Best Friend Eddie who climbs up and knocks on her window at night to go for a drive when he can’t sleep but she’s either in her underwear or naked and playing with a toy and he hears her moan his name and he goes in and maybe helps her out and admits feelings 🥵🥵🥵
a/n: i went in a bit of a different direction with this because i became enchanted by how devastatingly fucking awkward it would be for both of them to get caught in this situation LMAO. this is about 1.8k words!
warnings: 18+ MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. fem!reader self-penetrating + squirting, eddie gets dropped head first into non-consensual voyeurism and cums his pants about it. happy ending though don’t worry <3
other requests ★ my request guidelines
-
You’ve told Eddie to stop showing up unannounced more times than he can count.
Either that, or to, at the very least, use the front door “like a normal person.” Climbing up to your second story bedroom window in the middle of the night like the roguish love interest in a sexed up teen movie might’ve been cute when you were still teens yourselves, but these days, it’s mildly aggravating at best, and playing with fire at worst—or so you keep telling him. You’re utterly convinced that one day, an uptight neighbor will catch him in the act, and half of the Hawkins PD will be there before he even makes it on the roof.
Eddie reasons, on the other hand, that he isn’t any less likely to get the cops called on him whether he’s doing something potentially suspicious or not. Hanging around in a “good” neighborhood with his grungy old van is plenty of provocation for your local HOA, and if anything, the reduced visibility of scaling up the side of your house under the cover of night is probably the safer option.
But, yeah, it probably wouldn’t hurt to call first.
Eddie’s brain has a tendency to blatantly refuse to quiet down. Sometimes his sleepless thought-journeys are harmless, fantastical, and random, but other times, they nosedive into depths unpleasant enough that he’d rather risk your sleep-deprived wrath than ride them out alone at the trailer. Besides, more often than not, he finds you fully awake and only pretending to be annoyed by his impromptu arrival, kept up by your own sleep woes and just as grateful for the company. So, all in all, Eddie figures that the risk-reward of his ill-mannered habit is balanced firmly in his favor.
It’s never occurred to him that you could have any other reasons for not wanting him to drop in on you without warning in the middle of the night. Not until he heaves himself onto the shingles of the first-story roof, crawls his way over to your bedroom window, and peers through the cover of your venetian blinds to get an unimpeded eyeful of the only part of your body that he’s never seen in his life.
Well, mostly unimpeded. You are, technically, still wearing underwear, but shoved aside as it is to make room for the thick rod of bright purple silicone pumping in and out of you, it’s not like it’s doing much for your modesty.
The sight of it turns him to stone, every inch of him somehow flushing cold and hot all at once. There’s a disconnect somewhere between his eyes and his neurons that seems to be backing up the entire system. He isn’t even breathing as he stares, wide eyed, furiously failing to process the images getting blasted into his brain.
That’s you. It can only be you, even though he can’t see your face, smushed as it is into your pillows, the rest of your body blocking it from sight. Propped up on your knees, ass in the air, reaching around to fuck yourself into the mattress. A towel laid beneath you for reasons he shouldn’t even attempt to think about.
And he can hear it. The window is open just an inch or so, more than enough to let escape the low buzzing of the toy cock splitting you open, and the deafening, fucking maddening squelch of your arousal with each harsh thrust. And under it all, if he strains his ears, the quiet panting and needy whining of your pleasure.
He has to go. It’s the only intelligible thought passing through his mind, that he has to leave, right fucking now, and possibly never look you in the eye again, but if that was ever a realistic goal of his, it’s instantly ruptured into a million useless pieces by the next sound that comes out of your mouth. Your head shifts, the noises you’re making ringing out a little clearer, and as you drive the toy in just right, you moan:
“...Fuck, Eddie.”
The heartbeat growing stronger in his pants, fiercely ignored until now for the sake of his sanity, erupts like a volcano; throbbing so hard it nearly hurts, filling out the front of his jeans to their uncomfortable limits. He’s never heard you say his name like that.
For a split second, he thinks you must be fucking with him. That you know he’s out there and you’re doing this on purpose, but not even you would go this far just to mess with him. At least, he’s pretty sure.
It’s him, he realizes. In your mind, it’s him that’s fucking you right now, pounding you into your bed with as much brutal indelicacy as the awkward angle allows, making you squirm and sigh and curl your toes. You want to fuck him, but you’re fucking that stupid thing instead, and he might be the most offended that he’s ever been in his life that you could possibly think he wouldn’t gladly take its place.
You’re so goddamn soaked that at one point, it nearly slips out of your hand, and Eddie has to bite down hard on his lip to not make a sound. When another semi-intelligible word leaves your lips, one that sounds mind-meltingly close to harder, he grabs desperately at the front of his pants—not taking advantage, just…keeping it in check.
He has no idea how long he’s been watching by the time your climax sneaks up on you. Your thrusts become impatient and imprecise, your hips wiggling with need, and, with rising whines that get harder and harder to hold back, it seems to hit you like a freight train.
“Eddie, fuck, m’gonna—!”
You bite down on your pillow and sob. Your entire body trembles with the force of it, and Eddie watches in slack-jawed disbelief as the fabric between your thighs stains dark. Your messy release gushes out of you, soaking your underwear and the towel beneath you, droplets flinging around wildly as you fuck yourself through it, struggling to keep forcing the toy into your tight, spasming hole, then mashing it in as deep as you can as you ride through the aftershocks.
No porn tape he’s ever watched, no horny daydream he’s ever indulged in can compare to the absolute vision you’ve just (not) allowed him to witness. Eddie can’t take it. Almost as if it really had been his cock fucking you into waterworks, a mortifying, hands-free orgasm rips through him like the fuse burning out on a bottle rocket. He has to slap one hand over his mouth to clamp down on a pathetic whimper, the other clutching helplessly at himself as he paints the inside of his boxers like a fucking teenager, and his eyes finally leave your twitching body to roll straight back into his head.
While he’s seizing up, the lack of purchase makes him slide just a few inches on the slanted roof. Before he’s even fully out of it, a panicked impulse tears his hand off of his mouth and plants it dead center on your window pane with a dull thud.
…Fuck.
He’s screwed. He’s screwed, he’s screwed, he’s screwed, his life is over, you’re going to fucking slaughter him and no one will even find the body. That is, unless he gets his act together and bolts right now. Maybe if he scrambles his way down the roof with no regard for the health of his joints and books it back to the van—
It’s too late. The blinds scrunch up, but maybe it’s too dark for you to recognize him, maybe if he goes now you’ll think it was just some other random pervert enjoying the show, and—
No, it’s really too late. You force the window up and stare out at him, looking a lot like you just witnessed the bloodiest, most unspeakable murder in Hawkins’ history. He imagines his own face must look about the same.
“...Eddie,” you say. Stiff and quiet, almost a question.
His pounding heart must be blocking his throat. He can’t say a damn thing for himself.
You stare at him a moment longer, and then shove the window even further open and step back into the room. He figures there’s no room for discussion.
He climbs through your window like he has a million times before and stands rigidly in the middle of your room, hands sort of shaking, wondering if this is the last invitation inside he’ll ever get, and if admitting that he kind-of sort-of thinks he might be in love with you would more help or hurt his case at the moment.
He also tries desperately, violently, not to stare at the soaked-through panties that are still, for some reason, the only thing you’re wearing on the bottom, or the towel, the towel, the drenched goddamn towel just sitting out in the open on your bed.
“Did you…see everything?” you ask, just as incapable of eye contact as he is at the moment.
“No,” Eddie sputters automatically, “no, fuck, I didn’t— I mean I saw— I didn’t see all of it.”
He sure as shit saw everything that mattered, though. A long silence stretches out.
“Um…”
You cross your arms across your chest, holding yourself, feeling, he can guess, completely and utterly humiliated, and Eddie feels it too, like a knife through his chest.
“...Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he says. “I didn’t— I mean, I just… And, shit, you keep telling me not to, and I—”
“What’s that?”
Eddie cuts his blubbering apology off and follows your line of sight right down to the crotch of his jeans. More specifically, the dark, incredibly obvious stain bleeding through them. Another wave of horror crashes into him.
“No, no, I swear to fucking God, I wasn’t jacking off, I just…”
“You were just watching.”
He doesn’t know what to say. You swallow, still staring at the stain, and your arms fall back to your sides.
“...Eddie, are you saying that you jizzed your pants just watching me?”
Eddie’s never felt this hot in his entire life. He’s almost surprised he can’t hear all the skin on his face sizzling and popping like bacon in a cast iron skillet. He can’t do anything but stare at you with wide, guilty eyes, and wonder when the hell you’re going to come to your senses and start shouting at him.
Agonizingly slowly, your gaze flutters up to his face, and when it gets there, it’s carrying something he doesn’t recognize. You chew on your lip for a moment, blinking at him as you think.
“...Wanna sleep over?”
And just like that, his flaccid, sticky, absolute traitor of a dick rouses again with a disbelieving little twitch.
-
thanks for reading! feedback is always welcome 💞 likes, comments, + reblogs would be much appreciated!
I saw a few similar ideas from these posts (ana/byrds) but wanted to try a slightly different approach for my own style. Asks will be filled on Tumblr or my Ao3 (Bundollier).
How to Play:
Suggest 1-2 characters, pick a number between 1-200, and optionally select a feeling/trope and/or a universe.
Feel free to give more or less details but these will be generally used as warm ups so the final product would be between 300-1000 WC.
You can suggest things outside the list too, I'm pretty open.
💞
Pick a number: 1- 200 (this has nothing to do with the order they'll be filled)
Character / Pairing - DC characters (you can suggest a few different pairings or characters)
Optional Tropes: (you can pick outside this list)
Platonic
Romantic
Secret Reveal
Mission gone wrong
Food is love
Identity Issues
Getting Together
Trust
First Kiss/Last Kiss
Soul mates
Angst/Sorrow
Domestic
Soft /Fluff
Humor
Tenderness
Admiration
Lust
Hope
Meet Cute / Meet Ugly
Universe:
DCU comics (feel free to specify a particular comic canon or just select for the more standard character interpretations)
Alternate Universe - Magic
Alternate Universe - Shifters or Animal Traits
Alternate Universe - Space / Sci Fic
Alternate Universe - Historical
Alternate Universe - Omegaverse
Alternate Universe - you tell me 😁
I won't do crossovers to other fandoms, Titans 2018 TV show, Young Justice 2010 Cartoon characterizations or DCEU. (DCAU is perfectly okay.) Also note the rarer the character, the less likely I'll feel comfortable writing them.
FiaExu, battle deployment aftercare where they won but it was Bad, and Exusiai took a big hit for Fia
Alright! I can do that.
-
The ride back to the landship is quiet. Everyone knows to brace, to prepare themselves for difficult missions when the Doctor is occupied somewhere else. To prepare for the worst.
Nobody is unscathed. Half their team have major injuries of some description. That much is expected: it’s not guaranteed, but you never bet it’ll be better than that.
But it isn’t worse, either. The mood isn’t solemn, and she can be proud of that. Her music playing quietly with the rumble of the engines keeps it just a little lighter. Things aren’t good, but they aren’t settling heavy and final in the atmosphere: you have to keep your head up. You have to keep moving forward. Or you won’t be able to any more.
Exusiai’s own injuries are barely worth mentioning. Not life-threatening, and they’ve been triaged well. It hurts, it really hurts. But if you had to call her expression something, it would be a smile. She’s satisfied. It’s worth doing everything she can, if the future is just a little bit lighter than it could’ve been.
And, well…
She glances over at where Fiammetta sits, forearms on her knees, launcher propped against her shoulder, staring at the ground. Her brows are furrowed. It looks like she took it all the hardest, even though she’s uninjured. But Exusiai is just glad she’s here.
That her presence isn’t just a figment of an overeager imagination, or a fleeting thing, a coming absence that threatens to vindicate her constant worry.
At least not yet.
Not if she has anything to say about it.
The time passes, and they dock with Rhodes Island. The wind swirls at Nearl’s loose hairs and the hem of her uniform dress as she waits at the landing pad, hands resting on the hilt of her mace. She receives them and their report, seriously but not unkindly, as they disembark the VTOL, tablet in hand confirming operator status. She radios them in, and directs the injured toward the infirmary for closer care.
-
Whistling to herself, she heads through the quiet upper hallways, rarely used except when a mission is in progress or people are moving to and from the helipad.
The busier part of the landship waits behind that last door in front of her. The part that’s full of life, that she can just lose herself in and not worry about whether everything is okay.
“Wait.”
A strong hand settles heavy on her uninjured shoulder, and turns her around.
Her mouth goes dry. Fiammetta is a full head taller than her. And bigger, bulkier. She’s tense, something barely contained. Her eyes are intense.
“Fiammetta. Hey.” Her voice cracks. “What’s-“
Her other hand reaches out and presses against a door scanner for an empty multipurpose room. She doesn’t take her eyes off Exusiai’s as it hisses open.
Her heart drops into her stomach.
Fiammetta turns her with the hand on her shoulder and marches her into the room.
She shuts the door behind them.
“W-what can I do for-“
“Lemuel, what the hell was that?”
“You know, we’re both Rhodes Island operators now, you should really call me Ex-“
“El.”
Suddenly she finds she’s choked up. She trails off, disarmed.
“The Doctor wasn’t there, and none of our comrades today knew firearms, so they couldn’t tell.” Her voice is heavy with emotion, kept carefully steady. In it, she can hear the years they were apart, the years separating the fiery defiance of the Fiammetta she knew from this brooding control. “But you know it, and I know it. When people hear gunfire, especially bursts of gunfire on the battlefield, it’s the first place they look. It makes you a fucking target, Lemuel. So why were you standing exposed so far apart from our squad? Why… were we in the perfect position to flank the enemy as they come to you?” Fiammetta closes her eyes, and lets out a shuddering, seething breath, before staring Lemuel down, gaze steady. “Clearly you don’t want anyone else to know what you’re doing. So I waited. I took you aside in private. Now don’t bullshit me.”
She… they just started talking again. It’s been years. Who is Fiammetta to come and press her on how she should live her life, when she wouldn’t be a part of it?
There’s a part of her that’s incensed, that wants to get angry. But she doesn’t trust her enough yet to get angry at her. So she traps that tension up inside herself instead. She’s good at it.
“I’d rather get a little banged up than watch someone get hurt and regret not being there. Not doing more.”
Fiammetta’s eyes flicker. Her momentum dies. For a second, she breaks eye contact before it returns, studying.
It’s. To be seen, scrutinized, cared about enough for someone to do those things, whatever the reason. She can’t help but feel it’s really nice, even if she doesn’t trust it. Even if Fiammetta won’t tell her what happened.
“But why go so far?”
She tilts her head to the side, smiling. Does she have to say it?
Evidently not. “…For people you don’t even—I know you don’t know half of the people from our operation. You’re a contract Operator. I saw you playing icebreakers with them on the ride in.”
“…If I can make people happy. If I can make things turn out a little better. Then there’s hope, right? Something positive is happening. Something I can feel. And then, maybe things might change. I have to keep thinking like that. Even if it’s dangerous… it’s more dangerous not to.”
Fiammetta grits her teeth. Her eye contact drops again.
Exusiai smiles again. She puts a hand on Fiammetta’s shoulder, draws her eyes back. “…And you’re here now. I don’t want to… I can’t say goodbye just yet.” Even if she can’t control it. She has to act like she can. Has to do what she can.
Fiammetta sucks in a breath.
“…And you? What if you get hurt? Who’s looking out for you?”
“Well, Texas, sometimes. When she can.”
Fiammetta’s eyes glint. “When she can?”
“Sure, she’s not my mom. I’m pretty good at taking care of myself, you know.” She winks, and makes a peace sign with her good arm. “I’ve made it work so far, right?”
“…Yeah. I guess you have.”
Fiammetta steps back from her, to a conversational distance.
“…I can’t tell you to stop.”
“Nope! You could probably report me, though.”
Despite her stony expression, Fiammetta lets out a puff of amusement.
She halfway turns around, not looking at Exusiai.
“The next time you’re planning to do something stupid like that, let me know. I can get myself reassigned to your squad.”
She knows better than to let herself get invested just from something like that. But she’s always been too easy.
“Okay,” she says, in a quiet little voice.
Fiammetta heads for the door.
“Come on. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” She opens it and stops, waving her card. “I’ll treat you to some gelato on the way.”
Exusiai smiles. “Fia… they don’t have gelato here.”
She blinks. “You’re fucking kidding me! …Well, you know what I mean.”
would you write some cute fluff of alexia being cute nervous to ask reader to move in with her, even though she has no need at all to worry?
“Is it just me or is Alexia acting weird today?” you ask Lucy, as the two of you stretch together in the gym before training.
“Dunno,” Lucy shrugs. “I haven’t noticed anything. But you know her better than I do.”
Alexia has been acting strangely around you for the last couple of days. You’ve managed to keep your romantic relationship and your professional lives pretty separate since you started dating a few months ago, but your teammates all know that you’re together and you never completely ignore each other at work. But Alexia has been weird the last couple of days, keeping more of a distance, being slightly jumpy around you, like she’s nervous by your presence. When you arrived at training this morning, she pretty much ran in the other direction when you tried to greet her with a kiss outside the dressing room, claiming that she had a meeting with Jonatan before training.
“There’s definitely something up,” you muse aloud, watching Alexia across the gym, where she’s loading plates onto the chest press machine with Mapi.
“Maybe she’s…” Lucy starts, but the cheeky grin slides off her face almost as quickly as it appears, and she adds, “Nah, I can’t say that.”
“Say what?”
“It’s nothing,” Lucy tries to dismiss it, folding her body almost in half against the yoga mat as she stretches.
“Lucy,” you warn her.
“Fine,” Lucy rolls her eyes as she sits upright again. “I was gonna make a joke that maybe she’s gonna break up with you, but then I realised that if she does break up with you it’s not a very funny joke.”
“She’s going to break up with me?” you ask, your eyes widening in panic. In all your consideration for the cause of Alexia’s weird behaviour over the last couple of days, you hadn’t paused to think that maybe it’s because she wants to end your relationship.
“No, I didn’t mean…” Lucy starts, in an attempt to fix what she’s said.
“But you said if she breaks up with me,” you point out. “Which means that you think there’s a chance she could.”
“Forget I said anything, it was just a silly joke. I don’t think she’s going to break up with you.”
But now that the idea is in your head, you can’t think of anything else. It all starts to make sense now, the distance, the jumpiness, the nerves. She wants to end the relationship, she’s just waiting for the right moment.
“Oh god, she is going to break up with me,” you say aloud, trying to do the maths in your head to work out when the last time one of you spent the night at the other’s apartment was. Four days, at least, maybe even five.
“I was just kidding,” Lucy tries to reason with you. “Alexia adores you.”
“Maybe not anymore. Not if she’s going to dump me.”
You glance over at Alexia again, only to find her eyes on you this time, and she quickly looks away, diving into a deep discussion with Mapi with their hands covering their mouths that can only be about you. Probably about wanting to break up with you.
“For fuck’s sake, she’s your girlfriend,” Lucy says, rolling her eyes. “Just go and talk to her.”
Lucy’s right, until Alexia actually tells you that she’s breaking up with you, she’s still your girlfriend and you have every right to want to talk to her in the gym. So you push yourself up to your feet and cross over, catching the end of Mapi’s sentence as you get close enough.
“… so talk to her and get it over with.”
“Yeah, Alexia,” you say, alerting your girlfriend to your presence behind her. “Get it over with. Break up with me, if that’s what you want.”
Alexia had seemed nervous when you arrived at her side, but when she hears what you have to say, the nerves disappear and her eyes almost bulge out of her skull in surprise.
“Break up with you?”
Mapi, you notice, is suddenly very interested in checking the weights on the nearby barbell, giving you and Alexia at least the pretence of some privacy.
“I don’t want to break up with you,” Alexia almost laughs.
“Wait, you don’t?”
“No!”
“But you …” you stammer, frowning as you try to remember why you thought she was about to end your relationship. “You’ve been weird the last couple of days. Distant. Nervous. Like you were trying to figure out the best time to end it.”
Alexia actually does laugh this time, tipping her head back, and you can’t help but feel like you’re missing the punchline of the joke.
“I haven’t been distant and nervous because I wanted to break up with you,” Alexia explains, taking your hand in hers and running her thumb over the back of your fingers. “It’s because I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask you to move in with me.”
“Oh.” Your process Alexia’s words and it all starts to make sense. Relief floods through your body as you realise that your relationship isn’t coming to an end, but instead reaching an exciting new milestone. “You want me to live with you?”
“Yeah,” Alexia nods. “I know it’s soon. I know we’ve only been together for a few months, that you’ve been living in Barcelona for less than a year, but my life revolves around you. I want to go home with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning. And if you think we need more time then I’ll happily wait, but you’re it for me and I can’t imagine my life with anybody else.”
“Yes, I’ll move in with you,” you say, putting Alexia out of her misery as it’s her turn for relief to wash over her face.
“Thank god,” she says. “I was so worried you’d think I was moving too fast. But why did you think I was going to break up with you?”
“Well, I didn’t until Lucy said…”
As soon as you mention Lucy’s name, Alexia is looking around the gym for your English teammate.
“Lucia!” Alexia bellows across the gym.
You watch as Lucy scrambles to her feet, muttering something about hearing Jonatan calling her name as she practically sprints out of the gym to avoid facing the wrath of her captain.
“Note to self,” you say aloud, for your own amusement as much as Alexia’s. “Don’t take advice from Lucy.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Alexia hums in agreement.
This worked well on my other blog, so I'm gonna try it here too!
Send me your selfship and a lil prompt, and I'll write a lil scene/ficlet about them! They can be as precise or as open ended as you like, though I cannot guarantee I will be able to get to every one, and on any grounds I have the right to refuse requests. Poly ships are welcome, but at most I will accept up to three characters, at least for now. Make sure to also give a prompt, either a specific mood (fluff, angst, etc) or an elaborate scene, and tell me a bit about your selfship if you'd like! Just be aware these are meant to be short, simple scenes, so nothing too in-depth, yeh?
Fandoms I can work in:
Invincible (TV show based, please)
Marvel & DC Comics (as well as derivative works like TV shows, movies, animated series, and so forth; may not be familiar with certain incarnations over others)
Fallout—all games and the TV show
Five Nights at Freddy's—games 1-6 and Security Breach and Secret of the Mimic
Date Everything!, but I will not write for Lux, Eddie & Volt, Daemon, or the DLC dateables at this time.
Super Mario (games and films)
One Piece (manga and live-action)
She-Ra (2018 reboot series only)
Any fandom I already have an f/o in as seen here, but I am more likely to take requests from the fandoms listed above.
Can-Dos:
Fluff
Angst
Bad ends
x reader scenes (please provide specifics on the reader if preferred)
Any kind of selfship—romantic, platonic, familia, queerplatonic, what have ya.
Canon x Canon relationships
OC x Canon
Simple AUs
No-Nos:
Intense description of gore
Smut or otherwise NSFW text (light suggestiveness is okay)
Certain fandoms
Maybes:
Fandoms I am somewhat familiar with (no guarantees)
Doubles—usually I'm chill with y'all, but I find it hard to write for doubles at times. Please consider this tierlist; mains and primaries are off limits, secondaries are case by case, while tertiaries are fine. If we know each other, that's fine, but otherwise, be mindful.
If you enjoy what I wrote, consider leaving a tip: https://ko-fi.com/thatowlguy28
I'm liking this format so far, but I wanted to update some rules and expand on things a tad.
Send me some characters (max of three) and a kink set up, and I'll try and write a lil scene/ficlet based on that prompt. They can be as precise or as open ended as you like, but I also have the right to deny any request on any grounds, and I cannot guarantee every request will be responded too. Also, at minimum, I need a character and a kink; requests that are just a character are not likely to get filled!
Sequels to previous requests are possible!
Fandoms I will write in:
Invincible (specifically the TV show)
Marvel Comics / DC Comics (movies, animated shows, games)
Fallout (All games + TV show)
Pokémon (Mainline and Legends—no anime, PMD, or side games)
Five Nights at Freddy's (1-6 + Security Breach + Secret of the Mimic)
Date Everything! (All dateables + humans sans Lux, Eddie & Volt, and the DLC dateables)
Super Mario
One Piece
Five Fantasy XV (The boys + Lunafreya only)
She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018 reboot)
Kinks:
Pregnancy (female, male, nb, other; will prioritize fpreg)
Weight gain
Stuffing
Inflation
Transformation
Anything not explicitly against
No-Nos:
OCs (mutuals are allowed to request my OCs or OCs of their own)
Sex
Anything else I have established not liking
If you like what I write, consider leaving a tip: https://ko-fi.com/thatowlguy28
hmm what if wammys secret Santa and mello and near got assigned to each other
HI thank you for this prompt, i love it ^_^ gently placing your fill below (~500 words) i may write the scene where they exchange their gifts, too, in which case i'll update this (& probably upload to AO3 <3)
When Mello receives his assignment for secret Santa, he sees it for what it is: an act of sabotage.
“Think about it, Matt,” he mutters to his best friend, pacing the length of the room they share. “Roger hates me. He knows I hate Near. He’s trying to set me up, right, because he thinks I’ll get Near something shitty, and then he’ll be able to give me extra chores or something for bullying him.”
“You pulled Near’s name from the hat,” Matt points out. “I’m not sure how Roger would’ve rigged that to happen.”
Mello waves his hand dismissively. “I can think of, like, a hundred ways to do it. It’s not that hard.” A pause. “Anyway, like I was saying, he thinks I’m gonna fall for it. He thinks I’m such a stupid piece of shit that I’ll just walk right into his trap, but that’s where he’s wrong.”
“What are you going to do?” Matt asks nervously.
“I,” Mello says, “am going to get Near a present that’s so good, and so thoughtful, that it completely blows his fucking mind. It’s going to be so good it changes his life. And then— and then, this is the best part, because Near’s just gonna get something small and dumb for whoever he has, and he’s gonna look like an idiot having to follow my gift.”
Matt says something in response to this, but Mello isn’t listening. His eyes are already on the prize— and he has work to do.
—
When Near receives his assignment for secret Santa, he counts himself lucky. He’s pleased, but apprehensive. Selecting and obtaining a gift Mello will enjoy may help him convey the depth of his care for the other boy, but it is not an easy task, and he is working under a short deadline. Christmas is in only ten days.
He takes to his duty with all the dedication he typically devotes to his studies. With the semester over, he has the time and energy to scrutinize what he knows about Mello, and to translate that information into a choice of gift. In the end, Near concludes that no one present will be satisfactory. Mello’s interests are diverse, and so must be Near’s offerings.
The days tick by, and Near crosses items off his list. He obtains an expensive notebook with buttery paper from a shop in town, and a beautiful fountain pen. He purchases several skeins of soft yarn and teaches himself to knit, producing a satisfactory scarf and something that almost looks like a hat. He throws the “hat” under his bed and obtains a pair of earmuffs to replace it.
This last purchase almost exhausts Near’s allowance stockpile. He frowns over the money he has left. It is not quite enough to pay for the box of chocolates he originally had his eye on, and he is not skilled enough to make confection from scratch.
His intention was to work alone, but these are desperate times.
I want Taurtis to just come up behind Grian and hug him.
I want cuddles and giggling kisses.
please Spore….I beg
Happy Taurian, you ask? Hmmm I suppose I could possibly allow that to exist (I've needed an excuse to write these two all cute and lovey-dovey recently anyways)
Morning's Touch
pure Taurtis x Grian fluff for our friendly neighborhood deity
It’s morning, but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Sunlight is yet to breach the clouds and chase away the darkness and the clock on my phone reads 4:08. But I’ve just returned from a trip last night, and my brain is still functioning in a completely different time zone. I’m wide awake, have been for the last three hours since I slipped out of bed and came downstairs. I went for a walk, hoping that would quell my restlessness, then when that didn’t work went back upstairs to play Minecraft until I was distracted by a distinct ache of hunger. Which is why I’m downstairs at the kind of hour I should never be awake, trying to make myself breakfast as silently as possible. I could’ve just grabbed a snack, I know that, but I’ve been craving waffles for the last week. And not just any, the kind I make. There’s something special about it, okay? No judging, I’m a suffering, starving man. And my husband hasn’t been awake yet, since I got home at eleven last night and as much as I’ve missed him, he looked too content sleeping to wake up. Suffering, I say, suffering. I had to steal his favorite jumper when I woke up to cope.
I’m listening to music, just whatever plays on the playlist I made the mistake of allowing the Evo-Empires gang to add to, and I’ve never heard such a mood shift as when it changes from songs added by Pearl – calm, sweet, cute, a great vibe for breakfast at four am – to songs added by Joel – did it have to be heavy metal? – and everything in between. It is fun to guess who added them, I suppose I can give the idiots that point. But still, we could’ve had a little collaboration going on. Oh, who am I kidding, I know I love it.
And speaking of loving things- one of those things is absolutely the waffles I’ve just flipped onto my plate and piled with an unhealthy but very whimsical amount of whipped cream, syrup, and fudge. The first bite burns my mouth, as impatient as I am, and I wince, getting to my feet and hurrying to fill a cup with water. I’ll have to deal with the heat of them in favor of the absolutely divine taste.
I’m halfway through filling the glass when suddenly arms wrap around me from behind. I stifle a yelp, managing not to drop my cup or spill water over my hands but just barely. I hear the soft, sleepy laughter from behind me and a smile crosses my face before I can stop it. I melt back into Taurtis’s touch, leaning my head against his chest and letting him rest his chin on my shoulder. He pulls me closer, hands closing on my sweater as if I could ever want to end one of these embraces so swiftly, and his breath ghosts over my skin.
“Good morning, birdie.” He hums, “I’m guessing that’s a no to sleeping well?”
I laugh, gentle and warm and fond, “It was easier with you than it was first few days of my trip, is that the answer you’re looking for?”
He pauses as if to think, though I know this early that’s a foreign concept to my husband, “Hmm, it’s not, not what I’m looking for.”
I turn partially towards him, placing my water on the counter so I can reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair, “What about this, then?” And I pull him in for a kiss.
His lips are as soft as always, warm and flavored with his vanilla chapstick, and I feel the small nick in the bottom one from the old scar, the one he got while skateboarding. He said that the pole got in his way, but Pearl keeps reminding him he was too busy staring at me to notice it. He still blushes when I tease him about it, adorable as always.
My free hand finds its way to his face, dancing over the soft scruff that he often forgets to shave if I don’t remind him. It mirrors my own, though I at least have the excuse of forgetting my razor at home. My fingers slip upwards, cupping his cheeks so my thumb can reach to gently brush his eyebrow piercing, one he often forgets is even there, and the tips of my index and middle fingers graze the three piercings in his ear. He reaches up to capture my hand in his, twining our fingers together as he turns me further into the kiss, our matching wedding rings clinking gently together. When we pull apart his breathing is slightly shallow, and I grin, pressing another soft kiss to the line of his jaw. He lets out a quiet giggle.
“Miss me, Gri?” Taurtis whispers, cupping my chin and kissing my forehead.
“Who wouldn’t?” I breathe back, my kisses continuing down his jaw to his throat, dancing down it until I reach his collarbone and trail my fingers over his arm, leading my lips to the back of his hand. When I pull back his smile is wide, infectious, and obviously impossible to get rid of. I return the smile with a proud gleam to my eyes and he rolls his own eyes, kissing me full on the mouth again.
“I can think of several people who wouldn’t actually.”
“Yes, well, unfortunately they’re very wrong about just about everything, so perhaps let’s only care what each other think for today, hm?” I tease, flicking him in the chest as I finally extract myself from his hold. He pouts and reaches out to try to pull me back, summoning an eye-roll from me. “My love, I have got to eat breakfast.”
Taking my hands, he steps back towards the table, sitting down in my vacated seat and giving me those childish puppy-dog eyes he knows never fail to send a rush of affection through my heart, “Could sit in my lap, that might work.”
I pull my hands away, raising an eyebrow, “Are you twenty-four or fourteen, sweet?”
“Mature twenty-four-year-old, I’ll have you know, mister.” He scoffs, “It’s a genuine suggestion!”
“You and I know both know neither of those are true. Up, up, give me my seat back.” I’m still smiling, despite the disapproving shake I give my head.
Taurtis frowns, thinking for a second, then gets to his feet, “Just take it upstairs, we can cuddle while you eat.”
“That’s a recipe for disaster, baby.” But I’m already gathering my plate and my water and giving him a look, “Any of this gets on the sheets and you’re washing them, deal?”
“Of course, darling.” With one more kiss, he sweeps out of the room before me, “C’mon, hurry up.”
I roll my eyes as I follow, “Very mature, hm?”
“Very!” He calls softly, careful to keep his voice low enough not to wake my sister as we pass her room. He holds the door to our room open like I’m royalty and with a laugh I do the best curtsy I can with my hands full, dramatically thanking him with nonsense flowery language. I set down the food on the nightstand, pulling off his jumper to lessen the chances of it being ruined, and as soon as my wings have spread behind me he takes my hand and pulls me very unceremoniously onto the mattress. I let out a giggly yelp that’s quickly silences by his lips, though he’s also smiling into the kiss.
I pull back after a moment, still laughing. Our hair spreads messily out on the white pillows and his arms have slipped back around my waist. I’m slightly above him on the bed, his face about level with my neck, and his hands are splayed on my back, fingers close enough to my wings he can scratch gently at them. He’s doing just that, and curse this beautiful idiot because it has the exact desired effect of getting me to relax into his touch, my eyes fluttering closed. It’s peaceful, quiet, the air just the right temperature, and he’s managed over the last few years to find all the spots that he knows could get me to fall asleep in moments.
In fact, I have to forcibly push away the dredges of shadows that start gathering comfortingly in my brain in favor of shoving him lightly. Taurtis grins, all mischief and false innocence, and I roll my eyes. Sticking my tongue out at him, I sit up. He stays where he lies, cuddling up against me as I pick my plate back up and grab my phone from beside it. My husband wraps his arms around me like I’m a giant pillow or stuffed animal, and who am I to deny him when an adorable peacefulness descends over his expression?
He falls asleep within minutes, but he doesn’t pull away. By the time I finish eating, I don’t have to think before lying back down, hiding my face in his shirt front. Even in his sleep, he doesn’t hesitate to pull me close, and not long after I am once again being lured into a world that this time I don’t think to resist.
