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bornonthesavage · 10 months

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It was an undeniable fact that Steve was lucky. He had been told it more times than he could count, from all sorts of people, so it must be true. His friends at school told him he was lucky that he had no one at home to give him a bedtime or make him eat vegetables. The housekeeper that came to bring him groceries and to clean once a week told him he was so lucky to live in such a nice house. Ever since he could remember, his parents had told him that he was lucky to be born to an upper-class family. And when others were around, Steve kept up the façade. He could pretend that he agreed, with bright smiles and boastful words. But in the late hours of the night, when he was all alone in that big house, lucky wasn’t the word he thought about. No, what Steve really was, was lonely.

Even at twelve years old, Steve was pretty sure it wasn’t normal for his parents to leave him alone for up to a month at a time. When he was young, they had hired nannies to care for him while they were away. That hadn’t been great either, but at least there had been someone else in the house with him. Someone to talk to and watch TV with and to make dinner. Then, on Steve’s twelfth birthday, his parents had told him he was old enough to look after himself while they were away. They trusted him to not burn down the house, at least. That had been six months ago.

Now, six months later, Steve sat alone in his living room. His parents had left earlier in the week, promising to be home before the end of the month and told him to call if he needed anything. He never called. What would be the point? It wasn’t like they would come home. No, if he needed something, he would figure it out on his own.

Steve pulled his knees up to tuck against his chest as he sat on the couch, watching a rerun of Gilligan’s Island. A half-eaten bowl of popcorn sat on the coffee table along with an empty coke can. He had heated up a bowl of chicken noodle soup for dinner, which he’d eaten with crushed up saltine crackers, but he always found himself craving a snack before bed. It was almost ten o’clock, but he wasn’t yet tired.

When the episode ended, Steve stood and began to make his way toward the kitchen. He could go for one more coke before bed. But before he even made it out of the living room, a loud clatter from the back yard made him freeze. He turned, creeping slowly toward the glass door that overlooked the pool. It had sounded like it came from the shed, which sat beyond the pool deck, nestled almost among the trees. His hand shook as he reached up to flip on the back light. A part of him was convinced he would see a horrible monster racing up his yard toward the house, ready to devour him. But that was ridiculous. There was no such thing as monsters.

The yard was completely empty, the pool glowing an eerie green in the night. Steve scanned the perimeter until his eyes landed on the shed. Though it was dark, it looked as if the door was slightly ajar. Now, Steve knew the sensible thing to do was to ignore it until morning. But then he remembered that Kasie Jones, the girl who sat in front of him in math class, had found an injured mother cat behind her house just one month earlier. It was Springtime, she had said, which meant lots of animals would be having babies. If she hadn’t found them, the mother cat and her babies could have died. Steve couldn’t live with being responsible for that.

So, with only a mild amount of fear, he grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen drawer and slid open the glass door. It was early April, so while the days had grown warm, the nights still held a bit of a chill. Steve slid on his outdoor sandals and began to make his way across the yard. Everything was quiet now, except for the crickets. He approached the shed, tilting his head to see if he could hear any meowing. There was nothing.

It wasn’t until he was directly outside the shed that real fear began to prickle at the back of his neck once more. He was far enough from the house that if anything burst out and took chase, he likely wouldn’t make it back without getting caught. Steve took a deep breath and remembered what his dad was always telling him.

“Be a man. Real men don’t shake like little babies.”

Right. Be a man. He stepped forward and grabbed the edge of the door, which had been swaying slightly in the wind, and yanked it open. There wasn’t much inside the shed, just pool equipment and a few yard tools. Steve leaned inside, casting his light around for any sign of an injured cat. He took a step inside, letting the door swing partially shut behind him. The light caught on random items as he scanned. An old broken truck from when he was little, the pool noodles he liked to use when the weather was warm enough, a leaf blower, a pair of human eyes.

Steve screamed, his heart slamming up into his throat as he stumbled backward and dropped the flashlight. His back hit the wall and he fell, his legs giving out with the sheer force of terror he felt in that moment. There was someone else in the shed with him, someone curled up beneath the work bench on the far wall. The flashlight had rolled away from him, its beam pointed in the wrong direction for him to see. Steve glanced at the door, wondering how quickly he’d be grabbed if he made any sudden movements. A quiet voice spoke from the shadows.

“H-hey. It’s alright. You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”

That made Steve pause. Whoever it was sounded young, probably close to his age, and they also sound afraid. But what was another kid doing in his shed at night? Steve took a moment to let his heart rate slow before speaking again.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

For a few seconds it was silent, but then he spoke again. “Eddie. My name is Eddie. I was… I was just looking for a safe place to sleep.”

“To sleep?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow. “Why would you want to sleep in this dingy old shed? There are like, a hundred spiders in here, I’m pretty sure.”

He heard the other boy shift around a bit. “It’s better than outside.”

Well, maybe that was true, but it still didn’t explain much. Slowly, Steve moved onto his knees and crawled forward to grab his flashlight. This put him closer to the other boy, with Steve knelt in the middle of the small room. He raised the light until it fell on the other’s face.

Steve had been right that he seemed to be around his age. With dark curls that fell around his ears and big, pretty brown eyes, Eddie didn’t look like much of a threat at all. In fact, he seemed to be in bad shape. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and his cheeks looked a bit sunken in, as if he hadn’t eaten in a while. His knees were tucked up against his chest, but Steve could tell the jeans he wore were dirty and tattered.

“Are you homeless?” Which, okay, maybe that was a rude thing to ask, but Steve thought it was a fair question.

Eddie looked away, his brows lowering slightly. “I’m- I mean… Yeah, I guess so.”

Steve tilted his head. “Where are your parents?”

Something in Eddie’s expression became tight, before crumbling. “They’re dead. My mother died a year ago, my father just last month.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbled. That really sucked. He had never met someone who had lost both their parents. “Do you not have any other family?”

Eddie shook his head. “It’s just me.”

“Oh.” Steve shifted off his knees so he could cross his legs. “But, there are places you can go, aren’t there? Like, an orphanage or something? I could probably call the police and they could—”

“No!” Eddie snapped, his eyes darting up to Steve’s. “No, please, nobody can know about me.”

Steve frowned. That was definitely an odd reaction. “Why? Are you some sort of criminal?”

Eddie snorted, the corner of his lips twitching, as if he found that amusing. “No, not really.”

“Not really? Either you are or you aren’t.”

“I’m not,” Eddie insisted. “I’ve never hurt anybody that wasn’t trying to hurt me. But… There are people. Bad people, who would hurt me if they ever found me. So, I’ll leave if you want me to, but you can’t tell anyone about me.”

Steve stared at the other boy. His eyes were wide and serious, his mouth set into a hard line that told Steve he wasn’t joking. Whatever this kid was mixed up in was dangerous, he could tell that much. It would be smart for Steve to tell him to get lost, to find somewhere else to hide out. But, still. He didn’t want him to just leave.

“Where would you go? If I told you to leave, I mean.”

Eddie let out a breath, his shoulders dropping. “I don’t know. Maybe someone else’s shed. Maybe try and make my way to Indianapolis.”

Steve fiddled with his hands. “That sounds dangerous. You can’t go off to the city all by yourself. You’re just a kid, like me.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Eddie’s lips. “Not just like you. I can take care of myself.”

That struck Steve somewhere in his chest, the sentiment all too familiar. “Yeah, so can I, but that doesn’t mean you should have to. You should have someone to look after you.”

Eddie tilted his head, his eyes searching Steve’s face. “Are you always alone?”

“What? How- how do you know that?”

“Oh, um,” Eddie averted his eyes, suddenly looking a little bit guilty. “I’ve been here for a few days. I wasn’t trying to spy on you, but I saw that it’s just you in the house. Nobody else ever came or went, but you must have parents, right?”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I have parents. They just… they go out of town a lot for business. And I can’t go with them, because they don’t need a kid running around while they do work. But, it’s like, fine. I have the house all to myself, and I don’t have a bedtime, and I can eat whatever I want.”

Unlike all the other times Steve had told another kid this, Eddie didn’t look all that impressed. If anything, he looked sad. Which… was stupid. So stupid. Steve was lucky. He had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need some orphan, who clearly didn’t have anything this nice, feeling sorry for him.

Eddie rested his chin on his knees. “That sounds really lonely.”

A heavy pit settled in Steve stomach. Nobody else had ever acknowledged that before, and he didn’t really know what to do with it. His first instinct was to defend his parents, to tell Eddie that it was fine, and he didn’t know what he was talking about. But another part of Steve, a stronger part, felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It settled something inside Steve, hearing someone else say the words he’d been keeping locked inside for so long. It was validating.

Slowly, he nodded. “Yeah, it can be. But, that’s just the way it is.”

Eddie didn’t look convinced. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but before he could, a violent shudder shook his whole body. Steve’s eyes wide at the look of pain that crossed Eddie’s face and he hesitantly reached out a hand. Only, that seemed to make it worse, as Eddie flinched away from his touch.

“No, don’t come closer!” Eddie warned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve furrowed his brow. “Hurt me? Why would you hurt me?”

“No, I don’t want to, but… I haven’t eaten in a week. I’m afraid I won’t be able to control myself.”

A week? What the hell? That was way too long for a person to go without food! No wonder Eddie looked so sickly. He was starving to death.

“Hey, if you’re hungry, come inside with me. I can get you something to eat, no problem!”

But Eddie only shook his head, his face still pained. “No, Steve, it’s not… It’s not that simple. There’s nothing in your house I can eat. Well, nothing that I’ll allow myself to have.”

“What are you talking about?”

A look of resignation came over Eddie’s face. “Steve… I’m not- I’m not normal. You should leave. You don’t want me to come into your house with you.”

He really wasn’t making any sense now. Did Eddie think that just because he was homeless and without parents, he was undeserving of kindness? That was ridiculous. If anything, it made Steve want to help him even more. “Uh, yeah, I do. That’s why I invited you.”

His arms tightened around his legs, as if he were protecting himself. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie’s eyes flashed up to meet Steve’s. “Invite random strangers into your home. It’s dangerous.”

Steve snorted. “I don’t think you’re dangerous, Eddie. You look one minute from keeling over.”

“Yeah,” he said, letting out a humorless laugh. “And that makes it even worse.”

Alright, Steve was starting to grow tired of arguing about this. “Dude, come on. You have to eat something.”

Eddie made a little sound, like a whimper in the back of his throat, and closed his eyes. “If you knew the truth about me, you wouldn’t say that. If you knew the truth, you would run away. Or maybe even try to hurt me.”

“Whoa, hey, no. Eddie, I promise I won’t hurt you. I’m just trying to help.”

Outside the shed, it sounded like the wind began to pick up as the structure creaked ominously. Steve pulled his jacket more firmly around himself and couldn’t help but think that Eddie’s thin hoodie didn’t seem warm enough. Maybe Steve could give him some of his clothes. It’s not like his parents would ever notice. The look Eddie gave him when he opened his eyes was filled with sorrow.

“Yeah, I know. You seem really nice, Steve. And I’m afraid that if I come with you, I’ll hurt you without meaning to, and then I’ll be a monster, which I don’t want to be.”

Steve was trying to understand, he really was. People called him stupid sometimes, which he didn’t really agree with, but now he was struggling to follow what Eddie was saying. How could Eddie hurt him without meaning to?

“Eddie, I don’t understand. Please, you can tell me the truth. I won’t run away, I promise.”

Eddie shook his head, casting his big eyes down. “You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“Hey, look at me.” He waited until Eddie did, then scooted forward on his knees. Slowly, without making any sudden movement, he held up his pinky. “I pinky promise I won’t leave you. And I always keep my pinky promises.”

A hesitant smile grew on Eddie’s face, though he still seemed extremely uncertain. Finally, after what felt like forever, Eddie brought his pinky up and wrapped it around Steve’s. It was slightly shocking, just how cold Eddie was. Like his skin was just a thin layer of ice, molded around bones. That couldn’t be good. Steve really needed to get him inside. Before he could pull away, Eddie spoke.

“And I promise to do my very best not to hurt you.”

Steve grinned. “Well, there you go. So, go on then. Tell me what the problem is.”

Eddie sighed, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth. “Okay, I guess I might as well. I don’t have anything else to lose. Um, have you… have you heard of vampires?”

“Vampires?” Steve asked, scrunching up his nose. “What, like Dracula? Or The Count on Sesame Street?”

Eddie snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I mean sort of. But also, no. What if… what if vampires were real?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I don’t understand. Vampires aren’t real, so what does that have to do with anything?”

A look of frustration crossed Eddie’s face. “Steve. I’m trying to tell you. Vampires are real. I know, because I am one.”

For several seconds, Steve didn’t speak. The only sound to be heard was the shifting of trees outside and the quiet breathing of the two boys. Finally, Steve let out a laugh.

“Yeah, right, okay. Look, I don’t know why you don’t want to tell me—”

“Steve—”

“But it’s fine, I guess. You don’t have to trust me, I guess.”

“Steve, I am telling you the truth! See, this is another reason I didn’t want to tell you. Humans never believe in anything beyond what they see in the daylight.”

“Oh, come on,” Steve said, dropping back off his knees to sit on his butt. “I get it, you’re trying to prank me, for whatever reason. But I can’t help you unless I know the truth. Or at least until you tell me what the real problem is. You’re not a vampire.”

“I am!” Eddie insisted, the corners of his lips turning down in a frown. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

At this point, Steve was getting a little bit annoyed. The joke wasn’t that funny. He was cold, and the dirt on the cement floor was digging into his backside, and he really just wanted to get back inside. So, with a jeering smirk, he leaned forward.

“Yeah, sure, go ahead. Prove that you’re a vampire.”

Eddie didn’t move at first, just continued to stare at Steve with his too big eyes. It was a little unnerving, to be honest, the way he didn’t seem to blink or even move. And then, in a flash of movement too fast to be humanly possible, Eddie shot forward. Steve flinched at the unexpected movement, falling back onto his elbows with a small shout of surprise. He half expected to be attacked, to maybe feel Eddie’s hand around his throat or a fist against his cheek. But it never came.

Slowly, Steve opened his eyes. Only, Eddie was nowhere to be seen. The spot beneath the bench was empty, and when Steve looked around, he didn’t see Eddie anywhere. Had he slipped out the door and run away? Why? Steve didn’t understand. But then, Eddie spoke.

“Steve. I’m up here.”

A chill ran down Steve’s back, some primal part of him that had been dormant waking up at hearing the voice from above. Slowly, Steve tilted his head back. What he saw defied all explanation. Eddie was on the ceiling. He was crouched upside down, his hands gripping the wood beam and his feet planted flat on the roof. Eddie blinked down at him, his hair dangling away from his face.

Steve opened his mouth to scream, a natural response he thought. But before he could utter a sound, Eddie was off the ceiling. He landed on top of Steve, his hand pressed firm to his mouth to stop any sound from escaping and his other hand holding Steve to the ground. For a wiry looking kid, he was sure strong.

“Please, Steve, don’t scream,” Eddie begged, his wide eyes earnest. “I promised not to hurt you, and I won’t. You’re safe with me, okay?”

For a few seconds, all Steve could do was stare up at him. He shouldn’t believe him, logically he knew that. Vampires drank blood, human blood, which Steve had. But if Eddie had wanted to hurt him, surely, he would have already. He could even do it right now. Steve was trapped beneath him, his movement completely restricted. So, slowly, Steve nodded. Eddie chewed his lip, before removing his hand. Steve took a few deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart.

“Holy crap. You’re like, a real vampire?”

Eddie nodded, still looking concerned. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Wow. How long have you been a vampire for?”

“Uh, my whole life?” Eddie said with a chuckle.

Steve frowned. “Wait, what? But I thought vampires were made by being bitten.”

Eddie finally climbed off Steve, sitting cross legged in front of him while Steve sat up and matched his position. “Yeah, some. Some vampires are humans who were turned. But others, like me, were born as vampires. Both of my parents were vampires, and they had me.”

Huh. Steve had never heard of anything like that before. “But what about, like, mirrors and blood drinking and stuff?”

“Eh, I mean, most of the stuff humans know about vampires was made up by them. Except for the blood drinking, that’s true.”

“What about sunlight?”

Eddie scrunched up his nose. “Well, I won’t burst into flames if I’m exposed to it. But it does sting my skin and hurt my eyes, so I avoid it if possible.”

Steve nodded, taking that it. “So, that’s why you’re hiding out here in my shed?”

Eddie nodded.

“Hmm, ok. Well, you know, you might be more comfortable inside the house.”

“You… would invite me into your house? Even knowing what I am?”

Steve shrugged. “Yeah, why not? I believe that you won’t hurt me, and it doesn’t sound like you have anywhere else to go. Plus, I’m getting pretty cold.”

He pushed himself to his feet and held his hand out for Eddie, who hesitated. He looked unsure, and maybe a little bit afraid, though Steve couldn’t imagine of what. It wasn’t like he was going to hurt Eddie. When Eddie didn’t immediately take his hand, Steve gave it a shake.

“Come on. It’s okay.”

Finally, Eddie reached up and took it. Steve hoisted him up, then still holding his hand, led him out of the shed. Eddie looked around as they crossed the yard, as if afraid someone was going to pop out and do a sneak attack. They got to the sliding glass door and Steve pushed it open, stepping into the wonderfully warm living room. He tried to pull Eddie in after him, but the other boy hesitated on the threshold.

“What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure? Are you sure you want to invite me in? Once you do, you can’t take it back.”

Steve sighed. “Eddie, I don’t understand. You promised you won’t hurt me, and I’m not going to hurt you, so what’s the problem?”

Eddie chewed on his bottom lip. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to help myself. It’s just… I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten anything in almost a week, and you… you smell really good. And I don’t want to hurt you, I promise. But what if I lose control?”

Steve blinked a few times. Oh. He hadn’t really considered that. “And… you need to drink blood? That’s all you eat?”

Timidly, Eddie nodded.

“Right. Okay. Well, maybe I could give you a little bit of my blood, just to hold you over, and then—”

“No!” Eddie shouted, ripping his hand out of Steve’s. “No, Steve, please don’t offer me that. I’m too hungry, I know I won’t be able to stop once I’ve started. I’ll kill you, and then… then I really will be a monster.”

Steve chewed his lip, wavering in the doorway. “What do you normally do when you’re hungry?”

“I hunt animals, usually. But… I waited too long. I’m too weak to catch anything on my own now.”

Right. That made sense. Steve was a little relieved to hear that Eddie usually hunted animals. If he could only drink human blood, they would definitely be in a bit of a pickle.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, “Tonight, you’ll come in and sleep somewhere cozy. You won’t kill me or try to drink my blood. Tomorrow I’ll skip school and go to the butcher in town. I know they stock cow blood, because my nana bought some a few years ago to make this really gross pudding.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open slightly. “You’d do that? You’d really go out of your way to help me?”

Steve grinned wide, taking his hand once more. “Of course! We’re both on our own right now, so we should look after each other, shouldn’t we? And my parents left me plenty of money for snacks and stuff, so they won’t even notice if I use it for something else.”

There was something warring in Eddie’s big brown eyes, a well of emotion that Steve couldn’t guess at. All he knew was that he wanted to help Eddie, and so he was going to. When Eddie still didn’t make any move to come inside, Steve tugged gently on his hand.

“Come on. I’m inviting you inside. You’ll be okay.”

Eddie took a deep breath, then nodded, as though coming to a decision. Hesitantly, he stepped forward, bringing one foot over the threshold. He stared down at his foot, as if half expecting it to burst into flames. Could that happen? Steve really hoped not. Finally, Eddie brought his other foot inside. Steve smiled, nodding encouragingly.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He slid the glass door shut behind them and locked it before closing the curtains. Eddie had wandered a few more paces in, standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. His baggy sweatshirt hung loosely from his limbs, and in the light, Steve could see smudges of dirt on the other boys face. It must have been a long time since he’d had a bath.

“Do you want to use my shower before bed?”

Eddie glanced at him over his shoulder, his brow furrowing. “Are you saying I stink?”

“What? No! No, I wouldn’t say that, I promise! It’s just—”

He stopped when he saw Eddie chuckling. “I’m only joking. I do smell. That’s what happens when you live in the woods for a couple weeks.”

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny. Come on, follow me.”

He shut off the tv as they passed it by before switching off the lights and leading Eddie to the stairs. The other boy followed close behind, and when Steve turned to look at him, saw he was taking everything in.

“This place is like a castle,” Eddie murmured.

“Eh, not really. Castle’s have a lot more people in them. It’s just me here.”

“Why don’t your parents want to live here?”

“They do!” Steve said, defensive. “They do live here. They just… go on a lot of business trips. They’re super busy.”

Eddie hummed, not commenting on it any further, which Steve was grateful for. He didn’t want to talk about his parents. All that ever did was make him sad, and he wasn’t in the mood to feel sad. He had a vampire in his house. A vampire who might want to be his friend. He couldn’t entirely wrap his head around it.

They reached the second landing and Steve led Eddie down the hall to his room. He flicked on the light and moved to sit on the bed, watching Eddie as he looked around the room. For some reason, the corners of Eddie’s mouth turned down in a frown.

“What, you don’t like my room?”

Eddie shrugged, walking to stand beside his dresser with the ribbons he’d won at his school’s field day. “It’s not very… you, is it?”

“What do you mean.”

“I don’t know. Where are the pictures? The posters of your favorite bands and movies? Where’s the mess?”

Steve looked around, forcing himself to see his room from someone else’s perspective. “My mom doesn’t like messes. And I just, I don’t know, haven’t really thought about adding anything to the walls.

Eddie hummed again. “Well, you should. Give this checkered monstrosity a little life.”

“Hey, it’s not that bad.”

“It sort of is. Let me guess, your mom picked it out?”

Steve rolled his eyes. Eddie sure was a lot sassier now that he’d come inside. Hopefully that meant he felt comfortable. “Yeah, so? I don’t mind it, so why does it matter?”

Eddie held up his hands. “Hey, as long as you like it.”

“Right. Well, if you want to take a shower, it’s right through that door,” he said, motioning to his on-suite. “I’ll put a towel and some pajamas you can borrow on the counter for when you get out.”

“Yeah, ok, cool.”

Eddie stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Steve alone to sit on his bed. Right, this was totally normal and okay. He had a vampire in his house, one that was apparently his age and who had nowhere else to go. If his parents found out, they’d flip. Luckily, they weren’t home, so there was no need to worry about that. Unless… well, unless Eddie decided he wanted to stay. Surely being here would be better than going to the city alone, to ask a bunch of creepy older vampires if he could live with them. That sounded pretty terrifying, if you asked Steve.

Because really, what could they have that Steve didn’t? Did they have a twenty-seven-inch screen tv? No, he doubted it. Would they have a pool, or a whole forest behind their house for privacy? In the city? Yeah, he didn’t think so. Which, okay, maybe he was getting ahead of himself. He had just met Eddie, he couldn’t ask him to stay with him. Even if he wanted to.

It would be pretty cool to have someone else his age who lived in his house, though. Someone who wouldn’t leave on trips for most of the month. Someone he could watch tv with and play games with and stay up talking to. It would be like having a live in friend. That sounded… that sounded really nice.

Steve was jolted from his thoughts at the sound of something clattering in the shower.

“Sorry!” Eddie shouted. “Dropped the shampoo.”

Ah, right, he needed to get Eddie a towel and some clothes. He grabbed one of his fluffiest towels from the cupboard and then took out his second favorite set of pajamas. He’d gotten them from his grandma last Christmas, and they had Snoopy on them. Trying to be as quiet as he could, he placed the items on the bathroom counter before scurrying out again.

The water turned off a few minutes later. Steve climbed into bed to wait, pulling the blankets up and leaving his bedside lamp on. The door opened and Eddie stepped out. Despite being a year older than Steve, the pajamas still hung a little loose on him. His dark curls dripped on his shoulders as he looked around.

When he spoke, he sounded unsure. “So, um, is there another bed I can take? Or I can lay on the floor if you want, I don’t mind.”

Steve scrunched up his nose. “What? I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor. My bed is plenty big, just sleep with me.”

Eddie hesitated, but after it became clear that Steve was serious, made his way to the other side of the bed. “You really don’t mind sleeping next to me? Even knowing what I am?”

“I already told you I don’t. But, I mean, if it’ll be a problem for you, you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s just, I probably won’t sleep. I usually sleep during the day, so I’ll probably sit here until I feel tired. Which, yeah, will probably be when you’re waking up.”

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t considered that. “Right. Well, you can go downstairs and watch tv if you want. I’ve got lots of movies.”

Eddie bit his lip, the unnatural sharpness to his fangs all the more obvious in the lowlight of the bedroom. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll just lay here with you. I think I’ll feel too weird, sitting downstairs by myself.”

Steve wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that was secretly what he’d been hoping Eddie would do. He’d been to his fair share of sleepovers, and while he loved a lot of different aspects of them, his favorite was falling asleep next to another person. The feeling of closeness, of safety, that being close to another person brought… there wasn’t really anything else like it. So, Steve wasted no time in pulling back the blanket on Eddie’s side of the bed and urging him to climb in. Only once they were both laying down, with only a few inches between them, did Steve finally shut off the light.

It was late, way later that Steve normally went to bed on a school night. At least he’d already decided he wouldn’t be going into school tomorrow. He would still wake up early, so that he had enough time to bike down to the butcher and get back before Eddie woke up. Despite all the excitement of having a new vampire friend, Steve felt the unavoidable pull of sleep as he snuggled further into his blankets. Before he could drift off, however, Eddie’s voice came from right beside his ear.

“Steve?”

He blinked an eye open, unable to make out the shape of the other boy, having closed the curtains to protect Eddie from the early morning sun. “Hmm?”

For a few seconds, it was quiet. Steve almost wondered if he’d imagined Eddie’s voice, until the other boy spoke again. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he murmured.

“For helping me. For letting me into your house. For… for just being a good person. I don’t know very many off those.”

Steve hummed, smiling sleepily. “Me either. I guess we’ll just have to be good to each other.”

A puff of breath ghosted across Steve’s cheek, leading him to believe Eddie was even closer than he’d thought. He could probably see Steve perfectly, with his superior vampire vision. The thought should scare him. It didn’t.

“Yeah,” Eddie said quietly. “I guess we will.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he said anything else after that, as he drifted off. But when he dreamed of a creature hiding beneath his bed that night, it wasn’t a nightmare. Because he knew, despite what the movies told him, that this monster wouldn’t hurt him.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve and eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #My writing #this is heavily inspired by the mid 2000s film Let Me In #I posted this once before but hardly any one saw it #so posting it again

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stoneyghoul · 2 years

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#Snacks #stoner #milkshake #black and white #checkered #springtime #sunshine

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alwritey-aphrodite · 2 months

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❛ aw, did you miss me? ❜ w tasm peter maybe? like maybe if reader hasn’t seen him all day not necessarily after a while

do whatever u feel like w it!:)

Springtime is always the busiest time of year, and it has been for as long as you can remember. As a child, it was play dates and picnics and the thrill of an upcoming summer, and now it’s essays and hours studying and a scramble to find a job. It’s a shame the weather is so nice, because you rarely get a chance to spend an hour outside.

After your classes had all ended for the day, you’d holed yourself up in the library, trying to wrap up one of your essays to make your workload just a little bit lighter. By the time you finish your last proofread, your eyes ache from staring at your computer screen and the sun is starting to set, painting the sky in milky pinks and vibrant oranges. Even though it’ll take longer than the subway, you start walking home in an attempt to enjoy at least a little of the wonderful weather, bopping along to the music in your headphones as you try not to think about anything assignment related.

The day, and the week, had been draining, and all you want to do is curl up on the couch with your dinner, preferably something you don’t have to cook, before laying in bed and sleeping for the foreseeable future. You’re mentally flipping through your pantry to see what cereal you’ve kept in stock as you dig out your keys, and you can’t help the slump of your shoulders when you finally unlock the door.

“Perfect timing!” Peter says upon your entrance, and you’re so shocked that he’s in your apartment that you pay no attention to the takeout containers he’s unloading for a plastic bag, nor to the pile of DVDs and snacks on the coffee table in front of your TV.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask as you slide your backpack from your shoulders, tossing it to the ground. You’re sure you sound rude and a bit ungrammatical, but you’re mostly just shocked. It’s been a few days since you and Peter have been able to see each, each of your hectic schedules making it near impossible to have a moment to spare, so you’ve been confined to texts and calls and that one time he was leaving the library just as you came in.

“Thought you’d need to eat,” he responds as he turns back to the absurd amount of takeout spread across your small kitchen table. Now that you’re not working in overdrive, you’re able to appreciate just how delicious everything smells and just how exhausted you are. Crossing the room, you’re almost unthinking as you wrap your arms around Peter’s waist, setting your head in the space between his shoulder blades. You can feel him breathing, deep and steady and calm, and you close your eyes and do your best to follow along.

“Aw, did you miss me?” He asks, and you can hear the teasing smile in his voice even without seeing his face. You just nod in response, and you know that Peter can feel the motion against his back because he laughs, and you feel the deep rumble against your ear. He pats your arms where they connect on his stomach, “C’mon, let’s eat and watch a movie and not think about our impending doom.”

Detaching yourself from him, you laugh and make your way to the couch, letting Peter take care of you like he wants, like you need. Its nice, to not have to think about feeding yourself or about how you haven’t seen Peter in a while or about how many assignments you still need to finish before your final exams in a week. Here, in your little cocoon of an apartment, it’s just you and Peter and your favorite takeout, cuddled up on your couch as you start what Peter had billed as a comfort movie marathon.

You fall asleep before the first film is even over, warm and comfortable and full, your head resting against Peter’s shoulder and your legs stretched out along the couch. Peter follows close behind, debating whether or not to carry you to bed but ultimately deciding he’s far too comfortable and you look far too peaceful to be disturbed even the slightest bit. You’re more relaxed than you’ve been in weeks, even when you wake up with a crick in your neck.

#tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm fanfiction #tasm!peter imagine #tasm peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction

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cherhys · 1 year

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Anything, Always

Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand has been running himself ragged, and it hasn’t escaped your notice. In an effort to quell old nightmares, Rhysand has an interesting suggestion…

Word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Mild angst (pining + UTM reminder whoops), Feelings™️

Notes: The longest fic to date! I was working on some Azriel WIPs when this piece just happened. I wanted Rhys to get some well-deserved, utterly devoted, loving. Thank you for all the support so far; it means more than you know! ♡

You noticed that as the week has passed, you’ve seen less and less of Rhys around the townhouse. First, it was less frequented dinners, followed by mornings spent alone. Being High Lord is no easy task, but it’s all the more reason for you to lend a helping hand where possible. Instead, all of your offers have been promptly shut down with a wry smile leaving little room for argument since it's nothing more than I usually deal with, darling.

His words echo in your head as you approach his office, the ease with which he said them in juxtaposition with the dark circles beneath his eyes. You doubt he’s been sleeping very well; it was no secret that the High Lord preferred staying up in the evenings, but he always reclaimed that sleep the following morning. Recently you’ve observed his absence from the townhouse in favour of training even before Cassian, the earliest morning bird you know. This simply could not go on—he had to take care of himself. A male like him deserved better than that.

The door to his study was closed and after a brief knock, you slowly cracked it open to peer inside. His head didn’t so much as lift from where he was scanning his papers, a crease between his ink-dark eyebrows. The evening light filtered through the windows behind him, casting him in an iridescent glow befitting his title. He had changed into a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal solid tan forearms corded with prominent veins. He scrubbed a calloused hand along his uncharacteristically scruffy jaw. The usual sparkle in his jewel-tone eyes was lost to his evident lack of sleep.

Despite this, he was still the most beautiful male you’ve ever beheld. Even feeling ragged, Rhysand was nothing short of magnificent. No amount of stress could take away from his plush lips, the delicate column of his neck, and the elegant sweep of his collarbones leading to the strong planes of his chest. The age-old flutter in your chest surfaced, a delicate thing you had neglected for so long.

“You can come in, darling.” Finally, those tired eyes lifted to yours where you stood in the doorway. When you don’t move he sweeps a hand towards the cushioned chairs before his rich mahogany desk. You quash any semblance of that flutter until a deep void is all that remains in your chest; a talent you had mastered after all these years.

“I’d say I’m surprised to find my dearest High Lord secluded in his office on a Friday evening, but I made an oath not to lie.” You idle your way in, running your finger along the books on his shelf. You frown at the faint layer of dust over his more loved collections.

“Well, Friday evening or not, doesn’t my dearest advisor have work to do instead of chatting me up like some girl at Rita’s?” Like a delicate brush stroke, his ebony brow arched. Rhysand’s eyes tracked your approach as you walked around the spacious office, feet padding against the soft carpet. The snack you had brought him earlier remained untouched on his desk, and you clenched your clasped hands behind your back.

“Girls at bars aren't worth my time, though it wouldn’t hurt for you to try. All you do is hide away here; you’ll have the year-end papers done at this rate.”

He shrugged, nonchalant, “Better to be more prepared than found lacking, no?”

You stopped before his desk and stared, “It’s only springtime Rhysand.” At your unflinching gaze, he sighed.

“I was unimpressed with some of the projections submitted by the Court of Nightmares. Sloppy work.” His jaw worked in time to the pulse in his neck. You nodded, acquiescing as much. As Rhysand’s advisor, you were expressly aware of the substandard documents that Kier had submitted. Despite his abysmal summation of the Court of Nightmare’s projections, Kier could receive a verbal (or literal) lashing later.

“Rhys, this isn’t an express concern at the moment.” He dropped his head back to his papers, dipping the fountain pen in the inkwell. The sound of your breathing and scratching on parchment permeated the silence. The dismissal was clear, though surprisingly cruel from your usual playful High Lord.

“Rhys, look at me.” Despite your pleading tone, he remained fixed on his writing. In a few swift steps, you rounded the desk. You placed a gentle hand beneath his chin, lifting his face to your searching eyes. Where his silence was defiant, now there is only weariness.

“Rhysand… what’s wrong honey?” The endearment slips out, but your chest constricts at the sight of the defeated male before you. You miss your charming friend. Your thumb lightly caresses his cheek and his lashes flutter at the sensation. He gives you a wry smile and grips your fingers in his warm hand, “Nothing is wrong. I’m only a little tired.”

You breathed deeply, willing yourself to remain calm. Rhysand was known to undertake everything by himself, an expression of his love towards his family. While you appreciate the care he tries to show, his selflessness couldn’t happen at the expense of his well-being. This was something different.

Your silence unnerved the usually unshakeable male, and he seemed to deflate under your scrutiny. So you waited—let him process his thoughts, choose what he wanted to say.

When his grip tightened on your hand but his silence persisted, you offered an olive branch.

“I have never been able to share my feelings with ease; to feel so much… it is an overwhelming burden. And yet–” You took a steadying breath, hesitant to reveal so much but unable to help him understand otherwise. His expectant gaze was patient, if not encouraging.

“And yet, unravelling my feelings and sharing them with you is effortless. With you, I know I am safe. That I am understood. Rhysand, I want to be that person for you. You are welcome to share, and I will always be there to listen.”

When you finished, you shifted to perch on the desk space poised between his legs. Rhysand unconsciously moved his chair closer, his head pressing into your jointly entwined hands. He slowly inhaled, the scent of you a balm to his fraying senses.

“They’re back. She’s back,” Rhys didn’t need to elaborate on who and what for you to catch his meaning. You had known that nightmares plagued him often in the time since his return from Under the Mountain. Years had passed since then but the horrors he endured were not easily forgotten, “I don’t know what to do.”

The defeat in his tone nearly brought tears to your eyes, but you reigned them in—this was his opportunity to be vulnerable and you must remain strong.

“I think about all of the lives I–... I think about all of it, often. It is never not on my mind, but I can usually move past it. You all help,” At this, he squeezed your palm again, an earnest look in his violet eyes, “But sometimes the guilt–” He loosed a sigh, shaking his head, “It is unbearable.’

Rhysand pulled his hand away from yours, leaving it cold. He stared down at his hands between you both as if all of his sins were still visible. To him, you’re sure they were.

His voice was lowered to a whisper now, “When I sleep, she taunts me. She stokes that guilt from an ember to a flame and eats away at me. All I can think to do is run myself ragged, in some form of masochistic repenting.”

Rhys glances up at you, his heart dropping when he sees your eyes are closed. Even you couldn’t bear to look at him after what he had done. Clenching his jaw, he begins to pull away and prepares for your imminent disgust.

He doesn’t expect you to grip his cheeks, and pull him back to you. Rhysand’s eyes are comically large this close, your noses a hair's breadth away from touching. He has never seen your mouth set in such a serious line, your eyes blazing with such fire.

“Listen to me very closely. Everything you did? It was necessary for survival. For yours. For the Night Court’s. For our family’s. It is only normal to feel guilt—that’s what makes you the wonderful, kind male I know.” Your hands pressed almost painfully, as if you could physically push the words into his head, “But you should never regret what you did. Because it brought you back to us.” To me, but you left that part unspoken.

When he seems to hesitate you reinforce, “Any of us would’ve done it for you. If I could've traded places with you I would have done so in a heartbeat, Rhysand. And it kills me to see you blame yourself. You can repay those you mourn by living your life to the fullest in their honour.”

He regards you for a moment, plush lip pulled tightly between his teeth. Rhysand nods slowly at your searching stare, the sorrow clearing from his eyes like clouds in a bright night sky. Those stars you so love wink back at you from his midnight gaze.

Unable to help yourself, you swoop him up into your tight embrace. Rhys’s strong arms wrap around you in no time, his head at your breast. He can hear the rapid but sure beating of your heart and it brings him a peace that he hasn’t felt since the nightmares returned.

“Thank you.” His soft words lift your heart and you place a swift kiss on the top of his head.

“Always.”

You stroke his raven hair in soothing motions, running your nails lightly along his scalp. Rhys visibly relaxes in your hold, his shoulders slumping with a weight unloaded. You dare to enjoy the moment, knowing that the likes of these are few and far between; you seldom let yourself get this close, the ache in your heart too much.

Finally, you pull away, a determined look on your face, “How can I help you, Rhys?”

His face softened, and he let out a light chuckle, “I doubt you can, darling. This is just one of those things.”

“It most certainly will not be one of those things. There has to be something; maybe if we help you relax? A sleeping draught?”

He winced at that, “No sleeping draughts, preferably. I’m not fond of drugging myself.”

You scratched your chin, “No, that doesn’t seem sustainable long term.”

While you brainstormed ideas to help the male before you, Rhys glanced at you through thick lashes. He had begun to fiddle with the fountain pen, twisting the top, “I think I may have a suggestion.”

You snapped out of your thoughts, “Already? What is it?” A beaming smile stretched across your face—anything. You would do anything to help him.

He locked his eyes on yours, voice level, “Sleep with me.”

You blinked, unmoving. You stared at him a few seconds longer, the words failing to process. You’re sure you must have stopped breathing, the thumping of your heart overwhelming your senses.

Sleep with me.

A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, “I’m sorry? ‘Sleep with you’?”

A million thoughts were spinning in your head, each faster than the last. Slick skin on skin; hands fisted in sheets, in hair, scratching down a tan, tatted back; clothes haphazardly strewn around the room; pleasurable pants filling the air. You shook your head. Surely you had misheard? Misunderstood?

A cocky smile spread across Rhysand’s face, although the dusting of pink crawling up his neck isn't lost on you.

What dirty thoughts are you thinking, darling? That midnight voice lightly caressed your mental shields.

Your cheeks were flaming if the heat under your skin was anything to go by. You persevered and pursed your lips in mock irritation. You would not be undone by his aimless teasing after all these years.

Nothing that would involve the likes of you, the thought pushed right back at his adamantine mental shield.

Rhysands thick lashes lowered, his bottom lip jutting slightly. You wondered what those plush lips would taste like. Although you knew he was playing at seducing you, it didn’t stop the primal need in you from rearing its ugly head.

Would it truly be so bad with me, darling? You know I’d treat you well.

Your lashes fluttered; this had to stop before your heart wilted any further in your chest.

“What is your real suggestion Rhys?” The serious cock of your brows sobered him up near immediately. The twinge in his chest only further cooled him; the way you brushed his teasing off irritated him for reasons beyond what he dared admit.

“It is my real suggestion. I struggle with my sleep—therefore having you there will help.” The cool way he spoke, as if this was only a logical solution, helped to put you at ease. But you couldn’t help but wonder—

“Why me? How would I help?”

He shrugged, “You seem peaceful.”

Your mind whirred at his laconic response. ‘Peaceful’? You couldn’t decide what to make of the situation, but one thing had always been clear.

“I said I’d help you, however I could. If you believe me… sleeping beside you will be beneficial, then I’ll do it.”

He nodded, the same calm look plastered on his face. Rhysand’s nonchalant manner bothered you: did this genuinely mean so little to him? If so, then you would treat it with the same aloof, professional fashion.

“Alright then, we can try tonight if you’re willing?”

His ink-dark eyebrows shot up, “You wish to begin right away?”

“The sooner the better, no?” You couldn’t allow any more sleepless nights; the faster you determined whether this would work, the more time you had to find different options before Rhys ran on empty.

Rhysand’s head tilted, a panther sizing up its prey. Finally, he nodded in agreeance.

Quickly, you stood from his desk, realizing you were still perched between his legs. You dusted off your skirts and swiftly moved to the door. With a hand on the frame, you turned, “Tonight in yours?”

He swallowed, your eyes tracking the bobbing of his Adam's apple along his smooth neck, “Yes, that’ll work just fine darling.”

You stepped away from his office, the final, sure look in Rhysand’s eyes burning through you even hours later.

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

You nervously tugged on your silken sleep shorts, psyching yourself up to knock on Rhysand’s bedroom door.

After leaving his office earlier, your heart had been in your throat all day. Even at dinner in the House of Wind, you’d had to be snapped out of thought multiple times by members of your family. While circumventing the reason why you had been so inattentive, your friends spared no insult and pestered you to high hell. Your face had flushed, sure that Rhysand could pick up on your nervousness. Instead, there were no teasing comments; he only returned to his meal.

Now before his room, you took a steadying breath and lightly knocked, in the unlikely event he had fallen asleep. At his faint call you entered, softly shutting the door behind you. The room was aptly decorated for a High Lord. Rich jewel tones complimented Night Court black in various opulent fabrics. Pointedly ignoring the massive bed, you took in the polished mahogany furniture, surely crafted by a masterful hand. From the intricately designed rugs, to the velvet cushions, and the elaborate drapery; it was all magnificent. However, it all paled in comparison to the male inhabiting the room.

Rhys was lounging on a plush divan, drink and papers in hand, looking fresh from the finest of paintings. The loose shirt from earlier was gone, baring his muscled chest. Your eyes tracked along the elegant dark swirls that decorated his tan skin. A pair of black sleep pants adorned his lower body, looking dangerously low on his waist. As you gently padded over, you tried not to focus on the light smattering of dark hair leading below the band. He glanced up at you, violet eyes sparkling like the stars visible through the windows beyond him.

His eyes slowly roved over your figure, noting your bare legs; how you clutched your cream robe, book in hand, a delicate lacy strap peeking out. He took a restrained sip of his amber drink. You settled on a comfortable settee across from him, the book already splayed across your lap.

“Good evening, darling. Care for a drink?” He waved his glass lightly, the ice clinking softly.

You chuckled, shaking your head, “I’m alright, thank you. Is it not a little late to indulge?”

He inspected his drink as if he might find the solution to all his problems within the crystal glass, “I find it soothes the nerves.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Are you nervous?”

Rhys lifted the drink to his mouth, only to gaze at you over the rim with heavy-lidded eyes, “With you? Always, darling. I mean—you simply strike such an imposing figure.”

You dramatically placed the back of your hand to your head, draping yourself over the settee with all the theatrics you could muster, “Oh, how I plague man with my beauty!”

A deep and joyous laugh broke the silence of the night. You glanced over at Rhysand in slight surprise to see his head thrown back, a hand to his chest. Your heart warmed at the clear mirth on his face. This was the Rhysand you had missed. You soon joined him, your laugh bubbling up with the vigour of a freshly opened champagne bottle.

Gradually, you both settled into silence, and with a wink from Rhys, you both returned to your previous occupations. The cool breeze from the open window carried with it Rhysand’s citrus and sea smell, the faint note of jasmine like a goodnight’s kiss. You basked in the peaceful mood, snuggling closer to the settee with your book. You couldn’t help but look up at Rhys every few pages, taking in his striking profile as the ambient lighting cast shadows across his elegant features. Eventually, you noticed his eyelids beginning to droop and knew he was only stalling the inevitable.

You yawned loudly, covering your mouth for effect, “I think it’s time we retire for the night.”

He smiled, gently placing his empty glass and papers aside, “I agree, darling. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Rhysand stood and stretched his arms over his head, and you quickly made your way over to his bed, refusing to stare any longer at his chest than necessary. You shed your robe and tossed it over a nearby chair while you both silently readied yourselves for bed. No longer was the silence comforting—instead, your heart threatened to burst from your chest.

You didn't realize how stiff you were until Rhys settled under the covers beside you, the shroud of night concealing your reddened cheeks. You remained rigid, arms at your side like a soldier at attention.

It’s only me, darling. The smooth voice slipped through the cracks of your mind. Rhysand’s low timber reminded you to take a deep breath—you turned towards him and lightly reached your hand out in the space between your pillows. Even in the stygian dark, his eyes shone brighter than ever. That midnight gaze fixed on your open palm. Slowly, he crept his large hand up and brought it to yours, strong fingers caressing your palm. You held your breath as he steadily entwined his fingers with yours, hand sliding across your own. You squeezed lightly in assurance, your eyes falling shut.

Before the throes of sleep could claim you, a gentle caress to your conscience pulled you back.

Can I hold you?

The whispered request was nearly lost in the haze between waking and dreams, but you would always come back for that voice. Beyond words, you pushed your consent to Rhysand’s mind.

Strong arms gently slid around you, pulling your back to a hard chest. Your synced breathing within that warm embrace finally lulled you to a peaceful sleep.

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

Light filtering through the window assaults your eyes, bringing with it the realities of the morning. You stretch like a cat in the sun, silken sheets sliding across your bare legs. You hadn’t slept like that in years, Cauldron, centuries even. The sweet haze lingering from your sleep washed away once you noticed the empty—albeit still warm—bedside. You quickly sat up only to be interrupted by Rhysand waltzing in through the doors, breakfast in hand.

“Good morning, darling. I hope you’re hungry—I’m loving the bedhead by the way.” He swooped over to the bed, deftly handling the large tray in hand as he settled back beside you. You swiftly patted your hair down, “Yes, good morning Rhysand.”

Your dry tone didn’t damper Rhys’s wide smirk one bit. He was glowing this morning with an air of contentment; the full night's sleep had done him well.

He gestured to the amalgamation of various foods before you, “I wasn’t sure what you would be craving, so I grabbed a little bit of everything.” The delicious smell wafted before you, your stomach grumbling without consent.

“If this is how I’m treated, I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” You popped a berry into your mouth, relishing its succulent flavour.

“Consider it a thank you,” You paused, buttered toast halfway to your mouth, at Rhysand’s words, “For giving me, perhaps, the best sleep I have had in my five centuries.”

The earnest look in his eyes prompted you to butter your toast more vigorously, hoping he would miss the rosy flush seeping across your features.

“For what it’s worth, I’ve never slept better either,” You smiled gently, hoping to not sound too heartfelt in your admission, “And there is no reason to thank me, Rhys. You know I’d do anything for you.”

You held your breath at the candid confession, praying he did not understand the real meaning behind your words.

Instead, his chest swelled with emotion. He brought his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a swift kiss to your hair.

“All the more reason for me to thank you, darling.”

♡𝌀𝌀𝌀♥𝌀𝌀𝌀♡

The next few weeks continued much like that night; you would both lounge around in the evening and then retire to bed. Only, your inclination towards one another had become irresistible. The moment you got beneath the covers, you found yourself instinctually reaching for Rhysand’s embrace. Often, he held you close, your head poised at his soft neck. Occasionally, on the more difficult nights, you would swaddle Rhys tightly to your chest, caressing his hair as he was lulled to sleep by your steady heartbeat.

However much you enjoyed your time in bed with Rhysand, you couldn’t deny the increasing difficulty with which to hide your escalating feelings. What were once mere fleeting glances, were now lingering stares; no dark circles were to be found on his handsome face, his beaming grin a drug that would surely consume you. Rather than have the moments together soothe your ache like a balm, you only craved his attention more so.

As you both fell into your usual routine for the night and settled under the covers, you finally ripped the bandage from the festering wound.

“I think I may sleep in my bed beginning tomorrow night.”

Rhysand’s body froze beneath your touch, his arms still only half around you. Quickly, you continued, “Your nightmares seem to have passed—which I am eternally grateful for—therefore I don’t see any reason why I should continue to sleep here.” With you, the words didn’t need to be spoken; they loomed in the air around you.

A beat of silence passed before he spoke, “Why not?”

You gasped as he seized you closer to his chest. His breath was heaving while he squeezed you tighter in his arms. You quashed the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach, reluctant to hurt your feelings further.

You sighed, eyes closing, “Again, there is no reason–”

“I want you here. With me. That is the reason why you should stay.”

You audibly swallowed, taking his words with a grain of salt. Your voice took on a placating tone as you lightly placed your palms on his chest, “I understand that you’re worried about the nightmares–”

“Darling, you understand nothing,” You stared, dumbfounded at his earnest tone.

“The agony of lost sleep pales in comparison to the loss of your presence. There is nothing more that I desire than having you here next to me as I fall asleep and as I wake. Seeing your radiant face every morning—I feel like the luckiest male in the world. And I am greedy; for your touch, your time…” He shook his head, putting his forehead to yours, “I know I am asking much of you since—”

You surged forward and placed a passionate kiss on his lips. His lashes fluttered before he was pushing back with just as much fervour. You pressed your body tighter against his, feeling the contours of his body moulding perfectly to your own. You wanted him closer—had you been one body right now, it would not have been enough. He thought he was greedy? He had no concept of the depth of your selfish desires, only scraping the surface with this ardent kiss.

You pulled back, breathless and entirely at his mercy, “You could ask for all the stars in the night sky and I would scorch my hands to deliver them to you,” He brushed his nose against your own, your swollen lips lightly caressing, “There is no limit to what I can give you Rhysand, if only you’ll let me.”

His violet eyes shone with disbelieving wonder as if he was undeserving of your affections. Rhys kissed you gently; this kiss held a promise that the others lacked. It was a promise of love, of reverence, of total, utter devotion. Your heart soared in your chest and for once, you let it; a caged bird finally tasting freedom.

That same gentle presence filled your mind once again.

I would be honoured, darling.

The message was bundled in the gossamer enormity of his feelings for you. With your heart content, you whispered under the cover of silky night,

“The honour will always be mine.”

Final Notes: Anything for my bbg Rhys <3 (Can you tell I recently rewatched Pride and Prejudice for the millionth time?) Hope you all liked it!

#rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x you #rhys x you #rhysand/reader #rhys/reader #rhysand #rhys #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acomaf #acowar #acosf #cherhys

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yorshie · 6 months

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Twitterpaited

Hey, These are my Springtime Headcanons!

That's right, we all know that I'm talking about mating season. I tried to not go explicit with these but by the vey nature of these headcanons they are adults doing adult things, so read at your own discretion. There’s cussing and mentions/alludes to adult activities. Set in 2023 so turtles are 24-25

Spring starts slow, creeping up like an itch on their carapace and a skin sensitivity. It hits them all in slightly different degrees of uncomfortableness, but by the end of the roughly two weeks they’re all done with each other and their own instincts. Splinter caught on to the signs of encroaching puberty in their early teenage years. When they were younger, all it amounted to was shedding shells and outbursts of manic emotion and moodiness, but by the time the the turtles are in their twenties it’s a full hormonal raging see-saw. He nopes out to Casey’s and April’s apartment every year by then. They make up the guest room for him and he turns off his phone for the duration. His sons are adults, they can figure out their own shit, and in his older age he values his peace and quiet. And the Lair in springtime is anything but that.

Everything comes out of left field and sucker punches the turtles every year. The human friends of the bale might have picked up on cues to determine when the craziness is gonna start, but to the turtles it feels like nothing is amiss until they’re in the thick of it nine miles behind enemy lines, ass deep in cleaning supplies, snack food, and suddenly unable to stand the sight or smell of each other.

Territorial out the wazoo, and that’s an understatement. They’ll get pissy over someone wiping their feet on the wrong shower rug. Everything in their space must be clean, must be straight, orderly and neat. For Leo this is no problem, but Raphael and Mikey spend a good day or two cleaning out their rooms because their turtle brains can stand the ‘pigsty’ all of a sudden and they can’t find the one object they need that they haven’t thought about all year. One year for Raph it was a particular pair of boxing gloves and he didn’t sleep for three days straight trying to find them. The compulsion to have a clean space drives Donnie up the wall the most, because the poor turtle will never have a clean Lab, no matter how hard he tries. The good side of that is, no one runs into hormonal Donnie as long as they stay away from the Lab- which is a good thing since he discovered years ago caffeine makes everything worse. Just imagine, hormonal Donnie with no caffeine. shudder.

One time Casey nipped down to grab something Splinter forgot, and when he came back home April Frebreeze-ed him outside the apartment before he was allowed to enter. The turtles stink during their springtime, especially with only rival males around to interact with. It’s like they’re each putting out ‘fuck you and fuck off’ stench and it permeates the air. Casey said it smells like a musky skunk, and April swears it smells like a boy’s locker room when she got a whiff of it second handed off Casey. Splinter shocked them both by mumbling into his tea “It smells like they’re horny and pissy.” Raph is the worst at this, but Leo is a close second. Every time poor Mikey sticks his nose outside his bedroom all he can smell is ‘fuck you and the horse you rode in on’ from his elder two brothers and being the smallest and youngest, his turtle senses equate it to ‘I’m gonna get my ass kicked if I leave this room’.

Despite everyone being frustrated and pissy about it, there’s not a lot of fist fights going on. It’s more subtle postering than anything overt, and it’s mostly between Leo and Raph. Whenever they clock the other in their peripheral, they start up a warning rumble that, in Raph’s case, will shake the furniture in the room if he puts effort into it. At most it’ll escalate into huffing and flexing their arms and chests, but it’s likely to scare the shit out of anyone watching. Every once in a while Mikey will be feeling his oats and will rumble back, and it’s usually enough to shock the shit out of his bigger brothers and they’ll stop for a bit. Leo absolutely hates it. He’s the leader, but come Springtime everyone seems to forget that, and for him it feels like every time he sees Raphael he’s in a power struggle for the mantle. Raph is just pissed he has to see Leo's ugly mug and judgmental eye rolls when he’d rather just get his food and get the fuck back to watching tv in his room with his door locked.

The one thing that will cause them to stop in their tracks, however, is the discovery of anything smol. Raph turns on his tv and sees baby animals by accident? Bawls for hours. Families or small children running around exploring on Mikey’s instagram reel feed? Turtle is hit in the chest with the thought that he will likely never be a father. Leo finds old photos of when they were toddlers while cleaning his room?He’ll avoid everyone for the rest of the day, chest tight at the thought of little faces that resemble his own. Donnie finds all the parenting books he downloaded over the hope of ‘what if’? He’ll throw them in the trash and then dig them out hours later in a silent apology to whatever kernel of hope he has.

Now as the turtles get older, there’s always the chance they have an s/o during their Springtime. They learned the hard way that things can get really weird, really quickly, when one year April hugged Raph goodbye after a game night in March and she said “wow you smell really good for some reason”- cue the turtles locking eyes in dawning horror and scuttling out of the room like their pants are literally on fire, and April disgustedly cussing Raph out over the phone once she figured out what exactly was happening. So, needless to say, if the turtles do have an s/o during these two weeks, there is a strict order to stay away from the Lair. If the relationship is far along enough, the turtle could join their s/o at their place, provided they can take the whole two weeks and then some off work, because there is no way any of the turtles could chill enough to let their s/o leave the safety of the nest until turtle.exe stops hogging the brain console and logic comes back online. Even if their s/o leaves just to run errands, they’ll likely come home to find a stressed turtle panic cleaning and vibrating off the walls, rumbling every time they hear footsteps outside in the hall… Maybe it’s better just to leave him in the Lair to preserve his poor blood pressure.

Courtship behavior, however, comes out as well in the Springtime, and it’s something to contend with if either the warning isn’t heeded or the turtle heads aboveground. During the other months of the year, the turtles are more into romancing their s/o’s in a more ‘normal’ manner, but during those two weeks the little voice that warns them humans won’t really ‘get’ all the turtle-y interactions goes suspiciously quiet. Actions such as kissing, hand holding, and personal bubble space go right out the proverbial window, and in their place pop up some more hindbrain postering that, well to be honest, can be downright confusing

One of the most obvious courtships traits is dogging their s/o’s footsteps. It’s a shadowing instinct, made ten times worse by their ninja training and their ability to move silently, and nine times out of ten they don’t even realize they’re doing it until their s/o turns and runs into them. They’re always in the way, always underfoot, and if they can’t physically follow they’ll track with their gaze. It gets worse if the other turtles are around, to the point where their s/o might feel like they’re being stalked by a particularly rumbly bodyguard that covers their back at all times. Surprisingly (sarcasm), Mikey is the worst offender. Leo is the best at keeping himself to only following with his eyes, but eventually they’ll all break and find themselves one step from being up against their chosen partner.

Another turtle-y interaction that grips them hard is the need to provide. He notices his s/o hasn’t eaten in a few hours? He’ll make a point to get them to eat or to bring them snacks. The room’s too cold or there’s too few blankets to cuddle up in? He’ll bring the covers from the bed if he can’t get away with just relocating to the bedroom, but no matter what he’s getting some article of his ill-fitting clothing on his s/o. It’s a ‘kill two birds with one stone’ technique that soothes the itch in his snout that absolutely freaks him out when he realizes his s/o doesn’t smell like him.

The turtles also turn handsy overnight. Their s/o better be prepared for casual touch at any open opportunity, because the turtles will not waste it. Everything from a hand on the small of their s/o’s back, to touching any bare skin, to fluttering their fingers against their s/o’s face. The latter happens the least, and only when no one else is around to witness it. If their s/o ever tries to turn the tables and return the favor around others, it quickly becomes apparent by the sputtering and coughing from the other brothers that they might not understand all the connotations associated with the action. Cue their turtle getting flustered and all but ducking their head into their shell in embarrassment over being propositioned in front of his family.

Cuddle time dissolves into massages as an excuse to rub up against their s/o, to the point that the s/o might have to point out that massages are usually done with hands and not by just bumping and rubbing a turtle snout over any body part they can reach, which will only be answered with annoyed grumbling and insistence that they ‘aren’t’ doing that… while not stopping doing exactly that. There is also no such thing as personal space while cuddling- if their s/o doesn’t want a heavy ass turtle in their lap, they better nab that spot first or risk being squashed.

Speaking of turtle rumbles, those aren’t the only sounds that come out with a vengeance during springtime. The turtles all churr more readily, chirp and click to get each others and their s/o’s attention, but when they’re alone with their s/o it ramps up, to the point where they’ll forgo words all together. Donnie is the worst offender as he’s battling not only hormones but also caffeine withdrawals, and as such he tends to only hiss at his brothers when they stick their heads into his lab to make sure he’s still alive. With their s/o's however, it's all rumbles deep in their chest and churrs that are likely to rattle the breath in their chests. Raph has the lowest auditory range with his rumbles while Mikey sounds the sweetest.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcannons #tmnt bayverse headcanons #TMNT springtime head canons #TMNT leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo #bayverse leonardo #bayverse raphael #bayverse donatello #bayverse michelangelo #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #bayverse donnie #bayverse mikey #my writing snippets

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ironmandeficiency · 1 year

Text

stupid goose

pairing: fíli / hobbit!reader

word count: 2953

summary: a goose followed fili into erebor and refused to leave

a/n: this has taken over my brain

no one knew where that damn demon bird came from. all anyone knew is that when fíli returned from the markets of dale one day, he was trailed by a goose. this goose demanded in very angry honks to be let into erebor right behind the golden prince, and despite every attempt made to shoo the thing outside, the goose remained.

it honked during council meetings, entertained some of the young pebbles that had returned to erebor with their families, and generally caused a disturbance everywhere it waddled. fíli took to naming his new pet trøbbel, and he grew to appreciate the feathered chaos harbinger.

thorin couldn’t stand the damn thing. it would flap and honk and nip at him at the most odd times, namely when he was scolding his nephews. the king under the mountain was halfway convinced that fíli trained it to behave so.

the days turned to weeks, weeks into months, and trøbbel stuck around through it all. he was a common companion, and a very proper one indeed. eventually he learned some semblance of patience; the standard amount of patience in geese was alarmingly similar to the patience of dwarves.

trøbbel definitely lived up to his name, so much so that when bilbo sent word that he was planning a springtime visit to the mountain in a few months’ time, multiple correspondents thought it fit to warn their burglar about the newest addition.

“dear bilbo,

the company is delighted to hear of your pending visit to the mountain! many things have changed for the better since uncle was crowned king (not his temper, unfortunately for us all). everyone is looking forward to seeing you again, though i do carry a warning with this letter.

you see, a few months ago i involuntarily acquired a wild goose as a companion. he made himself known to me after leaving dale one afternoon and rather violently refused to be parted from my side.

this goose is a mighty beast that honks and bites diplomats (dwalin never loved him more than when he nipped at thranduil upon first glance of the elf) and steals food from the plates of those not paying attention. i warn you because trøbbel is very suspicious of new people, and i don’t want you falling victim to his wiles if he finds that you don’t have snacks for him upon arrival.

see you soon,

prince fíli”

bilbo was baffled. he was confuddled, stupefied even. how in yavanna’s green gardens fíli ended up with a goose was beyond his reckoning. the last time he heard of a goose forcing its way into someone’s life in this manner was being told the story of how his parents met when he was a wee fauntling.

it was a somewhat rare phenomenon among hobbits to be found by a goose in such a way. they were said to guide hobbits to their soulmates, the other half of their soul as created by lady yavanna. the goddess had to create an animal stubborn enough to aid her hobbit children in finding their soulmates, one that could easily navigate the hills and rivers of their lands, and the goose was her solution.

even though erebor was no west farthing, bilbo could imagine that any goose worth its tail feathers would find a way to survive in the lonely mountain. and, based on the letter he just read, one has.

taking into consideration the thing’s audacity, that bird of fíli’s is definitely a soulmate goose, and a right bugger at that.

the first thing he now had to do was inform fortinbras of this development. as thain and cousin, bilbo was sure that he could find some sound advice there.

now, if bilbo could figure out how to explain that fíli has a hobbit for a soulmate without putting thorin and balin into their deathbeds, that would be just peachy.

“HONK! HONK HONK!”

“i cannot believe you, tansy!”

“HONK!”

“yeah you better run, you wretched thing!”

tansy the goose had to be the biggest pain in the backside you’ve ever met, and that’s saying something considering the run-ins you’ve had with the bracegirdles.

she followed you to the markets, when you went on walks among the meadows and fields, and even snuck into the washroom to be there when you bathed. in your opinion, it was all a bit too much.

your tansy gave the wizard gandalf a run for his money when it came to disturbing the peace. on days you went to the market, she would follow you and honk all the way at passersby and intimidate them off the dirt path you were on.

she also picked up a very peculiar habit of trying to (and sometimes succeeding to) snag fine jewelry from the booths of dwarrow traveling through from the blue mountains. every time you would turn and see a shiny glint of silver or gold hanging from her beak, your heart would drop to your feet in fear. thus far, the merchants you’ve encountered were very understanding of your feathery thief and harbored no ill will against you as you returned their wares to the tune of an angry goose.

while those situations were mortifying and anxiety-inducing, you’ve reached the end of your rope today. tansy has committed a grievous sin by brutalizing your blackberry patch to the point of there being almost nothing left worth eating and you’ve had it up to your ears with her.

you chased her with a wooden spoon as you ranted about her foul deed and resolved to talk to someone about what to do about tansy the chaos goose. maybe the thain would have some advice?

“uncle! we’ve got a reply from bilbo!” kíli waved the letter in the air excitedly as he barged into his uncle’s chambers.

fíli follows kíli in, rolling his eyes as he snatches the parchment from his brother’s hand. “no, i got a reply from bilbo.”

the golden prince makes no mention of the second page bilbo wrote to him with explicit instructions to keep it to himself. that morsel of information was for him and him alone - well, for him and trøbbel, of course.

“hurry up and read it!”

“i would if you’d stop flapping about like trøbbel!”

in response to being compared to kíli (or maybe just hearing his name), trøbbel honked indignantly.

“dearest fíli,

it pleases me greatly to know that erebor is flourishing under your uncle’s rule. i am most excited to see you all again, especially in the comforts of your home.

while i thank you for your warning, i have some news of my own to share. there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip-“

thorin cut off his nephew, his bright mood upon receiving bilbo’s correspondence immediately clouding over. “he’s bringing a hobbit lass?” the king’s thoughts immediately sour with thoughts of his burglar introducing the company to a spouse wooed by his tales of adventure.

both brothers caught the sudden wave of melancholy that surged through their uncle. his feelings for bilbo were a poorly-kept secret among the company, but there were none who had the courage to call attention to it.

“you’re almost as bad as kee with interrupting me,” fíli chastised before clearing his throat to continue.

“-there will be a hobbitess accompanying me on my trip that shares in your feathered predicament. with the description you gave me of your trøbbel, i’d bet all of my fourteenth share that he’d get along swimmingly with her tansy. she’s a menace, that one.”

“see uncle, you can remove that frown! bilbo isn’t courting anyone back in the shire!” kíli interjected with a small smile and an elbow nudge, hoping to goad thorin back into a good mood.

fíli sighed the sigh of a long-suffering older brother. “this is exactly what i mean when i talk about you interrupting me, kee!”

“but he was sad!”

“and i’m annoyed!”

“boys!”

one word put the squabbling siblings back in line.

“sorry, uncle.”

“do continue, fíli.”

“i send this letter ahead of me from bree. i hope you receive it in proper time so you can prepare the mountain for the impending doom that will be brought upon by two geese occupying erebor.

if you note the bite marks in bottom right corner and the occasional blots of stray ink on the parchment, those are courtesy of tansy. she sends her well wishes along with mine.

your burglar,

bilbo baggins”

thorin looks at trøbbel where he’s squatted directly on top of thorin’s favorite bedpillow like the cruel beast he is. the smug bastard has a wicked gleam in his eye as if he knows he’ll soon have a partner in crime to terrorize the whole mountain alongside.

oh mahal, please watch over this mountain.

erebor was teeming with anticipation, both for the arrival of the famed dragonriddler and for the next act of war from trøbbel. for nigh on three weeks, the royal bird has been eerily well-behaved. this was so out of character that fíli carried his companion to óin in the hopes the healer could figure out what malady had struck his friend.

there was nothing obvious to blame for the sudden silence of the royal bird, so the healer told fíli to watch over his bird and take as good care of him as possible.

he didn’t know much of anything about geese, so he simply opted to treat his companion like kíli when he was sick.

a cozy new bed was constructed, fíli monitored his food, and things seemed to be getting better. trøbbel slowly came back to his regular gremlin self, causing chaos that was mildly tamer than before.

at least the mountain didn’t get too comfortable without his shenanigans, because when bilbo arrived with his companion and their goose, all hell broke loose.

“hmm,” bilbo hummed to himself as he observed tansy sitting demurely on her designated pillow. she’d been oddly calm today, as if she knew where her company was going.

when bilbo explained the significance of tansy’s appearance in your life, you were flabbergasted. the idea of true soulmates was a sweet one yet painfully unrealistic in your eyes, something you read in bedtime stories. but with both bilbo and thain fortinbras’s confirmation that you received a soulmate goose from yavanna, you couldn’t deny it any longer.

then bilbo claimed he knew your soulmate and had fought alongside him against trolls and goblins and orcs and a dragon. he told you that he was rather fond of the dwarves of erebor, and that they were rambunctious and honorable.

but when he spoke of king thorin, the uncle of your soulmate, something was decidedly different from how he spoke of the rest of the company he kept. you could see the way his body visibly relaxed, how his eyes were softer and the appearance of pink on the tips of his ears.

your friend clearly held something more than respect for the dwarf king.

one night around the campfire, you told tansy about your suspicions. for a hooligan goose, she was a rather good conversationalist.

“i think bilbo loves that king of his, tansy.”

“HONK!”

“exactly! that’s what i was thinking!”

tansy honks back in response. living among hobbits, she seemed to pick up on some social etiquettes and right now, it was as if you were pleasantly chatting over afternoon tea.

you pondered what to do about this new development. bilbo was always seen as a bachelor, someone unattainable by shire standards. but just maybe, by the grace of yavanna, he’ll find his love in the heart of a king.

“say tansy,” a soft honk of acknowledgement came from your goose, “when you’re done leading me to my soulmate, can you help bilbo find his?”

in years to come, you will swear by the fact tansy nodded at you that evening by the fire.

“they’re here!”

“bilbo!”

“our burglar has returned!”

in the distance, they could see bilbo making his way towards the front entrance of erebor and unbridled joy swept through the company. how they’ve all missed their burglar in his absence from the mountain.

bard was walking alongside bilbo, who had dismounted from his pony when he entered dale and was guiding him along by the reins. at bilbo’s other side was another hobbit, presumably the lass he mentioned in his letter, and waddling with pride beside them was a goose wearing a red ribbon tied into a neat bow.

fíli made a break for the front gates as soon as the horn announcing bilbo’s arrival echoed through the crisp air. he genuinely missed bilbo and was plenty excited to meet the goose (and the hobbitess) described in his letters.

trøbbel dutifully followed behind his dwarf, waddling just fast enough to keep pace. at first. but in the distance, the royal goose of erebor heard a honk that resonated so deeply in him that he couldn’t dawdle with fíli, he had to go immediately.

his orange webbed feet pitter-pattered on the stone floors with the intensity of oliphaunts and the speed of rhosgobel rabbits, honking all the way. members of the company hollered after the speeding goose but trøbbel paid them no heed, far too focused on his destination.

“oi! trøbbel you mangy beast, get back here!”

“you ain’t beatin’ us to our burglar!”

the dwarves stood no chance at catching him, only following behind him like goslings in a rather lopsided row. apparently, trøbbel was going to beat them.

tansy was going to turn you grey long before your time if she had anything to say about it.

that wild beast of a bird strutted into dale with the attitude of the most pretentious hobbits in the west farthing, catching all sorts of strange looks from the big folk who never beheld such a human-acting animal. she honked and nodded to the growing crowd in greeting. you sighed at her antics but carried on, watching as bilbo’s entire countenance changed the closer he got to his dwarrow.

watching the entrance to the dwarven kingdom grow ever closer, you felt strangely lighter, almost as if you were coming home.

before you knew it, there was a stampede of dwarrow emerging from the front gates headed straight towards you and bilbo, led by a goose. logic told you that they were his friends from the journey, that they missed him more than you could imagine missing anyone.

but then tansy let out a screeching honk unlike anything you’ve ever heard in all your days. she immediately bolted for the feathered line leader, not even the slightest bit worried about being trampled by the pounding feet of dwarrow.

“tansy! tansy! oh you reckless fiend, you’re lucky i didn’t cook you on the way here!”

chasing after her was a terrible idea. instead, you elected to watch from beside your pony and hope for the best.

recalling bilbo’s stories, you could point out a few of his companions. bombur with his braided beard that weaves into itself, nori with the star points atop his head, thorin with his raven-colored hair…

the king of erebor was running like a hooligan towards bilbo at full speed, a wide smile on his face that bilbo led you to believe was a nigh impossible feat.

you nudge your friend with a smile, wondering why his feet weren’t going a mile a minute to reunite with his dwarf. “go to him,” you whispered. this seemed to spur him into action, bilbo making a mad dash for his king.

when thorin caught bilbo in a leaping embrace, their laughter was infectious. even tansy was honking joyously with them, echoed by another bit of loud honking you couldn’t place.

looking over, your tansy was nuzzling with the ereborian goose. they were waddling around each other inquisitively at first, then plopped down to the side of the path to watch the joyous reunion of king and burglar.

within moments, you realized what this meant: your soulmate was on his way. oh green gardens, you weren’t ready!

meeting your prince soulmate now, after a ragged journey across middle earth while covered in yavanna-knows-what, had your nerves vibrating with tension. your hands were clammy, eyes flitting around to spot him based on bilbo’s descriptions.

“trøbbel! oi you bugger, how dare you run ahead!”

you heard one voice clearly through the thicket of joyous bustling, and the entire world came to a screeching halt.

your soulmate wore a smile that could have blinded you, and his laughter put you in a tailspin. in the golden light of morning, his hair shone like the wheat fields you grew up playing in.

you had to be closer to him without another moment’s delay.

without your permission, your feet began to carry you into the growing crowd of dwarrow towards fíli. part of you wanted to dig your heels into the dirt because you didn’t know what to say to him! how did one even begin to introduce themselves to the person that the gods made to be their other half?

turns out you didn’t have to answer that question on your own.

in the time he spent on the road with bilbo, fíli learned quite a few pieces of important information about hobbits. they valued their food and their gardens, and placed great importance on flowers and their meanings. so when presented with his hobbit soulmate, he knew exactly how to make a good first impression.

presenting you a few sprigs of purple lilacs, he approached his one with a charming smile. “i imagine you’re starving from the trip here, love. would you like me to fetch you a warm meal straight from the royal kitchens?”

#fili durin x reader #fíli durin x reader #fíli durin #fili durin #the hobbit imagine #hobbit!reader #soulmate goose of enforcement #the hobbit fanfic #the hobbit fanfiction #fíli #fíli imagine #bagginshield #thorin oakenshield x bilbo baggins #bilbo baggins x thorin oakenshield

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ataraxiaspainting · 2 months

Text

Hayloft.

Yan Mahito x GN Reader.

Synopsis: Mahito wants to farm.

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, Mahito as his own warning, implied minor character death, and implications of violence/forced cannibalism.

Word Count: 800.

*~*~*~*

“Sounds fun! Looks so too!”

Mahito’s fingers tap and tap on the glass, unsurprisingly never leaving any fingerprints or smudges. He is a curse, after all. It makes sense. Not that you have to be reminded of such, with how little he knows of human culture, the world at large, or with how much he shapeshifts into a disembodied head at night to scare half-awake you.

You are both sitting on a giant bean bag in the shape of a green slime of all things that Mahito brought in an hour or so earlier. Mahito, as expected, takes up most of it with a malformed arm wrapped around your shoulders and back.

In your hands is a Nintendo Switch, the sticker case on the joycons, and the screen itself somewhat peeling off, but still the pink bunny and strawberry drawing designs stay intact.

The YouTube app is on, showing a playthrough of Stardew Valley. This part of the sewers had two bars of wifi from the little ramen place above it, something you are grateful for in some aspect. Because of it, you have one more piece of entertainment that is now Mahito bringing you back stale snacks and stuffed animals (that you pray to whatever higher power that they were not alive before Mahito got his hands on them) and nearly smothering you with hugs.

This is calming. When you just read the dialogue of the characters and listen to the music and pay attention to the satisfying sight of the farmer planting pumpkin seeds and apple tree saplings, it is calming, you are calm, Mahito is, at least partially, calm.

Mahito wanted something to watch today and brought the Nintendo Switch for you to play with as he simply observes. It could be worse, you reminded yourself before you attempted to protest, stopping yourself. It could be much worse. He could turn you into the Nintendo Switch, or much, much worse.

It can be so much worse. He can be so much worse. Your life as a captive can be so much worse. Everything can be so much worse. That is a line you never want to cross because everything can be so, so much worse than it already is.

Mahito raises his free hand, and you pause the video, just as you were taught to. He then points again at the field of two-dimensional, square-like crops all in multiple rows of hoed soil.

It’s springtime in the game, you think, from how the cherry trees have pink blossoms and petals falling onto nearby ground all around it.

Mahito counts with his fingertip, jumping from one plant to the next and then from one row to the next.

He whistles, and it makes you flinch because that is the same noise he makes whenever you scream, a reaction to when he brings a body part of someone you loved here, throwing it down beside the small dog bed you were given for good behavior, the blood staining the fabric as it falls with a grotesque, sort of plopping sound.

If Mahito wants to grow vegetables and fruit in the few places this sewer has sunlight, he can be your guest.

“Potato, cauliflower, garlic… green beans, kale, parsnips, rhubarb, strawberries…” He says each word like he has never heard of them before. Considering he has never really set foot in a grocery or convenience store for anything other than chips, it is not all that surprising. With another wave of his hand, you rewind it to the moment where the farmer character starts watering the seeds when they are freshly planted. He waits. So do you. “Sounds good! We can make some cheese cauliflower, parsnip soup, pizza, hashbrowns… just imagine it! Yum… I can just picture it now.”

With yet another wave of his hand, you stand up and so does he. Relief goes through you, like a ghost, both horrifying you and making you feel the smallest bit of hope that for once Mahito can act normal.

…

“M-Mahito, vegetables don’t grow that fast.” You say, looking down at the plate of baked fish with what smells like kale and garlic underneath, along with lemon and salt. “H-How-”

“It’s simply the power of love!” Mahito exclaims, inhaling loudly to smell the dish in front of you two. He sighs softly. “A pure demonstration of my love, all I do for you, and all I will do for you in the future.”

You could have sworn that there was the smallest voice from the fish if Mahito’s bragging of how much work went into making you a dish from Stardew Valley was not so loud.

Help me.

“Dig in, cutie!”

You would do anything for Mahito’s grin to not turn into a frown, so you pick up your fork with trembling, scarred hands.

#aya abstractions #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere mahito x reader #yandere mahito #yandere jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #mahito x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic

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ebongawk · 10 months

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The first time she said it, he thought maybe it was just a slip of the tongue or something.

"You're so pretty, Eddie."

They were sitting together at the picnic table, textbooks and homework spread out in front of them that Chrissy was diligently doing and Eddie was diligently ignoring in favor of making notes for his next Hellfire campaign. They'd been unlikely friends for a few weeks, Chrissy having come to him in search of drugs and instead found a tentative kinship with a fellow freak in the woods.

He looked up at her, feeling how rounded with surprise his own eyeballs were as he let out a guffaw of disbelief.

"I think that's my line, Chrissy. But a lowly jester sitting at the queen's court, I am meant to compliment your beauty that rivals the very essence of springtime. Not, uh, the other way around."

She giggled a little, but her eyes were still roving over his face. Searching for something, though Eddie had no fucking idea what.

After a minute, she shrugged, returning to her history essay.

Eddie just kinda figured that was that.

"Gosh, you're pretty," she said again a few weeks later.

He was riding the high of playing for her – finally, Jesus Christ – and laughed loudly enough for the entirety of the Hideout to hear. Still incredibly sweaty, he'd just jumped off the stage to come greet her immediately after their set finished.

Those were the first words that fell past the lips he'd spent more time than he cared to admit dreaming about.

"Damn, not even, 'Wow, Eddie, you're so good at guitar' or anything?" he jested, trying to shrug off her compliment with a joke. She beamed at him, giggling when he pitched his voice to try and match her dainty way of speaking. "You wound me, Cunningham! Am I not rockstar material?"

"All rockstars are good at guitar!" she cried in defiance. "But not all of them are pretty!"

"Not all rockstars are good at guitar! What about the bassists and the drummers and the singers?"

"That's not the point," she huffed before giving him that star shine grin that wrapped his heart in a fist and choked it until it was beating with the same resonance as her name. "But, um, you do play guitar really well, too."

That, he kinda figured, despite counting up all her little accidental compliments like rosebuds trying valiantly to bloom, should've been that.

But it was not.

"Eddie," she sighed, leaning heavily against his shoulder as they watched some stupid made-for-TV movie through the haze of their shared high. "Do you know how pretty you are?"

They were sprawled across the dingy couch in his trailer, snacking on popcorn – Eddie munching on, like, fifteen kernels to Chrissy's every one. He hadn't even realized she was looking at him.

Jesus. She was so close. So beautiful. Her pointy little chin pressed against his shoulder, staring up at him like he was a sunrise and she'd never before seen daytime.

"Me?" he scoffed, trying valiantly to buck the urge to kiss her. Fuck if he didn't want to, though. But that was, like, some law of the goddamn universe or something. Earth's magnetism sustained the gravity that kept everything from floating into space, matter cannot be created or destroyed, and Eddie Munson desperately wanted to kiss Chrissy Cunningham.

"Yes, you."

"Sweetness, have you looked in a mirror?" he asked, trying not to dwell too long on the verbal vomit that was this sudden introduction of a pet name. "You're a fucking knock out. Starlight in human form. Comparatively, I'm basically a gelatinous cube."

Though the D&D reference was lost on her, it did nothing to deter the sudden spark of fire behind her reddened eyes. In a move that stole the actual breath from his fucking lungs (since she already had the heart from his chest), Chrissy was swinging her leg over his and pulling herself into his lap.

Repeat for emphasis: into his fucking lap.

Both of her perfect, tiny little hands came up, gently cupping his jaw as she stared him dead in the eyes. Storm clouds meeting forested brown across burning coals.

"I may be starlight or springtime or whatever else you want to call me," she said, her voice taking on a severity he'd rarely heard from her. Not since she told Jason and his goons to leave the Hellfire kids alone a couple weeks ago, just before miraculously ending their monarchic relationship in front of the entire school. "But that doesn't negate the fact that you are also pretty."

"Uhh." She was way too fucking close for him to think clearly.

"Just accept the compliment, please."

He'd swallowed his tongue or something. Responding to her simply wasn't possible. He no longer had a voice box; it was lost in the ether of his weed-addled body. He just stared wide-eyed at the woman of his dreams who was currently straddling his lap and holding his face and opening up a variety of daydreams he'd had about this exact scenario, though not anywhere near under these circumstances.

A knock at the door broke them apart, someone calling through the door about pizza delivery, and Chrissy begrudgingly climbed off of Eddie to let him pay for their dinner.

He couldn't really let himself hope that she hadn't wanted to move.

"So pretty."

They were lying together in his bed, sweat still cooling on their spent bodies. Each of them turned onto their sides, eyes absorbing one another's nakedness as though still uncomprehending of how they'd made it to this moment.

Or, at least, Eddie was.

It was two-thirty in the morning when a frantic knocking had awoken him from a decently peaceful sleep. He'd stumbled out of his bedroom, expecting to find... well, he didn't even know. Something that most certainly was not Chrissy Cunningham, standing in her pajamas and tennis shoes, clutching the stuffed cat-bug-thing he'd won her at the Fourth of July fair two weeks ago with tears in her eyes and a determination set in the rigid line of her jaw.

(The plush was, admittedly, almost a little creepy, but also extremely cute, and it was the only thing Chrissy had gushed about for a full week, so.)

She'd barreled past him into the living room, bouncing on her toes and teeming with anxious energy that made his throat close and his eyes prick with tears unrelated to his interrupted sleep. It felt like she was here to slice his heart in two or something. It took true, actual willpower to shut the door and give her his attention.

"Uh, hey, Chrissy, what––"

"I love you," she blurted out, blinking like she hadn't expected those words to come out of her own mouth. Lips twisting, she pushed on, refusing to allow her admission to hang between them for even a second. "I'm, like, completely in love with you, Eddie. And–– And I've waited for you to notice, but you haven't, and at first I thought maybe you didn't like me back, and that was okay! Or, it–– it had to be okay, right? Because I valued our friendship so much. But then, at the fair, we were talking, and you mentioned that you liked someone, but you didn't say who, and I was so heartbroken that I cried for, like, three days, and then Nancy told me that I was being so dense, because of course you liked me, but how could that be, because you never said anything! And I thought I'd just come here and tell you because I can't keep it in anymore, Eddie, I can't––"

Her rambling had only cut off when Eddie finally found the strength to fucking move. He crossed the scant distance between them, cupping her jaw in his hands and pressing his lips to hers in a messy, imperfectly perfect kiss that tasted like pretty springtime starlight.

"Of course it's you, Cunningham," he'd rasped when they finally pulled apart. "It's been you my entire goddamn life."

They crashed into his bedroom after that, cat-bug-thing and tennis shoes and pajamas discarded in favor of skin and lips and hair and whispered promises caressing fevered flesh.

And now, she was gently caressing the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, the shell of his ear, and whispering, "So pretty," into the few inches of mattress between them like it was a brand she could sear into his very soul.

His first instinct was to shy away, to deny, to turn the compliment back on her and remind her that she was, in fact, the absolute definition of beauty in this world and every other galaxy. To tell her that sunlight fell from her hair and oceans crashed inside her eyes and every freckle dotting her skin was like a fresh raindrop on dewy summer grass.

Instead, he caught her hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to her palm, her thumb, each of her fingers, and whispered,

"Thank you, baby."

#hellcheer #eddissy #eddie x chrissy #eddie munson #stranger things #chrissy x eddie #hellcheer drabble #chrissy cunningham #cw weed #weed mention

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