#and then stealing the potatoes (?) or whatever that is
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Never seen that color blue
Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 4.5k | Warnings: smut, PIV, unprotected sex, fingering, angst city baby population: me
Summary: follow up to 'I pretend you're mind all the damn time'. You and Azriel return home from that fateful mission. How will you two cope with your recent discoveries?
Author’s note: eeeek everyone loved part one and I was so happy bc I adored it so much and I was so glad to see such a good response!!! Anyway shout out to Hope @prythianpages she’s a real one she helped me with some plot stuff thank you thank you 🥰
Your sighs lived in Azriel’s ears, carried on the wind by his shadows. How they carried it he’s not sure - your sighs were left behind, echoing through the hall in that Illyrian camp he unceremoniously left.
He was so used to using his shadows as a shield to hide at least some part of himself. They had disappeared that night, making it impossible for him to hide the way you shine in his thoughts. The way everything he does brings him back to you. Before, he hadn't realized just how much of his life revolved around you - you had crept into the crevices of the day to day monotony of living together.
Every day he’d make some snide comment to Cassian, waiting to tell you about it so he could watch you scrunch your nose and laugh at whatever response Cassian had. If he was lucky, you’d throw out a hand onto his bicep, his skin immediately tattooing your touch into his memory.
Every day he would help you make lunch, stealing the occasional strawberry. You would swat at him, calling him a 'berry burglar'. It was a title he wore with pride, even more so when you had made him a ridiculous party hat for his birthday with the moniker across the top.
Every day during dinner you would steal something from his plate, whether it be a carrot or potato or bite of meat. You would say it was retribution for what he stole during lunch, and he’d allow it, a small smile on his face at your thieving.
From the entire flight home to now, two weeks later, his skin had remained on fire from your touch. Every nerve ending screamed your name, your scent, your heat. His thoughts were consumed by you previously, but now it was as if every thought had a backing track of your voice, your skin, your touch.
He tried to ignore it, tried to push it down, down, down. But every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts kept going back to the obscenities of that day. The way you looked as you rode him, how you laid yourself bare before him. The curve of your hips, the swell of your breasts. Your legs on either side of him, your mouth on his. The way your fingers touched his wings.
Gods, your fingers. How delicately you had touched him, as if he had ever been a fragile creature deserving of such tenderness. He had never let anyone touch his wings before, determined to leave some part of himself untouched if the Mother would ever bless him with a mate.
He doesn't care much about that now.
The images tortured him, finding him everywhere he went. At meals, in the shower, as he roamed the halls searching for your scent while still avoiding you. The worst was when he slept, he only dreamt of that night over and over again. He became insatiable. He was terrible for fisting his cock to the way you felt around him, the moans you made, how beautiful you had looked bare before him.
He was terrible for it not making a difference. He’d finish, shame and embarrassment coating him as his cock would immediately get hard again.
He didn’t know how to convey that he wanted more. He wanted you, all of you. Not when he practically forced himself on you once before. Not when he was burying himself away in his room, hiding in his shadows in the places in between, to avoid even a glimpse of you.
-
The flight home from that mission was the worst experience of your life. The only sound was the wind whipping around you two, his grip on you barely there. He kept you as far from his body as he could, and you couldn’t blame him. You had just violated him, for cauldron’s sake. And yet, your skin thrummed where his body made contact with yours, even through the multiple layers of leathers between you two.
The wind whipped into your eyes, making them an even harsher shade of red. The debrief with Rhys didn't even register to you, you couldn't recall a single moment of it even if you tried. Explanations of the mission were given from both you and Azriel, but the high lord knew something was wrong between you two.
Your eyes downcast to the floor, your thumb rubbing the skin of your other hand seeking some comfort. Azriel's wings twitched every so often, the only tell Rhys has ever been able to figure out from his brother.
You expected Azriel to tell Rhysand of your actions, asking him to execute you on the spot. You’d deserve nothing less.
But those words never came.
The meeting went by in a blur - your only memory of it is the back of Azriel's wings as you both left Rhys's office. The membranous skin was so close, and now you knew what it felt like. How incredibly smooth it felt as your fingers glided over the veins, feeling where his bones were underneath.
Your hands itched to reach out to feel them again. Instead you watched the back of him until he retreated into the room opposite your own, closing the door quickly behind him. Leaving you, yet again, alone, with more questions than ever before on the wrong side of the door, the answers you need behind it.
You considered knocking, bringing your hand up to the oak finish of his door. You hold your fist in the air, ready to strike, when you can't bring yourself to do it. Instead, you lower your arm, softly padding into the room across the hall, seeking comfort in your own bed.
You woke up the next day after a fitful sleep, one of dreams haunted by the male who slept across the hall from you. You moved to your bathroom, surveying your body in the aftermath of the mission. Not much bruising from the actual mission, but you were littered with Azriel’s touch.
You can make out all of his fingers on the bruising on your hips, your knees battered from the harsh desk you kneeled atop.
You’re sure Azriel’s back is littered with similar bruising.
Neither of you mentioned what happened in that room to anyone.
A week passes by, neither of you were brave enough to talk to the other or to anyone else. You don’t even see Azriel, not even a glimpse of his scent lingered in the hallways of the House of Wind.
You asked Cassian, and he told you that Azriel’s been around the house, but you two must be missing each other. You miss the curious gaze Cassian gives you, taking in your dark eyes, comparing them to the same bags underneath his brother’s eyes.
After you left, Cassian kept thinking about you and the sad look in your eyes as you said his brother’s name. He kept thinking as he continued making his lunch, thinking about how strangely the two of you had been acting for the past week.
Today marked an entire week since either you or Azriel have shown up to Valkyrie training. He was well aware that the training was somewhat optional, and that you two missed it whenever you were away on missions. But you were here in the house, you just came by to speak with him, but you wouldn’t come to training.
Cassian sighed, feeling like he was losing his godsdamn mind over the realization that something was wrong. Because it wasn’t just training. It was dinners, lunches, drinks, everything. At this point Cassian could be convinced fairly easily that the two of you moved out.
He huffed, knowing he’d have to do something about this mess. He was always cleaning up his brother's messes when it came to females. Rhys and Azriel just didn’t understand them the way Cassian did.
The opportunity for Cassian to act came when he happened across Azriel in an unused room in the House of Wind doing paperwork. He quickly slipped away, not wanting Azriel to catch wind of him being nearby and to leave abruptly.
He ran down to the kitchen, searching for you. He pulled you off your stool, telling you he had something important to show you.
“Shh, come on, you gotta be quiet or it’ll ruin the surprise.”
You rolled your eyes, but allowed him to slip you through the halls. He walked down one of the house's many hallways, stopping in front of a door you actually weren’t sure where it led to. Cassian opened the door and pushed you inside.
You hear the lock on the other side twist, shutting you inside. You turn around, trying the handle, only to find it not budging. You turn on the spot, resting your back against the door. Your palms are sweating as you look over to Azriel, shocked to find him in here. He looked just as bewildered to find you in here as you felt.
Stupid Cassian being a stupid busybody.
Breathe in, breathe out.
You calm yourself enough to open your mouth, only able to get out “Az-“ before the shadowsinger folded into his shadows, his hazel eyes the last thing you saw before he began disappearing before you. Your breaths become more ragged as you sink down to the floor, the reality of the situation sinking in.
He hated you.
And he should.
He couldn’t even stay in the same room as you.
Your voice is soft after you spend a few moments searching for it. “Cassian, please,” you whimper through the door, “he’s gone.”
Cassian unlocks the door, wide eyed looking down at you sitting on the floor. You can’t look at him, slowly rising back onto your feet. The shame, the embarrassment floods you as you walk past him, not answering his questions or his confused gaze.
You open the door to your room, laying down in bed and just crying. He won’t even look at you after what you’ve done to him.
Cauldron, what have you done?
Cassian stops by at some point, dropping off some water and some food. You have no idea what time it is, you don’t hear whatever it is he says, hardly register his presence as he climbs into your bed, pulling you into his warm chest.
It was then you broke your silence, repeating, “I fucked up, he won’t even look at me” over and over until you eventually wore yourself out.
You woke up the next day, eyes puffy from crying all night.
You know what you have to do, but you don’t want to. You get dressed, heading through the house to Cassian’s door. You knock swiftly, head swiveling down the hall to ensure Azriel isn’t lingering about. Nesta opens the door, her hair wet from her fresh from training bath.
“Can we talk?”
-
After explaining your thoughts and plans to them, both of them against your ideas but still not knowing exactly why you feel the need to do this, Cassian flies you to the River House, dropping you off to speak with Rhys while he goes and spends some time with Feyre.
You knock on the door to Rhys’s office, and he quickly opens the door letting you in before leaning against his desk, bracing his hands behind him.
You sit in the chair across from him, nervously twisting one of your rings trying to figure out how to start this conversation, when Rhys’s voice interrupts your thoughts.
“You want to leave.”
Stupid Cassian butting in again.
“Is this because of-“ he twirls his hands around in the air- “whatever’s going on between you and Azriel?”
There’s no point in hiding it anymore.
“Yes.”
Your tone is flat, trying to keep it together when all you want to do is fall apart. Everything was wrong, so so so wrong.
“And you think running away will fix your problems?”
“I’m not running away,” your tone becomes more defensive, “I messed up, he won’t look at me anymore, I’m giving him space.”
“How long will you give him this space?”
“However long it takes me to be able to look in the mirror again.”
Rhys’s smugness deflates, a pang echoing through him about all of the shitty choices he was forced to make on behalf of someone else.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” you added, “I’m just moving into a different house. I’ll be in the same city. It’s not a big deal.”
His eyes bore into yours, “if it’s not such a big deal, you can do it.”
“Thanks, but I wasn’t really asking permission-“
“But you have to tell him.”
-
Later that night you open the door to Azriel’s room, dashing in and softly shutting the door behind you before placing your body in front of it.
The room was one you’ve spent countless hours in - Azriel considered you to be the only member of the Inner Circle he trusted enough to share his private space with, an inclusion that you valued greatly.
The walls were a beautiful shade of blue, deep and rich like the ocean singing to you from the shore. The walls held a few paintings from Feyre - one depicting Ramiel, one a portrait of some of his shadows, and one a sweet moment when the two of you had fallen asleep together on a couch, Azriel’s body draped across yours, wings covering the couch and the tips touching the floor.
She had given it to him privately, because she knew Cassian would surely have some choice words about it. You hadn’t been there when she gifted it to him, but you do remember how his eyes couldn’t meet yours the first time you saw it as he called it ‘cute’.
Azriel was sitting at his desk, papers strewn across it, hair mused from running his fingers through it.
He looked up, his face scrunching at the sight of you in his room. His eyes narrow, trying to discern if this was real or not. He scans your body, looking for some indication that this wasn’t real, that his mind was still playing tricks on him.
“We need to talk,” looking up to the ceiling, you started pacing around his room, trying to block out his smell, the heat from his gaze, as you tried to remember the speech you had prepared about how it would be good for the both of you to have space.
Azriel’s demeanor shifts, “yes, we do.”
You start wringing your hands, needing something to do with them. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish, desperate to find the words to start your rambling.
“I assaulted you.”
Okay, not the best first words. Azriel’s face doesn’t change as he watches you try again.
“I’m leaving.”
Still not great words.
“I took advantage of you, when we were in that room. I assaulted you and Rhys should throw a noose over my neck for it.”
Azriel tries to interrupt, but you stop him.
“There was no way you could have actually consented to that. You were out of your mind, and I took advantage of you. You were needy and I used you for my own gratification and it’s killing me. And I know it’s killing you. You can’t even look at me, for cauldron’s sake!”
Your feet move of their own accord, pacing in front of the door, unable to look at the male before you.
“You- I-,” you don’t want to tell him, not like this, but you need to air everything out before letting him go completely. You turn to face him, his expression unreadable.
“I’m in love with you. I have been for cauldron knows how long. And I- I thought I was helping you, but now you can’t even look at me and when you walked out I realized that I fucked up and let my feelings cloud my judgement-“
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.”
Azriel’s words put an end to your rambling, making his way over to you.
“What are you talking about? I forced your hand - you felt obligated to help me-“
It was at this point you both began speaking over each other, trying to get the other to see how awful you were in your decisions.
“-but I practically pinned you down-“
“-held you down on my-“
“-you were out of your mind-“
“-drunk on lust-“
Neither of you stop until a shadow comes whirling by, pushing both of you forward unsteadily. Hands reach out to catch each other, yours falling onto his chest.
“But I- I told Rhys I was moving out for a while, to give you space.”
“I don’t want space.”
You shake your head, not allowing yourself to believe his words, “but you’ve been avoiding me for weeks now, I thought.. I thought you hated me.”
Azriel’s hand tentatively moved up to your cheek, cupping your jaw, “I thought you find me repulsive for forcing you to… help me.”
“No,” you say, hands resting on his hips, “I don’t find you repulsive at all. Do you think I’m a monster?”
He snorts, “no, no.”
The two of you keep your gazes locked, the room charged with emotion. Even his shadows were still, allowing the circulation of the room to move them as they waited to hear what you two said next.
Azriel’s voice is quiet, his words coming out in a soft exhale, “I haven’t been able to get the sight of you out of my head.”
Your palms pressed against his chest, the ends of your fingers curling to grasp onto him. His fingers tangle in the ends of your hair, lightly grasping it.
“The past week, I could close my eyes and swear I could still feel you on top of me.”
You stop breathing at his words.
“You’ve been following me around like a ghost. I’ve hardly slept. All I can think of is how good I felt wrapped up in you - how it felt to be inside of you."
When you think of this night years later, you can never exactly figure out who moved forward first. Maybe it doesn’t really matter whose lips were the ones to make first contact.
The kisses you shared under Azriel’s drugged haze were rushed, desperate, laced with years of yearning underneath a haze of burning need.
Now it was all pressure, putting everything into the kiss you haven’t said. The words would come later. As would the many, many nights of staying up, words of adoration flowing between you two.
Tonight was about rewriting history, redoing previous touches.
For weeks all you could think of was him, his moans floating through your mind like a song. You woke to the sound, and it lulled you to sleep each night. Hearing those moans again made you ache with need, as if your one night together had already conditioned you.
You open your eyes to watch his darken with need, pupils blown wide. You grabbed the front of Azriel’s shirt, pulling him as close to you as possible.
You started pulling his shirt out from his trousers, reaching your hands around the back to undo the snaps underneath his wings. You start pushing the fabric up, and Azriel breaks away from you just enough to pull the shirt over his head.
His lips are immediately back on yours, a new urgency to his touch as his hands move to your ass. His hands squeeze the flesh as you bite his bottom lip.
His fingers tap twice, urging you to jump up, hooking your legs around his waist, your dress pooling at your hips.
He presses you into the wall, his mouth moving down your jaw, down your neck, down your chest. You move your fingers up to his hair, tugging lightly as he sucks on the top of your breasts, leaving a litter of hickeys across what he can see.
His hands reach down, mouth still on you, and he lifts the hem of your dress, pulling your head from the wall so he can pull your dress off.
He gazes at you, eyes heavy with lust as they roam your body, your underwear the only thing covering you. He smirks as he pushes his hips back into yours, causing you to moan at the contact.
“Beautiful,” he mumbles, and you’re not sure if it was something he meant to say out loud or not, but your cheeks blaze with heat just the same.
His lips reattached to yours, and you slid your hands back down his torso just enough for him to slam his hips into you, causing your eyes to roll back with need.
You start digging into his skin lightly with your nails, and he goes back to kissing your neck. Your fingers find the strings to his pants, which you try to start undoing, but he keeps thrusting against you, distracting you.
“Stop,” you say, breathy, “let me- undo- your pants.” He accented every other word with a thrust, leaving you breathless and soaked.
“I’m gonna- cum from this- if you don’t stop.”
His eyes light up, one of his hands holding you against the wall, the other sliding up your waist to your breast.
“Is that a challenge?”
“N-no.”
His fingers circle your nipple, pinching lightly causing you to moan at the sensation, hips thrusting with more intensity against Azriel.
“See, I think it’d be pretty hot if you came in your underwear.”
“But I- want to be- on your cock.”
“Oh but you are, baby.”
Your hands gripped his hips as you grind harder and faster onto him, feeling yourself tighten, getting closer, and closer, and closer.
“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.”
His words sent you toppling over the edge, loud moans escaping you as he held you up. Your face fell into his shoulder, and he rubbed your back.
He kissed the top of your head, moving his hands under your thighs to carry you to the bed. He collapsed onto it with you on top of him, slowly coming down from your high.
You breathe heavily on his chest, kissing his neck and down his chest as your hands move down the planes of his stomach. Fingers move through his happy trail, stopping to lightly tug on the waistband of his pants.
He lifts his hips so you can shimmy his pants off of him, letting his cock spring free. He groaned at the freedom, his cock hard and throbbing already. He flipped the two of you, his weight now on top of you, his hand sliding up the underside of your thigh leaving goosebumps in its wake.
“You are so beautiful,” he tells you.
"Az," you pant.
His fingers tighten their grip on your hip, "yes, baby?"
"Please touch me."
"So polite," he says, his fingers circling your clit. You moan at the contact, hiding your face in his neck. He quickly nips your ear, eliciting a gasp from you. “Eyes on me, baby. I want to see you.”
You bite his neck in retaliation, and he laughed as you pulled your face from his neck, his fingers tilting your chin to look at him. His thumb gently caressed your jaw as his other hand continued stroking your clit.
His fingers were divine, but as his eyes stared into yours, nothing existed outside of the two of you. Your hand moved down his chest, scraping your nails against his toned torso. The action caused his fingers to stutter slightly, but as he felt your hand move closer to his hips, he started moving faster.
He shuddered as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb stroking from the base to his tip. His movements falter at the distraction and his eyes darkened even further.
“Fuck,” he moaned, biting his lip.
You grin, his distraction spurring you on. You lifted your hips up, sliding your underwear off before settling back down onto the bed. His weight is nestled back on top of you, the two of you staring at each other. Your hand moves some of his hair out of his face, then moved gently to hold his face.
“We can’t go back after this.”
“I don’t want to go back.”
With his words, he slides his cock into you, feeling just as good as you remembered.
“I can’t go back.”
His words come out clipped as he thrusts into you slowly, stretching you so deliciously. You moan at his movements, causing him to go faster. His face is inches from yours, his warm breath hitting your face.
Shadows enveloped around the two of you, making a cocoon of sorts. To keep the world out or the words in, you’re not sure. All you know is this moment with Azriel.
“I can’t go back to not knowing what it’s like to have you.”
His hips thrusted inside of you, and you wrapped your legs around him. The bed moved with his thrusts, and some deep part of you wonders how loud you’re being.
You can’t find it in yourself to care.
“How can I go back to keeping my feelings to myself?”
You grip his shoulder, your nails digging into skin, and you’re sure you’ve sliced through skin, but he doesn’t register the pain at all.
“How can I go back to not knowing how good your pussy felt around me?”
You moan and he leant down to capture the sound in a kiss. The sounds in the room were obscene - the moans flowing from both of you, the headboard hitting the wall absurdly hard, the wet squelching. Neither of you cared.
You kept kissing him, hands on his shoulders trying to pull him closer and closer towards you. One of his hands moved down to rub at your clit, and that extra contact was all you needed to send you over, the pressure releasing from your belly as you came around him.
You could feel how close he was, his thrusts becoming faster and more erratic.
“I love you, Az.”
You’re not sure if you said them because you felt it or because you thought it would make him finish, but your words sent him over, his hot cum spurting inside of you. You were seeing stars, tangible thought outside of Azriel’s name impossible in the wake of your second orgasm.
Azriel collapsed on top of you, his cock still inside of you. His wings lay stretched out on the bed over you two, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you tucked in beneath him.
You wiggle your hands free to cradle his face before your hands move to the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there. After a moment he pulls his head up enough to look at you.
“Too tired for a bath?”
You smile at him, shaking your head slightly. At the movement, the house begins drawing a bath in the other room. He pushes himself off the bed before lifting you in his arms, kissing you softly on the forehead.
“Are you still moving out?”
You sound pensive as he carries you to the bath, “I could be persuaded to stay…”
Tagging everyone who asked for part two: @sirenpearldust , @thatacotargirl , @justrepostandlove , @yearninglustfully, @heartless-tate , @nocasdatsgay , @anainkandpaper , @acourtofbatboydreams , @goldenmagnolias , @je-suis-prest-rachel , @cauldronboilmetakemetovelaris, @lolasjournal , @kalulakunundrum , @daardyrnitta , @starseedsamurai , @nahimgoodmom , @persephonesalvatore, @hannzoaks , @rinalouu , @bookdragon1, @username199945 , @charlotteintumbleland , @kscyberwrld , @blacktreacle22
Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher , @lees-chaotic-brain , @topaz125, @chessebookgirl, @fides25, @lady-of-tearshed , @ashbatz , @fxckmiup , @lilah-asteria, @justvibbinghere, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @mybestfriendmademe, @heartless-tate, @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry, @olive-main, @azrielsmate3 , @pit-and-the-pen
Azriel taglist: @brieflyclassymortal @thisiskaylin
Thanks for reading 💕
#acotar fanfiction#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel#azriel fanfic#acotar writing#azriel x y/n#azriel smut
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Kylian + stealing Achraf’s food
#got my hands on hq version!#<3 thank you adrienne#also look at this its so funny#ky noticing the noodles on his plate#and then stealing it#and then stealing the potatoes (?) or whatever that is#plsasjdjasda#and he even gives achraf a look beforehand#meanwhile achraf just tryna EAT#these two will be the death of me#kylian mbappe#achraf hakimi#kykimi#psg#paris saint germain#footballandshit#anchyxsblog#had to tag my fave kykimi fans :')#mine*#gifs*
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ignoring realistic necessities like food, care, space, and medical attention, what video game enemy would you want to have as a pet ?
if i had to choose. it'd be one of these three.
#ask#anon#i just really like creature designs with sharp teeth and simple shapes i think.#thats kinda why i designed Budd the way i did. simple shape with sharp.... mouth things. and one brushstroke for the eyes.#and overall shaped like a potato. or sausage. whatever.#im not sure (off the top of my head) what other enemy i'd pick for a pet#theres a lot of enemy designs i love. like clefts from paper mario. but those are like. people.#clanker from banjo is also a good design but. not an enemy. cant be a pet.#not because of like his size but because i think itd be fucked up to have him as a pet. put that dude in the ocean#if you had him as a pet. simply you'd be sent up into the air by my wicked blow and buddy you wouldnt be coming back down#banjo saw clanker and thought ''man i should really kill that witch for real actually''#like its one thing to steal his sister. thats whatever. thats small peas.#putting a big fucking awesome dude in a space and chaining him to an anvil. that witch has to be put under a rock#also let's also kill L.O.G. for what he did to clanker in nuts&bolts#like it was fucked up what Grunty had him live through. but what L.O.G. did. lets kill him#now keeping a plush of clanker? thats okay :) a plush of clanker would fucking rule#blahaj but made of metal and flesh. awesone#sorry. i like clanker a lot as a dude. hes cool. not a pet though. or else.#anyway sorry i dont have more options to grab from.#its like if prof oak gave you an option between three bulbasuars. guess im picking bulbasohar. im not backspacing.#anyway thank you for the ask anon :) ik its hard for me to pick between chain chomp chain chomp and chain chomp#but you understand#whatever
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Eddie led a weird life.
This was something he welcomed, given half the things people thought were “weird” was just his fashion sense or preference for table top games.
Small potatoes to the larger things in life, really.
Of course, this was before he found out there was an evil version of Hawkins underneath him.
Now Eddie did things that would previously sent his old self into a fucking coma.
His friendship with Steve Harrington for example.
Dude saved his life and bridal-style carried him out of literal hell.
It’d have been rude not to be friendly with the guy after that, even if they weren’t both members of a very exclusive and bloody club, with trauma and secrets that really only a select few people would ever understand.
Sleeping over at Harrington’s half the week also made perfect sense, and Eddie will argue that to his very grave.
It turns out nightmares suck, and waking up screaming all the time sucks even more.
Something everyone involved in this entire escapade (and all the ones prior) knew.
Because more bodies means more eyes to look out for you, and feeling safe means you might actually sleep for an hour, they all got used to showing up at each other's houses at odd hours of the night.
Pulled one another out of nightmares and got comfortable with the fact that they slept better, together.
Steve’s house in particular is typically void of both adults and annoying freshmen, which meant it's the most comfortable place for a lot of people to crash together.
(Sometimes the annoying freshmen do show up and maybe Eddie is also a little weirdly overprotective of the whole Party now, and alright fine, he enjoys all their company, even Erica's--but who's keeping track?
He isn’t.
He’s busy arguing all this is perfectly normal.)
Sleeping in Steve’s bed is where things get a little tricky.
See, when it was more than just Robin and Eddie crashing at Casa De Harrington, they all sleep in the living room.
Steve drags out some fancy blow up mattress (an air mattress what the fuck) and changes the couches around and long story short his fucking living room is more comfortable than Eddie’s own bed has ever been.
But when it's just Eddie and Robin, they retire to Steve’s stupid huge bed, so large the damn thing takes up most of his equally massive room.
(“This isn’t weird right?” He’d asked Robin once, hanging his head over the edge of the bed while Steve did--whatever it was he was doing to his hair in the bathroom.
Robin, who was busy rifling through Steve’s drawers for a shirt to steal, stopped and looked at him, one eyebrow raised.
“Not unless you make it weird, Munson.” She’d told him, and well, that was all the permission he needed.
They slept together in tight groups, where it was easiest to defend each other in case of Upside Down fucking monster attack.
Case closed.)
Sleeping in Steve Harrington’s bed, without the buffer that was Robin Buckley, is where the lies started.
Because it was weird.
It was incredibly weird, and did guys even do this solo?
Eddie hadn’t. If one of Hellfire or the band stayed over, it was a strictly floor/bed/couch situation unless there were more than three of them, and that was within Eddie’s small ass trailer.
Sure they piled up if they had to, but it wasn't like it was with Steve. All tangled limbs and being right up in each others space, no pillow or blanket or anything as a buffer.
Hell, Eddie had woken up getting spooned or doing the spooning more than once, and no one said shit.
How Steve made it sound so genuinely normal was beyond him.
Not that Eddie argued about it.
Not the first time of the fifth or the twenty-fifth, and not even after Robin pointed out he was rooming with Harrington more than she was.
Because he just slept better, next to Steve.
(Steve apparently, felt the same.
Or must have given it kept happening.)
It wasn’t like Steve didn’t crash at Eddie’s trailer either--his parents had come right home upon hearing about the earthquake, and had been a bit more present after running into the joint forces of Jim Hopper and Joyce Byers in the hospital lobby.
Add in Wayne’s own Disapproving Stare (TM) and the town being up each other’s ass to try and keep it together, and suddenly Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were hanging out in Hawkins that much more.
(Steve seemed to think it was more to save face rather than because they actually gave a shit, which Eddie felt was obvious but he wasn’t gonna say it.
“They’re trying I think. They just--they’ve never encountered anything like this.” He’d said, a little frown line pinching his eyebrows together.
“Stevie, no one has faced anything like what we have. Your parents, on the other hand, are only dealing with what they think is the aftermath of an earthquake and plenty of people have seen those.”
Steve had sighed. Stared a little helplessly, like he knew he was making excuses but couldn’t help himself.
“I know, Eds. I know.”)
Them being home more meant Steve was at Eddie’s more--on grounds that Robin’s parents were fine with him hanging out but drew some kind of weird not--very--hippy line at him sleeping over.
Which was fine.
Great even, the Eddie and Steve had never slept better! Sucks to be Robin, who had to call up Nancy Wheeler if she wanted to share.
All this was, was trauma buddies being guy pals who were very comfortable with each other due to said fucking trauma.
Steve used to help Eddie take a piss for fucks sake, and according to literally everyone else involved in the Vecna related mess, this was their fourth go round with supernatural shit.
Chances of it all happening a fifth time seemed kinda high, even if the gate was supposedly closed and the psychotic meat puppet madman six feet underground.
Sharing was caring, and caring was not letting your new buddy you saved fight off monsters alone if they popped back up.
Plus he and Steve spent a huge amount of time together, almost as much time as Steve did with Robin.They were all in each other’s back pockets to the point that Eddie’s band was used to it, with Gareth even starting to make secret lover jokes about it all.
(The dick.)
They were just really good friends dealing with the shit life had dealt them. That was it, that was the whole ass story.
Eddie’s growing gay crisis aside.
So no. It wasn't all the time with Harrington that sent Eddie over the edge. Nor was it the bed sharing, rapidly dropping boundaries, or even the fact that Steve knew where Eddie kept his condoms (An accident Eddie wouldn't ever live down, holy shit.)
No, what sent him into an absolute, hair tearin' meltdown, was the day Steve woke up, rolled over, kissed Eddie right on the lips and then went to make breakfast.
No good morning, no how ya doin.
Steve just left Eddie there, clutching onto the sheets for dear life and mildly terrified he’d just hallucinated the entire encounter.
(Hell, maybe the whole thing was hallucinated.
Maybe he died in the Upside Down and this was some sort of sick version of the afterlife.
Eddie pinched himself, and when that wasn’t enough, bit his own knuckle. Both hurt, which was unfortunate, because death seemed preferable to dealing with life right then.)
Unfortunately for him, Steve did not run back into the room with a myriad of excuses, which meant Eddie had to experience the horrifying ordeal of getting out of bed, putting his clothes on and going into the trailer’s kitchen--because Steve hadn’t even had the decency to wreck Eddie’s life at his own house.
‘What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck--’
Heart galloping, Eddie put on his big boy pants--metaphorically and physically--before stepping out into the kitchen and confront his friend.
Who was cooking shirtless, without a care in the world.
It still took him a full thirty seconds to get his mouth to work.
“Hey Stevie? Do you want to tell me what that was about?”
"Hmm?” Steve replied. His eyes were hooded, hair mussed in a way Eddie knew only a few select people had ever seen it.
He looked half asleep, and proved it a second later when he reached twice for the one of the two mugs on the counter and missed entirely.
Eddie swung in, grabbing one and offering it out for Steve to pour coffee into, before swapping it out for the other mug once Steve was done.
Stayed in Steve’s space even as the former jock fussed with adding in milk and sugar and whatever else he was feeling, working up the courage to say something.
Anything.
“Uh, the--just now?” Eddie squeaked. He coughed to clear his voice, trying desperately to act normal.
Look normal.
Like he hadn't just been kissed by the guy he had absolute worst crush on.
Steve, bless him, didn’t tease him. Just shoved one of the mugs into Eddie’s hands and kept the other for himself.
Took a nice, slow sip, adam's apple bobbing and Eddie quickly averted his gaze, staring firmly into his coffee.
“What happened?” Steve asked a second later, sounding a touch more clear, and not at all like he was experiencing deep regret, or dodging the question, or even aware of what had happened.
Eddie had two seconds to realize that hell, maybe Steve really didn’t know, before his mouth once betrayed him.
“When you kissed me?” And motherfucker, for once, Eddie wished he would think before he fucking spoke.
(Wayne had always told him he'd come to regret it. He just hadn't thought it'd be like this!)
“Oh.” Steve said, very anticlimatically. “I didn’t realize I did that, sorry.”
Eddie's entire body twitched.
One long shudder, like it was rejecting the very words coming out of Steve's mouth.
“You didn’t,” He tried, voice dry and cracking. He realized his hands were shaking and promptly put his mug down before he dropped it. “You just--what, did that on instinct?”
“...Kinda, yeah.” Steve said and why the hell did he sound entirely unphased!?
Was this some kind of weird jock thing? Did the basketball team all wake up together and kiss each other on the mouth?! Did they think it was some sort of straight--guy haha joke, or fucking--Eddie didn’t even know what, because Eddie was too busy spiraling.
“Steve I’m gay.” He blurted out, mouth now firmly ahead of his brain.
He instantly wanted to take it back.
Grab the words with his hands, and cram it into his mouth.
Maybe Steve was only cool with it if he thought Eddie was straight.
Hell, maybe he fucking did it while sleep walking or something and Eddie was the one being weird about it, or he--fuck, really did imagine it and, and--!
“I know.” Steve told him, interrupting Eddie’s catastrophizing entirely.
“You know?” Eddie stared at him, feeling like the world had fallen out from underneath his feet. “How do you know!?”
He actually had a pretty good idea of how Steve knew, considering they were both friends with Robin, but while Robin was comfortably out to both of them, Eddie was not.
Had not in fact, even confirmed that he was queer to Robin herself, though he’d hinted at it plenty and shared more than one inside joke.
Didn’t think Robin had outed him or anything, but more that, well…
Steve was smarter than the kids made him sound, that’s for damn sure.
“Honestly dude? You’re not subtle.” Steve told him and at least he finally sounded serious.
Like this was a much needed conversation and not some weird tangent Eddie was on.
“The handkerchief, that triangle pin that you and Robin both have, the fact that you once jumped in my pool to get away from Dustin asking about you're dating life."
He rolled one hand in an etc. all gesture, before adding; “Also there was that time you and Robin got absolutely smashed on my dad’s whiskey and argued about who the hottest Rocky Horror actor was.”
Eddie’s mouth sprang open to defend himself, but absolutely nothing came out.
When had they even watched Rocky Horror together!?
“You kept insisting the guy who played Brad was hotter than the one who played Rocky, remember? I thought Robin was going to strangle you because she like, adores Susan Sarandon.” Steve continued, like they were having one of their playful little spats and not--not discussing Steve kissing him!
“You guys asked me to tie-break,” He added slowly, like he was trying to jog Eddie’s memory. “and I told you guys I thought both were hot.”
Which--oh.
Oh.
“Okay so you’re…?”
Not going to kill me is what Eddie intended to say, but Steve took it as another question entirely, and answered with a nod and a hum.
Which--okay.
Steve Harrington was bisexual, and also already thought he’d come out to Eddie.
He could roll with that.
That was not the problem, at all.
The problem was; “That doesn’t explain the kiss though?!”
Steve finally put his coffee down, huffing out exasperatedly. “I wasn’t lying when I said I didn’t realize I did it, man. We share a bed a lot and I guess I wasn’t--I must have--”
And now, finally, Steve was getting embarrassed. A red flush spread across his cheeks and down his neck, vivid even on his tan skin.
He ran a hand through his hair, and Eddie knew purely from the sheer amount of time they spent together that it was a self-soothing action.
“I guess I’m sorry?”
It came out less as a question and more as an accusation-- which Steve himself seemed to hear because he immediately corrected it with a far less sassy and much more sincere; “No I am--I’m sorry.”
None of which answered why Steve had kissed him.
“You didn’t think I was Nance, did you?” Eddie asked, because apparently he just couldn't stop while he was ahead.
Maybe he should have died. It'd be better for both of them, considering he was doing about as good as kicking Steve while he was down.
Steve, the guy who had saved Eddie's life and was now one of his best friends and here Eddie was, dragging this out of him like a moron.
“No.” Steve said immediately. Reflexively, almost, firm and sure. “I am very aware you’re not Nancy.”
‘Let it go Eddie. Don’t make it weird Eddie. Just laugh it off and say okay--’
“Then who did you think it was? I mean you said it was instincts and like, I'm not stupid. I know I can be confused for Nance in the low light, it's happened before but--"
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
“I didn’t think. I knew it was you." Steve interrupted. "I knew I was kissing you, Eddie."
Oh god, just kill him now.
Hell he'd even take a Vecna death! With all the gross gore and the shitty villain monologue!
"This morning I was tired, and I was sleepy, and I apparently skipped the part in my head were I asked you out and we were dating.” Steve deadpanned at him.
Eddie gaped, mind shattered and rapidly reforming.
It was like the universe was recreating itself, only this time all the stars had aligned and his wish had come true and some Disney director had taken control of his life--
“But I get it if I’m not your type." Steve was saying, because Steve was perfect.
And Kind.
And wanted to date Eddie.
"I’m sorry if I made things uncomf-mmphhh!”
‘Mmmph’ because Eddie had flung himself at Steve, face first, the second "I asked you out and we were dating" had finished processing.
(Which was alarming fast, considering he'd been struggling all morning.)
‘D--ff--ing?”
Steve laughed in his mouth as Eddie tried to talk while kissing, pulling away slightly and holding his chest back with a hand when Eddie tried to chase him anyway.
“Yes, dating. As in, would you, Eddie Munson, like to go on a date with me, Steve Harrington?”
“Yes.” Eddie’s mouth said.
At least this time it and his brain were on the same wavelength.
“Yes I very much would.” He put some weight into his lean, making it harder for Steve to hold him back. “I think you can tell, by the way I'm trying to kiss you. Which you are not doing."
He pouted, and refused to be embarrassed about his behavior.
Steve laughed, and he might have said something like “God you changed up fast” except he had given in and let Eddie close again, and his words were now being swallowed down.
Eddie's life was weird alright, and now it was weird even by his own standards, but he wouldn't have it any other way.
#this is VERY unedited#steddie#ANOTHER STEDDIE#IM ON A ROLL#this is a warmup that got out of hand#oneshot#ANOTHER ONESHOT#damn Im killin it#*knocks frantically on wood*#now if only I could kill ANY OF THE FOUR FICS IM WORKING ON#steven harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#look it was early#Steve had a nice dream#forgot he wasnt dating eddie IRL it happens lol#“Im gay” “I know” trope lol#Eddie Munsons Very Weird Life#0o0 fanfics#stranger things#gareth emerson
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SWEET NOTHINGS ✷
Summary: You and Jungkook host thanksgiving dinner at your guys’ house, but Jungkook is head over heels in love with you.
pairing: husband!jungkook x wife!reader
warnings: pure fluff, jungkook is whipped, reader and jungkook are corny as hell, and a lot of curse words. A lot of kissing… a little bit of spanish. crying.
"Baby, what are you wearing? Are we going to match?" Your husband yells from upstairs, making you chuckle lightly. "I left your outfit hanging in the bathroom," you yell back while bending over, turning on the light of the oven where the turkey Jungkook added almost four hours ago stares back at you.
"Do I take the turkey out now, babe?" You yell for your husband upstairs to listen. "I don’t know; let me call my mom," he says. You jump, a small shriek leaving your lips as you put your hand over your heart and close your eyes.
"Fuck, you scared the shit outta me," a small chuckle slips past your mouth as Jungkook laughs with his head thrown back and dimples on full display.
"I’m so sorry, baby. I thought you heard me coming downstairs." His mouth adorned with a grin while slowly pulling you to him with his hands on your waist.
"Hi," you say as he kisses your lips.
"Hi, baby," he greets back, putting a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. "You look so beautiful," Jungkook gives you one more kiss before making you do a little spin for him.
Your brown long-sleeve off-shoulder mini dress matches his brown crewneck. His black jeans match your black stockings and black long boots you ended up stealing from your sister last time she visited. "You look sexy, so eatable I’m afraid." You look up at him with a big smile on your face before tiptoeing to give him a quick kiss before making your way back to the mashed potatoes you said you would do.
One thing about Jungkook is that he could stay mesmerized by your actions and words even if whatever you were doing was something so normal just like right now. The way your curled hair falls in front of your face, but with your hands occupied, you try to blow on it before trying to use your elbow to push it away, causing Jungkook to let out a chuckle, making his way to help you.
"I thought that was the reason you have a bow on, baby." Jungkook pushes both your long curtain bangs back to its place, securing it with the bow. "I’m not even going to ask how you were able to do that so fast," you throw a glare at Jungkook, making him burst into another laugh.
"Baby, I have to fix Ji-woo’s bows all the time." Jungkook laughs softly in the crook of your neck from behind, his hands wrapped around your waist.
Ji-woo being yours’ and Jungkook’s only goddaughter, and the only child in both of your families. You and Jungkook always brought up the topic of kids for it to always be shut down after seeing kids throw tantrums in tv shows or when going grocery shopping, which only ends with us looking at each other before shivering at the thought that one day that could be our future child.
The thought of having children it’s not completely shut down; you and Jungkook just feel like you guys will like to wait just a bit more before having a kid. Ji-woo and Bam were enough for you both.
You both sway to the song playing from the living room TV, coming from your ‘j🖤’ playlist.
"Did you ask your mom about the turkey?" You ask finally finishing smashing the potatoes, pushing the bowl to the center of the white counter where other dishes you made yesterday are gathered.
"Hm, texted her, and she said she was on her way," he murmurs from the crown of your head before finally letting go of you. "I have some to give you be right back," Jungkook makes his way to the garage door where both of your guys' cars are. As you wipe down the countertops and table, the door opens, making you look up, finding Jungkook holding the biggest flower bouquet you have ever seen.
A gasp leaves your mouth as you stare at the beautiful bright red roses. "Oh my god, baby, what?" Your lips pout as he kisses them and hands you the bouquet. "Fuck, this is heavy," you hold the flowers with both hands, the bouquet covering your entire face, making Jungkook chuckle. "Baby, I can’t even hug you to say thank you," you whine, feeling your eyes slightly water. You had always been so sensitive when it came to gestures Jungkook has done for you. That one time he took it upon himself to learn Spanish to be able to ask your parents in their native language for your hand in marriage, or the one time he took you to Paris on your one-year anniversary because you told him you always wished of going but never was able to due to your parents' financial issues.
"Baby, don’t cry," Jungkook quickly takes the flowers from your grip and puts them on the counter before cupping your face and blowing on your face, making you burst out laughing. Jungkook smiles while kissing your face.
"I just love you so much," you whisper all while he finishes kissing your closed eyes. "I love you so much more," Jungkook replies back before pulling you into a hug; you immediately melt into his warmth.
"I’m so seriously so in love with you," you say against his chest while he kisses the top of your head soothing you.
"And I'm in love with you," Jungkook says muffled against your hair; you stay there for a minute just feeling each other’s warmth and comfort while "Sweet Nothings" by Taylor Swift plays in the background.
"We’re so fucking corny, I swear," you joke, making both of you crack up until both your stomachs hurt.
"You had to ruin the moment huh?" He smirks at you before leaning down to leave a big fat kiss on your lips.
"I actually have one more thing, and I need you to close your eyes," Jungkook bites on his lip, his dimples showing. "Oh my god, are you serious? You just gave me around a hundred flowers, and there’s more?" Your mouth hangs open, earning another small laugh from Jungkook.
"Okay, no, for real though, close your eyes; I’ll be right back." Jungkook disappears again through the garage door. Not knowing what to expect, you close your eyes.
Funny how the butterflies and cartwheels your tummy still does even after all these years has you feeling so happy and thankful for the person you get to spend your whole life with.
The garage door opens, which makes you giddy like a teenage girl waiting for her crush to tell them they like them.
"Okay, open, baby." You open your eyes, your mouth drops open. "You’re fucking kidding, Jungkook."
You stare at the small white fluffy kitty with grey spots, that is laying comfortably in Jungkook’s arms. Your hands make their way to your mouth to conceal the small scream you want to let out. You had been begging Jungkook to let you get a cat for almost three months now.
Jungkook’s cheeks hurt from how hard he is smiling, looking down at you and how you softly caress it.
"What’s its name?" You look up at Jungkook, who is already looking at you with galaxies in his eyes. "You choose, baby, it’s yours." Jungkook places the small kitten into your arms. “Oh my fuck, it’s mine,” you squeal as the kitten looks up at you, making you melt even more.
“No mames” (you gotta be shitting me), you say in your native language, making Jungkook smile wider as he sees you struggle to find a name.
“It’s a boy, if that helps.” Jungkook leans against the counter, watching your every move, his heart swelling. “And if we named it ‘Bubbles’?” Your head snaps to Jungkook’s, waiting for his reaction to the name.
“I love that,” he scrunches his nose before nodding up and down. “Oh my god, I’m a mother,” you pick up Bubbles into the air, softly spinning around.
“Excuse you! You've been a mother, what about Bam!” Jungkook dramatically puts his hand on his heart, acting out like he just took a hit to the chest. “Stop! I love Bammy!” You defend yourself.
You make your way to your husband, kissing his lips over and over again, causing him to smile into your mouth. “Thank you so much, baby.” You thank him for the twelfth time before the doorbell to the entrance door rings. “Coming!” Jungkook yells, hoping whoever is outside heard.
…
As both of your families gather at the dining table, where we had to pull some chairs from outside so all eleven of us can eat around the table.
“Okay, so who’s going to start with what they are thankful for?” your sister says as her husband pokes her side, “I say you go first since you wanna share so bad,” your brother-in-law tells her, making everyone laugh.
Your sister scoffs before raising her wine glass to the air, then giving us a look to do the same, causing Jungkook’s mom to let out a small snort. “I’m thankful for all of you guys; you seriously make my days better by just opening the family group chat,” she jokes. “And I’m super thankful for everything I have accomplished this year, cheers!”
“Cheers!” Everyone clinks their glasses in the air, beside Ji-woo, who has her chubby fingers in her mouth, giggling along with whatever we’re saying.
The table goes around saying what they’re thankful for before stopping at Jungkook, his hand on your thigh squeezes before he starts.
“Okay, your turn, my love,” Jungkook’s mom says to Jungkook, who smiles at his mom. “Corny trigger warning, please!” Jung-hyun, Jungkook’s brother, jokes, which gets him a swat from his wife. “What the-“ Jung-hyun rubs the back of his head, staring agape at his wife. The table bursts into a fit of laughter.
“Okay, well, I wanted to start with thanking everybody for coming,” Jungkook starts off, making everyone say a small ‘you’re welcome’. “I’m super thankful for my family; I truly don’t know how I could’ve possibly turned out without you guys,” he continues. “I’m grateful for y/n’s family, my second family; thank you for welcoming me into your life, and god suegra, thank you for birthing y/n,” Jungkook rambles off, causing the biggest laugh to come out of everyone.
“And I’m so grateful for my wife,” his eyes find their way to yours, making you melt into your seat like putty; a bunch of collective ‘oohs’ come out of everyone’s mouth.
“I truly love you with everything in me, and I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for making me the happiest man ever since I met you. You’re literally the best thing that has ever been mine.” Jungkook finishes with a huge smile on his face. Your lip quivers, and your hands make their way to your eyes again, hoping the tears you’re holding in don’t come pouring. Everyone around the table claps and is in awe of you both.
“What’s with you making me cry today?” your hands flap in front of your face, like if that could help the tears blurring your vision.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Jungkook wipes the tears that fall down your eyes. “I love you so much I can’t-“ Jungkook shushes you with a small kiss and softly puts your loose hair strands behind your ear.
“Okay, enough lovey-dovey shit. I’m trying to eat!” Jung-hyun says, making everyone laugh as everyone starts digging into the food they put on their plates not so long ago.
Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth before his fingers move to the gold ‘J’ necklace he got you years ago. Jungkook smiles to himself as his thumb moves across the letter. You pull him from his sweater until his ear is at the same level as your mouth before whispering.
“I love you, now eat.” Jungkook chuckles under his breath at your words before whispering back. “Yes, ma’am.” The hugest smile stays on everyone’s face the whole night.
A/n: hi omg this is my first ever fanfic I have posted, sorry if there’s some errors hope you enjoyed.🤍 (all of this is just fictional)
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#established relationship#married au#fluff#jjk#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fluff#bts jungkook#bts fanfic
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“ Boyfriend serie ” ; Mingyu as your bf
pairing: seventeen mingyu x fem!reader genre: fluff, bf thoughts warning(s): use of pet name
Silly goofy cutie puppy boyfriend
Cook for you whenever he have time. Sometimes he is even pleading you to cook with him or just letting him cook for you. (feed you very well)
Call you every time
He just want to hear your voice you understand? :( he just miss his beautiful and incredible girlfriend )
He looove when you go to the gym with him. Sometimes you just go to look at him doing his exercises, but he still love doing sports with you.
You literally are his sport partner
As I said, he just love being with you. Doing whatever you want make him happy. As long as he's sharing a sweet moment with you
Makes you sit on his lap so he can hug you from behind while still being able to talk to the guys
Your sleepy partner. Whenever you want to take a nap he'll be sleeping with you.
He is soooo funny like omg
He loves taking you on night walk with him. During those nights, you are both walking, holding hands and talking about nothing.
Always buy/bring more food with him when he know you are coming so he can feed you.
Did the ribbon trend where you tie his bicep with a ribbon and making him flex it for your pleasure. His ego was boosted × 1000 when you told him that he had big arms
He love love love your perfumes. I feel like he would just love holding you close to him and hiding his face in the crook of your neck so he can be smelling you and hugging you too (ykwm?)
clingy boyfriend!!
he sometimes gets so giggly after kissing you... It always makes him go back in for more kisses. You always can feel his smile on your lips.
He'd so so soft :((
you guys have a lot of inside jokes!
When you fight (not that often tbh) he would shut you up by picking you up and putting you like a potato bag on his shoulder.
Know how to make you laugh
Sometime he is a little childish around you but you learned to handle that by time
You always steal his clothes nd wear since they're full of his scent and they feel like home to you, especially when both of you are away from each other for a long time.
Calls you "pretty", "baby" and "darling"
"baby! Did you had the time to eat today?"
Always worried about your health tbh
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Hi everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing. All the likes I get on my others post makes me so happy :( I'm very happy to be back on Tumblr! Tell me if you notice any Mistakes or inconsistencies. Which member do you want next for the svt bf serie? Tell me!
#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#svt fluff#svt reactions#svt fanfic#seventeen#svt mingyu#mingyu x reader#seventeen mingyu#mingyu seventeen#mingyu#mingyu svt#kim mingyu#nana tour#wonuumelody
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𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝖘𝖎𝖑𝖐
◈ 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔣𝔴 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫'𝔰
. toxic relationship themes: controlling behavior, possessiveness, mammon being mammon.
◈ If there was one thing in your relationship with Mammon that you hadn't quite gotten used to yet, it would be how cold he is. Sure, he isn't horridly so. But he's chilly enough that it can surprise you when he touches you when you aren't expecting it. Mostly when he isn't wearing his gloves, the smooth leather working as a buffer between the subtle frost of his palms and your skin. The first time you had felt his bare flesh against your own you had to will yourself not to jerk and move out from underneath his grip from instinct alone. He gets a kick out of it. Seeing how you squirm from the gentle chill. He'll often sneak up behind you, pulling a pair of his gloves off to slip his bare hands underneath your shirt randomly throughout the day and night, reveling in the way that you gasp aloud at their contact. He enjoys it even more when you turn around to scold him. He'll blink at you cluelessly while you glare up at him with insults on your tongue. He loves to play dumb, even when the smile on his face is just a bit too sharp, too big to be truly apologetic or perplexed.
◈ Due to his chilly body temperature; his body's inability to produce its own heat, he will absolutely use you to steal yours. Any amount of warmth that your body generates, from a lot to a little, it doesn't matter, he will latch onto you like a leech to soak it into his skin. You've practically become a portable heater for the King of Greed at this point, with him toting you around like you're a sack full of feathers, regardless of your height or weight, he will scoop you up with a pair of his arms and secure you to his body. Or he'll have you perched up on his shoulder like some kind of parrot. If you happen to be latched onto him at any point of the day, held within the cradle of his arms or draped along him, he will have you hand feed him food. Whatever he's craving, really. Anything from a bag of potato chips to cupcakes. The healthiest thing he's ever had you feed him was grapes, but you were pretty sure he just did that because you were out in public, and he wanted to "look regal."
◈ But his desire to hold you also stems from a place of possession as well. It's a silent yet bold way to communicate that you're his without having to say a single word. And his possessive tendencies definitely know no bounds. He absolutely loves it when you wear his colors or anything that could be linked to his image or brand. Anything from diamond and money motifs, shades of green or gold, or if you're bold with it and outright wear his merch and clothing that sports his name or sigil. It strokes his ego like nothing else. Especially if you wear it at your own accord and he doesn't have to convince you to, he'll be so smug about it; practically gloating with that wide smile stretched out across his face and his ego having inflated about ten times bigger than it already is. Like it needs to get any bigger.
◈ He makes chokers out of his web - collars really and keeps them snuggly secured around your neck at all times. It takes a while for the silk threads to wear down and weaken (typically a few weeks), and as soon as one does it's swiftly being replaced by another, more sturdier string of webbing. But you can't deny that you have a soft spot for the little DIY necklaces. You feel a little sentimental, balmy warmth flutter in your chest every time you catch sight of them in the mirror. And it's an added plus that they're gorgeous in their delicate, silvery glint; reflecting traces of light in a soft green and purple glow with a sort of iridescent shimmer.
If he's feeling particularly clingy, he may also weave bracelets for both your wrists and ankles for you to wear. He gets upset whenever you wear something may cover them up. Anything that's has long sleeves or a shirt with a high neckline that may keep the choker concealed. The first time you had worn a top that covered up your throat and forgot to slip the webbed necklace out from underneath the fabric he had taken a personal offence to it. Plucking at the fabric of your shirt with his face twisted up in a scowl, the burning chartreuse of his eyes narrowing at the top like its existence was a crime. "What the fuck is this?" He had sneered, eyebrow raising with a curious sort of disdain while he snagged the front of your shirt with the point of his claw; the only thing that kept it from ripping into the material of your top was the glove covering the lethal edge. "You trying to hide our relationship? Does it embarrass you?" An absolute drama queen, really.
◈ A billionaire he is but a sugar daddy he is not (at least not in the typical sense). Mammon clings to every bit of money he finds, hundred-dollar bills, fives and ones and pennies. He does not care. He's taking it and he won't spend it. Not even on himself. That's the thing with greed, is no matter how much you have, it's never enough. He acts like if he were to spend even a single cent that it would tip him into a financial ruin that he'd never recover from. He cherishes every single ounce of cash that he gets to a concerning degree, but you knew that long before you even started dating him. Regardless, it still was a little disturbing when you walked in on him talking to the bags full of money he had collected after one of his concerts. He was clutching the filled burlap sacks to his chest, breathing in the scent of the bills like they were laced with some sort of drug while he mumbled praises and drooled over them. Even worse was when he caught sight of you watching him and his eyes had turned into slits, zeroing in on you with an animal sort of instinct like you were some kind of threat. "Get the hell out of here!" He snarled, reaching for the bags of cash and the scattered bills that had managed to spill from his fervent hold. "Trying to steal my fucking money! Trying to touch it with your dirty, greedy hands! I dare ya to even fuckin' try it!" You had been quick to back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind you with a confused look pinching your face. You're like, ninety-nine percent sure that he may have gotten off to his stockpile of cash before.
He also counts it obsessively and he remember every single amount that he had. Down the cent. If so much as a penny goes missing, he absolutely loses his mind.
◈ You had learned a long time ago not to ask him for money. Case and point when you had asked him for a five-dollar bill, all because you had forgotten your wallet before you left the house and wanted a fountain drink. An otherwise harmless request, but then he had accused you of being a 'gold-digger' while you were standing in front of the soda machine. That little comment had resulted in an argument in the middle of the gas station while the cashier and customers watched in fascination.
But even with his stingy ways, that's not to say that he doesn't spoil you. But it's done in his own way. If he gifts you something, you know for a fact that he didn't pay for it. Everything that he gets, he obtains by abusing his status as a Sin or by name dropping. Reservations at the most exclusive restaurants and clubs, 'buying' clothes from the most praised shops and designers, trips to the best resorts, they're all achieved simply from his name alone. He doesn't pay a single dime. And if some tries to reject him because he refuses to pay the booking fee for a reservation, or if they claim that he 'stole' from a store - let's be honest, he totally did- they're going to find themselves on the top of the Sin's shitlist. No one gets away with refusing the King of Greed and escapes with their social image or life still intact. He's not above ruining other demons to get what he wants. His shame is nonexistent, so if someone tells him 'no' then their body may be found lying amongst the toxic garbage and ruble in one of the many landfills of the Greed Ring.
But he does greatly care about how he's perceived by the masses, and considering that you're in a relationship with him, your image must also be presentable at all times. He can't run the risk of you damaging his image. So you learned a long time ago to abuse the usage of his name in order to get what you want. Eventually you didn't even have to mention Mammon. Everyone and the Seven Rings of Hell were quick to catch onto your relationship with the Sin, and by proxy, they learned who you are. If you want something, all you have to do is tell them your name, and what you want is as good yours. It doesn't matter if it's a pair of shoes, a car, or a house. There's only a handful of people that would say no to the Embodiment of Greed, and by extension, you. So yes, you absolutely exploit the privileges of being Mammon's lover, so what?
◈ He expects you to be at all of his shows. It doesn't matter if the events are back-to-back and they all have the same set and routine, you're supposed to be there. Front row. Every. Single. Night. No excuses. And you get extra points if you're wearing his merch. Not going to lie, he's tried to get you to pay for an admission fee, even though he had asked you - invited you, to be at his show. You're the only demon in the history of Hell who will ever get into these events for free. Because you have always been adamant on telling him no. Even when he practically threw a tantrum the first time, skulking around the house, groaning and sighing and mumbling to himself like you were the most unagreeable person on the planet. And the term "mumbling" is used loosely. It could hardly be addressed that way when he was talking to himself in a way that made it more than apparent that he wanted you to hear. Calling you "ungrateful" and "money hungry" and "cheap." The complete bastard.
After he (quickly) figured out that there was no way in Hell that you were going to spend your hard-earned money on his shows, and once you had officially become exclusive (which didn't take long considering his possessive nature) he had moved you from the front row seats and onto one of the overhanging platforms, constructed from his webbing and stationed at every concert. Always safely seated above the raging, downright feral fans as they all clamor against the edge of the stage to get closer to Mammon while he gloats and preens underneath all of the attention. But even with the majority of his focus on performing and giving the crowd some half-assed speech - a large sum of it never failing to be some means to promote whatever new product he's trying to sell - he always wants you to be in his line of sight at all times. He'll lose his composure if you aren't, struggling to keep himself together on stage while his eyes scan the shifting sea of bodies for you, balling a hand up into a fist while he forces himself to save face as not to alarm his fans to his frazzled, irritated internal state.
◈ This is where more of his webbing comes into play (this is a headcanon that's been mentioned by a few other writers, and I'm inclined to agree that he'd do it). You know those parents who put their kids on a leash? Yeah, he does that with you. But instead of a leash, he has a thread attached to some part of your person to keep track of you at his Clown Pageants or other shows. It's something usually saved for when the choker around your neck and the bracelets around your wrists aren't enough. This is for scenarios when he needs to find you. When there's a potential of you becoming lost. He also likes the power of being able to pull you back over to him if he feels like you're taking too long on returning back to his side or if he feels that you've wondered too far from him. It annoys you to no end, especially considering that last time you had allowed him to attach his web to you and he had grown impatient with you quickly. You had been in the midst of ordering a funnel cake from the built-in concession stand, and apparently, you had taken just a minute too long because before you could even get your hands on the food, you were being tugged by the waist and dragged through the hallway and the crowd until you were returned back to your place on his web. It was humiliating and stupid, but you had been able to form a simple way to communicate with each other through tugging at the thread. Like one pull indicated that you were leaving for something to eat, two was a bathroom break, and three was a silent way of saying "hold on, give me a minute." He'd learned to be a little bit more patient with the addition. But the best that you'd gotten him to reciprocate is with an insistent, set of tugs on your thread that easily let you know that he's impatient and teetering on the edge of his self-restraint while he waits for you to come back. He's getting better though. Sort of.
◈ It's already been stated, Mammon is awfully possessive over you. Most likely something to do with being the incarnation of Greed, but Mammon doesn't share. The very idea of it will have his mood declining; electricity sparking around his body, cracking and snapping across the atmosphere in flashes of burning neon. He'll get scathing and mocking with anyone who he feels is a threat to your relationship, regardless of gender. If he gets the impression that there's even the possibility of them moving your attention from him and onto them, then they're already on the fast track to his blacklist. At best he may just insult and belittle them. That's the absolute best-case scenario. Mammon's made plenty of bodies disappear in his lifetime and he has absolutely no problems with adding another one to that list.
◈ He's very touchy. He's always in contact with you in some way, at all times, which circles back to the webbing and how he's keen on holding you against his body. It translates to when he's speaking to you as well. Such as nudging your chin with his fingertips to direct you attention onto him; cupping your face with a pair of his hands; pulling you towards him by your waist and arms; lifting you up to move or sit you onto chairs or places that are more convenient for him. It kind of goes hand in hand with how he uses his height to intimidate other demons. Nine times out of ten, he's one of the tallest, if not the tallest person in the room, and so his size is one of his go to means to frighten others, and crowding past their personal boundaries is just another way to force his presence over them. He doesn't do it to scare you, but it's become such an instinctual thing for him that he doesn't even second guess it. It's fully in his nature to do it. It runs along that vein of his greed; the entitlement he feels to other demon's personal space.
◈ He knows how his presence affects you. How that magnetic thrum that always seems to be pulsing around him like a soft electrical current, prickling at your skin always sends a shiver down your spine. He's aware of how much you like his scent, too. Those warm notes like leather, full with that particular type of musk that wafts from dollar bills, buttery and soft like linen. But he knows that it's his voice in particular that's your favorite. That you especially love the accented lilt that cradles each and every word that comes out of his mouth. It's a particular weakness in your armor that he exploits shamelessly. He knows that all he has to do is dip his voice down into that low coo, all soft with a subtle rumble and you're as good as his. It was a vulnerability that you had tried to hide in the beginning of your relationship, but Mammon being Mammon had noticed your fondness for his voice pretty early on. Mostly because you were absolutely horrid at hiding your affection for his accent. You'd have to physically force yourself from practically melting underneath the sound of that pleasant yet scratchy cadence, pulling your focus onto literally anything else to try and keep from turning into a pile of mush. . . or bursting into laughter. The way that he breaks into a loud string of swears and casual insults never fails to amuse you. Particularly the way that he stresses the word "fuck" so aggressively. Especially the "u" vowel until it almost sounds close to an "a" pronunciation; you have an awful soft spot for it.
◈ He uses his voice and his eyes to get out of everything. He can be extremely expressive, and if he's done something to anger or irritate you, he will try and use his big eyes to weasel his way back into your good graces. Believe it or not, he's very good at pulling the wounded puppy dog look when he wants to, but you're proud to say that you have gotten better at resisting the adorably pathetic faces he's able to make. Much to his chagrin. He absolutely hates it when you give him the silent treatment, and you try to use it is a kind of last resort. You'd much rather try to have a mature conversation with Mammon and sort out whatever is causing a rift or disagreement between the both of you. But sometimes when it comes to dating someone as egotistical as him, juvenile methods are the only tactic that prove to get through to him. He practically goes through the five stages of grief whenever you ignore him.
The first being denial: He'll scoff when he realizes that you aren't speaking to him. Almost more amused than he is annoyed. "Are you really going quiet on me? Psshh, whatever. You'll be back to talkin' my fucking ear off in few minutes anyway. You know you can't ignore me for long."
Anger: Once it finally sinks in that you aren't going to speak to him, he become visibly agitated. His face will twist up into a combination of a pout and a sneer, and he'll start grumbling to himself, huffing swears and complaints under his breath as you go about your day like he doesn't even exist, before his rambling dips into full blown rants. It gets even worse if you chose to leave the house - especially without telling him. That might just be the ultimate insult. He'll pretend that it doesn't bother him at all. That he hardly notices your absence or the fact that you were able to just leave without so much as a backward glance in his direction. It's fine. He doesn't need you. You're the one who needs him. So, when you don't even so much as send him a text or give him a phone call while you're out and ignoring him it has his mood plummeting down into something burning and suffocating.
When you come home from being out, either after hanging out with friends or just having a quiet solo night out on the town, he's on you in an instant, crowding into your space with those bright green sparks pulsing around him in a seething magnetic flare. "I don't even have to have you here. You've been gettin' real fuckin' cocky lately, acting like I couldn't find ten other bitches just like you. I could have you replaced in the blink of an eye, and it wouldn't bother me the fucking slightest."
It's something that should send you running for the hills, or at the very least, get under your skin. But his little tantrums never do. It's just his way of trying to get a rise out of you. To make you just as angry as he is so that you'll break and shout at him; cuss him out to get back at him. But you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of doing that. You always just level him with a collected stare instead, with a challenge glinting in your eyes. A wordless, "I dare you to."
He never does.
Bargaining: This is when the exasperation settles in, though with his inflated sense of pride it usually takes him a bit to get here. But once he finally does, his first instinct is to try and bribe his way back into your good graces. Mammon is very unused to concept of actually having to work for something. His sense of entitlement is as vast as the Seven Rings combined, and the idea of having to make an effort for anything is such a foreign concept. He's so used to getting his way because of his status alone, so whenever you fail to give into his sway it always leaves him a little bit baffled. He tries to tempt you with gifts and dates, and whenever you refuse the proposals, it leaves him utterly lost and infuriated.
"C'mon. How's about we go to that restaurant ya like so much? "
"You know, that movie you wanted to see is playing tonight. I could kick everyone out the entire theater if you want. How's that sound? Just you an' me with no one to bother us."
"You seriously can't still be ignoring me. This shit's gettin old. Let's just put it behind us, yeah?"
Depression: There will become a change in his physical demeanor once the defeat settles in. Not enough to tip off anyone who doesn't know him well enough. To the untrained eye he's still his usual self. Still just as cheerful and brazen as ever, with his sarcasm and ego just as unaffected as it always is. But even then, you're always able to notice the tension in his shoulders. How the corners of his sharp grin seem just a bit too tight, like he's forcing it on. Whenever he's out of the eye of the public, the fractures in his jovial facade really crumble. Even when he's trying to keep his composure around you, stubbornly trying to pretend that your silence really hasn't affected him. He gets genuinely mopey like this, and the wounded puppy dog expression pulled at his features is actually real this time. But he'll still deny that the heavy frown on his face isn't because of you; he just doesn't feel like smiling, that's all. The irritated way that he's been snapping at everyone as of late; he just woke in a bad mood for an entirely different reason. He's not upset over you, don't flatter yourself.
Acceptance: Mammon doesn't come to a point of acceptance, per say. He'll never admit "defeat" or apologize for whatever it is that he's done wrong. You're pretty sure that Mammon would combust into a roaring billow of flames and ash before the words "I'm sorry" ever make it past his lips. And when he does apologize, it's done so subtly and in a physical manner, usually with him scooping you up and clutching you to his chest until all of those fuzzy, warm feelings build up within you and drown you from the inside out until you find yourself instinctively reciprocating. Or he'll try another route, such as making you laugh. He is a performer if nothing else, and he knows your sense of humor very well. He'll try to be subtle about it first, mumbling jokes to himself in a way that comes across as organic, like he's ranting to himself about his day while you happen to be in the same room or within the nearby vicinity; close enough to overhear him. He'll try anything, regardless of what type of humor you have. Dark humor, lighthearted jokes, puns, physical comedy, whatever you're suspectable to, he'll get you to crack eventually.
It's either that, or eventually you'll be the one to give in first. Only able to ignore Mammon for so long before you sucked into your affections and endearment and then you're the one seeking him out.
◈ He throws parties. All the time. And every single one of them honors him in some type of fashion. He had two separate celebrations for his birthday, twice in a single year. The dates were entirely made up, neither of them lining up with day that he was actually created, but no one so much as batted an eye. There are exclusive parties thrown after his Clown Pageants and concerts. The price of admission is astronomically high, which kills you inside because he doesn't even pay for these events, he has benefactors do it for him. They pay a pretty penny for these parties too, with Mammon hiring contortionists, and fire breathers, and they're always lavishly decorated. But you can't complain too much about it because your birthdays are always insane. Each year is a different theme, and the furnishings and ornaments alone would take ten lifetimes for you to be able to afford.
◈He has several different costumes that he wears for a variety of occasions. One of his most exuberant outfits has to be the one constructed from gold silk. The material is tapestried and what must be thousands of coins threaded into the fabric that chime and jingle with even the slightest movements. How he manages to move around underneath the weight of all that gold is a mystery. But your favorite costume of his has to be the one fashioned from all of the currency in the human world; various and authentic bills that are layered up on top of each other in a variety of colors. From green to purple and orange. It's as gaudy as it is beautiful, but you mostly like it because it makes him look like a rainbow piñata. He's even had similar outfits made for you, so that you'll match. They aren't as loud or opulent as his are, but that works just fine for you.
◈ His shame knows no limits. He actually had a fundraiser before, for people to donate to him so that he could become richer than he already is. He had even lamented about it in a video online, sharing with the masses that it had been an aspiration of his ever since he was young. That if each one of them donated a single dollar, that he could reach his dream. Honestly, you could hardly even blame him for it because demons had actually donated.
◈ If there's a snack that you're saving for later, you might as well as expect it to be gone. Nothing is sacred for Mammon, so if he finds your leftovers or a little treat that you've been saving for yourself in the fridge or in the kitchen cabinets, there's 99% chance it's going to be gone by the time you come back for it. You had learned this the hard way when you had walked into the kitchen one night, eager to finish up on some of your favorite candy after a long, exhausting day. When you crossed the threshold, the sight that greeted you had you freezing still. There was Mammon, standing in at the kitchen counter with a familiar bag clutched in one of his hands, cheeks swollen around a big mouthful. His vision was already locked onto you, but he didn't appear to be worried or guilty that he had been caught in the act. His green eyes swept over you, fully relaxed and unbothered before he tilted his head back to pour the remaining scraps from the bag into his mouth, swallowing it down in a single gulp.
"What?" He asked dumbly.
The only response he had gotten was you ripping off one of your shoes and hurtling it at him full force.
You now know to hide all of your meals and snacks from him. But on the flip side, he gets irritated and upset if you happen to do the same thing to him and eat his junk food. Cue an angry tirade about how you're selfish and don't care about hurting his feelings. He'll glare at you with betrayal and outrage if you eat off of his plate or steal a fry from his meal whenever you go out to eat. If looks could kill, you would have doubled over and died from the searing heat glinting in his eyes a long time ago. Does it stop you from doing it? No.
◈He's a bed hog too. When he sleeps, he spreads all six of his limps out like a starfish, covering up nearly every square inch of space with his body. In the very beginning of your relationship, when everything was still new and a little uncertain, you would curl up at the edge of the bed. And the "very beginning" means the first two days. Your patience was quick to go out of the window. You would try to shove him away from you to make room for yourself, but once Mammon fully passes out, he's virtually dead weight. And he won't budge no matter how much you try and get him to shuffle over. Now you just sleep on top of him instead. Not that you can complain about it much. With the feel of him underneath you, sturdy but soft, surrounded by the scent of him and the subtle chill of his body, it usually has you passed out in a matter of seconds. This has a tendency to backfire because whenever you wake up in the morning, he has each arm securely wrapped around your body with his hands gripped onto your clothes like you're some kind of teddy bear. It's impossible to escape from his grip when he's like this and waking him up is a feat all in its own. Fizz once suggested waking up the Sin by airhorn, claiming that it worked for him. You had seriously thought about it, but knowing your luck Mammon would probably strangle you in his sleep if you did that.
Oh, yeah, he snores and drools in his sleep too. He also talks every once in a while, as well. "Talk" is generous. He kind of rants in his sleep. You're privy to a lot of gossip and drama because of this little habit of his.
◈ He uses you as a kind of stress ball. Especially whenever he's carrying you around. You'll find him squeezing various parts of you throughout the day, such as your cheeks, your ass, your chest, regardless of their size, he'll be palming them at some point. It's mostly absentminded, like it's some kind of involuntary urge that he has, and the more stressed he is, the more he'll do it. But he does it on purpose as well. You can always tell when it is based on that mischievous glint he gets in his eyes. You can't hold it against him all that much though, you do the same thing to him plenty. He always pretends to be annoyed whenever you return the gesture by pinching at the swell of his face or groping his chest, but he leans into the attention. Melting underneath the warmth of your palms like a big house cat.
◈ He isn't the best at picking up gifts and presents. Mostly because whenever he's out with the intent to pick something up for you, such as for your birthday or a holiday or anniversary, he immediately gets sidetracked with things that he'd like to buy for himself. He usually comes home with both pairs of his arms weighed down by bags and boxes and there's a good chance that less than half of them is even meant for you. He's absolute trash when it comes to finding things that you'd actually like. He'll spend a good five minutes squinting down at a set of shoes wondering if you'll like them (even if you have a similar pair for reference) before he eventually calls it quits and just throws them in the cart anyway. If you don't like it, then you can just get them replaced or swap them out. But he does try in his own way.
◈ A lot of talk circulates around Hell in regard to the Sin's. Anything and everything are discussed. From their personal lives to the clothes they wear, who they associate with and what they had for dinner. It's all under scrutiny from the eye of the masses. So when it was discovered that the King of Green of all demons was in a relationship, it was under evaluation for weeks. No one would have ever guessed that Mammon would ever be the type to find a lover. You had been called a variety of different terms, from a social climber, a gold digger, a prostitute. They were all wondering how royalty managed to fall for someone like you. For a while it didn't bother you. You expected it honestly, but after hearing the same harsh criticisms and gossip day after day, it starts to weigh heavy. You had vented to Mammon, confessed how you worried that you weren't enough, that all of their talk and judgement was starting to crack around the edges.
He cupped your face in both of his palms, directing your attention on him with a hold that was surprisingly gentle. It grounded you, centered you enough to pull you through the restless emotions and worry spiraling around your mind. The softness in his gaze was just as shocking, rare enough to leave you speechless. "Don't pay those bastards any mind, " he assured you, sweeping his thumbs across the jut of your cheekbones as he drew you closer to him with the tug of his other arms. "I only take the best. They're a useless band of losers anyway, so they can go fuck themselves. You're better than them."
It wasn't the most eloquent reassurance you've gotten in your life, but coming from Mammon, it made your body burn with a calming, tender warmth. He was right. You didn't need them or their opinions. They didn't matter. And they never would. Not when you have him.
#helluva boss mammon x reader#mammon hb x reader#hb mammon x reader#mammon hb#mammon helluva boss#helluva boss mammon#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x y/n
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The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.3)
You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.
CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| you're here! AO3
Word count: 3349
Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig
The empire has met you with nothing but silence.
You don’t know what you were expecting – a quiet servant, sheltered just as much as your princess was, you had no idea of what to expect from a place that was supposed to destroy any ounce of drema you still had in your tired, weak body. For all you know, all the people from the empire had beast heads instead of human ones and ran around the cattle like barbarians they are. For all you know, the Empire could have flying carriages and the methods of transporting a message from one person to another immediately – and hoarding that knowledge to themselves, like the egoistic maniacs they are.
But, the empire is quiet. If anything, it is as normal as your country should be – if only you stepped outside of the castle walls even once to check if that’s true or not. If only you were independent enough to take the Princess by her hand and run away to the wind, searching for adventures. If only you weren’t covered in König’s cloak, sitting heavily on your shaking shoulders, if only your legs weren’t helpless from all the long days of traveling by horse.
— Not impressed, little princess?
The emperor is wild, the emperor is rude, and terrifying. He forced you to sit beside him, pressing you closely against his chest, and you never felt weak in your life. His strong, muscular form is keeping you pinned to him, stopping you from ever attempting to leave. After your last little stunt with jumping from his horse, he held you tighter than ever – by your hand, by your neck, sometimes simply grubbing you by your shoulders and hauling you like a sack of potatoes. He isn’t soft with you, isn't fragile at all – sometimes you wonder if he really thinks that he could treat a princess this way. Makes you think that he already blew off your cover, revealing nothing but endless possibilities of torture.
— I’m not impressed by architecture that was stolen from other countries, my lord.
— We didn’t steal anything. They agreed to join the Empire.
— Like I agreed to marry you, sir?
— Ja. Something like that.
He laughs, and you force yourself to look nowhere but forward. He is smiling, and you force yourself to not imagine how his face must look right now – you try to convince yourself that he is ugly, a freaking beast, someone who shall never be called by his name – if he was normal or somewhat handsome, he wouldn’t kidnap you, right? He would just find some other princess and ask for her hand normally.
The empire is big, you read about it in books – but the bordering city isn’t as impressive ad you thought it would be. If anything, people here look normal. If anything, the dissonance makes you want to scream.
König laughs when you frown at his words and pushes you from the horse. This is a small ritual now – constantly having you in his arms, your hands are finding his shoulders in a feeble attempt at steadying yourself. He might be a beast, but you refuse to die a slow and agonizing death from a broken hipbone – you’d much rather find a good knife and…
As a servant, your most important mission is to serve – to help Princess with whatever she may need. And if her illustrious Highness could not make it to the safety of various relatives of the royal family, the only thing you could do for he is to die – so you could proceed to serve her. It would be an honorable death. Much better than screaming in agony under the Emperor.
Alas, you were here now. The first serious stop on the way to the capital. Your personal road of shame – with your face displayed openly for everyone to see and with your broken, torn dress that was only accented by tear streaks that weren’t drying on your cheeks, you were nothing close to a wife – you were a trophy. Another conquest, another fancy name to the title, and riches that can be extracted from your country.
Your only mercy is that the Princess isn’t here to witness your shame. Unfortunately, König is.
— Why are you so nervous, little Princess? You should get used to the sight of your husband’s body.
The steam filling the room wasn’t nearly enough to cover his naked glory or your broken embarrassment. You would wish for the steam to fill the whole place, to cover every last inch of his scarred, somewhat tan skin. You can see the bronze of his sun lines the way he had so much scarring on his chest and stomach that it’s almost fully white. You find yourself wanting to trace the little scarring – you find yourself stopping and nearly hurting yourself over having such silly thoughts on the matter.
To your surprise – utter, complete shock as you could not believe what you were seeing – he was still wearing a mask. The wet sack on his face was, indeed, uncomfortable – but you couldn’t even concentrate on the sight as you were too charmed while looking at his…
The water was clear, only filled with some transparent aromatic essence that smelled like metal and some healing elixirs, but it wasn’t enough to cover what was happening down his sculpted chest, perfect waist, and large, thick legs. He is built like a tree trunk, larger than any man you knew – which only made you oh so aware that you will not survive the wedding night. There is no way anything that is close to whatever was peeking from his spread legs would fit into you. Not that you know too much about reproduction anyway.
— It’s… perverted. To see you like this.
— Ach, meine Liebe. It’s natural for husband and wife.
— We’re not married yet, Your Highness.
— Might as well be. I’m not letting you go anywhere.
Despite his antics and confident demeanor, Emperor was…nervous. A little bit, yes, anxiety creeping to his form while he was too distracted by looking at your scared face and trembling hands – he knows that you’re a princess, a being with a fragile mind and weak stature. You can think that he is ugly – that his body, maimed on the battlefield and belonging to the war, not the bedroom, resembles more of a monster than the one of a husband.
You can faint right now – he can see the trembling of your hands, the way your lips are quivering and shaking. You were crying almost the whole ride, only stopping to eat or argue with him, and while he adores your pouty face and miserable expression, it only made him understand more just how dangerously fragile you are.
All the battles he fought, and now he is scared of what his bride will think of him.
— I’d advise against looking at old soldier like this, Liebe. I might get…ideas.
He laughs, but there is underlying anxiety behind this laugh. You look at him, blink a few times, heat spreading across your cheeks. You used to bathe the princess, so various toiletries and elixirs are nothing new to your sight. Of course, König doesn’t use rose water and fragile colored salts – his bath smells like pinewood, like blood and metal, nothing you were used to.
You aren’t sure what traditions the empire has, but you never heard that the wife is supposed to bathe her husband – especially if said wife is a princess. Your hands are used to work, you can almost imagine a princess playing in her marble bath as you go around with cleaning cloth and make sure she doesn’t have to even lift a finger – but you suspect that acting like a loyal servant would only break your cover of a spoiled, treasured creature.
— Ideas? What are those, your royal…
— Call me König.
— I won’t call the name of the conqueror.
— But you’re fine with calling me Your Highness. Full of contradiction, princess.
You call him like that because it helps you to pretend that everything is fine. That princess is here with you, that you are going to bathe her for the evening, then take on her precious jewels to warm them up before they would go on her body – that you could do everything for her, whatever she needs. That your life still has a purpose other than lying and hoping for a quick death.
But, König is perfect in the bath – you can’t pry your eyes from his muscles. Not a statue worthy, exactly, because they would spend too much marble on a statue of his size – but you beg to allow yourself to trace his scars, blue veins, little tan lines that were going all the way down his…
— I won’t force you to bathe me yet.
— I appreciate your modesty. May I leave?
He laughs, turning away from you. Showing you his back – predators would use it as a sign of assigned weakness, but you are mesmerized by even more scars covering him. Just how can a man survive this many stabs in the back? Almost made you want to put a few new ones, just as a little treat.
König turns away from you and, with a swift motion of his hand, removes the wet hood from his face. You look away immediately, not wanting to look in the face of a monster – putting human features into your nightmares would break you fully. He chuckles softly, tracing his hand to yours – not allowing you to leave, no matter how much you wanted to simply ran away.
— Wash my hair first, little princess. This is empire tradition, ja?
— It’s a work for…
You bite your tongue before you can say “servants”. You tried to play the role of a spoiled brat, and not having to work felt nice – but you can only see the long, wavy red hair running from under the hood, free of containment. You want to touch the fiery locks, play with them and put some flowers inside – the urge to care for someone, to do your job as a royal dog, is rooted deeply in your body.
— A wife must serve her husband, no? Come on, put your royal hands to work.
— I believe you have servants for this.
— I do. And I want you to wash my hair.
— It’s really…
— I’d love you to wash some other things, in that case. My hair isn’t the only thing that is long.
You gulp, trying desperately not to slap him. König is crude, like an old soldier – because he is one, as you are reminded constantly. Not a fragile and attentive prince from your dreams, but a horrible monster who’d love to simply use you like a freaking…a freaking something. His wife, you’d say before, but the princess and royal consort won’t be used like a lowly servant. Nothing in your soul stirs again, washing him whole – and this is why you’re nervous. The desire to serve is going to break your cover. Break you.
God, his hair is beautiful.
Long and thick, ginger with hints of early silver – you could touch it the whole day, trace every lock, and play with loose strands. Maybe putting them in braids, just about a billion of them – he’d look perfect with touches of gold and bronze, with something to accent the beauty of his hair, something for…
God, you almost started to like him. Or, more naturally, his hair. Same thing – and terrifying at it.
You gently flush his locks with warm water, feeling the softness under your fingertips. This is a job you’re familiar with – you braid his hair with surprising ease, playing with the softness as much as your heart desires. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend that you’re with your princess, cheering her up with some silly stories and fairytales you both were reading like a holy book. If you close your eyes, you could almost pretend that the world will end when you open it.
But, the emperor – your emperor, if nothing would happen to prevent it – wants you to look at him. But, he is securing his face with a second, thinner mask that doesn’t intrude into the process of washing his hair. You don’t ever try to peek at his expression, too terrified of him actually having scales and furr – even though you can see his skin fully, and it doesn’t resemble the one of a monster.
— Don’t close your eyes, little princess.
— How could you…
— Good soldier always pays attention to his surroundings. Water is a perfect mirror, meine Dummes Mädchen.
You don’t know what he just called you – and, quite frankly, you couldn’t care less about the opinion of a person who kidnapped you, who endangered your princess and tried to force her into marrying him, an old bastard of an emperor, the worst person imaginable, the…ah, but he does have great hair. And you are just a sheltered lady in waiting, frail maiden with no prospects of romantic love – even as much as stealing a glance at the stable boys when you were of their age would make Princess incredibly jealous.
Now you have the full attention of the one whose hand in marriage was the most feared and the most desirable – and you don’t know whether you truly want to dismiss it, or to give it a…ah, no, you’re daydreaming again. Perhaps all this work on his hair made you delirious, made you think he may actually be a decent human being. To hell with him and to hell with his gorgeous, fiery hair.
Hair that you…already made into a thick braid. You were thinking too much, dwelling on the past like an old lady of the castle – and now, the nostalgia for having to braid princesses’s hair is almost unbearable. You took the aromatic oil – even more pine with a rich, expressive scent that made you wince.
Emperor laughs, a little rumble coming from his chest. He touches his hair, thick fingers going into even thicker locks. You were expecting to be killed for such frivolity – then you remember that, oh god, you are not a servant anymore. Husbands have their ways of disciplining disobedient wives, as you think from rare romantic books you were able to get from the library, and you don’t even want to imagine what those ways could be.
— You’re good with your hands. I wonder what else you could play with.
— I can play lyre and piano.
— Ach, what about flutes?
The implication makes your cheeks burn. You can’t tug his hair in fear of the punishment, so you simply huff in frustration and start dropping oil beads into his hair. It’s a surprise for such a manly and strong soldier to have scented oil in collection for his bath – if anything, you thought he would be a murderous beast who never takes a bath and prefers to wash his hair in the blood of his enemies. Alas, he smells of pinewood and clean water – you force yourself not to push his hair up to your nose, inhaling his essence. So different from the rose oils and flower extracts you were using for the Princess, but…perhaps you miss your old life too much.
König stirs nervously in the bath. He knows that having a scented oil for his hair and body isn’t something that he usually does – his manliness is coming up with little cries of frustration every time he smells the essence on his skin. It’s not something a soldier should not – maintaining his hair in empire fashion, long and wavy, is hard enough, taking too much time to prepare in the morning, and comes as a horrible challenge in battles – but he sees the way your face lit up when you took his hair into your hands and, well…god, he is getting sappy over a little princess. It might just be his downfall.
He is anxious about your opinion of him – not because he thinks you really have a choice in marrying him, but because he doesn’t want you to hate this marriage. He got quite a few concubines who loved his rank and even more enemies who hated his guts yet were still available for pleasure – but you, his dearest bride, shouldn’t hate him. Not too much, at least.
— What do you think?
— About what, Your Highness?
You speak those words so quickly, it’s a surprise for him. Is the king, your father, so strict that his beloved daughter had to always address him by his title? Do you hate König so much that you force that abyss between you and him with ease at the click of your tongue?
Your hands are good with washing his hair, your manners are excellent for someone who grew up spoiled and pampered – he thought that he’d have to spank the brattiness out of you and buy your affection with expensive gifts, but so far, you were just a sassy mouth and smart tongue.
You are…weird, for a princess. Really, really weird.
— About the essential oil. Not so soldier-like, ja?
There is nervousness in his voice. It’s absurd – he had fought countless of battles, but he is scared of what this spoiled girl can think of him. He is the ruler of the largest empire on the continent – yet he is as scared as a little boy just stepping into knighthood. You’re making him soft, and he almost wants to drown in your touches, eat from your hand and force you on your knees so he can bury his head between your legs and show you what a real treat feels like.
— I don’t think there is anything wrong with smelling good, Your Highness. Unless you appoint your fighting abilities with smelling like a wet dog.
— You like it.
— I am fine with it. As far as I’m aware, I should not touch your naked body before the wedding.
— You’re lucky I adore your pouty face too much to whip you.
— I’m glad that I’m lucky then.
He can’t take it – not with your adorable expression and shaky hands, not with how tender you were with his hair, like he was made of glass. He is the strongest fighter in his country, the one who managed to capture dozens of terrible supernatural beasts – yet he never had anyone touch him so…softly. Your fingers are delicate, your touches are gentle, and he feels almost fragile. None of the rare concubines ever came as sincerely in their desire to please him – even when mixed with hatred.
He grabs your hand and pushes you to the bath with him – the expensive nightgown he had gifted you when you came to the bordering Empire city is now heavy with water. You whimper immediately, all the sass escaping your body when he first touches your collarbones, your wrists, traces your burning face, and forces you to look at him. König almost rips his mask from his face, only stopping because he wanted to show himself at the wedding – as to not ruin the surprise.
You try to run from his hold, wet clothes clinging to your body, revealing way more than you wanted to – every curve and trace of your figure is now open for him to devour. His burning desire is evident in the water – so you don’t look in between his legs, deciding to simply turn away even as he pushes you closer to him. Like a little kid, and you feel…
This is so like the old times, with Princess and her little pranks – and you can’t help but sob into his chest, the overwhelming recognition that nothing will ever feel quite the same as before. He soothes you with a hand on your back, making you hide your face in his chest and cry to all your heart’s content – the smell of pine wood filling your nostrils, further speaking on how utterly alone you are.
You sob in his chest, allowing your emperor to touch you as he pleases. For some reason, you find comfort in this.
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I just KNOW hawks has the most sensitive wings. Like you grip them? Eyes rolling, head spinning. He would whine so cutely too and then be all blushy about it because he didn't mean to whine like that you just caught him by surprise!! I would LOVE to see a hawks fic with focus on how sensitive those chicken wings of his are 😌😭 bonus points if he subconsciously grinds against whatever he's on top of everytime you play with them. Head. Empty.
This is so canon it's not even funny
Sensative
Pairing: Hawks x reader
Warnings: Smut, feather play?? idek but enjoy
Word Count: 1.7k
The first time was an accident.
It had been a long day, nothing out of the ordinary from Keigo's career as a pro-hero, but long nonetheless.
Over the course of your relationship, you have come to find that the average workday in his employment field was not only physically draining, but mentally as well.
And there were some days when the duties were just extraordinarily taxing, fatigue weighing on even the most durable of mindsets.
So when your boyfriend trudged through the door and met you in the kitchen, slumping into your arms with a short hum to complete the certified routine he had adopted at times like this, it wasn't that much of a surprise.
What was surprising was his reaction to your touch.
The oven sounded and you slipped your arms from under his, offering a quiet laugh at his mumbled protest. You reached to push him away to get to the food in the oven, hand accidentally brushing past the base of his wings instead of that of his back as he moved as well.
Initially, you hadn't really thought much of it.
But just as the tips of your fingers were leaving, you felt it; a slight shiver trailing down his spine, one that would've been left unnoticed if you hadn't been internally complaining about the summer heat moments ago.
You paused, opening your mouth to ask if he was alright when the stove interrupted you once more, stealing your attention and capturing the unanswered inquiry.
So yes, the first time was an accident.
But the second?
Not so much.
You were both settled on his couch, some Food Network channel buzzing in the background. With his arm draped over your shoulder, Keigo's wings encircled your bodies from each side, relaxing in the absence of his work's constant demands.
In your defense, it wasn't as if you had been actively searching for trouble. In fact, you hadn't thought of the occurrence since it happened.
But as your body sunk into his, your mind decided to conjure the memory, luring your line of sight to the red fluff underneath your body.
Without thinking, you reached out and trailed your hand through the scarlet plumage. The feathers rippled in the wake of your touch like a fiery sea. You had never really contemplated how soft and delicate they felt when in their unhardened form, much less how pretty they were.
However, these facts definitely weren't captivating enough to distract you from the way Keigo stiffened next to you.
"You okay?" You asked, surprised at the sudden tenseness.
He nodded, but you knew him well enough to tell that it was distant, almost like he was trying his best to avoid acknowledging it.
Mirroring his actions, you settled back into the faux-leather, silently awaiting for a chance to test your curiosity.
Guy Fieri had come on and was raving about a fried chicken sandwich, efficiently ensnaring Keigo's attention between a potato bun.
Thanks, Guy.
Raising your hand as discreetly as possible, you quickly drew your fingers down the side of his wings, skimming the ends with the tip of your pinky.
And then you heard it.
A whine, so quiet that it would've went unheard if the television's volume was increased a few notches, but heard nonetheless.
Your gaze shot up to his face, which seemed to slowly be taking on the same shade as his feathers. "Did you just-"
"No!" He crossed his arms.
Eyes wide, you attempted to pry them open, crawling on top of his lap like a child that had just discovered some new toy. "Yes, you did!"
Regardless, he held firm, averting his line of sight from yours. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Brows furrowed, you mimicked his closed position for a few seconds before allowing a playful grin to spread over your face. "Alright, let me show you then."
You reached out, but he caught your wrist with expert speed, just centimeters away from your target. With a surprised yelp, you were tugged underneath him with your back on top of the sofa's padding.
Obviously, his quickness wasn't unknown, but the soft tint of pint coating his cheeks definitely was, at least to you. It drew a curious grin on your features.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"It's embarrassing." He mumbled, jutting out his lower lip.
Moments like this were few and far between, especially with someone possessing a naturally cocky attitude such as Keigo's. As of now, you were giving a valiant attempt to quietly observe the unfamiliar behavior.
But his sulking expression drew a bubble of amusement from your chest. Despite your best efforts, your laughter only grew at the visible tic-mark across his forehead.
"See? You're laughing!" He pawed at your face, trying to quell your snickers in a way that only made it worse.
"I'm not trying to be mean, I promise." Grabbing his hand, you laced it through yours, letting it rest there until your giggles died down. "You're just cute when you pout."
Letting out a huff, he buried his face in your neck. The warmth of his skin against yours wasn't surprising, especially with the reddish hue still coating it.
"'M not cute." He muttered, peppering kisses past your collarbone, bringing another chortle from your lips from the ticklish feeling.
"I think you're very cute, especially now that I know you're so sensitive.."
Leaning back, he offered you an impish grin that had your heart flutter. "You think I'm shy?"
You nodded, letting your hand hang from the back of his neck. "Mhm. I don't think I've ever heard you whine before."
He scoffed. "You caught me off guard. It won't happen again."
Rolling your eyes, you dropped his arm. "I'm sure."
This time, when you reached out, he didn't stop you, allowing your hand to stroke the end top ends of his wings. The gesture did more than usher a quiet shiver, you observed, as he began to roll his hips into yours.
"Shit." You breathed, recognizing the shape of his hard-on pressing against you through his sweatpants.
"You really are such a brat." He let out a low groan when you gripped the outer edges just behind his shoulder blades.
"Arguably one of my best qualities." The statement was meant to be witty, but your tone wavered at the soft tickle of his erection brushing against your clit.
"Oh, definitely." Seeming to have noticed the tiny falter as well, he allowed a mischievous grin to ink across his features. "Gives me an excuse to fuck it out of you."
Keigo slipped a hand under your shirt, continuing to grind down as he began to rub at your breasts. You squirmed underneath his touch, releasing a soft sigh when he rolled your nipple between his fingers.
"Too bad you can't take it like you dish it out, though."
Of course, he didn't mean it. He reveled in the way he made you feel, whether it be the way you would avert your gaze in embarrassment or the not-so-subtle shift in your thighs at his degrading words.
Warmth was beginning to spark in your abdomen and you slowly lips your hips to meet his, an act as unconscious as his own.
Still, the friction wasn't enough, especially with the layers of fabric that were acting as a barrier in the most perturbing way possible. You moved to touch yourself, but he quickly caught your wrist, guiding it upward to grasp the other covert of his wing.
"I got ya, Sweetheart. Just don't stop, yeah?"
You nodded, trying to keep your hold steady even as he snaked a hand under the hem of your shorts, his thumb brushing against your clit.
Two fingers pushed into you, prompting a gasp that had you involuntarily gripping his feathers. He groaned when at the action, the grind of his body into yours increasing in speed.
With one final thrust he pulled away, linking his arms under your thighs to carry you towards the bedroom.
"So dramatic over one little whine." He grumbled, peppering your neck with his mouth.
If you had half a mind left, you would've made some snarky comment about the blush still covering the tips of his cheekbones. However, your conscious thought was already thrown out the window, replaced by physical desperation.
"Doesn't matter." He placed you on the mattress, tugging down your shorts as he fiddled with his own sweatpants. "I'll just have to make sure you do it louder."
He brought his thumb back to your clit, stroking the over-sensitive nub until you were squirming under him.
Gently prying your fingers from the sheets, he led them to grip his wings once more. "Hands up, lovebird."
They were nothing short of magnificent, you realized, fully extended to reach past the ends of the bed. Each scarlet feather seemed so delicate and flawless, hung over the sharp lines of his shoulder blades like a blazing cloak of satin.
The soft squeeze that you issued to them had his eyes rolling back, an act followed by a coarse grown on his part. You weren't even sure he fully realized what he was doing as he bottomed out, drawing a pleasured cry from your throat.
He took a moment before leaning down to allow you more access to the appendages, beginning to thrust into you as your hands trailed out from the muscles of his back.
Placing a kiss against your lips, he continued to fondle your clit, synchronizing the motions he made with each stroke against his wings.
The sounds he brought from the both of you reeked of carnal hunger. They matched his eyes, the bronze of his irises practically glowing in desire.
Similarly to his feathers, you had always subconsciously admired their beauty, especially when they were hazed over, trained on you in adoration and lust.
He leaned down, breath warm against your ear that sent a shiver down your spine.
"We'll see who's the sensitive one."
#was watching triple D when while writing the first half#mha hawks#bnha hawks#hawks x reader#hawks smut#keigo takami x reader#keigo takami#bhna smut#mha smut#bnha#hawks x you#keigo x reader#keigo x you#mha#bnha imagines
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Every life SMP I remember off the top of my head as I type this, but combined and made worse in every way I can conceive. Everyone has 2-8 lives, except Doc, who has unlimited lives. The goal of the series is to defeat Doc. Doc's goal is to defeat everyone else by whatever means necessary. There are soulmates, but the soulmates change every 20 minutes. There is the Boogeyman, but another Boogey man is added for every 10 minutes there are no Boogeyman kills. Scar automatically has one life, but every Jellie cat he tames gives him one more life, but if a Jellie cat dies he loses 2 lives. Grian has to steal Mumbo's mustache within the first 3 episodes (assuming anybody makes it past the first episode) or he loses 3 lives. Joel and Jimmy cannot be more than 20 blocks away from each other at any time or they both start taking damage. Etho is 100% invisible (no particles or anything) at all times. Bdubs catches fire every time he touches a bed. Pearl and Impulse spawn in the Nether, 14,000 blocks away from each other. The dragon egg grants infinite lives to whoever holds it. Lizzie and Bigb all spawn on their own separate end islands. (I'm not a masochist so the people who spawn not in the overworld automatically get a set of wooden tools and a stack of baked potatoes, but that's it). Ren and Scott spawn on a 3x3 stone cube at build height.
etc. etc. etc.
... *gestures vaguely* ... this post, or whatever.
#it's literally one of the best things I've ever read#there is nothing i could possibly add to this#bless you anon ily /p#what on earth /pos#bad traffic idea#ask#trafficblr#good idea#and now to tag everyone in this post bc i feel insane:#docm77#gtwscar#grian#mumbo jumbo#smallishbeans#jimmy solidarity#ethoslab#bdoubleo#pearlescentmoon#impulsesv#ldshadowlady#bigbstatz#rendog#scott smajor#i hope that's it
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may i request a fic or headcanons (whatever youre up for!) where sometimes jason will take the opportunity to show off his strength to his s/o? like maybe he lifts really heavy things or when he's chopping firewood he'll rip a log in half with his bare hands 😍
Jason Voorhees x reader, his strength headcanons
Tw: soft, comfort, little mention of murder and blood
• All in all, Jason was a big, really big man and no less a big force. But he didn't want him to show it to you, on the contrary, he was always affectionate and gentle, trying to touch you as carefully as possible. He was a caring, kind partner, your personal teddy bear.
• And yet, sometimes he really wanted to show you how strong he is once again. Look, he's so big and strong, you're so small compared to him. You're not going to leave him, are you? He's so strong, he'll protect you!
• Rather, the desire to show your strength is caused by his lack of self-confidence, sometimes you have to prove to him that you really love him. In his life, Jason has only felt love from his mom, so now he clings to your love in every possible way like a touch-starved person. It's sweet, but sad at the same time. That's why he wants you to see him as a support and support.
• Jason loves carrying you in his arms, because this is not only a way to show how much he loves you, but also an opportunity to show all his strength again. Regardless of your weight or shape, it will lift you up like a real feather. You are so light and sweet in his arms, Jason is ready to pick you up in his arms in a wedding style at any opportunity.
• Yes, you often see him chopping wood. You go outside, into the clearing near your cabin, and you notice Jason. He's still wearing his mask, but he's completely naked from the waist up. His trousers hug his strong thighs, and his shirt hangs neatly on a tree branch. The man has an axe in his hands, and you see how your boyfriend's muscles contract and pulsate under his thin skin with each blow. Those big muscles, sexy bulging veins and sweat running down his sculpted body. You're literally salivating at the sight of your handsome man.
• As soon as Jason notices you, he grins slightly under the mask, blushing a little. Putting the axe down on the grass, the man takes hold of both parts of the log with his hands and with one sharp jerk tears it in half. He likes to impress you.
• You've often seen Jason carrying his victims, both living and dead, on his shoulder. And although they were mostly teenagers and young people, their sizes were sometimes quite large. Still, Jason had no trouble carrying them around like some kind of potato sacks.
• He can kill a man even with his bare hands, crushing the victim's skull, but that's not what Jason would want you to see.
• A couple of times you saw how, at the time of the chase, Jason knocked out the doors of other cabins in the forest just with his body.
• Due to the fact that Jason is not very confident in himself, he can be quite jealous. How annoying it is for him when one of his victims tries to steal you or flirts with you. He doesn't stand on ceremony with such victims. He would grab them and squeeze their flesh tightly, breaking their ribs and making them scream in agony. When the victim bleeds out, he will throw the body on the ground and come up to you, hugging you tightly.
• Often he does not notice how he shows his strength. Sometimes Jason doesn't really calculate his strength and squeezes you too tightly in his arms. That's why there are a lot of marks from his hands on your body, and these reddish marks look a little embarrassing.
#slashers x reader#slashers x you#slasher x reader#slashers#slashers fandom#jason voorhees#jason voorhees x you#jason voorhees x reader
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Hayooo potato , I saw that you have request open so I was trying to not cry when I was writing that but I want to request if you could make headcanons of the pjsk boy as your husband if you are comfortable
( sorry if I write something because English is not my main language 😔 )
Husbands
Pjsk boys x fem! reader
Summary: just the boys as husbands <3
This writing contains...... Fluff.... Aged up! characters(obvi)
A/N: oh my gosh.... OH MY GOSH MY FIRST REQ THAT ISNT FROM A MOOT AAAAA. TySM for requesting😭🙏 ive never written headcannons before so im sorry if this isnt to your liking. Ill get better at it eventually. PLEASE don't hesitate to send in more reqs! I had so much fun writing this and I'm super proud of it <3
Kamishiro Rui:
this man would be so sweet
He would definitely try to cook for you(and fail)
He has never successfully cooked something in his life(i dont think)
Itll be hard to convince him not to blow up yours and the neighbor's house but you end up doing it cuz he cant say no to you
Hes smitten
A simp
If you steal his soda candy he is stealing yours or whatever you like to eat 2x
If you put vegetables in his food, he will sneakily put them in your bowl
If you call him out for it, then he'll just admit it but continue to do it nonetheless (though id like to think he'd grow out of that once hes and adult)
This man has no shame
if he wakes up before you(which he probably does), his morning routine is to give you a sweet kiss on your forehead while you're still peacefully sleeping, and then walk off to make you and him tea(or coffee if you prefer(its probably the one thing he can make))
If you wake up before him, he will sneakily walk in the kitchen where youre preparing breakfast and snake his arms around you waist while placing his chin on your head or shoulder
That is a must
Hes very affectionate
He'll definitely tease you a little if you got spooked by his sudden touch
Now onto how he sleeps....
Sleeping with this man is a nightmare
Hes got such long limbs, if hes feeling clingy, then good luck with that
He will literally wrap his arms and legs around you and trap you in his grip
Doesn't matter how many times you whine or complain
He'll just kiss you to shut you up
And when he's up late at night, working on an invention, he loves to just plop you in his lap while you watch him work
Your super warm to him
If you end up falling asleep on his lap, he'll literally melt right then and there
also super sweet
As an absolute simp
This man will do anything for you
He can cook(probably), he can (probably) clean, he can sing, he can act, he can play the piano
Perfect husband, right?
The only downfall is that hes scared of bugs
How unmanly of him
If he wakes up before you then he will cook breakfast and most likely succeed
But ofc hes gonna succeed cuz who the heck doesn't know how to cook eggs and toast?
Now if you wake up before him, he will almost burst your eardrums with his loud "GOOD MORNING, MY DEAR CO-STAR!"
especially since he came out of nowhere yelling like that
Id like to think he is definitely a morning person
I just can't seem him being grumpy
If you get spooked by his sudden greeting, he'll laugh loudly and give you a big morning hug while kissing your cheek
Now sleeping with him is pretty comfy and normal
If he goes to bed before you then he will try to stay awake for when you go to bed just to cuddle before falling asleep
If he goes to bed after you then depending on how tired he is, he will plop down on the bed and just nuzzle his head in your neck and wrap his arms around your waist
If he's feeling clingy, then he'll just do the same but 10x tighter
If youre a good housewife, then expect lots of praise everytime you do everything!
Youre cooking? It smells so good!
You finished cleaning? I haven't spotted any dust in 48 hours! Good job!
He's definitely the kind of person to reward you with a kiss on the cheek everytime you do something good
If you put any kind of peppers, even bell peppers in his food, he will have no choice but to eat it because he doesn't want to seem so childish in front of you
Besides, you cooked it for him, so he should eat it, right?
After the meal, he will 'subtly' suggest not to put peppers in his food ever again
Aoyagi Toya:
Probably the sweetest one in this entire ff
If he could cook, he would, but unfortunately you'd probably just be eating black gunk for dinner if you let him cook
Other than that he's 10/10 husband material
He'll sing for you, dance for you, and even though it brings bad memories, just for you, he'll play the piano or violin if you ask
He'll especially do that if he knows you like either or and has had a bad day
He's happy when you're happy, and there's nothing better than to see you happy because of him
90% of the time, he wakes up first
Will definitely make himself coffee and make you whatever morning drink you like
If you have a super specific starbucks or just coffee order in general, he will not fail to bring you the exact coffee you requested
Bro was so confused when you just stared at him like "Did you just do that."
If you somehow wake up before him, then he likes to calmly walk up behind and greet you, before kissing your cheek, forehead, or hand
He is such a sweetheart when you guys go to bed
when you guys first got married, he always used to ask, "Are you comfortable? Do you have enough of the blanket? Do you want to cuddle? Am I too close?"
He eventually got used to what and what youre not comfortable with
If you ever cooked him squid, he would probably just stare at it, darting his eyes between you and the squid
He was so confused because he thought that you already new he didn't like squid
He'll probably start a conversation and try to maneuver his way into saying how he doesn't like squid
If you're obviously ignoring it(probably just to mess with him), well that's too bad
He'll just have to suck it up and eat it
If he's ever feeling a bit clingy, then he'll politely ask to cuddle, and then hold you so tight you feel like you're suffocating/hj
This
Man
Is such a menace when you're sleeping together
Bro hogs the blanket and doesn't have an ounce of shame
If you complain, he'll grudgingly toss you a quarter of the blanket while he gets the remaining three
If you whine and squirm and kick him off the bed he'll eventually comply though
Just expect him to be extra clingy in the morning as his 'payback' for kicking him off the bed
100% not a morning person
He tries to cook and the food ends up okay...
Could be better and could be worse
Now if you are just a little good at cooking/baking, he will 'subtly'(not so subtly) ask you to make pancakes or cheesecake
Once you do make it, he'll eat them with ✨delight✨, but when you ask him how it is he'll just be like
"Oh it tastes okay."
If you tease him about how his mouth absolutely waters whenever he sees you cooking, he will deny it and might have to kiss you to shut you up
But then he just ends up flustering himself
If you are the sensitive type and get offended, he'll feel bad and tell you it tastes excellent
You probably wake up before him 90% of the time
And 90% of the time that happens, he'll hold onto you with his death grip for at least 15 minutes before releasing you, just to spite you. And also because he enjoys cuddles and doesn't want you to leave
If you put carrots in his food
He will literally just stare at you
His eyes say everything
He doesn't say it, but his eyes say, "You know what you did."
He then will take his chopsticks, take the carrots and plop them into your bowl, all while maintaining eye contact
Will sing for you if you want and gets flustered when you compliment him
Thanks for reading!
#lets ✨write!✨#lets ✨request!✨#prsk#prosekai#akito shinonome#toya aoyagi#project sekai x reader#shinonome akito x reader#akito shinonome x reader#akito x reader#aoyagi toya x reader#toya aoyagi x reader#rui kamishiro x reader#kamishiro rui x reader#rui kamishiro#kamishiro rui#tenma tsukasa x reader#tenma tsukasa#tsukasa tenma#tsukasa tenma x reader#tsukasa x reader
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No, a darling that understands that the toman founders are obsessed with her and uses it to her advantage. Need someone she hates put in their place? Get baji to do some beating up. Low on affection and need cuddles, Mikey or kazu up for the job. Basically she’s like a secret mafia boss sending these boys to wheee she needs them and rewards them with food or cuddles, got them all wrapped around her finger.
ahh i see where you're coming from now anon! don't think I've written a manipulative or vindictive darling before, so enjoy!
Masterlist
To start off, I would say that the Toman founders would absolutely know and understand what you were doing. They are delinquents after all, you can’t fool them that easily - sending gang members to beat people up and run their errands while keeping themselves out of trouble is literally the name of the game.
And they liked it. They liked that you were acting like a 'proper', or rather whatever that means to delinquents, gang princess would, and the boys would be more than happy to let you do send them around to do your bidding. It didn't matter to them that you were attempting to manipulate them, or that you were being vindictive - all they could see was that you saw them for who they were and what you meant to them, and you didn't run. You were okay with it. You wanted to be with them. Be it flexing their might or (the boys' favourite) more personal matters like cuddling or tasting your new recipes, from that moment on, anything you asked for that they could give you would be yours.
The Toman boys would probably attempt to split any of the dirty work you so nicely ask of them by speciality; crime would be Kazutora obviously, anything that requires breaking and entering or stealing, this baby boy would be more than happy to do it. Pah and Baji would be pleased to handle intimidation or a good beating, while Mikey and Draken would help you to wield the full might of Toman should you need them. And Mitsuya would turn up the charm and sway and turn your poor, poor victim's closest friends against them. Anyone who dared cross you enough for you to sic your friends on would be miserable if they were lucky, and in hospital if they weren't so lucky. Yet no doubt that each would try to steal the work from the other - it's not like they liked to go out of their way to do more. But it was work from you, and they were sure the tougher the favour to fulfil, the greater and higher value the reward they would get from you.
And of course, the time and the affection that you showered on your boys would be greatest thing you could pay them with - that you still valued them the most, that they were your only and best friends. No doubt there will be a huge turn of infighting among the six about what they deserve for their enormously important role in the favour you asked for them, no matter what it was. Could have been a simple request for them to pop down to the nearest supermarket to pick up a bag of potatoes and Mikey and Kazutora would insist it was like landing on the moon, with everyone else nodding along - everyone wanted cuddle time and handmade food. You'll have to step in countless times to cool heads before things get out of hand, promising enough for all six Toman founders to get them to stop making a fuss.
But note that letting you guide them towards their next target wouldn't stop them for simply beating and chasing anybody they thought was a threat. They will do anything for you, and they will make sure that there is no one to come between you and them. Your relationship with them is the most important thing, and you were their gang princess. Toman's and only Toman's. You belonged to them in every sense of the word, and no one, not Mikey, not Draken, would let you slip from their fingers, not when you were their word.
The only line you should never ever dream of cross is lying to your Toman friends, because they see it as a slippery slope to you leaving them for someone else. The moment they catch you in a lie is the moment all your privileges are revoked.
#tokyo revengers#yandere tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers x reader#yandere tokyo revengers x reader#mikey x reader#baji x reader#mitsuya x reader#kazutora x reader#kazutora#sano manjiro#keisuke baji#draken x reader#draken#tokyo rev x you#tokyorev x reader#tokyorev x you#tokyo rev#mitsuya takashi#pah x reader#pah chin#cheesus answers#yandere platonic toman
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| rayman, ramon & raymesis x reader.
| relationship hcs.
personal song of choice: in my room, by insane clown posse.
i've seen so many rayman edits to this song, it now has him written alll over it. fuuuuuuckkkkkkk. do i write smut? (probably). just take this for now.
| tw:: foul language, raymesis/j, my own hcs, self indulgence, (heavy?)angst, they're all struggling, this is not proof read.
[ a/n:: we need more rayman. i'm still new to writing fanfics(aside my horrid watpad {i forgot how to spell it} phase.) forgive my errors and i hopefully plan to write more of him. he haunts my nightmares(lovingly). i'm ill rn, and wrote most of this in a sleep deprived craze for more rayman. first time writing these characters-- forgive me. ]
(soh/game)rayman.
i feel like he'd be the type to randomly pinch you especially when he feels like he's being ignored, or when you're 'busy'.
he always does it when you least expect it. sitting on the couch, scrolling on your phone/reading a book? pinch. getting something to drink? pinch. stargazing? pinch.
loves the little reactions he gets from you. giggles over it. i bet he kicks his feet too.
definitely the type to swipe food from your plate when you're not looking, then gaslight you about it.
you're missing a potato wedge? nuh-uh. you're crazy. how dare you assume that your handsome, loving, amazing boyfriend would ever steal from you. the betrayal...(he did it.)
i like to think he enjoys hand kisses. random thought, but i dunno. i think he'd like to kiss your palms as a source of reassurance, and of course receiving the same affection back would probably give him a heart attack. in a good way of course.
or when you're a bit stressed in public and hold onto the back of his hoodie. like slightly holding onto the fabric where it's almost unnoticeable. probably the cutest thing you could ever do in his eyes. (that or giving him a lil kiss.)
silly things aside, he stuggles a lot. his failures that haunt him day in and out, he's scared to know how long it takes before he fails you too.
simple mistakes can lead to him getting stressed or overwhelmed as he doesn't leave any room for his 'failures', even with something so simple as accidentally knocking something over, breaking stuff, etc... he truly believes that you are one mistake away from leaving him.
he tries to be forgiving of all things with consideration of course, but often times it backfires. he has a naïve view that everyone can, and will change. he wants to believe that they will change for the better, even if the person chooses not to change, or to change for the worse. he blames himself when things go south because of that, he wants to give someone a second chance, but sometimes do they really deserve it? he tells himself he should know better by now, and it was all nothing but wishful thinking. very forgiving for others, but the rules don't apply to himself.
be patient with him, and reassure him whenever you get the chance. he really needs it.
his sleep schedule is the most horrendous schedule you will have ever seen. it's teetering between a full on coma, or staying awake for days on end. he loves taking naps, but sometimes he just can't-- he has work to do. remind him breaks are necessary. force him to sleep when he needs it. for his naps(comas), i don't know. cry? if there's one thing that'll wake him up is the sound of you in distress.
rayman is a sucker for pet names. he will be a puddle of goo in you're hands.
you're in another room, and he's just lounging about. the next moment you're calling for him, needing his help with something? he's right there. like right behind you.
lives for simplicity. babe, baby, sweetheart, honey, hun/hon. consider whatever you need done. he's so whipped for you.
he's also pretty good with pda. again, the pinching. public, private, it doesn't matter. that cute little pout on you're face is something he'd kill for.
personally, i prefer the earlier games personality traits as opposed to (i believe)origins. i do enjoy the childish behavior, however i do believe his immaturity does have a limit. (living for soh!rayman.)
definitely the type to crack the funniest jokes at the worst times imaginable. it's his secret talent.
that, and hitting you with a one liner when you're both faced with a terrible situation. except that one liner is just so good-- you have to at least give him credit for that.
huge soft spot for sentimental gifts. always putting them somehwere safe, and when enough time passes, he likes to go over each and every one. reminiscing about all the little things.
raymesis.
[middle child energy.]
'a hot tempered psycho who's looking to destroy rayman's reputation'. not my words-- it's the wiki's.
with canonical anger issues under his belt(?), he's a bit more brash than the other two. when realizing he may like you, he may turn against you in almost violent ways. but, he hesistates everytime. always missing by a hair.
it takes him a while before he'd able to ever consider that maybe being vulnerable is okay-- just this once.
suprisingly a tad bit cautious of 'being nicer' to you, but he's trying his best.
raymesis is a thing-a-majig with a serious identity crisis.
i like to think that the some of the 4-5 vers. of the evil clones of rayman are just him having multiple 'phases'. it's fun to think of.
on a more serious note: he often feels like he's nothing but a lesser-- a shadow of the heroic rayman. maybe he looks up to him in a way, and finds jealousy in how he can just...keep going. how he's able to be so open, and forgive other so easily despite their past transgressions. he finds it unfair: why is it so difficult for him, but so easy for rayman. he's a clone of him, sure an evil clone, but a clone nonetheless. that's where the deep, dark spiral comes in.
linking to that he struggles to be nice, vulnerable, or open with you. he's supposed to be an evil clone of some heroic figure, and yet he's falling over himself because of you. in his own way, he gets extremely upset-- it pisses him off. he tries to be mean to you, but he can't bring himself to do so. he's supposed to be a 'bad person', but hurting you makes him seem like more of a monster than a villain.
this will all take time for him to process, the best thing you can do is be patient, listen to him rant, and just try and be there for him.
you have definitely mellowed him out, just a bit. he's still an asshole to rayman/j.
they're more like bickering siblings who never get along.
do not expect 'family(?)' dinners to go well.
i feel like mr.dark and the nymphs have serious beef with eachother. wwe smack downs every 'family(?)' dinner. always bet on the nymphs.
wouldn't it be cute for the nymphs to treat raymesis like their son too? just adopting him one day without him knowing? scolding him for lighting that one house down the street on fire?
raymesis doesn't like christmas trees.
there seems to be a reoccurring joke in the descriptions that claim raymesis is 'ugly' despite the fact he's a near clone of rayman. this always leaves him in a puddle of confusion with his confidence always shot. please tell him he's pretty once in a while-- he won't accept the compliment, but he'll think about it for days.
he's not used to praise, and can't take compliments. poor buddy.
he definitely bites. a lot.
of course he's a little more careful with you, he still bites now and again. i feel like he's an agressive lover. wanting to squeeze the life out of things he finds 'cute' without ever admitting it.
he has a purple tongue. that's kinda cool. i like to think he probably has a tongue piercing too? i feel like he's the type.
definitely plenty of pent up feelings that he has a hard time expressing.
but pda? oh yeah. lives for it. his hands always has to be on you in one way or another. get's all agitated, and sulks when you pull you're hand away from his to pick something up, or to rummage through your bag. how dare you-- you owe a huge apology.
pet names; babe/baby, sweetheart, creature, mine, stupid/idiot(lovingly). he's very silly with these.
he has a hard time believing you'd ever choose him compared to the hero, rayman. with time maybe he'll learn you love him, and choose him because he's your first choice.
(superiority complex.)
he may not be the best person, but he's at least willing to learn to be better in his own way.
ramon.
can we all agree on the amount of trust issues this man has right about now? good.
after the betrayal with eden whether you've been in his life for years or not, he finds it hard to put everything out in front. it'll take him some time to rebuild trust after what eden did. and no, him needing to rebuild the trust has nothing to do with you! (i mean that in a good way.) you did nothing wrong(unless you did) in his eyes but, he used to believe eden was his everything. and with that, eden took everything. he worries that with time they'll take you too.
give him reassurance, quality time, the whole mile. remind him you're not going anywhere.
while cuddling in bed(couch, etc) probably the type to refuse to let you go to the bathroom because he doesn't want to let you go.
honestly, very romantic.
he loves fruit, and chocolate covered fruit too.
will buy you some, but steals a few pieces when you're not looking. he's sneaky like that.
also known that he likes sushi, but i feel like he probably has beef with the conveyer belt things. probably a bad experience, or he's mad at it for no reason.
i think he likes habatchi. it's very entertaining.
he's the type to tell the most outrageous stories out of the blue. he's the absolute king of 'i used to know a friend'.
probably kept up with everyone's drama as the news host. stays awake at night thinking about it sometimes.
y'know when someone tells you a joke and you don't get it at first? this is him figuring out what they meant at like 2:30 am.
another terrible sleep schedule. like absolutely horrendous.
he probably has nightmares about his time as a news host. thinking of the lies he used to spread. how much each one impacted someone elses life.
wakes up in a cold sweat. ends up focusing on you're calm breathing, and tries to match it. eventually falls asleep, not before firmly pulling you close to him. even when you wake up, you'll never escape his grasp.
on an alternative route, if you did wake up, he's extremely apologetic. tries to usher you back to sleep. now you're both awake munching on some food watching some shitty trash tv, criticizing why she choose james over percy.
he's not keen on pda. he worries for you're life. it's already a risk for you to be with him-- what if eden sees?
pet names too, but more casual with them behind closed doors. definitely married-couple-core. sweetheart, brat when he's being a pain, or play fighting. hon/hun, baby when he's literally attached to you're hip.
has frequent chronic migraine. enjoys just burying his face into you're stomache and just laying there while you're doing whatever your doing. like a cat.
enjoys the comfortable silence between you two, but small conversation is just as nice.
has guns. you broke a lamp. doesn't let you touch no more./j
he actually prefers you have a gun on your person at all times, even in the comfort of home. you'll never know what could happen when you can't protect yourself.
| the end.
[a/n: sorry it's a little short, but this is my first time writing for these three. addiction is strong, don't do rayman kids.]
#rayman#raymesis#captain laserhawk#captain laserhawk rayman#mario rabbids sparks of hope#rayman legends#rayman origins#rayman in the phantom show#cl rayman#dark rayman#x reader#rayman x reader#raymesis x reader#dark rayman x reader#ramon#captain laserhawk ramon#ramon x reader#rayman soh#rayman sparks of hope#captain laserhawk x reader
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Rumor Has It
Found this in my drafts and don't really remember writing it. I know it was prompted by a post I saw, but I can't find it . The only other thing I know is true in this AU is that Steve is not aware he isn't straight.
-
Eddie didn't trust the rumors that plagued Hawkins. He heard them just like everyone else, sometimes he'd chase down more details if it interested him, but he didn't trust them at first contact the way that most of the denizens of the town seemed to. The ones that faded away in a few days were obviously fake. The ones that lasted weeks probably had some grain of truth. But this one, now six months old, but still only whispered about, should have been counted as truth. If it lasted that long, it had to be true. Eddie still didn't trust this one.
Not when it was a rumor that was, quite literally, the stuff of his dreams.
Steve Harrington was gay.
According to rumor.
The story started sometime after he got dumped by Wheeler and got his shit rocked by Hargrove. Eddie didn't know where it came from, but he heard it said for the first time a few weeks later. Hargrove never said that it was why Harrington got beat to hell, but he gave a nasty grin if the topic came up that implied a hell of a lot about Harrington on the rebound.
And Eddie didn't trust that. He didn't trust it when Tommy H started telling tales from their freshman year. Or when some of the guy's attempted-hookups started talking.
Eddie didn't trust it because it spread fast, stuck around, had plenty of sources, but it also never got said to Harrington's face. And if there was one thing that Eddie was sure of, it was that no one in that damn town had a problem throwing out slurs if it was even possible someone was different.
According to the rumor mill, that was because Harrington's dad had a connection with the mayor and enough money to bring the police down on anyone that started something. So it remained a rumor, remained in the background, and Eddie remained unconvinced.
Until Eddie went to the mall.
Embarrassing uniforms to earn minimum wage was not evidence. Though it was eye candy.
A different facet of the rumor said that Harrington Sr made Steve get the job as a punishment for the facade of heterosexuality slipping. So, no, the ridiculous, awful, wonderful, slutty little sailor suit didn't count as evidence of the guy's sexual or romantic preferences.
The lip gloss, on the other hand...
And maybe some eyeliner and mascara, but Eddie hadn't gotten close enough to be sure that wasn't his imagination.
And even then! That wasn't proof. A straight guy could use makeup. They didn't, they flipped out at the very concept, but in theory, it was possible.
Eddie wanted to know. Nay, he needed to know. His dreams, and his junior-year-crush demanded answers. Eventually, the temptation of fruit of knowledge grew to be too much.
Slipping into line behind a trio of girls, Eddie watched as Steve deployed the charming smile that had melted the hearts of half the school. Plus Eddie's. He watched it fail to work, catastrophically, and after six months of hearing this rumor and resisting the lure of believing it, he figured: fuck it, go for broke.
If it was bullshit, he'd get to be the one who broke the news to the guy, which might finally be enough to kill that stupid crush of his when Steve flipped out at the insult of the implication.
On the other hand, if it was true....
"Hi, welcome to Scoops Ahoy!"
"Well, hi there, sailor boy," Eddie flirted.
-
This is a hot potato fic. Continue it, steal it, whatever you please.
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Your forehead thing with vash blew me away cause im so in love with this man
So here are some thoughts for u :
Imagine vash and reader having a crush on each other but not saying a word. They've been traveling together for some time now,even before the gang was formed so reader knows Vash's secrets.
Think about when vash is down after some incident,and reader puts his forehead against HIS cause it always calms them down!!!
Imagine Vash's shock and then happiness about how his crush loves that part of him that's plant as well 😭😭😭
YOU!! THIS!! AA!!!!
JUST SDNFJASJFD DSAF i couldn't get to this ask now cause of school but aaaaa this is so <333333 DRIVING ME INSANE I SWEAR wrote this instead of my policy paper asefihfhi hifiihf
anyways i kinda just wnet wild with this cause ahdbfhasdbf VASH <333
You've known Vash for some time now—two or three years give or take, and travel side by side with him for almost as long as you've known him.
He's tried to get you to leave his side multiple times. Vash feared you getting hurt or worse because of him but you won't let him. Vash is stuck with you whether he likes it or not.
With the time you've spent travelling with him you've come to realise how little you actually knew about Vash. Sure you knew his favorite type of pizza, favorite color, all that stuff—all surface level stuff. Vash tended to avoid questions about his scars, how he knew so much about lost technology and how he could basically shrug off wounds that would have the average human bedridden for days.
But over time you've come to know his secrets, the mysteries of Vash the Stampede unravelling themselves to you.
Vash wasn't human but an independent Plant and he had a brother, a twin.
"I have a brother, " there's pain and guilt in his eyes, " his name's Nai—" He stops, cutting himself off, "Millions Knives, " He corrects, fingers gripping the threadbare blanket.
The inn you two were staying at was more than a little run-down but it would do. It was better than staying out in the cold desert barrens.
Finally, he turns to you, lips pressed into a thin line, "He looks a lot like me..." he pauses, lips quirking downwards, "He's the one who's been stealing Plants."
Vash left it at that. Guilt and hesitance in his eyes as he forced a smile on his face as he waves you goodnight.
The conversation regarding his brother ends right then and there. Whatever questions you have for him dies in your throat at the glimpse of his eyes.
The topic isn't brought up again until you met the man himself.
It was brief, brutal and followed by pure devastation.
Millions Knives—Nai, as Vash called him looked so much like Vash. This man looked so much like Vash—your Vash, sweet, caring Vash who could never bring himself to harm anyone, glared at you with pure unadulterated hatred.
Horror rushes through you and you find yourself stuck in your place like a deer in headlights. A chain of knives rushes out for you, with full intent to kill but you make no move to dodge.
You would've died if it weren't for Vash managing to shove you out of the way and carry you to safety like a sack of potatoes.
You didn't even realise he'd done so until Vash puts you down, telling you to stay where you are as he plastered on a reassuring smile. It looked more like he was reassuring himself than reassuring you.
The near-death experience with Vash's body-suit-wearing evil twin doesn't fully settle in until the thick blast doors shut close behind you.
The room Vash had left you in is dark, cool and cramped. A room for cleaning supplies judging by the shadowy outline of a broom.
BANG!
You jolt, curling up against the metal door and covering your ears.
There are shouts, both from Vash and Knives.
BANG!
Another gunshot.
Then another and another and another and another.
You count eight in total.
Vash emptied out an entire cylinder.
The most you've ever heard him fire.
Shouts, screams and cries from both parties but mostly Vash.
Metal twisting and bullets ricocheting.
It's gut-wrenching to hear it all.
All you could do is bite your lip and hold back tears. Opening the door and going out there would be a death sentence for you. Knives moved with inhuman speed and agility. His weapons, those knives weren't weapons made from lost tech, they moved too fluidly for that.
There's a crash outside.
"You'd..."
BANG!!
BANG!!
"...your....ther.... for-"
The metal dome of the Plant facility creaks and twists as if something is cutting the ceiling open.
"...ese... ILTHY HUMANS!"
Another set of gunshots.
"NAI!"
The metal beams of the facility creak, twist and snap. The entire room shakes as the roof of the facility is lifted by those limb-like chains of knives.
You curl into yourself further, dust and debris falling down on you.
With terror in your veins, you will yourself to look up.
Your eyes widen and your heart drops.
Vash cries out for his brother to stop but it's too late.
The facility's roof is tossed down to where the town is and the bulbed Plant is gently lifted out and stolen away.
You shut your eyes close as the giant hunk of metal lands on the town. It shakes the ground with a mighty crash.
Then...
Silence.
Your heartbeat rings in your ears as you stand with shaky legs, blood running down from a long cut on your forearm. You force open the closet door, and you're met with an empty and destroyed Plant chamber.
There are bullet casings scattered on the ground and metal beams jutting out everywhere.
You find Vash at the centre of it all, standing shellshocked where the Plant and its bulb were once kept.
"Vash...?" You call out, a hand reaching out for him.
He doesn't answer.
You call out his name again, concern and fear lacing your voice.
"Mayfly?" Vash turns around and your heart breaks.
A lone tear slides down his cheek, his eyes hidden in the orange tint of his sunglasses.
You close the gap between you and him, pulling him into your arms.
Cupping his face, you gently lift the sunglasses to unveil his blue eyes holding back tears. He breathes out your name in a sob and your heart shatters further. "Oh, Vash..."
Another tear escapes from his eyes. Gently and lovingly you wipe it with your thumb.
"I...I..."
You know what he'll say all too well.
You meet his eyes, "You deserve to cry, Vash."
"No no, I don't..." his voice quivers, "I-This is my fau-"
"It's not your fault Vash."
"You don't understand, ____. Because of me Nai-" he chokes out a strangled sob, croaking out words of self-blame. Vash's breathing quickens and his body shakes in your hold.
You call out his name again and again but he doesn't respond, spiralling down the rabbit hole of self-blame and self-immolation.
"Vash," you whisper, pulling him down so his forehead is pressing against yours.
"Vash," you can only pray that this would work.
This was something he did to you when you were sick or upset. You figured it was a Plant thing seeing as he does something similar when he heals his sisters.
"____"
Vash utters your name, and you let out a sigh of relief.
"Vash."
He leans forward, pressing your foreheads closer. You could see the faint blue glow of the Plant markings on his eyes.
"I love you," The three words come out as easily as breathing. "I love you so much," you press a kiss, soft and chaste on his lips.
"It wasn't your fault, Vash," you repeat and the damn inside him breaks. He sobs silently, tears flowing, his gun dropping to his side with a metallic clack. "None of this was."
You hold him close for who knows how long, holding him as he sobbed and let his tears flow.
When Vash wipes away his snot and tears, it's well into the night. He separates himself from you, the light on his markings fading away. He opens his mouth, an apology ready to be released but you cut him off before he could.
Once again you press your forehead against his, standing on your tippy toes, "I love you, Vash. All of you."
I love you, all that you are and all the burdens you carry, I love you.
THIS MAN MAKES ME
I LOVE HIM SM AAAA
okay this concept with Nai tho
#trigun stampede x reader#trigun x reader#^asks#vash x reader#vash the stampede x reader#tristamp x reader#i want him to hold me gently and I want to hold him gently
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