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eddiesxangel · 1 year ago

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I Don’t Think We Are In 1986 Anymore? Part 2

Big thanks to @allthingsjoeq @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing for the prompts. The Stranger Prompts - directly from the Twilight Zone.

Sort of proof read, if you see mistakes no you didn’t… Sharing is caring. Reblog and comment 💙

You have to read part 1 for this to make any sense.

Cw: time travel, modern/Henderson reader, the aftermath of the upside down/ finding out who your father is and the reunion they never thought possible. Angst, fluff, smut 18+ content, fingering (f), oral (m) p in v sex, cream pie, MDNI

wc: 10k. oops

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god…”

"What the fuck! What the fuck! What the fuck!"

You watch and listen as your father has a mental breakdown in your open-concept kitchen. You just got off the phone with your uncle Steve, telling him to get to your place ASAP.

Your dad was stunned… and Eddie was stunned… What were the odds that Eddie would stumble into the house belonging to Dustin Henderson’s daughter?

Eddie could barely discern any similarities. You resembled the woman who came in after Dustin, and Eddie could only presume it was your mother. If he squinted, your eye shape was somewhat reminiscent of Dustin's, but even that was a stretch.

“How?! When?! Holy shit, man, you’re-you’re dead! You died in the upside down!” Your father was dumbstruck, as was your mother, because Eddie died in 1986. Everyone mourned and moved on with life.

“The upside down?” You looked to your mom to see if she knew what the two men were discussing. It seemed that she was also withholding something from you.

“I don’t know, man! That was only a few hours ago for me!” Eddie yelled.

“Holy shit,” your dad whispered.

“Wait. You think I’m dead? Like you guys just left me there? In that place?! With those demo-bats?” Eddie’s eyes were wide and, if you were being honest, he looked a little crazy.

“Well… I mean… so much shit was still happening!”

Your dad was interrupted by a frivolous knocking on the door.

You rush over to the door. Standing on the other side are your Uncle Steve and Aunt Robin, aka the woman from whom you got your nickname.

You grab both of them before they can even say hello and drag them by their shirt sleeves.

“Woah, Birdie, what’s going on!”

You didn’t need to speak because you were in the kitchen before they could continue.

You hear your aunt audibly gasp, and your uncle’s mouth hangs agape, stunned.

There he was, a dead man walking in your kitchen, clear as day.

“What the fuck”-“That’s not?”

“Uh, hey,” Eddie waves.

“Holly shit,” they both say in unison.

Before Eddie knew what was happening, Robin charged at him and wrapped him in a bear hug.

This was weird for Eddie. He hardly knew the woman—not really. He had only spoken to her for the first time a week ago… well, a week and thirty-eight years ago.

“Ouch!” -“Sorry!”

“What the actual fuck is going on” she pulled back, still gripping his shoulders.

“Hey, uh, Robin.”

Her long fingers trailed up his shoulders to grab him by the face, squishing his cheeks together, not believing the sight before her.

Despite the passing years, her youthful features still shone through. Her face was adorned with a sprinkle of freckles, her hair, still a beautiful shade of dirty blonde with some strands of silver, was now cut a little shorter, but it looked just as radiant as ever. She was unmistakably Robin, just a more mature and refined version of herself.

“Ohhhh-okay,” Eddie forced her hands off his cheeks.

“Okay, what is going on here?” Steve spoke.

Eddie's eyes lingered on his acquaintance, taking in the lines etched into his face like a map of time. Despite the signs of age, he still looked strikingly handsome, with broad shoulders and a sturdy frame that spoke of years of hard work. His hair, once a wild mop, was now tamed into a close-cropped salt-and-pepper buzz cut. Eddie couldn't help but admire how his friend had aged with dignity and grace, and he felt a twinge of envy at his own mortality.

“One minute, we're in the upside-down fighting off those… those creatures,” Eddie looks to your dad, “and the next…” Eddie waved his hands above his head before flinching from the pain of the bat bites. “I was here!”

“I don’t understand,” Robin said.

“You think I do?!” He looked at her.

“Woah, guys, let’s just calm down,” Steve tried to defuse the room.

“Calm down? I just learned everyone left me for dead.” Eddie’s voice hitched.

God, you had a lot of questions.

“Come on, man, we couldn’t go back without another one of us dying. You stopped breathing in my arms! I swore you had died. I-I-I,” Dustin stammered.

You had never seen your father so distraught.

“Fuck, come here, man” Eddie reached out to hug his friend.

It had been mere hours to Eddie, but for his friends, it had been years of mourning and grieving, the acceptance that Eddie Munson was gone from the world.

“What are you guys talking about?” You ask, breaking the moment.

“Not now, honey,” your dad spoke, wiping a stray tear.

“Yes, now!” You screamed. “What are you all talking about? Leaving him for dead? Fighting off creatures? Bats? I saw his wounds! A bat did not make that so. What. happened. in. 1986? And do not tell me an earthquake…”

After a long explanation, you still could not understand what the most important people in your life had been keeping from you for twenty-eight years.

“So that brings us to now…” Dustin looked at Eddie. “Tell us exactly what you remember.”

“I was with you,” he said, pointing to your dad. “And the bats got me; I passed out, I guess because I didn’t remember anything, and when I woke up, I was in the trailer park, but it wasn’t the trailer park anymore… I was here.”

“There must be an explanation… do you think a gate is open now?” Steve spoke.

“Not possible; that was closed years ago.”

“Wait, so what happened to Vecna?” Eddie asked.

“El dealt with him; he’s long gone.”

“Wait… Aunt Jane?” You clarified.

“Yes,” the group confirmed.

You still cannot believe what the fuck was going on? How everyone seemed so casual about the topic of supernatural occurrences happening in the eighties.

“I think I need to lie down…” you excuse yourself from the conversation.

This was too much, too overwhelming. How were you to believe all of this? The evidence was right in front of you… Eddie had time-travelled, and your family confirmed that.

“Birdie honey, I’m sorry; I never wanted you to learn about all the shit we went through.” Your father pulled you in for a hug before you got too far.

You needed a second to collect your thoughts, so you went to your living room to lay on your couch.

You replay the details of what just sprung on you. A man with supernatural powers wanted to take over the town of Hawkins, Indiana, and your aunt, who also has supernatural powers, defeated him. Your dad and his friends, your aunts and uncles, helped. Your super nerdy, uncool father helped save the world. And Eddie, their dead friend, was now alive; somehow time travelled unknowingly and is sitting in your kitchen…

You’re unsure how much time has passed, but you feel the couch dip by your feet.

“Hey,” a deep voice you’ve now recognized as Eddie filled the empty room.

“Hey,” you open your eyes and face him.

“I uh… I just wanted to thank you for everything. You’re being super cool about all of this, about not calling the police on me, calling Dustin- uh, your Dad-that’s so fucking weird to say- I’m glad it was your home I broke into.” He fiddled with the hem of the borrowed shirt you lent him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m being cool. Honestly, I’m freaking out, but you’re welcome.” You half-heartedly smile.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m just as freaked out about this whole mess as you are… in the same boat and all, I guess.”

You hum with acceptance.

When you finally came around and decided to get off the couch, Eddie had already returned to the group's elders, and you walked in on their conversation.

“Oh, god! Wayne?! Is he? Where?” Eddie couldn’t believe this was the first time he thought of his uncle’s whereabouts.

“I’m so sorry, Ed.” Dustin couldn’t look him in the eye as he spoke.

“He’s… what happened?” His voice shook.

“We would visit from time to time over the years; he found a wife, he never stopped talking about you, he loved you.” Robin smiled as tears welled.

“The uh… the smoking caught up to him. Lung cancer. He was diagnosed about ten years ago. He fought it for a long time but passed in 2019.” you hear your dad sigh. “…but even if he were still alive, Eddie, you’d sure give him a heart attack if he saw you,” Dustin chides

“No… yea... No, I guess he would be almost ninety-four now…” Eddie sniffles, trying to hide his glossy eyes.

Not even five hours into living in the future, and it sucked immensely; who knows if he would get to go back home to his time. you felt for him your heart yearned to hug him and tell him it was all going to be okay, but you just met the guy.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.” Your dad touched his shoulder, and your mom looked at him sorrowfully. Like you, she had never met the man your dad idolized.

As a kid, you were told stories of the great Eddie the Banished, and you worshiped what your father told you about him. But now, seeing the real man in the flesh, wounded, scared, and confused, humanized him. You felt so sorry for him; you wanted to do all you could to help him.

“Ed, I think we should take you to a hospital,” Steve spoke, breaking the tension.

“How? I don’t exist. I can’t pay for anything.”

“We have insurance and money; we can pay for it,” Steve rebutted.

“What if someone recognized me?”

“What if we gave you a makeover?” You suggested.

“Absolutely not.”

“My daughter is right, Eddie; you stick out like a soar thumb.”

“What do I need to change?” He asks hesitantly.

“The hair,” you nod.

“No."

"Not like all of it, but, you know... shorter" You cocked your head, amazing his features.

He was very handsome, and you were attracted to him more than you would care to admit. You should not feel like this toward your dad's friend. Technically, he was thirty years your senior, but you were older than him in the real world.

Eventually, you will accept your supernatural time-travelling weird-ass family secret, but for now, you need to focus on Eddie healing and looking like he was from this century.

You take to your phone for inspiration. Tapping away on the touch screen, Eddie is memorized by the new technology before him.

“Can you uh- show me that stuff?” He points to your phone in your hands.

“Yeah, of course,” you blush; Eddie's intense gaze on you didn’t go unnoticed by your overbearing father.

“Woah woah woah, no—nope,” Dustin spoke as he wedged between you and the time-travelling man.

“Dad!” You scold.

“What are you even talking about, man?”

“I know you, Eddie,” your father gave him a stern look.

“I had no idea what you’re talking about?” he shook his head. But he was lying. He thought you were hot; there was no denying that. It was weird that you were Dustin’s offspring, but did that matter to Eddie? No. He has experienced much weirder these past few days.

“Let’s focus people.” Steve snapped. “Makeover—than a hospital.”

After some internet sleuthing, you and Eddie decided on a haircut you both agreed on.

“You trust me?” You raise your brows.

“No, but I don’t really have a choice.” He looked at your overprotective father, hovering, not leaving the two of you unsupervised.

“Dad, there is not enough room in the bathroom for all of us. Can you leave?” You sass.

“No funny business,�� he points.

"No funny business? The girl has scissors to my head."

“Mooooooom,” you call for her to help.

This was ridiculous. You’re a grown woman who can make her own choices, and Eddie is injured; that’s probably the last thing on his mind… and he’s probably not even thinking about you like that. So what could possibly happen?

You turn to Eddie with a smile as your mom drags away your father.

As you work away chopping at his hair, rewinding, and re-watching the tutorial off TikTok, you are not paying attention to Eddie's reaction to cutting his hair. If you looked down, you would see a man in pure heaven, blissed out by your touch. To see Eddie's eyes close when your fingers run through his hair. Eddie hadn’t had someone touch his hair in years, not since he first started growing it out. Fully immersion making sure his hair is even, you also don’t notice that you’re standing between his legs and your tits are sat directly at Eddie’s eye level, bouncing around in your tank top, as your arms work above his head.

Eddie tried hard not to stare; that’s another reason why his eyes were closed, but here he was, basking in your touch while fighting with himself to keep his eyes from zeroing in on your chest. He felt overwhelmed by you in the best way possible, your delicate voice and gentle touch mixed with your sweet-smelling perfumes and hair products. It didn’t take much for Eddie to get wrapped up in you. You had been so kind to him; he was so scared this morning. He was scared of the pain of his injuries; he was alone and the fact that he was no longer in his proper time.

You made him feel comfortable and safe, but you also made him nervous because he is attracted to you. Once the fright wore off and the calm washed over him when you offered your shower and food, it was instant; how couldn’t he fall for your beauty?

“What about my face?” Eddie speaks, his eyes still baring into your chest.

“What about it?” As you step back, your eyes are drawn to the man beneath you. You can't help but admire the striking features that define his face. You trimmed his unruly, chocolate-brown hair, but it still falls in gentle waves that frame his face beautifully. The freckles that dot his cheeks and nose add a touch of playfulness to his otherwise serious expression. But it's his eyes. Those are what captivate you the most. Thick, dark lashes frame deep, earthy-toned irises that seem to hold a whole other world. You can't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight of him.

“Should I shave?” She cocks his head, a few wet tendrils fall on his forehead, and you can’t help but admire his beauty. His scratched face bore a five-o-clock shadow; the circles under his eyes only darkened as the hours passed. However, it only made his deep brown orbs that much more compelling.

“No,” you smile. “I like the scruff.”

You step back again to admire your work, and Eddie’s eyes awkwardly try to look everywhere but you.

“Okay, I think we are good,” you smile as you run your fingers through his curls again with a bit more holding mousse.

Eddie holds back a whimper when your fingers are no longer in contact with his scalp, but he swallows it and stands up off the chair to look in the mirror.

He smirks at the soft mullet look you’ve given him. It’s still a nod to the eighties but more modern. It’s long still, but he reluctantly doesn’t hate it.

“I don’t have anything to tip you with,” he awkwardly giggles.

“That’s okay. You can thank me later.”

“SHIT”

“What? What's wrong?” Eddie whipped his head around. He hated hospitals.

“It’s Andy.”

“As in Jason’s friend Andy? As in, Andy that tried killing me, Andy?”

“Yea, he’s a doctor now.”

“Fuck” Eddie whispered under his breath.

“Ok, new plan. You’re my nephew, and your name is Jeremy.” Dustin removed his glasses and put them on Eddie as an extra disguise.

“Jeremy?”

“Jeremy.”

“Dude no, that—“

“How can I help you, gentleman, this afternoon?” Andy. Dr. Andy pushed aside the curtain.

“He was out hiking and was attacked by a… a….” Dustin stumbled.

“Bobcat,” Eddie finished.

“A bobcat in Hawkins?” Dr. Andy raised a brow in question.

“I was up north. I patched it up, but I thought it should be looked at.” Eddie cleared his throat.

“OK, let’s take a look. Where is the injury.” He puts down his tablet and watches how Eddie lifts up his shirt, revealing the amateur job you’ve done.

“It’s also on my leg, but it’s uh, this is the worst of it.” he clears his throat, wincing as Andy peels back the medical tape.

He lets out a whistle as he examines Eddie’s torso.

“A bobcat you say?”

Eddie nods his head silently.

“Okay, it looks like it’s been cleaned pretty well. You did a good job, but I’ll have to suture some of the gashes that are still bleeding. Andy looks at Eddie and really looks at him this time.

“Do I? What did you say your name is?”

“Jeremy Potter, my nephew! On my wife’s side.” Dustin interrupted.

Eddie gave him a look to cool it. He was so jumpy it would be suspicious.

“Huh. Ok. Let’s get you all fixed.”

A half-hour later, Eddie and your dad stroll out of the examination room with some antiseptic creams and low-grade painkillers.

“So, uh, it’s getting late; should we grab dinner and go back to Birdie’s?” your dad says.

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.” Eddie can hear his stomach growl again.

After picking up the food, Eddie and your dad finally arrived at your place, almost five hours later. You had spent the entire time waiting at home, feeling anxious and restless. As you waited, you couldn't help but imagine Eddie being tended to by a cute nurse. You pictured her doting on him, taking care of him in ways you never could. The thought of him falling for her made your heart ache with jealousy. Despite your best efforts to push away these feelings, you couldn't help but imagine him walking away from you, leaving you behind.

You didn't understand why these feelings were happening. You’d known him for less than twenty-four hours, and the urge to protect and care for him was so strong. You were already starting to miss him and worry about him.

Your mom kept you company, as she felt it wasn’t good for either of you to be alone. The others had to leave, but your mom stayed, and you discussed more of what happened before you were conceived. She knew exactly how you felt, overwhelmed and crazy. It took a while for her to come to terms with what your father described to her all those years ago, but she loved him too much not to believe him, especially when she saw what Jane could do.

A sense of relief washed over you as your dad and Eddie returned from the hospital. They were okay; his injuries weren’t bad, and he could return to you.

“Could I stay with, uh, with you guys? Eddie asks your folks, and you set the table, and your stomach drops.

“Shit, man, we are renovating right now; we don’t have space.”

“You can stay here,” you quickly offered. Your whole guest room hadn’t been used in months.

“Are you sure? I don’t—you have already done so much for me.” He blushes.

“Please? I insist.”

You couldn’t sleep, and he wasn’t going out on the street.

“You raised a good one, Dusty Bun,” Eddie teased.

“Dusty Bun?” You giggle.

“Oh yes your dad had this imaginary girlfriend, Suzy, and—“

“She was real!” Your dad boomed back.

And the three of you laughed.

The house fell silent when your parents left. After saying your goodbyes, you and Eddie stood awkwardly by the door until you offered to show him the room in which he would be staying.

“Sorry if it’s a little feminine for your taste, but the mattress is really comfortable; it’s memory foam,” you smiled.

“Memory foam?” He questioned.

“You sink into it and feel like you’re on a cloud, trust me. Give it a go,” you gesture to the bed for him to sit on.

You watch as Eddie takes a few steps, and she’s his body to sit on the edge; when his bum hits the comforter, his eyes widen, and he falls back and lets out a moan.

“Holy shit, I’m never leaving” he splays himself over the mattress, and you can’t help but giggle.

“I mean-“

“It’s okay, Eddie, I understand. You can stay as long as you need to.”

Who knows how much time he will be here? How would you even begin to figure out how he gets back home? And can he even get back home? Would he have to go through the upside-down again? Or could he just appear back in the real Hawkins? So many unsolved answers were running through everyone’s minds.

Did Eddie even want to go back? Probably. That would be a bummer, you like him, and not only because he is your father’s good friend….

The longer you pondered, the more awkward the silence became.

“Hey, you want a drink?” you offer, not really thinking; you just need something to ease the tension.“Wait, are you old enough to have a drink?” you eye him.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I can take a drink.”

“How old did you say you were again?”

“I’ll be twenty-two this….year? Well, uh, you know.”

You both walk back to your kitchen and grab the bottle of white wine from the fridge.

“This is all I have, I hope it’s okay?”

“I’ll take anything,” he smirks, and your stomach does a summersault.

You ignore the deep inner attraction and walk over to the cabinet where you keep your glassware.

“So, uh— you gonna call me Uncle Eddie?”

You turn to see that smirk still plastered on his face.

“Absolutely not,” you deadpan.

“Why not?”

Because that would mean I want to fuck my uncle…

“I’m older than you.” You uncork the bottle and pour two big glasses each.

“Not technically."

"Technically, you'd be old and wrinkly," you giggle.

"I would still be a badass, though."

"A badass?"

"Oh yeah, everyone is scared of me." He looked a bit sad.

Your dad did tell you how the town was scared of devil worship and shit but you never took it seriously.

“Not scary to me,” you smile.

“Oh yeah, you could handle all of this?”

“I’m a grown woman; you couldn’t handle me.” You pass him the wine glass.

“I’m technically older than you,” he reminds you again.

“You’re lucky you’re the legal drinking age.”

“Still legal.” His tone implies something more.

“I could run laps around you.”

“You think so?”

“I know sweetheart”

The name made your stomach flip, and you took a big sip of wine before you moved to sit on your sofa in the living room.

Eddie followed and sat on the other side facing you.

“So tell me more about the future.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Shit, everything.” He took a long sip and hummed at the flavour.

“What’s Ozzy doing?”

“Like Ozzy Osborn?”

“Yea.”

“He’s fine; he used to have a reality show," you giggled.

“About what?”

“Him and his family.”

“Really? And people like that?”

“Oh, yeah, it was huge. I never watched it, but it was pretty mainstream…. You like metal?”

“Like is an understatement. Had my own band and everything.”

“Oh yea dad mentioned that Uncle Jeff was in a band… coffin something?”

Eddie bloomed with pride that you knew of his band. His face turned flush but he could blame that on the alcohol.

“Corroded Coffin.”

“Yes that’s it!” You snapped your fingers. “You cover anything I would know?”

“Uh maybe? Metallica, Dio, Ozzy… obviously.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some stuff from those bands. Uh, here, let me put on something. “ you smile and grab your phone.

Eddie watches in awe as your fingers click against the glowing rectangle in your hands.

“That thing can play music?”

You nod your head and smile.

“Anything it can’t do?”

“Not really” you shake your head.

You find an 80’a playlist, thinking it will make him feel at home and he was in awe.

“Can you show me more about that?” He points to your smartphone.

“Um- yea sure.” You scoot closer to him so he can see and he looks down at the glowing screen.

As you show him the different features, he’s enamoured with Spotify. He loves how you can have any music at your fingertips.

Google was also another thing he had way too much fun with, asking anything and everything he could think of. He googled Metallica and was shocked when they were nominated for a Grammy only a few years later.

Online shopping was also a whirlwind to explain. Amazon was a trip for him; he couldn't believe in one-day shipping for anything you could desire.

“You mentioned you liked fantasy stuff, what do you like?” You snuggled into him closer so you could see the phone in Eddie’s grip.

“Lord of the rings, D&D, Excalibur— "

"Oh my god!" you jump, and so does Eddie.

"What?!"

You don't answer but scurry to find your TV remote.

"Woah," Eddie mumbles as he sees the crisp picture on the flat screen, which lights up the dark room.

You hold down the mic button on the remote and speak into it. Sure, you could have typed it out, but showing Eddie futuristic things was fun.

"Lord of the Rings"

You turn and watch Eddie to see his eyes light up when the trilogy of movies appears on screen.

"No way!"

"There are also three movies of The Hobbit," you giggle.

It was like watching a kid on Christmas morning. The pure joy on Eddie's face said this was the best news he’d ever heard. And to his defence, this was the best thing that’d happened to him in about three weeks.

“Well, I know what I’m doing tomorrow. I need to be all in and clear-minded when I get to experience these.”

“We can make a day of it.” You smile, not even thinking about your job or any responsibilities. Sure, you worked from home, but you were not getting any work with Eddie in the house.

“Really?” He smiles.

“Yea.” You smile back.

The look in his eyes was too intense. You had to break eye contact and excuse yourself to get the bottle.

You don’t even ask Eddie if he wants more, but you empty the contents into his glass and then return to get the second bottle in the back of your fridge.

The conversation held its own as you explained to Eddie about Tesla, social media, legalization of weed in some states, LGBTQ+ rights, 9/11, Obama, Trump, and the pandemic. You didn't want to overwhelm him with too much at first, but you settled on important things.

“Is sex still the same in the future?” He asked casually. And you almost choke.

“Explain to me how it is in the eighties, and I’ll let you know,” you giggle. The alcohol was definitely taking effect.

“W-w-well I….shit” he didn’t think you’d bite.

“Come on, Eddie. We are both adults.” You slide your foot across the couch and nudge his leg playfully.

“Never mind, forget it.” He blushes.

“No, come on, what do you want to know?”

“Is porn still a thing?” He meekly asks, and you can’t help but burst out laughing.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I promise I’m not laughing at you; it’s just like the biggest industry on the internet.”

“Yea?”

“Oh yea. Anything you are into it’s there. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’ve paid for porn? Sweetheart, I didn’t take you as that kinda girl,” He accuses.

“Hell no, I don’t pay for it.” You laugh.

“Then how do you know what’s out there?” He retorted.

“Because it’s free.” You take your last sip of wine for the night.

Eddie stares at you, mouth agape.

“I’m a single woman, and I have needs.” You defend.

Eddie was stunned. Did he just hear that you touch yourself to free porn on that tiny electric box in your hands? Yes, he did.

“Uh— uh, is there any chance I could brow that phone thing you got there?"

"Absolutely not!" you laughed.

"Why not?! I’m a curious man! I need to learn I have needs too."

"Good night, Eddie," you laugh as you get up off the couch.

“Birdie, come on, please!”

“Goodnight, Eddie.” You shake your head and leave Eddie alone to get ready for bed.

The next morning you were tired, to say the least. You’d gone to bed late and decided to call in sick for the rest of the week.

You woke up around 10:00 a.m. to find the guest room door ajar, and Eddie was still sound asleep. He probably needed a good night's sleep after everything he’d been through, so you made your way downstairs to make breakfast for the both of you.

As the smells wafted through the house, they made their way to the guest room and woke up Eddie instantly. He woke up with a jerk, having forgotten where he was for a split second, but he calmed down once he remembered you.

“He pulled on the same sweatpants and shirt you gave him yesterday and stumbled down to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleepy head,” you smiled over your shoulder.

Eddie wasn’t ready to see you in only a small tank top and tiny sleep shorts.

“M-morning” he stuttered as he took in the view of you.

“I’m making us some food; hope you like bacon and eggs”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“How about coffee?” You walk over to your specialty coffee bar. You loved making gourmet coffees with the syrups and milks.

“Black, please.” he walked over to see the different options.

“That’s so boring! Let me make you something special.”

He gave another funny look, but you insisted.

So you ignore his request, brew your cinnamon coffee pod, add dulce de leche-flavoured syrup and a splash of cream, and slide it over to him.

He looks at you suspiciously, sniffs it and gives a curious look.

“Oh my god, it’s delicious. Just taste it.”

“I’m not sure what freaky futuristic shit you put in this,” he teases.

You squint your eyes but then give a smirk of satisfaction as his eyes bulge as he takes the first sip.

“Shit, that’s good,” he mumbles before taking another sip.

“Told ya” you turn back to the food of the stove to start platting it.

It was fairly quiet as the both of you ate. Eddie was still scarfing down the food like he’d never eaten a home-cooked meal, which made you more curious about the events he’d been through.

“I was thinking we could go shopping today. Can we get you some clothes and maybe a phone?” You tease.

“A phone?” He perked up.

“Maybe, I’m not sure how long you’re staying, and if you wanted to keep in contact with everyone, it’s the easiest way.” You shrugged.

“O-o-okay. But then we can come back here and watch Lord of the Rings?"

"Of course." You smile

Your dad and Uncle Steve met you at the Starcourt Mall around noon. You never thought you would be shopping with these two and their dead friend, but here you were.

After a very long time in Target, and a fashion show, Eddie got a full wardrobe.

“Can we get Eddie a phone?” You ask as you hrough the familiar halls.

“Really? Do you think he needs one? We don’t know how long he’ll be here,

“We don’t even know if we can get him back home”

“I think I’d like one… if it isn’t too much money.” Eddie asked.

“Don’t worry about that Ed’s” your dad turns.

So you and Eddie walk over to the mobile booth and get him a basic smartphone so he can interact with everyone.

Eddie was still enamoured by the touch screen technology, especially in your car. You had to tell him off for messing with the music but he couldn’t help himself.

You let him know you’d help him with his playlist once you got home.

When you and Eddie get home, you teach him how to use it. After the painstaking lesson, he seems to eventually get used to the new technology. He seemed like a natural after an hour or so then the two of you settled down to watch the movie.

You had the whole set up with blankets, pillows, snacks, and drinks.

It turns out Eddie has a knack for new technology because that night, it didn’t take much for him to find porn. He was overwhelmed by the thousands of options. He clicked the first few that were featured and came within seconds of watching, but Eddie was determined and unbelievably horny. After the first time, he wasn’t satisfied, so he continued to look for videos. His curiosity took over with all of the categories, but he found himself going back to the ones where the girl resembled you.

As you’re laying in bed trying to fall asleep, you hear him. Did he not release how loud he was? How incredibly hot he sounded as his grunts travelled through your walls. You couldn’t get the image of Eddie touching himself out of your head, no matter how hard you tried to block him out. You couldn’t even get your headphones because they were in your purse downstairs, and you didn’t want to get up and alarm Eddie.

So you lay there on your phone, scrolling mindlessly until you see Eddie’s new contact pop up. You click on it instantly. It’s a voice note.

Do you dare? You know what he’s doing down the hallway. Even if it is muffled, it’s obvious. You can hear the moans of a girl getting fucked on the screen.

The little devil on your shoulder wins as you find yourself pressing play.

‘Uuuuuuuh fuck-yessssss, just like that! Unnnnnngh mmmmmmmm so hot, fuck-“

His voice was deep and gasping with need.

You didn’t even know you could record a voice note while watching a video, but who knows?

“Such a good girl. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm”

And it cuts off. You rewind it again to listen to him say goodgirl, and your stomach flip flops, and you can feel something burning in your core.

It’s been so long since you’ve been with anyone. You can’t help but reach for your vibrator hidden in your nightstand.

You replay the voice note and turn it on. You imagined Eddie’s body on yours, how he would touch your skin, kiss your collarbone, eat you out, praise you; God, his voice was so hot, you were quivering with pleasure. Before you knew it, you had been cumming within minutes.

The next morning, you, too, were oblivious to Eddie also hearing your needy breaths.

He had no idea that he was the reason behind them, but when he heard the toy's low humming and your moans, he had a slight hunch that you were also doing the same as him.

“Sleep well?” you ask, walking into the kitchen to see Eddie trying to figure out the coffee maker. He turns to see you in nothing but a large T-shirt, fuzzy socks, and bunny slippers, and he never thought he could feel more butterflies looking at someone. It’s fast, it’s strong, and it’s scaring Eddie. His attraction to you is nothing like he’s experienced before.

“Uh yeah— you?" you think back to how you fell asleep, blissed out.

“Yeah,” he smirks, also thinking back to how he made himself cum three times last night, a new personal best.

You think for a minute that you should tell him about the voice note, but you decide against it. It would only be an uncomfortable situation. So you leave it and pretend like nothing happened.

You drove both you and Eddie to Uncle Steve's house. It was a strange and surreal experience watching Steve and Eddie interact, as if no time had passed since they last saw each other. It was like they had picked up their friendship right where they left off.

As you and Eddie caught up with Steve, you learned about what happened after the incident. There was a funeral, which was attended by few people, but the ones who mattered were there. You discovered that the kids took turns visiting the empty grave, cleaning up the graffiti left by the townspeople. Eventually, the graffiti stopped and people ceased to care. However, Hellfire and the rest of the gang still visited the grave and left flowers from time to time.

Steve got married, but the marriage didn't last long. You remembered how much you disliked her when they visited you as a kid. Steve never got over Nancy; he still loved her, even though she chose someone else. He hoped they would find their way back to each other someday, but she had moved overseas for investigative journalism.

Eddie wasn't surprised to hear that Uncle Mike and Aunt Jane got married. Although he had never met her, he remembered how fondly Mike had spoken about her. Mike loved her with all his heart.

You also learned that Will, the other boy Eddie never met, became a big animator working in LA. Steve shared that Lucas was the basketball coach at Hawkins High, and Erica had become a CEO.

Eddie asked about Max, and Steve replied that she was okay now. It took a while, but after Vecna had gotten to her, she was in a coma for months. Her vision never came back, and it took a long time for her to recover. Steve half-heartedly smiled. Eddie cringed and asked if Vecna had any more victims, and Steve replied that Carver hadn't made it. There was a huge earthquake that came from the Upside Down that killed about ten people they didn't know. Talking about it was clearly bothering Steve, but Eddie needed to know.

"Can you show us some pictures?" You asked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, sure, kid." He smiles and leads you to where he kept the photo albums. After seeing all the memories Eddie missed out on, he felt a feeling he's never felt before.

"You okay?" You ask, noticing how quiet he was on the drive back.

"Yeah? No? I don’t know. I’m just— I missed out so much! I was supposed to be there with them! I'm starting to regret my choice of staying back… I. Shit that sounds awful, but I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be back there, in 1986, with my friends and my uncle! And now I'm stuck here and don't even know if I'll be able to go back home?!"

You don't know why you're hurt by Eddie's words, but you are. This wasn't about you, but the thought of Eddie not wanting to be here made you feel like he doesn't want to be with you.

"Don't say that, Eddie! What you did was brave; it was dignified! You chose to help save your friends. Sure, it was a little stupid because you died. Or didn't die? I don't know… but I always saw you as this hero my dad would talk about! You're honourable and kind and so selfless. And somehow, it led you to here…"

To me.

"Thanks, Sweetheart."

The nickname made your heart flutter. It's not the first time he called you that, but each time it doesn't go unnoticed.

"I'm scared," Eddie finally admits as you pull into the driveway.

"I know," you whisper.

You would be terrified if it were you in Eddie's position. You don't know how he's held it together this long. You weren't lying when you told him he was brave. He's the bravest person you've ever met."

Several weeks have passed, and you and Eddie have settled into a comfortable routine. You’re back at work, and Eddie has accepted that he is stuck in the future.

Your family had searched for anything and everything to research and look into anything that could be used as a portal to the upside-down or time travel. But the gate was permanently closed and had been for over thirty years, and there was no way they would risk opening it back up just of the possibility of Eddie getting attacked again, so maybe he could get back. The possibility of a gate on the other side was extremely slim because it had been sealed.

Eddie would spend hours sitting by the window, gazing at the vast expansion of houses before him. It was hard to believe that the once-desolate trailer park he called home was now this fancy. The years he had spent away from it had brought about so many changes that he struggled to come to terms with. He often found himself pining for a life that should have been, but he knew deep down that he had to accept the way things were now.

Despite feeling emotionally numb, he took solace in the fact that he was still here, breathing and healing. Each day brought with it small signs of progress, and he clung to them with all his might. He knew that he still had a long road ahead of him, but for now, he was content to sit by the window and watch the world go by, slowly but surely regaining his strength and sense of purpose. he was dead to the world but here he was, living, breathing... healing.

His physical wounds were healed; all that was left was a nasty scar. His mental wounds, however, were still ever-present in his mind. He would have night terrors; he couldn’t hide them. You would hear him screaming in the night, sometimes multiple times, if he was able to fall back asleep.

He tried talking about it with Dustin and the others, but nothing seemed to help. He was exhausted and mentally drained by the fact that nothing was the same; nothing was familiar. Sure, his friends were there for him, but they had changed; they weren’t the same people as he remembered them.

Eddie had another awful dream tonight if you could call it that. It was more of a memory; the exact events of that fatal night replayed as a loop inside his brain.

It always starts when he's with Dustin in the boarded-up trailer. Then, he watches as Dustin crawls through the gate. Eddie waits, watching him for a split second before running back out. He no longer wants to be a coward or a runner. He's surrounded by unearthly creatures, fighting for his life, but there are too many. He can't escape. All he feels is the pain, terror, and then nothing. It's all darkness, quiet, and loneliness. The worst part is the solitude, the feeling of being so alone. He longs for the day when he no longer feels that way.

Sometimes, when he's with you, he forgets that he's not supposed to be here. But as soon as he returns to this room, which is not his, it all comes crashing back down.

As the night wore on, Eddie's screams pierced through the stillness of the house. You had been lying awake for hours, listening to his panicked cries, feeling helpless and powerless to ease his distress. You can no longer take it; you can't listen to him suffer. You push the covers off, not caring that you’re only in a big T-shirt, and walk over to Eddie’s room and timidly knock on the door.

You slowly push it open as he never latches it fully shut. You can see him in the dim light of the moon fling the room and the light from the hallway. He’s a bit sweaty, trashing under the covers. He’s still sleeping, if that’s what you can call it. You can’t imagine the image playing in his mind as you slowly make your way over to wake him, to not get knocked out in the process. The room was dimly lit, and Eddie's ragged breathing was the only sound as he tried to calm himself down.

Eddie hadn't noticed you walked over to him, he was still sleeping. You sat beside him, gently stroking his hair, and whispered comforting words in his ear. Slowly but surely, his screams subsided, and his breathing became more regular.

“Eddie,” you gently whisper, brushing your hand across his bare back. His skin is sticky with sweat but he’s cold.

“Eddie,” you repeated, slowly circling your hand around his back in comfort.

He jerks awake with a gasp, and unexpectedly, he grabs you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“I’m so scared, Birdie.” You can feel him trembling in your arms as your body slowly relaxes under his touch.

“Shhhh. I’ve got you; I’m here.” You hold him as silent tears fall down his cheeks, staining your shirt. You rock him slowly to help calm him down. You lay beside him in silence, there for him, holding him.

“I don’t- can you-“ he takes a deep breath. You stay quiet to let him gather his thoughts.

“Can.... you stay with me tonight?”

Your heart melts as you hear the words trickle from his lips. He’s so delicate. He needs to be cared for, and you’re more than willing.

“Come.” You take his hand and lead him to your room. You pull him into your still-warm bed, snuggling under the covers together.

This isn't the closest youve been to Eddie. You've managed to fall asleep on his shoulder while watching the lord of the Rings movies a time or two. But this felt different. It was more intimate, and you weren't sure how to go about it.

You let Eddie take the lead as you lay beside him. You feel his fingers intertwine with yours under the duvet, and you squeeze his hand before opening up your arms so you can hold him. He lays his head on your chest. The tears have subsided for now, and you kiss the top of his head without thinking. You let your lips linger on his head before he looked up at you. His pleading eyes long for any source of comfort, especially from you.

You have been there for him, even when you should have called the cops after he broke into your house. But you were selfless; you let him find shelter, a shower, clean clothes, and food, all before you knew who he was. He was so frightened, but you showed him compassion. He started falling for you then, even if he didn't really see it a month ago; he sees it now.

You're so kind and fun; you get him to the fullest degree, even if you're not from the same time. Maybe Eddie has Dustin to thank, but he is falling for you. At this moment, in another time of need, you're with him in the middle of the night, comforting him even if you have work tomorrow. Eddie sees that didn't matter to you. You're here for him. So can he really blame himself when he tilts his head further to seek more comfort from you in a gentle kiss? No, he can't. He's been longing for this, pining and itching to feel his lips on yours.

It takes you by surprise; his lips are so soft and delicate. It's been so long since you've kissed someone you've developed feelings for.

Eddie is desperate for more. He wants this so badly; he moans as he feels you start to kiss him back, but that snaps you out of it.

“We shouldn’t. This is wrong; you’re not in the right headspace.” You pull back, looking into his pleading eyes.

“Please, I want to forget. I don't know how else to forget," he begs you. He needs this to not be remembered, even if it is temporary. Eddie's lips hover centimetres from yours. His hot breath fans over your skin as you try to think of what to do.

You want this, he wants this, so what is stopping you?

"Birdie, if you don't want to, I'll go back to my room; I can move in with Steve or Robin or someone. I'm sorry; I overstepped. I just-"

You cut him off with another kiss, but you're not overthinking it this time. You need him to feel how you're feeling, how everything is only right when you're with him.

Before Eddie came into your life, you felt like everything was average and unremarkable. But since he's entered your world, he's brought a sense of excitement and adventure that you never knew existed. Even though his presence can be chaotic sometimes, you find yourself drawn to him and the thrill he brings. You feel like he's exactly what you've been missing and never want to return to your old, mundane life.

"I need this too, Eddie," you mumble into his lips, and Eddie sighs; his heart skips a beat.

You feel his weight shift as Eddie leans into the kiss. He leans you back into your pillows, taking the lead. You feel how his hands trace up your arms so he can cup your face.

He wants to feel you, breathe you, and be with you. No one has ever shown Eddie so much selflessness as you have. You deserve the world in Eddie’s eyes, and he wants to let you know how grateful he is to have you.

But he also wanted to forget it all—all the terrible things he’d witnessed and gone through. He just wanted it to go away for a while. So, for now, while he’s with you, his anxieties and fears are slowly being plucked away with each moan, gasp, and timid graze.

Eddie can feel your heat through the thin pyjama pants adorning his waist. You’re only in a shirt and your panties, but Eddie needs to see more of you.

“Can I take this off?” He mumbles in between desperate kisses as his fingers grip the hem of your sleep shirt.

You don’t let him ask again before you tug it over your head. You didn’t think his doe eyes could get any bigger, but here he was, proving you wrong, and it only made him look more endearing.

You reach out to Eddie as he sits there like a statue, staring at you. You take his hand, bring it up to your chest, and place his large hand on your breast.

“Hollyshit,�� he whispered, realizing he was touching his best friend’s daughter. But that thought quickly passed as you leaned up in to kiss him; it's sloppy, it’s desperate, it’s wet, it’s so hot Eddie thinks he might just bust in his pants here and now when you ground your hips into his already painfully hardened cock.

You can’t help but moan when your pussy brushes up against him. You can feel how turned on he is, and it only makes you want him more.

“More,” you moan as Eddie’s hip grinds into yours.

Eddie didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers find the twists of your underwear, and he lets his fingers slip down to your slit. You widen your legs so you can feel it all. His long fingers trace up and down your slit, collecting your slick before he impressively finds your clit on the first go.

His lips travel down lower so they can latch on your neck.

“Oh, Eddie,” you breathe as the combination of his fingers and lips sends a shockwave of pleasure through your body. His mouth leaves a mark on your delicate skin.

“Good girl, say my name.”

Another wave of pleasure travels through you these words.

“Eddie,” you moan. You don’t even recognize your own voice. It’s so desperate and needy. If you weren’t so desperate, you’d be embarrassed.

“Fuck, that’s so hot” he slips a single digit up into you to test the waters. “Baby, you’re soaked. All for me?” He groans with need.

“Yes, Eddie, I want you so bad; I need you so bad,” You squirm under his touch. He pumps his thick, long finger in and out before adding another one.

His head travels lower, and his mouth latches onto your perked nipple. His warm, wet mouth feels so nice, but that quickly is gone as he nips at your bud, and you let out an unexpected yelp.

“Fucking love your noises” Eddie moved onto your other nipple doing the same thing, only this time you’re prepared, and you arched up into his touch. His fingers are still working on you, and you’re so close.

“Don’t stop” You’re so close, and he knows it; he can feel your pussy clamping down on him with each pump of his hand.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Pleasing you has been the only thing that has made him feel this good in a while.

All his worries and anxieties were by the wayside. His only purpose was to please you, to touch you, to please you.

You could feel it coming; you were so close only a few more seconds, and you would be flooded with ecstasy.

A roar of Eddie’s name rips from your lungs as you soak his fingers. Eddie never thought he would be so lucky to experience this with you, but here he was, watching as your body shook with pleasure all before of him.

“Fuuuuuck, you did so well for me, baby.” You don’t even notice when he sticks his fingers in his mouth to taste you. You’re too blissed out.

You didn’t think your pussy would need anything more, but hearing his praises only makes you quiver with need. You need his cock; you need to make him feel good. This was about him forgetting; this was about the both of you making one another feel good. You needed to take care of him.

Once you caught your breath, you shuffled so he was under you.

Eddie watched as you discarded your soaked panties and were fully naked for him. Kneeling at his waist, drooling over what was under his tented pants.

“Can I?“ you bat your lashes innocently as you reach for the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck, you have to ask, sweetheart; any time you want to, just do it.”

You giggle at his eagerness, but it’s cut off when you see just how pretty his cock is.

The head is so pink; it’s just screaming at you to put it in your mouth.

Your mouth waters as he grips his cock in his hand, guiding it to your mouth.

You stick out your wet tongue and the moonlight reflects off of it, it’s that wet.

Eddie can’t help but tap it a few times before you take his tip fully.

Eddie’s messy curls fall back as he lets his head hang, you looked up through your lashes to see his exposed neck and it only made you want to mark him as yours.

Your attention shifts when you feel his large hand run along your scalp, gently tugging at your roots. Your eyes roll back as his grip tightens, and you sink deeper.

His hard cock feels heavy in your mouth. His small whimpers make your pussy drip as you bob your head up and down his shaft. His taste and smell are overwhelming. All you want is to please him. To help him forget. Selfishly, you only want him to focus on you, and it’s working.

Eddie can’t believe he’s in your room, in your bed, watching you naked as you give him the best head of his life. He’s forgotten everything; he only knows you and how you’re making him feel. He’s feeling good. It's the first time in weeks he feels good, amazing even.

“Such a good girl, Birdie.” He tried so hard to not thrust his hips up into your mouth, but it’s so hard when he feels you take all the way.

You nuzzle your face into the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. It’s soft and smells of him; it’s overwhelmingly Eddie. You drool out of the sides of your mouth as you finally come back up for air. Replacing your mouth with your hand. Jacking him off as Eddie takes your mouth in his own once again.

“Need to be inside of you.” he pulls you up so you're straddling his lap.

You adjust quickly so you can sink slowly on his cock. I'm not even thinking about a condom; you’re on birth control anyway. You need him. He needs you. Simple.

You hold his shoulders for balance as you ease your way on his thick long cock. It burns slightly as he stretches you out, but you need it. You want it.

“Fuck you’re so big, Eddie” your head falls back as you sink to the bottom.

Eddie watches in awe as your body envelopes itself around him. You’re so tight and warm around him that he can’t help but grip your hips to help guide you up and down his cock.

Slowly you start to rise and fall on his cock. Both your mouths hang open as the pleasure courses through your veins. You slowly build up your place until you’re bouncing on his cock.

“Got, you’re so fucking hot,” Eddie pants.

He can’t help but take your breast in his mouth again. This had to be the hottest experience of his life. An ‘older’ girl from the future wanting him just as much as he wanted her? Fuck maybe this was heaven?

“Does that feel good, baby?” you coo. All you want is for him to feel as good as you do.

“Shit, yes, your pussy is so tight, fuck me. You’re so sexy.”

“You’re so big,” you moan.

You silence him with another kiss. You feel his tongue in your mouth immediately. He’s so skilled it makes you think how he can use it elsewhere….

“I’m so close, Birdie. Are you close?” He pulls back.

“Mmmmmmmmmm” you nod your head yes.

You need more, but your legs are burning and about to give out. Your pace falters, and Eddie can see you’re getting tired, so he steadies your hips and fucks himself up into you.

“Oh my god!!! Eddie!!!” You hold on to his shoulder to brace yourself. His cock hits your g spot with each powerful stroke; it feels so good you can’t focus on anything else but cuming all over him.

“That’s it, Birdie, come on my cock, good girl.”

“Holy shit,” you cry out.

“I’m going to come. Where do you want?”

“Inside!” The aftershock still taking over your senses.

You listen to Eddie’s grunts as he releases himself inside of you, it sounds so hot you didn’t think he could be any more attractive, but he was holding you down on his cock, not letting any of his cum leak out just yet.

You collapse down onto Eddie chest as your heavy breathes become synchronized.

“I think they nicknamed you the wrong woodland creature.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m going to call you Bunny instead of Birdie.”

Your brain is still foggy, and you’re unsure what he means.

“You’re like a bunny hopping all over my cock”

“Eddie!” You playfully slap his chest before you decide to go off of him.

“So, is sex really that much different from the eighties?” You giggle as you roll over to lie beside him.

“I think it might be better,” he says as he pulls you in for another hot kiss.

“You wanna go again?” You look at him, surprised.

“What? Can’t keep up with a younger man?”

“It’s four in the morning, Eddie. I have to work,” you moan. Your heart wants it, but your head says otherwise.

“Shit! I’m sorry”

“Don’t be. Tomorrow, I’ll show you what I can do; that first round was nothing.” You giggle.

After Eddie helped you get cleaned up, the room was silent for a bit.

"Thank you for being there for me, Bridie." Eddie takes your hand and gently squeezes it.

"No need to thank me, Eddie, I'll always be there for you."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson imagine #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #modern eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson angst #Eddie Munson fluff

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demonic0angel · 5 months ago

Note

dearest author, tis I. I have a small request, which is for anger management to meet well...us? the two find a white space and meet us, at a loom weaving their story.

no need to accept, it is a silly prompt

(*pat pat*)

When Jason opened his eyes, he was not where he expected. He expected a dingy apartment, a bed that was littered with moth eaten holes, and a dark room that was empty of anyone but himself.

Instead, he found himself in a dark room that was covered in marble and quartz. It looked grand with high ceilings and columns. The only glow was a door that had only a crack open. And there was a person next to him, similarly disoriented and confused like him.

He stared at her, bewildered by her presence. She was gorgeous, with long red hair and a small frown on her face that made him feel like it was blasphemy for her to be unhappy. She blinked turquoise eyes at him and then looked him up and down.

Jason resisted a smile and let her look her fill, also drinking in the sight of her. She was quite a beauty, after all.

He opened his mouth to ask her name, but voices from beyond the door made them both freeze.

They looked at each other and then in unison, helped each other up and snuck up to the door, where they peeked inside.

Inside of the door was another room made of marble and stone, pristine and beautiful and lit only by a few candles. Two people were sitting around a loom. One person was spinning, while the other was holding the weaving that was being created.

“Tsk…” the person holding the fabric clicked their tongue. “You used ‘lead’ instead of ‘led’. Again.”

The person weaving stopped and then looked at the strings. Then they went, “Oops,” before laughing softly. They quickly fixed their mistake and then continued weaving, humming a soft song as they did so.

The threads produced glistened like gold, colored sea blue and muddy orange and blood red and electrifying green in a strange mix that oddly fit together beautifully. The other person held onto the growing fabric and carefully scanned it for further mistakes. The fabric created then began to form a picture.

… of him and the girl beside him.

Jason’s eyes widened and he turned, meeting the eyes of the woman beside him. She quickly looked away. Something strange stirred within Jason and he stamped it down as he focused on gaining information.

“Do you think this is long enough?” The person weaving asked. The other person, who studied the finished fabric, nodded.

“Looks good. Another Assistant Jazz AU?”

The girl beside him startled and Jason looked in her direction before observing the two in the room again.

“That’s right. It’s my favorite.”

The weaver smiled and with a snip, cut off the fabric. The fabric shimmered and then with a faint whistling noise, turned into smoke. Jason had a feeling it didn’t disappear or drift away. Instead, he felt like it had faded away into reality of some sort.

“Another story down. Many, many more to go.” The weaver turned to the other person. “Thank you for editing my works, as always.”

The other person bowed their head. “Of course. Are you going to make another?”

“Yep. And this time, it’ll be omegaverse.” They both laughed like it was some sort of inside joke and then the weaver paused.

They turned slowly. They gasped as they looked at the open door where Jason and the other girl realized they were going to be seen and jerked their heads back. It was still too late.

“Oh dear. It seems we have some… unexpected guests.”

Jason didn’t think. He grabbed the hand of the woman beside him and she held on just as tightly, but it was futile. Because when Jason woke up, he was alone, in a dark apartment with an empty bed and the faint sounds of honking and gunshots, as per usual within Gotham City.

…. Just what had he been dreaming about again?

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dp x dc crossover #ask #jazz fenton #jason todd #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jason x jazz #meditating cat #ty for the ask :3

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jamesunderwater · 5 months ago

Text

Coming of Age Era

rated G - 1.3k words - birthday fluff - written for @jilymicrofics January 30th prompt "narrative" (but then I went over 1k and also really only used the concept of a narrative 😁 @jilymicro-oops <3)

---

“What’s this?” Lily glanced between James and the card he’d just conspicuously dropped onto her Transfiguration essay.

He seemed to be…dancing, almost, the tips of his shoes tapping softly against the library’s stone floor as he hopped from one foot to the other. She noticed the absence of his fingers, usually fidgeting in one way or another, and realized he was holding both hands behind his back. “Just open it,” James told her, but Lily huffed in reply.

“I’m not falling for whatever little scheme—”

James rolled his head so far backwards Lily spontaneously thought of Nearly-Headless Nick. “Evans, please, when was the last time—?”

She sat up straighter in her chair. “Five weeks and three days.”

“What?” His shoulders fell and he’d stopped his footwork altogether.

“The last time you pulled one of your pranks. That’s what you were going to ask me, hm? Well, it’s been five weeks and three days, which isn’t nearly long enough to build any sort of confidence in your so-called ‘Coming of Age Era’ — which, by the way, I really don’t think Remus explained that genre to you well enough.”

James shoved something small into his pocket and folded his arms across his chest, his shoulder muscles stretching the fabric of his button down ever so slightly. “Five weeks is a century, Evans, and the whole point of a Coming of Age story is for the main character to…you know, falter here and there. If I don’t slip up then what am I even maturing out of?”

Lily stared at him blankly for a moment, lips fallen apart. “See,” she blinked and shook her head once, “this is what I mean about Remus having explained it wrong.”

“How?” James demanded, repositioning his stance as though to literally stand his ground and restating, “I’m in my Coming of Age Era — I’m…maturing, growing up, becoming—” He stopped himself short.

She lifted a brow at him. “What? A man?” Lily snorted at the thought, prompting a few nearby students to turn their way. “Right, Potter, that’s not a Coming of Age story.”

James rolled his hand in the air, prompting her to continue. “Enlighten me, then.”

The vague memory of her unfinished Transfiguration essay flitted across the back of Lily’s mind, but some things were more important — winning an argument with James Potter chief among them. “A Coming of Age story is about something that happens to the main character which forces them to grow up, sometimes before they should have had to, often in a way that is true for all people, yet still heartbreaking. It’s about the loss of innocence — something I’m not sure you ever had in the first place,” she added with a sideways glance. “And, sure, growth and maturity are a part of it, but it’s deeper than just…choosing not to play so many stupid pranks.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment. “Who says I’m not maturing in deeper ways than that?” he asked, holding her gaze with a sincerity Lily hadn’t expected.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth had gone dry. “Well—”

“Open the card, Evans.”

Lily looked down at the envelope, of which she’d forgotten the existence. Her first and last name were written across the front in a font that parodied calligraphy and still managed to retain key features of James’s usual penmanship — the lack of a dot above the lowercase I; the lowercase A written in such a rush it better resembled an O; the end of the S slashing backwards in a flourishing underline. Her face heated, realizing what it must be.

She glanced up at him just once as she tore the seal open and pulled out a sparkling card. On the front was a stunning image of the night sky when all the stars could be seen, magic making each one glint and twinkle, so it seemed as though Lily were truly holding the glittering darkened sky in miniature. A constellation of stars stood out, shining brighter than the rest. Lily pulled her head back and squinted to find it was in the shape of a lily flower.

When she tried to clear her throat it came out as more of a squeak. She licked her parched lips, distinctly avoided James’s gaze, and opened the card.

Evans —

I know this card is a few days late. I’m sorry for that. Though, I don’t think the date I give this to you matters all that much. The whole point of it was to say…

You shine brighter than all the rest, Lily Evans. Every day of the year.

Happy belated birthday.

—James

Lily blinked at the message scrawled in James’s familiar text, tried rereading it through hazy vision. Her mind and everything around her seemed to be going fuzzy.

“I had…something else,” she heard him say through the sound of her heart hammering in her ears. “But, I think—maybe another time.”

“What?” Lily’s eyes flicked up to his face, discovering splotches of red on his neck, the closest to blushing his complexion allowed. The sight of it made her own face burn hotter than it already had been, and she knew her light skin must be blooming with a bright blush. “Well, wait,” she said, curiosity pulling her out of her fog. “You can’t do that.”

James chuckled, grinning brightly. “No?”

Lily huffed. “No. It’s…rude.”

“Rude? I’m simply extending your birthday celebration.” Something in his cheeky smile drew her to her feet, her chair scraping across the floor, and how his smile then widened had her stepping around the table and into his orbit. James blinked down at her. “Are you…threatening me, Evans? After I’ve just made you a birthday card and gotten you a gift?”

“And withheld said gift,” she said, crossing her arms.

“As is my right.”

“Your…your— Weren’t you just going on about maturing?”

His eyes danced over her face, a twinkle in them that reminded her of the card he’d made her from magic. She shuffled her feet to distract from the swirling in her stomach. “Seems to me you’re the one who needs growing up a bit here, Evans. Seventeen’s a good year for a Coming of Age story. I’ve faith in you.” He patted the side of her arm and Lily wanted to scream in a variety of ways.

“You’re sixteen,” she replied lamely.

“Eh, some of us start off earlier than others.”

She blinked at him, mind spinning between thoughts on the concept of fairness, comebacks that couldn't be turned against her, the current proximity of her face to his, and you shine brighter than all the rest. Mostly it was just that last one, playing like a melody on repeat, a jingle intent on driving her mad.

“You're really not going to give me my gift?” Lily crossed her arms, leaning her hips back against the desk.

James stepped forward boldly, removing the space she'd created between them. “Alright, Evans.” He pulled a small box from his trousers pocket. “Since you haven't yet learned the virtue of patience.” He held out the box and, after staring at him a moment, Lily opened her palm. He placed the box carefully upon it. With the slightest smirk he learned toward her, bowing his head toward her cheek as though to kiss it. Lily stopped breathing. When he whispered, “Happy birthday, Evans,” she was sure she felt the brush of his lips on her skin.

In the next heartbeat he was gone, taking long backwards steps towards the library’s exit.

“What?” Lily gaped at him. His grin was touching the corners of his eyes, hands shoved in his pockets, a similar excitement to his energy as when he'd first approached her. Her eyes fell to the box and she called after him, “How do I know this isn't a trick?”

James shrugged as his back hit the library door. “Guess you'll just have to believe in my growth.”

Also on AO3!

#pretend i'm posting this on like....feb 2nd <3 #jily microfic #jily micro-oops #jilymicrofics #lily evans #james potter #hp #my writing #jily*#jily #the marauders #jily fluff

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moodymisty · 1 year ago

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Hi, I’d like to request a (nsfw) Perturabo x reader where you’re about to have sex with him, but you’re slowly realising from the way he’s anxiously going about it that he’s never had sex before. Perturabo knows, anatomically speaking, where the clit is, but he’s probably got no clue on what to do with it. (Also he’s probably trying so hard not to be an ass about it but he’s anxious and you’re so pretty and eager and what if he disappoints you and what if you call his sexual ability subpar and what if-) (he’s nervous. Basically)

I just feel like we often forget that a good number of the primarchs haven’t had sex before, which in my opinion could have some interesting implications in terms of x readers. Especially considering who they are and the possible stigmas around sex that they could have learned while on their various planets

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

A soft sequel to this request

Author’s note: I always jokingly quote Bricky when I say Perty is an Incel, so it’s nice I get to defeat the meme. Makes sense that most of the Primarchs probably wouldn’t indulge in such a thing at least often though, physical issues aside most humans tended to treat them like they were above them, which would probably be frustrating.

Anyways, I made sure to stay as close to your prompt as I could with Perturabo. I imagine he would NEVER let anyone see he wasn't a master at something, sex included. But don't worry, he worries internally plenty for you to enjoy I hope.

Summary: Perturabo returns to his new beloved, and indulges in an act he once deemed pointless.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Massive size kink, Perturabo is a little awkward but he tries to hide it, The creampie to end all creampies, A teeny bit of choking kink if you squint, Like 80% smut

Word Count: 2739 ...oops?

“Lord Perturabo?”

Hearing his name, he looks up to see a fresh faced Iron Warrior looking at him between two other of his elders. He hums as a response that he heard them, but that only seems to confuse him further.

“Should I repeat myself?”

Perturabo had hoped the three would take his disinterest in the matter as a tell for that they should continue their current plan, but he suppose they need his verbal approval on the matter.

“No. Take whatever tech priests aren’t already working on the issue and have them assist. I expect this to not be a problem for much longer.”

Throne knows we shouldn’t be waylaid for much longer.

The fact that they even had an engine issue to begin with upset the primarch immensely, but he’s been holding his tongue while it’s fixed. His legion has done nothing but aggravate him this entire mission, even more so than usual.

The three Iron Warriors nod and leave to follow his orders, and let Perturabo enjoy the room in silence once again. Apart from the hum of machinery and the buzz of a projection on the holotable, the room is finally quiet enough for him.

With a soft grunt of exertion he leans forward and places his hands against the edge of the massive table, and shifts uncomfortably in his armor as the issue that had distracted him previous makes itself known once again. It arguably aggravates him even more than this entire waylaid issue has been, his gauntlets gripping the table's edge tight enough that he feels it give way and crumbles underneath his hands.

Perturabo has never had such thoughts of sex take over so much of his head before. Especially ones that were unsolvable on his own, and lingered like some sort of infection.

If rarely the desire struck him and kept distracting him he could take a moment to himself, angrily yank himself to completion in the quiet of his own quarters- usually at his desk- before returning to his work, distraction quelled. It was transactional, just a bodily need to be dealt with before moving along.

But that hasn’t worked this time. He’s already tried and you still occupy his mind- still distracting him. It's all your fault, he should've never allowed you to get your nails into him this deep, deep enough that he can't tear them free.

He’s never felt this way before. He’s never felt any real desire to actually bring another person into his bed; If he needed that sort of release, he did it himself. To touch another, desire another, is new to him.

He knows you're soft, but how soft will you feel in his hands? Not just your own hand, but your entire body? He's never touched a woman before, had no reason to add another variable into his life that would largely serve to only distract him.

He wishes he could just rip all this armor off. He won't, but it's aggravating that now he's distracted enough to find it all inconvenient.

Once they repair the Iron Blood they can return to Olympia. Then he can see you and finally relieve himself of the stress you've put him under, scolding you for things you had no control over.

Unlike the days earlier when you were still working on his puzzle boxes, your workload now is significantly reduced. You mostly clean Perturabo's workshop and most personal quarters now, partly to keep yourself busy, and because he doesn't wish there to be anyone in there he doesn't trust.

He would have someone else he didn't despise to do it if you got bored of the work, the only reason he hasn't is because you seem to do it to keep your mind busy; Especially now that he was gone. He understands the feeling. He too hates it if his mind wanders too far off the path, hence why his workshop is so filled with random things he made when he felt himself drifting.

You enter the workshop and with significant effort close the heavy door behind you, before walking closer to him. He sits at his main workbench, a few partly rolled up plans the only thing in front of him of note. His shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, showing the scars on his arms hands as he leaned them on the table.

"How did it go?"

You say to him with a cautious look. You more than likely know that the Iron Blood was waylaid for a decent while, and you know faulty machinery is a core trigger for his mood to go quickly sour.

"I struggle to imagine a way it could have gone worse." He says with a monotone voice and blunt expression, which makes your lips purse- though before you can come up with a response he speaks again.

"Come here."

He gestures with one motion of his hand, and you walk closer up until you're standing right beside his chair.

It's still a bit surprising when he picks you up however; He's done it before, though the feeling of being lifted off the ground so easily is not a feeling done away with easily. He sits you onto his lap and you ignore the odd feeling in your chest about having been moved around so easily by him, looking down to see his thighs wider than your hips by a significant degree. Your legs dangle unable to touch the ground at this height; You look so small.

Leaning forward you pull some of the scattered blueprints closer to you, looking at them curiously.

"What are these for?"

Perturabo decides to placate at least one of your questions and ignore the ache between his legs for a moment longer.

"Drafts for the auto-targeting orbital defense cannons."

You hum and look at them, fingers brushing over the parchment. Perturabo watches as you lean forward, accentuating the curve of your spine and hips; Even with how light you are, he can also feel the way you soft thighs and ass press against him. He doesn't placate your questions any longer.

“Take it off.”

You’re clearly confused for a moment, taking your eyes away from his plans to look around.

“What? What do you mean?” You utter, before your body tenses as you feel his massive hand grip your waist.

“Take off your clothes.” Your hands suddenly begin to fumble with your dress, shaking. Perturabo settles to quicken the process forgo removing your dress, and simply push up the hem and tear off your underwear instead.

His hand wraps around your thigh easily, swallowing it in the massive expanse of his palm. His index finger slides between the crease at the very top of your thigh, and the closeness puts your lip between your teeth as your thighs instinctively move to close.

But the entire time his hand is less so teasing and more so, explorative. He has no destination in mind, and only lingers if he hears or feels you react to his touch.

He doesn't know how to touch you beyond the simplistic, what makes you sing. He'll learn silently, his pride would never allow him not to.

Pulling it away he moves his hand underneath you, yanking at his trousers. You hold his forearm for support until you see him finally free his cock, and it lays between your legs. You can just barely grind against it at this angle; but your bigger concern is its size.

Perturabo notices it too, but refuses to vocalize such a concern to you. He’ll make it work, he has too. He’s not sure if he would be able to survive if he couldn’t fuck you the way he’s been fruitlessly imagining to the point of being aggravatingly pent up.

His hand pushes between your legs, sliding against your folds and using his thick fingers to push them apart. You clench your teeth and lean back against his chest, feeling as he slips one of his fingers inside of you. Your sitting angle forces him to curl his finger in order to slip it into you fully he quickly realizes, grasping onto his arm for support.

He hears you moan, cunt soaking wet as you sit in his lap, leaning against his chest as he teases you. He knows that you won’t be able to take him straight away, not with your difference in size. It doesn’t take much to realize your tiny, tight little cunt wasn’t meant for him.

“Can you take another?” He says, and you think he’s teasing, but you realize he’s asking a genuine question.

Perturabo slowly forces a second finger into you and you cry out as he stretches you further, but the burn quickly fades into a pleasurable ache that has your stomach feeling tight and legs limp and useless.

"I have been waiting since that pathetic excuse of a ship was waylaid," Perturabo hisses between his teeth and feels his nose wrinkle angrily. "You will take me no matter how long we have to sit here." The sounds of your breathless moans are more arousing than he thought possible, making his cock twitch between his own thighs.

“Lord Perturabo?”

Stirred from his trance watching his hand shift between your legs Perturabo turns to glare at the door, the deepness and distorted tone of voice queues him in that it’s one of his Iron Warriors.

“The Iron Blood is repaired, the tech marines wished to show you before officially declaring it fit for duty-“

Perturabo suddenly places his other hand over your mouth, continuing to drive his fingers into your cunt has he yells. The Iron Warrior shouldn't be able to hear the wet sounds of his fingers curling inside of you, but he would be able to hear your incessant mewling.

“I will advise it tomorrow. Now leave me be.”

Your thighs shake, hands pulling at the one he has over your lower face trying to catch a full breath though his palm doesn’t allow you.

“And do not bother me again this evening.”

The Iron Warrior, clearly confused as to Perturabo’s sudden shift in attitude, responds in understanding and quickly takes his leave. Once gone, he finally takes the hand away from your mouth.

“You liked that?” Your watery eyes can’t see his face, only barely through the reflections on the metal in front of you. “I felt your little cunt get tighter.” He pulls his fingers from you and reaches between your legs to grab his cock, shifting himself to press against your entrance. It doesn't take much for him to lift you up slightly and begin to lower yourself onto him, slowly slightly when he hears you gasp.

Even with preparation, it's still a tight fit, he quickly realizes.

As such it's a slow and arduous process to fit himself into you, feeling your nails bite into the skin of his forearms. When your bottom finally hits the fronts of his thighs again, you feel like you're so full that you won't be able to handle it. It settles not long after however, though the feeling of him being almost right into your stomach still prevails.

"Good girl,"

He mutters as your weight rests in his lap; It slipped from his lips unconsciously, but you seem to respond to it. He internally slaps himself for allowing words to tumble out of his mouth without thinking, and steels himself to hold others firmly within his head for the time being.

He raises you up and down on his lap, holding you firmly at the hips. To hold you but not bruise you is a fine line with his strength, though if he is bruising you, you don't seem to mind. Perhaps you don't mind if he's rougher with you. Your smaller hands grip his forearms to steady yourself, or simply to keep yourself feeling grounded.

You look tiny against his massive expanse of a chest, shoulders barely higher than his ribcage.

"Pertura- Bo,"

You stutter out his name, the hot palms of your hands desperately grabbing at him. He's using you almost like a toy, but it's the only way he thinks is safe; He doesn't know the line, how much a body like yours could handle before it breaks. He knows he hasn't reached it yet, your gentle voice cries for him, leaning back against his chest.

He watches your lips part in a pant, and he wishes to kiss them, but resists it. The angle would be impossible, and part of him feels, off about how much larger his mouth is than yours. He feels like he can't do it properly. Perhaps it's lack of practice; You were the first one he's kissed as well.

A lot of firsts, you were. Largely meaningless to him years ago, but now he finds himself caring a bit more.

He's silently thankful when you finally come, sharply inhaling and digging your nails into his skin enough to leave little crescent moon marks. They'll fade in a few moments, he doesn't care. What he does care about is the way you feel like a vice around his cock, his right hand pulls away from your waist, forms a fist and slams the table as his teeth grit together, unable to hold himself back any longer.

You thought your body felt hot before, but it's even more so as you feel him finish inside of you, so much of it that you feel it almost forced out by the size of his cock. It makes a mess on the tops of his thighs, though neither of you care.

He makes no effort to even pull out until your heart isn't audible to him anymore, and when he does, he hears your whine as your well abused cunt flutters at the empty feeling.

Part of him almost wants to get angry with you; He's never bothered with something like sex before but now after this, with you, he can already feeling himself want to get hard and fuck you all over again until you're limp in his lap.

A smarter part of him wishes he'd never done this, never met you, never kissed you, never fucked you. He would've never known what he was missing, and never loose focus.

However that part of his mind looses, when he feels you lie more against the expanse of his chest. He sighs.

"It is late. I will bring you to my quarters and you can sleep there."

He refuses to let you sleep in that tiny room you called home before. For his own selfishness, and your safely. Now that you're becoming so close to him, your safety is a must. Many will find you an easy target.

"My clothes Bo, let me-" You quickly shut your mouth when you realized you hadn't called him by his proper name. He doesn't comment on it.

He picks you up not long after, bringing you to his quarters at a much quicker pace than you could do on your own. A few of his men give him an odd look at having such a disheveled woman in his arms, but it only takes one look in return for them to right their gaze and move along.

"Are you not going to stay?" You say when he plops you onto his massive bed with a gentle toss that makes you smile, and turns to leave.

"Must I?" He says it laced in sarcasm, but he regrets it when he sees the smile he'd just put on your face instantly bleed away.

"I wanted to hear about your plans, for a little bit. It's been so long since the last time."

Perturabo had as of late shown you more of his private plans, many of them war machines. He'd begun talking a bit out loud, and his deep voice talking rumbled in your chest and always made you feel so warm and comfortable.

He enjoys that you just listen. You don't have an ego to protect like he does.

Perturabo steps closer.

"If I do, I expect you to stay awake." You nod and smile. "I'll try." He sits onto the bed, grips your cheeks, and forces you to look up at him gently. Your lips purse from his grip in a way he finds tempting, and he mentally blames you for the distraction once again.

"You will. I'll make sure of it."

#perturabo x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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anitalianfrie · 1 year ago

Note

bezzetti and 8 for the sex prompt? it can be genderbend if you want

this might suck massively, fair waring....

oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck || bezzetti (from here)

It’s dark and suffocating inside the closed. Marco pushed him inside while they were laughing, running inside the house of somebody he’s pretty sure he doesn’t know, closing the door beside him with a loud thunk.

“Why- why are we here”

Marco looks at him all funny, eyes wide and big and eyebrows all furrowed.

“Shhhhhhhhh” he says, one finger trying to reach up to press against Cele’s mouth and missing, pressing against his chin instead.

“We’re hiding!”

“Yes, but why”

Marco furrows his brows even more. “Because...” he starts, and then falls face first into Cele’s neck, giggling. “I don’t know.”

“But.” he continues, “I’m sure it is. Important. So be quietttttttt” and Cele nods, because he gets it, it’s important. Super important. Super mega important.

Bez keeps giggling and giggling and giggling, lips brushing against Cele’s neck, against the skin and the muscles, and it’s hot now, isn’t it? Pressed one against the other inside the closet, surrounded by coats and winter clothes, in the dark.

Cele collapses on Marco, giggling too, in some sort of hug that must look more like a trainwreck from the outside, arms around the other’s body. Marco is hot and heavy against him, solid like a mountain, his lips and scruff scraping against Cele’s skin. And Cele feels like he’s burning from the inside, and he thinks: maybe we should. Maybe we- like we almost did last time.

And then, Marco stops giggling, but his lips are still there, on his skin, breathing against him, leaving him with goosebumps, and his hands travel under Marco’s tshirt, on the skin of his back, and he thinks they should be soft but they aren’t, heavy and clumsy drunk hands instead. Up and down, up and down, grabbing something that he shouldn't.

One of Marco’s legs pushes in between his owns, against his dick, until they’re so close Cele doesn’t know where he stops and where Bez begins.

“What now, bello?” he says, suddenly sure of himself, or maybe too drunk to care, he doesn’t know.

Instead of answering, Bez starts leaving little kisses on his neck, clumsy, dragging his lips on the skin, leaving wet little patches behind.

Cele’s hands trail up and up and up, one of scraping Bez’s back with the blunt end of his fingernails and the other tangled in his curls, Marco gasping on his skin, pressing himself even closer, reaching with his hands to squeeze his ass, and Cele can feel his dick pressing against his hip, getting hard.

Marco presses up a bit with his leg, where Cele is getting hard in his jeans, and he wants more, more, more, moving his hips a bit to get more friction, something. Bez whines, against his neck, and then looks up, eyes big and breaths heavy, and Cele yanks a bit on his curls where his hand is tangled and Bez whines again, fuck, fuck fuck fuck, a small strangled sound that goes down to his dick like fucking electrical current. Marco looks- he doesn’t know, and he kind of wants to kiss him because he’s so pretty but he doesn’t know if he can. He wonders whether Bez’s lips are red and lucid with spit, obscene, he wishes he could see.

He can feel Marco’s dick, hard, one of his hands moving around, while he breathes in his ear, and Cele thinks he’s about to die, there and then, his heart is beating so fast he feels it in his throat, and then Marco- Cele can’t see, but he can hear, and he hears Marco spitting, wet, in his own hand, and then something cold shoved inside his pants, grabbing the base of his dick, almost possessive.

A small, pathetic whine echoes in the closet, and it takes Cele a moment to realize it came out of his own mouth. Bez breathes, hard, still, and he’s hot under his hands, almost burning, and Cele wants to touch, more, more. And then. Marco starts moving his hand, flicking his wrist, swiping his thumb on the tip, and he can’t wait anymore, fuck, and he shoves a hand down Marco’s pants, the only sounds in the closet their breaths and the rhythmic wet slap of skin against skin. Marco is hot and heavy in his hand and hard, so hard, and his tip is already wet, and Cele knows it must be so red and he wishes he could fucking see it.

He moves his hand, a bit, slow, and Bez fucking moans in his ear, leaving behind a trail of wet breaths, still jerking him off, and Cele can’t do anything but move his hips, trying to follow his hand.

Bez keeps making little small sounds in his ear while Cele jerks him off, smearing the precum from his tip all over to ease the friction, and they go down directly to his stomach, to his dick, and he feels hot all over, his head empty, empty, only Bez.

Marco starts a litany of Cele, Cele, Cele, mouthing at the skin under his lips, and Cele doesn’t know if he’s whispering or screaming or, or, and he knows, he knows Marco must be as close as he is, hips stuttering under his grip, dick hot and so so wet. He squeezes him at the base, gently, thinking of what he likes, and Bez goes still and emits a strangled sound in his ear, only for him, and comes, Cele’s hand wet with his cum.

It was him. It was him, it was him doing this, he doesn’t- he doesn’t- fuck. Bez flicks his wrist, sweeps his fingers down, on his balls, and he’s fucking about to die, the rhythm of the hand on his dick erratic, fast, touching him everywhere, Bez’s neck under his lips, so so sweet, and he moans, coming in his hand, collapsing on Bez.

He closes his eyes, panting, pressing his face against Marco’s collarbone, breathing him in, his hand still in Bez’s pants and Bez’s hand still in his. Once it feels like his heart isn’t trying to get out of his ribcage anymore, he starts pulling away, but Marco keeps him tight, reaching out with both hands, hugging him.

“Can we stay like this?” he whispers, and Cele nods, eyes half closed, the high from the orgasm mixing with the alcohol in his bloodstream, making him feel stupid. He hugs Marco back, wiping his hand somewhere, maybe on his shirt, he doesn’t know, and buries his head Marco’s neck, in his soft curls. Breathing in, and out. In, and out.

He almost wants to say something, he doesn’t even know what. He wants, he wants-

A sudden light floods the closet. Cele squeezes his eyes, trying to keep it out.

“What...”

“I finally found you, cazzo!” half screams Mig from the other side of the door. “What the fuck were you doing in this closet... no, don’t answer me, we have to go. I can’t believe Bez keeps hiding in random places when he gets drunk...” he unceremoniously drags them out, screaming a bunch of ciaos on their way to the door.

Marco has a giant wet spot on his shirt. Cele misses his warmth.

#IDK MAN. IDKKKKK #bezzetti #my fics #c'è posta per me

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megthemariner · 2 days ago

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helloooo, happy friday! for eliana and merrill, maybe "[STYLE] Sender offers to style receivers hair" from the platonic intimacy list?

Thank you, this was a lovely prompt!! It did sort of get away from me….oops. I was trying to keep it short at least? 😂

This takes place during the 8-10 years post-DAI:Trespasser and pre-DAV. AKA my favourite time period to write about apparently

For @dadrunkwriting

———

Audience: General | Pairing: Eliana Lavellan & Merrill | WC: 1.1k | CW: none

———

They’re all in Hawke’s kitchen - well, Eliana’s kitchen now, she supposes - cooking, and it’s the closest she’s felt to belonging somewhere in a while. Orana likes cooking, and she’s good at it, but she doesn’t know any of the Dalish recipes Eliana and Merrill know, and they’ve been teaching each other recipes for about a month now.

It’s nice to keep busy.

If only her hair would stay out of her face.

Eliana prides herself on being even-tempered, especially with everything she’s had to deal with - but these past few months have been testing that. She tries blowing the lock of hair out of her face, again, unsuccessfully, as she continues kneading the dough. Her left arm twitches, muscle memory kicking in - usually she’d have a clean hand available. Eliana presses her lips together, closing her eyes & taking a deep breath in through her nose. After a moment, she releases it.

“How long do you knead it for?” Orana asks from beside her.

“Oh, not long - you don’t want the bread to get tough.”

“Merrill is right. We can start rolling it out now.” Eliana dips her hand into the bowl of water they’d set out prior, wiping it dry on the towel she’d tucked into her belt.

They each get to it, rolling the dough out thinly - ‘about the same thickness as your thumb’, the hahrens had always said. Merrill and Orana finish quickly enough, but Eliana takes longer, the dough roller awkward under her single palm. She can feel her cheeks burning as she adjusts the roller yet again, attempting to get her dough evenly flattened. The other two women stand by, watching silently; Merrill shifting her weight from side to side, Orana brushing some flour from her hands.

Yet another thing that was so much easier with two hands, Eliana thinks, attempting to push her frustration down. Her hair decides it’s a great moment to fall into her face again, and she almost loses it then & there. Setting the roller aside - her dough is good enough anyways - she straightens, pushing her hair out of her face with her hand, bits of flour falling onto her as she does.

“Now, we cut it into pieces.” She manages a smile, suddenly grateful for the months of composure and decorum training Josephine had put her through. “Merrill, can you start heating that lard up, sathan?

“Of course!”

She moves so quickly she nearly stumbles, but catches herself. Eliana feels the familiar pull of the fade against the back of her neck as Merrill conjures a small flame. Turning back to Orana, she gestures for the other woman to pick up the knife.

“I’ll show you where to cut, if that’s alright?” When Orana nods, she continues. “You want them to be roughly equal in size.”

The rest of the process goes by quickly. They manage to cook all of it without burning any of the frybread - or themselves. Eliana mostly watched, leaning back against the table, while Orana asked questions & Merrill answered. It wasn’t the same as cooking around a fire with her clan mates, but it was close. And yet, Eliana still feels this simmering frustration. She was so tired of it all - her anger at her loss of her arm, at all the ways her life had changed, irreparably, since she stumbled out of that breach in Haven all those years ago. It wasn’t fair, and yet - there was nothing to be done about it. She has to live with it.

Eliana tries to act happy, or at least content, throughout their meal, even chiming in now and then during conversation. They clean the kitchen, sending Orana home with some wrapped extras for her husband and son. Eliana is almost certain she was successful in disguising her emotions before Merrill turns to face her. The other woman looks pensive, or maybe just thoughtful? Eliana doesn’t know her well enough to tell yet. She’s surprised when Merrill takes her hand, holding it in both of hers.

“Will you let me braid your hair?”

The request catches her off guard. She hasn’t had someone else touch her hair since…since it was cut. Eliana blinks twice, then nods. She settles in front of the fire, sitting cross-legged like she did when she was just a girl. Merrill brushes some flour out of Eliana’s hair, then starts to separate sections from the front, making a small braid, pulling it back towards Eliana’s ear.

As she works, Merrill begins to talk.

“I didn’t spend much time here, before. Hawke always liked to visit me, and then we’d all see each other at The Hanged Man. But one thing I do remember is the people. Gemma lived here, of course, but so did her mother, a very nice dwarf who managed everything, plus his son, and eventually Orana as well. Fenris…spent a lot of time here too. Oh, and Gekek - Hawke’s mabari - I can’t believe I almost forgot him! He was here too.”

“And you know this, lethallan, but we were always surrounded by people in our clans, growing up. So much so that it was difficult to have any time to yourself!”

Eliana is happy to hear the smile in Merrill’s words, but wonders where she’s going with this.

“When I first came to Kirkwall - my own decision, like yours - it was very strange. I was still surrounded by people - you’ve seen the alienage, I know - but everyone was so separate from each other. And in my home, I was alone.” Merrill pauses, but whether lost in thought or memories, Eliana couldn’t say.

“This is such a large home. And it is empty.” Her tone is heavy, suddenly, and sad. “I know Varric visits, and Orana comes to clean throughout the week, but I still wonder if you’re awfully lonely up here all by yourself. And I thought, well - if it were me, I’d rather be busy doing something! So I wanted to say you’re welcome to come help me out at the clinic, if you’d like. There’s always something to do, after all.”

Eliana is quiet for a moment. The way Merrill talks always reminds her of the hahrens, with their long-winded stories, taking strange routes to get to the point. It fills her with warmth, but also a sense of homesickness. She would like to get out of here more often, though. Wandering through Kirkwall, wondering if every other person is whispering about the ‘Herald of Andraste’ - despite her fairly different appearance at this point - hasn’t been doing her any favours.

“I’d love to help out, Merrill. Ma serannas.”

———

Elvhen used: Sathan - please, Lethallan - friend, Ma serannas - thank you

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viridanira · 7 months ago

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— prompt sent in by @ofspvrta . " ‘you know i love you, right?’ (oop, she said it. Oh no.) "

FOR A PERSON THAT HAS JUST BEEN CONSISTENTLY BRUSHING KASSANDRA OFF FOR THE PAST 10 MINUTES ... that was not what kristen was expecting out of the older woman's mouth. sometimes it's easy to underestimate how wise a person is. sometimes it's somehow easier to underestimate how wise your own lover is. THEY KNOW BEST . it's the way kristen turns from the counter in her suite's kitchen , THE FULL POWER of inhumanly green eyes falling right on kassandra. lips so very tight. the bottle of vodka she was about to pop open is slammed on the counter with one hand , her other hand just slapped on the counter. A SIGH .

" ... no! " kristen just sort of yells seemingly out of nowhere. finger even raises to point. the single word just trails off and there's no real conviction to it beyond it being partially loud. then she just looks at kassandra , bruised features , with a little scratch. SHE DIDN'T PARTICULARLY SAY WHAT FIGHT SHE GOT INTO THIS TIME . and kristen doesn't think kassandra keeps up with the news outlets as much to really guess. staring , staring. kristen's face practically starts to melt , distorting into obvious sadness. LIP QUIVERS . eyes well up.

" ... you don't get to do that. you - i. i don't get to fall in love with someone who's just going to leave. i don't get to want to need someone just for them to leave , kassandra. " there's this really long pause where kristen just continues to stare at kassandra , a deep breath in. SHE HAS NEVER QUITE PUT AS MUCH VULNERABILITY RIGHT ON DISPLAY . kristen durus is not actually a cold or uncaring person , though. she knows what she's saying. SHE KNOWS WHO KASSANDRA IS .

and kassandra's done it before , hasn't she? kristen finally looks away , practically melting onto that counter , head rolling into the crook of her elbow.

#𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐼𝑁𝐺 › time to get these seeds into the cold ground.#𝑅𝐸𝐿 : 𝐾𝐴𝑆𝑆𝐴𝑁𝐷𝑅𝐴 › when is a monster not a monster?#ofspvrta

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hb-writes · 1 year ago

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For a ‘love’ prompt, I hope they’re still open? If not ignore this ☺️ I love the relationship between Emmeline and Christian Grey, so maybe something cute and fluffy to show the love they have for each other, something like ‘You have three seconds to run.’

"You have three seconds to run."

Emmeline was still giggling and the words took an extra moment to process as she considered her brother's current condition, her mind trying to compute exactly how dropping her breakfast dishes into the suds-filled sink had caused such a strong splash back, one which had left her gloriously dry while Christian looked like she'd dumped a pot of water on him, liquid dripping to the kitchen floor.

"Oops?" Emmeline offered a small smile to her brother, taking a cautious step away from him as she tried to sober herself.

Christian snorted and a dangerous gleam shined in his eye as he wiped a bit of soap from his cheek, his lips pressing into a straight line, though Emmeline could tell it was an effort not to smile.

Christian Grey had a few dangerous looks, a handful of infamous glances and glares that communicated without requiring him to utter a single word. Emmeline was all too familiar with those sorts of looks. She'd been on the receiving end of them often enough. More than most people, she suspected, but as familiar as she was with the looks that communicated Christian's frustrations, she knew this look, too...

Christian would have the world believe that he wasn't the playful sort, that he was a serious businessman. A no-nonsense sort of person and nothing more...but Emmeline knew her brother well enough to know better.

Equal parts of dread and giddiness settled her stomach as Christian started counting out.

"One..."

Emmeline's mind emptied of everything except the goal of putting distance between her and her brother, her sock-clad feet slipping on the floors as she pushed past him and raced through the penthouse.

"Two..."

She let out a scream followed by a peal of laughter as Christian counted out the final number, her foot slipping and sending her into the wall as she turned a corner. Christian had given her a head start, but as she listened to the sounds of his approach, Emmeline had no illusions about the fact that her advantage was fleeting.

She met her brother's eye as he appeared at the end of the hall and a startled shriek escaped her lips as she pushed herself into motion once again, aiming for the nearest room with a locking door—Christian's home office at the end of the hall.

"Ha!" Emmeline shouted as she slid over the threshold, slamming the door in Christian's face as he caught up, both of them fumbling with opposite sides of the door handle—Christian trying to gain entry as Emmeline worked to secure the lock.

She let out a nearly breathless laugh as the lock finally clicked in place, resting her arms above her head as she caught her breath.

Christian called his sister's name through the door, the tone almost alarmingly calm, gentle. "Open the door."

The handle rattled. "Em. Let me in."

She laughed. "No way," she answered, stepping away from the door. "Feel free to contact my assistant to make an appointment."

Emmeline could've sworn she heard Christian laugh on the other side of the door. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"I think I can maybe get you in next Tuesday," she continued, slipping her phone from her pocket as it chirped, an email notification popping up on her lock screen—a calendar invite from Christian with the meeting label 'retribution,' scheduled for the next fifteen minutes.

Emmeline snorted, rolling her eyes as she slid into the chair behind his desk and declined the invite. She started scrolling on social media, figuring she could wait him out. Wait until the desire for retribution was replaced by something more important—something with work or Ana's return from her brunch with Kate.

Emmeline shot to her feet, dropping her phone as the door suddenly shot open, revealing her brother, smirking there with a single key in his hand. The key she'd conveniently forgotten to consider.

"Chris..." Emmeline started, hands held up in the space between them as Christian stalked forward. "Chris. Christian! Please just wait." Emmeline stepped around the desk, trying to keep the furniture between them. "It was an accident. They slipped. Please. I—"

Emmeline shrieked as her brother grabbed her arm, pulling her to his chest and trapping her there with one arm, his fingers digging into her ribs as he extracted his retribution.

#lovefest2024 #fifty shades of grey #christian grey #sister fic #platonic #emmeline grey #thanks for the request!

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caspercryptid · 1 year ago

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OMG! The cooking prompt was so cute! I loved the way they were both so insistently tugging on the pot but are also like "You work so hard!" "No, you." ROFL It was great.

Also, sorry about overwhelming you with prompts! I got excited!

Drunk Gale and drunk Wyll at the tiefling party being silly (maybe a little sad at some points), maybe sharing a kiss, and then passing out next to each other (maybe in their arms?)

This one next?

Don't worry about overwhelming me!! I don't mind getting multiple prompts at a time, I just prefer to get them in separate asks so I can put the request fill in the reply individually, so feel free to ping me another couple, I'll reply to whichever ones i've got the brain for. —

“I have decided,” Gale says, tone serious, “that I hate you.” Wyll looks up. Gale is beautiful in the firelight, shadows dancing across his features, his robes swaying in the faint shifting air of people passing by and the waves of warmth from the fire, sound cushioning them both— distant laughter, revelry, the general hum of joy and people. The party was, however, starting to wind down, so it wasn’t quite so loud that Wyll could miss what Gale just said.

“I beg your pardon?” he says, anyway, because surely. Surely Gale of waterdeep did not just say that.

“I am here to tell you that I hate you,” Gale says, “You are distracting. A distraction. I missed a fire bolt today, and it’s on account of you.”

Wyll. squints. A little. His mind is moving a mite slow- he’s had a few drinks, passed enthusiastically into his hand by his friends and the tieflings, but holding this conversation up against similar conversations with gale to see if it makes sense is coming up with nothing. There doesn’t seem to be a context he could place this in. “Did I.... do something wrong?” He asks.

“Yes,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate, which is frankly very unlike him. Wyll waits. Gale continues to fail to elaborate.

“—come and sit down,” Wyll decides.

“No,” Gale says, petulant, “I wouldn’t want to— keep you from your. Evening’s diversions. Although frankly it’s unprofessional.” “Unprofessional,” Wyll echoes.

“Yes, unprofessional. Lots of people make careers out of adventuring, and even if we were thrust into it, we could— follow professional standards. Of conduct.” “We could,” Wyll agrees, slowly, trying to see a way out of this conversation, but that seems to be the wrong answer, because Gale puffs up like a pigeon. Actually, it’s rather cute, the way he sticks his chest forward. Wyll always thought it was funny when people did that in fights. Trying to make themselves look bigger, as though size was ever an indicator of how well they were going to hold up in a fight. Wyll had fought some halflings, it really really wasn’t.

“You,” Gale says, and then fails to elaborate.

“Me,” Wyll agrees.

Gale open and closes his mouth, and then he says— “Lae’zel.” “—Yes?” Wyll tries.

“You’re— fornicating. With her.”

“...fornicating,” Wyll echoes, and then, hastily, “I know what it means, I just— um. No.” That seems to throw Gale off.

“...No?” He repeats.

“No,” Wyll repeats. “Uh, or, I did. A little while ago. We’re done. I’m not expecting a repeat performance, so if it bothers you—” He trails off, trying to understand what Gale’s expression is doing.

“Oh,” Gale manages. “Oh, I suppose that’s—-fine, then. She’s— not suited for you, anyway.” “Seems she agreed,” Wyll says, baffled.

“You ought to have someone more suited to your temperament,” Gale continues, “kinder, perhaps. Or. More understanding. Of you. More... like. Me.” Oh.

Wyll laughs, he can’t help it, but before Gale can get up in arms again he extends up his arms.

“Come here,” He says, encouraging, and then lets out a little Oof as Gale just sort of crumbles, landing on top of him and knocking him from his sitting position onto the ground. “Oops,” Gale mumbles. “Perhaps none of that is what I meant to say, perhaps i meant to say— something else—” Before Gale can invent a better lie, Wyll kisses him.

“—That’s better,” Gale says, when he comes up for air, and Wyll grins at him.

“It is,” He agrees, and decides he’s going to learn from experience not to run his mouth too much, and kisses Gale again.

#bladeweave #wyll ravengard #bg3 Wyll #bg3 Gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #gale x wyll #wyll x gale #casper's haunted fic tag #bg3

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sage-nebula · 4 days ago

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I know it's been a while, but 1, 2, 3 and 9 for A Candle in the Dark!

It is never too late to talk about A Candle in the Dark <3 And for those unfamiliar with this one . . .

Summary: When the leader of his old gang threatens the lives of Jounouchi's friends as the cost of his defiance, Jounouchi is forced to return to the life he had tried to leave behind. But although he's willing to burn himself at both ends to ensure his loved ones stay safe, they are just as determined to make sure his light never goes out. [Canon Divergence from chapter 11 of the manga]

1.) Start to finish, how long did it take to plan and write? Did you take breaks during the process?

So, there wasn't a whole lot of planning that went into it, at least not at first. I wrote it based on a fic prompt ask meme someone sent me, one requesting Yuugi/Jounouchi with "don't fucking touch me." I was puzzled over how to make that work with them at first, and then I realized that it could work and be in character if Jounouchi was saying it as a way to get Yuugi away from him for safety reasons. With that, the idea to make it a canon divergence to chapter 11 of the manga was born.

Then someone sent another prompt with them, with the dialogue, "what happened doesn't change anything," and I realized I could work that into another entry in the same continuity . . . and the rest is history. Chapter two ends on a pretty easy lead-in to chapter three (Jounouchi arriving at the bar to meet with Hirutani and Matsumoto), and chapter three similarly led with an easy lead in to other chapters . . . I did, as I wrote, start to have ideas for things that would happen in the future (e.g. I knew by around chapter six or seven that I wanted the Kaiba chapter, for instance), but for the most part as I wrote the chapters more ideas for things to follow came to me, so it kind of flowed from there.

As for how long it took me to write . . . it looks like the (original draft) of the first chapter was first posted on September 20th, 2015, and the final chapter was posted on March 16th, 2016! So it seems it took a little under six months to write. Considering it is over 100k, that is astounding to me. Where did that energy go. I miss it.

2.) How did you come up with the idea?

Answered above, oops! But yeah, someone sent me a prompt for Wishshipping with "don't fucking touch me" and I had to figure out how to make that IC, haha. I realized the only way would be if Jounouchi was being a lying liar who lies in order to keep Yuugi safe, and everything spun out from there. (It helped that the Hirutani chapters were always some of my favorites, too.)

3.) Did the idea change at all by the time the fic was complete?

Nope! Mostly because I didn't have a set conclusion in mind when I started writing, lmao. It just kind of grew organically as I wrote it, though as I said, the ideas formed along the way and so I knew several things that would happen several chapters out. (Like the Kaiba chapter, to use an example again; I had already planted seeds for Death-T in Ayumu's first chapter, and I realized, "It would be a delicious pot of angst for Jounouchi to be the one to deliver the three Blue-Eyes cards to Kaiba, since we know Kaiba made ties with the yakuza to get them, and then later uses them to put Sugoroku in the hospital. Let's make Jounouchi's life worse by doing that.") Of course I never ended up showing Death-T, but it happens a couple weeks after the fic concludes, so the idea is still there.

9.) Did you get stuck at any point? How did you get past that?

Well, you see . . . there was originally going to be an epilogue that showed Jounouchi getting back to normal life with the help of his friends, and that was going to end with Jounouchi and Yuugi being picked up by Mokuba for Death-T. A sort of cliffhanger ending, except people who have read the manga would know exactly where they were headed. Unfortunately, I couldn't write the epilogue . . . not only could I not get it to feel right, but I also felt that the ending of chapter fourteen was about as perfect as I could make it, and I had real concerns that an epilogue would ruin that. So I never ended up writing it, and instead just marked it as complete on chapter fourteen (albeit it took me a long time to do that, haha).

So, I guess you could say, I never got past it! lolololol

But I'm sure there were chapters I had issues writing, I just don't remember that now. I will say that nowadays if I get stuck on something (and it's usually always the beginning that I'm stuck on), I'll try writing it from another angle to see if that works better. So for instance, if I'm writing a story with multiple POV characters, I'll try switching to one of their viewpoints instead. (In fact, now that I say this, I'm vaguely remembering that this may be why Anzu got a POV chapter . . . I think I might have had issues writing that one from Jounouchi's POV and so I switched to her instead, and it worked.) If I can't switch to another character's POV for whatever reason, then I'll try to start the scene somewhere else. Like in my current ongoing fic Grounding Techniques, originally that first chapter was going to start with Jule and Alicia heading to their meeting, but that just wasn't working for me so I wrote the chapter with him waking up instead. (Which is a writing cliche you're not supposed to do, but I asked a friend to read both and she preferred the wake-up beginning. Go figure!)

So yeah, nowadays if I can't get the sentences to work, I try to switch up what I'm doing, either by changing character or by changing the setting. Usually that works out pretty well!

#except for the epilogue but like i said i just didn't want to ruin that ending lol #somegiantmess #fic: a candle in the dark

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cuprohastes · 2 years ago

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Hey you, space orc!

Sometimes, Dave The Human got mistaken for an actual human, because someone saw the name and mistook her for Dave the Human - an actual Human, currently under the moniker of Phalanges Mitten as part of his deep cover as a female Atrix after accepting a sort-of marriage proposal from a small, actual Atrix.

And then the female Tsin would show up as per request and someone would double take and go 'Oh er'. and they'd call EVA 43, who was known for being an unkillable badass, or Phalanges, who was not known for being an unkillable badass, because he never mentioned the thing with the Thotari assassins or that one time he beat up an entire pirate ship.

This prompted Dave to broach the subject over food in the Cafeteria:

"So... what is a Space Orc?" she asked. Cat fantastic said "Gweep?" and Phalanges and EVA 43 did that thing where they leaned back and swapped significant looks and made 'Mmm, hmmm' faces.

Dave watched Cat Fantastic, Phalanges Little Guy copy the move thoughtfully, and then EVA 43 said. "It's an old joke. Like from before the Wallandernook showed up and got us interstellar."

Dave nodded instead of doing the ear sweep, a carefully learned habit. "Yeah... they got us off planet entirely - Without artificial gravity, we can't do it in person - And of course there's that whole 'oops bombed ourselves into an anti-space doctrine." she said.

Cat Fantastic said 'Graak' and Dave wondered what he meant by 'Nice exposition'.

EVA 43, who's actual name nobody could ever recall for more than a few seconds continued and once again Dave was bemused that the moment she looked away she couldn't picture 43 in any away: not their gender, skin colour... nothing: As though someone had written a character and failed to give them any description at all and for some reason kept up with the gag.

"We have this literary tradition of writing fantasy works - Fiction - With uhhh..."

"Tropes." offered Phalanges.

"Tropes - Yes, OK so one is Orcs. They're barbaric, kind of dumb compared with Humans... but they're a bit bigger, a bit stronger, a bit hardier..."

"So in any physical situation, the Orc is the one who's most likely to survive, discounting any plot necessity." said Phalanges.

"Oh I guess I get it." said Dave. "We've got something similar but it sort of loosely translates as Even Bigger People." - She herself was a Big Female, which was unrelated to size. It just meant that without modern medical intervention she was unlikely to change gender, unlike three quarters of the Tsin population who would swap to maintain gender balance naturally. The connotations were 'The most female type of female', which got adjusted for the benefit of talking to other species.

Cat Fantastic said "Graak." which was true: As a monogendered species who's reproductive roles were defined by body mass out of convenience, and who's actual reproduction was 100% external and more akin to a turtle dumping her eggs and then letting the hatchlings just deal with survival, the Atrix version of a bigger stronger more durable Atrix was literally just the biggest strongest and most durable Atrix that you knew.

And compared to Humans Atrix were fragile: A normal human could walk off injuries that would be incapacitating to an Atrix.

43 famously stepped into hard vacuum with nothing but a surgical gown, after surviving a few hours with life support disabled in a crippled EVA suit, by just being reversibly dead.

They'd done it to save their friend, an Atrix, who had to have a new eye installed, and had life-long scars from mere low pressure exposure that was too low for them to maintain consciousness... a situation that for a human would possibly, if sustained for a while, caused a hickey and dry eyes, maybe a wheeze from inhaling hard.

Phalanges nodded. "So yeah - In comparison to most species, we can survive higher gravity - or no gravity - injuries that would cripple or kill other species with shock - We've got redundant organs, and emergency chemical responses that turn off the limits of our muscles so we can trade massive damage for survival... or not feel pain."

EVA 43 frowned and thought about that, then nodded and ticked off a couple of fingers, "And we can stop breathing for a couple of minutes, consume our own body mass if there's no food, keep moving for longer than almost any other starfaring species...."

Phlanages picked up, "And then pack bond with nearly any organism or object, so instead of getting obliterated by everyone else because we met you guys and reached for a recipe book..."

EVA 43 added "... we can eat a stupid range of food including what a lot of other species consider poisonous chemicals..." to the list.

Phalanges continued cheerfully, "... so you guys were like 'Oh crap, no wait, these dumb monsters are friendly. Maybe they'll pick stuff up and carry it for us.'"

"And do human related stuff." EVA 43 added.

Daver held up both her small hands, the one on her second set of arms. "OK, and it helps you have this really weird flexible language and you're just right in the middle of the audio and visual range almost everyone uses." she added drumming her big claws on the table, which Cat Fantastic mimicked.

"Yeah."

"Squeap." said Dave, making a pity comment in her normal, near ultrasound dialect of Southern Tstktk Tsin. "I do enjoy these weird little culture discussions. But I feel like I'm letting the side down because people keep calling me for space orc stuff."

Phalanges, mouth full of purple breadroll shrugged and gave EVA 43 a look.

43 leaned back and pondered. "OK well... look, it's going to be mostly Atrix calling, right? Humans don't need another human unless it's a specific uh..."

"Phkil" mumbled Phalanges.

"Bingo. And there's just not many Tsin doing work that needs a human. They're mostly in Med or admin where the gravity is safest."

Dave nodded again getting an idea of where this was going.

"So it's Atrix. Therefore..." said 43...

"... you just need to figure out what you can do that they can't." finished Phalanges, "And do it in the most flamboyant way possible."

---

Mothers Pride, looked down at Dave, having requested them to the bowels of the station - An area that really was the bowels as it dealt with the processing and containment of the sanitation system. Which means exactly what you think.

Actually, this was part of Dave's area of expertise, as they were a certified life support specialist like Phalanges. She had the horrifying stains on her jumpsuit to prove it.

"Oh we, er thought you were going to be a human." said Mothers Pride in very formal Tsin.

Two smaller Atrix peered around her, doing complex colour patterns with their faces.

"Well... I am for tax reasons." said Dave. "Is this anything to do with the overheating steriliser?" she asked in her natural colloquial yokel manner.

"How...? Yes, yes, it's in an awkward place and we can't get in because of the heat and the close quarters." Pride said giving Dave a peachy-green look.

"Ah, oh that's no problem. Just let me take a listen... hmmm... OK the circulator pump's not running fast enough..." she said and put her claw tips on the piping, "... yeah feel that, the vibration's about half what you would expect." she said.

The three Atrix simultaneously looked at their tablets where the diagnostics were telling them something similar, at length with less detail.

Then she paused, ears swivelling, making a high clicking sound that made the Atrix twitch minutely flush orange with each ultrasonic burst, and carefully added, "Ah you might want to step back", and rapidly knocked on the pipe as she stepped into the accessway - Too tight for an Atrix. OK for one of the slim wiggly humans, fine for the short and stocky Tsin. There was a startling gurgle and a thrumming vibration: The impellor picking up started pumping the horrible gunk through the system - the increased flow taking the building heat from the pasteurisation unit with it.

Then she shuffled back out with some new trophy stains on her overalls, flicked her ears once and said "Nice working with you, Pride." and ambled back down the corridor.

Mothers Pride and her two interns watched, astounded. They stared at each other, flickering colours on their cheeks and foreheads, amazed.

Dave, who's vision was at the other end of the spectrum to Atrix vision, and who'd been able to see the infrared coming off the machinery as a grainy glow, and who's vocalisations and hearing were good enough to do a little fuzzy ultrasound, had detected the mass choking the pipe (And gotten lucky that strategic knocking had make it move) got all the way around the bend before allowing herself some excited squeaps.

After all, she was a Space Orc now.

#station stories #Dave the Human #Phalanges mittens #Cat Fantastic #EVA 43 #Tsin #Humans are space orcs #And so can you #Humans are inclusive

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eyitzme · 2 months ago

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ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵉᵖᵉˢᵗ ⁱⁿʰᵃˡᵉ ;; ᵏᵃⁱᵐᵒⁿ ⁽ᵖ:ᵉᵍ⁾

Prompt: Self-Sacrifice (May 7) Alternate Universe: Miitopia Fusion Summary: During a battle, Damon almost dies. Kai takes care of him when they get back to the inn, and he still wants to the next day. Damon is certain he doesn't need it. Word Count: 2,207 A/N: I didn't realize I forgot to post the entry for May 7 here until right now. I guess I'll just post May 8th's entry tomorrow. Oops...

some heroes are way too selfless

Ever since Damon arrived in Greenhorne, weird things kept happening to him. First it was the Dark Lord stealing people's faces to put on monsters, then it was being gifted power from some god that came from a necklace to make him some sort of knight. He was told he had no choice and needed to defeat the Dark Lord and get all the people's faces back to their respective owners, which made him start a journey across Miitopia. The god decided that he shouldn't work alone, though, and forced him to have three others accompany him.

At this point, Damon was used to weird things happening to him, so he wasn't too surprised when he almost died.

Damon didn't know how he survived the walk to the nearest inn. His entire body ached, and the pounding in his head wouldn't stop. With his blurry vision, he had to rely on the other three for help, but that was the most he remembered. Today, he woke up in the familiar bed of these inns with less pain, a clearer vision, and an empty head. The sunlight streamed in through the windows, although he didn't know how long he was asleep for.

As he looked around to make sense of where he was, he saw a chair had been pulled up beside the bed, and sitting on the chair was Kai.

Kai was asleep, his head drooping over. His pink hair fell in front of his face, and his hat was on his lap. Damon didn't get what about Kai people liked so much—his singing was mediocre at best—and he didn't consider the two of them to be close. He assumed Kai had come to check up on him at some point during the night and fell asleep doing so. The sunlight that came in made his hair look lighter and softer, although Kai claimed his hair was actually really thin. He felt an urge to touch it.

Not long after, Damon watched Kai start to wake up. He seemed a little disorientated at first, but when he saw Damon, he immediately sat up. As he put his hat back on, inadvertantly helping Damon fight the urge to touch his hair, he asked, "Damon, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm alright," Damon replied without taking his eyes off him. "You can go back to your room now."

"I don't have one," he said.

He knew by now that Kai wasn't a fan of travelling, at least not the travelling they were doing. He constantly talked about how he missed his bed back home and how he hated having to get used to a whole new environment every day and night. Why the god, who Damon assumed could send anyone he wanted to Damon's team, thought it was appropriate to send him Kai, Damon didn't know, but he was stuck with him now.

"Are you still hurt?" Kai continued to ask. "Do you need anything?"

"I already said I'm fine." Damon attempted to sit up, but Kai placed his hands on his shoulders and pushed him back down before he could.

"You stay here," he said. "I'll get you anything you need!"

"Then can you bring the toilet here?"

He blinked. "Umm... No, I can't..."

After a second, he added, "I don't need to go. I need to eat breakfast soon, though."

Without hesitation, Kai offered, "I'll bring it here! What do you wanna eat?"

He frowned. He slowly asked, "What do they have?"

"No clue, but I'll go check now!" He practically jumped out of the chair, pushing it back a bit.

"It's okay," Damon said before he could go. "I'll go myself."

"No, no, you stay here in bed."

"Then I'm not hungry."

"But you should still eat, right? That's what your body needs. I'll go—"

"I'll eat breakfast later."

"Oh. Well, I guess that's fine." Kai sat back down. He pulled the chair closer. "Anything else you need?"

"Nothing." Damon finally turned his head away from Kai. His body felt a little warmer. He adjusted the blankets on top of him and realized what was under it. "I'm still wearing my armour?"

"I didn't want to undress you. I like to take things slow." Kai awkwardly laughed before he stopped. "That wasn't funny..."

"You helped me into bed?" Damon tried to remember what happened when he came back to the inn but couldn't.

He nodded. "I basically carried you here too. I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything, even though you fell asleep really fast—which panicked me because I thought you passed out. I stayed the entire night here in case you woke up."

"What about your room?"

"The others have their own rooms, but I didn't get one. If I was going to stay the entire night here, that room I would've stayed in would be better for someone who actually needs it. I thought I told you that?"

"When you said you didn't have a room, I thought you were complaining again."

"Hey, I—do I complain that much?"

"Are you going to start complaining that I said you complain?"

"Don't start telling me what to do!"

Damon resisted the urge to smile. If he did, he might laugh, and he could tell that even though he felt better than he did last night, laughing would still hurt.

When he calmed down, Kai continued. "But, yeah, I stayed the night in your room. I also took off your helmet—it's by the desk over there—but I didn't take off your armour. Is it too uncomfortable?"

"It's tolerable." He would prefer to be in something lighter, but it wasn't the end of the world.

"Well, that's good."

Neither spoke for a second. Damon glanced at him, then looked away. "You can go. I can handle myself."

"I'll stay," he said.

After more silence, Damon asked, "What are the others doing?"

"Relaxing before we head off. If you're not feeling like leaving, I can tell them we're not going anywhere, and I'll ask the inn's owner to let us stay for another day."

"I can go."

He frowned. He leaned closer as he inspected him. His eyes were actually a darker shade of yellow than he initially thought, though it could simply be the lighting. "Are you sure? Can you even hold a sword?"

Looking at Kai's forehead was easier than looking at his eyes. "If I have some more time, I think I can."

"You think?"

"I know I can hold a sword."

"Too late. You're not ready. I'll go tell the others—"

"Kai—" Damon tried to sit up, but not fast enough for Kai to move his head away. Their foreheads hit, causing some pain to go through Damon's head. His back hit the bed again.

Kai moved back after that. His eyes widened when he saw Damon rubbing the area where their heads collided. "Did I hurt you? Oh, my God, I'm so sorry! Do you need anything? Ice? I'll get you ice! An ice pack! There should be some—"

"Kai, what is wrong with you today?" Damon demanded. "I don't need a babysitter to look after me, and I'm not fragile enough that I'll be on the brink of death from a stupid accident!"

He froze midway through his panic. His gaze dropped as his body relaxed. "I'm... I'm sorry. I just... I really don't know how to thank you."

"Thank me for what? I didn't do anything!"

"You didn't—" He frowned. "Damon, what are you talking about? You literally saved my life yesterday!"

He remembered it now. They were in the midst of a tough battle. Kai had been injured horribly by those monsters, and there was a high chance that the next attack on him could kill him. Damon must have subconsciously realized that because when the next monster attempted to attack Kai, Damon shielded Kai with his own body. He was too injured to keep fighting for the day, but he knew the other three won without him.

There was only one word Damon thought was the appropriate answer. "So?"

Kai had a different opinion. "So? What do you mean, so? Does your life mean nothing to you? You almost threw it away, and you just...you just expect me to forget about it?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, it is! I don't know what world you're living in, but in mine, if someone's willing to sacrifice their life for you and they make it out with it, then you have to thank them!"

"If you need to thank me, saying, 'Thank you,' works just fine."

"No, it doesn't! Imagine if I saved you like you saved me. You'd be fine with just saying, 'Thank you,' to me?"

"Yes."

He groaned. "God, you're so... You're so weird! Why did I have to be stuck in the same team as you?"

"You could have at least chosen not to stay in my room for the night," he reminded.

"I know." He sighed. The frustrated look on his face relaxed. He spent a few moments silent before he looked back to Damon. His voice was quieter. "Why did you even do it?"

Damon and Kai weren't close. At least, Damon didn't think they were. The other two in their team told them, sometimes jokingly, that they often felt like they were barging in on something when they spent time with him and Kai. He never understood what they meant. Kai was the last person to join the team and thus the one he knew the least. That was how it should be.

And yet, during their travels, Kai was always the one he spoke to the most, he was the first person Kai went to if he found anything, and whenever one of them needed something like food, the other would be the first to offer. The team liked to save money by rooming with each other, but Damon preferred being by himself, so other than rare occasions such as this, he would normally stay in the stables with their group's horse, which inns allowed for free. If he had to choose anyone though, he was fine with rooming with Kai, which wasn't something he would have expected himself to say.

Kai wanted an answer, but Damon didn't know what he wanted to hear. He chose to be honest. "I don't know."

He sighed again. "I told you, you're so weird. No sane person does this..."

"No sane person goes on a mission to stop the Dark Lord either."

"That's different. The god thing from your necklace told you to do it. The god didn't tell you to sacrifice yourself for me. That's just you being weird."

"It doesn't matter." He paused. "Kai, if you really want to pay me back, don't do anything special. Treat it like any other day."

"But that feels so—"

"I don't care how it feels. As long as the Dark Lord is still out there, no one has time to focus on silly things like this." They didn't have time to focus on emotions or however they felt towards others either. "Don't waste my time by being stupid."

Kai's face fell, looking oddly like a kicked puppy. He barely managed to stop himself from taking back what he said. Everyone in this team knew that their goal was to take down the Dark Lord. They couldn't afford to be sidetracked. Really, he was doing him a favour by telling him to ignore anything he did for him.

After some silence, Kai said slowly, "If that's what you want... But can I at least do something? It'll kill me if I don't do anything to help you. After I do something, I'll pretend this never happened."

"Fine," he sighed. "What do you want to do?"

"Why are you asking me? You're the one who almost died. You tell me what you need."

He was about to repeat that he didn't need anything, but he knew that would make them go in circles. He thought about something minor he wanted. "Before we left to tell the king about the Dark Lord, I heard some people talk about a new documentary that just came out."

"Oh, you're so the kind the person that only watches documentaries."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, you're, like, super smart and stuff from it, right? Beauty, and brains, and whatnot. Wait, are you saying you want to go see the documentary together? 'Cause documentaries really aren't my thing."

Damon decided to ignore the comment that came before the question. "That's what I want."

"Actually? You're killing me here, Damon, but I'm fine with doing anything you want."

As tempting as the offer was, Damon stated, "I want to watch a documentary with you. Watch it with me, then forget about this."

"But..." Kai slowly nodded. "Okay, fine. We're going to watch a documentary, whatever it's about."

"Good." Damon tried to sit up again, but pain coarsed through his arms. He spotted Kai immediately get worried, so he clenched his teeth and sat up. He now had to prove that he was fine and didn't need anyone's help, in case Kai went back on his agreement.

Their collective focus was on the Dark Lord. Watching a documentary was the most amount of time he could spare. After that, they needed to get back on track.

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