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candied-cae · 11 months

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And Who Are We At The End Of The World? - Please, Be Gentle with My Breaks - III

Chapter 18/? - - - Read it on AO3

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Word Count: 10,480

Summary: There's a difference between being broken and having a few breaks. But a lot of these kids and been dealt a lot of blows, and not just from physical monsters of the Upside Down. There's still a lot of stuff hidden just under the surface that they haven't been able to show just yet.

TW: Depictions of PTSD - Triggering events and flashbacks

More ST Fics

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Friday morning - the morning Family Video was set to re-open its doors and begin taking business again - had finally come.

It was a sunny morning. The kind that starts with birds chirping from the trees and the smell of coffee drifting from the kitchen. Robin and Steve had made plans to be at the store early, a few hours before opening, to eat breakfast together in the back office and take care of any possible final business that could come up. It was going to be a very good day. They'd decided that much.

Robin was still asleep and a little while away from starting that very good day when a noise that was less pleasant than birdsong rattled through her window.

It had been a week since the morning after the earthquake, and the construction crews had finally made their way to the suburbs near the Buckleys to take care of refortifying, structural concerns, and general repairs. One such house that required their attention, was the neighbor's from right behind them. The one that happened to be closest to the wall of Robin's room.

She was woken up when the racket started.

There was yelling, the workers shouting across distances and making their plans. Her neighbor's house had a lot of worry. She usually wouldn't mind the yelling that much. She could ignore it until Steve arrived to whisk her away. But she had been asleep and would've liked to stay that way. And all the noise outside made it impossible to fall back asleep. So she rolled out of bed and pulled her thin, red curtains closed, trying to block out just a little bit of the early morning sun.

It was about then that the foreman of the crew grunted with displeasure and came to a decision.

“Too much mess here. The whole foundation's got cracks in it, I don't like the way these wooden support beams are splinting, these warps in the flooring don't look good, and that roof damage is only going to get worse with bad weather. Call the homeowners. They can bitch about the facts all they want, but this house is going to be next with the demo team and need a complete reconstruction before anyone moves back in.”

Robin had already finished getting ready. She was washed up and dressed, and finally, the noise softened. Maybe they were done for the day. And she probably had another hour before Steve would be rolling around. So she dove back under her covers and tucked them in around her. Closing her eyes and drifting back off to sleep for just a little bit longer before she'd be taken away from her warm, comfy bed, and would be made to face the daunting trials of customer service.

Maybe forty minutes later, Robin was in that slippery state between sleep and awareness while the heavy machinery of a demolition team rolled down the street. All at once, those titans of force began to unmake the house right behind theirs. So close to where she peacefully slept. And the house did not go down easy.

Robin was startled awake in a red-tinted room, with the impossibly loud sound of destruction erupting from right behind her. The strength of it was rumbling the bed under her body, accompanied by the shriek of over-used and under-cared-for mechanical parts.

And all of it just sent her.

It felt like Thursday night. In the Upside Down. Where the red-tinted sky opened up above her, and the ground shook under her feet so hard she almost fell over. When the groans of an old house moved around her and filled up her ears. Until it all became echoes of screams instead.

Lucas's screams.

“Erica! Call for help!”

She felt it. She felt the fear again. Like it was all occurring to her for the first time.

Max was dead. Lucas was hurt. Eddie was going to die.

Her hands started shaking. She felt the sweat stick to the back of her neck, on her forehead under her bangs. Her arms and legs almost felt numb- or maybe they felt disconnected from her? They didn't feel right. Or useable.

She was frozen. And she tried to reason with herself. Thursday night was Thursday night. It was over a week ago. It all already happened, and she's supposed to be fine. She's in her room.

But as she looked around, none of it seemed familiar. It all looked foreign. Alien. It even started to look like the room was covered in vines, and dust, and cobwebs.

And she was alone. Steve and Nancy weren't there with her. By her side. Helping her run through the terror anyway.

She was alone.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and then one of the neighbor's walls went down. Everything shook even worse. And while she was petrified just a second ago, she was then thrown into urgency. She all but pushed herself out of the bed and backed up under the frame. In the little space between the floorboards and the box spring. She just tried to crawl further and further back, closing herself into something small and hidden.

Nothing bad should be able to find her under there.

She started crying harder.

Somewhere in it, her parents started asking questions. Asking if she wanted any breakfast before she left. Trying to make sure she was still up. Wondering why she wasn't answering. But none of it reached her. She just stared straight forward, trying desperately to cover her ears and make it stop. She just needed it all to stop. But all she felt was the tremble. And all she heard were the screams.

Her dad opened her door. He and her mom poured into her room and kneeled on the floor to find her down there under her bed. They tried talking to her. To figure out what was happening. None of them understood why it was happening.

Max was dead. Lucas was hurt. Erica was in danger. Eddie was going to die. Dustin was limping. Steve was bleeding.

Nothing was okay. And Robin was alone.

Steve's car rolled to a stop in front of the Buckleys. But Robin wasn't sitting, waiting for him on the stoop. She probably just woke up late and needed another minute, or two, to finish getting ready. They were going in early anyway.

Steve wasn't in any rush.

So he just sat in the driveway. Letting the radio play through “You're Much Too Soon” by Hall and Oats. But still, as the song ended and the host announced that The Cars would be playing next, Robin wasn't outside.

Which was starting to seem unusual. He'd never waited very long for her to run out. It's not like she was someone to go to a rager and be hungover the next morning. And there was no way she had something with Vickie that went so late she couldn't wake up. At least no way she wouldn't have mentioned it to him.

He wasn't sure what her deal was, but he still didn't really want to risk getting Mrs. Buckley's stink eye by knocking on the door. A person only makes that mistake once. So he shrugged to himself and honked his horn in two short bursts. To make sure she knew he was there. Not to sound passive-aggressive, but maybe she forgot what time they planned on leaving.

And in that dark space between what was happening and the memory playing over reality, Steve's car broke through.

Robin knew that beep.

From all the times she was already packed into his car after closing, and he was taking too long to lock the door to Family Video, so she'd lean over to the driver's seat and honk at him from his own car. From every time they'd gotten talked into running one or a couple of the kids somewhere, and they were taking their sweet time, so he'd honk at them. From any time someone peeled out past a stop sign in front of them, Steve would curse, ask how much they think his car is worth, and he'd honk at them because he couldn't expect an answer.

Robin knew the sound of Steve's Beemer.

Which meant Steve was there.

That was the only thing she could grasp and hold on to. Steve was there. Somewhere out of sight, but there. Steve was there, so she wasn't alone.

“Steve? STEVE?” she called for him. Past her parents that didn't fit the picture in front of her, she yelled for her best friend to fill in.

Just when Steve was really starting to wonder what was up, he saw Robin's father open the door.

“There's something wrong with her!” he shouted, looking more scared than grown-ups usually let him see.

And Steve didn't even think he'd ever run so fast for anything. Before he could even worry about what specifically could be wrong, before he could worry about the Buckleys not being his biggest fans, before he could worry about not technically having been invited inside their house - he was through the front door and following the sound of Robin's voice down the hallway to her room. Where her mother was crouched on the floor trying to reason with where Robin must've been under her bed.

He just shucked the jacket off his arms and scooted himself under there beside her.

“Hey. Hey, Rob. I'm here. It's me.”

She looked at him. And he made sense. As much as all of it didn't make sense, Steve being there with her while she felt terrified? That made sense.

Robin's fingers released a sweater that had been lost under her bed and instead grabbed onto the short sleeve of Steve's white shirt.

“Steve. Steve, it's- i- it's shaking. Everything is…”

“I know. I know, it is.” He nodded with her,” But, hey, I’m right here with you. Okay?”

There was barely enough room for the width of their bodies under there. But even so, Steve untucked his arm from beside him and pushed it into the space over Robin. He held her tight around her shoulders, her hand still twisted in the fabric of his shirt. She was probably going to stretch it out, but Steve wasn't even a little worried about it then.

“It's so loud…” she whispered, trying to cover up one ear without letting go of Steve.

“That's okay. That's okay, because…” Steve reached over to his discarded jacket. In the pocket was his walkman and one of his mixes he was keeping on him until he made the one specifically for Vecna. He slipped the headphones over her ears with a little difficulty, due to the angle and tight quarters. But after he got it on, he'd quickly sped through the first third of the tape, because ABBA's “Lay All Your Love On Me” should've been the fifth song on it.

He pulled her tighter against him while she listened to the music and spoke right into her hair,“ I’m right here. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

She continued to cry.

Robin's parents just looked at the two in shock. They knew that they had gotten close, but they never imagined… Steve was the kid in town with a reputation for getting around. They always assumed there was something there, something he was chasing her for. They weren’t happy about it but figured - maybe just maybe - Steve Harrington got drawn into Robin’s refusal of his advances and it just made a game for him after they worked together at the mall.

But the way he was looking at her, it was love.

And not a romantic or lustful thing. It was just love in its purest form. Like they were two halves of the same person. Destined to link their arms together for the rest of their lives, despite whatever husband and wife they would get tied to down the road. It was something bigger than her parents understood.

But they were starting to.

Robin eventually stopped shaking so badly, and stopped crying so hard. Steve asked them if the construction crew could stop what they were doing. Even for just fifteen minutes. Just long enough to let Robin calm down some and get out from under the mattress and put some distance between them.

And the parents left them to each other. Somehow, they completely trusted that all Steve Harrington wanted to do was help their daughter feel better. When they told the crew that their kid was having something of a nervous breakdown, they were incredibly apologetic and immediately shut off all the equipment. Mrs. Buckley brought out some lemonade for them as a thank-you while they killed a little time.

“You doing better, Rob?” Steve asked when she looked like she was coming back to herself.

The room didn't look so scary anymore. Her mind wasn't covering her floor and walls in leathery tentacles. She couldn't hear kids screaming and crying in her ears. She knew Max was safe in the hospital, and Eddie was right next to her recovering. Lucas, Erica, Dustin, and Steve all made it out with bumps and bruises, but they were fine.

Robin pushed the headphones off of one of her ears and nodded to Steve, wiping off her face,” Yeah. Yeah.”

“Do you wanna get up?” he offered.

She thought about it. But her legs still felt like jello, and she still had an icky feeling making her hair stand up. It didn't look like the Upside Down anymore, but she was still scared it would again as soon as she made it to her feet.

“Not yet? It feels safer down here. Closed in, nothing can surprise me.”

“Okay. We’ll stay down here for a few minutes.”

Robin shook her head. She felt silly. “We’re going to be late to work,” she told him.

“Fuck work.” Steve remarked, and she laughed through a sniffle,” I’m the manager now. I say Family Video can re-open tomorrow.”

But then the worry hit her again,“ But, Steve, if I stay here all day and they start again, I-”

Steve just shrugged against her shoulder,“ We can go wherever. Wherever you want.”

And she relaxed again.

They got her up off the floor, splashed some water on her face, and got packed into the car after Robin hugged her parents. Told them she was going to be fine.

They blared music from his car and stopped back at his house first to grab snacks. She met the Antonovs while Steve stole a boombox and a handful of cassettes from his room. And then they made quick goodbyes and were off again. Steve figured a good place to go, to get away from everything, was that junkyard past the quarry.

They drove up the gravel road, around the big open water, into the break of the trees, and out through the clearing of abandoned cars and scrap.

“So, this is where Dustin took you, huh?”

She'd wondered what kind of place made for a demodog trap and makeshift fortress to hunker down in. Not enough to actually ask for a visit to a place that screamed serial killer central, but she'd wondered about it.

“Yeah. Except we came from the tracks and walked the whole way from town.” Steve told her.

Robin crinkled up her nose at the idea,“ If you're gonna bring me to the edge of the world, I'm not walking there. Only way you're getting me all the way out here is if I'm riding in style.” She leaned back in the seat, popped her feet up on the dash, and closed her eyes. Like she was trying to become the picture of luxury.

Steve just smiled softly and hummed,“ Of course, you are.”

The Beemer was parked and the two climbed out together. Robin's first instinct was to comment on the mess. The broken glass and the dented-up metal. Steve pretended it was all damage from the demodogs. She didn't know any better to push it. But they sat down in an open spot. Dug into the leftovers of Claudia's brownies while they just talked and looked out over the hill.

And then Robin brought the conversation back to something she considered to be of high importance.

“So, what's the plan with Nancy?”

Steve completely turned away from her, echoing her question like that'd make her drop it,“ What's the plan?”

And, as if she didn't even hear the annoyance in his tone, she agreed,“ Yeah. What's the plan? What sort of idea do we have on the docket?”

“Robin. Her boyfriend is sleeping on my couch right now.” Steve reminded her.

“Which is why I want to know the plan. Situation's gotten complicated.” Robin crossed her legs and popped a bit of brownie into her mouth.

But he declared,“ There is no plan.”

And she almost sounded disappointed. "Steve.”

“You guys keep trying to open that door - and maybe you could entertain the idea while Jonathan wasn't around - but it's different now.”

“You guys?” Robin pointed out,” Who else has been talking about you and Nancy?”

Steve muttered,“ Munson might've said something stupid…”

Her eyes widened,“ See! Multiple people-”

“Just the two-”

“Multiple people think there's something there! So why aren't you going for it? We got your confidence back, you're acting like the hot commodity you are again. Don't get why you're wasting time.”

He tried to redirect her,“ Why don't we focus on the Vickie front?”

She argued,“ The Vickie front is fine!”

“Oh? So what are the two of you then?” Steve pressed.

Robin got quiet before eventually saying,” I don't know.”

“That doesn't sound very fine.”

Which thankfully seemed to pull her away from Nancy Wheeler.

“How do I broach that topic then, Steve?” she asked.

“Well, you're gonna wanna get all dressed up, look real nice, lean in close, and then you're going to ask her where this thing is going.”

“And if she doesn't think 'this thing' is going where I want it to go? Then I've just outed myself and started the countdown until I become the town pariah.”

“You just gotta be covert enough it's safe, and direct enough you get a clear answer,” Steve advised. Which sounded like an impossible balance to strike.

And Robin was at least a little bit annoyed he'd even say such a thing. “Oh? Is that all?“

“That's all it takes!”

“Then…” Robin leaned over and got all in Steve's space before she put on a husky voice,“ Where do you think this Nancy thing is going?”

Steve cried out “Shut up!” and shoved her shoulder. They both fell into boisterous laughter while they lay out on the grass. Leaving behind the horrors of that morning and knowing full well that Family Video wasn't opening by 10 am as they planned.

Karen got a phone call that morning from Theresa. Robin's mother mentioned that they'd had a rough morning at their house, and asked if Karen had noticed Nancy going through anything after the earthquake. Seeming like she was reliving it at all, or stuff like night terrors? Karen truthfully told her that she hadn't seen any of that from Nancy, but what she kept to herself was that their kids didn't just face an earthquake. Karen knew they'd seen more than they needed to.

And with her soft heart, knowing that Robin got really shaken up and quickly left with Steve that morning to get away from the ruckus, Karen decided she'd pay the two of them a visit. Offer a little kindness and remind them that - even if they couldn't turn to their own parents for help - she was on their team now. Like what Nancy had said the night she found out what was going on.

So Karen baked a batch of fresh cookies in the oven. Her oldest daughter was pouring over her school work, the new and the old, and paying extra attention to her essays. Karen slid a plate on the dining room table to Nancy as they came out. Still warm and gooey, practically falling apart as Karen warned her to let them cool a minute so she didn't burn herself. And then she headed out the door. Packing herself and her Tupperware container away while she drove over to Steve's place. Where surely the two of them would have gone after Robin's fright.

The oddest thing was, as she came up to the front porch and knocked on the door, it wasn't either of them that answered. Nor was it Hopper or Joyce, or any of the kids. Instead, there was a man she'd never met before. A very attractive man, for the record, wearing a pretty skimpy pair of cut-off jeans that were halfway up his thighs and what probably used to be a tee shirt until the sleeves were snipped off to the shoulder and the bottom cropped until it almost showed skin.

Which was a little out of the usual considering Spring just started and nobody else in Hawkins would be dressing like that for weeks, if not months. Just wasn't warm enough for it yet. But there this mystery man was, looking like he was ready to host a Summer cookout and work on his poolside tan.

He pursed his lips under a crisp mustache and asked, with a strong, deep voice and accent,” Yes?”

“Uh, yes, I- uh- I’m Karen. Wheeler. Mike and Nancy’s mom.” she explained. Remembering herself after a moment and shifting the cookies onto one arm, reaching out with her other hand to shake his. Friendly, polite, and mannerly. Maybe a little more bashful than she should be.

He smiled kindly and shook it with a firm grip,” Dmitri. I am Mikhail’s father.”

“Oh, yes, I’d heard- that, um, that we had someone new coming into town.” she made the connection and thought to herself that she was being silly. Stuttering and sputtering for no reason.

“Ah, yes.” Dmitri nodded,” Once your government sends me some papers, I may move out of this boy’s home. Maybe then we will even be neighbors, yes?”

Karen smiled and agreed,” Yeah, maybe.”

It was quiet for only a moment before he wondered,“ Was there something…?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, um, I assumed Steve and Robin would be around. Wanted to drop off a snack for them.” she motioned to the container she held.

“That is very kind of you. They are out, but I can put it in the kitchen.” he offered.

She handed the sweets over with a simple “thank you,” but she didn't exactly want to run back home so quickly. And she thought it was only reasonable to try and get to know him. Being another adult on the end-of-the-world team and all.

“How- how are you and your son adjusting? To Hawkins? I'm sure it must be a big change.”

“It is fine,” he assured her. “Mikhail wishes he were in school. Also wishes he had his own room, but that will change in time. We are fine. Much better away from where we were. And I, myself, am most enjoying all the time free from work and the warm temperature.”

Dmitri remarked on it all with a smile. Pale, blue eyes shining under the midwest sun. Which must've been a stark difference compared to the snow-covered country he'd called home just days before. He really seemed happy to have completely turned his whole life around.

It wasn't like he had much of a choice. By the sound of it from Murray, Hop, and Joyce, he had to leave. There wasn't anything left for him or his son in the Soviet Union after he was imprisoned, escaped, and every person at his workplace - convicts and guards alike - was killed. He was a renegade, no matter what. So he had to pack up his kid and him, board a sketchy helicopter, and come with the people he'd become loose companions with. Chasing “hope of a better life” and “the American dream” as far as it'd take him.

It sounded terrifying for Karen to imagine putting her own family through. But here, the man stood. In the door of a teenage boy's home because it had a spare room to borrow. In a country he didn't know. Without a clue about what exactly was going to happen in the coming days, weeks, months, or years. If they made it that long.

And he smiled under the sunshine. Because he was away from work, and they had nice weather in Hawkins, Indiana. And that was enough to be happy about.

“Really?” she asked him.

“Oh, yes. Certainly. If I could spend the rest of my days like this, though in a home of my own, I would. Waking up early, making food, spending time with Mikhail and sending him off, enjoying this lovely weather… it is all I need.”

Karen had to laugh to herself. It sounded like the life of a housewife this man was wishing for. And she knew it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows. It wasn't as easy or as fulfilling as it seemed like it was when a person summed up in one clean sentence.

“Your son must be better behaved than mine.” she joked.

But Dmitri's eyebrow raised, and he leaned in closer to drop his voice,“ You think too highly of Mikhail. He is still a handful.” He sat back and mentioned,” Though, I suspect I am lucky to just have the one. You manage two.”

“Three, actually.” she corrected,” I have my youngest, Holly, too.”

“Three, then. Miss Wheeler, you are a mother of considerable strength, to do so on your own.”

“Oh, I’m not on my own. My husband, Ted, he-” Karen stumbled for a second. Not exactly sure how much she could speak to her husband's adequacy as a father. Not when it came to the softer parts of childcare. “Well, he supports us. Has a good job and brings home the bacon.”

“But you manage the home and children?” the man restated.

“Uh, yes, I guess, he mostly catches the bills, and I manage the house. And the kids. The day-to-day. If you want to look at it like that.”

“Then that makes you strong,” he argued.

Karen just averted her eyes and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “You’d be the first to think so.”

“Americans do not think their mothers are strong?”

“It’s-” She didn't get very far.

“They should. I believe you are very strong woman, Miss Karen Wheeler.” Dmitri said with full sincerity.

She couldn't help but notice he didn't correct to “Mrs.” even though she brought up her marriage. But it was nice to hear the rest of that sentence too. She was a strong woman. Seriously spoken, because it was no laughing matter.

Karen also couldn't help but ask a question she's wondered a few times by herself.

“Was it easy? To work and take care of your son on your own?”

It seemed a little rude to ask. She'd only known the man for a few minutes, and she only knew he was a widower or some kind of divorcee because it was sort of the elephant in the room. You don't think to grab the kid and not the mom if everything is going well. So he was in the parenting game on his own. And maybe sometimes Karen wondered if she could do something like that.

“Absolutely not.” he answered honestly,” My wife passed many years back. And my job it- it kept me away from home a lot. Only way we got through it was our sweet neighbor watching him when I could not. I only hope I may find way to tend to him more now.”

“You’d want to be a house-husband?” she asked, surprised.

“If I could? Absolutely. Just be a little… little trophy for the Missus to show off while I take care of the home and my boy.” he mused. “Sounds like a fine life to me.”

Karen only let out about half a laugh. “You’re a very interesting man, Dmitri.”

“What? You do not agree?”

“I can see the appeal, from the outside view. I’ve been in the housewife spot for a while now. It can be nice at times, but I definitely miss…” her eyes wandered,” the freedom.”

“I take it you have a passion then? One you put away to take care of your family?” Dmitri leaned against the door frame. His exposed bicep squished against woodgrain, though Karen tried not to notice, and he watched her carefully. Listening.

She admitted to him,“ Yeah, I did. Once upon a time. Many, many years ago.”

“Well, I hope you find it again, Miss Karen.” There it was with the “Miss” again- “Maybe your kids straighten up and give you time to chase it? Or your husband takes over some responsibilities of the house?”

“Oh, that’ll be the day.”

“You think Mr. Wheeler is not strong enough for the job?”

“He does his job.” Karen had to defend her husband. She began to count on her fingers,” Provides the roof over our heads, food on the table-”

But this Dmitri wasn't having it. With one hand, he gently closed his grip around hers. Only enough pressure to stop her, so he could say,“ If your husband leaves you so dissatisfied, then I do not believe he does his job very well.”

And Karen could feel the heat in her cheeks go hotter. He was close. And touching her hands. And serious but not afraid to laugh. And sweet in the way he talked about his kid. And attentive to her in a way no one has been since she and Ted first met.

It swelled something in her chest that scared her.

She smiled politely, and pulled her hands back,“ Sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I wasn't planning on more than a quick drop-off. But I’m happy to hear you’re both settling in. Feel free to help yourselves to the cookies as well.”

“Thank you,” he said, smoothly. No hint of dismay as she backed out. And then he added,” But it was no bother to speak with a beautiful woman on a nice day. Especially if she's brought over her own baking.”

In a moment of bravery, Karen agreed.

“It was no bother speaking to you either. I’ll see you again sometime.”

“Until then, Miss Karen. To your free time and the rise of house-husbandry.”

And Mr. Antonov stayed at the door while Karen returned to her car. He popped open the top and swiped himself a cookie in the wait. Watching as she opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. He only closed the front door of Steve's house once he'd seen the engine turn over fine. Making sure she'd have no problem getting home.

A length of care just beyond what was necessary.

It'd been a long, long time since Karen felt like anyone had extended that attention toward her.

Not that it mattered much. She was a married woman. A housewife. A stay-at-home mom. And Dmitri didn't convey much confidence that she was able to be anything else anymore. Not with three children to look out for. Even if Nancy was going to be off to college soon, Mike still had three years left. Hell- Holly was only six.

She needed to get back home.

Get back to what she knew how to do.

Time passed by in the junkyard. The sun rose up and eventually hung high in the sky overhead. Steve and Robin nearly emptied the last of Claudia's brownies. They were probably ready for some real food soon. And to get back to civilization.

But, for the moment, they just lay out on the ground next to each other.

Trying not to think about all the dirt getting into their hair and rubbing into the back of their clothes.

But Robin finally felt like herself again.

“Thank you,” she said to him. Her best friend. Who sat with her through the whole thing. Even though it snuck up on them out of nowhere, and they've never dealt with anything like it themselves.

“For?” he asked her.

She filled in,“ For being there for me.”

“Rob,” Steve rolled over onto his side to look at her,” I always will be. You know that.”

Robin nodded,“ I know. I just…” she started to explain,” didn’t realize it could get that bad. Nothing ever hit me like that after last summer. Nothing was ever similar enough to what happened that I just- I don’t know. But then I was just in my room, and I looked around, and it was just like Thursday night. Like some amalgamation of my bedroom and the Creel house, and the sounds were just- ”

Steve put his hand on hers where she'd started mindlessly ripping grass up by the roots.

“I know. But we’re fine. We’re fine.” he assured her.

“Yeah. We are.”

“So we’re feeling better now?”

“Yeah. We’re feeling better now.” Robin squeezed his hand.

“All the way better, or is there still something you need to be all the way there?”

She chuckled and smiled up at the bright blue sky. A big toothy smile. The kind her mother would've told her to reign in if they were taking family pictures. But the gentle fondness of Steve Harrington could be funny when he overdid it. Like a mother hen checking on his little chickadees over and over again.

And Steve might've been thinking about cruising by a drive-thru to finish off the comfort, but Robin had another solution in mind to settle any lingering anxiety.

“Well, if you’re offering… you know what my favorite thing ever is…”

And that was all the leading she had to do. Steve's eyes narrowed at her. But he didn't resist much.

“… Fine. Since you had a shitty morning.”

And then Steve went to his cassette player and dropped in “Robin’s Mix.” A tape he'd put together some time ago that always got the most runtime when its namesake was with him. It only took seconds for the sounds of ABBA's “Dancing Queen” to come out through the speakers. The first song on it. Robin stood, dusted herself off, and joined Steve by the hood of his Beemer where he'd propped the player. Fully set on turning the patch of seclusion into their own private dance floor.

And as the Swedish singers came in, Steve was quick to mime a microphone of his own. Directing every single word to his very best friend. Just like they had for her birthday.

“You are the dancing Queen, Young and sweet, Only seventeen! You can dance, You can jive, Having the time of your life, Ooooo~ See that girl, Watch that screen, Digging the Dancing Queen!”

They spun around each other. Robin shook out her hair, dropped her shoulders, and grooved side-to-side. Put her hands up in the air and swept them around in smooth motions. Steve was jumping around, posing, and kneeling to bask up at her. Like she was a real celebrity.

They probably put too much energy into it. If anyone serious was looking at them and compared their moves to the music at hand, they'd probably have said they didn't fit together. But to the two of them, it was how the song was meant to be danced to. It's what was right when everything came down to just Steve and Robin. No one else on the planet was invited.

And just being Steve and Robin was the easiest thing most days.

They made it all the way through the song before Robin nearly collapsed against him in giggles. He put away the phony mic, tossing it somewhere behind him to catch her before they both ended up on their asses. “One Way Or Another” began to fire up, but neither was listening too carefully.

“Thank you,” Robin said, almost out of breath.

“You already said that.” Steve pointed out.

“I know. But seriously,” she grabbed his hand and squeezed it like it was the most tangible lifeline she's ever had,” Thank you. For being my favorite person in the whole world.”

He squeezed her hand back, just as much love expressed in the simple act,” Thank you for being mine.”

Eventually, Robin stood back up on her own two feet. And they decided on that drive-thru meal to offset all the sugar and chocolate they'd had in lieu of a balanced breakfast. And interestingly enough, they also decided on going back to Family Video anyway.

They had no plans to open. More so just get out from under the sun before one of them (Robin) got sunburnt. Maybe even avoid the mosquitoes for the rest of the day. And Robin's Mix played through Steve's stereo the whole drive.

It might've only been Friday, and the nurses might've said they wanted to hold on to Eddie through Tuesday, but he was getting stir-crazy.

He hated, hated, hated just sitting there on that bed. He wasn't supposed to get up and move around too much, lest he desire to face Nurse Tracey's wrath. But it was torture. The tv was no adequate entertainment, and it killed him to know that everyone else had something to do. Some way they were healing or fixing things.

Just “getting better” wasn't a good enough assignment.

Not when there was so much at stake. Not when he was laying down right next to Max, who was stuck where he'd gotten out of. They told him it wasn't the same. But it should've been. They both died, and El brought them both back, and they both got to a hospital. But she wasn't awake.

And it pissed him off so much.

She played decoy, and so did he. And they both did their parts a little too well. But she didn’t get up after.

Wayne dropped in and ate breakfast with him on his way to work. Expressed his sorrow about Eddie's ring. Eddie's mom's ring. His fingertips drifted to his right ring finger where he'd always worn it. Not on the left, because that was the spot dedicated to his own engagement one day.

He missed it. The black gem, cut in too many facets that it caught the light too much. It didn't have the same mystique as domed, smooth onyx that seemed more like a void set in silver than a stone. He'd looked at some in pawn shops and understood the appeal.

But as much as his mom's ring didn't exactly fit the idea of what his aesthetic "should" be, it was better.

And it was gone.

He didn't cry when Wayne mentioned it. Didn't cry when Wayne said he was going to ask around, keep an eye out, and look wherever he could think to. Didn't ruin it for him by saying," I know I wore it into battle. I fucking kissed it before climbing up a twisted version of our trailer and starting my set. So if it's gone, it's gone in another dimension. And, honestly, it was probably eaten by a demobat, given how much they bit at me. So it had to be fucked up for good after sitting in dead monster stomach acid all this time."

No. Eddie just smiled at his uncle. Told him thanks for everything. Said he was going to make it up to him with a spaghetti night when they settled in a new place to call their home again. Wayne smiled and told him not to forget the garlic bread.

"You know that's the best part." he laughed.

Wayne's eyes caught on his watch, and it was time to go. He laid a hand on his boy's shoulder, kissed him on his forehead, and told him to just keep getting better. Try not to worry about anything in the meantime.

Eddie didn't promise him anything.

He finished his re-read of The Hobbit. Sniffled at the end like he always did. He looked over old notes and put together new ones for a campaign. The boys, including Josie and Erica, and even Will, all came by. It was nice.

It wasn't a very complex storyline he'd thought up, but for a one-shot, it would do. The gang of nine players packed around his bed was given the task of sneaking into a masquerade party held in a castle. The queen had received word that her daughter was in danger, but she didn't know who it was. It could've even been a member of their own royal guard. So she'd hired the band of adventurers to make sure the princess would be safe. The hard part was, she'd survived an insane labor of nine. Yup, nonuplets. So there were nine identical princesses to keep an eye on and protect while they tried to find the bad guy. And just as fate would have it, one of them died.

It was only thanks to Will's impeccable notetaking that they figured out it was not actually Daphne in the pale green dress, but Rowena who'd swapped their clothes and taken the place of her sister. A scheme worked up with an assassin she'd fallen in love with to steal the title of "eldest daughter" and have the first claim to the throne. She had been the youngest of nine, after all, she was far down the list before she'd see a crown.

But they solvest the mystery. Earned a good chunk of change from an incredibly distraught royal family who not only lost one child, but a second too. Everyone cheered for each other when they got the confession and defeated the enemies in combat. Tucked away the characters with mentions that it might be nice to dust them off and revisit the theme again another time. Make a regular habit of these Sherlock Holmes-like mysteries dipped in a little bit of fantasy flair and ass-kicking to close it all out.

It was fun. Mostly. But holding the session around his bed, where he felt like he was some weak little thing he didn't think he was… it hurt Eddie in a way he wasn't expecting. It itched against all the other feelings he was holding on to. And he didn't like it.

He was feeling cagey.

So, after they all said their goodbyes, he made a break for it.

Or, more exactly, he told Tracey he had to get out of there and begged for any way to make it happen. She was not happy. Looked at him down her hooked nose, through her thick glasses, from under crumbling mascara that rimmed her eyes. A scornful expression like she was trying to intimidate him into pulling up his covers and saying how much he actually liked it there.

But he stood his ground. And she admitted, him being a legal adult and all, that he could fill out an Against Medical Advice form - meaning he couldn't sue if he fucked himself up for leaving early - and he'd be free. So he asked her, very nicely, to fetch such a document for him. And she did. She still pestered him about calling or coming in the minute he felt bad. To watch himself for a high temperature, upset stomach, sweating or chills, bleeding, puss, or extra sensitivity around the injuries. So he swore up and down he would.

And he made it out.

His car was still at Wayne's hotel, wherever that was exactly, so Eddie just hopped the bus and made it downtown. He didn't have an exact plan, but he was not going to go home. That trailer was practically a fallout zone and wouldn't make for much of a shelter at that point. And he also didn't want to even figure out where Wayne was pitched up at. Because he was bound to go stir crazy there just the same as he had in the hospital.

He ended up on the idea to stop by a certain video store to annoy a certain pair of employees and whatever poor souls decided to shop there on the day Eddie Munson became a truly free man.

“What? Am I not pretty enough for you, Robin?” Steve asked.

His voice dripped with offense, like the discussion at hand was the cruelest thing anyone had ever said to him. They'd been making plans for Robin to ask Vickie on something more obviously a date. To help bridge that gap between girl friends and girlfriends. Robin had suggested something more like what she and Steve do anyway, getting together at someone's house when there are no parents home for a movie. But that also painted what they do as being inherently romantic and she gagged. Now, Steve was on some tirade about being a wonderful date and she should be so lucky.

He leaned against the shop counter and struggled to pop his hip out in a way that could even come close to feminine. But none of the shapes were there, and Robin could only look at him with pity. Not an admission of defeat.

“As much as I love you, Steve…” she tried to soften the blow,” You already know the key thing keeping us apart is my particular interest in…”

”Oh, right.” Steve's tone dropped, and he cupped his hands on his chest as if it was the first time the thought had occurred to him,” Boobies. I don’t have those for you.”

The comment caused Robin to crinkle her nose in a sharp cringe,” Stop calling them that!”

“Why?! It’s what they are! Not my fault you can’t handle the proper word for them!” he pushed.

“ANYWAY!” she tried to take control of the conversation,” I like them a lot, so stop pressing it. It's starting to get really sad.”

“Alright, alright, I'm hearing you, but what if I turned like this.” Steve turned around and arched his back as he shyly looked over his shoulder at Robin. Trying to pull off a more pin-up pose. Like, because she couldn't see his front, she could forget he was missing the pair features they both enjoyed so much. Like it made him girly enough at all.

Robin tried to hold back her snickers at his display. Steve closed his eyes and shook out his hair behind him for effect. He put on a pretend sultry voice before asking her,“ Does this do it for you?”

“What did I just walk in on?” Eddie froze in the open doorway.

As Steve's brain registered that the question didn't come from Robin, he snapped open his eyes and jumped out of the pose. Some kind of less-than-manly shriek flew up from his mouth, and all too quickly he practically tumbled over the countertop and crossed his arms over his chest to cover himself behind it. As if he was even topless in the first place. He wasn't, but he still felt pretty exposed.

“Can't you read the sign?!” Steve griped. A pointer finger shot out to where the “closed” side of the board was clearly facing out the door to any foot traffic on the sidewalk.

Robin was less focused on Steve's cause for concern and complaint. Instead, she joyfully exclaimed,“ Eddie! You’re out of the hospital!”

“Yup, doc declared me as less than ‘healthy as a horse’ but not likely to bleed out at any moment, so I've been released on good behavior for bedrest at my own home while the wounds, you know, do their thing and scar over.”

“If it’s bedrest, shouldn’t you be, ya know… in a bed? Resting?” Steve questioned him. Maybe a little pointedly, but hey, he was allowed to feel a little sour over Eddie walking in on his and Robin's nonsense. That stuff's supposed to be private.

“Didn’t really feel like hitching a ride across town for a quiet hotel room packed with Wayne's and I's stuff while he finishes the rest of his shift.” Eddie excused,” Plus I’d miss out on whatever the hell all this is. So I’ll ask again; what did I just walk in on?”

“Steve’s just really sad that he’s not pretty enough for me.” Robin mused teasingly. Figuring that context was innocuous enough for the present company.

“Oh, man. Tough break, Princess Harrington. My condolences.” Eddie said, putting one hand over his heart and the other on Steve's shoulder like he actually meant to console the man's wounded pride.

Steve swatted away the gesture immediately. And then he decided something new about Eddie being a member of the party.

”You two are insufferable!” he said with a pair of aggressive finger-pointing,” I don't like this duo! I don't need the two of you ganging up on me! It's unfair!”

“Wait till we get Dustin in on the action too. Three on Steve seems like fine odds.” Eddie added just to see the way it made Steve twist up his face. He even started getting a little red!

Through it all, Eddie and Robin found some kind of understanding between the two of them. An understanding of how fun it was to push all of Steve's buttons. And somehow, they still secured invites to his place for dinner. Maybe it was their wicked pair of sad eyes, maybe it was more of that “feeling way too bad for everyone” gene he's got, but Steve let them both pile into his car while he made his way home.

Eddie met their European guests, shook more hands, and made more small talk. And by the end of the meal, Steve would say he narrowly survived the onslaught of teasing. Steve ran Robin back to her place and stayed parked right outside until she buzzed him on the walkie and said she wasn't having a panic attack in her room again and he needed to clear out before someone accused him of stalking. Eddie and Steve laughed, and as the driver wondered where he was sending Eddie off, he admitted he didn't know.

Still hadn't even called his uncle to find out which spot across town he was camped up in.

And somehow… that conversation ended with another invitation to Steve's house. That time, one to spend the night. Eddie was eager to accept. A bustling house of kids and the most random assortment of adults sounded like the exact opposite of falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat beeping on a machine next to him, and Max's a few feet away.

And thanks to an already stacked dance card - the Byers and Co. on the couch, Joyce and Hop sharing the master, Murray laid claim to the first guest room, the Antonovs in the other - there was really only one place with any spare room without tossing one the injured men to the floorboards.

And that was to partner up and share Steve's bed with him.

It started with Eddie trying to break the ice. Pointing out the grid pattern painted on Steve's walls and hung up on his curtains. Mentioning that it was nothing like how he imagined the King of Hawkins slept. It looked more like a cage than anything else.

Steve shrugged, agreed with the sentiment, and tried to focus on grabbing his own pajama options and getting the night over with. As awkward as it was shaping up to be. But drawing attention to his closet, drew attention to the desk and chair right in front of it. And the denim vest hanging on the back of that chair, which rightfully belonged to Steve's most recent guest.

“There it is!”

Steve turned around and followed Eddie's eyes to the battle vest he'd accidentally borrowed for too long.

“Oh, right! Sorry.” he picked it up from its perch. “Didn't mean to steal it. Just forgot it was there a little.”

“Wow. I let you dress yourself in my battle vest - watching out for your delicate purity so that it might not be besmirched - and you forget about such a deep moment we shared?” Eddie lamented the tragedy. Wondering to himself if it would be too much to try and force a tear.

“I didn't mean I forgot about it like that. Just- I was trying to figure out what to do with it, and I forgot to give it back.” Steve quickly handed it over,” Here.”

Eddie barely looked at the item before he asked,“ What to do with it? That sounds a little spooky. Did you have some kind of black magic spell in mind that you needed it for? You're not gonna steal a lock of my hair after I fall asleep, right?”

“No. Absolutely not. I, just, I was wearing it while I was all gross and sweaty and bleeding, so I figured the same rules as borrowing gym clothes applied, and I should wash it before I gave it back.” Steve tried to explain,” But you have so much stuff on it I didn't want to get ruined, and I wasn't sure how to go about it, and everything has been so insane all the time-”

“I get it. Worry not, Stevie.” Eddie tried to release him from whatever pressure he put on the idea. “Plus you don't really wash a battle vest. It's kinda supposed to go through hell and come out the other side with some authentic grime.”

“But another guy's blood and sweat? That's pretty extreme.” Steve commented. But his face said he leaned more towards 'nasty' than just 'hardcore.'

“You don't understand the culture. That's okay.”

“Alright. Well, then I guess my dilemma turned out for the best.” Steve ducked back into his closet.

Eddie more carefully examined his vest for all the wear and tear it saw. None of the patches or pins looked like they were in danger, but there were some new loose threads he could think about playing with. As he looked it over, he commented with a chuckle,“ Yeah, if you wanna uselessly panic about other stuff and wind up saving the day through inaction, there's the Vecna guy I don't know if you've heard about. I think those magic powers could really speed things along and get us all to summer break in one piece.”

Steve quickly turned out of the hanging garments and urged Eddie,“ Don't let Murray hear you strategize, or he'll barge in and spend an hour actually trying to make a plan out of it.”

He said it so seriously Eddie couldn't even get a response ready while Steve slinked out of the room to go across the hall. To change into the jammies and take care of his nightly routine in the comfort and privacy of his own bathroom. And before Eddie knew it, he was left alone in Steve Harrington's room. Sitting crisscross on the edge of his bed, a pile of denim in his lap, and far too much awareness of how fresh their friendship really was.

The rest of the house had gotten pretty quiet. They'd all turned in for an earlier evening after a long afternoon of work at Hop's cabin and some folks still adjusting their internal clocks to Hawkins time. A big, big house, packed with people, and yet there wasn't much noise.

Steve came back to his room just after a few minutes. He tossed his clothes from the day in a dirty laundry hamper and sat on the other side of the bed. Pushing down the covers before he swung his legs up under them. Eddie followed suit. Standing up to put his vest back on the desk chair for the time being, and climbed into the bed next to his roomie for the night.

And then Eddie and Steve were left to each other. In Steve's bed. Laying still as statues to get some well-deserved rest.

And it was nerve-racking. All of Eddie Munson's nerves were racked. He couldn't help thinking about how the whole situation was so far off the map for him a few weeks ago. On the 22nd of March, Eddie Munson held a broken glass to his neck, and everything's been so strangely on the up and up since. Minus the whole almost-dying part. They'd been forging a bond, a weird one, given such a distinctly separate history. But there they were. Having a sleepover in the famed King's bedroom.

And it wasn't any easier for Steve to deal with. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. It shouldn’t do or mean anything to him. Steve's done this sort of thing with Robin tons of times. Falling asleep next to someone you’re not attracted to should be easy and simple. But it wasn't.

Like, with Robin, they were both allowed to stretch their limbs out in all directions and hug the night away before they tried to kick one another off the bed. But, with Eddie, they were both practically on the edges of the mattress with their backs to each other so they wouldn't accidentally touch or even look at one another. And Steve wasn’t falling asleep. Instead, he felt like he couldn’t move without bothering Eddie.

What if his stitches were still super sore? What if he was lying about the vest and was actually bothered about the condition it was in? What if he was mad about his mom's ring?

And all of a sudden, Eddie started talking.

“You didn’t, by the way.”

Which didn't exactly make any sense as the first thing either of them had said in almost thirty minutes.

“What?”

“Stomp on me.” he clarified.

And it didn't immediately click. But after a second, Steve remembered what he said while Eddie was still in the coma. The part about “I was a bully,” and “I hope I didn't bully you,” but “I wouldn't really remember,” and “Tommy called it stomping on the ants” like that excused any of it. So that was the stomping Eddie was thinking about.

“Oh… so you…“

“Heard that bit?” Eddie finished for him. “Yeah. When our girlie woke me up in my head, some stuff outside started coming through. When there were a lot of you in the room, I couldn’t really follow any of it or understand what you were saying. But you stopped by on your own. Said that bit. It was easy to hear then.”

“Sorry. I honestly didn’t think you’d catch any of it.” Steve tucked his hands in closer to his face. More thankful than anything else that they couldn't see one another for this conversation.

And yet, Eddie joked,“ You planned to waste such a moving monologue on deaf ears? For shame, Harrington, for shame.”

“I just-” he tried again,” I’m sorry-“

But the other wouldn't hear it. “I just said you didn’t do it. Alright? Nothing to waste ‘sorry’ on.”

“But I must have, at some point.” Steve reasoned.

Unsure why his idea was to argue that, no, no, Eddie, actually he did mistreat you, you must be mistaken, think harder. But Eddie didn't waver. His voice was sure and even. And he simply affirmed the fact.

“You didn’t.”

“But-“

“I’ll admit, I convinced myself once or twice that you orchestrated all of it. Sent out your legions of jocks and goons to carry out your dastardly demands for you while keeping your hands clean. But, I know now that I was wrong about that idea.”

And with a pang of guilt that gnawed at his ribs, Steve spoke quietly,“ But I know I’ve said it.”

Freak. He called him The Freak. He knew he did. Hell, he said it just weeks ago when Dustin invited him to the game. He knew that.

But Eddie didn't dwell on it. Didn't deem it the important part.

“Not to me. Not once did you shove my face in it.”

“I’m still sorr-“ but Steve felt a smack on his shoulder. Carefully, he looked over to see that Eddie was laying face up, no longer with his back to Steve. The wall of air between them was gone, in one way or another. So Steve shifted over, joining him in laying back until he was looking up at his ceiling too.

“And do you always do that?” Eddie asked as he tried to get comfortable.

“Do what? Apologiz-”

“Talk through movies?” Eddie interrupted, steering the conversation way out into the left field,” I mean, I was unconscious, but I still heard your whole commentary on Grease. Very strong opinions you have on that one.”

“Okay, Sandy did nothing wrong and shouldn't have had to 'compromise' with Danny at the end just because he lied about their relationship to his guys for points. Had her story been about actually wanting to be less of a goody-two-shoes for her own reasons-”

Eddie stopped him before he really got going,“ That is what I'm talking about. Seriously, dude? And you had something specific to say every minute of it. Was practically watching it with you even with my eyes closed because you'd remind me what beat we were on without fail.”

He bumped into Steve's shoulder with his own. Small laughs bubbled up. And the whole situation didn't feel so awkward and stilted anymore.

“Yeah, I guess.” Steve agreed with a smile,” Rob and I are usually pretty chatty when we watch ‘em together. I think I picked it up from her.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re a real Chatty Cathy, Steve Harrington.”

“That such a bad thing?”

Eddie paused to think on it. But quickly decided otherwise. “Nah. I wouldn’t say so. Felt way less lonely with someone talking.”

Steve felt some pride settle back into himself,“ Then you’re welcome.”

“Oh, great,” he groaned,” Now I went and gave you a big head about it.”

“I think most people would tell you I already had one.” Steve pointed out.

“A big, stupid head.” Eddie took a finger and poked Steve right on the side of his forehead. But before Steve could really say anything else, he tugged the blanket up and rolled over in the bed. His back was up again, but it didn't feel so insurmountable. It was comfortable.

“Go to sleep,” he commanded. As if he wasn't the one that started their discussion in the first place.

Steve rolled onto his own side,” You go to sleep.”

A comeback fit for a first grader. My, how the mighty have fallen. But sometimes falling could be a good thing. Brings a person back down to Earth. Reminds them of all the other people that didn't climb too tall on their high horse.

And that kind of falling, the kind that Steve Harrington did, didn't make him shatter into broken pieces on the ground.

Some parts of a person need to break. Explicitly so they can put themselves back together. And maybe the breaks were always going to be there. But maybe he'd be the better for it. Maybe they all would.

#Totally didn't forget to post this for a while what are you talking about I've never-#Yeah #I did. Sorry Tumblr I need to get back into the habit of checking in on y'all over here. Working on it.#Anyway #I hope this chapter was everything a person could hope for a more?#I really wanted to develop the trauma they're all kind of going through - Robin has some PTSD - Eddie has some survivors guilt - etc #And more importantly than just the pain they are going through is the reality that none of them are alone #Even if they feel alone for a little while. Someone always shows up. And they don't have to sit in it by themselves anymore.#Also some Karen Wheeler X Dmitri Antanov because when I'm not making her sapphic that's my fave guy for her <3 #And I really really really love the scene in season 3 where Karen tells Nancy not to give up on what she wants from this life #And you can kind of see there's a little bit of longing as she says it to her. Pushing away maybe a little bit of regret what she didn't?#And I never see that stuff addressed - so I'm doing it #These characters are so complex goddamn #Also the lil D&D bit was heavily inspired by Drawfee's Drawtectives on YouTube and everyone should watch it #I dm-ed a similar session and it's so fun highly highly highly recommend #And I finally threw two character into an 'and there was only one bed' situation #After all my years of writing fanfiction I'm finally hitting first base #I have a lot of reasons on why I wrote that Steve didn't really bully Eddie in HS - I might make a whole discussion post about it #I know it's a pretty divisive headcanon - but after all the times I've poured over this show - this feels like the most accurate answer #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Steddie #Steveddie #Steve x Eddie #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckney #Ronance #Robin x Nancy #The Fruity Four #Stranger Things

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pomefioredove · 27 days

Text

boop

summary: booping them + their reactions type of post: headcanons characters: third years additional info: is short, platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral author's note: this would've been good to post for the tumblr april fool's event but I missed out so you're getting it now instead!

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

hmm... okay!

trey often navigates his interactions with other students based on his interactions with his siblings

there's an order to human behavior, after all

especially with the underclassmen shenanigans (he's really seen it all at this point; don't ask)

none of his siblings, however, have walked up to him unannounced and booped his nose

not yet, at least?

it seems to make you happy though, so he just smiles

half of his job as vice housewarden is "going along with it"

he's pretty used to nonsense

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

he's editing something on his phone the first time you try and doesn't even notice it

...and the second time, and the third

it becomes a sort of routine for you

tentatively trying to see how many times you can get away with it before he finally notices and says something

and it only spirals from there, of course

you'll up to him while he's talking to someone else, boop him, and walk away

(much to the other person's confusion)

does he notice? yeah, of course

do you need to know that he notices? ...maybe not

he likes the attention, just let him have this one

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ⋆˚⸙˖°༄✩⊹

he gnaws your hand off

okay, not really. too messy for him

(and the consequences would be such a headache to deal with...)

but he is all grumpy because you woke him up for that

"What was that supposed to be? -_- Don't do that again,"

rolls over and goes back to sleep

you're lucky he reacted as nonchalantly as he did tbh, lions don't like being pet, and he could've kicked you out of his room in a heartbeat for that

(maybe you get a special pass to be annoying)

note to you: don't do that again

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

boops you back right away

does he necessarily know what that means? no, but he'll find out soon enough anyway

and based off your body language and expression it seems like a gesture of affection

...which he's all too happy to return

(he's so excited to be touching you affectionately he could explode)

now every time you see each other you end up going back and forth for hours

"boop!" "boop!" "boop!"

that's one sure way to give Vil a headache

(you may or may not end up temporarily banned from Pomefiore for disturbing the peace)

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭 ˚⊹˚₊🕊 ˚✧ ₊

you'd assume he gets annoyed, right?

well, he's a little surprised at first (people just don't go around touching him, after all)

then he just smiles

"Remember what we said about asking before touching, hm?"

you're lucky he thinks you're cute

(if not a little strange)

like, so lucky

congratulations on being the only human on earth who gets away with casually touching his face like that

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 ₊✩‧₊˚⊹༄˚₊모‧₊

well. what do you expect

his eyes widen and his face (and hair) go pink and he internally freaks out (but externally just stands there)

"Um... What was that for?"

Idia might be a little more familiar with the conventions of a boop than anyone else

it's what you do to adorable little animals, right? like kitties and puppies?

so... why are you doing it to him?

if you say you "just felt like it" he might believe you

if you say it's because you think he's cute he will be avoiding you for the rest of the month

good luck!

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

blinks.

has zero clue what you meant by that

but you seem happy with yourself so it couldn't have been a bad thing, right?

"I'm unfamiliar with that gesture. Is that a greeting from your home?"

you explain that it's a sort of affection you show towards cute things

"Oh, well... you're quite brave. I'm honored,"

he's definitely all sunshine and rainbows for the rest of the week

he's all but giggling and kicking his feet back and forth

no one really questions him

and he doesn't really explain

(if Sebek finds out you booped the heir to the throne of Briar Valley as if he were a kitty cat he will gnaw your hand off)

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞 ✩⁺₊°⊹ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ☽｡°⊹

pleasantly surprised, doesn't even question it

he is adorable, after all, he can't blame you for wanting to be affectionate with him

boops you back, of course

after all, aren't you just the cutest thing too?

if you try to walk away after booping him he will find you to return the favor

will somehow make it a competitive sport

waiting for you around corners, hiding in every nook and cranny so that he might catch you by surprise and boop you

(he is totally keeping count of who's ahead)

it makes the school a warzone for like a solid week before Silver's pleas to "please be normal about the prefect" finally work

(AKA Lilia gets bored of it and finds another way to be close to you)

#queued #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader

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alotofrandomfangirling · 9 months

Text

Dating Roronoa Zoro would include (liveaction!Zoro x female!reader headcanons)

Tw: slight cursing, a bit suggestive towards the end, mentions of sword fighting

A/n: okay so i decided to give it a try myself lol this is completely based off the live action (i haven't watched the anime nor read the manga). I hope you like it, i'm so in love with our green haired baby 🥰 also forgive me for any mistakes, english is not my first language 🙏🏻

• First things first,we gotta make it clear: Zoro acts tough and all but deep down he is a big softie akslajskak

• The thing is, because of his past, he isn't very used to being treated kindly

• So when he found you it was like his world completely changed

• He cherished every little act of care you did for him

• He loooved when you ran your fingers through his hair

• He would close his eyes and enjoy it with a small smile on his lips

• Or when you caressed the back of his neck when you kissed him

• It drove him crazyyy

• He loved these little delicate touches that made his heart do a backflip

• And how about when you grabbed his face, looked deep into his eyes and kissed the tip of his nose?

• Boy would blush like hell

• "You're so cute when you blush" - you'd tease him with another kiss on the cheek

• "No, i'm not" - he said frowning and trying to brush that off, which only made you giggle and kiss him again

• You would always make sure to let him know how much you loved him

• And even though he wasn't the best in expressing his feelings, you could feel how grateful he was for that

• He would always look at you with the most passionate eyes and that's when you knew he loved you just as much

• And he would show it too

• Hell he would do anything for you

• Once he made Sanji prepare a whole feast for you (with him helping ajdkajskaj) because you accidentally let slip you missed food from home

• Or that time he secretly bought you a cute bracelet he saw you staring at when you stopped by at a village

• That's how much he loved you and wanted to make you happy

• And the straw hats would always tease you guys about it

• Except poor Luffy who didn't understand anything that was going on lol

• But he saw how happy you both were and, if his crew was happy, he was happy too

• Now Zoro wasn't much of PDA

• But he made sure to show everyone you belonged to each other

• He would usually put his arm around your waist or around your shoulders

• (When he did the latter one, you liked to intertwine your fingers with his which he thought was super cute ajskajskja)

• You on the other hand liked to hook your arm with his when he had his hand in his pocket

• Let's be honest you loved feeling the strong muscles of his arms

• Yeah, his physique was something you admired a lot

• You loved to watch him practice his sword fighting

• The way his strong arms moved

• That pretty face he did when he was concentrated

• The way his fingers moved on the sword

• Him all sweaty...

• okay let's stop over there

• He noticed you watching and one day he had a brilliant idea (or so he thought)

• You were a very skilled fighter, but you had never tried fighting with a weapon

• So he decided to teach you how to fight with his swords

• Ngl it was tough

• But you were very decided to try your best

• But actually the best part turned out to be being extra close to him

• "Hey, you have to position your arms like this" - he said as he gently lift your arms with a touch so soft it gave you butterflies

• He stood behind you as he helped you correctly hold the sword, putting his hands in yours (yeah like a big cliche move lol)

• He was so close you could feel his breath on the back of your neck

• Which only made you even more distracted and had you get the move wrong again

• "Zoro, love, let's be honest, i can't do it. You are the greatest swordsman i know and i'll never be any close to that, so let's just give up" - you said, frustrated

• "What? No. (Y/N), you are the most determined and dedicated person i've ever known and i'm sure you can do anything you want" - he said, holding your hand and looking at you lovingly - "just... try it one more time. For me?" - he said with puppy eyes and you couldn't say no to the man you loved so much

• You grabbed the sword again and to your surprised you nailed the movement

• "I did it! Oh my gosh, Zoro, i did it!" - you said smiling from ear to ear

• He was as surprised and happy as you, with that pretty smile he didn't show often but that you loved so much

• He grabbed you and spun you around as you both laughed

• "I knew you could do it" - he said as he put you on the ground again - "i'm so proud of my girl" - he kissed your cheek

• And now it was your time to blush as he ruffled your hair

• (Needless to say, Usopp and Sanji were watching the whole thing and started making fun of you two, which only made you blush even harder lmaooo)

• Okay so we all know and love his deep voice, right?

• Now imagine his morning voice 💀

• After spending a ahem very good night together you'd wake up next to each other in the morning

• "Morning, Zoro" - you'd say still sleepy

• "Morning, babe. D'you sleep well?" - he asked in that deep, raspy voice that gave you all the butterflies

• Damnnnn

• You'd get weak in the knees all over again lmao

• And that could lead to something else 👀

• But that's a whole another story ajdkajskaj

• And speaking of his voice

• He wasn't much of talking, but he slowly started opening up to you

• Sharing his thoughts, fears and stories from his past

• You saw through him and broke down his walls, so he felt 100% comfortable around you

• You'd lay down together and talk about everything

• That was such a special and intimate moment for you

• You loved being there with him, taking in his scent and listening to his voice while he traced circles down your back

• He would tell you stories about Kuina and the promise he made

• You swear you had never seen him that vulnerable

• But you were glad he felt safe enough to share that with you

• In the end you just hugged and reassured him

• "I know you will keep your promise, and i'll be here supporting you until the end" - you said, gently cupping his cheek

• "Thank you, (Y/N)" - he said softly, and you could see the warmth in his eyes - "now i have another reason to believe i can make it"

• "What is it?" - you asked, a bit confused

• "Having you by my side" - he said in his low voice, laying down and closing his eyes

• Your heart fluttered at that ��

• "It's my pleasure, Roronoa Zoro" - you said smiling and cuddling him as you both fell asleep <3

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece live action #netflix one piece #live action roronoa zoro

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dykeomania · 4 months

Text

lovergirl!hazel headcanons

｡.｡ just some evidence of a love that transcends hunger, tbh.

a/n: i needed a break from writing a fic and wanted to write something sappy. this is the something sappy in question. wanted it to give how-you-become-hazel's-lover -> what she does when you're actually her lover vibe but it just got real mushy. i like it. i hope you like it, too. proofread, but i'm blind as fuck + i'm rusty, so.

tags: gender neutral (i think. i may have fucked up once or twice. please correct me if i did, i proofread fr fr over time. not intended for cis men), body neutral, and poc friendly. some niche reader things (tarot mention, reader wears makeup). mild nsfw -- kissing, making out, heavy petting. almost third base. starts in high school, ends in college.

practice fanfic etiquette. please don't plagiarize or repost my stuff.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who sits up straight on the edge of your bathtub and looks up at you in complete awe when you're getting ready. she's got the dumbest, most lovesick puppy look in her eyes as she watches her lover line her lips, and apply a sheer coat of gloss on top. when they turn around to ask if it's even, hazel smiles so wide that it makes the apples of her cheeks sore.

she doesn't really know if it looks okay, she just knows that she wants to kiss you.

she only manages an mhm because it's what you want from her and, well.. at this point, hazel's convinced that she'd drop just about everything to give whatever you want.

you snicker, closing the space between you in slow and steady strides. "what are you looking at, huh?" you teases, grin stretched across lips lined nude, gleaming pink.

"mmm..." hazel can't help but like, drunklenly (she's dead sober).. haphazardly loop you in by the belt loop, head tilting easily to the right. "yyyyyou."

her eyes droop as she falls victim to the familiar spell that you cast over her. one that starts with you taking her face in her hands, and bringing yourself close enough for to take in all at once. she's made dizzy by the smell of your conditioner, made defenseless by the familiar trace of your body wash radiating off of your skin.

"what're you looking at me for?" you grin, your hands hot on her cheeks as you stand between her legs.

"why wouldn't i wanna look at you?" hazel gently manages, hand finding comfortable purchase on your hips. she grips gently with admiration, fingertips pressing into sacred flesh of something, someone, who she couldn't believe is hers. "you're just so pretty."

but let's take a few steps back first,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who meets you purely by coincidence. you don't go to fight club, and you don't do cheer. you don't have any classes together, you hardly even know of each other. you do, however, have to work concessions for football together one night.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't talk much, and honestly standing next to you feels kinda stupid with the bruise that she has on her cheek. she usually never really cares and she's usually super talkative -- she doesn't talk much because well.. she doesn't really know.. how to. how to talk to pretty people -- well, it's not like she finds you pretty, it's just.. anyways,

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who makes some dumb joke about athletes and you kind of snort.. and she's immediately charmed. hazel callahan who has a desire to keep you entertained, and continues to do so throughout the remainder of the game.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who actually is in your class, but, neither of you just really noticed. hazel callahan who sits next to you in the weeks following. who spends her free periods with you. who eats lunch with you. who eventually gets around to telling you about fight club, over turkey and rye sandwiches.

"so you just, like..." you take a break from chewing, tonguing some bread out of your back molar. "punch the shit out of each other, and it's school-sponsored?"

"...well, yeah. but in like a self-defense, queer way. bring people together, create some solidarity. a safe-space on campus for queer community, kind of thing."

"oh okay, so like, in a slay way," you revise.

hazel stares. scoffing out a gentle laugh. "uh... yeah.." hazel furrows her brows, shaking her head. "um.. what does that.. what does that, like, mean?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who becomes your best friend.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who really likes you. like, as a person.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who likes you maybe a little bit too much.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know how to embroider, so when you embroidered her converse -- creating a wreath of vines, speckled with bright little flowers around the all star symbol -- she was so happy. but she felt so bad because she didn't know how to repay you.

"let me make it up to you?" she insists, fingers playing with your own, but not creating enough distraction to prevent you from protesting.

"what?" you scoff, subconsciously locking her hands with yours, as though you're about to declare a thumb war. "no, how?"

"i don't know! this is so nice, let me like..." hazel shrugs voice dropping timidly, "..take you out or something."

a beat passes, one that feels like forever. a large enough one to create space for all the butterflies to rumble around both of your stomachs, and for the elephant to pass through the room. hazel can't tell if it's your hand that's begun to sweat in your grasp, or if it's hers.

your eyes narrow at her, grin stretched into something cheshire as you shake your hand, and hers. "i think you just wanna take me out on a date."

hazel smiles sheepishly, cheeks flushing a bright flamingo. she shrugs, next words quiet and intentional,

"so what if i do?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan doesn't know how to embroider but she does have an eye for wildflowers. when the girl who shows up at your doorstep, it's with a dorky smile, a batch of spring, and a bandaid wrapped around her index finger and her thumb. the flowers that she biked about an hour north to pluck -- from a field she discovered after having simply gone too far -- are bunched together and wrapped in a trader joe's paper bag, the kind that her mom always leaves in the kitchen under the sink. she put the boquet together herself. spent too much time thinking about whether or not you would like the arrangement or the colors, probably went to the store to grab a few of your favorite flowers that she couldn't find.

"oh, these are for you. see, i tried to make this whole thing, like.. semi.. transactional. again, like, i don't really know how to embroider flowers, or like anything really, so... these were next best thing, i guess." she offers, as though it's nothing.

"you look.. really nice." hazel's eyes linger, stricken and dumb. she fills her lungs with air, huffing out her next sentence. "are yoooouuu.. ready to go?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who thinks that star signs mean nothing, and doesn't know jackshit about crystals or anything of the like. but hazel callahan who is all eyes and ears, criss-cross-apple-sauce with you on her floor, as she watches you knock your knuckles on a deck of tarot cards and shuffle through them for what you called a "semi unreliable, two-card reading."

hazel callahan who jumps a little when two cards fly out from the deck. who furrows her eyebrows when you turn the over. an the lovers and two of cups, both upright.

"what..." she snorts. "what does that mean?"

"um.." she watches you blush. "it means.." and she blushes when your eyes linger on hers, and then look up. feels her stomach flutter when she watches you take a deep breath in through your nose, like you're shuffling through all of the words in your head.

"...let's just saaaaayyyy... nnnew connections might be coming your way, soon."

hazel has no fucking idea what that means, looking at you, she surely could hope that that's true.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is shocked that you want to like.. have a sleepover with her. this doesn't really happen to her. like at all. but it's happening with you, so she's down.. but it has to be planned. hazel callahan pulls out all the stops to try to make sure that it's.. well, perfect, she guesses? she makes sure that it's on a weekend where her mom is out of town (not even because she wants to do anything but you know how her mom is). she asks you what all of your favorite snacks are beforehand, and offers to go get more if you run out. she makes sure that you have satin pillowcases if you have textured hair, just in case you forget a bonnet, or anything. probably does that regardless of whether or not that's applicable to you, because she hears it's better for your skin and what not. she gets a weighted blanket for you and some extra pillows + takes out an extra throw if she knows that you get cold easily, or damn near strips her bed down to just one comforter and gets a desk fan to face her bed if she knows that you get too hot.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you create a shared movie list with, and who will sit with you and watch all of your favorite movies. all of your least favorite movies. will watch movies that you insist that she must see and will do so with very little fight because it's whatever you want, really. hazel callahan who is very quickly realizing that she would do whatever you wanted, as long as it meant that it got you to smile.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ (hazel callahan who, granted, talks through a lot of those fucking movies. like. hazel callahan who has a really fucking hard time paying attention to movies.)

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who clearly has overthought everything. who laughs at and understands all of your dumb jokes and is always a little shocked when you laugh at hers. who lets you rest your head on her shoulder when you watch movies in her home-theater. who lays with you in her bed and compares your tiktok for you page with hers and finds it a little too easy to poke fun of you. finds it not as easy to remain calm when your head rests comfortably on her chest, and thus hopes to god that all of the cringy tiktok audios are masking the sound of her heart beating out of her chest.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who looks at you when you mention that it's getting late, and insists that there's a guest room if you wanna sleep in there, or an air mattress that she was supposed to blow up.

"it's too late for that, though." you frown.

"no," hazel, being hazel, is quick to reassure, shaking her head. "no, no, i could totally blow it up. we have an automated pump, it'll take like 20 minutes."

"mm, i don't know, it's still kinda late for all of that..."

hazel blinks at you. her eyebrows raise, corners of her lips gently upturning. "okay. i mean, do you wanna take the guest room?"

you look up at her, eyes big on purpose. "that guest room's kinda scary." you lift a brow. "it's dark. and cold."

hazel thinks she might.. be tripping. she has to be. her blink is slow, and her face knots together, and releases -- the way it does when she gets all timid and indecisive. "o..kay..." she grins nonetheless, furrowing her eyebrows. "so then .. where are you gonna sleep?"

"..i mean.." you burn, and so does she. "...i could just sleep here with you?"

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who can't help but feel girlish and vulnerable laying in her bed with you, her stomach tied in knots over how there is nothing usual about this situation. fully seeing you in your pajamas. feeling the gentle flesh of your bare calves rub against hers. being within such close proximity of you that she can still smell the lingering remnants of soap on your skin from your shower.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who dares to let her finger dance on your upper bicep, but that's just about it, really.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who only nudges closer only when you nudge closer. who only lowers her voice, when you lower your voice. who only holds eye contact when you start it, but is always the first to look away.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who falls into a trap: eye contact held after some conversation that did not, and does not matter. she follows your eyes down, chocolate eyes focusing on the arch of your cupids bow. she does tilt her head up to find her nose nudging softly against the underside of yours. she doesn't know how you two got this close. hazel callahan who feels her hands grow sweaty, feeling your breath linger over her the chap of her lips. who nearly stiffens when she feels your hand press into her back, but instead arches into the crevice your body makes and presses her palm against your hip.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does what she thinks she's supposed to do, and kisses you -- soft and gentle, like the whispers that fluttered over both of your lips earlier. brief, and endearing.

her lips stick to yours, and then her lips press into yours. and then her lips open when yours do, and her hand tightens on you when yours does.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who has no fucking idea what she's doing. like, seriously. she kind of knows -- i mean, okay, yeah, she knows how to kiss, but this is, like.. not just a kiss. hazel's kisses are brief. gentle, maybe a little slow. never this deep. hazel callahan who forgets herself when her fingers weave through your hair. hazel callahan who doesn't recognize the way her breath shakes in your throat when your fingers ambitiously sift through her thick, black locks and pull.

hazel callahan whose lips slot over yours, and unlock. who leans forward when you lean back, and is almost nearly on top of you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who doesn't know what to do with her hand, so she puts it everywhere. glides it over your side, presses it over the expanse of your lower back. who smooths her hand under your shirt and marvels in the way your skin burns against her palm. who itches to explore, traversing over your stomach, venturing up, up, and up--

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who stops dead in her tracks when you hum something sour in her mouth and grab her wrist. who looks at you stunned with parted lips as you softly shake your head against hers.

"not yet," you pant, opening your eyes to look at her. "not yet."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who bats her lashes, dizzy with affection yet sobered from your action. she knows how you sound. not like you're rejecting her, but like you're admitting something, which you.. might be. something that she understands. regardless, she understands.

but she burns bright with embarrassment, stomach rattling with a guilt that crawls up her throat and wraps around it, tightening and tightening...

"yeah," she manages a whispers after a while. somehow, it's still raspy. "yeah, okay.."

"okay.."

"...m'sorry--"

"don't be," you shake your head. "keep kissing me."

you rush, and it's kind of just in time. whatever stinging was lingering in her chest subsides as you bring yourself closer, lips softly capturing her lower lip in affirmation after hazel just stares at you.

hazel callahan who blinks, oscillating between consciences, dazed and a little confused. she's cautious and readjusted, her hand only lingering over your side as she whispers a faint "are you sure..?"

the sentence dissolves when on the tip of hazel's tongue when her lips find yours again, at your action, which is her answer. hazel callahan who listens. who lets you take her hand and place it somewhere that feels more comfortable, somewhere that's right and yet still sensual.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is wiped, but intentional with every kiss that either you or her leads, every swipe of her lips over your jaw, every tender kiss that you let her place against the stretch of your neck.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who will admire within her bounds. kissing you, and drowning in you until she is simply too sleepy to continue. until she is dizzy and feels comfortable enough to nuzzle her face somewhere into the crook of you, breathing you in until you become a part of her dreams,

and she will wake -- in the morning, and in the middle of the night -- only to have a hard time believing that she isn't still dreaming.

...

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who kind of has to get used to.. all of it. who crushes, even though she's already "achieved," so to speak. who grins at her phone when she's texted, who finds any excuse to facetime you and keep you on the line -- sometimes just so that she can look at you. who finds any excuse to be around you.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who you can't get rid of once you go both go to college. who facetimes you whenever, who visits you on weekends. who comes into your space and steals all of your sweatshirts and your pajama pants and of course, all of your spare time.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel "no, i can make that for you" callahan who can't embroider, but can crochet. she will buy you that jellycat that you really want, a hundred percent. hazel callahan will also greet you with a fucked up rendition of said stuffed animal that you wanted (giving jamdog, perhaps) and furrows her eyebrows when you have to hide your laugh with your hand.

"what?" she asks, grin dulling only for a moment. "do you not like it?"

"no it's--" you cover your mouth. "it's perfect." you cackle. when you cup her cheeks, all the worry and fear of judgement fades. sort of. at least enough. "you're perfect, babe. i love it."

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who does, in fact, keep a picture in her wallet of her lover, ready at all times. hazel callahan who weaves her lover into casual conversation.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who still doesn't really understand figure of speech all that well so when you say things like "i wish you could just come over," she literally goes "..well like, i could,"

and then proceeds to make like, a three hour drive.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who keeps the picture that you hate of yourself as her lockscreen and it's not to spite you, it's because she thinks you're beautiful, and she has no idea what you're talking about.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who figures out what names you like to be called by throwing everything at a wall and seeing that sticks. pretty. handsome. lover. angel. baby. and when she does find one, one that makes you blush just about as hard as she does every time you even look in her direction, she holds it over your head to high heavens. makes it your contact name. uses it to punctuate reassuring sentences, when she greets you, when she tells you goodnight.

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who gets to take you on real dates, and gets excited to. who gets giddy when you get ready. who gets to fix your hair and come up behind you when you take mirror selfies once you're finished. who now feels comfortable enough to place her hands at the mid-point of your waist and let them venture toward your frontside while she rests her chin on your shoulder, and leans in to kiss your cheek. who tells you you smell nice, and makes you smile when she buries her face into some part of you and literally just goes rahhhh!!!!

ღ*♡∞:｡.｡ hazel callahan who is also stuck sometimes, in moment such as these, watching the wonder who she has had a crush on since high school -- jesus, has it really been that long? -- with gentle eyes and a completely disarmed disposition.

hazel callahan who is honestly such a fucking loser -- like, literally, loser-since-birth, no-hope-since-middle-school, gay-haircut-and-new-repotoire-can't-save-you, loser, and can't help but ponder and marvel over how someone like you is in her hands. in her face. in her life.

"m'not that pretty," you insist, fingers weaving through her hair, nails etching at hazel's scalp in a way that hazel has grown to like. love, even.

her eyes flicker over your face, smile lopsided and eyes heavy like despite everything, you don't even know the half of it. she scoffs, voice hardly above a whisper,

"yeah no, you are so much more than pretty."

#hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #lesbian #wlw #bisexual #sapphic #ruby cruz #ruby cruz x reader #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #lets go lesbians

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rassicas · 10 months

Text

Frye is not a Vampire Squid.

It's one thing to headcanon something, but it's another to pass it around a fact, which is why i have to say: Frye is not canonically a vampire squid. This idea originated from a popular twitter thread made at the time of Splatoon 3's direct, and the evidence it's based on is...weak. And yet I still see this info passed around... Yeah I think Frye is just supposed to be a regular Inkling.

the splatoon team has shown us that inklings, like humans, can have a lot of diversity. while our player character models are limited, in-universe its a different story. these are all considered regular inklings. look at the varied eye masks, faces,...they can even have blue skin! So i think that frye is just the splatoon team showing us how more diverse inklings can be.

I made a google drive folder of Inkling hairstyles with a lot of concept art, you can see many diverse examples. To address the other specific points of evidence used:

Long fangs: All Inklings have sharp "teeth"/ beaks. Inkling beak shapes can vary. the last one appears to have a snaggletooth.

Long ears: Ear shapes can vary as well. compare ears of the squid sisters with the player character. Pearl has short ears. hell even the player inkling ears between s2 and s3 are different.

purple fingertips: prior to S3, fingertip coloration was something only seen on octolings, not on inklings. with how her and Shiver can freely change finger tip colors according to their ink, it seems like just a thing inklings and octolings can Do and we just haven't seen much of until now, like how we didn't see much varied hairstyles until s2. Perhaps with how integrated octarian culture is in the splatlands, inklings have caught onto this style as well? Her earrings, the sharp pointy bits in her design: Yes this was used as evidence for the vampire squid thing. That's all eel motifs.

Now the biggest reason she cannot be a vampire squid... vampire squids are NOT squids! They're more closely related to octopuses, but really, they're their own thing (also they're called 'bat octopuses' in japanese... the language the splatoon developers speak. nothing to do with vampires or squids)

With how splatoon's designs have been so far, other species of cephalopods are not guaranteed to look like inklings, especially if not closely related to ink-producing squids and octopuses (and vampire squids are not) Here we have a dumbo octopus (not octoling). also nautiluses. In the case of a species that would be more closely related to the playable species, what seems to be an octoling based on a blue ringed octopus.

Going off this, if the splatoon team were to make a vampire squid character, it most likely wouldn't be a subtle 'inkling/octoling but 2 inches to the left,' For such a unique species, I think they would be pretty explicit about it in the design itself. And considering that they are deepsea creatures that do not produce normal ink, a vampire squid in splatoon might look pretty odd! In conclusion...please stop claiming frye is "supposed to be" or "canonically" a vampire squid, it's a flimsy headcanon based on superficial traits at best and there is zero evidence that was the developer's intent.

(And while I'm here, Pearl is not confirmed a pygmy squid, marie is not confirmed to be a firefly squid, marina is not a webfoot octopus etc. That's fanon based on their japanese names, not canon. As far as we know, the player inklings and inkling idols are all just one species of inkling. inklings and octolings seem to take inspiration from multiple species, but it's not confirmed if they are those species.)

#frye #splatoon lore #splatoon headcanons #splatoon

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moonyswritinq · 11 days

Note

charles x american!reader? inspo from the song so american by olivia rodrigo? like him just making fun of an american accent lol

so american — charles rowland x gn reader

❝ SO AMERICAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Headcanons for Charles with an American reader, based on Olivia Rodrigo’s song ‘So American’.

PAIRING ➢ charles rowland x american gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ pining, banter, implicit sex, ish-canon timeline, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢3.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I didn’t know if you wanted a one shot or headcanons, but I felt like this would best fit as a mix of the two. I sort of got carried away. thank you for the request and hope you enjoy!

And if you do enjoy, I URGE you to like, reblog AND comment!!! It's so important to me as a writer.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

Drivin' on the right-side road He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Charles had a habit of taking everything lightly and making jokes to play off serious situations, something that could bother you at times.

The first time you met, for instance, was one of those times.

You were driving down the road of your little town and had to slam the brakes as to not run over the incredibly handsome, but incredibly stupid, boy that had just tried to cross the road.

You had honked at him and he looked up in surprise before immediately being pulled back by the hands of a red-headed girl. He broke out in a grin as you drove off with a scoff, internally cursing him.

The next time you saw him was only later that same day, surprisingly at your family friend’s, and the local butcher’s, shop.

You had walked in an immediately let out a sigh of annoyance, one of which he heard and turned around with that same grin plastered on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy with a death wish,” you muttered, ignoring him and his friends to go up to the counter. Unluckily for you, Jenny was not there.

The boy scratched his neck bashfully. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot you lot drive on the right side of the road, which is technically the wrong side of the road. Just wasn’t looking.”

An eyebrow raised in his direction. English.

He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “The name’s Charles. Pleased to meet you.”

You took it as a shiver ran up your spine, weirdly so cold to the touch he felt warm. It was the first time you managed to get a proper look at him, admiring his stylish clothes and sharp features. And his eyes were as warm as his hand was, deep swirling pools of darkness that seemed to emit nothing but light. You smiled back, introducing yourself.

“Pleasure. And this is Edwin, Crystal, and Niko,” he introduced his friends behind him, who all gave you a smile except for the uptight-looking Edwin.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it,” you said, turning back to the counter as Jenny came out. You handed her the keys to the car with a wink. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Jenny. Told you I would return it without a scratch.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “That is left to be seen, kiddo.”

You were about to turn around just when you caught the end of the other teenagers’ conversation. “Did you guys just say ‘Point No Point?” you asked and swivelled around to face them.

Niko nodded enthusiastically, briefly glancing at the boys. “Yeah, we’re going there for a—um, to meet someone there.”

“That’ll take ages without a car,” you remarked.

Crystal sighed. “Well, I can’t drive. How are we gonna get there?”

Your lips lifted into the beginning of a smirk as you turned back to Jenny. She heaved a deep sigh and threw back the keys into your hands.

Your smile broke out as you thanked her and motioned for the others to follow you. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

Charles insisted on sitting in the front seat beside you, his feet up on the dashboard, tapping his finger along to the music in the car. You thought it was oddly charming.

You had asked what their whole deal was and Niko had inevitably revealed that they were the Dead Boy Detectives and that Charles was, in fact, dead. Upon hearing it, you almost slammed the breaks again in pure shock but managed to keep driving as if nothing.

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American

It also started raining on your way there, making you groan in frustration as you remarked that “all this water is going to get Jenny’s car so muddy.”

“‘Wa-der,’” he had chuckled under his breath.

In an instant, you had turned to him with a harsh glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” came his amused reply. “You’re just so American.”

It wasn’t nothing, though. It was the first of many remarks against your American accent.

You had arrived at the lighthouse and very warily gotten out of the car. Somehow you had gotten roped up in their case and was now there to help them out through the end.

Charles had noticed your shivering in the cold rain and offered you his jacket which, despite ghost physics, was quite heavy and warm. You supposed ghosts couldn’t really get wet by normal rain, as both Edwin and Charles seemed unbothered by it.

You had tried to argue against taking it, claiming that you wouldn’t want to ‘strip him of any of his Britishness’, to which he had only scoffed and heaved the thing onto you while saying, “so American of you to assume my Britishness can be stripped away merely by my coat.”

Charles had then given you an appraising look and, while the others were distracted by the ghosts on the pier, bent down slightly to say, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.”

Your cheeks had warmed immediately and you’d turned away to not give it away, earning a chuckle. It made you smile though.

He learnt quickly that complimenting you would earn him a blush and a soft nudge against his ribcage, which made him do it even more.

That was also when he liked pointing out your accent. It started as a small observation, but eventually evolved into insults and bits.

He did it every chance he got; saying ‘lit-er-ally’ with an over-exaggerated vocal fry; ‘aloominum’; ‘hey, y’all’; and, his absolute favourite of them all, ‘i’m walkin here!’. Half of them made you laugh incessantly and the other half made you drag a hand over your face in frustration.

The worst was when he would parrot you personally, making you half wondering if you should be ashamed of your accent. When you had asked him about it, though, he had been quick to assure you that he loved your accent.

And that was when you started doing it back to him.

It became a game for the two of you, often just imitating each other’s accents.

“Are you ‘schewpid’?” you asked, turning to him.

He chuckled dryly, cocking his head in your direction. “Yeah, yeah, while you’re throwing insults at me I am just going to go grab a ‘kawfee’.”

You scoffed. “You’re a ghost, Charles. You can’t have coffee.”

“I can, but it just tastes disgusting.”

“Okay, well, while you’re at it, ‘kan I please ‘ave a cupa wa’a’?” you said, meeting his defiant gaze before he burst out in laughter. It made your insides warm knowing you were the cause of that laugh.

“Would you two please stop it?” came Crystal’s irritated reply. Edwin only rolled his eyes at your antics but you knew he agreed with Crystal’s discontent. You caught Charles’ gaze and broke out in a smile.

“I don’t know,” said Niko, fiddling with her fingers, “I think it’s cute when they do that.”

And just like that, you both fell silent and turned away from each other.

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere he goes

You knew you liked him, a lot. But you hadn’t dared admit anything to him or anyone else and tried your best to hide it—not that you were doing a very good job.

The only thing that knew what you felt were the thrown-away poems you had written on a whim, his beaming face starkly imprinted in your mind.

You didn’t think it was fair for him to make you feel that much, enough to actually write poems about him. God, you were whipped (Charles would have definitely made fun of your using that word if he heard it).

You came with the Dead Boy Detectives on all their cases, now an honorary member in their Detective Agency. You enjoyed a lot of detective stories, like Sherlock Holmes and so seemingly had absorbed some of it, because you were quite good at figuring out clues.

It was all practically worth it to see Charles' smile directed at you after you had discovered something.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read

And despite it all, you didn’t feel quite enough for him. He was a charismatic and vibrant person, while you thought of yourself as quite rude and boring.

Sometimes you wondered if you were too harsh in your remarks at Charles’ britishness, but then remembered his always-present smile that met your gaze and your worries fell away.

Nothing had happened up until that point, but it became increasingly more difficult denying anything being between you two.

Even Edwin started catching on and asking if something was between you two, which lead to some very awkward silences where Charles would drag Edwin away with an apologetic smile thrown your way.

Until finally it got too difficult to deny.

Niko would ask you something about a case and somehow you would end up talking about Charles’ smile, his eyes, the way he dressed and what he was interested in. She finally got so sick of it and decided to just call you out on it.

“You like Charles.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she put a finger against your lips, causing you to be too stunned to speak.

“And don’t say that you don’t, because it’s obvious,” she said, removing her finger.

“It’s not that obvious, is it?” you asked. You refused to meet her gaze and instead tried to look anywhere but her.

“Yes, it is.” She sighed, bringing her hands up to clasp your shoulders. “We all know it. Even Charles. But he won’t admit it either, so please go talk to him before we all die.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt a small smile start to form on your lips. “OK, just a little dramatic there?”

Niko shook her head with a serious expression on her face. “No. Now go find him.”

She had shooed you away after that, making sure that both Edwin and Crystal were distracted enough so that you could slip out to talk to Charles privately.

You found him in the other room, rooting through his backpack to find something ridiculously large, no wonder.

And he says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him If he keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

He seemed to have heard your footsteps as you were coming in because he tilted his head in your directing, flashing his trademark smile.

The sight of it made you swoon and you had to take a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts. When he finally asked what was up, your words came out jumbled and very much not like you had planned them to come out.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking ahold of your shoulders and meeting your nervous gaze with his steady one. “Take a deep breath. C’mon, breathe with me.”

You did as he said, breathing with him, trying and failing to ignore the shivers that spread along with his touch. When you had collected yourself, he smiled and let go, much to your disappointment.

“That’s it. Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked.

You strode past him, opting to face the window instead of seeing his face. It only made it harder to get out any coherent sentences. “Why’d you think anything was on my mind?”

“Well,” remarked Charles, strolling after you, “it’s not everyday you storm in here as if the world is ending and then end up babbling like a stroke patient.”

You stared at him in horror before rolling your eyes. “Stop being so British, Charles.”

“Sorry, no can do, love.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” you muttered to yourself.

“What?” he asked immediately, striding right in front of you so he could look you in the eyes.

“Look,” you started, refusing to meet his eye and instead looking anywhere else. Although, you could feel his gaze burning into your skull. “I might have developed some… feelings for you.”

Charles’ eyes widened at your words and you tried to turn again but he grabbed your shoulder to hold you in place. You sighed and finally met his gaze. His eyes were the same mysterious pools of darkness that you were used to, but you might have fooled yourself to imagine something else in them—something hopeful.

You decided to continue your confession because you were far past the point of redemption and might as well get it all out in one go.

“And the problem is, Charles, that however hard I try not to, I keep developing feelings for you. Even your annoying habits and antics cause me to fall for you. And, I swear to God, that if you keep this shit up I’m going to be properly gone for you.”

You waited a breath for his reaction, but when nothing came you were forced to ask him again. “Charles?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered out, his voice suddenly dry and cracked. “Sorry, I—uh, I was not prepared for that.”

You shrugged. “That’s alright. We’ll just go back to being friends. Nothing needs to change.”

He shook his head violently. “That’s absolutely not OK.”

You had but a moment to be surprised before he went in for the best kiss you had had yet in your short life. He held you like he had never touched anything before in his life and kissed you like he was a dying man and you were the cure. You weren't sure how much of it he could feel, but the psychological effect was immediate and mind blowing.

He may be dead but he had never felt more alive than in that moment.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

Your relationship escalated quickly after that first kiss. You didn’t define it as anything, but it made you happier just knowing he was there by your side—and you could all him yours.

And you wasted no time in physically progressing your relationship—AKA you did not get much sleeping done.

It was a different kind of vulnerable, allowing yourself to give your soul and body to Charles, and him trusting you with himself.

Because of his being a ghost, it felt like so much more an emotional and psychological experience which only made you appreaciate it, and him, more.

By the looks of it, he enjoyed it as well—more than enjoyed it. He couldn’t stop smiling at you afterwards, while he laid on the bed beside you and gazed at you with half-dazed eyes.

Charles let himself curl around you, embracing you. You weren’t sure if ghosts could get tired, but nonetheless he whispered out a, “I’m knackered.”

You had nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You’re so British.”

He kissed your forehead softly, and you felt it more than you had ever felt him before. “And you’re so American.”

You only chuckled and let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms holding you close.

You never wanted to get out of bed or leave him, and he utilised that fact to his every advantage.

He did everything he could to keep you in bed with him, even though he probably didn’t sleep much, just wanting to hold you close.

It wasn’t fair how easy he made your heart melt.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

It didn’t take long for you to know that it wasn’t merely affection you felt for Charles, but something much deeper.

You didn’t want to presume Charles felt anything close to what you felt, though.

So you continued acting like whatever the two of you were—kissing and hooking up—not quite a couple but not quite friends with benefits, but something in between that went deep between you two.

Without any real definition for what you two were, it frightened you out of saying anything to him.

So you kept going with the featherlight kisses, the quiet giggles after one of you said a joke and were trying to cover it up as to not disturb the rest of the group, and the endless nights where you could be in his arms and have not a care in the world.

But it was on your mind, constantly.

Oh, how you just wished to say those three words to him, to just have it out in the open. So he could have you with the truth staring into his face and do with you what he pleased.

You wanted to splay yourself open for him, vulnerable and unafraid, show him yourself and let him love you back with the same ferocity with which you loved.

And finally, it became too much.

He was on his way out for one of the cases, one of which you chose not to go with them to. He had just collected all his belongings in that backpack of his and went in for a goodbye kiss.

“Be careful,” you whispered between parted lips, leaving the ghost of your words on his mouth. He smiled through it and pulled away.

“Always am,” came his cheeky reply, winking at you before turning to the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you called, and then, without thinking, “Love you.”

It took a mere moment for his brain to register your words before he halted and slowly turned in his step.

“What?”

Your own eyes widened in surprise of yourself and you were quick to come up with a way to play it off as a mistake or a stumble upon your words. But he crossed the distance between you with long strides, dropping his backpack and bringing his hands up to hold your cheeks tenderly.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, eyes shifting back and forth between yours trying to find the truth in your words. Your mouth fell agape, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him again, so close now so that you could feel his short breaths of air on your skin. “Please,” he said again, voice so soft you had to strain to hear him.

“I mean, it might be a little too much, too soon, and I don’t want to assume anything, but..” Your voice trailed off, breaking. Your lips fought to form the words that so desperately wanted to make their way out of you. “But I—I love you, Charles.”

He breathed out huge sigh of relief and captured your lips with his. “I love you too,” he whispered between breaths, barely audible.

Your smile could not be hindered as he kissed you back, fiercely and passionately. He kept pressing kisses on your mouth, on the corner of your lips, trailing to your cheeks, to your neck, down to your shoulders and your chest. All the while he kept repeating those same three words, “I love you,” over and over again, pressing them into your skin. Into your soul, essentially.

Your hands were grasped in his hair, fingers curling around his locks as you felt every touch of his lips that brought forth a shiver down your spine. Not from the coldness, though, but from the feeling of his soul connecting to yours.

He kept pressing featherlight kisses to you with small ‘I love you’s, and you couldn’t fight the laugh that escaped its way through you.

“Okay, stop it” you whispered, pulling his head away to grasp his face in your hands. You met his eyes with a smile and his beaming grin made your insides melt. “I love you so much, Charles.”

He laughed, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I love you too.”

“Now, come on, you got a case to solve.”

Charles let himself be lead away to the others, refusing to let go of your hand. He even pressed kisses to the back of it every chance he got, and you were roped into going to the case with the rest of them, if only not to leave Charles’ side.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @heartsfromcoco @scriblezz

#moonyswritinq #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detective spoilers #charles rowland #charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x gn reader #x reader #x male reader #x gn reader #dbd #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader #dead boy detectives x reader

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midniiights-garden · 4 months

Note

I love your hcs for modern au! mizu, could you possibly write some headcanons relating to her getting into a relationship?

(A/N: YIPPIEEEEE AN ASK!! Omg I think this would be interesting and there's a bunch of other HCs on this but imma put my own spin on it ^^)

Possible TWs!!: Mentions of sex, internalized homophobia, sexisim, racisim, grooming (??)

~~~

Ok so first of all yeah, I wanna flesh out her past relationship with Mikio in this AU. I think it would be important in shaping Mizu's view of her future S/O.

So, as I said in my last post she probably met Mikio when she was in University, he would probably be a teacher or something. Lowkey, considering the age gap, in this AU he would have probably either been some kind of forced relationship like in the canon or he groomed her in some way.

Either way, it made moder!Mizu really wary of kindness, now viewing everyone who is nice to her as a threat.

I'm also basing her trauma responses based on my own so I hope this isn't too OOC, I'm just tryna work off of what I know lol

So when you came into her life (probably introduced by Ringo because he's a cutie patootie ray of sunshine), she was more than skeptical.

It'd be rocky. You'd try to talk and she would only give short, curt answers. Much like canon Mizu.

It'd probably take a consistent half a year of talking to her for her to finally crack. Either that or you'd do something really nice for her like caring for her whilst she was sick or prepared something for her birthday or something of the likes. Either way, you'd have to really make an effort to befriend and win her over, it's more of a her problem then a you problem.

But once her initial coldness has melted away you find a pretty sincere, caring woman. She's only strict with you if she cares. If she doesn't I believe she's the kind of person who would probably just go "eh, whatever" if you did something stupid. But if she cares she'll be like "DO NOT DO THAT".

She'll realise she's in love probably while she's sick lol

Like, she'll see you helping her at her worst, holding her hair back whilst she throws up or something and be like "...oh my god".

Mizu wouldn't confess too soon after realising, she'd take her time to really think about it. Was she ready for a potential heartbreak? Was this worth it? You might find that she'll pull away a little as she thinks. It isn't intentional, but it will probably happen.

You'd probably have to confess first.

She'd secretly be elated but she wouldn't show it too much at first. Actually, she'd be hesitant to show positive emotions at all in the beginning. But as your relationship progresses she realises you aren't like Mikio. You aren't there because of some made up image of her. You're there because you love her. Not an idea of her, but herself, flaws and all.

She's gonna marry you lol.

(A/N: THAAAAT'S IT!!! Also im so sorry for taking so long with this. my gf left me and its my bday today so ive been like moping and playing sdv lmfaoooo. HAPPY NEW YEARS POOKIES <3)

#mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #i love women #wlw #i love fictional characters #mizu #mizu x reader #mizu come home the kids miss you #x reader #mizu x you #x gn y/n #gn reader #x fem!reader

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ferris-the-wheel · 2 months

Text

Posted 3/8/24

Fyodor Dostoevsky Relationship Headcanons

: ̗̀➛ Fyodor x gn!reader

A/N: This was pretty fun to make and I kinda wanna do this with more BSD characters. Who am I kidding- I'm totally doing this with other BSD characters.

: ̗̀➛ Not proofread, may be some mistakes.

TW: Semi-controlling behavior (but not super overbearing???)

⁂ Pretty much no one knows you exist, not even anyone in the Decay of Angels.

⁂ That's because he doesn't want to risk you getting taken hostage or killed by his enemies (which he has a lot of, obviously). He also doesn't trust the DOA members not to try to use you to get the upper hand against him.

⁂ You're one of his two weaknesses and he doesn't want anyone to exploit that fact.

⁂ One of his plans for preventing anyone from finding out about you is that he would buy a comfortable house for you to live in in a less populated area outside of the city, but you declined. You insisted that since no one even knew that you were connected to each other, you could live in the city.

⁂ He reluctantly agreed but made sure to install a bunch of security cameras to the place you were living at in the city, as well as teaching you how to use a variety of types of guns.

⁂ Whenever he's just sitting around (usually while his plans are unfolding and causing chaos), he'll just be eager to get back home to you. He would also plan out the whole evening in his head, knowing how it would go before it was even past noon.

⁂ While normally, the only side of himself that he let's people see is that he's soulless and doesn't care about anything. However, you know that this isn't exactly the case. While yes, he does act like that, he shows a different side, only around you.

⁂ He still has a certain coldness to him (personality wise as well as being ice cold to the touch lol), but he's nicer toward you than he is to anyone else. Of course, that's not to say that he's a complete angel. He's very protective of you if you couldn't tell so he tends to ask where you're going when you go out and may follow you to make sure that you're safe.

⁂ He can be a bit of a control freak, but that's kind of something that you have to put up with. For example, if he wants something from you, such as a kiss, he will do pretty much anything to get it (in cases where you don't want to or aren't in the mood). He would be a bit manipulative/deceptive with his methods, but nothing like downright abusive or anything. He tries to dial it down when something really bothers you, though.

⁂ He can be... just a bit jealous (let's be real, he can be pretty damn jealous). He doesn't see why you waste your attention on other less competent, boring people, but he doesn't force you not to hang out with anyone.

⁂ He does let you have friends and connections, he just warns you not to tell them about him. He does very extensive background checks on the people you hang out with, just to make sure they aren't governments agents or members of the Port Mafia. Yeah, no one knows that you and Fyodor are connected at all, but he's just covering all his bases.

⁂ If someone tries to hit on you or anything like that, good luck to them. Fyodor would probably find out immediately and either one of two scenarios would occur:

1. He would ask that you not hang out with said person anymore and would convince you to completely cut that person out of your life.

Or the more dramatic option.....

2. He would simply make that person disappear. It would just happen. Of course, he had nothing to do with their disappearance. Feel free to interpret that how you will.

⁂ Sometimes he'll offer to let you have his ushanka for a while since he likes seeing you wear it. In fact, it soon became a routine: when he came home, he'd take off his coat and hang it up, then he'd locate you and place the ushanka on your head. He didn't always give it up easily though. He'd sometimes demand something in return.

⁂ When Fyodor wants to relax, he'll lay his head down in your lap and have you mess around with his hair. It doesn't matter if you're just mussing it up or if you're just combing it, he loves the feeling of your fingers running through his hair.

BSD taglist: @edith-is-a-cat @twst-om-lover @l7k-a @lyle-my-beloved @xen-blank @cookiesandbiscuits @mermaidfanficlibrary

Reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♥︎

#fyodor dostoevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoevsky bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #gn!reader

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skylarsblue · 1 year

Note

this isn’t really a request or anythin’, just a thought. 141 havin to deal with a southern team member who only gets progressively more accented the more they get mad.

100% projecting here

pretty unaccented, American, whatever —> ✨ anger ✨ —> Memphis called they want their “oo-ol” back (translation: oil).

i have no idea if they’d be annoyed, charmed, or just confused.

✦141 + Los Vaqueros With A Southern!Teammate✦

(My first C.o.D request and it's for pEOPLE LIKE MEEEE, southern traassh! This my shit. Fair warning, I've never played one of these games cause I don't have a console, so if they're ooc, please tell me how I can improve writing them!)

✦Random headcanons, Southern slang, GN!Reader, Race neutral as well but American, implied to be Oklahoma/Texas style southern, aggressive cursing because I have the mouth of a sailor, a bit of Google Translated Spanish(forgive me), Rudy doesn't have a color cause I ran out I'm so sorry precious boy✦

✧Simon Riley✧

He's not real fond of Americans, admittedly. He's got a little voice in the back of his head that automatically associates Americans with betrayal, but he'll keep quiet.

He cringes at your accent at first. He's not fond of Americans, even less so of most American accents. It's a very thick drawl and after being in the team for a while, he'll tease you about it, telling you to "Speak English" like he does with Soap.

He shuts up when you bring up his Manchester accent being illegible sometimes. It's all in good fun though!

After proving you're trustworthy, he'll basically call you his "special American", to show you're an exception. He will never stop poking fun at you though, just as you do to him. Particularly when you say something intensely American.

"Look at her ass, out here pitchin' a bitch fit with a tail on it." "...What in the hell is that even supposed to mean?"

He'll give you one thing, you treat beef well, which he appreciates. Given he used to be a butcher's apprentice. Americans from the southern states know how to make a hamburger and we know how to cook a steak, that's like...the one thing we can brag about.

If you're like me and you dunk on your own country, he thinks those moments are really funny. Especially when you sound so American.

He probably enjoys you being angry the most. He loves it so much, he thinks it's extremely entertaining. Especially if you're a more small, non-intimidating person on the surface.

"Fuck off! Out here makin' a damn mess of the place, runnin' around like a chicken with its head cut off, wrecking my shit! I outta whoop yer ass!" "Should we step in?" "No no, let it go on a little longer..."

Probably tries to make your call sign something heavily American stereotypical, in a funny way. (ie. Bald Eagle, Stars(JILL!), Shotgun, etc.)

A bit hypocritical but if you have a farm with cows on it, he doesn't really wanna see them. His first thought his how to butcher them from years of training, and if they're not butcher cows, he feels kinda bad for thinking it.

Congrats! You're the only American Simon likes, aside from maybe Alex but I don't know for sure.

✧Johnny MacTavish✧

Laughs when you first speak. He apologizes but like, he laughs at you, I'm sorry.

Definitely asks if you have a cowboy hat, and he will lose his fucking mind if you do. The more cowboy shit you own the more he's entertained, especially if you wear them around base/on field.

He understands you super well but no one understands how or why. Johnny explains that it's just because he's good with accents. He'll hear weird euphemisms and, though it may take a second, 9 times out of 10 he'll get it.

"Fucker's so cheap I bet he pinches quarters til they scream." "What?! What does that mean!?" "Means he's a penny pincher! He's cheap. C'mon, that one was obvious, keep up, yeah?"

If you're a woman/female leaning, he'll call you cowgirl. If you're male/male leaning, you get the nickname cowboy. Non-binary/Genderfluid/Etc.? He calls you partner, and he'll always say it with a shitty imitation of your accent.

Asks you a buncha questions about American-Southern stereotypes to see if they're true. If they are, he gets really giggly about it.

If they ever have a mission in America, he'll insist you lead them everywhere. He likes seeing how you interact with people, especially if you're in a big city where some nutsos are. This man would have a blast watching you in a Waffle House. It's the only time he likes seeing you yell in public, thinks it's hilarious.

If you have any farm experience he's gotta see it. He needs to. I don't care if the farm is your great grandpa's and you haven't been there in a decade, you better take him to see the cows and tractors right now, immediately. Especially if there are chickens. He loves chickens.

He makes fun of your accent but he thinks it's really hot sometimes and he's very annoyed at himself for it. Particularly when you speak softly, trying to console/comfort him, slipping in a typical southern pet name.

"You alright there, sugar? Took quite a hit there. You need anythin', sweetheart?" "...I uh, uhm, ahem. N-no, no I'm alright." "Are ya sure, sweetpea? Your face is goin' redder than a tomato."" NO, I'M GOOD."

Manages to get the entire team to call you a southern callsign, whether you like it or not. He'll force it to stick. Most are animal-based too. (Cowboy/Cowgirl, Chick/Rooster, Bull/Heffer, Big Tex, etc.)

Your accent grows on him significantly. While he thinks you're very sexy when you're angry, he's really affected when you're soft and sweet. (bonus note; if you're faux sweet when you're mad? The whole "Oh...bless your heart" type thing? He's prolly gonna pop a boner, not gonna lie.)

✧John Price✧

He's not American but there are a lot of American things he likes, admittedly. Specifically, old western stuff, horses, ranches, etc. That whole aesthetic is something he's always enjoyed. He won't say it, but he has a particular fondness for your accent when he first hears it.

Doesn't understand you when your accent gets super thick but he thinks it's entertaining nevertheless. Unlike Ghost or Soap, he doesn't comment on it, because he doesn't think he has room to talk. Maybe he'd do it once and then you'd throw it back at him and he'd realize that...yeah he has no room to talk.

He's a calm individual but he will yell when necessary. But, what he finds admirable is when you jump in and yell for him. Like you can read his mind and he can save his throat, watching the people who were pissing him off jump back at thick southern curses being yelled at them.

"I outta jerk a damn knot in your fuckin' tail, ya fuckin' dumbass! Didn't ya momma ever teach you respect?! You ain't ever gonna talk to my damn captain like that again or I'll skin yer fuckin' hide!" "Ahem, thank you, sergeant, that's enough."

Buys you a cowboy hat if you don't already have one, for sure. Whether you take it as a genuine gift or you take it as a light jab at your roots, he'll get a lil' dopey smile if you decide to wear it. Gaz definitely makes fun of you two. Soap points out that Gaz also wears a hat religiously and he & Ghost start callin' you the hat trio.

Man melts at southern-drawl-spoken pet names. He truly does. Much like Soap, there's something about it that makes the tension leaves his body, though he's not really sure why.

"You alright there, Cap? You're lookin' bout ready to drop..." "I'm alright soldier, just need to finish this." "Captain, it'll be there in the mornin'. How bout a nap instead, huh? You can't go workin' yourself to the bone, hun. It ain't healthy."" ...oh alright, just for a bit though." "Sure, sugarcube, just long enough to have some tea."

He'll probably pick up on a few pet names and call you them. Whether you wanna take it as platonic or not, it's really just a sweet gesture that he wants to return. Pet names are kinda just...a staple of southern slang. It's part of the accent that he really enjoys, therefore he wants to return it.

If he ends up helping you with a call sign, it's going to be a really sweet & nice one. Or perhaps something that's from an old western he's seen. Probably based on something you've said before. (Sugarcube, Lasso, Hun/Hunny.) Bonus points if you get a super sweet name that doesn't match your stature, he thinks it's funny if it throws people off.

Piggybacking off the last one, I think it'd be real funny if your call name was "Sugarcube" and you're like...a 6'0"+ buff dude with a deep voice. That shit would be funny. Anyway!

If you own/live on a ranch or farm in your off time, he'll feel honored if you invite him to see it. Don't worry, he won't laze around and just appreciate the cute animals. (Looking at you Soap) He's got a little bit of experience with cows & horses, so he'll do his best to help you move the hay and such. Don't let him drive a tractor though, it's one of the few things he just can't do.

John doesn't play favorites, he's fair and precise to his entire team. But...off the field? ...you might get a little favoritism, he's got a weakness for bein' sweettalked through southern drawl. Don't let that go to your head though!

✧Kyle Garrick✧

Kyle doesn't care too much, he thinks every country has shitty stuff and cool stuff. He's a pretty big believer in silver linings. While America is far from his favorite country, and he knows the common trope of uh...less than tolerant people from the south, that doesn't affect how he sees you at all.

He does snicker at your accent sometimes, but only when you say something really aggressively southern. Especially making up random southern phrases that he doesn't understand at all. He finds it endearing.

"We just gotta haul ass and go tear shit up, run through like a buncha Tasmanian devils, right?" "...I understood...some of those words. Uh, sure, right." "We need to move our asses and fuck shit up." "Ah, okay. Could've just said that, but alright."

Thinks you're kinda scary when you're mad. He'll be the type to try and calm you down, but he understands if it's someone who deserves it. Not that he doesn't find your drawl fun to listen too, especially if someone was being an ass, but he doesn't like seeing you upset.

If the person you're yelling at was being a real big ass, he'll let you yell for a little, but step in. However, if you're doing condescending rage? Oh, go for it, do it all you want. He thinks it's hilarious.

Finds it particularly sweet if you're angry on the teams/his behalf. He can fight his own battles but he thinks it's a big sign of trust, friendship, etc. that you feel the need to defend him.

"Bless your heart, your brain ain't firing off on all cylinders is it, hun? Tsk, that's a shame..." "Excuse me?!" "You're excused, sweetpea. You're not gonna talk to my team that way, but you can turn your happy ass around and walk away. I ain't gonna have you disrespectin' the people who've been fightin' the good fight. Have a lovely day!" "How can you sound so sweet and yet so angry at the same time?" "Southern livin', sugar. Southern livin'."

Gaz is a bit of a foodie type, he likes trying cooking from any area he can go to. Southern cooking would...it'd be a new weakness for sure. A lot of it is unhealthy, yes, but he doesn't give a shit. It tastes good. Sometimes he thinks American food is an absolute sin and a disgrace, and he'll state it as such. Usually, it's stuff you agree on. Like bacon-covered donuts or fried butter. That shit's egregious. But things like southern-style chicken or rib-eye on a grill? You're gonna make him swoon with them roasted vegetables. Cooking for him is a surefire way to make you an unapologetic favorite in his book.

He won't say anything at the little jokes that people jab at you for your accent, but he will tell someone off if they say something that's clearly not funny and upsets you. Like trying to imply you're stupid because you come from Texas. (Speaking from personal experience) He thinks it's such a dumb thing to give someone shit over and he won't hesitate to say they're an idiot for trying to use it against you.

Hates sweet tea, I'm sorry. It's just tea but he can't stand it. He'll drink the unsweetened tea you make, but he'll make a dramatic face if he mixes them up. Something that you always laugh at.

He's great at driving basically any vehicle. Helicopters to mini coopers. He's never controlled a tractor before, but if you sit him in one and tell him the levers, it'll take him like...three minutes to get it down perfectly. Definitely gets a smug ass grin if you show you're amazed.

If he helps get you your call sign, he won't necessarily make it based on where you're from, it'll probably be based on a nickname, skill, or crucial event in your career. (Crash; you were thrown through a window, Hotshot; skill for sniping, etc.) But if he were to have one based on your southern ways? Sweet Tea, both for the fact you make it and the pet name you sometimes call him. (sweet pea)

✧Alejandro Vargas✧

Like Ghost, he's not super fond of Americans. His experience with most Americans are annoying tourists and Graves, leaves a pretty bad impression. He comes across unintentionally snappy when he first meets you, but Rudy will point it out, and he'll correct himself.

You aren't the annoying people he's dealt with and he knows it's not fair to say you are. Definitely talks shit on America though, and he'll honestly give you respect if you do the same. Since he's used to the kind of Americans that think being American give them a right to treat others like shit. He hates entitlement.

If you speak Spanish, he's gonna try really hard to not laugh at how your accent affects some words, but it's really hard. He means it in kind and if you're still learning when you meet him, he's proud when he hears you doing well in comprehension and sentences. Still, sounds just a lil silly.

He loves when your accent gets thick from rage, but he his favorite thing is if you speak Spanish in a rage, with your accent on top of it. It's a combination that fills his brain with serotonin.

"Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" "Wha- Haha! What does that mean?!" "Did they say some super weird analogy?" "Si! They did!" "Yeaaah, they do that a lot."

He's notorious for having a naturally flirty personality, it's just how he's always been. Hence why not much phases him, but he does get a quite wide & genuine grin if you flirt back, making your accent extra intense. Especially with the pet names, another man who likes sweet words.

Thinks you having a southern call sign is really cute, especially if it's something your team calls you exclusively. He thinks it shows your endearment to your team. However, if your call sign is something you insist is only for friends, he'll get super giddy about being allowed to call you it.

If he were to pick? (Belle; Like southern belle whether you're fem! or not, Rodeo, and he might call you Americano- but like, in the coffee way. Like it's a sweet nickname, not just him saying your nationality)

Southern hospitality is something he is not used to. Again, bad experience with Americans. So if you explain all the various manners and nice gestures that are considered expected in your home state? He's completely confused, wondering why the Americans he's met don't keep that attitude up when they leave home.

Again, really likes it if you use southern pet names. Especially if you're trying to console him after a really tough day/mission. For some reason it really helps, like a cup of warm coffee on a cold morning.

"Aye, don't stress yourself over it, darlin'. Bad things happen that we can't control, you did everything you could and you were great at it. Don't let it eat at'cha, honey-bun." "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" "Anytime, big guy. Now, you wanna see me try and fail again to open a de la Rosa without breaking it?" "Aha! How about I show you a trick to do it instead?"

Again, like Ghost, you're his special American. Gaz calls you his emotional-support American once and he thinks it's really funny, he'll call you as such every now and then.

✧Rodolfo Parra✧

Sweet darling man. He has nothing against you being American, nothing. But...he cannot understand anything you're saying. He's doing his best but he really doesn't know. He can feel his brain frying every time you bring up something super southern, trying to understand.

He'll have to lean over to your team to ask for a translation, anyone but Soap & Price will tack on an "I think, I'm not sure" at the end of their explanation. If he hears you use a phrase more than once, he'll add it to a little list of notes with the translation underneath it. Treats it like a whole different language. It's adorable.

Like Alejandro, he thinks it's funny if you speak Spanish with your accent. He'll keep a straight face because he knows you can't help it, but man is it fun to hear.

He's not very fond of a lot of yelling if he can avoid it, Rudy prefers disputes to be handled with calm words if possible. But he understands that sometimes it's necessary. Still, he'd want to try and calm you down if you're yelling. But, if you're just acting sickeningly-sweet, kind words that are clearly dripping with venom? He'll just watch. He thinks that shows you handle yourself very well and it's pretty attractive to him, not gonna lie.

"Awww I'm so sorry you're upset, poor thing. God bless you, sir, you have a lovely day. I hope that stick up your ass doesn't hurt too bad." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" "Shh, sugar, it's fine. He wants to be rude, I can be rude back. An eye for an eye. Don't worry your pretty lil' head bout it, sweetheart." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas."

He's really hesitant about American food. It smells great sometimes but all he hears about American food is that it's greasy, or too salty, etc. Still, he won't deny any meal you make. He thinks it's rude to deny food unless it's something you're allergic to.

He ends up liking a few things, but he is biased to his home cooking. But if you start making his favorite foods, or somehow combine the styles in an honoring way? Oh, those are his favorites. He's particularly fond of American sweets though!

Please bake for this man, bake for him, I beg. Apple pie is an American staple for a reason and he'll jokingly claim he'll move to America if it means he can have apple pie every day.

"Rudy, that's your fourth piece! Ahaha, if I knew you liked it so much I woulda made ya more." "Ay, please do! ¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" "Alright then, hun, I'll be sure to make you all the apple pie ya want."

Rudy really likes if you wear stuff like a cowboy hat. He's not really sure why, he just thinks it's really cute. If it's a staple of your whole look(like John's hat), seeing you protective over it, he thinks that's really cute. If you're protective of your cowboy hat but let him hold it/put it on his head to hold it, it's gonna fluster him. Even if your guy's relationship is completely platonic.

If you live near the border of Texas & Mexico, it makes visiting you pretty easy, so he'll have no qualms about going back and forth when off duty. He'll be more comfortable in his home but he won't turn down the offer to see your home, especially if it's a ranch. He's got a soft spot for farm animals. (Particularly goats)

If he has any control of how you choose your call sign, he'll likely pick something the same way Gaz does. But, if you have a thing about what certain people call you - like how only Ghost can call Soap "Johnny" - He feels really warm and fuzzy if he gets a special privilege.

(Translations; "Eres un maldito idiota. ¡Tan útil como las tetas de un toro!" - "You're a fucking idiot - as useful as a bull's tits/about as useful as tits on a bull!" "Gracias, Bella. Lo necesitaba…" - "Thank you, bella/beauty. I needed it." "¡Soldado! No digas eso…" - "Soldier! You can't say that..." "Dios, a veces me asombras y me aterrorizas." - "God, sometimes you amaze and terrify me." "¡Fue enviado desde el cielo!" - "It was sent from heaven!")

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