#but the og is still up on my ao3 so
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the merman is back.
it’s a little weird how used to him you’ve gotten. he’d only shown up for the first time a few months ago, but when you’re largely alone out on the boat or in your oceanfront lab there’s no shortage of ways for him to visit with nobody around.
he’s yet to tell you a name, but after the first few weeks of silence he suddenly revealed a passable understanding of english; when he speaks it's rudimentary, but he clearly understands everything you say, even if he doesn’t listen half the time.
you haven’t gotten the nerve to get in the water with him. in fact, you haven’t gotten in the water at all since he arrived, even when your colleagues are around and he’s notably not. he’s massive, his tail alone being well over two meters long and possessing the torso of a man who would tower over you on dry land (a handsome man, you're begrudged to admit, with those broad shoulders and blood red eyes and that ash blond hair that somehow looks good immediately coming out of the water). he’s assured you in his blunt, curt way that of course he doesn’t want to eat you but you still have anxieties about getting out into the open water you’ve always loved and being pulled under by a fucking sea monster.
he’s getting bolder, though. when you take the boat out today, he follows it, like the dolphins used to back when you operated out of the keys; that sleek black body would be terrifying just from the size, like seeing a fully grown orca bump up against the hull.
and when you weigh anchor, almost immediately, the boat keels aftward when he pulls himself onto the deck.
you shriek and he immediately pins you with a steely glare. he’s never done that before. it’s fucking terrifying, though he’s not managed to drag his whole body up and you’re a little comforted by that. it’s just his arms—two massive, heavily muscled things that are flexed and crossed in front of him, holding his head, shoulders, and much of his human-like torso up out of the water with ease. that enormous tail trails behind him and it’s still terrifying to see, your heart skipping a beat every time the shimmering orange markings catch your eye.
you don’t know what you’ll do if he decides to come all the way onto the boat. he wouldn’t be able to maneuver that well, but where the fuck would you go? into the damn water?
“fucking christ!” you yelp. “don’t just do that, motherfucker!”
“calm,” he snaps as he rolls his eyes.
the urge to flip him the bird is overshadowed by the knowledge that he wouldn’t understand, and you’re too frazzled to explain what go fuck yourself means. instead, you turn back around to clean up the cabin that he’s managed to mess up.
“oi, human, come.”
you huff, shouting your name at him and pointedly refusing to turn away from your task. he’s clearly annoyed at that, and you belatedly realize that perhaps if you’re really that terrified of him coming onto the boat you shouldn’t provoke him. luckily, rather than heaving himself up, he jerks the entire hull.
it’s a smooth motion for him, gripping the stern and rolling his tail so that the boat moves with him. it’s like being out in a storm, and though you’re well aware that it’s just your needy visitor, your sea-hardened stomach still lurches at the familiar feeling.
you stumble out of the cabin, careful not to be thrown over the edge. “i’m out! holy shit, i have a damn job you know, i can’t spend all my time catering to your whims.”
he stops as soon as you get back on deck. “calm,” he tells you again, and you're really starting to hate the word, “too loud.”
“who’s fucking fault is that? don’t rock my damn ship.”
“sit,” he demands rather than apologizing.
there are a plethora of reasons not to. you won’t be able to get away quickly if you need to, you shouldn’t be encouraging his demands by obliging immediately, you really do have a job to do instead of… whatever this is—instead of listening to any one of those reasons, you ease yourself down with your legs crossed a little ways away from where he’s holding himself.
he snarls, baring a mouthful of sharp teeth. “closer.”
“no,” you snap. “not if you’re threatening me.”
his mouth shuts immediately, brow furrowed and lips pouting in an expression that’s less pleading or apologetic and more contemplative.
“not a threat,” he seems to settle on saying.
you roll your own eyes. “yeah. okay.”
“come here.”
“why?”
“wanna feel you.”
that throws you for a loop. what could he mean by that? you realize that perhaps he’s as fascinated by you as you are by him.
you’ve caught him staring at your body in the past. he’s never reacted like you’d expect—if you’d caught a human looking at you like that and then turning away when you caught his eye, he’d have been checking you out. but when it’s an apex predator of a different species, there’s an entirely different context, one you’re even less enthused about.
you’re standing before you’ve fully thought it through, fully freaked and ready for him to go. you barely get to uncross your legs, however, before he lunges.
it’s far faster than your not-normally-hunted-because-you’re-a-modern-person mind can follow. a cold, clawed hand snaps out to latch around your ankle and yanks you downward, slamming your back into the boat’s coarse deck and then dragging you towards the edge. there’s not even time for you to shriek.
this is it, you think. he’s going to eat you now; he’ll drag you under and rip you apart, or maybe he’ll drown you first as a mercy. you hope he doesn’t want to play with you further, drag you into the water and let go to make you swim because he wants a chase.
the moment your ankle hits the water he stops.
you’re breathing heavily, free leg still braced on the deck, arms finding purchase on a pole nearby. his whole body is underwater aside from his eyes and the very top of his head, but you can still see that massive dark shadow—only little flashes of that pretty orange-gold patterning visible as his scales glint beneath the sun—and it sends a thrill through you. he’s so ungodly enormous.
that hand is still around your ankle, but it’s looser now. his mouth is beneath the waves so he doesn’t speak, but his eyes are soft and almost regretful as he regards you.
“okay…” you move slowly, getting to a better position. it pulls your captive ankle from the water and the movement causes his grip to tighten as if he’s reluctant to remove it—he doesn’t stop you, but he doesn’t let you go. you’re forced to sit on the edge of the deck with your feet dangling over the side.
“let me feel you,” he tries again, as if he’s giving you a choice.
“ask,” you decide upon demanding. his words have made you realize, with a burst of shame and a promise to never tell anyone in the future, that you’re not entirely opposed to the strange rude merman feeling you.
you’re gifted a growl, not unlike the snarl from before but lacking the teeth. he’s learning, you realize, not only in not baring those terrifying weapons at you but also in removing his hand from your ankle.
“can i… touch you,” he spits out, like the words and your request are insulting.
and again you think there are far too many reasons to give in just like that. you’ve been around enough children to know that rewarding problematic behavior is hardly the way forward, but there’s a certain part of your brain that’s in control right now and it’s not particularly interested in breaking him of his demanding attitude (quite the contrary, to your chagrin, this very annoying part of your brain is enjoying it).
“are you sure you’re not going to eat me?”
“no eating.” he huffs, wrinkling his nose.
“what, i smell bad or something.”
he regards you, approaching a little closer, and you resist the urge to pull your legs up to hold your knees to your chest.
“smell good,” he says, “not like food.”
all right.
“fine, then. if you’re not going to take a bite out of my calf, then… sure. feel me, i guess.”
he’s just as fast as before, not even waiting for you to finish your sentence before he’s lashing out and grabbing your leg again. this time, he’s not looking at your face; he’s focused entirely on your feet, those big hands inspecting them thoroughly.
it’s rough, and you’re a little glad because if he’d been gentle it would have likely been too ticklish. he’s still careful with his massive claws; you’re sure they’re sharp enough to pierce your skin with ease, and he’s clearly skilled enough to avoid it. you’re more than thankful, because you’ve seen how he hunts with them (he’s dropped disemboweled fish in front of you before as strange gifts) and you don’t want your legs to end up like his prey even if he doesn’t eat you.
he moves on from your feet, both hands latching onto one calf and almost massaging it in reverence. his face is even closer now; you really ought to be more worried by the proximity of those teeth to your skin, but the fascination on his face is so enthralling.
by the time he reaches the back of your knee, you're tensing. while before he’d been mostly in the water, he’s very nearly at your height now, holding himself up by his grip on you and an awkward hold on the deck with his spare hand.
and then he’s at your thigh, and your breath is heavy.
because he’s basically laid out on your lap, one arm wrapped entirely around your upper leg such that his large palm rests flush, fingers spread, against the plush flesh of your inner thigh. and he’s no less fascinated, expression no less sincere, as he pulls further up to get closer.
“warm,” he says, more to himself than you. he blinks, as if shaking away a daze, and his eyes jump up from your thighs to look at your stomach. “soft…”
his head drops. you jump, caught up in the strange haze he's brought with him but snapping out of it as he lays his head on your lap. your heart thumps erratically, your breath long bated. he’s not looking at your thigh anymore, and not your face either—he’s locked on your stomach, your loose t-shirt having ridden up slightly to reveal more bare skin.
you ought to see it coming, really, but when that big, cold hand moves from your thigh to your torso, sliding smoothly beneath your shirt and running up your bare stomach, you yelp and jolt back.
he startles, and then he’s gone, slipping back off you and disappearing down into the murky water. you’re left panting, with nothing but a very wet body and the ghost of his touch on your legs…
and the heat of your face at the knowledge that, while you’d been surprised, you kind of wanted him to go further.
#bnha x reader#bakugo x reader#mine.🌧#char.🌧 bakugou#that one beach episode#just a lil merbaku 👉👈#for the soul#w a spitfire reader bc im me JHSBDF#this is reposted!!! i wrote it like two yrs ago for jotato kujo lmfaoooooo but rewrote it for bakugo who tbh i think it works for even bett#but the og is still up on my ao3 so
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michael mell gets bullied by an evil supercomputer.png
this is not a michael gets squipped au btw lol i just wanted to draw smth silly. anyways i love this guy forreel <3
cropped ver.
#be more chill#bmc#bmc fanart#michael mell#bmc michael#hellooooo bmc fandom#(my voice echoes distantly along an empty hallway)#yeah idk be more chill pops up in my head every year or so and i go mentally ill#this time specifically i randomly thought of that sick as fuck bakunawa au#like dawg that one og fic was my first ever favorite fic on ao3#(bmc is the first fandom i even looked up on ao3 too)#soooo yeah i reread it and its one of the few things in this world that nostalgia didnt rose tint#its still banger i still love that fic to itty bitty bits#anyways uh rant over. bmc will never let me leave. help.
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Wait, I'm confused... do you like the Fence novels or no? Because your first review sounded positive and happy with the fun humor, and then every other thing I've seen from you about them is most pointing out the (very prominent, very not-good) flaws with them.
fair question! I had a Journey with the Fence novels and it was hellish. First, please keep in mind that I am unhealthily fixated on Fence and that does impact things all along the way.
When Striking Distance was announced, I was as excited as anyone, though wary because Pacat was handing it off to someone else to write. Still, I was hopeful--and more hopeful after reading In Other Lands because, despite the disturbing sexism that squicked me tf out, I really enjoyed that book! And so I was very eager to get my hands on Striking Distance. So I went on an absolute quest to get an ARC...and I did! It took a lot of dead ends and desperate tries, but remember that I'm insane. So I got my hands on an advanced copy by emailing the editor assigned to the book (who has since left the position). And as is custom with ARCs, he asked me to send my review when it went live.
Reading Striking Distance was such an experience dude. I wanted to love it as much as I loved the comics--remember that at this point, we only had up to issue 12 and the characterization therein. I love the OG 12 issues, and they'll always hold more sway in my understanding of the characters, but when reading SD, it was very clear that I'd read the entire comic completely fucking wrong. Remember my unhealthy obsession? Yeah. Trying to come to terms with Fence being something so opposite of everything I really loved about it and the fact that my reading of it was so wrong was really hard--like mental breakdowns level of hard. I wish I was joking. But I tried to force myself to love the reality of Fence anyway, despite kind of hating the novel, which I absolutely would not admit to myself because disliking any part of Fence felt like SUCH a betrayal to it, and I really really really didn't want to hate the characters I'd spent so much time bringing to life in my mind, because selfishly I didn't want to have to divorce my idea of the characters from canon, I just wanted to be able to love the canon characters and add onto them a little the way I'd been able to with the comics up until that point. So especially right after reading Striking Distance, I was insistent on liking it, and even as I slowly started to acknowledge that there were parts of it that made me want to scratch off my skin they made me so uncomfortable (see: the steak scene), I was really hell-bent on understating my dislike/criticism of it.
So when I went to write my review for Striking Distance to send to the really nice editor who sent me the ARC, I didn't want to betray Fence, I hadn't really processed my issues with it (and was--and honestly still am to an extent--worried that I was just being an entitled baby because my stupid fanfictions/interpretations were so fucking wrong), I didn't want to upset or hurt the feelings of the man who did me this HUGE favor, and because I wanted a chance to get an early copy of a possible sequel (because hating the novels didn't lesson my Need for early access to them. i know I'm unwell about fence jdhfa), I pulled out all the nicest thoughts I had about Striking Distance, exaggerated them and stretched them and sugar-coated everything else to provide a review that was nice and non-hostile.
Obviously, the longer I sat with Striking Distance and processed some things about it and about me, the more I started picking apart all the aspects that I hated and found I was able to produce reasons for each piece I disliked and was also able to pinpoint in the OG comics where I got all the pieces of the stories and characters I loved. So I did have to divorce my idea of Fence from canon if I wanted to keep loving Fence. And when I decided to keep loving Fence for all the reasons I used to instead of feel sick looking at/thinking about the franchise and characters, I was sort of free of the things holding me back from speaking about the things I didn't like, and so I started to analyze and essay and post about the novels and my untangled, truthful thoughts about them.
So I don't like the novels--there are maybe 3-4 things total that passed the vibe-check for me in both novels. I never liked the novels, and I lied about liking Striking Distance...but I was lying to myself about that one as much as anyone. And I haven't changed that review because, at the time, that was where my feelings were about it. So up it stays.
Here’s my fun little list of some of the places I've explained my dislike of the novels if you're curious, but yeah these are the real thoughts, the SD review was a carefully crafted lie <3
My full review of Disarmed
Autism representation in Seiji
Seiji in general
Eugene
Eugesse as a concept in Disarmed
Eugesse interactions in Disarmed
Nick's bisexuality
Coach Williams and sexual harassment
#jackshit#jacksalt#thanks for the ask!💜#my reaction to and the impact on my mental health from SD was in fact so deranged and unhealthy that it's a huge factor#of what pushed me to pursue professional help and diagnosis to understand and cope with my emotions#it did not take long for them to clock the autism and bipolar#anyway i did get on mood stabilizers and have an explanation for why I'm like this#unfortunately it does not make me any LESS like this#and so i am feral about fence and it is not always in a good and healthy way <3#i am aware my negativity about the novels is upsetting to people but genuinely if i DONT hate the novels#i have to hate Fence itself#and fence is one of the reasons I'm still chugging along so i cant afford to lose it XD#fence novels#disarmed negative#fun fact this is the first time i took a break from fence to write an OG novel instead with an idea id planned for a fic#because if the characters in my head arent actually fence characters then i might as well write original fiction for my ocs#and that was good because it gave me the distance i needed (which is funny because by distance i mean that i was writing my novel side#by side with promised things lmfao) AND also proved to me that i love writing for fence too much to leave it and i hated the novel too much#to accept it as canon#so i packed up my ocs back into my little kerchief on my little stick and marched back over to ao3 and kept writing about them#as if they're fence characters#so to the people still with me at this point know that i love you and your readership means everything to me <3#fence comic
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Rigor Mortis (part 4)
College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader
(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,
Part 3, Part 5
summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.
warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI
a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!
Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
Join my taglists here
wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
lips black and blue and gold.
You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.
First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.
And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–
"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.
"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.
You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–
"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"
"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.
" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.
"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.
When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.
You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–
You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.
You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…
…the woman. She looks like you.
Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.
"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.
He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.
"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"
"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"
He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.
"...Should be okay now."
You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.
And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.
He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.
He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.
Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.
And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.
It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?
As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.
You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.
But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.
"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.
You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.
"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"
There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.
With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.
You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.
Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.
~~~
"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.
His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.
"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"
"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.
"...what does that even mean?"
"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."
"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"
You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."
"Seriously?"
"...no, not really."
You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.
He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.
"Lyla? Could you let us up?"
He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.
"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.
"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"
She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.
"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"
"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"
[Let it go, that's enough now–]
"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"
"Can you just fucking open the–"
"What's the magic word?"
He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"
"Magic. Word."
He mumbles. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Please could you open the fucking door."
There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.
In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.
"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.
"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."
"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.
"...I told you I have friends."
~~~
You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.
Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.
"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.
You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.
"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."
"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.
"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"
"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.
"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."
It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.
She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.
"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."
She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.
"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"
He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.
"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"
"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"
"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.
"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."
Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.
"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."
Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.
"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.
"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.
"I don't sound- "
"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."
Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "
[you're a dipshit, Parker]
The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.
"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."
May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.
He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.
"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."
"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"
Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"
"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"
"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.
"Um, we should… we should go."
You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.
"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"
Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."
The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."
"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."
"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."
"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."
"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.
"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."
His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.
"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "
"That's not–"
"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.
His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.
"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.
"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"
You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.
"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."
Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.
Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?
The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.
Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.
There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.
All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.
~~~
There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.
You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.
He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.
You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.
Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.
Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.
There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.
"Miguel?"
He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.
"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"
You squint. "No. Not really."
He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?
"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"
Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.
"Are you even listening to me?"
He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.
"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "
Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.
"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."
With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.
"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.
There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.
"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "
It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.
You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.
He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.
"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.
"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.
"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."
"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.
Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.
You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."
"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.
You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–
"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.
You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .
"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"
"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."
"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."
He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.
"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."
You scoff. "How would you know?"
"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?
You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.
"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.
He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.
"You look like a painting."
You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.
Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –
He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.
"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.
"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.
"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."
"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…
…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.
"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.
A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.
"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.
"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.
You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.
Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.
Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.
"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.
"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.
Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.
"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.
"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.
"A-Ahi, ahi–"
[t-there, there–]
Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.
"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"
[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]
The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.
You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.
Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.
" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"
You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .
"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.
Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.
"And you've got that 9am."
You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,
" ...and I've got that 9am ."
He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.
"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.
_
_
_
Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns
@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical
#miguel o'hara x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara#miguel o hara x reader#kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara smut#spiderman 2099 x reader#atsv x reader#atsv fic
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age regression!reader with the harbingers
a/n: this was for a request on ao3 but I post all of my works on both platforms (still updating the ao3 one)
THIS ISN'T A SEXUAL THING!! IF YOU MAKE IT ONE I WILL BLOCK YOU!!
Pierro
Usually seems stoic and uncaring but you know him better than most people being his little. Pierro was very understanding and a tad confused until you explained it, wanting to help in any way possible and buying anything you wanted (and more if he thought you’d like it).
Best storyteller as he’s seen so much as both the royal mage of Khaenri’ah and the director of the harbingers; so whenever you want a story and he’s free from work all you have to do is ask. He makes sure you have proper health and won’t budge if you want sweets but you haven’t eaten a meal yet. A strict but very kind and caring caregiver.
If probably one of the most protective caregivers of all. of the harbingers given that he’s got a big target on his back for a variety of reasons (being Khaenri’an, top harbinger, war crimes, etc.). He never leaves you alone if he has to leave which is almost never since he’s rarely sent on missions and is the one the harbingers report back to, keeping you in a side room off of his office within view of both of you and checking on your from time to time between meal breaks.
Pierro loves how small you are in his arms and how your eyes are full of innocence when you are little, if he could keep you with him he would. He has tons of blankets to keep you warm from the cold that seeps in from the harsh weather and makes large fires in the evenings as he does paperwork while you play on the carpet with your crayons and plushies.
Il Capitano
Now as much as he seems tough and cold, behind closed doors you know he’s ironically one of the softest people you’ve met and has said that he’d kill for you if anyone threatened to hurt you in either state (little or big). Capitano keeps you as much of a secret as he can in fear of something happening to you and also away from Childe because, from his point of view, he’s a fighting-crazed maniac and doesn’t want little you to be corrupted.
You are one of the only people to see his face and it’s gorgeous including all the scars and burn marks, cupping your hands on his cheeks and giggling as the soft smile he wears just for you. He has a small team of soldiers that watch you whenever he has to leave and they secretly adore you, gentle expressions watch over you as you play with the toys that Capitano gave you and snack on local fruits while an abyss mage blanket is wrapped around you.
He adores your sleeping face or when you’re yawning after a long day and settling down for a nap, Capitano’s very glad his head covering hides his face because he’s smiling so wide and looking so soft. He has a hidden talent for getting you to sleep in seconds and all it takes for it to happen is to whisper comforting comments into your ear while rocking you.
This man’s voice is shockingly deep and wouldn’t tell anyone but can sing fairly well however he only knows basic folk songs or songs he’s picked up from his travelers. He will only sing if he’s 100% sure he’s alone and is mostly silent around the other harbingers so only his soldiers and you get the honor of hearing his voice.
Dottore
The doctor loves little you no matter what age you are but does have a hard and fast rule which is no playing in his lab. Ever. He acts like he doesn’t care about humanity but he's such a hypocrite as he would kill for you.
In his lab, there is a corner that is sectioned off specifically for you to be in with toys, blankets, plushies, spill-proof food, and drinks however the fencing surrounding the corner is high enough that you can’t climb over it, and thin but strong material. So you can easily see whatever your caregiver is up to but stay safe and out of harm in case anything happens.
If fussy then he’ll usually have a segment around to comfort you and attend to your needs if OG Dottore absolutely needs to do Harbinger work which both of you don’t like for different reasons. There are rare times when what he’s experimenting with or on something (like shield potions or enhanced foods) that he deems “safe” enough he’ll let you sit by him and color or fidget.
You have a lot of perfect tools for your regression that work perfectly because Dottore has done trials of what you like and what you don’t like. For example, your favorite blanket you have is a big Pyro abyss mage fur blanket that he made and keeps you warm with the mage’s abilities infused into the fur. Currently, you’ve seen him working on a cryo version for the harsh cold of Snezhnaya when you want to go outside and play in the snow but he’s yet been able to infuse a cryo-resistant effect which frustrates him to no end.
He has a strange talent for knowing exactly what’s bothering you before you know it given his knowledge of the human body and anatomy, preventing any meltdowns before they happen and keeping little you happy and satisfied.
This man is very protective over you knowing if someone finds out the second fatui harbinger had a soft spot for a human then you’re going to be a main target for his destruction and that cannot happen. Very rarely leaves you alone when you’re little and has either a trusted fatuus or segment be with you until he can get back.
Like in Sumeru, Dottore wanted to bring you with him but couldn’t due to his work having to be his main focus and secretly being worried about the traveler or Sumerian guards hurting you. He ended up leaving in the care of Arlecchino who agreed but under certain circumstances for her own mission in Fontaine and she often had some of the children from the house of the hearth care for you when she had meetings. (Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet adored you and sent you letters or “magic” gifts when you had to leave)
Columbina
This goes without saying but has one of the best singing voices of all of them and has put some of her soldiers to sleep by accident when they’ve overheard her singing to herself since her voice carries. You have been put to sleep by her voice and melodies countless times you’ve lost track and little you really like her voice. So whenever she can she’ll bring you into her office, placing you in a short walled-off area beside her, and humming or singing a favorite song while she works to reward you for being good.
Since she is the third harbinger no one really knows about her strength and that includes you, very rarely have you gotten glimpses of her power, and its always when someone threatens you or dares to question why Lady Columbina keeps a child at her side. Your caregiver shields you from the violence of the world because you’re her little one, her light among the darkness and she’s your mommy, your angelic caregiver who makes all your wishes come true.
Columbina, despite being one of the strongest harbingers, is very weak to your big cute eyes pleading for another blanket, toy, of sweet she brought back from a faraway nation and she of course bends to your wishes. At times you’ve babbled about how you have your very own fairy godmother who wipes your tears and rocks you gently whenever you get fussy. She spoils you rotten and has no shame in it, having your own room attached to hers that is baby-proofed but also filled with everything you could ever need. The room looks almost like it’s made of clouds with pacifiers hung on the wall for you to grab and everything organized in a multilayered box that contains the softest comfort clothes, pull-ups, clean wipes, and noise-canceling headphones for overstimulation.
Another one of the harbingers that is very protective of you and will not hesitate to kill others if it means getting her little one back in her arms. However, she’s pretty confident about being able to protect you; so very rarely will be brought to a meeting and sitting on your mommy’s lap happily napping or relaxing in her big coat. Some of her other colleagues aren’t fond of you being in the meeting while others are very fond of you and as a gift one winter solstice, you were gifted your own big fluffy coat resembling your mama’s coat.
Arlecchino
She isn’t one for gifts but will give you the necessary things like toys, blankets, and eventually other things from neighboring nations that she thinks your little self would like. Arlecchino has everything in themes of the ocean because of her love for her homeland and has everything organized in a somewhat kid-proof box with some stray blankets or toys out for you to play with unless you want others. Whenever you’re regressed (normally in Fountaine since that’s where she mainly stays unless sent otherwise) she pretends not to notice her children Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet giving you gifts as well. Little you is very shy and happy so when you’ve been given a gift you blush looking up at them and timidly murmuring a “thank you” to whoever gave you a gift.
One of the most protective people out of all the harbingers and if anyone decides to fuck with her little one, doesn’t resist killing that person and genuinely is wondering if they’re stupid enough to attack someone close to a harbinger. She mostly brings you with her but on occasions she can’t she keeps you in her office with her most trusted soldiers. You’re comfortable with your favorite blanket and toy all bundled up in the corner babbling about with the innocent child look in your eyes that she loves completely safe. On occasion, she’ll have one of the hearth children come and play with you, those are the days you really look forward to because you rarely get playmates aside from your mommy.
Arlecchino rarely leaves on missions but when she does she leaves you in the care of some of her soldiers along with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet to take care of you. They seriously love you and take care of you like their own sibling; Lynette of course spoils you with deserts much to Lyney’s dismay who amazes you with magic tricks and Freminet who tells you all about underwater animals. When Arlecchino does take you with her she keeps you with her at all times unless she has to go somewhere where you can’t go or it’s dangerous. In that case, she tells you to stay put at the base until she gets back setting you up with all the necessities and ordering some of her soldiers in and outside of the room.
Sandrone
At first, Marionette thought she had everything down by using her mechanical puppets to take care of you but that proved very wrong when you had nonstop tantrums and cried about wanting your real mommy claiming that these puppets were emotionless (which was true). She then had you with her at all times, including when she locks herself in her lab for hours on end focusing on her research and you’re right beside her with a puppet to bring you anything you want. You’re quite happy since you’re near your mommy and you can play and nap like you want, getting attention from time to time and when Sandrone wants a break she’ll bring you into her arms for a quick nap or cozy affections.
Is similar to Dottore about the necessities as she can pretty much make or get whatever you need and does “experiment” on you and it’s not what you think. She creates different blankets, pacifiers, and comfort clothes using different materials and learns what you like and what you don’t like. Her little one has a number of different toys (quite advanced and new) that she invented and some of them shockingly can respond to your babbles.
Since she brings you with her, where she’s traveling if there comes a time when anything dangerous happens she’ll use her main puppet that she sits on to open a sizable compartment where she’ll put her little in until the danger is over and then bring you out when this is over. Comforting you if you get scared and pulling out a small music box that sounds like your favorite song, running her fingers through your hair, and silently rubbing shapeless figures on your back.
Tartaglia
Oh my gods, this man doesn’t stop giving you gifts and toys so you have to have a couple of chests full or you share them with his siblings. You do know about his harbinger status however your little self loves the cover status he uses for his siblings and he takes great pride in encouraging it when he plays with you, joyfully claiming you’re his biggest customer and going in for tickles as a reward for being such an amazing patron (even when he had to explain to your regressed self what patron meant). Childe has a small playpen right next to his desk but back enough so he could hold your hand if you wanted and you giggled and babbled bashfully at the large space given to you. His heart warms when you draw crudely done pictures of both of you and show him with a very proud smile like a new soldier winning their first battle.
Might be one of the very protective ones even if he acts aloof and if even one person makes a move or gives off a harmful intent, he’s not holding back if the other person threatens him or his little one for a debt release and is washing some of the blood off of his clothes before he comes to see you. When you’re regressed or your mind is fuzzy you’re not sure why he always has you with him or promises that you’ll never get hurt or harmed in any way as long as he’s alive.
We all know this man is always on missions and on some of them he can’t bring you with him which pains him to no end, hoping you’re alright and his little one is not missing him too much. Like the others sent his most trusted soldiers to watch over you and care for your needs, often hearing that his siblings joined you for most of the day and smiling at the thought of you happily babbling on about your excitement. No harbingers are allowed to even be near you, especially not Il Dottore and the only exception in the fatui now was Arlecchino and Pulcinella.
It should be no surprise that the 11th harbinger spoils you with treats from all different nations and most of them are sugary or your favorite flavors. You have a whole pantry of snacks and food to nibble on if you’re hungry, they’re also non-complex foods and stuff you can easily just grab and eat. Even though your caregiver is very sweet towards you he is strict in the sense of making sure you’re nourished and not just made up of sugar. Childe also doesn’t want you to get sick or cavities if he can help it. So sweets are mostly kept to when you’re good or if he comes back/home from a long mission (usually with you there) and you’re happy either way, your favorite foods make you more agreeable.
Childe absolutely had a hard bedtime that he makes you follow however it doesn’t mean he’s just going to leave in bed to fall asleep in the dark and go about his own. He lets you pick a story for him to read or make up as you fall asleep and quietly sneaks out once he’s sure you’re sound asleep with little chance of waking up. If you have a nightmare he’ll let you cuddle with him and talk out your nightmare so it doesn’t seem scary anymore.
Pantalone
You are so spoiled by him and your whole room is filled with stuff you asked for and also didn’t ask for courtesy of your caregiver. He had a smaller version of the formal harbinger coat made for you and instructed you to wear it when you were outside with anyone, taking extra precautions with the fur and buttons so you couldn’t take them off or chew on them. He has a whole separate wardrobe of outfits for your little self and it’s all in your favorite colors. All you need to do is point to it and he’ll get it as soon as he can or if it’s someone else’s he’s not going to take it cause it’s not sanitary but he’ll make an identical one from scratch.
The banker seems not that violet or caring to anyone given his impartial opinion and blatant lack of care in La Signora’s death however that’s cause he didn’t really have any attachments to his colleagues because that’s all they were…colleagues. You are his one exception, as his lover you’re his first priority obviously over the money and when you are in your little headspace he’s not taking any chances with you. He has you with him in his office diagonally behind so he can still see you while you happily play with your toys all wrapped in blankets in case anyone bursts in with intent to harm either of you.
Pantalone’s almost always never sent on a mission since he stays in Schneznyah to take care of the Fatui’s grand finances as well as the major Northland Banks around Tevyat and that means staying at the homeland to get all the reports as soon as possible. He’s very grateful he doesn’t have to travel and gets to spend more time with you by his side, however, when he does have to leave for a mission he will take you with him every single time and doesn’t let you out of sight unless it’s with his most competent soldier. Whenever you both travel whether it’s on a boat, carriage, on foot, in the air, or on the Fontaine waterways he’ll have you with him to play with a coloring book and if it’s a long travel distance he’ll have you take a nap(if you throw a tantrum then you’re going to get sent to timeout).
Getting you to eat can be a struggle since you much prefer to nap than eat even if you need it to stay healthy and when you do eat because of Pantalone still spoiling you you have a very rich pallet or rather very expensive pallet. He’s glad that when you get hungry you don’t get really fussy you get quieter and pouty hoping your caregiver would tend to your needs. Your favorite thing to do is eat breakfast or dinner with your caregiver's lap as you both finish your meals and Pantalone lists off what he has to do today, telling you to go get your favorite toys and blanket before he heads in to do paperwork.
He is very strict on bedtimes and the reason is that you have a habit of being clingy when he has to get up which is pretty early as he has a lot of work to do as a harbinger but carefully slips in a pillow in place of himself which usually work and sometimes it doesn’t. You’ll happily snuggle into your “caregiver” as Pantalone quietly gets ready and has a soldier guard your room in case you get up or any issues come up, instructing them to report if any problems arise. Going to bed is always fun as you’re piled under blankets and he’s always snuggled next to you and reading you stories he’s heard from across all of the world.
#pierro x reader#pierro genshin impact#capitano x reader#capitano#dottore x reader#dottore#arlecchino x reader#arlecchino#columbina x reader#columbina#sandrone#sandrone x reader#childe tartagalia#childe genshin x reader#childe x reader#pantalone#pantalone x reader#harbingers x reader
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Random Cocytus Hall Headcanons
Mornings start late. Breakfast is lunch, lunch is dinner and dinner are some random snacks in the middle of the night–small and bite-sized, especially made for one particular sorcerer who has a tendency to forget his meals once he’s deep in his research.
Solomon gained a habit of eating anything that’s put in front of him, your pen? Gone. MC? Why is the steak crunchy? Man’s literally pavloved to do this because he wouldn’t eat otherwise. (Thanks, OG!Timeline, Simeon.)
Your weekends are spent scouring for magical items that will be considered rare in the original timeline/future. An "investment" if you will.
“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”
“Am I also a worm, MC?”
“No????”
“Can I be one too? 🥺👉👈” (He doesn’t want you to be alone)
“Pretending” to be a couple to get couple’s discounts in everything. Purposely making a scene in public for clout. (Fake proposals, wholesome pranks and polite catcalling). You both like the chaos. Responsibly (because Barbatos is watching). Sometimes, Asmo joins in too!
Every day is a marathon to outrun Solomon to the kitchen. It’s rather unfortunate that most of the time when it’s his turn to do the cooking, something goes wrong and you have to eat out. Not like he minds (a date is a date<3).
This is you everytime you try to wake Solomon in the morning. (He’s a notorious night owl and also a light sleeper, so he made some precautions to get a good rest by casting several layers of sound blocking spells that activate once his brain waves fall into a specific frequency range. And yes. You have to disarm them One.By.One. Every.Morning.) As much as you want him to sleep longer, unfortunately, RAD doesn’t have night class. :’( (What is even “night” in Devildom if it’s always dark? Don’t mind me having an existential crisis over a fictional realm lmao)
Solomon isn’t the type of person who voices out his grievances. He’s the type who endures and always tries to act “maturely”, especially in situations he considers unfair. (Please protect this man. He doesn’t know a thing about receiving compassion nor affection. It’s a very touchy subject to him; he would rather give and get nothing in return. Because that's what always happens. Kindness makes him vulnerable and being vulnerable scares him. )Why would he make his dearest apprentice worry? You are a person meant to be loved(unlike him), and he is painfully aware how he would have to share your attention with everyone else. What you might not know is how much he beats himself up over feeling “petty emotions”. Jealousy? Loneliness? A few swigs of liquid courage would make him forget, even just for the night. He is Solomon the Wise, not Solomon the Fool.
Is the type who answers you in person every time you try to text him in Decommunication:
You
Hey, do we still have some bread?
seen 1 hour ago
Then when you got tired waiting for him to text back he just:
*Teleports behind you* “I bought some now! Did we forget anything else?”“SOLOMON I AM LITERALLY IN THE BATHROOM RIGHT NOW! HOW DID YOU GET HERE? WHY CAN’T YOU ANSWER MY TEXTS LIKE A NORMAL PERSON?!”“But…what about the bread? :( I got it for you.”
"GET. OUT."
"Do you need toilet pap-"
"GET OUT!!!"
Contrary to Solomon’s defeatist beliefs, you crave his presence as much as he does. The little traces of him in Cocytus hall that lingers there even in his absence brings you so much comfort and reassurance. He is the first person you turn to in difficult times.
“If Solomon is here, everything will be okay.” is a mantra you like muttering to yourself when you are especially troubled. Perhaps if a certain, depressed and inebriated soul would come to hear it, his own heart’s worries would finally be silenced.
WE GET IT! YOU’RE MARRIED!! <; —----- everyone when you talk about each other
----
Happy NB Remix Release! Take this late tribute (AO3 mirror)
#oops forgot to put this as a scheduled post#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me solomon#obey me headcanons#obey me solomon x mc#obey me solomon x reader#shall we date obey me
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LONG ENOUGH | DAVIN MCDERBY
pairing: davin mcderby × reader
cw: friends to lovers, smut, brief pining & fear of rejection if you squint. MDNI
word count: 2.8k
masterlist: all characters
a/n: this is an improved version of the fic i posted on ao3, so it's a bit longer than the og, but in both i disregarded the whole deadbeat dad situation davin had going on in the movie (whoops). still, this is definitely lighter and easier going than my previous works, even if it's not my favourite so far.
Davin had already grown used to people– mostly bitter old ones– telling him what he did or didn't feel, how he should or shouldn't act, and so on. He was used to it. So why did it aggravate him so much to hear his roommate force his own, very biased and sour, opinion down his throat?
"I'm telling you, lad, all chicks are the same," his roommate, Pat, for whom he had been gradually growing a silent dislike, interrupted him again. "you'll get over her by the time summer's done! Stop being so sappy!"
Oh, that was it. He was done for.
"How about you shut up, eh? You don't even know her!" the volume of Davin's voice rose unconsciously. "All you do is sit there and complain about your failed attempts at shagging girls you meet at house parties! Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe I actually have a life?" he completed, feeling the blood rise to his cheeks as the anger made the blood in his face pulse with might.
Pat was left speechless for a good minute. He looked flabbergasted, clearly not having expected such a reaction from the ever-so-nonchalant Davin he always joked around with. A wave of embarrassment quickly hit him at the realisation that he had crossed a big line, but pride was even quicker to take over.
"If I'm such a pitiful bastard, why don't you do us a favour and leave then!" Pat bit back, his tone loaded with the grudge he was holding against his roommate, and it made Davin just as impulsive with his reply.
"I just might, you asshole!" he yelled, quickly slamming the door before storming out of the apartment complex perplexed. Did he go that far for a girl? For you, that is?
He had to see you now. Realisation hit him like a truck. He liked you, but not just like any other– he was falling for you, hard enough to the point where no one could tell him otherwise– because he knew you were worth the hassle, and anyone who had the fortune of seeing you should feel the same as well. Besides, he needed a place to crash now.
You woke up from your accidental nap, suddenly hearing a sound coming from your window, scared that someone might be trying to break into the seemingly empty house. You quickly got up from your desk, your temple slightly red from where your head rested against the wood, only to be met with a very familiar face.
"Davin? What the fuck are you doing here?" you whispered loudly, your brows furrowed in confusion as you opened the window for him to come into the room.
"Sorry, sorry, I know it's late..." he began explaining, holding his hands up in the air. "But I'm kinda homeless right now–" he continued, before being interrupted abruptly by an even more shocked you.
"What do you mean you're homeless, Davin?! What'd you do this time?"
Unbelievable, you thought. Homeless? You knew that Davin had a rather troublesome habit of getting up to no good, but him becoming homeless in the middle of the summer was not a possibility you had fathomed.
Davin sat on the bed, following after you. "I fought with my roommate, Pat. He told me to leave, so I did."
Your expression softened as you listened to his explanation. "What did you guys fight over, anyway?" you questioned him, but his reply was rather dull.
"Oh, just normal stuff, you know..."
You were left puzzled, but decided to let him be. "Alright, I won't pry. Let me get you a towel for you to take a shower– you are not sleeping in my room all sweaty."
The walk downstairs was rather quiet. You went to the laundry room by yourself, hoping to find one of your housemates to check if you could, in fact, let Davin crash. You knew the room was yours, but you still wanted to be sure. Luckily, on your way back upstairs, you bumped into your housemate Linda, who reassured you and told you it was completely fine to let your 'friend' stay over, especially since the other two girls were going to be out and about until tomorrow morning.
You hesitated before opening the door, thinking about your conversation with Davin. You said you wouldn't pry, but shouldn't you? He acted as if he were fine, but you could tell there was a hidden distress in his tone. Nonetheless, it was getting late, and he needed to shower before going to bed; how you two would manage your sleeping area was a problem for later. You turned the doorknob gently, letting yourself in again, and... shit.
Davin had fallen asleep already. Oh well, you'd just change the sheets tomorrow; the true issue was the fact that he slept like a rock, so your space would be... limited, to say the least.
You got into bed yourself, careful not to wake him up, and you noticed something– the cool facade that was once held in his face melted sometime during his sleep, being replaced now by a slightly mellow yet calm expression.
Cute, you thought, letting your eyes fall shut and feeling a dreamless slumber wash over you.
The clock read 4:52 the moment you woke up. Your... bedmate, however, was still fast asleep, his right arm resting on your torso comfortably as he slept peacefully, quiet snores leaving his soft pink lips every once in a while. Who were you to push him away? It's not like you wanted to in the first place.
You couldn't help but admire the scene in front of you. Saying Davin was handsome, in your case, would be an understatement– you were completely smitten with the reckless young man, even though you'd take that statement with you to the grave. Looking won't hurt, though, you thought to yourself. And, oh boy, did you look.
His hair was slightly ruffled from sleep, the moonlight illuminating the orange strands that tickled your neck whenever your chest rose up full of oxygen. His face was relaxed and half illuminated by the twilight, his mouth slightly agape while he breathed in and out, soft snores reverberating in the room.
Your fingers were lightly caressing his hair, and his body rested on yours– everything about this moment was so serene that you wish you could stretch it out for as long as possible. Perhaps in your dreams you would have. Sleep was coming to you again, whisking you away from this sweet moment- you could almost taste the metaphorical honey on your tongue as you drifted off for the second time, just before sunrise.
The morning went by, and the afternoon was nearing. Davin finally arose from his deep slumber and quickly took notice of the predicament you were both in– limbs completely tangled, his face lodged in the crook of your neck, and his right arm draped over your waist protectively. This would be lovely if it weren't one thing... You two were not together, and he was pretty positive that you did not want to change that situation.
As if this kettle of fish couldn't get any worse for him, you started to slowly open your eyes and shift around, tangling your legs even further. "Hey, so could you, y'know..." he muttered, visibly uncomfortable now, not knowing what to do.
"What..?" you were still sleepy, confused at what he was hinting at, until you felt his body on yours. "Oh, shit!" your cheeks turned bright red, and you untangled your legs from Davin's in record time, even though you weren't really bothered by it to begin with. The two of you were both lying on your backs now, the ceiling fan suddenly becoming incredibly interesting.
As awkward as it was, this moment forced a minute of reflection for you both.
During the past few weeks you had spent with your friends here in Montauk, there hasn't been a day where Davin hasn't crossed your mind at least once since you met him in the beginning of your stay. He was unbelievably handsome in your eyes, and you had caught yourself getting lost in his eyes more often than you'd like to admit.
But he was also trouble. It was clear to you after just a few minutes of chatting with him at the bar– that boy was here to live almost everyday like it was the last, and you couldn't keep up with that, no way. Yet you couldn't stay away, and he knew it as much as you. You always ended up finding each other unintentionally, and would then spend the rest of the day or night together. You went around sharing drinks at the bar, walking side by side on the beach, cracking jokes and having long talks in his car as he gave you a ride back home, sometimes sharing a kiss here and there after having a bit too much alcohol. However, you never went below the tip of the iceberg, that was the unspoken rule– keep it at surface level, never deeper than that.
You stopped your racing thoughts, reaching a conclusion– this, whatever it was, was unbearable. Fuck the unspoken agreements and tensions, you had to say something or you'd go mental.
"Do you like me, Davin?" you finally broke the silence with your question.
"What?" he looked at you confused.
"Do you like me?"
Davin froze completely. For someone who quite literally went homeless for a whole night defending his feelings for you, he sure as hell couldn't talk above them like that was the case, cowardice taking over his senses. But no, he couldn't chicken out– not now. He came to your place last night to tell you that he couldn't keep this game of rat and mouse anymore; he had to do something.
So his solution was to roll on top of you and slam his lips on yours impulsively, hoping that the passion in his actions would convey the answer to your question. You gasped before kissing him back, surprised that you make Davin go away with your inquiring. So much for keeping things at surface level.
The hands that were once resting near your head were now wandering lower and lower, getting closer to your hips and upper thighs. Before they went any further, you guided Davin's face gently with your hands, making his eyes meet yours.
"What are we?" It was always you and your questions.
"I dunno, what do you want us to be?"
Smartass, you thought.
"Don't dodge the question," you retorted.
"Well, do you want us to be together? Y'know, dating and all," he looked serious for once, which surprised you for a moment.
"I do," you smiled at him, bringing his face close and kissing him feverishly, allowing him to get back to his ministrations.
Davin's hands roamed around your body as he explored you, quickly discarding your top, something he thought about doing rather often. You laughed a little as he ghosted over your ribs, touching your ticklish spot before you intervened.
"I think you have way too many clothes on, don't you?" you said playfully, which earned a playful laugh from him– it was true, so he let you drag his white t-shirt off his torso and undo his belt for him. Davin took a moment to admire your focus, and the smile you gave him once you were done– a tender nature for the carnal act you two were about to get into.
His touch made you feel feverish, lust taking over your brain and dictating your words and movements. Your hips buckled against his thigh as you chased some form of friction, low whines coming out of your mouth like a plea for action– one which Davin did not ignore, smirking at your antics before sliding your bottoms off in a swift motion, revealing your bare cunt for him to observe. He took a moment to drink in the sight before his eyes until he couldn't suppress his urges any longer.
He lapped at your folds hungrily, savouring your arousal as he felt the tension in his own trousers increase, low moans escaping his throat and vibrating on your sensitive skin. You felt him drink you up like a starving man as he sloppily worked up your most sensitive spots, eliciting whines and pleas from you for more and more of what he was giving you.
With the eager efforts you received, it wasn't hard for you to feel as if you were drowning in pleasure, your high coming closer and closer. Even in a not very logical state, you were aware of your partner's own neediness, grinding his hips into the bed almost unconsciously, seeking someone form of release for his own aching, his subtle moans delivering vibrations to your clit every now and then. Observing his behaviour, you tugged at his hair, making him look at you just like you did earlier– that could easily become a habit for you.
"You can take your time later– just fuck me right now, please." you pleaded, feeling your own longing to be filled by him. The nod you received indicated that you were understood.
Davin was quick to get himself out of his trousers, throwing them somewhere on the floor, his boxers following soon after. His cock was finally out in display for you to see– girthy, flushed and leaking precum already. Noticing your fixed gaze, he looked up at you.
"Like what you see?" He asked, laughing as a way pretend that your admiration wasn't inflating his ego bit by bit.
"Yes." You confessed, no shame in your admission. After all, what was the sense in having shame at this point?
Smoothly, Davin dragged his cock against your folds, gathering up your slick before going inside you. The initial stretch you felt was pure bliss, ecstasy running through your veins with each inch that went deeper in your velvety walls. Your nails maimed his back, drawing crescent shapes on his shoulder blades while your whines and moans hit the bedroom walls and his ears.
"Fuck, you're tight," Davin couldn't help but groan in your ear. His thrusts were fast, aiming at the sensitive spot in your walls, riling you up as he chased his own pleasure.
"I'm so close– baby, please..." you whined incessantly, desperate for your release to come. You heard Davin say something along the lines of 'just a little more', which you barely registered, your mind foggy with pleasure.
You could feel his touches all over your body– his hands slithered along your hips, your waist, and stopped at the swell of your breasts while his lips kissed and suckled on the curve of your neck. You felt the assaults to your core getting sloppier, signaling that Davin was close. But before even saying a word, his hands moved over your breasts, one playing with your right nipple while the other lazily massaged your left boob. His thought-out actions caused whines to fall from your lips, your cunt clenching and dripping as you felt your climax right around the corner.
Suddenly, you felt the hand that was playing with your nipple travel down to your clit. He started drawing circles with his thumb on the bundle of nerves, and that was it for you– your orgasm washed over you like the strongest of waves, rocking you out of your senses, clouding your vision and tensioning all your muscles before relaxing you profoundly. You took a minute to come back to reality, whimpering as you felt Davin continue to thrust into your pussy with desperation, seeking his own orgasm.
It didn't feel like a long time before you heard a grunt coming from him, and he pulled out of you, painting your bare stomach and tits with his cum. He collapsed next to you, remaining silent as he watched you collect his release with your fingers before sucking on them, letting out an audible pop sound when you were done.
"You're amazing..." he muttered, in awe of the little show you had just put on for him.
"Only a little," you giggled, shifting yourself to hug his torso as you decompressed after the events of this morning. You pulled the bedsheets back over your bodies, ceasing the goosebumps that tickled your skin. Davin's heavy breaths were the only noise filling the room– there was a comfortable silence established, only to be broken by him;
"Took us long enough, eh?"
You both giggled at the honesty in his statement. It truly was a long wait, but definitely a worthy one.
#madeinlisbon#cillian murphy#cillian x reader#davin mcderby#davin mcderby x reader#sunburn#sunburn 1999#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy fic#cillian murphy fanfiction#cillian murphy imagine#cillian murphy smut#cillian murphy one shot#sunburn movie#i love cillian murphy#cillian x fem!reader#cillian murphy movies
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“You’re mine, after all” - Kaname (Vampire Knight) x Reader
Kaname Kuran x Female!Reader
WARNING: possessive behaviour, vampires, blood, biting
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“You’re mine, after all.”
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lil note:
ohhh i love this man. there is more coming. i need more vampire knight x reader authors i loveee this man he was my og yandere ugh. also vampire knight has one of the best aesthetics for the manga and THE best soundtrack
also this is part of a little series of yandere one shots of anime/genshin characters i did that you can find on ao3 here
//
You make your way towards the entrance that leads to the balcony, trailing behind Kaname, who encompasses the attention of all those below as he advances across the grey stone.
He sits, lazily placing himself down on the chair in the centre of the balcony. His eyes briefly scan the ongoings of those below him with little interest, before they flick back to you, waiting anxiously behind the shield of the doors.
He offers you a smile, a sight saved only for you in his otherwise uncaring demeanour. It's the same comforting twitch of his lips that you've received all your life, and it gives you that bit of courage to step out into the eyes of so many.
It's nerve-wracking, being under the scrutinising gazes of so many who judge you, who envy you, whose primal desires to kill spark as they stare at you, held back only by the man before you, and the unspoken claim he holds over you.
"Y/N," he calls, beckoning you with two, long fingers from his seat, "sit here." He looks at you, expectantly, and you almost stumble as you rush to follow his demands with a dumb, instinctual submission that brings an amused smile to his lips.
The seat is more a love seat than anything else, but the design is a little different, thinner on one end, so that you only have a little room to sit comfortably, but you move nervously to perch on the edge, nonetheless.
You turn with a start at the sudden touch of a hand on your waist, to see Kaname looking at you with a slight frown. You speak, rushed.
"Should I move to the other-"
"No," he's quick to silence you, "sit here." His legs open a little wider, and he pats one hand down on his thigh.
You can't stifle the little gasp you let out, turning your head quickly to the crowd in the hopes that nobody is watching. But Kaname is a Pureblood vampire, after all, and all attention naturally falls to him, and his date for the evening.
You move to sit on his lap, hesitantly. You sit down gingerly, worrying that you're too heavy or that you'll make him uncomfortable, but a strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his chest and onto his lap, trapping your body against his own.
"Don't be afraid, Y/N," goosebumps prickle on your skin at the sound of his voice beside your ear, carrying a teasing tone, "you won't hurt me." His other hand reaches beneath the slit of your dress, a finger dragging shamelessly down the skin of your thigh.
"Look who's here." Kaname whispers, gently turning your chin so that your eyes fall onto a familiar head of white hair, separate from the rest. Lavender eyes stare up at you with a dark glare.
"Zero-"
Kaname's mouth attaches to your neck, sucking lightly at the soft skin, and all breath and words are stolen from your body. You fall silent and still in his grasp, a warmth spreading through your body at the contact of his lips on your skin. But your eyes are still open, and your heart aches with guilt the moment that you see Zero's mouth curl in disgust, eyes narrowing at the sight of you, so pliant in Kaname's arms.
He's furious.
"K-Kaname, don't-" You protest, lightly trying to push him away as the heat of Zero's stare burns into your skin. You try to convince him, not daring to look at Zero anymore. "E-everyone's staring!"
There's a sharp nip to your skin, and you can feel the warm trickle of blood as it travels down your neck, leaving a dark stain. It's almost as if the collective body of vampire's holt for just a second, and you have no doubt now that everyone's attention is on that singular drop of red trailing down your neck. But then it's gone with a long, slow drag of Kaname's tongue against your skin.
"Let them stare, you're mine after all."
#vampire knight#kaname kuran#kaname x reader#zero kiryuu#kaname#vampire knight x reader#yandere vampire knight#zero kiryuu x reader
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people like us
pairing: steve harrington / eddie munson
summary: Five times Amanda Driscoll hears about Mr. Harrington’s wife and the One time she realizes it’s his husband.
warnings: some angst in #4 and a slight coming out (to herself) arc, hinted at homophobia (nothing explicit)
word count: 7.5k
a/n: (10/18/2023): a little after a year from the original post date, i decided to go back and edit it. it's still the same story any rereaders know, but all the little plot holes and issues have been fixed and there's 200 more words to read! thank you for reading <3
(og note): this is based off of this post i made! i will be doing a second part to this that follows eddie's bandmates and meeting steve! i hope you enjoy and any feedback, likes, reblogs, comments, ask, are all appreciated!
Read it on AO3
taglist: @zed-zeppeli @valenschmidt @expectocrucio @rel312 @jonathanbyersbbg @beeing-stuupid @ataztuv @noahzanehethey @ludabug @mavernanche @casualherolightbailiff @purplebellybell @phenomenal-bird @persephone13 @gleefully-macabre @darkqloszed @the-baby-goblin @aryanightshade @jojobeaner @specialagentslut-24 @goodomensgurl
1. Monday, August 21st, 1995
Amanda was not one to be late, especially on the first day of school. Her steps echoed in the empty hallway as she rushed to her first period class. In one hand she held a tardy slip. In the other was a ripped piece of notebook paper detailing her homeroom class in smudged blue ink.
Mr. Harrington
U.S. History
Room 114
Having lived in Hawkins her whole life, she’d been attending the same middle school her older sister and both parents attended. This made her rather familiar with the staff at Hawkins Middle and yet she hadn’t recognized Mr. Harrington’s name. Reaching her classroom, she grabbed the handle and pushed it open.
All the desks were arranged in groups of four and there were four groups. Hanging from the ceiling, were pieces of laminated paper designating each desk group a number. The walls were covered in different iconic historical quotes, maps of the worlds, and black and white photos of people Amanda assumed were important. On her teacher’s desk was a small globe, a pencil cup, and a clay pot full of various origamis. Her teacher was leaning against his desk, in the middle of a speech when he was interrupted by the squeak of the door being opened. All eyes landed on Amanda and she squirmed under her peers' watchful gaze. She walked shyly over to Mr. Harrington and handed him her pass.
“Ah, Amanda! Welcome to U.S. History. Uh, here! Grab a syllabus and there’s a free seat at table two! I’m just telling the class a bit about myself.” He smiled politely at her, and motioned toward table two. At table two, Mary and Lj were sitting on the same side, facing the windows, so Amanda chose the seat across from Lj. She quietly sat her stuff down and paid attention to what her teacher was saying.
“Like I was saying, I was born and raised in Hawkins. I walked these very same halls you did once before! It’s actually where I met my current partner, I just didn’t know it at the time. I started at Ivy Tech college before I transferred to Indiana State Teachers College to get my degree. I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years and taught at the local high school, before we moved back this past summer to take care of their dad and here we are! I’m also the coach for the basketball team so information about try-outs will go up soon. Now, enough about me. If you’d take a look at your syllabus…”
Mr. Harrington’s voice faded into ambient noise in the background as she looked around her classroom. He’d met his wife right here in this building, and he didn’t even know it at the time. The person Amanda would marry could be sitting right in front of her and she’d never know until she was finally with them. She glanced around and her eyes landed on Louise-Jane Brooks, or Lj as she was typically called. Amanda immediately looked away, a fierce blush painting her cheeks the same color as her hair. That happened almost every time she looked at Lj. How weird is it that someone she’s known since kindergarten made her so nervous? The sun fitted itself through the blinds behind Amanda and illuminated Lj, like she had her own personal spotlight shining down on her. Brown skin, long braids, deep dark eyes turned to honey, and freckles left over from summer time glittered underneath the light and it stirred up something within Amanda that her mind had trouble reconciling with.
“Any questions?” Mr. Harrington’s voice cut through the Lj related fog in Amanda’s mind and her hand immediately shot up.
“You said you met your wife in middle school. How did you know she was the one?” Amanda forced her eyes to stay on Mr. Harrington despite the strange urge to look back at Lj.
“Well I didn’t know I’d marry them in middle school. I didn’t know that I’d marry them until way after college. We met in middle school. We were desk partners in our science class and they taught me how to make origami out of our homework sheets.” He picked up the little clay pot on his desk and pulled out what looked like a pencil. “They made me this little pencil for my first day teaching here.” He returned the origami pencil and the clay pot back to their spot on his desk and looked back out toward his students. “Are there any other questions?...No? Alright we’re gonna head down to the library and grab your textbooks so line up!”
A symphony of chairs screeching against the ground and whispering voices erupted as the students lined up by the door. Much to the delight of Amanda, Lj ended up in front of her. Lj was wearing a baby pink dress with white polka dots and white flats. Amanda tapped Lj’s shoulder and waited for her to turn. She turned and Amanda had to ignore the warmth in her cheeks as she spoke.
“I like your dress!” Lj’s smile grew in response to Amanda’s compliment.
“Thank you, Amy. It has pockets!” and she stuck her hands into the pockets of the dress to show them to Amanda. Amanda went to say something but the line had started to move so she kept her response to herself.
2. Friday, September 15th, 1995
In the weeks that passed, Amanda found herself looking forward to her first period class more and more. Mr. Harrington made learning about history much more fun than her previous teachers had. Though they had to check out the textbooks in the library provided by the state, Mr. Harrington told them to stack them along the window sill and they sat there everyday, untouched. In class, he told them the real history and explained what actually happened, what the textbooks glossed over or lied about. Instead of reading page after page in their textbooks they got to do fun projects creating poster boards, making dioramas, and even creating their own political cartoons.
Amanda has also been early everyday. She was sitting in her regular seat waiting for class to start, when two boys walked in, talking excitedly about some band she’d never heard of.
“Did you hear about the first Corroded Coffin show last night in Indianapolis? Apparently people were camping outside the venue for 2 nights to try and score tickets! I want to see them on tour so bad!” Mr. Harrington peaked his head up from the paper he was writing on and joined the boys’ conversation.
“You guys like Corroded Coffin? I know those guys, we all went to high school together.” Mr. Harrington said. He looked off to the side, brows furrowed as he thought about something. “Maybe I can ask them to come for career day in October?”
The two boys gasped excitedly and started asking their teachers questions about the band and how he met them. Mary, who sat diagonally across from Amanda, sighed. Amanda watched, Mary, who had her head in her hands, gazing dreamily at Mr. Harrington.
“Isn’t he just so handsome, Amanda?” Mary said, turning to look at her. Amanda wrinkled her nose in response. Sure, Mr. Harrington wasn’t ugly but she couldn’t see what it was about him that made all the girls trip over themselves. No matter if they were in the cafeteria during lunch or in the library for study hall, she was subject to hearing theories of what Mr. Harrington’s wife looked like, and whispers of ‘She’s so lucky’. Amanda didn’t get any of it. Still, she wanted to fit in, so she pretended. He wore the same style glasses that she did, so at least she could compliment him without lying. To herself or her classmates.
“Um, I like his glasses.” She replied. Avoiding Mary’s piercing gaze, she decided pulling her pencil bag out was a smart move.
“I don’t know, Amy,” Lj said, looking up from her book. “I think Miss. Rosario is prettier than Mr. Harrington. She would never come to school with her shirt so wrinkled.” Lj glanced at Mr. Harrington once more before going back to her book. Mary flipped her long, blonde hair over her shoulder, before she raised her hand. Next to her, Amanda’s eyes were glued to Lj. Miss Rosario was pretty. Super pretty. If everyone was talking about that, she’d understand one hundred percent. She forced herself to look away when Mr. Harrington started speaking.
“Yes, Mary?”
“You don’t normally come to school with your shirt so wrinkled. Why today?” She asked. Mr. Harrington looked down at his shirt and inspected the wrinkles and huffed. He was wearing a plain blue and white striped polo, and jeans since it was a friday.
“Thank you…for pointing that out, Mary. For your information, normally my partner irons my shirts every morning while I make breakfast, but they’ll be away for the next month on a work trip, and I was in a rush and forgot to do it.” He walked back around behind his desk and grabbed the hawkins middle hoodie that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and put it on. “There, Now no one can see the wrinkles.” He raised his eyebrows, as if to say ‘is this okay’ and Mary nodded as she giggled
“Why does your wife always iron your shirts? Why don’t you iron your own shirts and she makes breakfast?” Janet asked.
“Well, Janet, if you must know, they like to pick out my clothes, and I’m the only one who can cook so it just works out.” Mr. Harrington replied. A few awws came from the crowd and he waved them away. “Yes, it’s all very sweet and domestic and all that jazz. Now, who can tell me where we left off yesterday.”
3. Tuesday, October 3rd, 1995
“Yo, Mr. H, what’s that thing on your nose?” It was right before class began, and Mr. Harrington had just turned around from writing their new essay prompt on the board. Right in the center of his face was a scratch, from the bridge of his nose to underneath his eye. Amanda was by the door, sharpening her pencil for the lesson.
“Well Good Morning to you too, Gerald. That thing on my nose is a scratch. My partner came home for the weekend and we ended up adopting some kittens last night. Three of them actually, so in the whole mess of transporting 3 kittens back to our home…” He gestured to his face and then shrugged.
“What did you name the kittens?” A voice said from the back.
“Sabbath, Kirk, and Abba.” His lips pursed, as if he was trying to suppress his smile.
“Why those names?” Amanda asked before she could stop herself. She recognized Abba because her older sister was always blasting it through her walkman, but the other two names were unfamiliar. She assumed they probably also had to do with music but she wasn't sure what they were references to.
“Well Sabbath and Kirk are nods to my partners favorite bands. The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’.” Mr. Harrington had an exasperated look on his face, but you could hear the fondness in his voice as he talked about his partner. He glanced over at his origami pot, which Amanda noted now had a black cat added to it. She spun to walk back to her desk with her newly sharpened pencils when Lj walked into class, beating the bell by a few seconds and immediately caught Amanda’s attention.
“Woah, Amy! You wore your hair down today?” Lj said, and stopped when she saw the redhead by the door. Amanda typically kept her hair in a ponytail and her bangs neatly trimmed just above her eyebrows to keep her curls from falling into her face while she worked. Today though, she had a black and white striped headband settled behind her bangs, the rest of her curly hair falling down to her shoulders. “I really like it like this. You look extra pretty.” Lj offered her a small smile and made her way to her seat. Amanda's hand flew to her hair and her jaw fell open a bit, eyes tracking Lj’s movements as she walked away.
Lj thought she was extra pretty with her hair down. Extra. Like she always thought Amanda was pretty, but with her hair down…she was more, pretty. Additionally pretty. Especially pretty. Her gaze slowly left Lj and landed on Mr. Harrington who was watching her with an expression on his face that she couldn’t quite place. He shook his head in amusement and then pointed to her desk with his chin. It took her feet a few seconds to catch up with her brain and move, but she made it to her seat. As she sat down, Gerald called out to her teacher.
“Wait Mr. H, I’m confused. Why did y’all get 3 kitties in the first place?” Mr. Harrington sighed and ran a hand down his face, wincing when he made contact with the scratch.
“We couldn’t separate the siblings. Or, my partner didn’t want to separate them and…who am I to stop them. So we got three kittens.” His eyes widened like he still couldn’t believe it.
“Will you bring them in so we can meet them?” Kendra asked hopefully. Amanda knew she wanted to be a veterinarian so it made sense that she’d ask. That was the cool thing about going to school with the same kids all her life. She knew so many little things about them and what their aspirations were. Gerald was out of this world smart so he’d decided he would either be a lawyer or a doctor, whichever paid more. Mary wanted to be a famous actress, Janet loved science, and Lj was a writer like no other.
Amanda imagined hanging out with Lj in the future. Lj as a world famous journalist for the New York Times and Amanda working somewhere with numbers. They would both live in New York because Lj would want a friend there and they’ll live in the same apartment to save money and they’ll share a room because what if it’s lonely and she’ll get to wake up to Lj and fall asleep with Lj and grocery shop with Lj and
Amanda sat up straighter in her seat and shook her head as if to shake those thoughts out of her mind. She reminded herself to leave those types of thoughts to when she was alone and tuned back into the ongoing conversation.
“Sorry Kendra, can’t do that. I have a kid in my third and seventh period classes with allergies to fur.”
“What if your wife brings them, and then after this class period, she takes them back home?” Someone else suggested. Mr. Harrington chuckled to himself and dropped his head, letting it hang for a moment.
“That won’t be possible, they’re on a work trip, remember. Maybe I’ll bring a picture in so you all can see.” He offered, looking around to see if that would appease his students.
“But we want to see your wife! You’re always talking about her!” That comment came from Mary. Mr. Harrington laughed again and Amanda wondered what was so funny.
“Ok ok, I see what’s going on here. You’re trying to get me to talk about my personal life so we don’t start those essays today huh? Unluckily for you, I was a student once so I know all your tricks! Come on, let’s get class started.” A few tried to protest, but eventually they grabbed their notebooks and flipped to fresh pages.
As Amanda worked, her hair continued to fall into her face. She resisted the urge to tie it back into its signature ponytail, instead opting to tuck her hair behind her ear constantly. Louise-Jane Brooks thinks Amanda Driscoll is extra pretty with her hair down and Amanda decided it was normal to want another girl to think she’s pretty, so she kept her hair down.
4. Friday, October 13th, 1995
“Mr. Harrington, what was high school like for you?”
That day, the eighth grade class had a field trip to the high school now that their first marking period was nearly over. The class was pretty chatty now that they were back in their classroom waiting for the dismissal bell to ring. They were all standing around Mr. Harrington’s desk, a few sitting on the student desks behind them. They quieted down when they heard the question asked.
“I was pretty popular in high school, was co-captain of the swim team, fought some monsters, skipped prom, then I graduated and met the love of my life.” Mr. Harrington was staring upwards, like he was checking off an imaginary list in his mind. Immediately, a gaggle of questions were shouted out at him. His eyes widened in shock and he put his hands up in surrender. “Woahhh guys, one a time, let me see some hands. McKenzie, what’s your question?”
“I thought you met your wife in middle school?” A few ‘yeah’s came from the group as they recalled what Mr. Harrington told them on the first day of class.
“That is technically right. I did meet them in middle school and we were friends for that science class we shared. Then we drifted apart until after I graduated. We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school and ever since then it’s been me and them.”
“What do you mean by fighting monsters?” Another person asked. Mr. Harrington only shrugged. His arms, which were hanging down by his sides, wrapped around his stomach. “Whatever you think it means, Kevin.”
“He’s probably talking about some game or movie,” Someone commented from the back of the group to their friend. Mr. Harrington didn’t acknowledge them, only staring out the window. The kids begin to break off into separate conversation when the bell rings to dismiss for the day.
“Hey Amy,” Lj said, approaching her as the crowd started to disperse and leave Amanda, Lj, and their teacher behind. Mr. Harrington yelled out a ‘See you tomorrow and made good decisions!’ as he sat back behind his desk. The two girls were standing in the aisle between table one and table two, a few feet from the front of Mr. Harrington’s desk. She noticed her teacher start to look for something on his desk.
“I’m surprised you’re still here, normally you're first out the door.” She commented. Amanda smiled at the thought of Lj paying that much attention to her.
“I have Chess Club afterschool today so my mom will get me at four. I don’t have to catch the bus.” Lj hummed in acknowledgement before speaking again.
“So…I just moved to a new house, and I finally finished decorating my room. If it’s okay with your mom, my mom said I could invite people over now.” Lj had a delicate smile on her face as her fingers played with the hem of her t-shirt before being stuffed into the pockets of her jeans.
“Um, yeah of course! I’d love to! How do I tell you if my mom said it’s ok?” Amanda said, smiling so widely she knew her cheeks would ache later.
“Uhhhh,” Lj looked around, before taking a few steps and grabbing a marker out of Mr. Harrington’s pencil cup. Amanda trailed behind her. Lj grabbed Amanda’s arm and wrote down a series of numbers on her forearm. Amanda could see that Mr. Harrington was now fumbling for something within his desk. Lj let her hand fall from Amanda’s forearms to her hand.
“There. That’s my home phone number, just call me when you ask your mom! I hope she says yes. I got this jewelry making kit so we can like, make bracelets and stuff! Bye, Amy! Call me! Even if you can't come over!” Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and walking out the classroom.
Amanda was rooted in her spot, the path LJ’s fingers took burned into her skin. Having feelings for Lj had gone from manageable to completely unbearable from that one interaction. How was she supposed to walk around everyday not aching to touch her again? To feel the weight of Lj’s hand in hers and have her small, kind, infectious smile directed at Amanda. Her fingers traced the numbers on her arm as she reimagined her Saturday plans. She was shaken from her daydream when a throat cleared. Her head snapped to the source of the noise, and she met eyes with Mr. Harrington. Realizing he watched that entire interaction, her smile dropped. She knew exactly what he was thinking. It was the same things her parents whispered in the kitchen when they thought she was asleep in the living room.
“That wasn’t what it looked like. I don’t have a crush on Lj.” Mr. Harrington only raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips.
“I…I didn’t say you did.” He replied.
Amanda’s cheeks burned a deep red as she realized he didn’t say that. He didn’t say anything. She assumed she knew what he was thinking and just dug herself into a hole. She looked away embarrassed, feeling the burn of restrained tears behind her eyes. She’d just come to terms herself with what those feelings inside her meant. She wasn’t ready to deal with what it meant to openly like girls. But now she’d have to, Mr. Harrington was going to tell her mom.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” She whispered, looking away when a few tears fell. Mr. Harrington’s eyes widened in shock. He jumped up from his desk, walked around to the front, and kneeled in front of Amanda.
“Hey, hey, hey don't cry. I won’t tell anyone anything you don’t want me to. There’s nothing for me to tell, Amanda. Promise.” He reassured, his hands flailing about in front of him as he spoke. He offered a comforting squeeze on the shoulder before shifting to sit criss-cross in front of his desk, using it to lean on.
Amanda watched Mr. Harrington as he sat on the floor and made himself comfortable. He looked up at Amanda and patted the spot next to him. She sat down with him, legs stretched into the aisle in front of them and her back pressed up against Mr. Harrington’s desk. She took her glasses off and wiped her eyes, and Mr. Harrington pushed his glasses into his hair and began to speak.
“If I may ask, what is it… that I'm not telling?” He asked, voice gentle.
“I don’t think you’d understand.” She said, voice shaky with unshed tears.
“Maybe…maybe not. But you never know unless you tell me. If you want to, of course.” He said as he watched Amanda carefully.
“How do you feel about your wife?” She asked him, finger aimlessly prodding at the linoleum floors.
“My partner is the best gift that I could have ever been given. They’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever laid my eyes on. The kindest, most compassionate, and genuine person I know. And they’re hilarious, they make me laugh like never before. I used to dread going home, but now that they’re there, I can’t wait to get back to them everyday. Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them. They are the center of my universe and every planet surrounding it.”
The two sat in silence for a moment after. Amanda wondered what it would be like to love a girl so fully. To love a girl so much that her mere presence made the stars shine brighter and air seem crisper. To love a girl, and be free to tell anyone who asked.
“I want,” she started. “I want to be allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Amanda nearly whispered the end of her sentence, the force of hearing her voice admit that out loud for the first time knocked the air out of her.
“You are allowed to feel that way about a girl.” Mr. Harrington said, shifting to face Amanda better. She turned to look at him, red rimmed eyes meeting earnest ones. “My best friend and her wife moved to San Francisco so that they could. They’re much more open minded out there. When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us out there way more than you did here in Hawkins.” Amanda’s brows knitted in confusion.
“People like us?” She asked. Mr. Harrington nodded.
“People like us,” He confirmed. Amanda let the weight of both their confessions settle in the air. Other people felt this way. Mr. Harrington did. And so did his best friend and her wife. And the people in San Francisco and in Chicago. She wasn’t the only person who felt. Amanda let her worries be temporarily soothed by the comfort of knowing she wasn’t a freak or a mistake. She wiped her eyes again, put her glasses back on, and pushed herself off the floor. She looked up at the clock which read 3:12. Chess Club started in three minutes.
“I have to go, I don’t want to be late…but thank you, Mr. Harrington.” Amanda said, voice quiet.
“Anytime, Amanda. My door is always open.” And she didn’t doubt that. Not many people in Hawkins knew how she felt, but Mr. Harrington did and that was more than she thought.
5. Monday, October 15th, 1995
When Amanda walked into her homeroom class the following day, the first thing she noticed was the new poster up by the chalkboard. It was a plain beige rectangle with rainbow patterned letters, spelling out “YOU ARE SAFE HERE.” Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes immediately searched for Mr. Harrington, but he was busy talking to one of her classmates. She walked to her seat, reveling in the warmth that grew in her chest from how nice it was to be cared for like this.
As Amanda placed her arm on her desk, she felt the delicious bite of the gems on her bracelet sink into the skin of her wrist. She lifted her wrist to inspect the new jewelry she made with Lj. There were pink, orange, and red beads patterned on her bracelet, while Lj’s had a pink, blue, and purple pattern. Both bracelets however, had “LJ&AMY”. Her right hand came up and she ran her fingers over the beads, and smiled fondly as she remembered her weekend with Lj. Memories of bracelet making, pizza, karaoke, and sharing a banana split sundae filled her mind. Amanda looked ahead of her and saw that Lj was already staring at her. She smiled at her and waved shyly. Lj giggled and waved back.
“I like your bracelet,” She said, smiling back at Amanda. Amanda stuck her hand wrist out proudly to show off the bracelet Lj helped her make.
“Why thank you, it’s custom made, one of a kind,” She laughed again, but was interrupted by one of her classmates yelling over the chatter in the classroom.
“How was your weekend, Mr. H,” Gerald asked.
“It was pretty good. I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner and they had a picnic set up. It was very sweet. They even made me a flower crown by hand. We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.” He responded.
“Wow, Mr. H, your wife sounds mad sweet.” Gerald responded, his fingers absentmindedly twirling one of his locs.
“Right,” Kendra piped in from the back corner. “Everytime you say something about her it’s always something so gentle. Like she taught you how to make origami, and she irons your clothes, made you adopt all those cats, now a picnic at Lovers’ Lake and a handmade flower crown? She’s like, the sweetest woman in the world.” Kendra said, recalling all the kind things Mr. Harrington’s partner did for him.
“I wish you guys paid this much attention to what I say when i’m teaching, how did you even remember all of that?” Kendra only shrugs and Mr. Harrington sighs. “Anyways, what about you guys, what did you get up to this weekend?” Immediately Lj’s hand went up and Mr. Harrington called on her. She reached her hand out to Amanda, who immediately clasped her fingers around Lj’s.
“Well Amy came over to my house and we did a bunch of fun stuff like go to the mall and get pizza, but we also made these matching bracelets.” Lj then stuck their conjoined hands in the air so their classmates could see the bracelets, even if it was a bit awkward with all that space between the two girls.
Amanda’s grin grew impossibly bigger and she looked at Mr. Harrington who raised his brows in pleasant surprise.
“That’s very nice girls, my partner and my best friend have a matching pair of purple converse that they decorated together actually. Janet, what about you? How was your weekend?” Mr. Harrington went on, letting his students tell him all about their weekend before they started class. Amanda couldn’t pay much attention to what her classmates were saying though, savoring every second Lj kept her in hand in Amanda’s.
“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird how Mr. Harrington never just says ‘my wife’?” Mary whispered to her tablemates. Amanda froze for a moment, considering Mary’s words. Lj squeezed Amanda’s hand before letting go and picking up her pencil to take notes since Mr. Harrington was now starting the lesson. Amanda didn’t follow her lead. Instead, she ran back every time Mr. Harrington brought up his wife.
“Then I lived in Chicago with my spouse for a few years…”
“...normally my partner irons my shirts every morning…”
“Everything leads back to them, and I’m never not thinking about them, or missing them, or loving them.”
Why didn’t Mr. Harrington just say ‘my wife’ instead of ‘my partner’? Why did he always say ‘they’ instead of ‘she’? Amanda’s mind reminded her of their conversation afterschool on friday.
“When I lived in Chicago, you heard about people like us way more than here in Hawkins.”
People like…us.
Her eyes darted to the new poster hanging up in their class. You are safe here. Her eyes drifted to Mr. Harrington as the realization dawned on her. Why Mr. Harrington was so specific about how he referred to his partner. Why he didn’t have a picture of them on his desk like her other teachers do.
Mr. Harrington…doesn’t have a wife. He has a husband.
+1. Tuesday, October 16th, 1995
It was career fair day so after lunch instead of heading to her algebra class, Amanda met up with Lj in front of the gym to browse all the different jobs that came to present that day. She almost tripped over her feet in excitement once she spotted Lj. She quickened her pace, nearly running over one of the 6th graders. The two girls embraced before linking arms as they walked into the gym together.
They stopped by the doctor table and the accounting table, and ran past the construction table giggling. They visited the journalism table so Lj could talk with the woman there. She had a short, curly bob and a name tag that read “Miss Wheeler”. Amanda looked around and spotted Mr. Harrington toward the back of the fair talking with another man with unruly, curly hair. The long haired man smiled at Mr. Harrington and knocked the educators shoulder with his own.
Amanda told Lj she would be right back and headed in their direction. Upon arriving, Mr. Harrington’s friend stepped away from him and approached Amanda. He was wearing a t-shirt that said “The Devil Was Once an Angel” and ripped black jeans. He had many rings on his fingers and various chains hanging off his belt loops. He had multiple tattoos all along his arms and stuck to the front of his chest was a name tag that read “Mr. Munson”.
Looking at his display, she saw a speaker, quietly playing metal music and a black and red electric guitar on a stand next to it. There were pictures of the long haired man on stage with 3 other guys and a notebook open with what looked like song lyrics. Next to the notebook, there were some tickets for a band called ‘Corroded Coffin’. Amanda racked her memory trying to remember why the name sounded familiar.
“Amanda!” Mr. Harrington greeted. He turned and faced Mr. Munson. “Mr. Munson, this is that student I told you about. Amanda, this is Eddie Munson, lead guitarist, lead vocals, and songwriter for his band.” Mr. Harrington looked at Eddie proudly, and placed a hand on each shoulder, in a weird sort of side hug.
“Thank you for that lovely introduction, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Munson said, grinning widely. He then turned to Amanda. “What kind of music do you listen to, Red?” He had his hands clasped together, his two pointer fingers pressed against his lips.
“Uhh, I guess I listen to a lot of pop music. My older sister introduced me to someone called Madonna? I mainly listen to my sister's old tapes so whatever she has,” Amanda responded.
Mr. Munson gasped, dramatically clutching his hand to his chest where his heart would be.
“Oh you poor thing! You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.” She giggled and Mr. Munson smiled at her in a way where she knew he was only teasing. Amanda could see Mr. Harrington roll his eyes but smile, as Mr. Munson grabbed the speaker that was on his table. He pulled it closer to the front of the table so she could hear the music playing better. Mr. Munson looked around quickly before whispering to Amanda. “You won’t tell anyone if this song says any bad words will you,” His questioning gaze turned into a devilish grin when Amanda smiled and shook her head. “I knew there was a reason you were his favorite” Her feet tapped in excitement as she glanced quickly to her teacher.
Mr. Munson turns the music up slightly and lets the heavy bass and electric guitar fill the air around them.
“That is my band's latest single, ‘Trials’. It’s about some stuff that your teacher and I went through back in high school.” He said.
“You guys knew each other in high school?” Amanda asked, bewildered. How did her polo-wearing, mr. popular, not a hair out of place history teacher become friends with a man so completely different from him?
“Well we knew of each other in high school, we were friends in middle school for a little while. We reconnected around this time of my senior year. 1986, can you believe that was 10 years ago, Stevie?” Where had she heard that before? Where did she know this man from? She can’t recall ever seeing him before, so why do his words sound so familiar? Amanda pushed those questions out of her head, and instead decided to ask him questions about his work since that is what he was there for.
“Do all the inspirations for your songs come from your life? How do you not run out of things to write about?” Amanda asked.
“What a wonderful question, Red. I do get a lot of inspiration from my real life. Take this weekend for example, Me and Mr. Harrington—or Mr.Harrington and I, Miss O’Donnell would kill me if she heard me say that.” Mr. Munson said that last part to Mr. Harrington before he turned back to Amanda. “Like I was saying, Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends. I got some inspiration from that experience to write about reminiscing on good times. The song that just played for you right now, is also about the past but it’s about how the past changes us today. So while I may use the same base for songs,...”
Amanda started to lose focus as Mr. Munson explained his songwriting process. Mr. Harrington also said he was at Lovers’ Lake with his partner and that he met up with old friends this weekend. She understood them hanging out as old friends, they knew each other since middle school apparently. But how could Mr. Munson have been at Lovers’ Lake too?
Amanda looks at Mr. Harrington, opening her mouth to ask a question when she stops herself. Mr. Harrington. That’s who she’s heard this from before. She looked back at the tickets on the table. “Corroded Coffin” She realizes that’s the band he was talking about that one day. She runs her entire conversation with Mr. Munson back in her mind matching it to the things she heard Mr. Harrington say in class.
‘’The last cat was named Abba because I occasionally play them and my partner loves to tease me for it. Says I need to be introduced to ‘real music’”
“You’re a lost little sheep, just like Stevie here. He only listens to whatever’s on the top 40. AKA, Not. Real. Music.”
“We reconnected during the whole fighting monsters thing after high school.”
“We reconnected around this time of my senior year.”
“Stevie and I went out to the lake and afterwards we got to meet up with some of our old friends.”
“I went down to Lovers Lake with my partner…We also saw some of our friends from back in the day.”
Amanda looked away from the table, looking between both Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington was watching Mr. Munson as he explained something Amanda wasn't paying much attention to with rapt fascination. His eyes were soft and his smile was adoring. His arms were crossed casually across his chest and he leaned slightly toward Mr. Munson, like the musician had a magnetic pull on him.
Like Mr. Munson was the center of his universe.
Amanda gasped loudly, effectively cutting off Mr. Munson’s spiel and drawing attention from a few of the neighboring tables. They all turned away when Amanda’s face broke into a wide grin, assuming her gasp was from excitement. Both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson were staring at Amanda with confusion on their faces.
“Are you…okay, Red?” Mr. Munson asked as he stepped backwards to inspect Amanda, consequently getting into Mr. Harrington’s personal space. Her history teacher didn’t budge when there were only a mere few inches separating them. She peeked around them, searching for Lj and finding her talking to Gerald in front of the lawyers table. She turned back to the two men in front of her and kept her voice low when she spoke.
“Mr. Harrington doesn’t have a wife,” She paused for dramatic effect, something she learned from Mary, and let the two men share a glance before looking back to her. “He has a husband.” She clapped her hands, excited by her discovery. It all made sense now. Realization washed over both Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson. They looked at each other, Mr. Munson pursing his lips to suppress a smile and Mr. Harrington with both hands on his hips and an exasperated look on his face.
“How did you piece that together from my presentation?” Mr. Munson asked, head tilted in amusement.
“It wasn’t your presentation, it was the stuff you said before you started talking about the music. Mr. Harrington talks about you all the time in class. The stuff you said right now matched up to what Mr. Harrington said before and all the signs, the poster, ‘People like us...It just clicked right now. What all that meant.” Amanda said, hands waving wildly in front of her. They froze mid-air when another realization washed over her. Her eyebrows knit up in confusion as she looked Mr. Munson over once more.
“You…with the tattoos, and the rings, and the chains, and the all black clothes…adopted three kittens? And you iron Mr. Harrington’s clothes every morning? And planned a picnic out on Lovers’ Lake? You taught Mr. Munson to make little origamis? Made him a flower crown? That was you? But you look so…” Amanda paused looking for the words. Mr. Munson glanced over his shoulder at Mr. Harrington with the widest grin she’d ever seen. “You look so, not the type.”
“I told you all those years ago, Stevie. Forced conformity. It’s killing the kids.” He turned back to Amanda. “It’s 1995 Little Red, people are so much more than their stereotypes.”
Amanda stared at Mr. Munson, soaking in all the new information, when another question popped in her mind.
“Wait. If you’re both boys, how did you get married?” She kept her voice low, so the other tables wouldn’t over hear her. Mr. Munson crouched down to Amanda’s level.
“Well, to the government, marriage is a piece of paper saying ‘This is who I chose!’. And tax benefits. We didn't need a piece of paper and a big fancy party, though we did have one, to say that we chose each other for life. I love him. And the government doesn’t get to tell me if that’s okay or not, it is okay.” Mr. Munson then looked up at Mr. Harrington from his spot on the floor. They shared a look, one that said a million more words than they’d be allowed in such a public place.
Amanda looked away from them, the connection between the two becoming almost suffocating. It was so surreal to be standing in front of two people who understood what she was going through. They went through it already and came out the other end. They were living breathing proof that it’s not always this hard, and it’s not always this confusing. That one day you’ll be able to wake up every morning next to the love of your life, no matter their gender. You’ll get to visit your favorite spots from your childhood as you grow old together. That we get a fancy wedding and the promise to be together forever too. They were proof that our fate isn’t subject to becoming a forgotten name in the newspaper for a case the police won’t try to solve. People like us, get to have our happily ever after, and Amanda was looking right at one. She couldn’t quite put into words what that meant to her.
On top of that, Mr. Munson wasn’t anything like she’d expected. Besides the fact that she was expecting a woman up until yesterday, he wasn’t anything like she expected for someone who presented themself like he did. He was kind and gentle while being loud and dramatic. He picked flowers for his husband with the same hands he used to shred electric guitar. He was unapologetically himself, even if that confused some people. Amanda looked forward to the day she could say the same about herself.
Mr. Harrington offered Mr. Munson a hand, and helped him off the floor when Lj approached the table.
“There you are Amy, I was wondering where you went,” Lj immediately reached for Amanda’s hand and interlocked their fingers, like she couldn't go another second without touching Amanda. Mr. Munson offered a small, knowing smile. “Are you done here? I heard the veterinary table is giving out cookies shaped like dinosaurs!”
Amanda looked away from Lj and back up at Mr. Munson and Mr. Harrington.
“After the promotion ceremony, and we’re officially high schoolers…am I still allowed to come back and say hi?” Amanda asked. Sure, it was only October but Mr. Harrington had already changed her life in such an irrevocable way. When she gets her first girlfriend or when she moves away to find people who are like her, it’ll be because Mr. Harrington was the first person who told her that it was okay and that she wasn’t alone.
“Of course, Amanda. Come back anytime! I’d love to hear about how high school goes for you. Even beyond that!” Mr. Harrington said. They shared a smile, and she let Lj pull her away.
“So you talk about me in class all the time, huh?” Mr. Munson teased as Amanda walked away.
“Go back on tour,” was her teacher's reply.
—
I don't know if i really have the words to explain what this fic means to me and how cathartic it was to write. Thank you for reading <3
#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#stranger things#stranger things fic#steve harrington fic#eddie munson fic#steddie fic#steve/eddie#steve x eddie#steddie stranger things#st#plu#100#1k#oc#ducky writes
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aevallare's bg3 masterlist wahoo
what's up. i'm aevallare. you might know me as an idiot. here are some of my links.
ao3 || ko-fi || carrd
here are my bg3 fics beneath the read more. these are all available on my ao3, linked above. sorry about the white boy of the century.
power decides (conscript 38/astarion)
gossamer (ongoing) - post-game. previously unromanced ascendant astarion. changeling tav.
Her eyes flicker from brown to blue.
"Oh, Astarion. Why do you feel the need to control something you already own?"
we can live forever if you've got the time (auri/astarion)
kindred (ongoing) - the og. the flagship. bg3, the remix.
auri knows people, and that's how she can tell; astarion is deeply, deeply fucked up.
pour one out (ongoing) - modern reincarnation au.
astarion's immortal. auri is decidedly not. but she's always had a way of doing the impossible.
inevitable (complete, 2102 words) - pwp two-shot. tadpole phone sex.
if she closes her eyes, she’s almost sitting in his lap again.
vow (complete, 5217 words) - pwp one-shot. menstruation kink.
when she’d helped astarion ascend, it had seemed like the right choice for a multitude of reasons.
excuses (complete, 4424 words) - pwp one-shot. sex pollen.
“Astarion, please.” Again, Auri begs. “Something was wrong with that meat I ate. It feels infernal. Everything’s so warm. I can't–”
infinite duress (complete, 2572 words) - pwp one-shot. bratty switch fic.
Astarion’s often the one in charge, but he’s been known to press his luck on occasion. If the tadpole still connected them, he knows exactly what Auri would say as he steps closer to Halsin.
Brat.
honeysuckle and fresh meat (shadowheart/auri/astarion)
oneiric (complete, 7866 words) - pwp one-shot. sub!shadowheart + sub!astarion.
Shadowheart snorts. Auri can't stop thinking about what Astarion said in bed the other night. She says, “The problem is that I have trouble letting go of control with people that I don't trust. And people that I trust are few and far between.”
Astarion smirks. “Yes, I can see how that would be difficult. I tend to be the one doing the controlling, if we can call it that, but letting it go can be just as…” Astarion trails off as if searching for the perfect word. “Fulfilling.”
green-eyed (complete, 2427 words) - pwp one-shot. valentine's day cuckfic.
All sex before was mediocre compared to this. Shadowheart wants for nothing.
Well. Almost nothing.
verdant (aeva/halsin)
impractical (complete, 1200 words) - one-shot.
His savior was a half-drow, as he’d later learn, but there hadn’t been time to reprimand himself for his prejudices. She’d slain his captors with relative ease, assisted by a human warlock, a half-elf Sharran, and a raging tiefling, and when he’d said he couldn’t possibly leave this place without removing the goblin leaders from the equation, she’d tilted her head to the side.
“We disposed of them before we found you.”
adjustments (complete, 1011 words) - one-shot.
The Underdark is beautiful in its own way, but it’s difficult for Aeva to divorce its aesthetic from the realities of living there. She’d been forced to claw her way out from destitution so often that it might as well have torn the nails from her fingers, and if desperation was currency, she would have wanted for nothing.
vital (complete, 1384 words) - one-shot.
Halsin’s dangerous in an unusual way. Being near him makes Aeva feel secure, and that’s never ended pleasantly. A tenday ago, she would have ignored his question outright.
He doesn’t press her for anything else, and for some reason, that loosens Aeva’s lips more.
old habits (complete, 1545 words) - one-shot.
Death to slavers always. That much will never change.
faithless (wyll/nora/astarion)
acumen (complete, 984 words) - one-shot.
Wyll likes to believe that everyone is doing the best they can.
bluster (wisp/gale)
tailwind (complete, 1670 words) - one-shot.
Wisp is loud, obnoxious, and concerned with little but joy and adventure. Stealth eludes her entirely, she’s constantly talking about how she’d feel better if they were on a ship, she never stops talking about how much she misses sailing and the sea, and she’s purported to be a cleric, but Gale has yet to see anything holy about her.
assorted one-shots
hearth (complete, 602 words) - shadowheart/karlach one-shot.
It’s cold tonight. Baldur’s Gate buzzes in the distance, and it’s hard to say what waits for them there. They’ve all still got parasites in their heads, there are two Chosen left, and Shadowheart’s renounced the only thing she knows.
cursed (complete, 1124 words) - gale/astarion one-shot.
When Gale Dekarios was born, there were whispers that he was cursed.
hypotheticals (complete, 542 words) - wyll/astarion one-shot.
in another life, a lot of things could have been different.
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So over the past few weeks, I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a retelling of the OG series from Annabeth’s perspective.
I’m interested in doing this because though I loved the PJO when I was a child, as I grow older, I find myself craving more nuance from the stories and the characters than what’s already there on the page. I thought hopefully the show would fulfill me, but uhh….amazing character depth is not one of the things I’d call the show’s biggest strong suits, at least not for Annabeth.
Now, I’m aware of the “Daughter of Wisdom” series on AO3, a fanfic series that does the exact same thing. I read that fic years ago and enjoyed it; I thought at the time that the fic was well done. However, I have a lot of ideas for scenes and details that I don’t think really showed up in that fic series, and so I find myself craving to create the POV for Annabeth and certain aspects of CHB that I’ve always wanted to see. I also wanted to spend more time emphasizing emotions and growth for Annabeth in a fic like this, and actually have her challenge and address her pride, sort of like a “I’m overcoming my biggest flaw” journey. I want to write this series from a sympathetic yet honest perspective about Annabeth’s life and her traits…including the traits that are not so pretty.
And so I want input from y’all on what you think would be worth including in a fic like this, and if there’s anything from the OG books that I should change, twist, replace, remove, deepen, or add something new. Here’s a list I already have going:
- emphasis on Annabeth’s relationship with Chiron and how it develops
- more emphasis on Annabeth’s relationship with Grover and how they get along when Percy isn’t there. Do they talk about Percy? And what do they think of each other? Does Grover feel intimidated by Annabeth, or feel like maybe she’s not proud of him because he let her down with the Cyclops incident and Thalia getting killed? Maybe at the end of the quest in TLT, before Percy gets back from Olympus, Annabeth reassures Grover that he’s a great protector and that she doesn’t resent him at all.
- Annabeth’s view of Luke and how/why it becomes complicated; how Annabeth reconciles the objectively bad things Luke has done with her desire for his redemption
- an emphasis on Annabeth and Thalia’s relationship after Thalia returns. How has it changed, Thalia remarking on Annabeth’s growth and teasing her about her crush on Percy, Annabeth helping Thalia cope with the loss of Luke to the “dark side” and also helping Thalia cope with how much the world has changed in 5 years and how Thalia now feels so out of place, Thalia helping Annabeth cope with continuous family struggles
- an emphasis on Annabeth’s relationship with other Athena children. Do they like each other? Hate each other? Are they competitive, all vying for their mom’s attention? Do they share some of Annabeth’s struggles; were their mortal parents also unimpressed about receiving a child they didn’t plan for?
- Annabeth’s relationship with other kids at camp: namely Clarisse, Silena, Beckendorf, and the Stoll Brothers (no, I don’t ship Connabeth, btw). But I also want to flesh out Katie Gardner and Pollux/Castor too.
- a proper resolution to Annabeth’s family drama that yes, recognizes how Frederick had a baby sprung on him that he didnt consent to, and how Mrs. Chase had no idea how to take care of a kid with special needs, but a resolution that also validates Annabeth’s feelings and highlights the ways in which Mr. and Mrs. Chase messed up and failed her with their poor choices.
- a new interpretation of Luke’s “did you love me”question
- An on-page apology from Annabeth to Rachel
- Annabeth’s relationship with her little brothers and how they might still try to love each other in context of their family drama, and not repeat the sins of their parents (breaking generational curses!)
- more emphasis on Annabeth and Athena’s relationship, and how Annabeth evolves from thinking her mother is this image of perfection, to realizing that Athena is just as faulty as the other gods and goddesses, and that Annabeth has a strength over Athena in that Annabeth has a bigger sense of humanity, and can change and adapt when she’s not doing something well. Annabeth can evolve in ways Athena cannot.
Anything else?
#rick riordan#annabeth chase#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo hoo toa#heroes of olympus#percabeth#thalia grace#luke castellan#grover underwood#the lightning thief#anti annabeth chase#anti percabeth
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Before I send my request your way lemme tell you how much I loved reading your recent Sanji Fics!! I enjoyed them a lot!!
And as for a request, I don't have anything specific but a vague scenario in my head. The strawhats dock at a lone mysterious island. And they as usual disperse off to do their own things when Sanji happens to stumble upon the reader. Perhaps caught in some trouble, going around with a hidden identity? I'm sorry this is cringe. But it's been in my head for a while now. Whether this ends up interesting you or not, I just wanted you to know, it's been a lot of fun reading you! Have a good day! Or night :D
Unfortunate Encounters | Sanji x Reader
Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader
Word Count: 5,997 (that's practically 6k)
Genre: Light Fluff, more Angst, happy ending ofc!
Warnings: Plot heavy, light swearing. Slightly ooc crew maybe? I'm still new to writing for OP, please excuse any mistakes!
A/n: First off, thank you so much for the sweet words anon ;-; they really made my day <3 As for the request, this was not cringe at all!! I got super into it and I had like 3-4 mental drafts of how this fic could go (the og ending was even more angsty lol, but I decided to cut back...) I may have focused too much on the 'lone, mysterious island' part because this was more plot heavy than romantic. The inner plot writer in me emerged because of your prompt; I'm not a romance writer so I struggle with that in this fic >< However, I did enjoy writing it so I hope you enjoy this one too! Thanks for sending such a fun request ❤️
also available on ao3!
The log pose had brought them to another island, but even before they had touched down, Sanji could feel something was up with it. The island just gave off some vibes he couldn't place and he wasn't one to chalk it off to a mistake. His intuition told him something was going to happen here.
"There doesn't seem to be a town here," Nami frowned, looking at the island. All they could see for miles and miles was a dense tropical forest, with trees that seemed larger than their usual size. When they got off the Thousand Sunny, Sanji realised that it was too silent. There were no sounds of birds or any animals that he could hear from the shoreline. "Be careful, guys."
They decided to separate and cover the island quicker. The log pose needed time to reset and it was a curious little island anyway. They could cover it within a day, maximum. Something in Sanji's gut twisted in protest but until he could explain it, there was no way he could stop the chaotic crew. So he let it be and started hacking a path to somewhere.
The trees were dense and the forest was dark, lit up on random intervals by sudden sunbeams that looked like nature's spotlights. Sanji hummed to himself as he studied the plants around him. He walked for a while, noting all the things he could use but not picking anything because the island just rubbed him off the wrong way. It felt dangerous to pick any part of it.
Sanji walked for a while, pausing only when he felt he had heard something – something that sounded like a rustle of leaves, but he couldn't sense a person. He couldn't sense anything but the wind, a gentle breeze drifting through the trees. Strangely, he had not yet come across any of the other Straw Hats either, even though he had been walking for well over an hour and the island wasn't that big in the first place.
There was another rustling, but this time, Sanji could feel a presence. Multiple ones, to be precise. He tensed and cautiously moved aside the curtain of vines blocking his views. The clearing revealed in front of him shocked him– it was like all the animals of the entire island had gathered in one place. And they were all looking at something that he couldn't see.
The moment he stepped in, the animals all turned to him, some of them baring teeth or growling and it was so much sound after so much silence that even Sanji couldn't help the shiver running along his back. A human shout of, "It's okay guys! I'm okay now!" distracted the animals and they turned back to whatever– or rather, whoever, they had been looking at.
Sanji held back, not quite sure what to make of the whole situation, until he heard a barely audible, "Disperse."
Almost like a flip was switched, the animals scattered and Sanji was left incredulously staring at the vines in the middle of the clearing, from where a figure gracefully jumped down. You straightened up and patted at your hair to check for any stray leaves or twigs before you walked over to him.
"An intruder?" You asked, smiling amusedly. "Been a while since we had one."
"That's a harsh word, beautiful," Sanji couldn't hold himself back from calling you that way, after he had gotten over his shock enough to note your features.
"Would you prefer 'uninvited guest'?" You cocked an eyebrow, not cutting eye contact as you straightened out your clothes.
"Ah, you hurt my poor heart," he said, a little bit dramatically as he leaned closer but still at a respectable distance. "Am I unwelcome in your home, goddess of these woods?"
"Wh-?" You couldn't help the chuckle that left your lips at his words. "You're quite something, alright. And as fun as you are, you really are unwelcome here, sorry."
"Why?" Sanji asked curiously. The entire experience felt like some weird fever dream to him, and he couldn't quite make head or tails of anything that was happening but the one thing he was sure of was that there was something about you that piqued his curiosity in all the ways.
"You can't stay on this island," you shrugged and walked past him, expecting him to follow you. Sanji did not fail, falling in step behind you as you started walking somewhere. "2 days, that's all you get. Any longer and… well, it's better if you don't find out."
"Alright, then I guess I'll let my crew know," Sanji sighed, figuring he wasn't getting any more out of you after seeing your guarded expression. The moment he finished his sentence though, you froze in your step and turned around to face him in horror.
"Did you just say… crew?" Your voice sounded a little hoarse and Sanji paused, looking at you in concern. "Please tell me your crew is not on the island."
"If I said that, it would be a lie, sweetheart," Sanji's brows furrowed even as he said it. Something was wrong. Your expression melted into one of full-blown panic, anger and horror.
"Not again!" You cried, burying your face in your hands.
"What's wrong?" Sanji would really, really like some answers today. The entire day had been confusing and eerie vibes and the growing chill in his stomach was now an unnecessary addition.
"What's wrong," you snapped, looking wild and terrified for a second, "is that your entire crew is fucking loose on a cursed island! If they do not get off this island in 3 nights, they will turn into animals and never, ever turn back to humans."
Sanji just stared at you for a few seconds before he dropped the unlit cigarette he had pulled out of his pocket. You were pacing around in circles and he had so many questions that he didn't even know where to begin.
"Then I'll just tell them when we all meet back?" He said unsurely except you turned to face him with eyes full of unshed tears.
"That's a great plan," you said a little sarcastically, "except for the part where this island is cursed and anyone who isn't an animal can't find their way out. Ever. They literally cannot find the way back on their own."
Sanji's jaw dropped. He stared back at you in equal parts horror.
"This has to be the Moss Head's curse spreading," he whispered to himself.
Half an hour later, the two of you were making your way through the dense foliage, exchanging questions and answers– although Sanji was the one doing the asking the most.
You had calmed down after finding out that the crew only had 9 members. You could probably find 8 people in less than 3 days. The island wasn't that big.
Sanji's first question was about how you weren't affected by the curse.
"Because I'm not fully human," you had replied off-handedly and not offered more. It only added to your mystery but despite all your secrets, Sanji could somehow feel inside him that you weren't a bad person. You were going out of your way to help out so that their crew won't turn into animals– if the curse didn't affect you, then you could have very well done nothing.
Then he asked about the other things on his mind. Were the animals in the forest also humans? To his horror, you had replied with a sad yes.
"The log pose doesn't take pirates to this island much," you had explained as you expertly and gracefully made your way over the thorny plants and overgrown roots. Your movement was almost like a mystical dance and Sanji couldn't take his eyes off of it, thankful that you were walking in front of him and couldn't see his ogling. "It's rare but it happens sometimes. Mostly single man boats tossed through storms end up here, but there's been two small crews who came here after me. There were already some animals on the island before though, and I'm pretty sure they were once humans too."
"And there's no cure for this?" Sanji swallowed, his heart hammering from a weird mix of fear, nervousness and excitement.
"Nothing as far as I know," you confirmed, pausing to close your eyes and feel something. "That direction, I can sense someone."
You ran over without waiting for Sanji and he was left to catch up by taking long strides. Before he could show himself though, he felt the presence close in on you and automatically moved in to defend you. His boots rammed against the blunt hilt of a familiar katana.
"Love cook?" Zoro's eyes widened in surprise and he immediately tucked his swords back in. Sanji ignored him in favour of ensuring that you were okay. He found you staring behind him curiously at Zoro, as if the swordsman fascinated you. It didn't mean anything, but it left him feeling a little irritated at Zoro. "Who's this?"
"Um." Sanji realised he had never asked you for your name. Or given you his.
"Inconsequential," you waved it off. "It's not like we're to know each other longer than a day or two. Let's just go and search for the rest. Blondie here can explain everything to you on the way."
"Sanji," he blurted out, reeling back when he saw your surprised face. "Forgive my insolence, sweetheart. I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Vimsoke Sanji."
"Well, Sanji," you smiled at him, already walking like you knew where you were going, "get your friend to join us and follow me."
Gladly, his heart answered for him.
✿
You knew this was a mistake. It never ended well when you met other people and liked them. And as you collected more of the Straw Hats, you couldn't help but like them all more and more. You knew this was a mistake, but you couldn't bring yourself to regret it because you knew that if you didn't help them, they would be cursed too.
You had eventually acquiesced and given them your first name, careful not to offer your last name in case any of them recognised you. Zoro seemed to be staring at you quite frequently, but maybe it was just a Straw Hat thing? Sanji had been staring at you the whole time too. Or maybe you looked hideous and they were all politely staying quiet. You didn't quite know, but the thought of looking terrible in front of them (in front of that beautiful blonde boy) was a little mortifying to you.
All those thoughts took a backseat though, because you were on a mission. By the time evening rolled around and the sky had turned to pitch black darkness, you had found a cyborg and a rubber man called Luffy, who was the captain of the ship. He didn't really feel like a captain, or somebody who commanded everyone, but the Straw Hats didn't seem like a typical group of people. They were… unique.
"Let's stop for tonight," you said after assessing the darkness. Of course, you could see everything clearly even in the darkness, but they didn't need to know that. The less they knew about you…
"Shouldn't we keep going?" Zoro asked, looking around.
"Trust me, we're better off waiting the night out," you answered, already settling into the clearing for the night. You had to get a fire going and find food and there were things to be done.
"So I can't eat the animals?" Luffy pouted for the fifth time, asking the same question.
"No, Luffy," you sighed, waving a stick at him. "They might look like animals, but they are people. Please don't kill them or try to eat them."
"They won't attack our crewmates, would they?" Sanji asked, looking worried. You finally managed to light a fire and carefully structured a ring of stones around it to ensure it won't get out before answering.
"The curse lets them have their brain for most of the time," you fidgeted on the spot. "But sometimes, if you harm them, or if they get really hungry, or, y'know… their animal instincts kick in and then they are more animal than human. But it's rare, and won't happen if you don't harm their survival."
The crew fell silent and you watched them whisper amongst themselves a bit. They probably wanted to talk things out, so you got up and said you would go grab something to eat.
"Please don't leave this clearing," you warned them as you walked away. "Finding you again would be so much trouble."
You heard footsteps following you though and turned around to find Sanji trailing behind you.
"Sanji?" You asked, confused. His tall, lanky figure in the forefront of the golden orange light spilling from the fire you started was a picturesque scenery that left your heart thumping a little louder than usual.
"Would you be okay with some company?" He asked quietly. "I'm a chef, so I could probably help you gather some food."
"Alright," you nodded. The two of you walked a while in silence until you found the spot where there were a bunch of large fruits and flowers that you started gathering. Sanji observed what you collected in the little moonlight that was shining through the trees, but you could see him struggling.
"You can see in the dark?" He asked after a beat of silence.
"Mm," you were exhausted from the day. Lying and avoiding things was tiring as it is, and you really weren't in the mood to play the game. If Sanji knew who you were… would it really be that bad? He had been kind so far, always at a respectable distance but with honeyed sweet words that tugged at your heartstrings. You had never had anyone flirt with you, but Sanji was the first. And it left you feeling giddy and warm, the attention he gave you without losing any of the respect and your need for secrecy. If he knew… would he hate you?
Sanji didn't say anything for a while, just offered up his arms for you to stack all the food you had collected.
"Who else is remaining?" You asked, finding the silence was eating at your insides. You had spent so long in silence. And now that you had people around again, you wanted to make the most of it before they had to leave. Just for a while, you could forget and pretend that you're one of them. Just for a while.
"Nami-san, Robin-san," Sanji said, "Brook and Chopper. Wait, Chopper!"
Sanji clapped his hands like he had just thought of something. You looked at him curiously.
"Chopper is a reindeer," Sanji said hurriedly.
"You have a reindeer in your crew…?" You were confused. The Straw Hats were definitely one of a kind, alright.
"He ate the Hito Hito no Mi so he can talk and walk," Sanji explained. "He's our doctor but that's not important right now. He's an animal, right? So he wouldn't be affected by the curse?"
"Highly likely that he isn't," you confirmed.
"Which means he must be the only one back on the ship," Sanji murmured to himself. That's one person (animal?) less to search for, you mused. "He must be scared."
"I hope he's okay," you said quietly. The animals on the island knew each other well. If Chopper ran into them… You didn't really know what would happen. Animals could be scary when they were territorial.
The two of you finished collecting as much as you could carry and walked back, and you asked Sanji to tell you about their adventures. He indulged you, colouring a vivid and humorous picture of the crew in the short while it took you two to get back.
You came back to find Zoro sleeping on his side while Luffy was springing around in the clearing, howling about being hungry and crying for Sanji. Franky sat against a tree, fiddling with something on his body that you didn't wait to see despite your curiosity.
As Sanji started portioning the food to serve to everyone, you stood back and watched the crew interact quietly. It was strange, how at home you felt with them despite not knowing them– but you attributed it to your loneliness.
Even if you wanted to be one of them, you could never curse them like that.
The next morning, you found Nami at the top of a tree. You had seen her when gathering some flowers for breakfast, asleep. You decided to get Sanji to recognise her before you woke her up and got her down. Seeing Sanji fawn and fret over her made you insanely jealous; but you forced it down under a smile and led them back to the camp that had already been cleared up.
You gave the crew a few minutes to catch up and celebrate before you started the search again.
"So…" you searched for a topic as the six of you trudged through the forest. "A reindeer, a cyborg, a gum man, an ex-pirate hunter… Who should I expect next?"
"A skeleton!" Luffy excitedly yelled as he swung past you on the vines, nearly making you stumble from the shock.
"A… what?!" You turned to stare at Sanji in shock, who just smiled softly and shrugged.
"Brook is…" he explained the whole story without getting tired and you couldn't help but be fascinated by everything. The more you learned about them, the more they intrigued you, the more you wanted to beg them to let you join them. But you didn't let those thoughts come to life in words, just helping them find the said skeleton from where he was surrounded by some of the island's animals growling at him.
"Down, guys," you shouted and the animals immediately backed off, all staring at you with innocent eyes that made you huff in laughter. "Don't pull that on me, I just saw you. I know you mean well but it's a little scary when you're surrounded by animals."
One of the deer whined and bumped its snout into your hand. You could feel the Straw Hats staring as you petted it and whispered it to leave the skeleton to you. When the animals had dispersed, you shot a grin at Brook.
"Hi there!" You held out a hand, "It's my first time meeting a skeleton!"
Once the pleasantries were out of the way, you started covering the northern part of the island. It was the only place remaining, aside from the centre. You found Usopp and Chopper there, the two of them hugging each other and bawling.
As it turned out, Chopper had in fact gone back after finding nothing on the island only to find out that no one else had returned. So he had stayed the night in the ship and then came back in search of the others even though he was scared.
"That was very brave of you," you patted him on the head. The reindeer blushed and glared at you.
"I'm not pleased by that at all!!" So he said, but you could see the smile on his face. With almost all of them collected, you started your way to the centre of the island when you heard the clouds rumble.
The sky was full of grey clouds and you were ready for rain, since this was the season on the island.
"There's an underground cave near here," you told the crew as you led them through the thick canopy of trees. "I usually go there when it rains so let's wait it out before we search for… Robin, was it?"
Zoro grumbled something about constant waiting but you chose to ignore it. You knew this island better than any of them. Rains were harsh and the droplets were like bullets on the skin. You couldn't find Robin on the way to the cave but when you reached its opening which looked like a hole in the ground, surrounded by overgrown grass, you felt a presence inside.
The last Straw Hat member was inside the cave, much to all of your relief. This time, you truly stepped back and let the crew reunite, feeling like a true outcast for the first time. Your time together with them was over. Once the rain was gone, they would be out of here and you would be alone again.
Except Sanji turned to you and offered you his hand to invite you into their awkward group hug that Usopp had initiated. You didn't want to intrude but they all looked at you with similar grins and smiles and you couldn't hold it back. You joined them, savouring your first hug in years.
✿
As it turned out, the runes you had found on one of the walls of the cave actually had some sort of meaning that Robin had been able to decipher in the while she had spent in the cave. She had apparently found the cave the previous night and stayed in, then worked on the runes in the morning when she found them.
"It's about a curse on this island," she explained. "Like (y/n) already told us, if anyone spends 3 nights on this island, it turns them into an animal forever. There's a piece of it missing at the end, but the last line says 'the answer lies in the satisfaction of life and a prayer answered'."
"What does that mean?" you asked, confused.
"I'm not really sure," she admitted, running her fingers over the runes. The whole crew mulled over the words as you waited for the rain to stop. You didn't join into the conversation, just letting your mind work quietly with their suggestions as background.
Satisfaction in life… A prayer answered… None of it seemed to make sense. The Straw Hats didn't need to help the animals out, but they were still trying to figure it out. The crew was clearly good at heart and you were glad that you helped them out, even though you would only be left with hurt after they were gone. That pain was worth it.
A squirrel scampered up to you while you listened; the rain outside seemed to be slowing down. You knew the squirrel was the girl around your age who had ended up on the island after a shipwreck. You scooped her up and let her sit on your hand, where she tried to shake off the water from her soaking body. The water sprinkled onto you and you let out a fake indignant "hey!" that made her laugh. Not that you had ever seen squirrels laugh, but you could always understand the animals on the island.
"We found something here," you said quietly to her, bringing her close to wipe off some of the water from her body. "It could be an answer to turning you all back to humans."
She tilted her head and stared at you.
"But none of us understand the riddle," you continued, feeling apologetic to them. You had been the only person on the island who was unaffected by the curse, so you felt like it was somehow your responsibility to help them all turn back. And yet, you had failed at that over and over again. Saira, as the girl's name had been, simply shook her squirrel head and placed a tiny paw on your chest where you had tucked her close.
"It's alright," you could hear her saying in your head. To the others, it probably sounded like a bunch of squeaks. "It's not that bad. I long gave up hope of turning back. Being a squirrel is not that bad. Being able to spend everyday with you who looks out for all of us… I'm happy. All of us are."
Your chest swelled with the emotions and for the first time in a long while, tears streamed down your cheeks. You had held it all in for so long, not wanting to burden the helpless creatures that always kept you company. But knowing their faith in and love for you made your insides warm.
"All we want is for you to be happy too," Saira continued, turning her head to look at the crew. You glanced at them, noticing that Sanji was looking over at you two. "I know you. Go with them."
"I can't," you said in a choked whisper. "Even if they let me, I can't do that to them. I'm not… I'm a curse, Saira. I can't risk it."
The squirrel looked at you helplessly as you cried a little more. Eventually, you wiped away the tears and let your eyes shut to listen to the pitter patter of rain outside. Saira scrambled off your body and over to Sanji, who had watched you the whole while but hadn't heard what you had said.
When you opened your eyes, the rain had stopped. You looked around blearily, and found the Straw Hats all lying around, looking upset.
"You guys should have woken me up when the rain stopped," you said, rubbing your face as you stood up. "Come on, you must be missing your ship, yeah?"
"(Y/n)," Sanji started, looking a little nervous. You looked at him quizzically, but Zoro spoke up before he could say what he wanted.
"Or should we say Kuroneko no (Y/n)?" The familiar words made you freeze in horror. "Harbinger of Death? A 30 million bellies bounty."
"That's…" You took an involuntary step back, bumping into the cave wall. They knew. They knew the secret you had tried so hard to hide. They knew… and they were still looking at you with badly hidden curiosity and grins. None of them looked scared, or upset anymore, like they had been when you were asleep. "I'm… I don't want to lie. That's me. But I swear, I'm not going to do anything. I mean, I don't even actually do anything, all of those incidents just happened–"
"(Y/n)," Sanji placed a hand atop your head, effectively stopping your rambling. You looked up at him, afraid to see him look at you differently, but if anything, his eyes had only become softer. "It's okay. I wish you had told us before, but we get it."
"You do…?" Somehow, it felt too good to be true. People were usually upset when others lied and kept secrets. The secret of who you were could essentially have been a matter of life or death. Kuroneko no (y/n), or rather, Black Cat (y/n) was a name based on your Devil Fruit powers that let you turn into a cat. But they were also a result of you being the only survivor in 4 separate incidents– the annihilation of your home island, the mass genocide in a war town country and the two small crews you had once been a part of. Every single time, all the people had died and you were the only one alive left behind. You had never belonged anywhere, so how could you believe now would be any different?
"It must have been very lonely," Robin's sorrowful eyes reflected that she understood you on some level. You didn't know what to think or feel, unwilling to let yourself hope for anything beyond acceptance.
"It was," you admitted, more to yourself than to them. You had never let yourself truly dwell on the thought, but you had been so, so lonely. "I won't stick around for long. I'll take you to your ship and you'll be free of this island's curse, and of my own. So if–"
"Your curse?" Sanji looked at you, confused.
"It's not exactly a curse," you hesitated, "but there's nothing else I can call it for why… the people I care for end up dead."
"That's not true," Luffy frowned, walking over to you. "Everyone here is still alive. Everyone on this island is alive, we are alive. You are not cursed."
"You were like a blessing in disguise," Usopp said from where he stood, not looking you in the eyes. "I was of course not afraid at all, considering my heavy list of achievements, but you brought us all back together."
"I'm…" you didn't know what to say, feeling overwhelmed.
"You're not cursed, sweetheart," Sanji gently held up your hand, squeezing it to comfort you. "You just had a string of… unfortunate events."
Sanji's struggle to find the right term made you let out a small giggle. Maybe you should extend a hand. Maybe this time…
"Maybe I'm not cursed?" You said hopefully, looking up into his clear blue eyes. Sanji nodded, carefully tucking back a lock of hair behind your ear. The action made you flush, suddenly realising the proximity you two were in.
A flash of light startled all of you and you turned around to find Saira, the human, standing in the place of where the squirrel was. The girl was staring at her own hands and body, like this was a dream. You blinked, unable to believe your eyes either.
Outside the cave, you could hear shouts. Human shouts.
"What just-?" You ran out to find the people who had been turned into animals were back to human. "How…"
"Satisfaction of life and a prayer answered," Robin's voice from behind you was startling. You turned to look at her, and she smiled down at you. "Perhaps the answer was just for the animals to be happy with who they are, with no regrets."
"Then… Then why didn't it change them back before?" You said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Perhaps their prayer wasn't answered back then," she placed a hand on your shoulder and patted it. Did she mean that it only happened now because your one wish through life had been answered? To be free of the curse you had…
With much enthusiasm, the crew got out of the underground cave and everyone was celebrating. The sight of everyone back made you feel like this was the happiest day of your life. You participated in it, letting yourself enjoy the moment without worrying or thinking of anything.
The sun was already setting when the party started and it went on for hours as everyone laughed and danced and ate. (If you were fascinated by how much Luffy could eat, you kept it to yourself to be polite.) It was probably getting close to midnight when Sanji sought you out to where you were sitting by yourself and just watching everyone with fond eyes.
He didn't say a word at first, just sat down next to you. At that distance, you could feel the warmth of his body and you subconsciously leaned closer to the source. For the first time in a long while, your heart felt at peace.
"How did you end up on this island?" Sanji's question made you look over at him. He wasn't demanding an answer, just looking down at you with deep blue eyes that seemed to flash golden as they reflected the bonfire.
"I was on the run from the Marines around a year ago," you hummed, feeling safe and comfortable enough in his presence to finally talk about yourself. After years of not being able to share anything with anyone, it felt freeing to tell him something even as simple as this. "I had just escaped the battle between the crew I was in and this one big pirate ship that I don't even remember anymore. I was wounded but I reached this island on a small boat somehow with a half broken log pose. I shifted into my cat form, which looks less like a cat and more like a black jaguar if anything, to ensure that no one recognised me– because my full transformation is not known by the Marines. I stayed in that form for quite a while, too scared and shaken at that time to turn back into human. Only after a few days of exploring the island did I realise there are no humans here.
"I thought… if there was any place I could not affect anyone with my curse, it would be here. Away from any humans who would get affected by it. At that time, I didn't know about the curse. Looking back on it, I suspect that maybe the curse never affected me because I was in my animal form for 3 nights. Or maybe it was just because that form is like my second skin. I was never disappointed or dissatisfied with it. I only found out about the curse after Saira came on the island and turned into a squirrel. And then two other pirate crews."
"That must have been hard for you," Sanji's voice was quiet but there was no way you could miss the low timbre of it over the excitement all around you. Not when it was the same voice that set your heart off; you wanted to hear everything he had to say. Wanted to know him more and more, as much as he would let you. "(Y/n)-chan."
"Mm?" You turned to look at him, breathless at the proximity from where you could no longer smell the perfume he smelled of the first time you met. The smell coming off him now was something purely him. It was a little intoxicating when coupled with the warm atmosphere and the gooey feeling in your stomach.
"Would you… like to join us?" Sanji seemed a little nervous asking you that. The question gobsmacked you and you stared at him. He… wanted you to join them? As a part of the crew? "I asked Luffy and he said that if you want it, then he's all for it."
"Sanji…" you bit your lower lip, unsure once again. Even though you felt free of the curse, the mentality couldn't be erased in a day. The what ifs, the fear, the apprehension was all still there. "What if we're wrong, though? What if I really am cursed and this has just been a really long build-up to something worse? I might be a risk to your–"
"You're not," Sanji interrupted you for the first time since you had met. The quiet but firm determination blazing in his eyes surprised you. "I believe in you. (Y/n)-chan, if you would let me, I would gladly prove it to you by staying by your side for the rest of your life. I'll stay alive and well, and show you that it's not your fault. I'll be by your side to the very end, so place your fears in my hands and… trust me on this, even if you don't trust anything else."
That little crush you had developed on him at the start seemed to blow up in that moment into a gigantic furnace of emotions. He was ready to take the risk of death, and saying every word with such sincerity that any inhibitions you had went out the window. You couldn't stop yourself from wanting him any longer– he was like the sun, taking your world by storm.
"Really?" You didn't realise when the tears started streaming down your face until his gentle hands came up to wipe them. "You'll stay?"
"I will," and that genuine sincerity was something you couldn't help but believe in. "I will be there for you, as long as you need me."
"Sanji." His name felt both urgent and at ease from your lips.
"(Y/n)-chan," he whispered, voice open and vulnerable again. "Do you… want to be a part of the Straw Hats?"
You swallowed and wondered if you really deserved this much happiness after everything. Yet the moment you looked into his eyes, you felt like there was nothing you could do but be a moth chasing the sun– running after something that you knew will only end up in flames.
"I do."
°•❀•°
#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece fanfic#one piece imagines#one piece sanji#op sanji#vinsmoke sanji#vinsmoke sanji x reader#sanji x reader#sanji fanfic#sanji#black leg sanji#angst with a happy ending#light fluff#plot heavy#or as heavy as it can get in a 6k fic
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I was reading discourse on achilles yesterday and I'm still thinking about some people calling him a r*pist and others saying that other books they've read that are from a woman's perspective completely shifted the perception they have of TSOA's Achilles. And to me that makes little to no sense.
Here's what I come from: Achilles is a character from the Illiad, and the poem itself is pretty much fanfiction. I mean, the person and warrior that Achilles is based on probably existed, and it might have been called Achilles even, but i think we all agree that the rest is dubious.
Since the illiad is like the OG story, people tend to look at it as if it's canon and we'll go with that logic. You have the canon work and poets go off on their own versions of these characters writing tragedies, more epics, thesis, all sorts of stuff, and it goes on for centuries until we reach The song of Achilles and Percy Jackson and all the other 100s retellings coming out which are fanfiction of fanfiction.
And you're letting one fanfiction distort another fanfiction? It's bonkers to me because as someone who has to read the classics and grew up on fanfiction, I don't see that happening elsewhere. Between academics, if we're discussing a myth, we mention the different versions, and we can choose one to go on from, sure. But even so, I never saw someone sound so affected by different perspectives on the same character in class.
And if we're talking on the world of street fanfiction, I most definitely don't find people going "Oh this fanfiction of hermione betraying the order and marrying voldmort changed my perspective of Harry Potter's hermione" you know? -- if that sounds like a stupid example, it's because it is. It's just to show that my whole point is that it's insane to me to let a book ruin another book when the authors are creating different versions of the same characters, which basically turns them into different characters with the same names. Especially since you know, it's all made up. And this isn't real criticism to the people forming their opinions or the authors, respect to all of them.
But it’s a little maddening watching people roll into arguments to discuss what piece of fiction is more real and relevant when they're all in the same level of glorified AO3 works.
I hope this makes sense to someone else
#greek myth retellings#classics#greek mythology#tsoa#tsoa achilles#ancient greek literature#fanfiction#achilles discourse#patrochilles#mention of abuse#literature#mine#percy jackson#the trojans#trojan war#the illiad#odysseus#patroclus#history
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famous au but um dumb
@cowboylexapro
if the poets were on social media and famous this is what they'd be known for
(age somewhere between 19-21)
todd
tumblr blog name: toad.anderson
ao3 name: toad.writes
he's technically anon but not rlly
sexiest tumblr account known to man - he's a fanfic writer and an au poster with some occasional og stuff that floods his inbox with asks begging him to publish his og work too - what fandom does he write for? all of them.
his bf proof reads them all even if he's never been in the fandom
he writes fics for his friends when they get famous
in between his novel worthy fanfics are shitty fics of his friends
his followers get rlly confused
he wrote a neil x reader fic until straight girls started claiming it and he took it down becuz the reader was him
todd on his blog: guyss… im so sorry but im taking the neil x reader fic down… im sorry if i offend anyone but the reader was me ❤️ not you - i don't like you all claiming it
after taking down the x reader, he does a neil x oc but the oc is him but with green eyes
neil, after the oc gets described: todd the only person im seeing is u tho 😦 and u have blue eyes
eventually his relationship with famous tiktoker neil perry gets revealed and ppl realize he's not just an obsessed fan
after neil says the thing blog: toad.anderson: guys my real name is todd anderson everyone: omg we wouldve never guessed
after neil and him go public and ppl dont believe that neil is gay he alternates between seething and writing neil fics and taking joy from neil's confusion
todd points out comments that are obviously thirsting over neil and neil still doesn't realize he's being thirsted over
"neil be the father of my children!" "oh i think they meant that in a godfather type way"
todd, at a breaking point, suggests that neil and him post a kissing video but neil doesnt wanna be one of those shawn camilla couples - respect
what if he posted them kissing but he made a historians will call them bestfriends joke but then ppl did🧍♂️
"my bestie and I 🤩 " "NEIL PEOPLE ARE GOING TO THINK UR SERIOUS"
//
neil
tiktok name: neilliard.at.julliard
accidentally tiktok famous for pretty face, charming personality, acting abilities - the theater kids had a claim over him orignially but he's pretty mainstream now
comment section full of old grandmas trying to set him up with their granddaughters
everyones dream bf until he posted about his own bf
neil: my boyfie has a big tumblr and he writes a lot and he really likes frogs and he is also blond and heres his address
hes kinda oblivious about everything
"you want a close up of my collar bones? why ?"
reading comment "'show your abs?' its nice you think i have abs! only my boyfriend can see those tho 😉 "
the comments go wild
people are stitching it screaming for different reasons
all his fans r screaming into pillows bc HES TAKEN NOOO
people are trying to figure out who this mans boyfie is
"he has a boyfriend??" "he's been straightbaiting us!" "NOO HE'S TAKEN" "IS UR BF AS HOT AS U" "look at the way his eyes lit up when he said bf i love love" "this video shows an aspect of society that-"
"tell us about ur bf" and he makes a week worth of videos but its all random stuff
"my bf looks pretty in blue" "my bf likes to put salt and pepper on his fries" "my bf has hair"
the straightbaiting comments come after him posting about pride and having a pride flag in the background of his videos <- they say things like "he's such a good ally"
people attack others in the comments who ask him if hes queer "NO NEIL ISNT GAY NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO BE GAY HE COULD JUST BE A REALLY REALLY REALLY REALLY FRUITY STRAIGHT GUY WHO LIKES GIRLS"
"are you gay neil???" -> "not everything has to be gay ppl can just be allys and btw by assuming every ally is gay, ur actually hurting the movement!!!" -> "i asked becuz he said he wanted to kiss his boy best friend on the lips in highschool" -> "he meant it heterosexual-ly"
someone asks him what his type is and he describes todd to the t and they think he likes a short haired blonde
"he likes girls in sweat pants not skirts" "his type isnt ppl in skirts" -- neil would love todd in a skirt but thats not the point
his type: "he's really shy, gorgeous, short dirty blonde hair, uhhhh, really smart, and So much more :))"
he could say my boyfriend is a man who i am dating because i am gay and they would still try to straight-ify him
a grainy video gets leaked of a short haired blond guy jumping into his arms and ppl say things like "its just a girl with short hair"
todd hate writes a neil x male reader fic
he asks his friends for help and they post todd's face everywhere on his recording set
he makes a video like "meet my toddy"
in the video todd says he's a boy and he's todd and he's neil boyfriend 3485757 times and neil is like "omg babe i love u too <33" becuz he doesnt Understand
some ppl r still in denial or think he's bi w/ a preference for girls
straight girls like him becuz he has a pretty face and a general respect for women
during prom season, he gets dmed a lot of websites for buying prom tickets
"don't worry guys! i know i said my high school time was rough, but i actually did go to prom with my bf!!"
//
charlie
twitter name: therealalpha
most popular podcast name: daltons intercourse
joke/bait account ppl took seriously
The Alpha that other alpha posters bow to
says stuff like "SIGMA MALES KISS ALPHAS ON THE MOUTH TO ASSURT DOMINANCE"
the twitter alphas buy into him so bad he's making podcasts and doign interviews and he has no clue how tf he got here but he's riding the high
he advocates for being alpha via kissing ur homies
when he gets famous he begs todd to write a fic about him
todd agrees pretty easily tbh
"ARE YOU EVEN AN ALPHA MALE IF PPL AREN'T WRITING GAY FICS ABOUT YOU"
charlie posts things like "no homo" "only the real make out with their homies" over those black and white pics of muscle-y dudes w/ no context after the neil video he posts "he homo" over one of them w/ no context
at first ppl try to attack him but then theyre like wtf is going on here and realize he's trolling the alpha community
when no one realizes neil is actually gay he makes a podcast episode talking about how he thinks neil is gay gay homosexual gay - he's holding a cigar and wearing a tight hawaiian unbuttoned shirt like "lets talk about this gay gay theater gay boykisser man"
made by @cowboylexapro
//
pitts
youtube name: gerdoesstuff
joint youtube name: idkman
homework help and crafts videos youtuber - relaxed vibes only here to be calm
he gives study and concentration tips and encourages ppl to seek help and companionship and not suffer alone
he paints mugs and looks for bugs
he was on charlie's podcast and they discussed the alpha-ness of making pottery
todd wrote a pitts x reader fic becuz ppl begged him to
pitts printed it out and framed it and put it in his filming set up
he's a regular on meeks podcast too btw and meeks is a regular on his
but when meeks is around things explode so
he has a second channel with meeks where they do silly experiments
theyre posting schedule is non-existent and they also do streams but they never tell you so their viewers just have to hope and find out
knox and him are planning on making a movie review channel but its still not fully thought out so
he makes couple mugs for todd and neil when neil asks for help
he wakes up at 2 am and sends todd prompts
anytime he learns a fun fact he sends it to todd on the off chance todd may need it for a story at some point in his life
anytime he reads anything he's like damn neil will love to act like this character and lets him know about it
he sends charlie alpha podcasters to make fun of
at some point he exposes cam's shitty handwriting for the giggles
knox
instagram name: knoxious.ur.mom.ious
he posted a short on his instagram talking about how he just learned hair grows from the head and not the bottom and blew up for being a dummy - he doesn't know whats going on but he's having a blast
he stirs up drama but on accident
he was on pitts youtube before
out of everyone here he's the only one not making content he's just vibing
eventually he ends up posting background footage of everyone doing dumb shit
when it comes out theyre friends ppl stalk his instagram to find more proof
after that he starts to stir drama but more consciously
hmm what else - idk he's just chilling, getting called out for being dumb and watching his friends do dumb stuff
oh wait when he makes that short about the hair a bunch of commentary channels post about it and he takes it like a badge of honor
cameron
instagram name: cam.studies
pinterest name: cam.studies
one of those aesthetic studying accounts on insta and pinterest - takes nice shots of his homework and his pen collections and his study desk
except its only for the pics his handwriting is atrocious - he has like one page or paragraph of pretty handwriting to post and the rest is scribbled chaos - his pens are never organized by color, theyre just thrown in a box, and his desk is filled with papers and books and never looks clean but its fine he's just here for clout
he ends up sponsoring and reviewing businesses that make those cute study supplies so now he has a hoard - or at least he did until his friends started taking them
he groaned about the cam.studies x {random ass ppl} fics todd wrote but he thinks theyre funny and has them bookmarked
he went on charlie's podcast and the two argued for half of it and then explained how as two alphas they would settle their differences by kissing
his friends help him angle his aesthetic shots at cafes and shit
he got exposed eventually as a fake becuz ppl (cough) posted his real notes which were messy and disorganized
but he played it off as a commentary about how the internet is fake and got more sponsorships
he judges todd and neil but is eating popcorn at the front seat of the drama
meeks
podcast name: chameleon hotel
youtube channel name: idkman
meeks makes a podcast for very stupid intricate crimes. he has a cult following of bisexuals
its stuff like drama over a tree being taken down
"the locals even called their beloved tree 'ole alvin'"
charlie: todd write a meeks x ole alvin fic
he has standards, so he does
he went on charlie's podcast and convinced ppl that being with other men allowed u to suck in their alpha-ness and become the ultimate alpha
but generally he just makes his little silly videos and makes cryptic posts about the neil todd drama
has a joint channel w/ pitts
is up to date with the neil thing and is the one to send neil updates
he tries to convince neil to act out his podcasts (with a lot of success lmao)
he tries to convince todd to write fics based on his podcasts (also with a lot of success)
as payback for the ole alvin x meeks fic he convinces todd (very easily) to write a bunch of dumb charlie fics and todd agrees becuz he has standards
no one actually knows that the poets know each other
they eventually post a group photo
"we need to cancel neil perry for being friends with an alpha podcast guy" "nah thats just charlie"
"yall know hes bi, right?"
"he literally has a podcast about how sucking dick as a man makes u the ultimate alpha male"
it does explain why charlie's alpha podcast go from tiktok actor, tumblr fanfic writer, instagram study blog, fellow podcaster, hw help tiktoker in between his satire of normal alpha tiktokers
half of these things are like copy and pasted from our conversation btw so dont blame me for them
#todd anderson#neil perry#anderperry#dead poets society#deadpoets#dead poets headcanons#neil and todd#todd and neil#dps fandom#dps#charlie dalton#dps fanfiction#dps fic#dps headcanons#dps memes#dps incorrect quotes#meeks#steven meeks#stephen meeks#dead poets#gerard pitts#meeks and pitts#pitts dps#cameron richard#richard cameron#knox overstreet#anderperry social media
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Do you have any eremika age gap au recs?? It’s my favorite trope and there’s nearly not enough fics out there😭😭😭
*rubs hands* I took my time with this because I am not the most avid fic reader unfortunately, but I do have a few recs and some more on my tbr. I think what you're looking for is not just an age difference but where the age gap is the focus? i've marked those in pink. definitely check the tags on these before proceeding!!
gonna start with mine just for completeness, and also because i love it *blush*
boy next door: For sixteen years, Mikasa has watched the boy next door. First: through the eyes of a child, hand in his during family trips, his hand on her first bike when she learned how to ride. Then: through the eyes of a teenager, peeking behind her blinds into his room on hot summer months when he didn't wear a shirt, eyes lingering on his lips when he pulled away his cigarette. Now, she is so much older, but he is older still, and the gap between them feels ever widening. But her desire to close it only feels more desperate.
i'm certain you've checked out @herblacktights 's ao3, but here are my favs of hers with that age gap sauce:
degausser: After a deadly flu pandemic that devastates Paradis Island and the rest of the world, Eren is all Mikasa has. After she turns sixteen, that gets complicated. -> the plot is entirely the age gap, lol!
comfort me: “Mikasa,” Eren drawled, fake scolding edging into his voice as he held the basement door open and led her outside. “Does Aunt Carla know what a bad girl you are?” For a moment, she looked stunned. A sliver of a second, a wink of an eye. Looking every inch the little girl he watched grow up, who he knew deserved better than him. But before it could take root in her and make him regret what he said, Mikasa gave him a terrible, sweet smile. “Aunt Carla says I deserve to do whatever I want after the year I’ve had,” she said and from the way that she was looking at him, he should’ve known it was a threat. cw: mild daddy kink!
love dog : this one is a bit different! teacher mikasa x student eren, and mikasa is the older one. cw: it doesn't exactly have a super happy ending. but it is one of my favs from hannah!!
Butterfly effect by @sunlightandsuffering : Sugar baby AU - older hobo eren x younger mikasa. how can i say this... it's the OG, the most delicious, lys-brand chaotic eremika but age gap flavour! i love it, i'm sure if you've been around this block you've read it lol, but it's simply amazing, read it again!!
You, me and our sins by @loneghostss : Eren is married and Mikasa has a boyfriend. But the fact that they both have someone doesn't stop them from sinfully falling in love with each other. (it is about eremika having an affair with each other and it is so sensual and hot, age gap is not central here but it definitely brings heat!!) you could also check out lost saints by the same author, there's also some age difference and great smut.
@dead-dolphins is a connoisseur of the age gap trope, defs check out all the aus on her pinned post!! ro is a master of drama and worldbuilding so her fics are always a treat. she's got some on ao3 that are all about that sweet age gap <3
chemical hype boy : idol mikasa x actor eren!! and eren is definitely playing into the older established actor mold!
i apologise if you feel something: Goth mikasa gets involved with older Eren, lead vocalist of a metal band.
the promised princess: a medieval fantasy au inspired by got. age difference is not the central theme, but it's a stellar fic regardless.
straight/edge by @sinigangsta-ao3: Mikasa Ackerman is prim, proper, and perfect. As the golden child of the Ackerman family, her academic achievements set her up for a bright future and atone for her older brother’s past mistakes. When the spring semester of her junior year arrives, she crosses paths with a local boy toward whom she’d typically never give the time of day — and they begin a whirlwind relationship that unlocks parts of herself that she didn’t know she kept hidden. this fic is more about the good girl x bad boy trope but with that delicious 3-4 year age gap sauce!! cw: NOT a hea
devilish lovers by softwinter: “I wanna be your friend, Mikasa,” he told her one day when she got home from school not able to feign a less distressed expression on her face, too many sixteen-year-old problems going on in her life. He had the habit of commenting that she was always sad, that he didn’t like how that transpired on her gray eyes.
“I thought you wanted to be my daddy,” something flashed in his eyes right then, like she’d said something forbidden, a kind of thing that could make her a bad girl in his eyes. cw: step dad kink!! definitely check the tags before proceeding.
heaven knows by @joannaofarkham: priest au where priest eren is mikasa's teacher in a catholic school. it is unfinished but the first chapter reads pretty well standalone!
eternally yours by @cxcassii: reincarnation au + age gap. It's been 2,000 years since Eren Jaeger was a titan shifter and unleashed the blood drenched madness of the rumbling upon the world. Now, in the year 2023, he's a twenty-four year old who lives with his best friend Armin. He goes about his days working as a pharmacy technician all while attempting to cope and come to terms with the loss of the loved ones he still remembers with clarity from his previous life. The atrocious sins of his past life he can never ever truly atone for. But most of all, there's one person he simply can't forget: His former love of his life, Mikasa. It's when he's not actively searching for her that they cross paths once again, and their love will once again be on trial when Eren learns that Mikasa not only doesn't remember their past life together, but is also seventeen years old. this one is still on my tbr but whatever i've read so far looks extremely delicious!!!
enjoy!! if anyone wants to add more please feel free to reblog and improve this list!! <3
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Songfell anniversary post, pt 1
Eyyy so four years ago today, I posted the first three chapters of my story on AO3, having seen an unfinished comic and gotten permission from the artist to write a fic using her premise. This here is the first piece of Songfell art ever, commission from the OG comic creator, @lostmypotatoes 👌
So! I am not posting any new content for the moment. My mom has been having health problems, including me having to help take her to the ER (she's fine, just needs to stay in bed for a while), which delays actual writings a bit. What I am doing is reposting art from four years of Tumblr! C'mon down memory lane, wheeeeee
(Part 2, Part 3)
This is going to be in VERY VERY approximate chronological order as it depicts stuff in the story. Stuff with no set place in the story will be guesstimated because I have that power ah ha ha ha ha
Disclaimer: I've pulled all of these from posts or reblogs made by this specific blog. If I didn't see or repost any Songfell art you've done, especially for the videos, I did not leave it out on purpose. I threw in exactly one image from Discord for the sake of completing a set, but that was it.
In cases of multiple...okay it's just the fork scene that has multiple iterations because everyone liked it, but besides the opening one here (which is still my AO3 pfp!), the one that was the first piece of non-commissioned art I ever got will be first. Enjoy!
This was the first non-potatoes art in the videos, I believe, done by the superlative @venelona (probably the most prolific of the arts on here), when somebody realizes he's gonna lose 😘
The collection skips ahead to Sans contemplating killing the nice lady and then totally randomly thinking of Kris instead, by @mambourin D: But whaddya know--
See? That's the sound of losing, son
That's the sight of losing, by @sharkowskii, whose work speaks for itself. Here's the whole thing, colored fantastically by Vene.
Know what else they did together, and happens once he's been knocked out?
(Look at this so good holy shit) Frisk's had a bit of a tired, scared cry in the hall, and it's time to face her new guest head-on.
I lost my mind at least a little bit when I first saw these, ngl. I can't find the next page that she did for the compiled "movie" video 😢 But now we're coming up on a fun bit of Songfell lore!
I was scrolling through Tumblr and glanced over what looked like a picture of my Frisk ha ha that was kind of VENELONA DID A THING WAIT WHAT
First ever fanart, that's what. We have a High Priestess who is completely done with his goddamn nonsense, and
Pictured: goddamned nonsense. N-Not like he LIKES you, baka
Aaand here's my Discord pfp, by @xxkoichiixx (who seems not to be on here anymore D:).
And here's a very plausible alternate outcome by @vafro1.
Though this was a bit more like it, thanks to @naomyart.
Oh look a distraction after he was stupid what are the odds (Catler1!)
Last and never least (none of you are >:( so there), puns are dumb and it turns out they're into it. The End...for now
...
Bonus outtake recording illustration from @dale-the-human
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