d like to be in one of our own beds when we ma- have sex.”

“Oh my god. Were you gonna say make love?” Eddie is squeezing his arms around him, lifting Steve up so most of his chest is out of the water. Steve’s hands rest against his shoulders, fingertips pruned from being in the water for a while.

“Maybe I was.” Steve knows he’s a sap. He doesn’t care if Eddie thinks it’s silly or stupid, but he does wanna avoid blowing this before it even has a chance to begin.

Eddie must see something in his eyes to keep him from pushing it more. He lets him back down slowly, soft smile on his face.

“I love that you care that much.” Eddie kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I promise we’ll hold off on making love until we’re back home.”

Steve smiles shyly back at him.

“But I wouldn’t be opposed to getting my mouth on you after we shower.”

Steve smacks Eddie’s arm and rolls his eyes.

“You’re ridiculous. I love you.”

“You really do, don’t you?” Eddie sounds awestruck, like it’s suddenly hit him that this is happening, that Steve feels this much for him.

“I really do.”

🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸

Waking up in Steve’s arms for the second morning in a row felt too good to be true.

Most of this trip had felt too good to be true. Last night definitely felt like a dream.

He lets his eyes track over Steve’s bare chest, his neck, his lips pouting out as he sleeps. His eyelids are fluttering, but he’s still asleep, probably coming out of a dream.

Eddie’s fingers trace what’s left of the scar around his neck, touch light enough that Steve wouldn’t feel it in his sleep. He thinks about Steve’s bravery, how he dived head first into everything, be it protecting people from monsters or falling in love. Eddie knows Steve went without medical care after most run-ins in the Upside Down, and had only gotten some last time when Wayne insisted he do so while Eddie was in surgery.

The neck scars faded after they were patched up by a nurse, but many of his other wounds were deeper and infected, leaving a permanent reminder on his back and sides much like Eddie’s.

He traced along the outer lines of one of the scars shaped like a heart on his chest. Steve insisted it was just a weird oval, but Eddie insisted that it was a heart over his heart.

His chest hair has grown back in around it, nearly covering it up if you didn’t look close enough.

Eddie is close enough now.

It’s definitely a heart.

“Not sure how I feel about you staring at my chest that close,” Steve’s raspy voice fills his ear and he looks up to see Steve’s sleepy eyes looking at him. “Max at least had the decency to look from a distance.”

“Ha.” Eddie fake laughs. “I was just admiring your bountiful chest hair and the heart you wear on your sleeve.”

“It’s not a heart,” Steve groans as he covers Eddie’s head with his arms, pulling him on top of him. “You’re just blinded by love.”

“Who knew I’d be the optimist in this relationship?” Eddie breathes against Steve’s lips.

“Probably everyone who’s ever seen me in a relationship.” Steve kisses him quick, just a peck. “Let me up.”

“You’re the one who put me here.” Eddie doesn’t move. “Take me with you if you need to go so badly.”

“Eds, c’mon. I gotta brush my teeth.”

“So do I.”

Steve sighs. Eddie smiles.

“Fine.”

As Steve stands from the bed, Eddie wraps his legs around his waist, a mirror image to their time in the lake. Eddie’s not actually expecting Steve to carry him more than a few steps, but he blushes when he makes it all the way to the bedroom door.

“Still wanna come with me?” Steve raises his eyebrows like he knows Eddie didn’t expect him to take it this far.

“Can you seriously carry me down the hall?”

Steve stares blankly back at him. “I carried you for almost a mile when we got out of the Upside Down.”

“Touché.”

Steve manages to open the door with one hand before it goes back to Eddie’s leg, hoisting him up further so he has a better grip. Eddie just stares down at Steve’s face in amazement.

“Hey Wayne,” Steve says as they pass Wayne’s room. “Sleep okay?”

“Uh huh. There a reason you’re carrying the prince?” Wayne asks, causing Eddie to turn his head and scowl. “Wake up grumpy?”

“Woke up lazy.” Steve responded as he continued on the journey to the bathroom.

Once there, Steve set Eddie down on the floor and handed him his toothbrush. They brush their teeth together, smiling when they catch each other's eye in the mirror.

“Will you kiss me for real now?” Eddie asks after they’ve finished.

“Are you gonna walk to the kitchen by yourself or will I have to carry you?” Steve retorts.

“Your kiss will give me the power to make it.”

Steve snorts a laugh and leans in, his palm resting against Eddie’s jaw to pull him the last inch or so. The kiss is nothing like their back and forth. Steve consumes him, and Eddie lets him.

He doesn’t know how long they stand there, but he thinks it must be longer than they should.

Wayne clears his throat from the doorway. “Didn’t realize this was a part of brushin’ teeth these days.”

Eddie leaps away from Steve, panicked at the thought of Wayne knowing suddenly. He’s been out to Wayne for so long, he forgets that others probably aren’t comfortable being so open. Steve especially, who’s mentioned before that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to come out to everyone until he was sure they’d be okay with it.

“Relax, Ed. I clocked Steve months ago.” Wayne pushes past them to grab his toothbrush and toothpaste. “Move your relations outta here.”

“Relations?” Eddie gags. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“Sorry to ruin your delicate sensibilities. Get out.”

Steve pushes Eddie out of the small bathroom before he can respond. Eddie decides to focus on Steve’s hands on him instead of arguing further.

“Should we make breakfast?” Steve asks as they walk back to the bedroom to get dressed.

“I shouldn’t ever touch an oven, but I’ll watch you lovingly while you make breakfast, darling,” Eddie bats his eyelashes at Steve, who throws his shirt at him. “That’s not very nice. Did I not, and I quote, suck the soul-“

Steve’s hand covers his mouth while he sputters to cover Eddie’s voice from traveling out of the room.

“Jesus, the mouth on you.”

“That’s what you said last night.” Eddie’s words are muffled under Steve’s hand, but they both laugh. “I can make toast.”

“I’ll make the rest.”

Eddie spends the morning touching Steve as much as possible.

He spends the afternoon sneaking kisses and holding him in the hammock set up on the porch thanks to Wayne’s creativity.

He spends the evening watching Wayne and Steve fish while he drinks a beer and hands them whatever they need.

This is a peace that may only last until they leave tomorrow, but something tells him that this is only the beginning of a future Eddie never could’ve pictured for himself.

🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣🎣

five years later

Wayne slams the truck door a bit harder than he means to. The rain just started coming down harder and he wanted to get his bag in the cabin before it got worse.

When he enters the front door, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air and he smiles.

“Made it, boys!” He yells, though he’s pretty sure speaking at a normal volume would’ve been enough. The cabin hasn’t changed much, but Steve insisted on opening up the front portion so it felt more welcoming.

“Wayne!” Steve exclaims as he pops up from behind the counter of the kitchen. “You just missed Eddie. He went out to the trail.”

Wayne gives Steve a tight hug. At Steve’s frown, he laughs. “Sorry ‘bout the wet clothes. Started raining the last couple miles in and got heavier just as I was leavin’ the truck.”

“Oh no.” Steve groaned.

Just as he spoke, the back door slammed open and Eddie dropped his camera bag on the floor.

Wayne and Steve both took in the sight of him, drenched from head to toe, dripping onto the tile floor, and laughed.

“I hate the outdoors.”

“You’re a nature photographer. You hate the rain.” Steve walks over to him, still laughing under his breath. He picks up the bag before leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Wayne watches the exchange, fighting tears back at the reason he was invited to their cabin this weekend.

Eddie was proposing to Steve and wanted Wayne to be there to capture it with his camera. He didn’t care that Wayne was an old man who could barely operate a camera, he just wanted someone to do it.

He knew Eddie was also a little nervous and having Wayne there would help keep him calm.

Why he was nervous, Wayne didn’t know.

They couldn’t legally get married, but they might as well be anyway.

“Wayne!” Eddie bounces over to him and throws his arms around him, forgetting for a moment that he’s soaked. “You’re here!”

“I’m here. I’d like to be less wet, though.”

Eddie backs up and Wayne pats his shoulder.

“Both of you should go get changed. Dinner’s ready in ten minutes.” Steve interrupts on his way to put Eddie’s camera bag in their room.

“Yes, dear,” Eddie replies. Steve turns and glares for a moment before continuing on his way. Once he’s out of sight, Eddie sighs. “God, I love that man.”

“That’s why I’m here, ain’t it?” Wayne playfully shoves at Eddie’s arm. “We better listen to him. I’m starvin’ and I think he’d make us fend for ourselves if we show up at the table dripping wet.”

As Wayne changes, he can hear Steve laughing in their room, Eddie talking about something he saw outside in the usual dramatic way he spoke. He thinks back to the first time he brought his boys here together, how hushed they tried to be, how hesitant.

He looked over at a photo Eddie framed for this room so Wayne had something when he came to stay.

Paul was smiling at the camera, arm wrapped around Eddie’s shoulders, Wayne looking at both of them with a smile. He remembers laughing right after the picture was taken, and giving in and buying them both cotton candy. They insisted it wouldn’t make them sick, then proceeded to both rush to the nearest garbage can after they got off the Gravitron at the fair.

“Wayne! Steve’s bullying me!” Eddie yells.

“You probably deserve it!” He yells back.

“Unbelievable!” Eddie screams.

“Ha!” Steve yells.

Wayne shakes his head as he makes his way out to the chaos he chose to be a part of this weekend.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #wayne munson #stranger things #good uncle wayne munson #getting together #friends to lovers #post vecna #love confessions #wayne adopts steve

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sturniolotrip-samandcolby-lover · 6 months

Text

Colby Brock - oh baby

Summary - you have you nieces for the night with your boyfriend and decided you'd like to make a big step in your life together.

Word count- 1660

Warnings -none I don't think .not proofread

You woke up extra early this morning so that you could make sure the spare room was ready for your older nieces and so you could set up the travel cot in your room ready for your youngest niece.

You was surprised when you heard the deep morning voice of you boyfriend "need a hand with that" he suggest finishing with a chuckle as he watches you struggle with the cot that would soon have your sleeping niece in .

*Later that day*

I cleaned away the mucky faces on my nieces (Sophie 4 , Rosie 2 and Maisie 7months) .With a wet rag slowly wiping off what's left over from a chocolate pudding . "Do you two want to go and play in the living room?" I suggest to the oldest two girls .A quick reply from them both of a yes when they get up and walk towards the living room , I can already hear the mentions of ballerinas and a Princess tea party falling from their mouths .

I put their plates and spoons in the sink ready to be washed when I have a spare few minutes .I put all my attention to the babbling, chocolate covered face baby."do you want some more peach?" I ask her as if she can respond back to me .I finish the last spoonful of chocolate pudding as I move the spoon towards masie's mouth.

I look up as I heard the sudden sound of the tap running , to see Colby wiping the small plastic plates and small plastic spoons ."how can two small people make so much mess" he laughs as he picks up the sponge now strained a dark brown due to the chocolate.

"How was your hike love?" I ask him now wiping the baby's face free from chocolate as I place her on my hip .He kisses my head and replies "nice and quiet baby .How has it been with the girls ?"."been great my love although if you go in the living room there is a high chance you'll end up at a princess tea party" i say as i make a bottle up for the giggling baby thats reaching out for Colby.

"Can I have a cuddle " he asks , I hand him the bottle in one hand and Maisie in the other ."she's due a bottle babe , she takes it better in the rocking chair in the living room" I inform him as he follows me through to the living room where the older girls are playing.

I'm bombarded by my nieces "auntie y/n will you play ballerina with us please?" I walk towards the girls as Colby settles down in the rocking chair with the cooing baby .

"Okay but for half an hour and then it's bath and bed for you two" I tell them " why is Maisie allowed to stay up and We're not " Sophie asks insisting it's not fair ."because she has a different bath to you two , then she'll have cuddles and then baby Maisie will be in bed too " I tell her.

I spend what feels like forever playing ballerina , prancing around the room with my nieces following my lead and the occasional turn , hop and skip .I look up to see colby taking the odd picture or us 3 trying our best to be most delicate ballerinas we could be .

I look up to hear Colby singing humpty Dumpty to Maisie as she watches him in awe .She looks so tiny in his hands , I can't help but wonder how he would be if him and I had children of our own .

"Right girls it's time for bath and bed now" im responded with a few sad okays as I place rosie on my hip ."Sophie can you get yours and Rosie's pjs please , I'll put them on the radiator while you bathe so they're Extra toastie" I ask my oldest niece she doesn't respond instead she runs up the stairs to the spare room where I can hear her rummaging through her bag in hunt of the pjs .

"Are you okay sitting down here babe or do you want to come up with the baby?" I ask Colby ."I think we'll stay here , masie's think my singing is great she told me so herself" he says with a laugh he gestures for me to give him a quick kiss ." Call me when they're going bed and I'll come to say night " he says as im walking up the stairs still with rosie on my hip."alright love" i quickly shout back.

I lay both sets of small PJ's on the radiator as I put both girls in the bath , they're surrounded by rubber ducks , Dolly's and endless amounts of bubble . They look like little angels sitting on a cloud .I take the shampoo ready to wash Sophie's soft brown curls ."auntie y/n?" She asks ,"yes peach" i reply she smiles at the nickname she's had since birth."are you and Colby every going to have babies?" "Erm I hope so one day , why , would you like to have some cousins?" I ask confused.

"Yeah I think it would be nice , we'd have more people to play with when we come here" she replies so innocently "how are babies made?" She asks after a second of silence before I can give her a answer in which I was going to go down the stork route.Im cut up by a laugh , i look to the door to see colby and Maisie in the door way ." Just ask your mummy she'll tell you how babies are made " I tell Sophie .

"Are you two ready for bed now gremlins" I say as I pick Rosie up from the bath rapped in a towel and go to do the same with Sophie ."Colby can you come on and the close the door babe please , Rosie's new favourite thing is to run out of doors when she sees stairs"i inform him as he walks further in and closes the door still with maisie on his hip.

I get the girls dressed , moisturised and hair brushed into little plaits ."okay teeth time" I say cheerfully handing Sophie her brush already with toothpaste on .I do the same with Rosie's toothbrush as she sits on my lap .

"Bed time" i sing as Colby opens the door for the girls to walk to the spare bedroom , I give Rosie a kiss on the head as Colby gives Sophie a kiss on the head l.We then cross each other as I walk towards Sophie's bed to give her a kiss and for Colby to do the same for Rosie ."night girls , sleep well love you i say as i turn on the night light and close the door.

Colby hands Maisie to me as we head downstairs ready for some quality time with the little one .when i reach the living room i see that colby has already cleaned away the older girls toys and placed a mat and baby toys ready for Maisie.

I lay her down surrounded by her toys as I lie beside her on my stomach."do you want a drink love?" Colby asks me kissing my cheek ."please " I say looking into his blue eyes he walks off and returns holding some tea for me and coffee for him .He places the mugs up high as he lays down on the other side of Maisie with one of our fingers each in her hands.we spend the next half hour babbling and playing with the sweet baby until I notice her yawns are more frequent." I think someone is ready for her bath and bed now" Colby whispered nodding his head towards the baby ," I'll go start putting her in the bath , are you okay to put her stuff away please" I say to Colby in which he responds with already clearing some toys away .

I make my way upstairs to the bath already filling her baby bath up with baby soap and warm water .I wash her little body with a soft pink rag and wash what little bit of black hair she has .As I pull her out of the bath wrapped in a little pink towel I hear Colby walking up the stairs to see him with a freshly made bottle in one hand and a pink baby grow in the other .

I lather the moisturiser on Maisie's soft skin and put a nappy and baby grown on her . I brush her tiny tuff of hair and pick her up walking behind Colby towards the bedroom where her cot is next to my side of the bed .I lay her in her cott , kissing her head as colby hands me the bottle full of milk and I place it in Maisie's mouth .She instantly starts sucking .We both look at her in awe and she starts to fall asleep ."Colby" "y/n" we both say each others name at the same time ." Can we try for a baby " I whisper to Colby he says no response but kisses my lips ,"get down stairs " he says seductively "why " I respond knowing the answer already."well we don't want to wake the kids do we " he says with a smirk leading me out of the room .

Don't know how I feel about this one guys but I hope you like it , please comment follow and like .

Xoxo hj

#colby brock #samandcolby #colby brock x reader #fanfiction #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #the sturniolos #mattsturniolo #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo imagine #sturniolo

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leonw4nter · 7 months

Text

I Love You, Without Wax. Forever Yours, Leon

Boyfriend!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

Leon finally managed to find the keys to the jet ski, making sure Ashley stuck close to him as he fumbled with the slot for the key to try to get it to work. After a few minutes, he managed to get it to run, hopping in first before extending a hand to Ashley to help her get on since she had a slight limp going on. Revving it up, the water mobile got to work and moved them through the murky waters. He amped up the speed, swerving expertly through rocks but a rock he didn’t spot from underneath the water scratched the side of the jet ski, causing it to start taking in some water. They would both die at this rate; the hole wasn’t big enough and the water wasn’t rushing in fast but the weight of two people on the jet ski caused water to do more damage than it originally would. He had to come up with a vital decision: swim to freedom or send one person back home.

“Ashley!” He began. He turns around, locking a stern gaze with the blonde.

“I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say.” She nods, her expression serious and furrowed in focus.

“I’m going to jump from the jet ski and I’ll just see you out instead. This thing’s taking in water and with my weight added, we’re not going to make it. Since you’re lighter you won’t sink but with me, we will so I’ll get out. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, worry drawn all over her features; no layer of grime and soot could mask the fear in her eyes.

“What? Leon, you know I can’t–”

“Trust me, Ashley. I won’t leave you. Your father trusts me, right? I know what I’m doing. I’ll guide you on your way out of this cave. It’s just going to be like that one time we rode that cart.”

She still looks doubtful, unsure of what she’s going to do next with Leon just running alongside her in a matter of seconds if she nods her head. Leon’s right: her father trusts him and she does too. Whatever they did, they always made it out alive thanks to him so they’ll make it out of this one as well. With a shaky breath, Ashley sighs and readies herself to take the handles.

“I’ll jump in 3, 2, 1!” He counts down before jumping, barely making it to the docking area of the tunnel and starts running, making sure he’s running alongside Ashley. Ashley notices the jet ski grow lighter and suddenly a little more of the jet ski’s bottom isn’t submerged in water anymore. With newfound encouragement from this, she takes the handles and speeds off. Though she doesn’t exactly avoid the debris in the water expertly like Leon did mere moments ago, she’s still managing to do well and Leon’s sure her chances of making it out in one piece are high.

“That’s it!” He said. “Keep going until you make it out, I’ll watch you from behind!

She didn’t respond but Leon knew she heard him; she was just focused on trying to keep herself afloat and make it out alive from this hellish place. The island was blowing up, both Leon and Ashley knew that so time wasn’t on their side. Leon’s legs were starting to cramp up, having run at faster speeds without a break and running low on water content. Soon, he saw a tiny sliver of golden light at the end of the tunnel but this is where a serious explosion from within the cave was being set off; he wouldn’t make it in time.

“Go, Ashley! Keep going! You’re almost there! Just keep up the speed and don’t take your hands off of the handles!” He instructed, cupping his mouth to amplify his voice amidst all the booming and popping of explosives.

Ashley got to the ramp and sped up, coursing through the air before hitting the salty seawater with a large splash. Had she not held onto the handles, she might’ve fallen out of her seat when she landed on the water. Cautiously, she peeked on the side of the jet ski to look for the hole that formed. Thankfully that splash didn’t cause more damage, much to her relief.

“Leon!” She suddenly remembers. She circles nearer to where she came from, looking at the fiery dock. The dock was going up in flames, black smoke billowing from somewhere inside the island. “Leon!” She calls out again.

She moves a little closer to the dock but there is no sign of the agent. She suddenly recalls how his voice sounded more faint before she got it, which could mean he lagged behind and stayed there up until the explosion. But he’s Leon, right? He can’t just leave her like this, he’s got to come back too!

“Leon! Please, you promised that we’d both make it out didn’t you?” She exclaims as fear swells in her heart and threatens to render her lost and directionless.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s a bad day for you today: paper work is piling up, two department heads have already given you a talking-to over the mistake of the juniors under your team, and your fellow seniors aren’t helping you fix anything or get the other papers done. Sometimes you wished you were a field agent, actually going to places and moving around and fighting stead of sitting in a stuffy office and completing the never-ending load of papers dropped at your desk. Despite the strong urge to switch departments and just be a field agent for the thrill of it, you felt kind of guilty for wanting to voluntarily put yourself in physically taxing situations. Your Leon was a field agent once, until he never came back from a mission; he died making sure the president’s daughter got home in one piece. Even if it’s been well over a year since his death and you’ve managed to get back to normal, life still feels incomplete without him and his stupidly charming jokes.

“Y/N, we’re all going to hit the clubs later to look for some guys. Wanna come with–”

“Listen, Emerson.” You harshly articulated. “Instead of hitting the clubs to look for the newest hookup this week, why don’t you and the others get to your desks and actually do something productive. I got fucking yelled at by our superiors for shortcomings that was caused by you and the other little fucks but I took the brunt of it instead and you have the audacity to go out and party.”

“It’s not like I knew–”

“It’s not like you’d know because you’re a lazy piece of shit!” You fumed. The entire office falls silent, only the low thrum of the AC being heard in the space. Emerson’s face contorts into disbelief and slight shock, taking offense to your words even if it’s true. Her friends cross their arms and start whispering amongst themselves, shooting you with a disdainful look. With a roll of her eyes and an irritated huff, she takes a small stack of papers in her arms before heading to her cubicle.

“Damn bitch, I was just asking,” you hear her mutter under her breath.

“I don’t ever want to hear about Valentine’s Day, okay? The love of my life is dead.”

Your own words catch you and everyone else by surprise. Everyone, including yourself, had thought that you’d formally come to terms with the loss of Leon but it seems that there’s still a part of you that will forever subconsciously wish for him to miraculously come back. You promised Leon that you’d always be happy every Valentine’s Day, even without him but here you are: acting like the Valentine’s Day counterpart for the grinch. Everyone in Leon’s department and yours knew that you two were one soul in two bodies; inseparable. To see you without Leon was a huge change for everyone, an unfortunate change that you and they will have to get used to.

With an exasperated sigh, you sit back into your chair and get working. Despite all the tension in the room, you’re thankful that this outburst managed to motivate everyone into doing something for once. With a stretch and a sip of coffee for some energy, you got right into reading reports and signing them for the next few hours until your day ended.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After a day that seemed to drag on forever, you finally got to come home and unwind. Before going home, you made a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up some junk and beer. Sitting in bed wearing one of Leon’s shirts, you reclined into the pillows and sighed deeply; there were still papers that needed reading and signing but they weren’t a huge load like earlier so you decided to let those wait. Feeling a little thirsty, you get up to grab a cold beer from the fridge before moving to find the can opener. The spoon drawer was near you but you didn’t want to bend your utensils even more so you decided to dedicate some time to look for it. After a few moments, you still couldn’t find it despite opening up every cabinet door and pulling on the cabinets. You remembered how Leon had a tendency to hide things on shelves only he could reach so maybe he decided to hide it on top of the cabinets. Moving your beer elsewhere, you get on the kitchen counter and make sure you’re balanced, one hand holding on to a cabinet door and the other feeling around for the tops. Your hands are slightly sweaty, worried that you’ll take a misstep and fall down but you push through anyways; you’re determined to have that drink. After a few minutes of feeling around, you still don’t find it but you feel something smooth albeit a little dusty. Interested, you pull the smooth something back to you and see an envelope; the envelope doesn’t have any exterior markings and is only sealed by a singular waterproof band aid but with a turn of the envelope you see your name written with Leon’s handwriting. Even more interested than you were, you forgo looking for the opener and drink altogether to opt for reading the letter instead. Besides, you miss your boyfriend with each passing day and today is Valentine’s Day so why not cut the pity party and indulge in some totally-not-heartbreaking reminiscing. Heading to your room and getting into bed, crawling to Leon’s side of the bed you take the letter and gently tear the band aid seal off. You open it up and take the paper out; the letter was written at the back of an old document, blue ink strokes creating texture at the back of the paper.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

04-29 To my pearl Y/N, You’re asleep right now after a pretty lengthy breakdown session (not the dancing kind, unfortunately) so I had to sneak out of bed and look around for whatever to write in. I seriously hope you don’t turn around and drag me back to bed, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now. Anyways, I find myself drawn into the depths of my emotions and unable to contain the overflow of adoration that fills every corner of my being whenever I’m with you– when you laugh, when you smile, when you cry. How do I begin to express the depths of my love for you? Will an entire lifetime be enough time to show you all that I’ve got for you? How can mere words encapsulate the boundless ocean of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you? I’m very grateful that you find solace within me, a sanctuary where you could lay bare your vulnerabilities without fear of judgment or rejection (and vice versa: me being vulnerable around you). When you speak my name, the universe pauses, holding its breath in honor of our bond. When we touch, I feel my spirit lifted to dizzying heights and surrounds me in this happiness that defies description. Your essence, your soul is like a beacon of light from a lighthouse in the darkest of my nights and the stormiest of my seas, calling me to the safety of the shore. You are the gem I consider myself lucky to have love and receive love from amidst the vast chaos of this universe. All those flowery words aside, I’m sorry that I kept something from you while you were having a rough time– I’ll be going on a 3 month-long mission to the other side of the world. I just didn’t want to tell you while you feel like the world is against you and I’m really sorry– I promise I’ll tell you really soon. I really don’t want to leave you but I have to, out of a deep-rooted desire to protect the world and to protect you. Three months will feel like forever but please hold on for me, okay? I’ll get you something from Build-A-Bear when I get back :) Though the nights will feel longer, please promise me that you’ll get some rest and live happily while I’m elsewhere (but still think of me too yaknow). If… If I don’t come home then celebrate every single holiday out there because it’ll make you happy. Do something with your life when I couldn’t with mine. Don’t sulk and wallow in self-pity coz I’d really hate to see that if I somehow get turned into a ghost :/ For the meantime that I’m not yet out for work, I’ll keep holding you close to my heart. Wherever I’ll end up, I’ll still be yours– always and forever. I love you :) Without Wax, Leon :) xoxo P.S. (I saw this at a random Almanac) “Sincerely” came from the Latin word “sin cera” which means “without wax”. Dishonest sculptors with imperfections in their sculptures filled in mistakes with wax and when something was flawless, they labeled it as “sin cera”, which is “without wax”. Basically, what I wanna say is that my love for you is real and genuine :) And also it sounds cool right? x

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. MIssing you so much right now,” you whispered as you traced Leon’s name with a finger.

You smiled to yourself, pressing a feather-light kiss to the closing portion of his letter. God you missed him dearly; what you’d give just to have him back. Folding the letter back and placing it back inside the envelope, you kept it near your heart for a bit before putting it on your bedside table. Walking over to your work desk you pulled out a neat sheet of paper and your favorite pen, getting ready to pen a letter that’ll respond to Leon’s though he’ll never get the chance to read it.

NOTE - I decided to write angst for Valentine's Day but I decided against making it super sad so... yeah. Also I attended a seminar yesterday since every single one of us were required to attend and it was... okay. Like it wasn't super fun but I did speak up a lot and a buncha girls went to me and hugged me ?????? Like that was actually really nice, I need more hugs ( -> touch-starved ). I finished writing this on the 8th and my grades release this Saturday so let's hope I don't die 🙏🙏🙏 Also, I read uhlunaro's fic called "Bone-Chill" and OH MY GOD ?????? IT WAS SO GOOD ???? LIKE THAT THING STUCK WITH ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY-- IT WAS THAT GOOD. GO READ IT GUYS CMONNNN!!!!!! Anyways, I know it's not the 14th anymore but I hope you had a great Valentine's Day and thank you so, so, so, much for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! <33333333

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

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aurumacadicus · 7 months

Note

May I please request Stevetony and 4 (Oh, can you feel this?) for the Featheruary prompts?

I went a different direction for this one lol

Tony waited until he saw silvery blue scales under the water before he hopped from his perch, using his wings for balance as he carefully edged down to the where the water lapped at the rocky shore below his nest. He knew Steve would scold him, because his people were known to take on each other’s colors to attract easy prey during seasons when the schools of fish they hunted were lean. Tony couldn’t even accuse him of lying, because someone had once tried to come up using silver-blue scales in an attempt to eat him.

Tony had no idea how to explain to Steve that the color hadn’t been exactly right. When Steve had found a handful of blood-slick scales to compare them to his own, he’d pointed out how they’d shined the same way in the sun. But Tony had been able to see the blue wasn’t quite icy enough, that the silver didn’t penetrate deep enough, that the tiny, blush-red scales where his fins attached to his powerful tail hadn’t been the right shade under the silvery translucence of the fins as the other siren had attempted to dance for him. It just hadn’t been right. So Tony had obediently stayed up in his nest, feathers fluffing nervously until Steve’s right-colored scales sliced through the water at high speed, crashed into the other siren, and then blood had bloomed like scarlet flowers under the surface.

At least Steve had been able to eat, even if Tony had had to turn away, feathers flat in disgust.

Steve shot him a flat, unimpressed look as he broke the water, slicking his hair back out of his face. “Would there even be a point to me saying it again?”

“No,” Tony answered, hobbling over to him, carefully picking his way over the rocks. He wasn’t a rock bird. He liked flat land. But people were looking for him there. And he couldn’t be mad about rocks when he had Steve as a friend.

“I should leave,” Steve groused, crossing his arms over his chest. “You just won’t be happy until I find your feathers and blood on the ground.”

Tony tapped him with one taloned foot, prodding him to roll over onto his back. “It’s your fault for not scaring the other sirens off.”

“Is that what you do? Just scare others off and trust them not to come back?” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Tony blinked at him, brows furrowing together. “Yes.”

“…And that works,” Steve asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Tony answered, tilting his head at him. He didn’t know why sirens had to be so dumb. He respected when other birds were defending their territories. And most birds respected his back! Sure, there were scuffles sometimes as they tested boundaries, but it rarely ever extended to anything more than posturing. This was Steve’s beach. The other sirens should respect it.

“That explains so much about you,” Steve sighed, finally rolling onto his back so Tony could settle comfortably in his lap. “I need to keep moving to keep my lower gills wet.”

Tony considered the feathers on his legs, feet dangling on either side of the girth of Steve’s fish tail. He wasn’t a water bird. But then, he wasn’t a rock bird either. He was a lot of things he wasn’t for Steve. “You’ll protect me,” he decided. Steve was bigger than any others he’d seen of his kind, with a tail twice as long. He placed his taloned fingers over Steve’s stomach. “Just don’t go too far out. If I fall off, I’ll sink.”

“’course,” Steve scoffed, tail beginning to sway back and forth to propel him in long, slow circles. “I’ve seen you in the water. Inelegant little thing.”

Normally, Tony would bristle. He was not an inelegant little thing. He was a prized specimen of his kind. But he could admit that to Steve, he seemed that way. Even Steve’s human half was bigger than him, muscular and bulky, and when he was sitting on Steve like this, his tail seemed to extend for miles. And he was quite elegant in the water, after all, twisting his large body in ways it seemingly shouldn’t be able to simply because of his size.

Steve would probably look pretty inelegant trying to fly, he figured. And Steve always said it with such fondness, he thought it might be a way of expressing affection.

“Do your kind mate?” Tony asked. He’d always wondered. He’d only seen Steve kill and eat others of his kind. Never express romantic overtures.

Steve’s mouth spread into a lazy smile. “Once in a lifetime. It requires a lot of trust, you know, when your mate could turn around and eat you in your sleep.”

“Oh,” Tony said, unable to swallow down the disappointment rising in him. He scolded himself for it immediately. He was just lonely. Steve… obviously didn’t feel loneliness like he did. Steve wasn’t a flock animal, and Tony was. But that was his problem. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Tony didn’t understand things like that. His kind mated for life, but it seemed they weren’t so picky as sirens.

He probably wouldn’t ever meet Steve’s standards for mating. He was small, and weak, and wanted by humans. He was prey, technically, even if Steve had never acted on it.

Steve tipped his head from side to side to wet the gills on either side of his neck, keeping a careful eye on Tony with each move. “Is something wrong? Your tail’s dragging in the water.”

Tony forced a smile. “Oh, can you feel this? I must not be that small then, if I’m changing your direction.”

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering. Finally, he started again, apropos of nothing, “My mother said sirens and harpies share the same common ancestor.”

Tony frowned in confusion, glancing from his feathers down to Steve’s glimmering scales underneath him.

“Sirens used to be able to fly,” Steve continued, twisting to drift down with the current. “Harpies used to be able to stay underwater. Then humans started hunting them. They had to adapt. Overcome. Sirens dropped to the ocean floors to avoid them, and harpies took to the skies. That was ages ago, so long our oldest forefathers in the deepest depths are the only ones who remember it. I’ve only met one. My mother brought him food because he was too big and too old to hunt anymore. He had me shaking behind her fins, he was so scary. Do you know what he talked about as he was dying in her arms?”

“Being able to fly?” Tony guessed. He thought, if he could swim and couldn’t any longer, he’d miss the water sluicing through his feathers. Perhaps the siren had missed the air against his face.

“He missed his harpy mate,” Steve said gently, reaching out to cup Tony’s cheek carefully in his palm. “Humans had captured her, turned her into a songbird for their traveling shows, and he never saw her again.”

Tony sucked in a startled breath, turning his gaze away, even though it made something in him ache, pulling his face from Steve’s hand. “…Maybe it’s better that he didn’t,” he said.

Steve just looked at him for a moment, frowning. Tony wondered if he was remembering the first night Steve had found him, half-plucked from the stress of his escape and subsequent miles-long journey by foot. ‘Easy prey,’ Steve had called him, coming up out of the water, and Tony hadn’t had the strength to even be scared. He just remembered Steve taking in the full extent of his injuries before he’d hissed a poisonous, ‘Humans,’ and Tony had passed out face-first into the water.

Steve moved his hand so he was cupping Tony’s cheek again. “I’d rather see you one last time, under any circumstances, than see you one last time, hopeful and healthy, and then never again, knowing you were suffering all that time.” He smiled a little. “I don’t think you’d eat me while I slept, after all.”

Tony blinked at him, surprised. Finally, though, he let out a delighted little tweet and leaned in, pressing his lips to Steve’s crooked smile.

#aurumacadicus answers #iam93percentstardust #aurumacadicus writes #stony #featheruary

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blazerratbluefire-blog · 10 months

Text

This fiction is based on #alicedusstuff art piece of tiny Macaque being held in Wukong's hand. This is my fanfiction, so there are most likely errors. So enjoy!! And make sure to check out the art that alicedusstuff creates!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Macaque struggled to get out of Wukong's hand. But as much as he wiggled around, twisted and even bit his hand, Wukong wouldn't let go. It didn't help that Macaque was the size of a doll that could easily fit into Wukong's hand either. Soon Macaque was panting out of breath from his struggles. He silently groaned in his throat in frustration, he shouldn't have tried to make himself smaller to avoid Wukong's mad dash at him with the power he took from MK. The kid's magic was still unstable and young.

Macaque's tail flicked in unease and his glamored ears pinned back when he felt an unwavering gaze aimed at his body. He nervously glanced up and swallowed. Wukong's eyes were shadowed with an unfamiliar emotion behind them as his gaze didn't move from him.

"H-hey, bud! U-um, think you could let me go, Wukong?" Macaque asked nervously. He felt sweat gathering on his forehead the longer Wukong didn't answer him. If possible, Wukong's gaze became even more intense. Macaque shivered even though he was held in a very warm hand. He licked his lips nervously and gave a weak chuckle while gripping the hand that held him tighter.

"You wouldn't hurt me in front of the kid, would you?"

Macaque noticed that Wukong's tail was lashing side to side as his eyes began to gain a slight red hue to them. As Wukong brought him closer to his face, he began to panic and restarted his struggles more.

"Monkey King! I need help!" Cried out MK, currently stuck to the wall of rock by the staff.

Wukong cleared his eyes and pivot towards his student with a bright chirp of encouragement, while at the same time tucking Macaque behind his back still clutched in his hand.

"You can do it bud!" Monkey King encouraged with a bright smile.

MK stopped his struggles against the staff and gave Monkey King a deadpan stare.

"No I can't. Macaque stole my powers!"

"Well, I believe in you bud! You can get out of that yourself! Think of it as extra credit for two-timing me with another mentor."

MK chuckled nervously at that reminder. He was honestly hoping that Monkey King would have forgotten about that.

"But don't worry, I won't leave you alone." Monkey plucked a strand of fur out and blew on it. A golden glow soon surround the piece of fur and a clone came into existence. "This guy here will keep you company and safe from anything that might try to eat you."

"Eat me?!" Cried MK.

"See you in a bit bud!" Saluted Monkey King and he hopped onto his cloud and zipped away with his prize in his hand.

Macaque gave a chrip of surprise at the intense speeds as Wukong flew away on his cloud. The wind whipped through his fur and he pinned his ears back to avoid the harsh wind blowing against them.He dug his claws into Wukong's hand to make himself feel more grounded.

"Wukong! Slow down! Where are you taking me?!" Cried out Macaque.

Wukong didn't answer him, but he did tighten his hold over Macaque's body and pressed him closer to his chest.

After a while they arrived at their destination. Macaque started to make out the sounds of Flower Fruit Mountain and opened his eyes to look around. As Wukong slowed to a stop in front of his hut, he jumped off and made his way to the door of his hut. He walked through his door and closed it, then made his way to the kitchen table.

Macaque meanwhile was struggling as much as possible to get free of Wukong's hand. Macaque's back soon made impact with the surface of the table with his hands and feet pinned down with Wukong's hand.

Wukong hovered over Macaque's body with that same look as earlier. His tail was also once again lashing side to side.

"Drop them." Wukong demanded.

"Drop what?!" Macaque exclaimed, taken back from the vague demand.

"Your glamors. Drop them. Or I will remove them myself." Wukong again demanded with a darker look on his face.

"No!" Cried out Macaque, his own tail had begun to curl around his own leg nervously. He honestly had no idea how Wukong thought he was going to remove his glamors, but HE wasn't going to drop them himself.

"Fine, but I warned you Macaque." Wukong told him. He then leaned down closer to Macaque's body, once he was right over his head, he turned Macaque's head to the side and lightly brushed his fangs over his neck and shoulder.

Macaque was letting out distressed chirps when he felt Wukong's fangs on his neck and shoulder. In the middle of his chirp he let out a gasp and did a whole body shudder as he felt Wukong lick up the side of his head right over his ears!

"....DID YOU JUST FUCKING LICK ME?!" Macaque yelled out to Wukong, his entire face red and tail lashing side to side.

Wukong just smirked down at him, pleased that Macaque was so ruffled and blushing.

"Yup! And if you don't want me to lick. Every. Single. Inch. Of your body, you'll drop your glamors." Wukong continued to smirk, waiting to see what Macaque's reply would be.

"You...W-what? B-but, i-i.....F-fine! I'll drop them! J-just stop slobbering on me!" Macaque stuttered out, fur puffed out, his tail lashing and curling while trying to mentally get his footing back. He took a deep breath and released his magic, letting his six ears on display and the scar going over his right blind eye being shown.

Wukong cooed in delight once the glamors dropped. Bring his free hand to Macaque's ears and gently petting the ears in just the right way to make Macaque go limp against the table.

"There's my pretty Moonlight. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." Cooed Wukong, while keeping up the petting to make sure that Macaque stayed docile. "Now, where did I put that bottle?"

Fin

#alicedusstuff #Macaque #sun wukong #first fanfiction #first post

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sweetprfct · 5 months

Note

Can I request a fluffy Joseph Quinn x fem! reader long oneshot where reader wakes up and hears laughter and finds Joseph in their daughters room playing with her and as reader watches them she reflects on how she met Joseph when she took her niece to a Comic Con to meet him and it was love at first sight?

The Alchemy

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seeing Joe with your daughter, you couldn't help but look back on the first time you met him. That one normal day you dreaded so much that turned into something so beautiful and important, almost like a golden daylight you never knew before.

Author's Note: I barely write any fics that involves with kids, so this is a rare one for me. Somehow, I enjoyed it! :) Comments are always welcome!

Wordcount: 5.3K

Letting out a deep breath, you smiled at the work that you just finished. Organizing the living room and the kitchen every day was getting harder, but you weren’t complaining. It was the trails that your toddler would leave behind. Her stuffed animals, puzzles, books and Barbie dolls. After putting them all back in the bin, you finally sighed in relief, ready to just crawl under the bed covers and be in Joe’s arms.

However, laughter and giggles echoed down the hall and caught your attention. Looking at the time, you realized that it was late. Well, late for your daughter to be up at this hour. Walking down the hall and into her bedroom, you found Joe, still in his work clothes, on the floor playing with Rosie.

“Hi! I’m Miss Bunny!” Joe used his baby talk, letting the stuffed bunny hop in front of Rosie.

“Bunny!” Rosie’s fingers were on her mouth as she used her other hand to point at the stuffed bunny.

“Miss Bunny thinks it’s time for bedtime!” Joe let the stuffed bunny dance towards Rosie, who giggled happily.

You leaned against the doorframe and smiled, watching Rosie laugh as Joe tackled her with the bunny kisses. He then reeled her in his lap and attacked her with kisses all over her face. Rosie’s brunette curls were all disheveled the moment Joe pulled away. He laughed softly, stroking his daughter’s hair as she wrapped her tiny arms around Joe’s neck. She laid her head on his shoulder and yawned softly, while Joe caressed her back.

“My little Rosie.” He murmured, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead.

“Daddy… love.” Rosie said, yawning again.

“I love you too, darling.”

Joe started humming softly as he rocked Rosie in his arms. As you watched them, you couldn’t help but remember how you and Joe first met. If someone would have told you back then that this was going to be your future, you probably would have laughed so hard at how ridiculous it would sound. It was something you never knew that could happen in your life.

Ever.

It started one Friday afternoon when your sister came knocking on your door. You sighed as soon as you saw her car outside the window. You love your sister. You really did, but you were tired of babysitting her daughter every time she needed to go do something. You had your own life too, and you were stressed out at work already.

“What is it?” You asked as soon as you opened the door.

Camille gave you a shy smile as your eyes shifted towards your niece, Zoe, who was sitting at the passenger seat of Camille’s car. The window was down, and she was occupied with her phone. Your niece was 13 years old and somehow, your sister always wanted you to watch her.

“No, Camille.” You shook your head before she could say anything. “I’m not babysitting tonight. I had a long day at work. I don’t have the energy to deal with kids right now.”

“No, no.” Camille shook her head. “I’m not here to ask you to babysit. It’s just that… this weekend…”

You raised your brow at her, leaning your body against the door frame and your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“What about this weekend?” You asked.

“You see, there’s this comic con convention in the city, and Zoe has been begging me to take her because her favorite celebrity is going to be in it, but I can’t go this weekend because I have this project at work.” Camille let out a deep sigh. “I was wondering if you could take her, please?”

“No—No!” You repeatedly shook your head. “A comic con? No way! That’s way too crowded for me and you know I hate that! Besides, I’m not a fan of those things.”

“You don’t have to be a fan to go,” Camille explained. “Can you please just take her? She has been asking for this. She has been wanting to meet this guy. She really likes him.”

“It’s a guy?!” Your eyes widened. “What does she know about liking a guy? She’s like five.”

“She’s 13, honey.” Your sister tilted her head at you. “He’s a celebrity named Joe… something. I don’t know, he’s from this show called Stranger Things.”

“Stranger what?” You furrowed your brows and shook your head again. “No, no. What am I gonna do there?”

“Just please accompany her? I’ll pay for everything. Your gas, both of your food and even your admission ticket.”

You sighed, shifting your eyes at Zoe, who was now looking at the both of you. She had pleading eyes, and you knew she was silently begging you to say yes to accompany her.

“Do I have to stand in line to meet this man?” You asked, shifting your eyes back to Camille.

“I don’t think so.” She shrugged. “I guess it depends on their age rules, but you literally just have to accompany her. You don’t have to interact with anyone.”

You rubbed your forehead and scrunched your face as you agreed. Your sister should be glad that you love your niece or else, you would have said no to this, and she wouldn’t be able to convince you at all.

Camille smiled, pulling you into a hug and said, “Thank you!”

You pointed your index finger at her, raising your brow and said, “You’re paying for all of this. I’m not spending a single dime.”

Camille nodded her head and said, “Oh and… um… can you please not smoke in front of Zoe?”

You were taken aback by her little comment as you gasped softly. “You smoke in your household, Camille!”

“No, I haven’t!” She argued. “I haven’t smoked in years.”

You sighed, shaking your head in disbelief. Why was she acting like she was all innocent?

Camille took a step forward, touching you by the forearm. Her eyes were practically begging as she said, “I know you smoke when you’re stressed, and I know the crowd stresses you out. It’s just that Zoe is growing older, and I don’t want her to be picking up those kinds of habits.”

You scoffed, “Speak for yourself.”

“I know.” Camille admitted. “She doesn’t need to be like me before.”

You rolled your eyes and nodded at her as she gave you another thankful smile before walking away. As your sister slid herself back into the driver’s seat, you saw Zoe smiled at you and looked down at her phone. In just a second, your phone vibrated in your pocket and saw Zoe texting you a thank you as the car pulled away from your driveway.

Entering back into your place, you flopped yourself on the sofa and sighed. You didn’t understand how your sister could have a daughter and could barely be there for her. This was why you told yourself that you could never have kids. There was too much time and needs that you needed to sacrifice just so you could take care of them.

Shaking your head, you googled the show Stranger Things just to at least know what this was all about. You scrolled through the list of cast and saw two men that have the same name as Joe. One with long thick straight hair and one with curly long hair. You wondered which one Zoe was so fond of. Not really caring about it, you exited google and spent the rest of the night cuddled with your blanket on your sofa, watching your shows.

However, when Saturday came, you were dreading to get up. It was way too early and why were comic cons started at 10am? It was a Saturday! Who wanted to get up that early for it? For what? For an autograph and a picture?

On the way to your sister’s house, you grabbed yourself a cup of coffee and when you arrived, you found Zoe already waiting for you on the front porch. She looked excited and nervous at the same time. She had a backpack with her, and you furrowed your brows as you studied the outfit that she was wearing.

When did your sister approve of this sort of outfit?

In your opinion, you didn’t think it was bad. However, in your sister’s eyes? You knew she had an argument with Zoe this morning when she saw that t-shirt she was wearing.

“Hellfire Club?” You tugged on Zoe’s shirt lightly as soon as she slid herself on the passenger seat.

“So, your mom was okay with you having a picture of the devil on your shirt?” You raised your brow at her, making Zoe roll her eyes.

“She doesn’t know it.” Zoe shrugged. “It’s from the show. It’s not really the devil, Auntie.”

You chuckled softly, “So, this is not like a cult thing?”

Zoe sighed and said, “No, it’s not! Auntie, I thought you’re the cool Aunt. I thought you would be cool about this?”

“I am cool about this!” You argued, tugging on her shirt lightly again. “Let me see.”

Zoe turned her body to face you as she looked down at her shirt and gave you a proud smile. You chuckled softly, poking her stomach softly.

“I actually think you look pretty cool.” You smiled before finally driving out of the driveway.

Zoe smiled as she scrolled through her phone. For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you entered the freeway and made your way to the city. You looked over to Zoe and saw that she was scrolling through the website of the comic con.

“So, who’s this Joe guy, anyway?” You asked, interrupting the silence.

You saw the grin on Zoe’s face widened as she focused her eyes on the phone of her screen. Not a minute later, she held up her phone with a picture of a guy. He was wearing the same Hellfire Club shirt, long curly hair and had tattoos.

“That’s him?” You laughed. “With the perm and everything?”

“That’s just his character. He’s wearing a wig.” Zoe slumped on her seat, sighing.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. You continued to focus your eyes on the road as the skyline of the city slowly appeared in front of you. Zoe looked out the window for a moment, and you couldn’t help but glance at her. You saw the frustration in her eyes as you bit your lower lip. You didn’t mean to upset her over a picture, and you could tell she was going through something else.

“Hey,” You reached your hand over, patting her lap. “I’m sorry. You know I’m just teasing you.”

Zoe turned to you and nodded her head. “It’s just that… he already gets so much hate online, you know? He’s such a sweet guy, and I wish people were nicer.”

You couldn’t help but smile and squeezed her hand lightly. “People just don’t have anything to do with their lives that’s why they’re being like that.”

“Yeah…” Zoe looked down at her lap. “Mom just doesn’t understand it either.”

“Well, you know how your mom is.” You rolled your eyes. “She’s too stiff and strict. She got that from your grandma.”

Zoe let out a sigh, setting her chin on the palm of her hand as she looked out the window.

“Oh, c’mon. Cheer up. You’re going to meet him soon.” You gave her a reassuring smile.

Zoe gave you a nervous smile, nodding her head. She took your hand in hers and squeezed it lightly. As Zoe grew older, she was more comfortable sharing things with you than Camille. It wasn’t like you didn’t scold her about certain things. Camille was just too strict, and she never tried to understand that Zoe was growing up, and she was in a phase where she was experimenting different things to learn more about herself.

Arriving at the convention center, you walked in with Zoe and immediately saw a crowd of people already. It took about 15 minutes just entering the building, which you didn’t understand because you both were here before it even opened. Your eyes studied the room, looking at the people dressed up in different characters. You wonder how long it took them to dress up like that. They all looked really cool.

“Oh, over there!” Zoe tugged on your arm, pointing towards the corner at the back.

Your eyes immediately saw the big banner that had a picture of Joe’s character with his name plastered next to it. Grabbing you by the wrist, Zoe dragged you quickly towards it, stumbling and bumping through the crowd.

“Okay, slow down, Zoe.” You said.

“I can’t. The photo op is supposed to be at 11.” Zoe explained. “It’s already almost 10:30. I wanna be in line already.”

You took a deep breath and your eyes widened immediately as soon as you both arrived at the booth. The line was already long, and you followed Zoe all the way to the back and sighed. The crowd was making you anxious, and Zoe being in a panic and nervous mode wasn’t helping you either.

“How long is this going to take?” You asked.

Zoe shrugged. “It starts at 11. Maybe an hour or so?”

Your eyes widened. “Okay, how about this… I’ll be right back.”

Zoe tilted her head at you, a brow raised. You swore whenever she gave you that look, she looked exactly like your sister.

“You’re already stressed? Are you gonna go out for a smoke?”

“No.” You immediately answered as you made a face. “I’m… just gonna look at stuff… outside. The city skyline looks nice.”

Zoe kept her brow raised, knowing the fact that you were lying in front of her face.

“Mhm…”

“Just stay here and if you ever move, just text me where you are.” You pointed your index finger at her. “Don’t go anywhere far. I swear to god, Zoe. Your mother is going to kill me.”

Zoe rolled her eyes as you walked away. Walking through the crowds, you found two sliding doors that walked out to the balcony. The skyline of the city was right in front of it, and you couldn’t help but admire it as you took out a cigarette from your purse and lit it up. You exhaled a sharp breath, puffing out the smoke when another person joined you.

Glancing to your side, you watched as he fumbled through his coat pockets. The cigarette was tucked between his lips, and he looked like he was looking for his lighter.

“Great.” He murmured under his breath, taking the cigarette that was between his lips and exhaled a sharp breath.

Taking your lighter from your pocket, you took a few steps towards him and handed it to him. As he gazed up at you, his chocolate button eyes immediately caught yours. A small gasp was caught in your throat as you stared at him for a moment. As he slipped the lighter from your hands, you felt his touch on your fingers and suddenly, you felt something sparked inside of you.

Almost like the chemicals in your brain have changed.

“Thank you.” He gave you a shy smile before lighting his cigarette.

You nodded your head, giving him a faint smile as he gave you back your lighter. You noticed the English accent that slipped through his voice and wondered if he was just visiting town.

A comfortable silence surrounded the both of you for a moment before he interrupted and said, “Overwhelmed?”

You chuckled softly. “I don’t like the crowds.”

He nodded his head and blew a puff of smoke into the air and continued, “Me too. Gives me anxiety.”

You gave him a soft smile and looked towards the view of the skyline in front of the both of you. Then, you glanced over to him again.

“Y…You work for the convention?” You asked.

“Um…” He laughed softly, scratching the back of his head. “I guess you could say that.”

“I don’t know how you do it. Working and dealing with all those crowds?” You shook your head. “It’s why I choose to work in an office.”

The man chuckled softly, putting his cigarette out and said, “I guess so but after saying hi and taking pictures with them, it’s sort of worth it.”

You furrowed your brows at the small comment that he just made. For a moment, you were confused as to what he was talking about. You looked over your shoulder and through the glass windows and saw the banner that was literally underneath Zoe before slowly looking back at the man in front of you. You felt your cheeks flushed when you realized who it was. Putting out your cigarette, you let out a small laugh and shook your head.

“What?” He asked.

“My niece…” You laughed, turning to face him. “She would kill me right now if she knew who I was talking to.”

He gave you a wide smile, “I’m guessing you don’t watch Stranger Things?”

“I actually didn’t find out about it until just yesterday.” Your cheeks flushed again.

You didn’t know why you were feeling embarrassed. There was literally nothing to be embarrassed about. You just didn’t watch the show nor knew him at all. That was all. It wasn’t a crime or anything.

“I’m just accompanying my niece because my sister can’t seem to show up for her daughter lately.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know why she would have a child if she can’t even take care of her. It was like she just doesn’t even care. I mean… Zoe is literally growing up so fast, and she doesn’t even realize that—”

You glanced at him and saw an amused smile that was tugging on his lips. You bit your lower lip and looked away for a moment.

“And… I’m ranting to you. I’m so sorry.” You laughed softly, playing with the lighter in your hands.

“It’s okay.” He grinned widely. “I totally understand. One of my mates back in London is sort of the same. He tends to leave his kids to his sister, and I honestly feel like he doesn't care at all.”

“Yeah…” You looked down at your fingers.

“But I think it’s cool that you accompanied your niece to meet me.” Joe gave you a warm smile that suddenly made your stomach turn. “Not many people would do that, especially for a convention like this.”

You pursed your lips, giving him a small smile as you kicked the metal railing softly with your foot. Your head hung low, and you could feel your heartbeat race faster. Why was it all of a sudden, you were feeling a little shy?

“I’m Joe, by the way.”

He held out his hand and right before you could shake his hand, your flustered self dropped the lighter on the floor. You let out a nervous laugh as Joe picked it up on the ground and handed it to you. You introduced yourself as you took the lighter from his hand, feeling his touch against your skin again. Once again, you felt the electricity sparked inside of you, and you couldn’t explain what it was.

“Nice to meet you.” Joe smiled.

“Yo…You too.”

“I should get back. I have fans waiting for me.” Joe made his way towards the double doors.

“Of course.”

As he walked away, you turned your back towards the double doors and slapped your palm on your forehead, feeling so stupid and embarrassed. You didn’t even know why. You were never nervous when it came to talking to men, so why were you all flustered towards Joe? Was it because he was a celebrity or was it because you didn’t even recognize him, and you had the audacity to rant about your personal life to some stranger?

Shaking your head, you made your way back inside the convention center and waited for Zoe to finish off her photo ops with Joe. You sat in the corner and watched everyone around the center for a moment, before you occupied yourself with some work on your phone.

“Auntie!” Zoe called out, running towards you. “Look! Look!”

She squealed, handing you two printed pictures of her and Joe. You smiled and stared at the picture. One of the pictures was Joe hugging her tightly and the other one was them doing peace signs, and his tongue was sticking out in a goofy and dorky way.

“Was he nice?” You asked.

“Yes, he was so sweet! He said that he liked my shirt, and he called me darling.”

You laughed, taking the pictures from her. “Here let me hold this for you, while you prepare to go get his autograph.”

“Okay.” Zoe fixed her heavy backpack, but you were quick to grab her gently by her straps.

“Zoe, you’re struggling with that. Let me hold this for you.” You said, sliding her backpack off her shoulders.

As you set the backpack on the table in front of you, you helped fix Zoe’s shirt and just in time, Joe had walked by. Your eyes caught his as he gave you a warm smile when he passed by. Zoe was literally bouncing off her feet, while you were trying to fix her shirt but it was no use, she wouldn’t stay still.

“Zoe, sweetheart. Calm down.” You said, squeezing her arm softly.

“I’m gonna go!” Zoe said, walking away from you.

“Okay, text me–” You sighed and rubbed your forehead.

The rest of the day was slow. After Zoe had received her autograph from Joe, she had dragged you into his panel, and you sat there the whole time, watching him. His expressions and how he interacted with his fans. He was sweet to all of them and you were lucky enough to be sitting in the front row. Your sister truly had spent a lot of money for Zoe to get that VIP seat. You couldn’t help but wonder every time Joe glanced towards you, if he was thinking about that embarrassing conversation that you two had earlier.

“You know, he’s only two years older than you.” Zoe had told you later that night.

Since you had a long exhausting day running around with Zoe, you decided to abuse your sister’s credit card and took you and Zoe to a nice restaurant. That stress level from the crowd and making sure Zoe didn’t run off got you craving for steak. Something that you knew your sister was going to shake her head and roll her eyes. You couldn’t help but grin at the thought of it. Camille always had teased you all her life so when you had grown older, you kept giving her a payback every chance you got.

“So?” You raised your brow.

“So? I saw him looking at you during his panel.” Zoe shrugged, playing with the mashed potatoes in front of her. “Why did he keep glancing at you?”

“Who knows.” You took a sip of your wine and continued eating.

“Maybe he found you pretty or something.”

You barked out a laugh, shaking your head. “Zoe, stop spending so much time on the internet. It’s rotting your brain.”

“What? It could happen.” She shrugged and ate the mashed potatoes.

“Zoe, he’s an actor.” You made sure that she understood it.

“Yeah, but–”

“Excuse me.” The server came by your table, smiling at you. “This was ordered for you.”

She sets a bottle of wine in front of you along with a slice of tiramisu cake in front of Zoe. You straightened yourself on your chair, wondering who the server was talking about. Following the server’s gaze behind her, you saw Joe sitting across the room. He was with another man, who looked like his friend or something. The man sitting next to him was literally grinning ear from ear as he nudged Joe on the arm.

“Ohmygod.” Zoe gasped.

Your eyes widened as you saw Zoe’s expression turned into a panic mode. You felt your heartbeat race again when you saw Joe get up from his chair and walked towards your table. Zoe grabbed you by the wrist, and you swore for a 13 year old, she could snap your wrist in half from the way she was gripping it.

“Zoe.” You gave her a look and a warning voice to calm down and behave herself.

“Hi.” Joe smiled at you. “We meet again.”

“Again?!” Zoe exclaimed, shifting her attention to you.

You squeezed her hand softly under the table to calm herself down as you smiled at Joe. “Are you stalking me?” You joked.

“Are you sure you’re not stalking me?” Joe retorted back.

“Well, I was here first before you, wasn’t I?”

Joe was silent for a moment before shrugging and nodding his head in agreement. A small laugh escaped from him before his eyes turned to Zoe.

“Hi.” He grinned at her. “Nice to meet you again.”

“You too.” Zoe smiled excitedly. “I’m such a big fan.”

“Thank you.” Joe nodded before turning to you again. “May I?”

You nodded your head as he pulled up a chair next to you. You wonder if you were dreaming. You wonder if this was real, and you certainly wonder how the hell Zoe was just talking about this and now, it was happening? Was this some sort of prank? Were you on camera right now? Glancing towards your niece, she focused her attention on her food, but she was practically giddy on her seat.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know?” You said, pointing at the wine and the tiramisu cake.

“Actually, it’s a little thank you.” Joe cleared his throat. “Ever since our conversation earlier, I couldn’t help but think about how I never had a conversation like that in a long time. You know, something real and genuine?”

You nodded your head towards the man that was sitting on their table. “He doesn’t give you genuine conversations?”

Joe looked over his shoulder and laughed softly. “He’s my manager. Most of our conversations involve work.”

“Ah,” You nodded your head in understanding. “Well, I’m glad I was able to give you that.”

“Well, I was hoping that maybe we could continue more conversations like that.”

You bit your lower lip as soon as you felt Zoe kicked you on the leg under the table. You clench your jaw from the pain that you felt. You swore Zoe was going to get an earful from you later on. As you continued your conversation with Joe, he had given you his number at the end of the night, and Zoe was practically excited and giddy when you both returned in the car.

“You’re literally the coolest Aunt.” Zoe had told you later that night when you had dropped her off home. “Thank you for coming with me today. It really means a lot.”

You smiled as you helped her slip her backpack on. “You know I’m always here for you, Zoe. I know I get busy at times but if there’s any problem or anything you need, I’m a text away, alright?”

Zoe smiled, wrapping her arms around your waist and embraced you. It was that night when you realized that the reason why you were always so irritated with Camille for bringing Zoe for you to babysit was because you cared too much about her. You didn’t want Zoe to have a distant relationship with her mom because she was always busy with work. You wanted Zoe to have a safe and healthy relationship with her family because she deserved so much love and happiness in this world.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were there.” Joe’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Rosie was fast asleep in his arms as you smiled and walked towards them. Joe was still sitting on the floor, his hand gently caressing Rosie’s back. She had her head against his shoulder, face pressed on his neck.

“What are you thinking?” Joe whispered.

“You…” You smiled, rubbing Rosie’s back softly. “Zoe.. and Rosie.”

Joe smiled slightly, thinking about Zoe. He couldn’t believe she was almost graduating high school now. When he first met her, she was this energetic 13 year old. Now, she was almost a grown adult and more energetic and smarter than ever.

“Her graduation is coming up pretty quickly.” Joe said.

“Yeah, she’s Valedictorian of her class. I’m so proud of her.”

Joe got up from the floor and walked over to Rosie’s bed and set her down gently. He covered her with her blanket, tucking her in comfortably before setting the stuffed bunny next to her. Turning to face you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving you a soft kiss on the lips.

“If it wasn’t for Zoe, we wouldn’t be here right now.” Joe murmured.

You let out a soft hum, wrapping your arms around his neck. “That’s true… We wouldn’t have Rosie either.”

Unwrapping his arms from you, Joe looked over his shoulder and stared at Rosie, who was fast asleep. He knelt down next to her bed, softly brushing her brunette curls away from her face before placing a soft kiss on her hair.

“I don’t know where I would be without the both of you.” Joe smiled.

Kneeling down next to him, you placed a soft kiss on Rosie’s forehead. When you were pregnant with Rosie, you and Joe had promised each other that no matter how busy life gets, you both will always put her first no matter what.

“I love you both so much.” You whispered.

“Mama?” You gazed down at Rosie, who fluttered her eyes open.

She reached her arms towards you as you smiled and picked her up in your arms.

“Get some rest, sweetheart.” You rocked her softly, while Joe rubbed her back.

As you set her back down on her bed, you felt Rosie’s arms tightened around your neck. You chuckled softly at Joe as he shook his head.

“In bed with us it is then.” Joe stated.

Walking out of Rosie’s room, Joe followed behind you, turning the lights off and went to freshen up as you settled Rosie on the bed between the both of you. You tucked her in the bed before you went to change into your pajamas. Not moments later, Joe’s arms wrapped around your waist, hugging you from behind.

“That day…” Joe kissed your cheek softly, turning you around to face him. “When you started talking about Camille, and I saw you all flustered, I knew that I wanted to get to know more about that girl that I met on the balcony.”

You chuckled softly, running your hands down his chest. “It was the first time I ever felt something like that to anyone. It was like the chemicals in my brain twisted and turned into something I never knew before.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly on the lips. Joe pressed your body against his as he kissed you deeper and hungrily.

“It was like suddenly, everything was golden. Like I saw colors I never knew before.” You said once you pulled away from the kiss.

“You and Rosie are my life.” Joe murmured. “You both are everything to me.”

He softly caressed your cheek with his thumb before taking your hand and took you to the bedroom. As you settled on your sides of the bed, Joe wrapped an arm around Rosie, giving her a kiss on her forehead again before moving over and giving you a quick kiss. With both of them like this in your bed, you couldn't help but thanked your little stars for bringing Joe into your life, and you certainly thanked your little stars for letting your sister dragged you to that comic con with Zoe.

Who knew that one day that you dreaded so much turned into something so important?

Who knew that was going to be the beginning of your life forever?

The End.

***********

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf @ladamari68 @1paire2vans @d4rk4ng3l86 @paleidiot @josephquinnsfreckles @readergf

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn fanfics #Joe Quinn fanfics #Joseph Quinn fics #Joe Quinn fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #The Alchemy #one shot #sweetprfct

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rebouks · 1 year

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Previous // Next

Kaito Yoshida skips breakfast almost every day, opting instead for a swim in the Wakaba River to wake him up. It’s cool and quiet as the sun rises; a peaceful alternative to a poorly made cup of coffee.

After an early lunch, Kaito takes some time to dabble in the stock market. A job though he has, it’s mundane and pays little, meant more to keep him occupied than anything else; no, this is how he earns his living. Money makes money after all.

The lunchtime rush at Ai Mizu is predictably hectic, particularly in summer. Famous for its fresh sushi, the tiny restaurant regularly attracts tourists and locals alike, having done so for over fifty years.

He and his co-workers are cordial with one another, but Kaito has no interest in making friends. A precise and introverted woman, the head chef of Ai Mizu apparently appreciates this demeanour; even going so far as to share her personal unagi sauce recipe with him on the sly.

Although it bores him, he often tries to meditate, a favourite spot of his being beside the old canal near Ai Mizu. The local felines, of which there are too many if you ask him, usually have other ideas though, proving themselves to be rather distracting.

He’s convinced some of them are actively trying to kill him, conveniently placing themselves between his legs as he walks, or surreptitiously hopping out of nowhere right before a set of stairs. None have been successful in his demise as of yet, and Kaito has learned he ought to watch his step whilst in town.

Though Kaito’s face was as recognisable as any other resident in Wakaba’s town centre by now, people were still intrigued by the local who spoke Komorebian with ease, despite being foreign-.. judging by his accent rather than his features at least. Never impolite enough to ask questions however, Kaito was left in peace, which suited him more than they’d ever know.

Loneliness was not a foreign concept to Kaito, who had lived with its familiar dull ache throughout most of his life. Try as he might, his attempts at filling that void had never been particularly fruitful; that was, until he found adrenaline. A band aid of sorts, but fulfilling nonetheless.

Kaito escaped to the slopes whenever he could, becoming rather fond of snowboarding especially; not that it was so easy in the beginning, mind you. But, practice makes perfect and over time, Kaito found himself quite at home with the cool wind in his face and the fresh, powdery snow gliding beneath his board.

Rock-climbing however, wasn’t quite so easy to master. Kaito still found himself struggling with various rockfaces now and then. And though he took his late father’s advice with a grain of salt these days, he held steadfast to one piece in particular. Persistence was paramount.

Never one to think of himself as tenacious or prosperous, he was almost proud of how far he’d come; prouder still of the fact that he no longer felt the need to wave his moderate success in the face of those who cared so little for him in the past. He was alone there as he is here. A solitary existence perhaps, but for the first time in his life, Wyatt felt as though he belonged somewhere. He was finally home.

#ts4 #sims 4 #simblr #ts4 story #sims story #forever in between #fib #wyatt shaw #ahem.. kaito yoshida #⚆_⚆#hiiiiiiiii wyatt.. this is where you've been hiding!#sdkjskdj #this is the 'new' thing i was talking abt procrastinating over lol #cos like.. i knew how i wanted it to look but had no idea how to go abt it #i usually don't edit stuff this much but it was fun!!#i like how it turned out #and i've been itching to show u what our beloved villain had been up to #but he's been a good boi recently #still.. idk if we can take that title away from him after everything 🙈

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chaosduckies · 8 days

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The Hunted Marble (1)

Sooo change of plans on the posting of the prompts. I was getting a little burnt out on writing some of them, which ended with me writing this! (I'm sorry for everyone who has been waiting for so long-) But I was getting burnt out and wanted to write something that would stop me from getting writers block, which became this Naga fic!

Thank you to @da3dm for helping me write, create the title, and letting me borrow one of your characters!

Word Count: 4.3k

CW: fear, anxiety, blood (not much)

1-Kayden

The forest was home to many animals. Rabbits, deer, bears. Everything you would ever need to survive if you really thought about it hard enough. Rivers that twisted and turned, trees that stretched far up into the sky. A natural beauty that threatens to kill me.

To me? It was a death trap. No matter how unafraid I was of the dangers of the woods, there was always that tiny bit of fear I could never seem to be rid of.

Alone in the woods with nothing but a pocket knife and a few measly arrows to fuel my bow, I made my trek through the thick foliage, stepping over loose sticks and stones that lined my path.

I was never one to enjoy hunting, in fact, I never even wanted to be out here in the first place. But here I was, proving myself to be a man and make my parents proud. Even if they would never think that for a second of their lives.

For once in my life I was grateful for the survival skills that I had been taught. Without them I would never have even made it past the first few feet away from home. But I was taught well, and kept moving along. Just as long as I could catch something I’d never have to do this ever again.

I stayed still for a while, listening to my surroundings and noting the oncoming storm clouds, which meant that I would have to find shelter at some point. I sat by a bush, trying to hide my presence from any animals that happened to be nearby.

I held my breath when I noticed a small rabbit emerge from the small shrub only a few feet away from my hiding spot. I raised the bow eye-level with me, eyeing the easy mark. The rabbit slowly hopped over the grass, sniffing it and not noticing me. Perfect. I aimed, ready to hit and claim my prize. Exhaling as I released the arrow from the bow, and completely missing the rabbit.

Groaning silently to myself out of anger, I chased it down, running as fast as my legs would carry me. There was no way I was going to let them escape. I wanted to go back home, lock myself in my room and never have to think about this again. I felt bad for the animals we hunt for food, but we do what we need to do to survive.

The rabbit was far ahead, but still visible as thunder roared in the air, the light raindrops falling on me. I kept going, not concerned about the storm brewing in the skies above. Trees cut and bruised my skin, making me wince but never once made me falter. I only needed something small. Nothing big that I couldn’t handle, and a rabbit would make me feel less bad about myself. I mean, I was killing an innocent animal that definitely didn’t deserve what was coming for them,

I followed, trying not to mind the many bruises that were already forming along my skin. My chest felt heavy as I gasped for air, eyes still trained on the target ahead. The rain started pouring harder, making it nearly impossible to follow the trail of the rabbit. What would I do if I didn’t catch it and inevitably was lost to the storm? It would be difficult to find my way back, now that I think about it.

It was one foot in front of the other, planting safely on the ground until there wasn’t one anymore. I let out a yelp as my body hit the sharp and rough rocks lined against the steep decline of the trees and grass. I groaned, picking my head up and noticing my vision wasblurry, either from the rain or from the fall I didn’t know. I tried lifting my aching body back up, struggling with balance. How was I supposed to know that there was a huge fall right there? I wouldn’t have even been here in the first place if it wasn’t for my dad.

Limping my way towards the nearest tree, I realized my ankle was now turning a disgusting purple and red color, bleeding a little bit. I took a moment to catch my breath, wet hair in my face and ignoring the brutal pain erupting from my injured ankle. The debate on whether to go back home empty handed and disgrace my family, or to stay here and very likely die. Neither of which were great options.

The rain wasn’t going to let up anytimesoon, and I still needed to find some sort of shelter. I didn’t want to be sick when I arrived back home. If I could even make it home.

I placed pressure on my twisted ankle, biting down so hard on my cheek that I tasted blood. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, painfully attempting to walk straight. Of course something like this had to happen. How did I not see it coming? The odds were stacked against me here. It’s raining, my ankle was twisted at an odd angle and hurt to even slightly place pressure onto it, could this get any worse?

My weary eyes searched through the rain and trees, not seeing any shelter that would keep me dry from the rain. I applied pressure to my messed up ankle, flinching from the pain but forcing myself to keep walking in search of someplace dry. Either some place with a thick canopy, a cave, or by some miracle, a hut. So far, there had been no signs of light as far as I could see. The sky grew darker, signaling that night was upon me. Alright, so it could get worse. That’s just great.

I picked up the pace, biting down harder on my jaw with every excruciating step. The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet, but that was the least of my worries. I just needed to get to safety before I get mangled by some wild animal. The ground was muddy and made it harder to move, but there was no way that I was going to stop anytime soon. My clothes were drenched, my hair glued to my eyes, and the cut on my ankle was burning from stinging raindrops.

After a while, the ground started to decline once again, and learning from my past mistakes, I made sure to slowly slide down. From the bottom, you could see a river steadily start to overfill that flowed through a wide ravine. Around me you could see small mountains surrounding the area. If it weren’t raining then maybe this area would be a nice place of sanctuary. Sadly, that was only wishful dreaming. I may not even make it back home alive.

I studied the terrain further, noticing a huge cave entrance. I gawked at the size before limping inside. The pitch black darkness not only set me on my nerves, but also gave the indication that there may be a family of bears living here. But there was a slim possibility of that. I think.

I headed deeper into the cave, clutching my bow close to my body as I struggled to traverse

over the rough terrain. I walked until my eyes could no longer adjust to the darkness, which was only a little ways from the mouth of the cave. I took one more step to make sure nothing was lurking, and instead hit a solid surface. Really? For a big entrance this cave didn’t go very deep. The wall in front of me was warm and felt a little… off, but that could just be my imagination. Maybe that’s what limestone felt like? I’d have no idea since I haven’t seen it for myself.

I leaned against the limestone wall (Or maybe it was marble?) and held my ankle close, staring as the storm raged outside. I was still drenched from head to toe, my hair slowly drying off, but otherwise it was nice and warm here for some odd reason. There was a small draft that came in increments, but otherwise safe and dry. So far no bears, which was a plus.

As I was just about to fall asleep to the sound of rain, I heard something moving from behind me. My eyes widened, moving back to see the wall move, recognizing in the little remaining light that it was entirely white and scaly. I scampered backwards, trying to avoid being crushed by the huge white wall that was currently unraveling. My chest rose up and down, watching as the white scales slowly dwindled down. Something moved in the darkness and I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was big.

Everything stopped moving, the white scaly wall, my own breathing, the small draft that was there moments before. I waited for something. Anything. Just to explain whatever the heck was happening. Walls don’t just move. I mean, it’s just common sense. It was strange how the cave did just abruptly stop… almost like something was blocking the way.

What I initially thought was a wall at first was now moving around on the floor snake-like, disappearing into the dark. There was still a large part of it I could see, trailing my head up and up until I could no longer see anymore white. It was obvious it was connected to something that was huge and moving. My breathing became more frantic, afraid that it wasn’t a bear that I should’ve been worried about. Something bigger? Scarier? I gripped my bow tightly in my trembling hands. I wasn’t as scared. I was taught how to handle situations like these. Just stay as calm as possible. What would they think of me if I ran away? I needed to come back home with something. Maybe it could be whatever was hiding itself. But if it really was as big as I think it is… No. If my dad wanted me to prove myself then I can’t run away from this.

I stood up, my legs shaky but otherwise were able to carry my weight. I grabbed an arrow from the case strapped on my back and waited for any recognition of a head for body. I bit my lower lip out of nervousness. What would happen if I couldn’t kill this thing? I would die and then they’d probably send for someone to come looking for me, but I would most likely already be dead or eaten. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought.

There was a low rumbling noise that reverberated against the cave walls. I sucked in a deep breath, getting ready to draw my bow. Something above me yawned, I shot my head straight up, pointing my bow towards the sound, hearing everything around me move. Something was placed down on the side of me. I studied it, seeing that it looked more like a hand than anything else. Just really, really big. If I were to guess I’d maybe be the size of its thumb. I swallowed, nerves settling in. Who was I kidding? It’d be better for me to run away and at least have a chance of surviving than attempt to kill this humongous being and become its snack.

I felt something move closer to me, instantly making me take a few steps back and instinctively point my bow towards whatever was in front of me. My heart was racing, but my breathing remained calm. Everything will be fine, totally fine. What could go wrong? Panic swirled in my mind as I readied myself to face off against this monster.

The rain outside wasn’t letting up as lightning lit up the sky, bright flashes of white entering the cave and giving me a better look at what was in front of me. I now realized that the wall wasn’t a wall at all, but a white, scaly tail that was very slowly unraveling itself. I picked my head up slowly, lightning flashing again, revealing the body. Was it weird that…it looked like a human? My eyes widened, seeing colorful light blue eyes struggle to keep themselves open. There was no way I would be able to even lay a scratch on this thing. Whatever it was anyways. Tail, upper body like a person, I feel like I’ve heard about something like this before.

The blue eyes that lay in front of me looked around, pupils round and seemingly tired. I backed away slowly, afraid of catching its attention. Though it wouldn’t be able to see in the dark, would it? I hoped not. I carefully placed the arrow back in its casing, clutching my bow so tight my knuckles were turning white. I thought everything was going alright up until I tripped over a rock and fell back down with a loud thud!

I turned my head slowly towards the eyes, seeing its pupils become slim and sharp like a cats. I let out a yelp as I stood up as quickly as possible and rushed towards the large exit. Please please please. I can’t die here just please- my thoughts were interrupted by running something scaly and warm. Its tail. I attempted to turn around, but it was useless. I was stopped by being wrapped up in a prison of illuminating white scales, my arms trapped underneath the skin. I started panicking, terrified. What could I do in this situation? I was utterly trapped with no chance of escape, I couldn’t reach my bow because -wow- I dropped my only weapon on the ground. There was no way I was going to make it out alive.

I tried kicking myself free and trying to pull out my arms in a futile attempt, the tail only wrapping around me even more until I was trapped in a few of its coils. It seemed ever since I entered this stupid forest my heart has done nothing but threaten to burst right out of my chest. Absolutely nothing good has happened since I left home, and it hasn’t even been a day. Usually other boys were home by now having a meal out of the animal they had caught. Me? I was going to be the one that dies. Which, not uncommon, but for a prince it’d be a laughing embarrassment for my parents.

The ungodly being forced itself closer, letting me be able to get a better look at what I was dealing with. My eyes widened in fear, watching its face take up most of my vision. White hair, skin, those same light blue eyes that rang the bell of death. The word to describe this monster had finally clicked in my mind. Naga. What I thought was an ungodly creature was as close to a god as can be. Their eyes flickered down at me tiredly as it let out a yawn, revealing impossibly sharp canines. Was I about to really become its snack? No- I can’t let that happen.

I struggled to get free even more, successfully pulling one of my arms free and working on getting the other one free before the naga lowered its head to be eye-level with me. I paused, staring into their slitted pupils and watching as they dilated, showing that they weren’t hostile. I continued struggling, my shoulder and legs hurting from the amount of pressure I was placing on them. I needed to get out of here. At least if I go home empty handed I could just re-do this some other time. I might get punished but at least I would be alive.

“A h-human? Here?” The naga questioned, bringing a clawed hand closer to its face. It sounded more confused than malicious. Could be a trick. I managed to get my other arm free, now trying to regain function of my legs. I let out a loud groan, almost pulling myself free before I was just placed into another prison, which of course they would keep me pinched between their fingers. Was I really that… insignificant? As soon as I almost escape from one prison, I’m placed in another just as fast and easily. My breathing became ragged as I felt my stomach drop. I was raised higher, barely catching how they kept an open palm below me. No matter what I do it’d just catch me. I pictured them chasing me through the vast expanse of forest. Running for my life, legs tired, and just before I reach a point of safety, I’d just be trapped again.

I kicked and pushed away from the large digits, trying to get myself free. Of course I was scared! No man wouldn’t be! But I wasn’t scared enough that I would just give up. I was going to get out of this one way or another. Even if all the odds are currently stacked against me.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” The naga worriedly stated, adjusting his grip and setting me down on his palm. I clutched my chest, grabbing a fistfull of my shirt and trying to calm my breathing. I never realized just how much I was panicking. I wasn’t at all happy with where I was, but better than being squeezed like some childs toy.

The naga tilted its head, lowering me down, but not low enough for me to safely jump down without hurting my ankle. There was still a little bit of blood, but nothing I couldn’t handle.

“You’re hurt?” They squinted their eyes, trying to get a better look at my ankle. I pulled my legs closer to my body, facing away. Could he sense my fear? The last thing I needed was for this monster to know I was hurt. It would only make the toying better for it.

“D-do you mind if I see?” They asked nervously. What?... If I were being honest I was extremely confused. Weren’t nagas supposed to be these secluded beings? They hated anything that came into their territory?

“Yes.” I answered a little too rudely. I winced to myself, already knowing I messed up. Great. I just spoke like that to an almost-god. I just love how this day is going.

I waited for any kind of punishment, thinking it would be the death of me anyways, but nothing once again. I didn’t get it. Was this some kind of sick trick? Was I being baited into something? Even if I’ve never, ever met or seen a naga before shouldn’t they be more… mean? Full of malice?

The naga didn’t respond, letting out a sigh before smiling. Had I not been more focused on the fangs, it would’ve been nice.

“Can you hurry up and eat me already? Stop teasing me.” The last part came out like I was about to cry, and I was going to if I hadn’t wiped away the tears first.

The naga stared at me wide-eyed, as if taken aback from my outburst. I wasn’t going to show that I was terrified. I was brave. I didn’t undergo all of that brutal training just to be a coward at the very end. Heck, I love going outside, exploring the many new fruit trees or even the flowers that sprout during the spring. I loved staying by the river and playing in the water. I may have always been alone but at least I was able to have just a little bit of fun. So why couldn’t I be brave like all those other times I was exploring on my own?

“No! Nonono- I-I wasn’t-” The naga stuttered, unable to get words together. Everything right now was so confusing. I didn’t get it. There was a naga who seemed more scared than I was, the rain had been going on for forever and didn’t seem to want to let up anytime soon.

“What? You’ve already trapped me here. I’m pretty much helpless too.” I sighed, bringing my hands up to my face and leaning back. Truth was, I was hiding the tears. I’m not some soldier who can stare death in the face and not waver in any way. The whole brave act seemed to be working in my favor though. Maybe I can work with this.

“I-I wasn’t going to hurt you-”

I cut him off, “Yeah and look where I am now. Held against my will.”

The naga was at a loss for words.I mean, what was he supposed to say to that? Unless he really was putting on an entire act and lunged at me right now I should be able to get out… perfect plan.

They bit the side of their cheek, lowering their hands down and cautiously letting me jump off. I winced as my feet hit the ground, my ankle throbbing under the pressure, but otherwise I could stand upright. I let out a sigh of relief. Finally on the ground again.

“Is that better?” They lowered themselves towards the ground, using their arms as a pillow. I hated how he was watching me but… I smiled to myself anyways, making a run for it and hoping that nothing would-

I slammed into something just like before, their tail still in the way. I fell backwards, grumbling and quickly stood back up. Seriously? I groaned, attempting to climb over instead of running around since there was no way I could make it all the way around. Of course it had to be a giant snake person. Of course. I tried to find a grip on the scales, only sliding down every time. Should’ve gone to those stupid climbing training lessons. Maybe then I’d be out of here.

After the naga not making a single move to stop me at all, and me becoming tired of falling everytime I managed to get even the least bit of progress, I gave up. I sat up against the tail, arms crossed and legs close to my chest. I wasn’t going home. The real question was why I wasn’t even allowed to go. Because I would tell everyone? Who would believe me? Nagas were an old fairytale parents told to their children to get them to behave.

I buried my head in defeat. As much as I loathed my parents, I still wanted to go home, wrap myself under warm covers, get some dry clothes, and forget that this ever happened. Instead I’m cold, hurt, tired, my clothes were barely drying off, and currently trapped with a being that’s supposed to only be in fairytales. Life is great. Everything is… great.

“Are you happy now?” I glared up at the naga, throwing my hands up in the air and leaning further back. The naga stared at me, their eyes full of sympathy I never even wanted.

“It’s raining.” They pointed outside like I was oblivious to the fact.

I gestured towards myself, clothes still drenched and hair stuck to my face, “Yeah, I guessed so.”

“And you don’t want to stay dry?” They asked, making a point. I looked away, a little annoyed at the fact that this naga was completely right. It was warm and dry here. I doubt any predators, other than the naga itself, would come here. Maybe that’s why I couldn’t find any animals here.

“Well, I would like to go home.”

The naga sighed sadly, almost like he wanted me to stay. Yeah so I could be its snack. Not entirely wrong. I think. So far it’s just been a confusing mess. At first I thought I’d be dead immediately, then the naga was friendly, and now I have no idea what to think. A plus is that I’m not dead yet.

“H-how about you just stay here? Just until the rain stops at least.” They had offered. Tempting, but I’m not dumb enough to fall for that trick.

“And end up as your next meal? Yeah I don’t think so.” I stood up, studying my surroundings for another possible way out and ignoring the naga behind me. So what if he just kills me right now? I doubt he would based on his actions so far, but I wasn’t trying to stick around for longer than necessary.

“No- um, I’m being honest. Just until the rain stops, and I won’t do anything to you.” He seemed a little stumped at the whole snack part, but otherwise sounded genuine. I mean, did they really have a reason to lie to me? Unless they were some sick psycho who took pleasure in watching all the trust I have left in me die then I should be good. To be honest, staying here didn’t seem all too bad either. Besides the giant snake of course.

I contemplated the pros and the cons. I’d have a place to be warm and somewhat safe, but there’d also be a big possibility of the naga not wanting me here anymore. Especially after I was so mean. I just had to hope it wasn’t dwelling on that.

“Fine. But I don’t want you picking me up like some toy.” I agreed. Sitting and getting myself comfy on the hard rock. I was beyond tired. My muscles ached, I felt disgusting, and obviously I was still wet. Of course I’d be exhausted. I yawned, laying down and facing the roof of the cave that seemed impossible for me to reach.

“I didn’t catch your name?” The naga asked. I heard him moving, but never once touched or came near me. Maybe he wasn’t lying?

I sighed, “Usually when someone asks for a name they give their own first.”

“O-oh! Um, Vasuki, and you?”

“Kayden.”

Nothing was said after, but my body was tired and my eyes were threatening to close at any second.

“Nice to meet you.” I could almost hear the smile on Vasuki’s face. I rolled my eyes, finally settling in and finding a decent spot to sleep. To be honest I didn’t care that a literal giant was probably looming over me and could possibly kill me while I was sleeping, but everything would be fine, right? I didn’t have time to think, my eyes gave up on staying awake any longer and fell asleep.

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I will definitely be making this into a series! Just cause I had a lot of fun writing and it's gotten me out of a writers block. Also because I don't like it when everyone associates nagas with vore, it can be without it too! (Just my personal thing, nothing is wrong with it I just prefer nagas without vore)

Thank you for reading! And thank you again to 3D for letting me borrow their character Vasuki! :D

Taglist: @da3dm (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

#g/t #g/t writing #g/t community #sfw g/t #giant/tiny #oc: Kayden #Vasuki belongs to Da3dm #idk why but a naga fic just seemed right #plus I love nagas #but I hope you guys loved this just as much as I did writing it #and tbh this was for myself just to prevent from writers block #cause burn out would not fun TwT #but I'm making a series out of this #cause I can and brainrot mmm #but let me know if you really do want a second part #it'd mean a lot if people also liked reading this!#love you guys ❤️

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