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urhoneycombwitch · 2 months ago

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hold me like water

foreword: followup to my unofficial eddie x shy!reader series. not necessary to read in order but here’s one and two if u want. this takes place after the events of s4 but everyone (including the trailer sorry i’m too attached) is mostly fine and so is the town. except for all that pesky PTSD… lol. written epilogue-style but I just wanted to give them something soft… not done w them yet!!

cw: PTSD, nightmares, trauma bonding, medical stuff, scarring/wounds, light smut post-traumatic event, R has breasts+a vagina, R wears a bikini

wc: 3k

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For the first month, you don’t leave the trailer.

More specifically, you don’t leave Eddie.

While he’s recovering from the attacks, you confine yourself to his room; Wayne had pulled in a comfy armchair for you when he realized you’d been sleeping on Eddie’s floor for three nights in a row, just to be closer to him than the guest bed down the hall.

Now, with the chair, you’re actually getting some sleep at night- enough to tend to Eddie’s wounds every morning and evening without yawning comically loud.

After the first few weeks of healing, while Eddie is still tender but learning to walk shakily with the use of a cane, you still stick to the boundaries of the trailer. Neither of you really want to go anywhere, anyways: Hop’s instructions to keep a low profile while the dust settles on the murder investigation have to be taken seriously.

Plus, Eddie and you are very well taken care of by your friends-turned-family. Anything you could ever want for shows up on your doorstep and kitchen counters by a rotating crew of familiar faces; Mrs. Byers brings groceries and finds excuses to stay longer, busying herself by making tea, doing the dishes; Mrs. Wheeler brings casseroles and her son, who steals Eddie away for intense D&D discussions (Eddie made Mike interim DM, and the power’s really gone to his head).

The trailer is almost always filled during the day, bikes in a heap on the front strip of grass, Beemer parked at an angle to avoid a popped tire. Steve picks up Eddie’s medication every Friday, brings it over along with a bunch of VHS’s and Robin. Sometimes Jonathan and Argyle join in on movie nights, too, and Nancy when she’s not busy with work.

It’s easy and peaceful, spending time with people who understand and share the same traumas. People who don’t stare at the bandages or Eddie’s cane or ask why you won’t leave the trailer any more.

The government officials from the now-defunct Hawkin’s lab call every few days, wall-mounted landline ringing like a toll bell at 3pm sharp. You tell them the same thing, every time, curt and firm- if they want to interrogate you and Eddie, they’ll damn well have to come here. Or drag you, kicking and screaming.

Steve asks about it one afternoon, naive and confused with the force of your phone slamming- “Y’know, they probably just want you to sign one of those Don’t-Talk-About-This papers and give you a bunch of money. I heard they’re setting up college funds for all the kids-”

“Good for them.” Your dry remark cuts in smoothly from the couch, hand on Eddie’s knee as a lifeline. In a voice wobbly with anger, eyes glittering with unshed tears, your chin tilts up, defiant- “It’s the least they can do. I want them to look me in the eyes when they try to grovel for my silence. For Eddie’s. After all they fucking did to us, to the town-”

Eddie’s hand slips over yours, squeezes. Steve raises his hands in a placating gesture, surrendering with haste, then retreats to the kitchen for movie night snacks.

“Never heard you so bossy before,” Eddie murmurs, at the shell of your ear. Goosebumps cascade across your neck when he rests his heavy palm there, cold rings warming to the temperature of your skin. “Goin’ to bat for me. It’s hot.”

You’re a couple of steps removed from the quiet, shy thing Eddie’s known for years. Seeing the love of your life almost bleed out in an alternate dimension will do that to a person.

Owens shows up at the trailer one morning, at the end of summer after all the phone calls provide no results. Him and two of his muscliest-looking lab guys are met by you in the threshold of the door, arms crossed and somehow looking fierce despite the fuzzy blue bathrobe you’re swathed in.

“The goons stay outside.” Your word is final. Even the doctor knows it.

The two men in coats settle on either side of the porch, while Owens is allowed to sit at the kitchen table indoors, accepting a mug of coffee Eddie generously supplies (you certainly aren’t in a hospitable mood, glaring daggers at him from the opposing chair).

Predictably, the doctor explains he’s here with some NDA’s for both you and Eddie to sign, the shiny promise of a government-allotted chunk of change waiting on the other side.

Hidden from view under the table, your fingertips skate over Eddie’s palm, lying open and pliant for you. Calmly, like you’re stating the weather, you tell Owens to double his offer.

By the time he’s done using your phone, Owens is wiping sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. Once the papers are signed, him and the lab goons load back into the shiny black car like silent sentries.

They leave, and Eddie laughs, a full, rich noise that makes your heart ache. His fist slams the table in excess of humor, mugs jumping with a clink. “Goddamn. You just made the richest guy in Hawkins run off with his tail between his legs.”

“Pretty sure Harrington Senior has him beat,” you mutter around the rim of your coffee, unable to repress the satisfied smirk that tugs at your lips.

The payoff is a sickening amount, more money than you or Eddie have ever seen- enough to send you both to college, twice, with a hefty nest egg for the future leftover. You put the bulk of yours in a savings account, just so you don’t get dizzy looking at the numbers.

Eddie does the same, with the exception of a down payment on the vacant trailer at the end of the park. Along with the new place, Wayne gets a fresh mattress, a couch that doesn’t have holes, and a proper, working stereo to play all his “old man country” tapes (in Eddie’s words). The quiet and deep thankfulness Wayne gives you both makes you feel like you’d do it all over again, like the fight was all worth it for the Laz-E-Boy in the corner and the new mug collection shelf.

Eddie floats the idea of college again, now that you’ve got the funds to make it possible. You’ve certainly got the time, too- neither of you have any need to work long shifts at the diner or garage anymore.

Unfortunately, this makes it all the more easy to form reclusive habits. By autumn, the solidness of your refusal to leave the trailer has less to do with helping Eddie than it does with your own fear of what lies beyond the comfort of your home.

Most days, you work on healing. Eddie’s still your lifeline, gentle encouragement turning stern when you need it the most- he talks you into visiting Max by yourself, a veritable feat; the short walk between the two trailers feels like death, your knock shaky with nerves. It feels horrifying, to walk the thin line of being both braver and more scared than you’ve ever been.

You stay for an hour. The next day, for two- Max has a new kitten that passes the time easily, the girl giggling behind her new thick-rimmed glasses while pulling string across the floor for the tiny thing to pounce on. One night, you bring dinner for both the Mayfields and stay well past supper; it’s nearly 11 by the time you return to Eddie��s open arms, triumphant in your success with a tupperware of Mrs. Mayfield’s cookies to boot.

Your bravery builds in increments. Eddie cleans the rust from his van that’s been sitting untouched since spring, and takes you on drives that go a bit farther each time. The Byers’ place for lunch, Dustin’s to pick up an extra radio, then all the way to north Hawkins for more of Mrs. Wheeler’s plastic-wrapped dishes she asks you to relieve her of.

When winter rolls around, Steve takes advantage of his now-permanently empty home to throw a holiday party. It’s loud with chatter and overwhelming with noise but it feels so good to be surrounded by it, by everyone, Eddie’s hand a steady comfort on your waist or lower back as you eat and drink and make merry with your friends.

Hop pulls it off, a Christmas miracle- all the murders get pinned on Jason, buried six feet under with parents who skipped town ages ago. You’re out for groceries one cold morning and realize that not a single shopper has even given Eddie a second glance, conspicuous as he is in black leather and flashy silver jewelry.

The strings loosen with a sigh, fluttering in release, allowing some space for you both to breathe.

Sex has been… different, lately. There’s been lots of readjusting, both physically and mentally- accounting for unforeseen muscle spasms, bone-deep bruises hidden beneath rippled skin, tissue and scarring pulled taut, testing the limits of new pains.

The first time, just a few weeks after the attacks, Eddie had begged to go down on you. He wanted the comfort of your thighs, your taste and scent, all-consuming, to think about anything else other than his wounds.

You’d been more than hesitant, terrified of hurting him, of letting your focus shift inwards. More in your head than ever, it took Eddie over an hour to coax an orgasm from the walls that’d been built back up around your pleasure; even with his lithe tongue and long, seeking fingers, it took forever and an age to get you anywhere close to the edge.

Eddie didn’t complain once- in fact, he kind of got off on the amount of time you let him spend between your legs. The muscles in his right arm were trembling by the time you clamped down on his fingers, jaw burning but keeping the suction at your clit even while your hips rolled strong as a tidal wave against his face.

And before you could open your mouth to apologize, or say something equally silly, panting and wrung-out and heartbreakingly beautiful against the pillows, Eddie’s teeth flashed at the inside of your thigh.

You’d jolted, breathless and giggly, endorphins soaring as he’d tenderly crawled up the length of your body to slip his tongue between your lips, sharing the earthy tang of your release.

“One more,” he’d said, uninjured arm taking the bulk of his weight while he dipped down to mouth at your breast. “And this time, put your hands in my hair. I’m getting jealous of the sheets.”

As Eddie’s physical limitations lessen with time, your mental barriers ease, as well. There’s still some stilted moments of relearning, of working together in bodies that don’t always respond the way you want them to.

There are raw, stripped-open emotions that have you clawing at Eddie’s back, his nails leaving indents on the flesh of your hips. To keep pressure off the worst of his side wounds, you find new positions, usually some form of your thighs draped over his or the welcome weight of you in his lap.

He’s endlessly patient. The kind of patient that makes you want to run, far and fast, and he knows it; when your pleasure recedes, frustration in the form of tears and hands pressed to your face, Eddie’s there to soothe. To try a new angle, to slow down or speed up, offering a break or an extra pillow to keep you comfortable and feeling good.

If you were comforted by each other’s presence during the night before the Spring Break from hell, it’s tenfold now. Neither of you will sleep a wink if Eddie’s not wrapped around you like a koala, snoring gently, overheated and tacky with sweat by morning but neither willing to compromise the closeness.

Nightmares are easier to handle, too- you’re there to soothe the sweat-coated bangs from Eddie’s forehead when he wakes up whimpering in fear, coaxing his panic and adrenaline back down. He’s so fine-tuned to the rhythms of your body that even though your own nightmares rarely end in noise, Eddie often wakes anyways from the disturbance in your breaths.

Just as you do for him, sometimes all it takes to get you back to sleep is a tender voice, a stroke of the arm, a reassurance in the dark that he’s with you.

A year after it all happened, Eddie hears you singing in the shower.

If he wasn’t craning to hear the gentle splashing noises as confirmation of your presence, he would’ve missed it. Eddie leans with his good shoulder on the wood frame, door partially cracked to let the melody of your voice float through.

Stevie Nicks is crooning sweetly from the handheld radio on the bathroom counter, and you, just as sweet and twice as pretty singing along.

Eddie closes his eyes, puts a hand to his chest; through the fabric of his shirt he feels the raised, bumpy edges of scar tissue, but there’s something beyond it. Curling around his heart, making it ache- it feels like healing. Like getting better, at least well enough to sing.

He’s dumbstruck with it.

That summer, he takes you to Lover’s Lake.

It’s just the two of you, which makes it easy for Eddie to go shirtless; currently, he’s enjoying the way you’re watching him from the back of the van, bare feet swinging and paired with a killer black bikini that he begged you into.

He’s not so sure the scars that criss cross his front and sides are as “metal” as you claim they are, but he’s trying. He’d drag himself over hot coals just to get half a smile; going shirtless is nothing.

You reach for him, and he walks into the V of your legs willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, head pressed to the middle of his sternum. Eddie plants his hands on either side of your hips, drops his chin to fit you under it.

“Come swim with me.”

In response, you sigh- a longsuffering, worried sort of noise that leaves your lungs and enters his. He’s been trying to talk you into it for weeks- it’s a miracle he’s gotten you both this far, dressed and ready to take the plunge.

Eddie’s not really sure why this swim is so important to him. It might have something to do with the fissure at the bottom of the lake, all scabbed over and sewn back together; or maybe it’s the surface, skimmed by a light breeze and rippling gently, nothing of monsters or alternate dimensions leftover to disturb the placidity.

Eddie wants to prove that it’s safe, for you and for himself. That the nightmares and the sticky feelings and the tears, they all mean something, of course they do- but the only way to is through.

So he takes you by both hands and you only drag your feet a little until he’s walking backwards on the shore, water lapping up to his ankles, and you freeze. Heels digging into the wet earth, tense under Eddie’s grasp, eyes wide and darting around like something might come crashing through the treeline.

“Hey. Look at me.” In a voice that’s reserved for you and you alone, Eddie speaks softly, calmly, letting out all the tension of his pull to just hold, instead. “You’re safe. There’s nothing out here that’s gonna hurt us, okay? Steve went all the way back down to the bottom to make sure. No more gate. No nothin’. It’s just a lake.”

“Just a lake,” you repeat, like a mantra as you take another step. The water rolls over your feet; Eddie murmurs his encouragement while leading.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s just a lake. Our lake.”

The water rises, up the back of Eddie’s calves, swishing around your shins; the pebble-rock floor shifts with each step. You and Eddie used to spend long summer days here, swimming and picnicking and fucking in the back of the van, syrupy-slow and stretched with time.

“Our lake.” You’re shivering, teeth chattering, even though the air is hot and the water is just-cool.

Eddie rubs at your upper arms, allaying the goosebumps; waterline up to your waists, now. The rock you’re balanced on beneath the surface jolts, and you stumble forward into Eddie’s arms; in a smooth maneuver, he catches you while sinking into a crouch, pulling you both from the safety of the shallows.

Then, your kicking feet meet nothing but the vastness of the lake, nails biting into Eddie’s arms, fear rattling through your spine until Eddie- treading water while valiantly supporting you, too- tosses his black hair back and whoops.

The sound is loud, joyful, ricochets across the lake and bounces back from the other shore. He crows at the sun, startles a laugh out of you as he clings harder, kicking to keep you both afloat- “Holy SHIT! We’re swimming in Lover’s Lake!”

“Holy shit,” you agree, giddy and breathless, nerves turning over into disbelief, excitement. “We’re swimming in our lake.”

Eddie kisses you. It’s sloppy and he misses the middle of your mouth as you both try to keep the other from slipping under, teeth clashing, giggles escaping around the sides. He puts a hand dripping with lake water to your cheek, holding you in place, thumb pressing gentle just under your eye.

“I love you.”

“Love you.” Your reply is swift and just as eager, hand coming to rest at the puckered line of scarring at Eddie’s chest.

Somewhere at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, a twin crack, a Something that was never supposed to be but now just Is.

You feel extraordinarily grateful, awash with we made it, as you and Eddie swim out further, shores in the shape of a heart holding you both from all sides.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x shy!reader #shy!reader

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zesmoon · 17 days ago

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You catch him trying on your clothes.

Xavier, Sylus and Zayne

Contents: Fem!reader, fluff, humour, written in the perspective of a shorter reader, size differences mentioned

Xavier

He tries on some of your cute pyjama sets out of curiosity.

Poses Infront of the mirror, making kissy faces, acting all cutesy

when he sees your nightdress in the drawer, he giggles to himself, sliding into it.

He has a slimmer build, so your clothes fit quite well on him

And right at that moment that's when you walk in.

He panics, trying to take it off before you find him, hearing you calling his name throughout the house.

When you find him he looks like he is about to CRY.

"I'm sorry, y/n! I was curious!" He says in a whiney tone.

Poor boy feels SO humiliated, you can practically hear his soul being crushed.

You assure him that he looks adorable, and he looks at you with puppy dog eyes "You think so..?"

Since then, he just shamelessly wears your pyjamas - although he gets a bit embarrassed if you bring up the nightdress again.

Most likely out of the three to do this quite often..

Zayne

You catch him holding your bra up to his chest after you notice he's been in the bedroom for a while.

"What the fuck, Zayne?"

He doesn't seem embarrassed that you caught him, just shrugging and saying "I was measuring the difference in sizing of our chests."

This ends with you peer pressuring him to actually put it on fully

You can only do one of the links up, since you're much smaller than he is.

And here he is, squeezed into your bra while you take pictures, giggling away.

At one point he even starts jokingly posing, and you both end up laughing

He often leaves the house wearing your hoodies, he's never seen a reason why not.

Like Xavier, he does occasionally wear your pyjamas, if they fit him. He insists its because its comforting, and they smell like you.

He's tall, so there are some clothes he refuses to put on, like your dresses. Some of your shirts are practically crop tops on him since he has a tall build.

Sylus

Okay, first of all, this is Sylus after you've gotten VERY VERY close. I don't think the Sylus we meet at the start of his storyline would do this, but when y'all are dating he does anything to make his pookie smile :]

Is just straight up putting your bra on in the SAME ROOM AS YOU RIGHT INFRONT OF YOU. this man is SHAMELESS.

"What do you think?" shifting his eyebrows at you

He isn't phased in the slightly that you've seen him doing this.

If you complain, he just argues back "So you're allowed to wear my clothes, but the same doesn't apply to me?"

He can't actually fit the bra around him, since his chest is so big.

"I should get one of these.."

You ask him to put on a dress? done. He just looks smug as you giggle away at the sight

Of course, he's a very muscular man, so this always ends up with your dresses being damaged or ripping, But he doesn't hesitate to tell you to buy yourself a new one.

He would put on your panties...... and LOOK BETTER THAN YOU DO IN THEM.....

However, unlike the others, he doesn't wear your clothes out or your pyjamas, mainly because they don't fit well enough, and obviously for his pride, he is a man with a damn good fashion sense Afterall.

Mostly just wears your stuff as a joke to make you laugh.

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some-triangles · 2 months ago

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I've been on tumblr since 2011, and this is technically a sideblog. My creative focus shifted over here, to - I guess what could loosely be referred to as fandom space? It was Homestuck's fault - many years ago, and I more or less consciously decided to shift the original blog's purpose from writing little bits of poetry about weird birds to finding bird videos on other platforms that I thought could go viral and reposting (stealing) them. (Always credited, of course. I'm not a monster.) This worked pretty well, and now I have 6000+ followers over there. Since I never use it to promote anything or for any purpose beyond birdposting I feel OK about this as an experiment. I mostly use it to people-watch.

The latest video I have gaining traction over there is one my friend Rat sent me (one of many friends who either found me through birds or Homestuck and each is equally plausible) in which a pelican at a petting zoo is forced to cough up the gosling it was attempting to swallow by a handler who has clearly had to deal with this many times before. She then frogmarches (birdmarches?) it away by its beak. Good stuff, and very on brand, as I've been warning people about the horrors of pelican vore for ages. (I even got my very own pervert for a while, an anon who kept badgering various bird blogs to write about what it might be like to be swallowed.) When something I post starts doing numbers I like to watch the notes and tags, because it fascinates me how people like to make the same jokes, over and over and over. Not even their own jokes. I have never fully understood this but it's undeniably foundational to the way the internet works. Like, I get dropping References in conversation - social glue and all that, fun and funny - but in a public forum? Where you could literally check and see how many people have said the same thing before you got to it? Baffling. Universal.

Anyway. We started slow with this one, and we had some discerning folks doing Democracy Manifest bits - succulent avian meal, and all that. As references go it's a pretty good one, as it has its own wikipedia page and everything, and it's timely with Jack Karlson's recent passing. There were a few I am Forcibly Escorted From tags, which is nice, since you don't hear that one much these days. A bunch of quotidian "she's so done" or "like a toddler being dragged by his ear" observations, mostly uninspiring, although the specificity of one person's "my mom dragging me into the church bathroom to whoop my ass" was worth sharing. A little bit of the classic concern trolling you get with any animal video - why indeed is this bird being kept in the same place as all these edible little guys? But, inevitably, because it is the perfect time to use it, most people went with "put baby in pelican mouth."

And the thing about this is that I know the person who wrote the original "put baby in pelican mouth" post. We met through tumblr. She was absolutely inspired by my pelican posting to write that piece, and I know that because we ended up dating. It ended badly, and I still have regrets about it, and now, every time I make a pelican post, I am treated to a choir of strangers - literally hundreds of them - repeating a joke which was written by my ex-girlfriend. It's straight from the ironic punishment division, really. But birdpost I must, and tagwatch I must.

Anyway, Nikki, if you're out there, hope you're doing well.

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zoeykallus · 11 months ago

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Hello! 👋

I LOVE your work and the way you capture the personalities of the characters. You're incredibly talented.

I'd like to request an 18+ one shot with Crosshair (fem reader) that's a little different than normal...

Cross is always very cold, rough, and distant, so I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if he started being gentle with the reader. But still in a Crosshair kinda way.

Here's what I was thinking (TW, i briefly mention the reader having past sexual/relationship traumas): The reader and Crosshair have worked together on and off for years. They never really talk about personal things or get emotional because they're both kinda similar. But they have feelings for each other that are on a deeper level than they've experienced before with others. Something happens where they end up being alone and emotionally vulnerable in front of one another (perhaps Cross saves the reader from something and gets all protective and has to calm the reader down from panicking and it gets steamy 😳🤤) and it basically ends in getting laid. But perhaps the reader is afraid of romance and intimacy from past experiences that Crosshair knows a bit about, and he truly loves her so instead of being quick and rough with her, he starts really slow, gentle, and sensual and it gradually gets more intense 🤭.

Take your time and prioritize your mental health!!

And I know that this could potentially encompass some heavy topics, so don't feel obligated to write this! 🫶❤️

Aloha!

🤔 Okay, I needed a while to read through all this and I did it repeatedly because for some reason nothing of it stuck in my head. That's what sleep deprivation does with you, no focus at all.

Now, I don't think Crosshair is always very cold, rough and distant. First of all, he's mostly playing it. I think it's mostly part of a self-defence act. 'Stay professional and don't let anyone get too close.' That stoic pure soldier behavior is kinda like a shield I think. Well, at least in my HC. Anyway, I know what you meant, so never mind 😅

Let's see if I can do this...

Crosshair x Fem!Reader One-Shot - The Unexpected Gentleness

Warnings: Angst/Tension/Protective Crosshair/ Soft Grumpman Crosshair/Suggestive/Described Sexual Intercourse/Spicy Handsy Stuff/ Implied Past Trauma Of Reader/Soft Smut(?)/18+

AC: A hundred years late, I'm finally done with this request. This may, or may not be, the longest One-Shot I've written so far... I don't know anymore by now, it certanly feels like it. I definitely wrote too much stuff to remember 😅 Didn't proofread this yet, because I'm close to keeling over any minute, sorry.

You never thought you would end up in this situation. Crosshair and you have been separated from the rest of the group by a storm. Since you were supposed to explore a cave system anyway, and you are protected from the storm inside, you continue to explore and scan the tunnel system. However, you are not the only ones seeking refuge from the storm in the caves. The group of black market smugglers you are looking for are also there. It all happens very quickly, from one moment to the next you are attacked. Blaster shots fly through the tunnel system and echo off the cave walls. Your flashlights only partially illuminate the cave, many dark corners where the enemy could be, remain lightless, and so two of the men are able to sneak up behind you. Someone jumps into your back and rams you hard to the ground, at first you can't breathe, you feel a knee in your back, your attacker holds you on the ground while he takes off everything you could have used as a weapon.

The impact was hard and painful, you gasp for air in panic as it almost feels as if the oxygen will never return to your lungs. The helpless position you find yourself in stirs up panic in your mind. There it is again, air, frantically you breathe in and out far too quickly. Your eyes are burning, fine stone dust and tears. You can't move, you can't defend yourself, you can't breathe properly, you can't even find your voice to scream. Then you hear a thudding sound, a startled gasp and in the same second the weight is gone from your back. You roll around, crawl to the cave wall and crouch down. You nervously scan the surroundings with your flashlight. Crosshair. He is standing over a man, presumably the one who was kneeling on your back earlier. The man on the ground is no longer moving, Crosshair is standing over him with his blaster. The Sniper looks in your direction, shielding his eyes with his hand against the beam of your flashlight. "Stop blinding me," he growls. "Sorry," you stammer, lowering the flashlight beam. You tremble as Crosshair crouches down in front of you and takes a closer look at you. "Breathe evenly, slowly, in and out. You're hyperventilating."

You blink several times, then force yourself to breathe in and out slowly, feeling your pulse finally calm down. "That's it," Crosshair grumbles, "Keep breathing," and helps you to your feet. He shakes his head and growls to himself, "That's what you get for having to take untrained staff with you"

For a second you want to say something defiant, but you see the look on his face and swollow it down. Usually you can handle his sass and grumble, but you are still shaken from what happened.

You bow your head in shame and silently follow him further along the tunnel system to a junction that looks like a small room. Slightly elevated from the rest of the tunnel, a slightly larger alcove. "We'll camp here for now," says Crosshair, and takes off some of his equipment, including his backpack and its contents. You do the same, and you pile up your blankets so that you can sit and lie reasonably softly. He also sets up a camping light, so you can see each other. Crosshair steps to the edge of the alcove, away from the blankets, and silently, impatiently beckons you towards him. You hastily follow his invitation, still with your head bowed. You hear him sigh, then you feel his hand under your chin. He forces you to look at him and scrutinizes your eyes. "You need to rinse your out your eyes, or they'll get infected. They're already red. You have stone dust in your eyes" He hands you his water bottle, which you take with a shaky hand. But when he sees the trembling in your fingers, he takes the bottle from you again.

"Head to the side and open your eyes," he demands curtly. You comply with this request too. You squint as he begins to clean your eyes. "Pull yourself together," he says quietly, almost gently. After a while, he hands you a clean handkerchief with which you dry your face, then he asks, "How are things looking, do you still feel foreign particles in your eyes?" You blink to test, then shake your head. "No, it's all gone." Crosshair nods and hums, "Good" He sits down on the blankets he spread on the floor earlier and beckons you over. "Sit down" You comply and sit down next to him. When he takes off your jacket, you flinch and stiffen. Crosshair pauses and looks at you questioningly, then says calmly, "I want to see if you've been hurt, bruised or anything, things you might not have noticed under adrenaline" You take off your jacket yourself and say, "My chest hurts a bit, but I don't think anything is broken" He carefully touches you over your T-shirt and applies pressure to your ribs. "Does that hurt?" You shake your head. "No, it's more of a constant, slight pain. It'll just be a few bruises" "Can I have a look?"

You blink uncertainly. You actually trust him, but you're still hesitant. "What's wrong?" he asks with a raised eyebrow. You swallow and say quietly, "I had more than my fair share of unpleasant experiences in the past with letting my guard down with people, physically" He growls softly then says, "You can be sure that won't happen to you with me. I don't cross boundaries I'm not supposed to, you're in control. A simple word is enough." Crosshair sounds unusually gentle, and at first you can only look at him in surprise. But he doesn't push you any further, waiting patiently. Finally, you nod and take a deep breath. You take your shirt off over your head and sit next to him in your bra. He wants to stare, to take a close look at you, but he concentrates decently on your rib area. His fingertips glide carefully over one spot. The touch gives you goose bumps. "Here," he says calmly, "A slightly larger bruise, not too bad" You breathe a sigh of relief and smile nervously. "Turn around," he says gently, "Show me your back."

You do as you're told and feel his fingertips on your skin again. "It looks the same here, a bruise, nothing to worry about" His hand moves to the back of your neck, and you feel a gentle shiver run down your spine. He says a little growling, "That asshole got you pretty good, saw him sweep you off your feet. I was attacked by his buddy at the same moment, otherwise I would have reacted faster" "Thanks for saving me, I would have been lost without you" Crosshair snorts softly, and you can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "Indeed" You slowly turn to face him, still half naked, your shirt lying next to you on the blanket. He's not staring at your breasts though, but at your face as you say, "I'm sorry if I'm a liability on this mission" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but his voice sounds soft as he says, "You do your part, I'll take care of the rough stuff, we complement each other well enough" He studies your face in silence for quite a while, and you find it hard to look at him, you're always so nervous around him even though he doesn't really give you a reason to be.

Braver than you feel, you ask him, "What are you thinking about right now?" Crosshair blinks, looks back into your eyes and says, "About how much I'd like to touch you right now. But that's probably not appropriate. Apart from the fact that you probably don't want me to." Your heart starts to race. A mixture of joy, nervousness and a little fear flood your system. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you can feel it all the way up into your throat. You fight with yourself while he looks at you calmly, patiently, waiting. You're fascinated by him, you've liked him for a while, maybe you even have a crush on him. But you didn't expect him to say it so directly here and now. "You want to touch me?" you ask, as if you're not quite sure what these words mean. He tilts his head slightly to the side, then nods and says, "I'm thinking about it, yes. But having just seen how nervous my closeness makes you, I'm holding back." You say honestly in a low voice, "I just don't know how to read you. Sometimes you seem so considerate and thoughtful, other times rather harsh and rude" Crosshair raises his eyebrows, then says, "I'm a soldier, I can't always be gentle" You sigh softly and say, "I know that, I meant explicitly when dealing with me"

He frowns critically and asks, "I was rude to you? When?" "Not rude," you say hurriedly, "Just... grumpy" Crosshair rolls his eyes, but a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth. "I'm a bit impatient sometimes, that may be. I'm not used to working with civilian agents, even though we've known each other for a while now and have worked together from time to time. I'm usually surrounded by other soldiers. There's not much room for subtlety, especially in the field" You nod, you can understand that. Nevertheless, he is very different from his brothers, Wrecker or Tech, for example, are much more relaxed, even Hunter, but you keep this observation to yourself. "Quite understandable," you finally concede. His features relax a little, and he asks you, "Are you afraid of me?" You shake your head and answer without hesitation, "No, not at all" He smirks and says, "I think so too. If you were, you'd probably have put your shirt back on by now. Physical nakedness is also a certain form of showing vulnerability. If you didn't trust me, you would have covered up again long ago"

You blink and realize with surprise that he is right, your shirt is still next to you, you had almost forgotten about it. He slowly reaches out to your face and gently places his hand on your cheek. You hold still and look at him, fascinated, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin. His face comes closer, closer and closer. You automatically close your eyes a second before his lips touch yours. It starts with a gentle touch, almost chaste. A few breaths pass before you feel gentle pressure on your lips and return it. You let yourself be pushed backwards, slowly, gently, until you are lying on your back and Crosshair is halfway over you. His lips part from yours, and he lifts his head to look at you. "I had to try it now," he says with a smirk, "How do you feel?" For lack of better words, you say simply, "Warm" He chuckles softly. "Warm is good" You smile too, even though your heart is racing, you're not afraid of him or his touch, you know you're in good hands, you know you can trust him. He would never hurt you, never push you. You know that a simple word will be enough to put him at a distance again, that he will always respect your boundaries. You feel safe, and your hands wander over his arms, on his chest, over the cool material of his armor.

"Maybe I should at least take off the hard parts of my gear?" You nod and say, "That would be better" Crosshair straightens up again, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him remove one piece of armor at a time until he's wearing only the Blacks on his body. He lies half over you again, resting his weight on his arms and knees. Crosshair looks you straight in the eye and says, "You're not forced to do anything and I won't be upset if you'd rather have me at a distance, you can always say something and I'll back off" You smile at him and nod. "I know, I really appreciate that" He shakes his head and says, "That should go without saying, for everyone, you don't have to be grateful for that. But I noticed earlier how insecure you are and when you mentioned that you've had bad experiences, I thought I should mention it. I don't want you to feel forced into anything" You nod again. You automatically want to say thank you again, but you swallow it. "I don't feel any pressure at the moment" He kisses you again, this time more urgently, more sensually. Close to your lips, he whispers, "Tell me if that changes" You want to answer him, but then you feel his tongue gliding over your lower lip, testing, questioning, searching for access. Your lips open automatically and let him in. Your tongues meet in a velvety collision that sends a shiver through your whole body and makes the heat move under your skin, between your thighs. A soft, sweet sigh comes from your throat, a sound that triggers an intense feeling of success, satisfaction in Crosshair. His long arms wrap around you, one of his long legs slips between yours. Immediately you feel the pulse between your thighs, in the intimate heat of your womanhood. His tongue flicks playfully against yours again and again, chasing it with velvety strokes. Every touch of his tongue in your mouth makes your clit pulsate as if he were kissing you in a completely different place.

His long, elegant fingers undo your belt and pants, pull your belt out of the loops and put it to one side. Just the idea and anticipation of every touch makes your pulse race, your nerve endings vibrate and your panties get wet. You imagined it differently, you expected more fear, but you feel completely safe, Crosshair is gentle, considerate, something unfamiliar, unexpected, but very welcome. As his lips part from yours, he lets out a somewhat shaky breath. His muscles are tense, he holds back. You both know he wants more, but he's taking it a lot slower than his body wants right now. "Is everything all right?" you ask softly, your mind still foggy from his kisses. "Of course," Crosshair grumbles and kisses your neck. The touch makes your nipples harden and causes you to wriggle out of your pants automatically, almost of your own accord, and slip them off your body. Another shaky gasp from Crosshair. His fingertips glide over your shoulder, your stomach, your thigh and back up again. They barely touch your skin, just very gently, then they grab, your thigh, then past your thigh to your right bun. His grip is firm, but not hard.

"I've been waiting for what feels like an eternity for us to get closer," he says, lost in thought, you're not even sure if the words are really meant for you.

His hand leaves your bun and moves forward, over the fabric of your panties, gliding gently over them, drawing teasing circles. Your thighs open for him, your mouth slightly open, another sigh comes from your throat. His lips brush gently over your chin and when he looks at you again, he grins. "You seem pretty comfortable around me by now" Your cheeks are warm as you answer him with a grin, "You could say that" You feel his hard length against your thigh through the fabric of his blacks. He presses himself closer to you, kissing his way from your chin to your ear. Once there, he whispers to you, "Feeling good so far?" A shiver runs through your body, only a small hoarse sound comes out of your mouth. Then his face is over yours again, he smiles smugly, he knows exactly what his words have just triggered in you. The moment he kisses you again, his nimble fingers slip under the fabric of your panties, slowly moving further down towards your heated, wet center. He is gentle, teasing, gliding and caressing over your soft folds. You feel a pulse very clearly, Crosshair's gentle touch awakens in you the desire for more. You buck up your hips, the motion causing his fingers to slide further down, to your expectant wet opening, and a fingertip slides in ever so slightly.

"I can see," he says contentedly, in a smoky voice, "I've whetted your appetite for more" And he's right, you want more, so much more, more contact, to feel more of him. You tug on his blacks, try to take them off. He is only too happy to help. At last you are both completely undressed. Your bodies press against each other, naked skin against naked skin. You're both giving off so much heat, you've long since stopped feeling the coolness of the cave. Crosshair's fingers are all over your skin, gliding, caressing, groping, one pleasant shiver after another coursing through your body. Everything blurs in your perception, all you feel is the heat of your bodies, the pulse between your thighs, Crosshair's touch. As soon as he's on top of you, you cling to him, pulling him closer to you, not giving him a chance to wander. You are so unexpectedly hungry for him that even the Sniper is surprised when you reach down between you, grab his cock and guide it to your wet entrance. He pauses, however, the tip barely an inch sunk into your pussy. "Are you sure you want this?" You blink, your face heated, looking up into his face. Your legs hook around his thighs and press him closer to you, making him slowly sink into you.

Crosshair is well-hung, you can clearly feel him stretching you, sliding deeper into your pussy. But he's careful, even bracing himself a little against your leg clamps that push him deeper inside you. "Slow down, kitten, I don't want to hurt you" You realize he's right, it doesn't hurt yet, but his massive cock is clearly making itself felt in your wet heat. You loosen your grip and let out a soft, deep sigh. He looks at you scrutinizingly, then smiles and says, "You're doing very well, kitten" Slowly he sinks deeper, as far as he can go, then he pauses, leans his forehead against yours and has to collect himself. The tightness that surrounds him feels incredibly intense. You see him bite his lip before he slowly begins to move inside you. Your legs cling to him again, your hands move to his shoulder blades, your fingers cling to his shoulders. It feels like his whole body is the perfect fit for you. The stimulation is everywhere you need it as your bodies melt together. You feel every taut muscle in his body, hear his soft, raspy gasps. Your bodies move together in perfect unison, your head sinks back, a smile spreads across your face as Crosshair looks at you mesmerized, you close your eyes and take in the feeling of him filling you completely.

It's not invasive like you feared, not at all. It feels tender, just right, the way his body nestles against and into you. The pulse intensifies, your fingernails press into his shoulders automatically. Spurred on by this, Crosshair moves a little faster. A hoarse moan escapes your lips, louder than expected, followed by a quiet, surprised, "Oh fuck..." You weren't expecting this intensity, this feeling. Your hands automatically move to his ass and claw into it as you feel yourself slithering towards a climax. Crosshair lets out a small, surprised grunt as your nails dig into his buns, but then he lets out a satisfied growl and a grin twitches at the corners of his mouth as he intensifies his thrusts. You don't hold back at all, your moans and gasps, hoarse, expectant, about to explode. It's music to his ears, adding more fire to his own arousal. As your thighs twitch around his body, your pussy around his cock and you drop beneath him with a long, husky sigh, the knot in his abdomen loosens, the tension dissolving into a long, intense, slowly ebbing pulse as he cums inside you.

You laugh, quietly, grinning. You feel so good, so relieved, liberated, safe. He looks at you, one eyebrow raised. "Feeling good, I guess?" You giggle. "Good? No, great." Crosshair smirks, kisses your chin, your nose, your lips, and leans his forehead against yours with a sigh. "Mission accomplished," he murmurs softly.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

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godnectar · 4 months ago

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HIATUS ANNOUNCEMENT

should've probably written and posted this sooner ngl,, but as much as it saddens me announcing this because I always miss being here often, I think it's obvious this was going to happen at some point.

it has been some weeks since I updated anything here, even longer months since my last yan work, and it's mostly because life has been getting a bit too busy and emotionally consuming tbh 🫠

between classes, courses, fam and relationships stuff, I kinda went back to the point where I'm just going on as much as I can while being drained asf– which has noticeably affected my activity here, and also the reason why I think it's best to put things on hiatus rn, at least on the writing side.

I'll probably come back at any moment to talk or answer inbox messages and maybe even post yan things I've kept working on,,,, but still wanted to make this one note because it didn't sit right with me to keep anyone waiting for updates :(

thank you sm for everything we've done the last two years (especially grateful for my lovely moots, the silly anons and pretty reqs), and hope things go back to usual as soon as possible <33

(where to find me at just in case ★ @godnectar @yonderly-alamort @goldienectar @tojisdove )

#godnectar #announcement #sending everyone the biggest kiss ever rn #tysm to y'all and especially to the ones reading this rn <3 #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #yandere oc #oc x reader #male oc #♡ anon #anon message

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craftypeaceturtle · 6 months ago

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TMNT 2003 Fic Recs

These are mostly going to be hurt/comfort, with a lot of Don fics.

Homecoming by Technodawn

Donnie is kidnapped by someone and held captive for four years.

Posted on fanfiction.net, this fic is brilliant! One of those fanfics that I read entirely one sitting because I couldn't stop. Lots of brotherly moments and the time Don is held captive is emotional and visceral. This whole fic is so grounded and well thought out.

Turning the Blade by Pebr

All of the brothers start experiencing the same intense nightmares and all need to come together to face those fears. Only Leo spirals from these nightmares and falls further from his brothers.

Not for the faint of heart with its vivid descriptions and gore. Fantastic exploration of the characters and Leo in particular. A super creative idea with a unique threat. The exhaustion and injuries make the fic feel real and intense.

Blood-Stained Tiles by RealityBreakGirl

Donnie panics after having to stitch up his father.

I'd recommend anything by RealityBreakGirl in all honesty but this fic has a special place in my heart. It's so sweet and explores the idea of Donnie as the team medic and the pressure that puts him under.

The Gauntlant by T33la

Donnie has been working on a gauntlant that can negate gravity- but it's highly experimental and glitchy. But soon Mikey and Donnie have to bet their lives on this tech.

Again, would recommend you read through everything T33la has ever written, this fic in particular is my favourite. Reads as an episode of the show. The characters are so vibrant and in-character. Some fantastic action and character moments that won't leave my head.

Find the Road by SillySocks

A series of oneshots exploring how everyone is dealing after Leo is sent to the Ancient One.

Such a great exploration of family and what these characters mean to each other. Kind of blows my mind that this idea isn't in a bunch of fanfics. A slow almost grieving look after Leo leaves as everyone finds a new normal and tries to keep going as well.

It Takes a Village by GreenGoddessSmoothie

April is stressed out to the max with dealing with her baby. Thankfully Donnie and Leo come to the rescue.

You won't find a better April hurt/comfort fic. It's so sweet and an amazing fic which explores how these three all see each other. It's one of those fics which is great to read while trying to sleep, very fluffy and a great read.

Can You Break What You Can't See? by lunaless

Donnie struggling after the mind probe.

One of my favourite post-mind probe fics. The struggle Donnie facing to keep his mind in tact and also everyone struggling to get out of the ship is great! It feels intense and the growing realisation that Donnie isn't okay makes for a great read!

The Afterward by halogalopaghost

Donnie after his secondary mutation slowly recovering and being nursed back to health. The cure didn't work instantly and everyone is on edge trying to coax him back to health.

Yes. YES! A great fanfic with a lot of medical speculation and the helplessness of watching a family member fall sick. Leatherhead's exhaustion, everyone's desperation. A fantastic read! Also please check out halogalopaghost, another fantastic fic writer that I could recommend every single work they've done.

Midnight Comforts by mattyj

Raph comforting Don after he had a nightmare about SAINW.

OH! If you want a great character based conversation which completes destroys my heart, you'll find it here. Such a sweet fluffy fanfiction. A fantastic look into Don and Raph's relationship. A must read if you're a sucker for that dynamic.

Matchmaker Matchmaker (Make Me a Match) by LilliputianDuckling

Donnie is in love with Usagi but mistakes that interest in seeing how great Usagi would be in a relationship and so setting him up with Leo.

Okay I usually avoid shipping stuff since it doesn't really interest me but this was so cute and put an interesting spin on Donnie and Usagi. A great little read and the moment when Raph realises what's actually going on is great. The fic that makes me prefer Don x Usagi rather than Leo.

#tmnt 2003 #tmnt #tmnt fic rec #tmnt fanfic #not my writing #2003 donnie #2003 raph #2003 leo #2003 mikey #fic rec

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bitterrobin · 6 months ago

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Things I hate/dislike about Fanon-Damian Wayne

AKA me just bitching about the various icks of Damian portrayals in fanon that range from weirdly racist things to a blatant misunderstanding of the core character.

Whitewashing - not only in art, but in descriptions; making Damian pale or white, an "exact copy of Bruce" and having blue eyes. He'll share features with Bruce of course, but it's rare I see anyone describe him with traits from Talia or Ras or Melisande. Y'know he's still half Arab/Chinese despite Bruce being white. He should have, at the very least, a shade of brown skin and non-blue eyes.

Describing Damian like an animal (hissing, biting, clawing), calling him feral or rabid - I already have a post about how its pretty racist to constantly describe a poc character like this, so I won't go any further here. Also, rabid, really? Anyone who calls Damian that will die by my hand because it's so genuinely ignorant that I just can't excuse it.

Overuse of terms like "Blood Son", gremlin, "Demon Spawn", "Satan" - these spawned completely in fandom and its gotten to the point that I will immediately click off something if its included. Just stop using these as shorthand to describe him or joke about him. Come up with something else, or maybe just don't include Damian in a fic if he's only there to get made fun of.

Connected to the "Blood Son" term, making Damian obsessed with his biological status as Bruce's child and making him demean his adopted siblings/other adopted characters - he's only had a couple instances of this in canon comics. Once, in his introduction in the fight with Tim written by Grant Morrison when his character was still being fleshed out. Again, in a fight with Tim in Red Robin when Damian is mostly being written as an antagonist and not a character of his own. It frustrates me to no end when this is brought up because Damian's status with being Bruce's son has nothing to do with biological connection or genetics. It has everything to do with just being a son of a father that doesn't put any effort to knowing you and seeing him have deep connections to other kids that you have been raised to see as competition, not family.

Constantly having him carry around a sword/katana - this does happen in some comics, but its really not the main weapon he uses as Robin. A good majority of his time as Robin he just used the standard stuff (batarangs, grapple etc). The really aggravating part is when fics insinuate that he'd carry one around in public or in school.

Making Bruce's half of the family his good white saviors, while also making the al Ghuls evil abusers - if you demonize Talia and then prop up Bruce as a good dad who's done nothing wrong to Damian then I'm going to assume that you don't read comics and you don't have a good understanding of Damian's relationship with his parents. If you make Dick or Jason the good protective big brothers while putting down Talia or Ras or Mara, again, I'm going to assume the worst. Dick did not like Damian when they first met. Tim spent most of their time together as Red Robin/Robin hating him. Jason shot Damian point blank in the chest the first meeting they had, and then continued to threaten his life. Damian has never had a great relationship with anyone in the batfamily when he first appeared. Yes, not even Stephanie or Cassandra or Duke. With everyone, it took time for him to be tolerated much less liked or understood. Making them the ones who understood him and babied him from the start ruins his character development and his relationships with them. Only if you're writing an au where Damian is raised by Bruce, then it's excusable but still not the least bit right when handling the al Ghuls.

Making Damian ignorant or plain stupid, especially when comes to white American concepts - Damian is insanely smart. He knows what riddles are. He knows what metaphors are. He knows that Gotham is a city in New Jersey in America, and that American concepts like school clubs and sports teams and cliques and dances exist. Sometimes it sounds you're making Damian intentionally an idiot when you imply he doesn't know what a video game or a tv show is. Just because he grew up sheltered does not mean he's fucking blind. He's a kid who grew up Middle Eastern, not in another planet.

nitpick but Damian calling Bruce "baba" at every turn or throwing in "habibi" when you write ship content - I am not Arabic, but i'd feel the same kind of annoyance if someone wrote Damian calling Bruce "papa" or "padre" all the time, or randomly listing off Spanish endearments in ship fics. In moderation, it can be cute and appreciative. But sometimes it reads like you just discovered a new funny word and you're throwing it around for no reason.

Insisting that Damian should have learned morality or been punished severely by any of the bats when he first showed up - I must stress that none of them did jack shit to teach Damian any kind of morality when he appeared. Bruce met him, yelled at him, fucked off for a mission, came back and then promptly left him behind with Talia before they were presumed dead by explosion. Then Bruce straight up died. Bruce had very little to do with Damian in the early era. Dick, also, didn't really do anything in terms of actually sitting Damian down and explaining the Bat code or just general "killing=bad". He taught Damian to be Robin, and by that process, gradually got through to him about being a hero and a good person. You cannot expect good behavior from a child from the get-go if you've done nothing to teach that child. On that matter then, implying that Damian should have been kicked out of the house or beaten up on behalf of Tim as a form of punishment or a "teaching moment" is genuinely insane. You're going to abuse the already abused ten year old because he hurt your favorite character? Really? You're truly the pinnacle of an adult figure that he should respect /s.

Being annoying about Damian's attitude towards other characters - he's sarcastic and rude on purpose. It's pretty clear from the start to Damian that no one likes him, so he chooses to not like them back. If you cry about him calling Tim names, then I honestly think you don't have a high opinion of Tim at all if you think a seventeen/eighteen year old teenager would be hurt or psychologically scarred by a ten year old calling him a mean name.

Exaggerating Damian's violence and making people terrified of him - calling his fights with Tim "attempted murder" both undermines what murder actually is and undermines Tim's skill levels. The cutting the line incident for example. Obviously the action of cutting it was dangerous, but if you genuinely believe that Tim would have died from it or that he would regard it with any PTSD-level importance is (imo) kind of stupid. We always hear about the actions Damian takes around other characters, but never the canon reaction. In the 2009-2011 era, Tim was angry and annoyed about Damian. Whenever Damian did anything to him, he fought back. He would shoot back remarks, land a blow. Tim wasn't scared of Damian. They didn't even live together long enough for Tim to feel "unsafe in his own home." The second Damian became Robin, Tim left. They never lived in the same house since then, until the reboot, and even then Tim has been pretty independent and Damian has been away from Gotham more often than in it. Same deal applies to Dick and Steph and Jason and Cass, they never took Damian's actions lying down. He's just a mild annoyance to them. In fact, Damian doesn't attack them in their sleep. He doesn't try to kill them every chance he gets. He doesn't plot their demise. Every instance of Damian fighting someone in the family has either been; protective impulse, a reaction to a fight they instigated, or a sparring-type situation where neither of them are taking things seriously.

#a lot of these amount to ignorance leading to racism or making Damian white and stupid or exaggerating his traits into something monstrous #funny how fandom does that a lot #damian wayne meta #damian wayne #dc #a painted bird called tamer #batman #robin #batfamily #batfam meta

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television-overload · 1 month ago

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What Really Happened

(an NCIS fanfic)

September 2024. Tali has some questions about her parents' trip to Paris nearly fifteen years prior, and she's determined to get the details.

Written for the September 2024 Tiva Fic Challenge! This month's prompt was "Jet Lag: What Really Happened?"

Read on AO3

For as long as Tali could remember, her father had told her a story.

Twenty-four hours in Paris. A whirlwind trip, romantic and magical. The thing is, every time he told the story, it was different. Details changed, dialogue was exaggerated to unbelievable proportions… What it lacked in detail, it made up for in sentimentality.

“And then I told her she was the most beautiful thing in the city, even prettier than the Eiffel Tower when it sparkles.”

“Did you kiss?” Tali would ask, eyes twinkling.

“Uh, yeah, of course. Now will you go to bed?”

Tali could see, now, he just told her whatever would get her to sleep the quickest. While she hadn’t understood back then, it couldn’t have been easy to be so suddenly thrust into fatherhood with no warning. But it never mattered to her. He was her Abba, and he was the best dad she could have asked for.

“No, tell me more!” she’d demand. “What did Ima look like?”

He would adjust the frame on her bed stand, gazing wistfully at the picture within.

“She looked like an angel, just like you.”

Only a few things stayed the same with every retelling, as far as she could figure: Her mother and father together in Paris, a quaint cafe not far from the tourist sites, and a Vespa scooter that they rode around the city together.

That all may have suited her just fine as a bedtime story when she was little, but Tali was almost eleven years old, now. She could tell she wasn't being told the full truth, and she had a feeling some of the details he would recite were entirely fabricated. She'd done the math, compared the story with what she knew of their lives before she was born—what others who knew them then had told her. Oh yeah, she had sources.

It just didn’t match up.

Time to test out those detective skills to get to the bottom of it. Surely those were genetic?

There was a box in her parents’ closet. It had been there as long as they’d lived here, shipped over from the U.S. when they first moved. Mostly, she figured it held boring stuff like paperwork and whatever else had been in her father’s desk at NCIS before he quit. But maybe there was more. Maybe it contained all the answers to every question she’d ever wondered about her parents.

Or maybe not.

Kneeling on the floor of the closet, she surveyed the contents of the plain cardboard box. It was a mess of papers. Considering the journey it had taken across an ocean and later from their old apartment to their new one, she wasn’t surprised. There were a few other items mixed in, a colorful stapler with a cartoon mouse on it, a few dusty looking service awards…

And an envelope. Now that looked promising.

Reaching in, she pulled it out, growing more and more certain that what she held was a stack of photographs. Photographs of what, she could only guess. Had she found clues that might explain what her parents had been doing in Paris years before they would ever move here? If not, what other pictures might her father have kept in his desk at work?

She held her breath as she opened it, carefully plucking at the corner of one of the colorful prints as she pulled it from the stack.

“What do you think you are doing?”

Tali jumped, only narrowly avoiding throwing the pictures across the room in reflex.

“Ima!” she squeaked, wondering if it was too late to hide them behind her back. The box wasn’t off-limits, per se, but it did have a sort of mystical quality that made digging around in it feel like a breach of some code. It was from a time long past—a time her parents didn’t talk about much, at least when she was around.

But there her mother stood in the doorway to her room, arms crossed over her chest as she fixed a suspicious glare in her direction.

“I was just—”

Her words trailed off as her mother’s expression quickly shifted from suspicion to curiosity. “What do you have there?” she asked, her folded arms falling to her sides as she made her way across the room, glancing down at the box splayed open in the closet.

Tali held out the envelope. Well, this had been a mission failure, she thought—at least the stealthy, ninja-like aspect of it. It remained to be seen if she had in fact found what she was looking for.

“Just some pictures, I think,” she mumbled, handing them over reluctantly.

Her ima slipped them out of the envelope and flipped through them, the corners of her mouth quirking up in a wistful smile.

“Honey, I’m home!” a voice singsonged from the entry hall, echoey and distant.

Her dad.

He’d started saying that when he got home from work as a joke, but now he did it unironically. It got old pretty quick, but she did find it endearing, in a way.

“Hey, where is everybody?” he asked, his voice getting louder and clearer with proximity. Before long, he was peeking his head around the doorway. “Uh oh, am I in trouble?” he asked, taking note of the box at their feet. “I swear I threw out those old magazines before we moved.”

Tali briefly wondered what magazines he could possibly be talking about, and why he would have a physical copy of a magazine in the first place, but she was much more interested in the photos her mom was holding.

“Look what our daughter found,” her ima said, waving the glossy prints in her father’s direction.

“Not the… in California…”

Her ima laughed. “No. Not those ones.”

Her father looked somewhat relieved. “Ah, then it must be the ones from my brief stint as a travel photographer,” he mused aloud, setting his briefcase aside and approaching their huddle by the closet. He took one look at the photos in her hand and grinned. “I still think that’s my favorite picture, by the way,” he said, nodding down at the one she held separate from the others, then dipping down to press a quick kiss to her lips.

“I didn’t actually get to see them,” Tali pouted, crossing her arms with a huff. “Ima took them away before I could see what they were.”

Her mother shared a look with her father, communicating in that infuriatingly wordless way they always did. What were they smirking at?

“Why don’t we go sit down on the couch in the living room and we can look through them together, my love,” Ima said at last, flicking off the light in the closet.

Tali supposed that was agreeable. Whatever she had found, she could at least now be certain they were photos from her parents’ past. She followed them out to the sofa, taking a seat between them on the cushions.

“You know what these are?” her mother asked, finally granting her a peek at what she had unearthed from the box.

It took all her self control not to whoop in excitement when she spotted familiar streets and buildings in just the first few photos.

Jackpot.

“Dad told me,” she said, smiling as she came across one of Ima looking through postcards at a shop. That must be her father’s favorite. “You guys came to Paris.”

Her mother nodded. “We were sent here for work, that’s right.”

Wait, go back a second.

“For work?” Tali asked, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “Dad never told me that.”

“He—” Ima’s head slowly turned in her father’s direction, fixing him with a meaningful glare. “What did he tell you?” she asked, her tone light and inquisitive, but Tali could sense the undercurrent of tension her comment had sparked. Dad was in troubleee.

She glanced at him quickly before answering. “Well… It all sounded very… romantic,” she spoke. To her left, her father looked like he was trying to disappear into the cushions, an awkward grin pulling at his lips.

Oh, Abba, surely you knew this would one day come back to bite you?

“Tony!” Ima shouted predictably, smacking him in the arm. “Why did you lie to Tali?”

“I didn’t lie to her,” he asserted, chuckling nervously.

“You told me that you kissed her on the Eiffel Tower!” Tali said, adding fuel to the flame. Ima's jaw dropped, and she shot him a look. It was funny to watch her dad squirm. Only Ima could make him do that.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I may have embellished a little,” he acknowledged.

Her mother grabbed the nearest throw pillow off the couch and used it to wallop him in the face, all the while concealing a smile. A woosh of air from the attack blew Tali’s hair back, and she giggled uncontrollably, falling back into the cushions.

“Tony, you have never kissed me on the Eiffel Tower,” she countered irritably.

“I haven’t? Well, we should go fix that,” he said, pretending to get to his feet to leave.

Tali rolled her eyes. “Daaaad.”

He sat back down. “Alright, another time,” he acquiesced. “To be fair, what happened in Paris has always been a bit of a secret between your mom and I. I distinctly remember you lying to Nora on that plane, sweetcheeks.”

“And you lied to McGee,” her mom fired back without missing a beat.

“I knew it,” Tali whispered. Okay, so she knew a little more than she was letting on. Uncle Tim will be delighted that she got a confession out of them.

“I’ll admit it,” Dad started, getting serious once more. “The bedtime story version wasn’t quite the truth.”

Well yeah, that was obvious.

“The truth is, we were on assignment for NCIS,” he continued. “Not very romantic, huh? I guess the way I told it is how I wish it had happened. How it should have happened, if I hadn’t been such a coward.”

This brought a fond, slightly sad smile to her mother’s face, and Tali could feel an arm drape over the back of the couch behind her.

“I wouldn’t say it was entirely unromantic,” Ima said, her fingers playing with the short hair at the back of her dad’s head. “She is old enough to hear this story, yes?” she said, her eyes imploring him to agree with her.

“Most of it,” he answered, breathing out a laugh. “I think she can live without the knitting needle incident until she’s a little older.”

“Agreed.”

Tali crossed her legs on the couch, looking back and forth between her parents. She waited with bated breath for the story to begin, but they sure were taking their sweet time.

Sometimes this happened. They'd just go silent and stare at each other with dopey smiles on their faces until someone or something snapped them out of it. It was annoying.

“Hello?” she said, hopefully reminding them of her presence. “You were saying?”

Her dad was the first to break eye contact, reaching out for the stack of photos and flipping through them.

“Right,” he started. “Do you want to start, or should I, sweetcheeks?”

“You go,” Ima said with a nod. “I want to see if you are capable of remembering this correctly.”

Dad opened his mouth as if to argue, but Tali, with the gift of foresight, distracted him with a question before he could start.

“So, what was the assignment?” she asked, blinking up at him imploringly.

“Protection detail,” he answered, shifting his attention back to her. “A witness who needed safe passage back to the U.S. for a trial. Nora was her name.”

“So you just went there to pick her up and that was it?” Tali asked, desperately hoping that wasn't the case. How boring would that be? No, she knew they had fond memories of the trip. There had to be more than that.

“Pretty much,” her dad answered. “But we flew in the day before, so we got to explore a little bit.”

“Tell me!”

Her mother chuckled, shaking her head at Tali's eagerness.

“Your father wouldn't stop making movie references the entire time we were in the city,” she said. “I think as soon as we stepped foot in the airport, he thought we were on some kind of grand adventure. I had to remind him we were there on business, and that we needed to check into the hotel before doing anything else.”

“You should have seen McGee's face when the Director picked us to go,” her dad said with a laugh. “Oh, it was priceless.”

“What happened next?” Tali implored.

Her father crossed his arms and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Well, your mom convinced me that we needed to go drop our stuff off at the hotel first, so we caught a taxi. Secretly, I think she just wanted to freshen up, fix her hair and makeup and all that after being stuck on a plane for so long. She had a crush on me back then, you know.”

His eyes met her ima’s here, one eyebrow twitching upward teasingly.

“Oh, shut up,” Ima said, rolling her eyes.

“It's true!”

“Not a crush, that was earlier. This was something different.”

“Looove?” he singsonged, his grin infectious.

“Nooo,” Ima sang right back, matching his tone. “I do not know. Maybe. I do not think even I knew what it was at the time.”

“Well I was pretty in love with you,” he responded, practically radiating heart eyes in her direction. “Obviously.”

“You were not so obvious. I thought you were just being a goofball,” Ima spoke.

Any easy mistake, Tali thought.

“I was trying to flirt with you, but clearly I didn't succeed,” he corrected. “You know, Tali, your mom refused to go sightseeing with me.”

Tali turned to her mother, surprised. “What? Why?”

“We had a mission, I was trying to keep things professional,” she said in her defense. “It was in the best interest of our witness that we get a good night's rest and stay on task.”

Yeah, but that sounded boring.

Her father, evidently, agreed. “You're no fun,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“I went to dinner with you, didn't I?” Ima asked.

He begrudgingly nodded. “She did go to dinner with me, I'll give her that.”

“And was the dinner not romantic?”

“Hard to find somewhere to eat that doesn't fit that description in this city,” he countered.

Ziva waved her hand in the air with finality. “There you go.”

Tali couldn’t help but feel that they’d gotten a little off track, but it was still fun to hear about their time together before she was born. She tried to picture them, younger than she’d ever seen them and probably a little wilder, too. She wanted to know more.

“So you went to dinner,” Tali summarized, nudging them to tell the rest of the story. “You didn't go anywhere else?”

Ima jumped in next. “Well, your father… He had rented a scooter—you know about the scooter,” she said, referring to the one in the picture Tali still kept on her nightstand. Tali nodded emphatically. This was one element of the story that had remained consistent throughout every retelling. Her mother continued, “He got us so lost on the way back to the hotel after dinner, that eventually I had to tell him to stop so I could ask someone for directions.”

At this, her father looked highly pleased with himself, his small smile concealing an even wider grin.

“Can I let you in on a little secret, sweetcheeks?” he said.

“Hm?”

“I wasn't lost. I knew exactly where we were the whole time.”

Ima’s jaw dropped open, and Tali thought her dad was lucky that Ima was all out of pillows on her side of the couch that could be used as ammunition.

“Tony! We drove around for at least an hour!” she chastised.

“Exactly! How else was I going to take you to look at the pretty lights around the city, or to all the big tourist sites?”

“I cannot believe you.”

“Come on, you loved it,” he said knowingly, tilting his head at her. “You got to put your arms around me for a whole hour.”

Ima raised an eyebrow and Tali could tell she was determinedly resisting the urge to laugh. “Are you sure that was not your motivation for it, then?”

“Oh, it absolutely was,” he answered easily. “If that was the only time I'd get to feel your arms around me, I was gonna make the most of it.”

Blegh, Tali thought. That was one thing that made her different from most kids in her class. Her parents really really loved each other. And they weren’t afraid to show it.

“I did enjoy it,” Ima admitted. “I liked that cologne you used to wear.”

“Well, that's good,” he said, smiling, “I practically drenched myself in it whenever I knew I'd be working in close quarters with you. I think maybe I hoped it would be like some kind of magic potion that would make you fall madly in love with me.”

“I guess it worked,” her mother teased with a shrug, which her father got a kick out of.

“I guess it did,” he said. “Though I hope you love me for more than just the way I smell. That cologne went out of production years ago.”

Ima’s eyes shone, equal parts charmed and amused. “I do. You know I do.”

His lips pulled back in a smile and he leaned forward, meeting Ima’s lips with his own right in front of Tali. She was practically squished between them, forced to endure their display of affection at close range.

“Would you two like to sit next to each other?” she asked, unimpressed. “I feel like I'm not even here.”

Her parents withdrew, her father suppressing a laugh. “Sorry, where were we?”

“Dinner,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he started. “Well, before dinner, we walked around for a bit, looked at all the little shops. That's when I took this picture of your Ima,” he said, holding out the one of her at the postcard stand. “Pretty good, huh?”

“I still think it would look better in black and white,” Ima spoke, looking at it with a critical eye.

“Maybe we could get a copy made, hang it on the wall,” her father offered, which elicited a chuckle.

“Now, I would not go that far.”

“Did you buy anything?” Tali asked, wondering what someone who didn’t live in the city might want to take home with them as a memento.

“Just some souvenirs,” Dad answered. “And a postcard for McGee. ‘Wish you were here!’”

Ima smiled. “Then we sat and ate dinner.”

“You looked so beautiful that day,” her father mused, gazing fondly at the photograph in hand. “I really do wish I had kissed you. I drove you right by the Eiffel Tower.”

“Which was nowhere near our hotel,” she reminded him.

“Pretty sure we've established that I was being sneaky.”

“What happened when you got back to the hotel?” Tali asked.

Ima looked suspiciously at her. “You are being very nosy today, motek. Why the sudden questions?”

Tali shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “I've just always wondered, that's all.”

Ima narrowed her eyes, not fully accepting that as an answer, but eventually, she continued. “Well, we actually had a nice hotel to stay at, for once. Usually when we traveled, at least in the States, NCIS would book us rooms at the cheapest motels they could find.”

“But not this time?”

She shook her head. “Not this time. They wanted us somewhere close to the embassy, where we would be picking up our witness.”

“Wow.” Their jobs sounded so cool, sometimes. Of course, she knew there was a lot of un-cool stuff they hadn’t told her, but what she did know sounded fun. She still sometimes had a hard time believing her boring old parents were once gun-toting federal agents, chasing down bad guys and saving the day. It seemed even more improbable that her Grampa Gibbs had done the same.

“You're skipping over a very important part of the story, Zee-vah,” her father said smugly, bringing her attention back to the tale. “Tell her what the front desk lady said when we tried to check in!”

Ima rolled her eyes and huffed. “Tony, I can tell you want to say this part, so why don't you just do it?”

He grinned excitedly. “Fine. I will. So we walked in this huge, beautiful lobby, right? And I went up to the desk and said, ‘Excuse me, ma’am. There should be two rooms under the name DiNozzo for us, please.’”

“Two rooms?” Tali asked.

“We were just friends back then, you see,” her abba explained. “Actually, we had been going through a bit of a rough patch. Friends might have been pushing it.”

Ima was quick to correct that. “You were my friend, Tony,” she said, looking at him kind of sadly.

He gave a nod. “Friends, then. But not together. And since we were there for work, it was agency policy for two agents of opposite gender to stay in separate rooms.”

That made sense, Tali supposed.

“But then…” Ima started.

“Hey, you said I could tell this part,” her father whined.

“Alright, then get to the point,” she waved him on.

“But then,” he repeated, “the woman at the desk said there was some misunderstanding with our reservation, and they only had one room for us.”

Misunderstanding? Or mischief on Uncle Tim's part as some form of payback for not getting to go to Paris, Tali wondered. She made a mental note to ask him the next time she talked to him.

“Would you have gotten in trouble?” she asked instead.

“We probably would have gotten a slap on the wrist from H.R., and a slap on the head from Gibbs. But no one ever found out,” her father answered.

From what Tali had heard from Uncle Tim, he knew something about what happened. But the specifics were out of his reach too. That’s where Tali came in.

“God, I was so in love with you,” her abba said, gazing lovingly at her ima. “It was pathetic. I don't know how you could have missed it. That mixup with the rooms was like my wildest dream coming true.”

“Tony…”

“I'm sorry if I drove you crazy that night,” he continued, ignoring her attempt to stop him. “I think I was a little drunk on the wine we'd had at dinner still.”

“You were not drunk. I know, because I let you drive us home. You were just… Tony.”

“Mm. Just me, huh?” he asked, smirking at her with a pleased look on his face.

“I found it endearing. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation.”

“She offered to take the couch,” he informed Tali. “I told her that she was being ridiculous, that the ginormous bed was big enough for the two of us to share, but she tried to insist. Eventually, I threatened to take the couch myself, and she came to her senses.”

“If I had given up the couch to you, you would have complained about your back the whole flight home the next day,” Ima pointed out.

“Would not!”

Tali had to agree with her mother, here. “Dad, that does sound like you,” she said.

“Now you're ganging up on me! That's not fair!”

“Your father was the perfect gentleman that night, Tali,” Ima continued. “Believe me, I was surprised too. Not even one joke about our situation.”

Her dad seemed shocked at this information as well. “Really? I didn't make any jokes at all?” he asked.

Ima shook her head. “None that I can remember.”

“Huh,” he said. “I was probably too nervous myself to say anything.”

“Why were you nervous?” Tali asked.

“Because,” he started, draping his arm over the back of the couch and over Ima’s shoulder, “sharing a bed with someone—especially someone you're secretly pining for—is a very intimate thing. You kind of lose your sense of personal space. Whatever mask you put on during the day comes off, whether you want it to or not.”

“You guys wore masks during the day?” Tali questioned. She pictured superhero masks, or maybe the kind you wear when you’re sick.

“Not that kind of mask,” he corrected. “I mean the emotional kind, when you don't want other people to see how you're really feeling, so you pretend to feel something else. I used to do that a lot when I was younger, and not quite as wise as I am today.”

“As did I,” Ima agreed.

Tali’s face screwed up in confusion. Everything seemed so simple. Why did they make it seem so complicated?

“Why didn't you just tell each other the truth?” she asked.

This time, her mother answered. “We did, more than we told others at least. But that was a very difficult time for your father and I. We were just learning how to trust each other again.”

“Didn't you always trust each other? You were partners!”

Dad’s knee bumped companionably against her own. “You have to understand, Tali, our jobs were very difficult. I don't think you’re ready for the full story quite yet, but your mom had just been through something horrible and scary, and part of it was my fault.”

Ima’s face fell, and she shook her head. “Tony. It was not your fault,” she said.

“At least some of the blame was mine,” he insisted.

“No. Tony, do not think that way.”

He gave her a small, placating smile. “Alright, we'll agree to disagree,” he said. “But the point is, Tali, it was a very strange time for the two of us. Being completely honest with each other wasn't something we were particularly good at.”

“But we got through it,” she said, reaching for his hand.

He smiled, eyes watering as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “Yes. Yes we did. We just danced around a lot of things we probably should have discussed much sooner.”

“Like the fact that you loved each other?” Tali offered.

Her dad gave a dry chuckle. “Oh yeah. That was the biggest one of all.”

“We were not ready for that conversation yet, motek,” Ima said, running a hand through Tali’s hair.

“But that didn't stop you from getting all cozy with me that night, did it, sweetheart?”

He waggled his eyebrows at her, teasing her playfully.

“I think that is probably enough for one day,” Ima said, trying her hardest not to smile at his antics. Her cheeks blossomed pink.

“No, let's keep going!” he said, spurring her on. “Look at you blushing, I can't believe you still get embarrassed talking about this!”

“I am not embarrassed, Tony,” she countered.

“You aren't? Could have fooled me. When I brought it up in the morning at that cafe, I thought you were going to strangle me for mentioning it in broad daylight.”

Tali giggled at this back-and-forth that they were so good at. It wasn’t often that her dad managed to get under Ima’s skin in this way, it was usually the other way around.

“I thought there was a mutual agreement never to speak of that night again,” Ima responded, her voice low.

“Well, I never agreed to any such thing.”

Things just got curiouser and curiouser, Tali thought, intrigued. “What? What happened?” she asked eagerly.

“Well, we started out the night happily keeping to our own sides of the bed,” her abba explained. “A nice, sensible space between us.”

“I was asleep, Tony, I cannot be held accountable for–”

“But then your ima, here, decided that I made a much better pillow than the one she was using, so I got a face full of Ziva hair.”

Tali laughed, her mother’s indignant attempts to correct him striking her as utterly hilarious.

“If you were awake, you could have very easily pushed me off you,” Ima argued.

“Now why would I do that?”

“Because, Tony, we were supposed to be keeping a respectable distance!”

“Counterpoint: Your hair smelled really good and, oh yeah, I was super in love with you.”

Ima huffed, having no comeback for such a line. “So you have mentioned.”

“Anyway, it was the best night's sleep I'd ever had,” her father finished. “Ziva?”

“What?”

“Would you agree?” he asked.

Ima blew out a breath, thinking it over. “Well, at the time, I often dealt with nightmares.”

“And?”

“And… You just want me to admit that I woke up in the middle of the night and didn't go back to my side of the bed, don't you?” Ima stared accusingly at Dad.

“Maybe.”

She rolled her eyes. “Alright, yes, I did. I was comfortable, and the dreams weren't as bad as usual for some reason.”

“Hmm, I wonder what that reason was,” Dad said sarcastically, tapping a finger thoughtfully on his chin. But then he looked at Ima again and smiled, his expression melting into one of adoration. “I wish you would have told me all this back then,” he said. “Could have saved both of us a lot of trouble.”

“No point in dwelling on it now,” Ima surmised, and he gently rubbed her shoulder before pulling back.

“When I woke up in the morning, she was still in my arms, conked out and snoring like a freight train,” he continued his tale.

“What a lovely sight that must have been,” Ima said sarcastically.

“It was!” he said. “I could have laid like that forever. I guess, now I get to.”

More mushy stuff. Great. “Okay, I get it. You love each other. Now is that it?” Tali asked.

Dad shrugged. “Pretty much. The next morning your mom got all awkward and tried to pretend we hadn't just spent the night cuddling in the most romantic city in the world,” he narrated.

“Meanwhile, your father woke up in an unnervingly pleasant mood and hurried off to go sightseeing, while I headed to a cafe for a late breakfast.”

Tali turned to her father. “What did you go see, dad?”

“Well, the embassy isn't too far from here, actually,” he spoke, glancing toward the window in their living room. “I drove around for a bit, past the Louvre, saw everything in that area. Took lots of pictures.”

“And then we met up at the cafe for a little while before it was time to pick up our witness,” Ima finished.

“That's when we got that picture taken. The one in your room.”

Her dad told her, sometimes, about the moment he realized she knew who he was. How that picture had been her connection to him before they met, and how it later connected her to her mother while she was away.

Their family’s story was a strange one. For a long time, she hadn't known the particulars, of course. But she was the only kid at school whose mom was off who-knows-where hiding from who-knows-who and doing who-knows-what. Not that she was allowed to talk about any of that. She only picked up bits and pieces when her dad would talk to Pop Pop after she'd gone to bed, and her memories of those conversations were pretty fuzzy.

She also never fully grasped the significance of the lack of pictures from when she was a baby, or the fact that she had been born in Israel, while her father lived in the U.S.

But now, she had begun to piece some things together, and it made her a little sad. She wondered if she would ever fully understand what had happened. Why, until she was six, they had never been a family together, all in one place.

The fact that her parents had been so close, and yet so far from their happily ending back then… Almost fifteen years ago, now…

“Is that why you wanted us to live in Paris?” she asked her father.

“I guess so,” he said, reaching for Ima's hand. “Part of me, I think, hoped we'd find her here right away. Like maybe that picture frame in your bag had been a message telling me where to meet her. But also, yes. We had nothing but good memories here. Seemed a good place for a fresh start.”

“The same cannot be said for the airplane we took back to America with our witness,” Ima joked, lightening the mood.

“Oh, no. Definitely not,” Dad agreed. “If I wanted to experience mortal peril on an airplane, I would just watch Liam Neeson in ‘Non-Stop.’ But then, that movie hadn't come out yet. Come to think of it, I feel like we should have been contacted for our expertise by the studio that made that movie. Do you think they could have given us writing credits?”

Tali sensed that the rest of the story would have to wait for another day. Most of their case stories were like that. Just a couple more years, then maybe she’d be old enough.

“Thanks for telling me,” she said, interrupting her father’s rambling about movies.

“Of course, neshama sheli,” Ima said, placing her hand on her knee.

“Anytime, kiddo. This was fun.”

“And?” Ima prompted.

“And,” he continued, “I’m sorry for making up stories when you were little. I should have told you the truth.”

Tali looked at him, smiling when his eyes met hers. She leaned into his side, and he lifted his arm, welcoming her in for an embrace.

“It’s okay,” she assured him. “I liked your stories. They were like fairy tales.”

He sighed. “If only it had really been like a fairy tale.”

“It is, though!” Tali said seriously, leaning back to face him. “You got your happily ever after, right?”

Dad’s eyes lifted to meet Ima’s, and they shared a smile, another one of their silent conversations.

“You are right, Tali,” Ima said, eyes shining with some deep emotion. “Maybe we had a fairy tale ending after all.”

-.-.-

Tali waited until her parents had gone to bed before sneaking out of her own room and into the kitchen. She found the phone out on the countertop where her father had left it, and quickly navigated to the right name in his contact list.

She pressed the call button and the phone rang. While she waited, she tried to mentally count backwards and estimate the time it was in D.C., but that was entirely too much math for this time of night.

Eventually, the line connected with a click.

“McGee,” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Uncle Tim!” Tali said in a whisper.

“Hey, Trouble!” he greeted jovially. “Whatcha got for me?”

Tali’s chest bubbled with giddiness, and she bit her lip to keep from shouting the answer.

“Uncle Tim, they told me everything!”

-.-.-

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sidekick-hero · 1 year ago

Text

wear me like a locket around your throat

Steve has always been possessive in his relationships.

Not just in his romantic ones either, although that was where the possessiveness reared its ugly head the most. But even with his friends, Steve had always wanted to be their best friend. Their only friend, really. Before Nancy, Carol had been the only real test of his and Tommy's friendship. Tommy had been his best friend, and sharing him with Carol was not something Steve wanted to do.

So he'd made her his, too, the three of them inseparable. Until everything changed.

With his girlfriends, the possessiveness was even worse. He wasn't proud of it, far from it. So he tried to curb it, he really did. All Steve allowed himself were these little reminders, little things here and there that showed the world that this one person was completely and utterly his. It's why he gave Kelly his varsity jacket sophomore year, and it's why he bragged all night when Julie wore one of his button-downs at a pool party. It's the same reason he gave Nancy his class ring, because he was so proud to call her his at the time.

That's all he really let himself have, just these little things, mostly insignificant to anyone but himself. Steve had it totally under control.

Until Eddie.

Maybe it’s because he almost lost him before he even got the chance to call Eddie his. Maybe it’s because he already lost too much, so he clung to the things, the people, he still had even tighter.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie.

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

He hadn't set out to buy one. He had just tagged along when Eddie had invited the kids on a trip to Indy because this supposedly amazing D&D store had just opened and they had to check it out. But as Eddie and the kids spent hours and hours in that store, Steve had gotten bored and had wandered off to kill some time until the nerd troop had had their fill for the day. As he walked along the sidewalk, half window-shopping, half people-watching, he came across a sex shop and curiosity got the better of him.

A faint blush had crept across Steve's face as he entered and saw all the whips, harnesses and toys the store sold. He and Eddie had only recently dipped their toes into the... less vanilla sex stuff, so while they had done a lot of extensive research and he definitely recognized some of the items, Steve still felt a little overwhelmed by the amount of options.

As he walked along the aisles, he looked at some of the toys, but finally decided that this was something he wanted to buy with Eddie. The thought of being able to watch Eddie pick out something for them to use was weirdly arousing, and so he made up his mind that he would leave the store empty-handed that day.

That is, until his eyes landed on the collar.

It was nothing special, really. Just a wide band of soft-looking black leather with a silver metal hoop on the front. But it was enough to make Steve's heart skip a beat, because now all he could think about was Eddie in that collar. Eddie in that collar and nothing else. Eddie in that collar as a true sign of devotion, of belonging, of belonging to Steve.

A mantra of mine, mine, mine echoed through his mind as he grabbed the collar and bought it without thinking twice. It was as if he had blacked out, someone else taking control of his body at that moment. Like a horny, possessive mind flayer. Steve vaguely remembers the saleswoman winking at him, telling him to have fun, and Steve assuring her that he would.

It was as if he saw himself walking out of the store, a discreet plastic bag in his hand, which he hurriedly tossed into the trunk of his car as he saw Eddie and the kids coming out of the store.

He made up some story about a new belt, and as they drove back to Hawkins, he tried to push all thoughts of his latest acquisition out of his mind.

But now, a few days later, the collar feels heavy in the plastic bag as Steve takes two steps at a time up the stairs to the trailer’s porch. His heart is in his throat as he knocks on the door. He hasn't felt this nervous since he picked up Eddie for their first date.

What if Eddie doesn't like the idea? What if this is somehow too far for him? Or worse, what if he pretends to like it too, just for Steve's sake, but secretly finds it weird or unsettling?

Wait, no. Eddie wouldn't do that. He always stresses the importance of open communication and telling each other what they like and don't like, what they need and want from each other. Eddie would tell him if he didn't like it and they could move on.

So this is going to be fine.

Steve really hopes it will be fine.

For a second he considers running back to his car, throwing the collar back in the trunk and just forgetting about the whole thing. But he doesn't get the chance, because just then Eddie opens the door.

The sight takes his breath away. It always does. Even in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his hair a wild mess, Eddie still manages to look gorgeous and that voice in his head pipes up again.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie greets him with the same smile he always has. His Steve smile, as Robin likes to call it, with his brown eyes all warm and sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin that puts his dimples on full display.

“Hi.” Steve replies with his own private smile as he walks in and presses a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“Whatcha got there? A present? For me?" Eddie's eyes immediately zero in on the plastic bag in Steve's hand. Steve lets out a breathy laugh, because he should have known that Eddie would notice the bag right away. He's like a dragon from one of his fantasy novels, always on the hunt for more treasures to hoard, and lucky for him, Steve brings him plenty of treasures.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of."

"Can I open it?" Eddie asks, mischief and anticipation written all over his face. He's already making grabby hands in the direction of the bag, so Steve decides to get it over with quickly, knowing full well that Eddie would be insufferable if he didn't get his present immediately.

He swallows thickly and wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans as Eddie takes the bag and reaches inside to grab the only item in it. God, Steve really hopes he didn’t make the wrong decision and even more so, he hopes that Eddie likes it as much as he does. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Eddie hates it. Spontaneously combust, maybe.

God, Eddie's dramatics are rubbing off on him.

The trailer is dead quiet as Eddie stares at the leather collar in his hands, the only sound being the crinkle of the plastic bag as it falls to the floor. Eddie's unusual silence doesn't do much for Steve's nerves, and he feels his stomach twist into knots the longer Eddie remains silent. He has to say something, anything.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Steve blurts out. "I mean, I don't know if I can return it, the lady at the store didn't say. Or maybe I can sell it, I dunno, but just know that it's totally fine if you don't like it. I just thought..."

"When did you buy it?" Eddie interrupts his ramblings, and really, God bless him. At least this is a simple question, not like 'Why do you want me to wear a collar?' because honestly, Steve isn't sure he's ready to answer that.

"Last week. When we were in Indy."

"You sneaky bastard, I knew you hadn't bought a new belt!" Eddie grins. "I can't believe you had that with you when the kids were there. Can you imagine Henderson finding that?"

"Oh my God, can you please not mention him right now?" Steve groans. Judging by the fact that Eddie hasn't said anything negative about the collar, Steve's confidence is slowly returning. Still, he needs to know if Eddie really likes it, that he really wants this, too. "So, uh, do you like it?"

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his eyes again fixed on the collar in his hands. "Yeah, it's... I like it. Thank you." The last part is said with Eddie's eyes boring into his, and the intensity behind them makes Steve's heart beat faster in his chest.

"Good. Glad you like it." He tells Eddie, his own voice full of... something.

Something heavy.

There's a long silence in which they both stare at each other, unsure of what to say. Or maybe they know exactly what to say next, what to do next, they're just not sure who's going to be the one to actually bring it up.

Eddie is the first to break the silence, he always is.

"You want me to put it on for you?"

Steve feels his dick twitch at the question, the for you ringing in his ears at the same time the mine, mine, mine mantra comes back with a vengeance.

"Please."

Steve doesn't even recognize his own voice at that one single word, but Eddie doesn't comment on the naked need in it. He just nods thoughtfully, and Steve somehow expects Eddie to just fasten the collar around his neck himself.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he holds the collar out to Steve, and when Steve takes it from him with a questioning look, Eddie smiles his Steve smile and holds his hair up, exposing his neck in a clear invitation. It's such a small gesture, but it's enough to make Steve's mind spin out of control.

Steve has helped Eddie with accessories before. He's untangled dozens of necklaces, untied his leather bracelets countless times, and he's always the one to remove Eddie's rings before they go to sleep. In theory, putting on a collar shouldn't be much different, but they both know it's more than just an accessory.

It's a symbol of trust, of devotion, and it makes Steve feel like his skin is too tight for his body.

Steve feels like he's watching himself from outside his body as he undoes the clasp and places the collar around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's skin is almost hot to the touch under Steve's cold hands, and he can feel Eddie flinching slightly at the initial shock before giving himself completely to Steve's touch. Steve doesn't believe Eddie realizes this, yet Steve's heartbeat swells with the quiet trust and submission.

Steve makes a silent vow to never fail Eddie's faith in him.

Before fastening the collar for good, Steve tests the fit by sliding his finger between the leather and Eddie's neck. When he finds the perfect fit, he buckles the collar and presses a kiss to the skin between the sharp edge of his jaw and the soft leather.

"Alright? Not too tight?" Steve asks, his breathing already heavy.

"No. No, it's perfect." Eddie croaks.

Steve takes a slow step back to admire the sight of Eddie wearing the collar. His collar, the one Steve gave him. Steve's breath stutters at the sight of it. It's really not that different from the accessories he usually wears, it fits right in with the chains and heavy rings, but it's still different.

Because while his accessories are a part of Eddie, the collar is a part of Steve. There is a meaning behind it, a purpose. It's not about aesthetics, though the black leather looks incredibly alluring against Eddie's pale skin. It's a visual reminder of their bond, their hearts worn not on their sleeves but on Eddie's neck. It says that Eddie is his, but it's also a tangible sign of Steve's devotion.

He only ever wants Eddie to wear his collar, and his mind is already buzzing with ideas for a custom-made one.

“Fuck.”

"Yeah? You like it?" Eddie ducks his head as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. The juxtaposition of Eddie's sweet shyness and the things Steve wants to do to him makes his stomach do summersaults.

"Yeah. I really, really do. Now c'mere because I need to kiss you right the fuck now." Steve mutters, his hand coming up to cupping Eddie's cheek and pulling him in to crash their lips together.

From the moment their lips touch, Steve's entire body is on fire. Any other day he would enjoy teasing this kind of kiss out of Eddie, driving him wild with barely there kisses and pulling back at perfectly timed moments.

But not today. Today it's heated from the start, fueled by nothing more than that simple leather band around Eddie's throat.

Steve feels like the sight of Eddie wearing the collar has unleashed the insatiable beast in his chest. He's never been so demanding when kissing anyone before, but it's like a feedback loop between him and Eddie. The more hunger Steve feeds into Eddie's mouth with his tongue, the more Eddie demands. He coaxes Steve to push harder, to plunge his tongue deeper, ready to let Steve crawl into him through his throat.

With his hands on Eddie's hips, Steve begins to walk them back until Eddie hits the kitchen counter. The moment he does so, Eddie leans back and spreads his legs so easily for him, just wide enough for Steve to slide his leg between them. Their simultaneous moans fill the room as their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve is pretty sure he's never been so hard in his life. And they're not even naked, not even doing anything but kissing.

Eddie Munson is going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

Not slowing down as he tries to eat him alive, Steve begins to roll his hips against Eddie, his upward strokes forceful, just this side of too much. The delicious drag of his heavy cock against Eddie is enough to force Eddie to pull away from Steve's mouth, a series of needy whimpers rolling off his tongue.

"Shit, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good." Eddie gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes heavy-lidded.

But Steve isn't done kissing him, and without thinking twice, he grabs the metal loop of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie toward him. Their lips are only inches apart when they both realize what has just happened. Steve's cheeks turn red with shame and he's about to stammer an apology when he meets Eddie's eyes. He expects to find a sense of shock in those dark brown eyes, but instead the only thing Steve finds there is a heavy dose of lust.

Steve swallows his apology and instead asks, "Okay?"

"So fucking okay." Eddie smiles, his voice dazed.

Steve smiles back at him and uses the collar to pull him the last few inches so their lips can finally meet again. Eddie whimpers so beautifully against his mouth and it's a sound Steve wants to hear over and over again.

Licking over Eddie's lower lip, Steve lets the hand that's not still hooked into the metal ring of Eddie's collar travel south to Eddie's chest. It finds a nipple through the fabric of Eddie's shirt, the material thin from wear, and he thumbs it.

It has the desired effect, allowing him to swallow more of the whimpers that fall from Eddie's mouth. Another hard thrust of Steve's hips against his cock makes Eddie throw his head back with a high-pitched moan, showing off his beautiful neck with its collar.

Steve thinks he's going to die if he doesn't get his hands and mouth on every inch of Eddie he can reach.

Fixing his mouth to the tantalizing patch of skin just below the collar where Eddie's neck meets his shoulder, Steve steps right in between Eddie's legs, spreading them even wider. Before Eddie can react to any of this, he stoops, grabs the back of Eddie's thighs and lifts. Eddie yelps, his legs and arms wrapping around Steve on pure instinct, and Steve hums against Eddie's neck. The weight of Eddie in his arms feels good, their groins pressed tightly together and his body heat seeping into Steve.

"Oh my God, how are you even real?" Eddie asks, but Steve thinks it's one of those hypothetical questions he likes to ask sometimes. So he ignores it, just scrapes his teeth across Eddie's skin to show him that he's very real and willing to leave reminders of that on Eddie's body.

With careful steps so as not to drop his precious cargo, Steve walks over to the couch and drops onto it. Eddie bounces into his lap, the movement causing him to slide forward so that his ass sits on Steve's hard-on. Unable (and unwilling) to stop himself, Steve humps up once, letting Eddie know how fucking hard and desperate he is for him.

"I need you to touch me. Please, Steve, touch me." Eddie begs so sweetly. The blush on his face reaches under the collar of his shirt and Steve needs to see how deep it goes. He quickly removes Eddie's shirt, relishing the miles of pale skin adorned with black ink and red desire. Their position brings him to eye level with Eddie's chest and he immediately fastens his mouth to Eddie's stiff nipple as if he's hungry for it.

And he is, a hunger deeper than anything he's ever felt before. A hunger that can never be fully satisfied.

Above him, Eddie whines, a pained sound, as if it hurts, as if it's too much, the way Steve licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive bud. But he also brings his hands up and buries them in Steve's hair, pressing his face against Eddie's chest as his hips roll against Steve.

"Off," Eddie demands, and for a second Steve is afraid he has misread Eddie, that he wants Steve off of him. But then he tugs on the back of Steve's shirt and whines another "Off", and Steve gets the hint.

Releasing Eddie's nipple, he moves to pull off his shirt, not helped at all by Eddie's greedy hands on his body. After tossing it somewhere behind the couch, he grabs the metal ring of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie forward again to catch his lips in another desperate kiss.

His fingers remain hooked around the metal loop as their mouths slide against each other and his eager tongue licks the spit from Eddie's teeth. At the same time, Steve moves his other hand down from where it's pressed between Eddie's shoulder blades to the small of his back, encouraging him to ride his lap.

Eddie ruts against him, the roll of his hips picking up speed, their rhythm sloppier, and they both pant into each other's mouths at the delicious yet not enough friction of denim on denim.

They continue to make out, Eddie writhing on top of him while Steve devours his mouth. At some point, Steve slips his hand under Eddie's jeans and underwear, kneading and squeezing his ass to get him even more riled up. Steve has noticed how Eddie gets turned on whenever Steve plays with his ass, and today is no exception. As soon as his fingers start to tease his hole, Eddie comes apart over him.

The sounds Steve is pulling out of him have Steve almost on the verge of coming himself, and when he looks up at Eddie's face, he finds his eyes glazed over and his cheeks flaming. In between whimpering and moaning, Eddie continues to babble incoherently, pleading and begging Steve for anything, everything, as he continues to rub against Steve's lap. His movements become more and more erratic and Steve knows that this is a sure sign that Eddie is close, a hair's trigger away from spilling into his boxers.

And even though the thought makes more heat pool in his own groin, that's not what Steve wants right now. He wants to savor this moment, wants to burn it into his memory forever.

Wrapping his hand around Eddie's neck, just above the collar, he restrains Eddie from moving.

Eddie whines pitifully, no shame in his face at his own need. He's gone too far, Steve realizes, he's been floating for a while and Steve putting a stop to it must feel like punishment to him.

"Shhh, sweet thing," Steve coos in his most soothing voice. "Just lemme look at you. Just for a moment. Wanna remember you like this."

And Eddie tries, he really does. Tries to let Steve look at him, holds still as Steve noses up his sternum and to his jaw, biting the jut lovingly. But that's all he can take and Steve feels the strain in his legs from trying to keep his hips from chasing his release.

Steve decides to put him out of his misery because Eddie has been so good for him, so sweet and obedient.

"Aw baby, you need a little help?" he asks sweetly.

Eddie nods frantically, his mouth slack and his face and chest pink, his blush visible under his collar.

"Maybe next time I'll buy you a leash. You'd like that, huh?" Steve can't help but push a little, playing with their newfound dynamic. "D'you like being on my leash, parading around town and showing everyone who you belong to?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes." Eddie slurs his words, his body limp like a rag doll as he writhes on top of Steve, desperately seeking more friction.

"Say it."

"Steve..."

"Say it." Steve's grip on the collar tightens.

"'m yours, Stevie. I'm yours, always yours." Eddie whimpers.

"Good boy."

It's as if that's all Eddie needed to hear to come with a broken sob, a litany of "thank you, thank you, thank you" falling from his mouth as he shakes apart in Steve's arms. His hips continue to stutter against Steve's lap as his orgasm rips through him and the pressure against Steve's own painfully hard cock is the sweetest torture.

When it's over, the last drop milked from him, Eddie collapses forward like a marionette whose strings have been cut. His face is pressed into Steve's neck and he continues to make snuffling noises against it, his lips and tongue wet against Steve's overheated skin.

It's so trusting, so vulnerable as Eddie lies in his arms, limp and completely out of it. The voice in his brain sings its mantra of mine, mine, mine louder than ever, eager to claim Eddie even more as its own.

Fueled by this desire, Steve lifts Eddie out of his lap and spreads him out on the couch before straddling his waist. The subtle pressure of Steve's ass against Eddie's spent and sensitive cock draws another whimper from Eddie as he stares up at Steve in starstruck wonder. It's an exquisite sight, Eddie's beautiful body offered to him in satiated surrender.

Steve unzips his pants and frees his hard and leaking cock, sighing with relief that it's no longer straining behind his jeans. He's so turned on by the sight of Eddie like this, all floating and spent and his, that he doesn't have to think twice as he grips his aching cock. He starts at the head, collecting the leaking pre-cum and spreading it over his length to ease the glide as he begins to jerk himself off with a grunt. Fuck, but it hurts so good.

"God, look at you. So pretty and all mine. My good boy." Steve moans, his hand speeding up. He's already close, feels like he's been since he closed the clasp of the collar around Eddie's neck.

"The sounds you made, Eddie, shit. Never sounded sweeter. Wish I could have filmed it, want to show everyone what a good boy you are for me, just for me. Wanna put you on a leash and show you off, show everyone who you belong to."

Eddie's mouth goes slack as Steve's dirty praise sinks in and he whimpers his name brokenly.

"What is it, baby, what do you need? I'll give you anything you want."

"Wanna," Eddie starts before a bitten whine cuts him off. "Wanna suck your cock, God, it's so big, I need it, stuff it down my throat, Steve, please."

Fuck, Steve wants that too. But there is still that voice in his head chanting mine, mine, mine and claim, claim, claim and he knows what he has to do to appease it.

Wanting to at least stuff Eddie's mouth with something, he slides three thick fingers between his lips and Eddie begins sucking eagerly.

"That's right, doll," Steve praises Eddie, his voice sweet even with the condensing words that follow. "You need your mouth stuffed so bad, don't you? Look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around my fingers."

He's jerking off furiously, turned on beyond belief. When Eddie's hips hump into him, it throws him off balance, sending him tumbling forward, his fingers sinking deeper into Eddie's mouth and Eddie gags on them.

It's the feel of Eddie's throat fluttering around his fingers that sends Steve over the edge, thick white streaks of cum splattering Eddie's face, neck and chest.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Steve has left the building, letting his animal brain take over as he pulls his fingers out of Eddie's mouth, covered in Eddie's saliva, and uses them to rub his cum into the leather of the collar.

"Mine," he whispers reverently before capturing Eddie's lips in a surprisingly soft kiss.

Eddie's too out of it to really kiss back, floating somewhere above them, so Steve decides to clean him up before the cooling cum becomes uncomfortable.

Pressing another soft kiss right between his eyebrows, he tells Eddie, "I'll just get a washcloth, be back before you know it.

And he is, taking no more than ninety seconds to return with a glass of water and a warm washcloth to clean Eddie's cheeks and chest. He removes Eddie's pants and carefully cleans his groin as well. When he's finished, he takes off his own pants and underwear, grabs the soft blanket hanging over the back of the couch, and joins Eddie on the couch.

He pulls Eddie on top of him and spreads the blanket over them. Wayne won't be home for a few hours, so Steve isn't worried. Above him, Eddie gets comfortable, nestling his face in the crook of Steve's neck and sighing contentedly. Steve begins to stroke Eddie's hair, sure that if he could, Eddie would be purring right now. With a smile on his face, Steve decides that buying the collar was the best idea he ever had.

He closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead before letting sleep take over.

#steddie #steddie smut #eddie x steve #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #my writing

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mcufan72 · 9 months ago

Text

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

**********************

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

*************

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

Tag list:

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thatdeadaquarius · 2 years ago

Note

after scrolling through your posts i felt complelled to send an ask (i wonder why)

This kinda? relates to all the languages posts you've been making (was giggling and kicking my feet while reading them, and got inspired) but because I only speak English, I wanted to put a twist on it.

Creator who has audio processing issues and doesn't realise that Teyvat DOES actually speak the same language as them for a good while.

Because as a person with very good hearing, i sure don't fucking understand what people are saying most of the time, especially in big crowds. (its like listening to the sims sometimes man, i'm fighting for my life trying to understand😭)

So imagine a Creator getting dropped into Teyvat and getting found by a group of hunters or treasure horders, who instantly start panicking and talking all at once because 'omg our god is here' and all that.

And the Creator is still confused and diorientated, so all they're hearing is ✨words✨and they just assume that no one in Teyvat will understand them.

And then when they arrive in one of the nations and get to meet the vision bearers for the first time, the Creator makes a thirsty comment about one of them (probably would be Diluc in my case) and the entire crowd just goes SILENT.

So silent that the Creator can perfectlly understand what that vision bearer said in response.

Anyway, i love your blog :) not sure when you're going to get this, time zones are funny, but I hope you like it

Giggling and kicking?? Over my stuff??? 🥺🥺🥺💘💘💘 You sneaky little charmer ✨️

ALSO

AUDIO PROCESSING DISORDER ASK!!!!?????!!!!

IM IN THE MIDDLE OF TRYING TO GET ADHD DIAGNOSIS AND GOT AN APD TEST NOT TOO LONG AGO BC THOUGHT I HAD IT!!

FRIENDO!! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!! ✨️✨️✨️🌸🌸🌸

Have a cookie!! 🤲🍪 tysm for the ask im very very happy to see it!! :D!!

(subliminalmessagingyouwillgoclicktheaskbuttonandsendmeanasksubliminalmessaging)

AHFJDLLAHFAAJSK!! LOSING IT OVER THIS!!

(Me from the future editing: Sorry i wrote an entire sloppy written scenario over this its diluc focused, jfc sorry and i hope u get smth outta it 💀)

Oh good lord you being some kind of Creator god after getting sucked into the goddmn video game world is absolute HELL for your APD

Aint nobody tellin u nothing bc i can totally see that scenario happening bc everyone is like blabbering at you constantly, they all wanna get close to you to talk so its just [insert that general cafe crowd noises here]

Like u wish u had lofi to go with it bc u sure as hell cant get a word in edgewise

I know i keep writing abt Mondstadt, mostly bc first city -> intro to game -> therefore you land there

But i promise ill branch out guys but i got an excuse this time u mentioned Diluc 🔥

Honestly bc u probably arent trying to talk back to them (which they dont rlly know why? Bc they totally have heard ur voice while u were in ur world, when they were ur vessels)

They kinda assumed either A. You lost your voice B. You're overwhelmed, ppl r getting WAY too close to you, back off Npcs C. Or you don't speak THEIR language

So ofc Mondstadt brings you into the city and their planning a big ol festival, u came right in time for Windblume anyway, and by the time your done shaking hands and just waving and smiling (bc what else can u do u cant hear these fuckers, maybe u caught a "the" or a "hello" but you could've definitely been imagining it)

And finally you are free of the general crowd, but most of the Vision bearers (Allogenes) who were ur vessels wanna stick around, so u all end up in Angel's Share somehow

It's hella packed, and it's a bar.

So yeah u still can't hear shit, and now it just sounds like one of those fantasy medieval bar audios ambience videos

Ur just kinda kicking ur feetsies on a bar stool while like,, 4 or 5 differrent special character dishes are sitting in front of you

Diluc's behind the bar, and has been so sweetly attentive to you all evening, no matter how many tipsy patrons come up yelling for refills or drinks (or at least thats what u assume, bc u kinda end up just,, jumping and hitching ur shoulders up and trying to be lowkey about covering ur ears...)

He always comes and refills ur glass when it gets to even half-full, swiping away plates that have gone cold, and if you still want smth off of it, he's so perceptive no language needed bc he just sees your face and starts heating up the plate again with his vision with his hand :)

He's actually been the best thruout all this bc he already isn't super talkative, so ur pretty sure you've only seen his mouth open a few times, but otherwise u just communicated with him via actions/expressions

So ur chilling, well sorta, ur starting to kinda get overstimulated by the day and now this loud ass bar, and the fact that ur convinced no one speaks English here...

But hey!

Diluc's cool, u got food, and maybe u can charade to him u wanna find somewhere to retire to now for the night,,

You try and do that but he's pretty busy running around still,

"Damn, at least I get to see his ass though."

...

Diluc freezes.

You freeze.

Jean, Lisa, Venti, Amber, Kaeya, Rosaria freezes.

The whole bar goes silent.

Their god of gods finally spoke.

Oh they can understand you alright. (Also u were looking right at Diluc when you said it so, kinda obvious who u mean, somebody points to you behind Diluc)

Diluc just kinda,, sputters, like jerkily turns around and everything like a fried robot

"I- ahem- I- um- y-your Grace- I-"

Poor guy.

He doesn't even know what to say 🤷‍♂️

He has been progressively getting closer and closer to his hair color, his cheeks, his neck, his ears its a full white boy flush he cant escape its so obvious (should he say thank you? How do u even begin to thank a god for complimenting ur ass??!!)

He's caught between facing you and turning around and ducking back into the kitchen and never coming out again (unless it's just you two)

...Was it always this hot in here? Or did Diluc do this to you? 😵‍💫

(Well at least it's a lot quieter now)

You take the next logical step in this situation, and gently let your head thud into the bar.

...

It's a tie between Venti and Kaeya who busts out laughing first.

CHRIST ALMIGHTY IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG I HOPE TUMBLR MAKES IT "READ MORE" BC I CANT FIND THAT OPTION ON MOBILE

IF U KNOW WHERE THAT BUTTON IS PLS LET A BITCH KNO 😭😩

UPDATE I FIGURED IT OUT FUCK YEAH

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

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