#he could ask himself if he can fall in love with her real version too
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i like that soocheol didnt think for even a second that him not being the biological father meant he wasn't the kid's father but i wish they'd let him be mad at his wife at least for a moment,,
#like she did lie to him ever since they knew each other#i know he's just a side character but still#he could ask himself if he can fall in love with her real version too#bc the girl he fell in love with doesnt even really exist#like i doubt it was all a lie but still#not really invested in this romance but i want more for kdy's character sksksk#heli liveblogs#queen of tears#hong soo cheol
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Quarterfinals, Match 2
expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)
Lauryn Hill:
"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"
"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."
"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."
"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"
Damon Albarn:
"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."
"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."
"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."
"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."
"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"
"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"
"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"
"THE MAIN BLUR"
"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."
"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."
"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."
"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."
"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."
"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."
"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."
"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."
"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"
"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."
"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."
"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"
"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."
"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it �� may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"
"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."
"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"
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Dawg I’m actually begging crying on my knees for you to do a reverse version where like reader dies protecting skz 😭😭😭 ofc obvi no pressure, like only if you’d like to 🙏🏻🩷 you write so well im like obsessed
ububububu.....I'm very pleased to hear this! thanks for the idea, love 🩷🫂
I'm eating strawberries and crying, I literally feel bad about this job 😭😭😭
SKZ's reaction to your death ver. hyung line
maknae line
It pains me to write this work, my heart breaks and I begin to believe in this nonsense... BUT REMEMBER THAT ONLY PERSONALITIES ARE TAKEN FROM THE REAL SKZ, EVERYTHING REST IS FICTION!
Bang Chan
It happened...suddenly.
Chan returned home before you, he wanted to cook you dinner and then turn on a new movie that he recently found.
He knew that you were stuck at work, so he wasn’t too worried.
An hour has passed... you're gone, but you should be back by now. Two hours have passed, Chan is nervous.
He called you, you didn’t pick up, he called you so many times, but you didn’t hear.
At two o'clock in the morning he receives a call on his phone. He jumps out of bed, hoping it's you calling, but it's just an unfamiliar number.
He picks up the phone, he just hopes you're okay.
"Are you Bang Christopher Chan? I'm sorry..Y/N Bang died."
Chan thought it was a joke, a very unfunny joke.
He can only come to consciousness when he sees your body. Road accident, you didn't survive.
He will ask Changbin, Jisung and Hyunjin to come out quite aggressively, because they came with him.
He ran his fingers over your pale face, tears forming in his eyes. Impossible.
He strokes your hair, strokes your hands, stopping at your fingers...he squeezes your hand tightly. Why did you leave him?
Tears fall on your lifeless body, you would be very upset if you saw Chan crying.
They can only drag him out of your room in the morning, he didn’t want to let go of your body until the end, it was like he was possessed.
"No, don't take me...I have to stay with her! I don't want to be taken away from her"
"she’s probably so cold and scared... she’s alone there, she’s already lifeless.”
He blamed himself, he could have taken you away from work, but why didn’t you ask?
The exit from the hospital is filled with reporters and paparazzi, the shocking news shocked many: “Model and Actress, Bang Chan’s wife Y/N Bang died in a car accident.”
Thanks to the members, they protected Chan from reporters and endless paparazzi. Chan did not walk behind as usual, but in the middle, and a ring was created around the participant.
Chan doesn’t remember anything, he just cried, he cries so much and loudly.
The members refused to leave him, although he asked so. They went to the dorm.
A day has passed... two days have passed... a week has passed. Funeral.
He remembers everything very vaguely, he was the last one to kiss your forehead before the coffin lid was closed.
Now he is completely alone.
He eats very little and hardly leaves the room. Minho literally force feeds him.
Your photos are open on his phone, you are on his wallpaper.
He doesn’t want to live without you, he wants you so much.
His tears never dry, he cries constantly. There are no emotions inside him, he is dead.
He looked through your correspondence... his heart ached madly.
He just loves you so much, he loves only you.
He apologized profusely to your family, it was his fault.
In the end he won't cope and he will leave for you. Chan was found hanged in his room. There was a note on the table with the words: “I can’t live without her, I’m nothing without her... forgive me.”
Lee Minho
People come and go. The simple meaning of life
But you couldn't leave him...not you
If you loved, then you would not have left...WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM?
Overdose of antidepressants.
He found you in your apartment, you were lying on the bed, wrapped in a blanket... you seemed to be sleeping, but your heart was not beating.
What if he had found you earlier?
He would have stopped you.
He found a letter next to you... your last will and love for him
"𝐈'𝐦 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤...𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰"
"𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐇𝐨"
"𝐈'𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐲. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞."
IT'S NOT EASIER WITHOUT YOU
He has been crying for several days in a row. Even the members can't pull it out.
He became so aggressive and closed.
His heart rotted and broke without you
He falls asleep with your sweatshirt on, with your perfume on it.
The company releases a statement that Minho is taking an indefinite hiatus from activities.
He wants to close his eyes, open his eyes and have you next to him.
He went through many treatments with you and visited many psychiatrists.
You smiled at him so much, so what happened?
Minho cried for the first time in front of the members, everyone was broken with your death.
After your death, he smoked for the first time.
The cigarette smoke calmed him down at least a little. And in your dreams you came to him, you talked to him a lot.
He became very closed off to himself, even Jisung couldn’t get him to talk.
Everything and everywhere reminded him of you
Your bottle of perfume...your drawings, your rings, your elastic bands, your sweaters
You would curse if you saw him like this.
Only a month later, after your funeral, he dared to pick up your phone.
To mom, dad and sister: “I’m sorry that I’m so weak.. I would like a better life for you, I wanted to live better and happier. I’m a bad daughter.”
To SKZ:"Sorry...be strong, you are world stars and become even more popular..."
To Minho:"I repent of you, I hate myself for what I did. I have about ten minutes left...And in these ten minutes I will continue to love you, Lee Minho. Maybe we will meet in the next life?"
The emotions he had been holding back burst out.
He screamed, his scream deafening the silence.
Physical pain in his heart pierced him. how the bitch it hurts.
Now he's wearing your big jacket.
“Please protect me, Y/N.”
SEO CHANGBIN
"Police lieutenant Seo Y/N was shot..she died while intercepting a drug gang. The ambulance did not have time to arrive"
What did he just hear? Why are they saying your name?
Is this a mistake? Maybe they got it wrong?
He refused to believe it until he was asked to come to the morgue to identify the body.
Yes, you were lying there...a bullet in the forehead.
Changbin turned away, he couldn’t look at you. He's scared.
Probably then he realized all the pain, he stopped living.
Felix and Seungmin forcibly dragged him away from the morgue.
He was never against your work, he was just proud of you. Of course, his wife is a police lieutenant.
He knew it was dangerous, but could anything bad happen to you?
"Changbin, she died a hero, please...be the same hero for her."
There were so many people at your funeral, why did they all come?
Changbin felt lost, Chan was holding his hand. Changbin couldn't navigate the space.
Time doesn't heal anything, remember.
He lost the desire to exist
He hated your job after your death, it's all your damn job.
Will you protect Changbin? Are you his guardian angel?
From time to time he hears your voice.
He will come to your parents and ask for forgiveness.
Really, forgive him.
He will take your dog with him, it seems... the dog really misses you, where is his owner?
Changbin doesn't like music anymore, he stopped working out, he stopped eating.
"Y/N would be upset if she knew that you wanted to leave the group."
"She told you to create for the sake of people's happiness."
"WITHOUT HER THERE IS NO FUCKING THIS HAPPINESS..."
You would like him to continue writing and working.
He will stay for your sake... and for the sake of the members, these three months they kept him afloat, he literally clung to them.
Your dog now has 8 caring men
Changbin brings red Lilies, your favorite flowers, to your grave every week.
Hwang Hyunjin
You have been married for five years, recently celebrated your anniversary.
You were the happiest couple! STAY blessed couple , the participants were incredibly happy about your couple.
You found out that you are pregnant.
Hyunjin was incredibly happy! Members will become uncles to your baby.
Felix took the place of godfather.
Chan and Minho were responsible for choosing the name.
And Changbin, Jisung, Seungmin and Jeongin made rooms for your baby!
But...you had a back injury, which made it dangerous to give birth.
You didn't care, you were going to have the baby.
Difficulties began immediately during contractions, Hyunjin was with you all the time.
He was forced to leave the room in the middle of labor.
The members who were waiting in the corridor were very worried.
Sudden silence.
The doctor came out of the maternity room and said: “Congratulations, you have a daughter... please accept my condolences, your wife has died.”
What?
It sounded so absurd.
Hyunjin walked into your room, you looked so tired...so sad. sad aphrodite.
Hyunjin kissed your forehead, one hand on your neck, the other holding your hand.
"Thank you for daughter...and forgive me, I love you very much"
Tears rolled down Hyunjin's cheeks, the tears were like pearls.
Hyunjin went home with the members.. The workers left your daughter in the hospital for several days.
Hyunjin seemed to understand nothing, he understood absolutely nothing.
"The baby will grow up in love, Hyunjin"
"We will all take care of her..she is an extension of Y/N" These words from Chan hurt Hyunjin's heart...He will protect and love his daughter.
Hyunjin is always crying, his eyes are red, his face is swollen from crying.
It hurt even more when Seungmin brought your favorite coffee.
In three days we could pick up our daughter.
All eight participants went to the maternity hospital.
They brought out a small package for you, what a tiny little thing.
Hyunjin looked at the little baby as if he were the eighth wonder of the world, the girl was sleeping. Hyunjin could have sworn that she would look like you.
"We'll call her Viyoung" Why is this in tune with Vendetta?
The guy nodded approvingly, tears flowing down his cheeks again.
The members took turns holding the bundle with the baby in their hands.
"I will love you so much, Viyoung...just like your mother loved you."
“Your uncles will take care of you...you will grow up with complete love.”
They went home, everything will be fine. Your memory will never fade away. Hyunjin will raise a beautiful daughter. She's a copy of you, but with Hyunjin's eyes.
#stray kids#stray kids angst#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids x female reader#stray kids x you#skz minho#skz bang chan#skz changbin#skz hyunjin#skz fic#skz headcanons#skz reactions#angst#bang chan x you#bang chan x reader#skz lee know#lee know x you#lee know x reader#seo changbin#bang chan#changbin x reader#changbin x y/n#hwang hyunjin#hwang hyunjin x you#hwang hyunjin x reader#stray kids reactions#stray kids headcanons#headcanons#reaction
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Chapter 1: Under My Skin
Written for the @strangerthingsreversebigbang
Art (coming soon!) by @glitterfang
Beta'd by @penny00dreadful
Rating: E | WC: 5937 | Chapters: 1/2 | AO3 Link
Not for the first time, Eddie was really regretting his decision to book a client on a Friday night, and a new client at that.
It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do, exactly. There were no dates on his calendar, and going out to random bars and clubs on the weekends to look for quick hookups had begun losing its appeal lately.
But it’d been a long week, and he’d much rather have been getting ready to plop down on the couch with Chrissy to split a bottle of red wine while they watched Drag Race, than preparing to do a cover up for some idiot who’d gotten his girlfriend’s name tattooed on his body, only to fall victim to—The Curse.
Ask any tattoo artist and they’d be the first to tell you, there was no surer way to guarantee a breakup than to ink your significant other’s name on your body forever.
And yeah, it probably wasn’t fair to judge the guy before they’d even met, but there were only two kinds of people who tended to make that particular mistake—dumbasses, and hopeless romantics. He just kind of assumed his client fell into the former camp, rather than the latter.
Eddie had just started wiping down the front desk counter, which doubled as a display case for the various accessories and body jewelry they carried trying to kill some time between his last appointment and cover-up-guy, when Chrissy came walking out of her studio.
It was one of the biggest perks, in his opinion, of owning their own shop. Not only did each of them finally have their own work spaces—no more having to listen to other client conversations or fighting over a single bluetooth speaker—but being their own bosses also meant they could decorate and customize their own studios to their heart’s content.
The main area of the shop was a bit of a catch-all, much like his and Chrissy’s shared apartment. It featured neutral walls lined with a mishmash of all the things they loved, sprinkled in and amongst odd antiques, knick-knacks, and various pieces of unique artwork. There was everything from vintage vinyl record jackets tacked to the wall, to faux taxidermy mountings of creatures that had never existed in real life.
Entering Chrissy’s studio was a little like stepping inside a Lisa Frank notebook cover. All vibrant rainbow colors and aggressive animal print. Eddie had painted the walls himself, color matching the exact shade of fuchsia as the adjustable chair he’d custom ordered just for her. He was no interior designer so she’d taken it from there, and though the finished product was a little too bright for his tastes, even he had to admit it was still pretty fucking metal.
Eddie’s space was the polar opposite, featuring dark stained wood furniture and a style of decor that could be best described as a slightly more grown up version of a teenage boy's bedroom. Band and movie posters lined three of the walls, but instead of being held up with thumbtacks, or scotch tape, they were neatly laid in matching frames with thick black edging. The remaining wall held a gallery of photos. Him and Wayne from their last fishing trip, one from when he and Chrissy had received the keys to the parlor unlocking its doors on the first day that it was theirs, and an old snap of him and his high school bandmates standing in front of their homemade banner, among many others.
It wasn’t until Chrissy came up to lean on the counter with her jacket zipped-up and her purse slung over her shoulder that he realized something was up.
“Don’t forget to lock up when you're done.” She said, tapping her nails on the glass. “Oh! And can you stop and pick up some oat milk on your way home? We’re out.”
“Wait, where are you going? Didn’t you have a client booked tonight too? I thought we were in this together, Cunningham!”
“Not anymore.” She said cheerfully, leaning across the counter to rest her elbows on the glass, leaving an ink smudge on the exact spot he had just finished cleaning. He swatted at her with the damp rag and she jerked back with a giggling-gasp.
“Mine had to cancel.”
Eddie groaned. “I hate when clients do that.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. It’s like a free night off I wasn’t expecting.”
“Not exactly free, since canceling means not paying in full.” He grumbled.
“Oh lighten up! It’s not like we’re that behind on bills or anything.”
“Tell that to the electric company.” He said, mostly to tease her, though he couldn't help glancing up at the excessively large and kitschy skull chandelier he’d found on Amazon that definitely didn’t use high efficiency light bulbs, but he had sworn at the time was worth it for The Aesthetic™.
“Why are you always so grumpy?” Chrissy asked, jutting her lip out in a dramatic reenactment of him pouting.
Not that he was one to pout.
“I’m not!”
“Look at your face, you're grumpy right now!”
“That's because y- you’re…” He cut himself off with a sigh.
He couldn't begrudge her the time off, he’d be hightailing it out of there just the same if it had been him.
“Just get out of here.” He said, conceding defeat.
She beamed. “Okay! See you later!” She said, all but sprinting to the front doors. “Don’t forget about the milk!”
“Wait, why can’t you–” He started to ask, but she was on the other side of the door before he could get the words out.
“Oh forget it.” He mumbled, stashing the glass cleaner away where it belonged.
About fifteen minutes later the bell above the door chimed, signaling the arrival of what Eddie assumed to be his last customer of the day.
Except, it couldn't be.
It couldn’t possibly be because the Adonis that had just entered his humble tattoo parlor was, quite frankly, bonkers hot. There was no way, absolutely no way someone had this guy—this guy—so obsessed with them that he went and got their name tattooed on his perfect body and then just… let him go.
It was unthinkable.
“Hi, you must be Eddie. I recognized you from your Instagram.” Pretty-boy said with a shy smile.
“Steve?” Eddie asked, blinking hard, completely unable to mask the tone of disbelief.
The other man nodded.
Shit, okay.
So this was him—Steeeeeeve Harrington. This was the guy.
Maybe there was something wrong with him? There had to be a catch, a series of very red flags or something because all Eddie could think about at that moment was, if he ever got a chance with Steve? He’d never let him go.
Get it together, Munson!
The bright side, of a sort, was that Steve smacked of straight guy energy, so it was unlikely Eddie would even be in the running for a chance anyway. Better to just put it out of his mind.
Though, he supposed he could still… look. It's not like looking ever hurt anyone. Not that he made a habit out of ogling the clientele. Of course, none of his other customers had ever come in wearing vintage Levi’s that fit their ass like a glove, not to mention the way they fit around his–
“Eddie?”
Fuck.
Had Steve been talking this whole time while he’d been off daydreaming about what those sinfully tight jeans might look like on his bedroom floor?
“Yeah.” A soft chuckle fell from Eddie’s lips as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “S- sorry, man. Spaced out for a second there I guess.”
What the fuck was wrong with him today?!
“It’s okay. I was just asking if the plan was still the same? In your last email you suggested we should do this over two appointments.”
Work question… yes, good. Focus on the job!
“Right. With what we talked about I'd like to concentrate on just the outline today, maybe a little shading, and then in six weeks or so once that’s healed have you come back for the color. If you’re still alright with that?”
Eddie could do the whole thing in one shot if Steve really wanted to sit that long, but with something like this he didn't want to feel rushed. He’d done a few concept sketches after emailing back and forth with Steve about what he was looking for, and honestly what they’d come up with wasn’t really his usual style. He could do it, he was more than capable, but he had to wonder why Steve had picked him, out of all the tattoo artists in the city. He’d seen Eddie’s Instagram, so he knew the kind of work he usually churned out. Hell, Chrissy would have been the more obvious choice for this.
Of course, now that he’d gotten an eye-full of Steve in person he was glad he hadn’t tried to pawn him off on her. He was also really hoping Steve would agree to the split sessions, it would give them an excuse to see each other again.
“Whatever you think is best. I’m putting myself in your expert hands.” Steve said, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.
That was… interesting.
Maybe Eddie had been a little bit hasty in his initial straight assessment?
Steve’s deposit had been paid, and they’d already gone over pricing through email so there wasn't much to discuss as far as that was concerned, After signing some paperwork and getting the other man’s ID scanned into the system there was nothing left to do but walk Steve back to his studio and get this show on the road.
“You can go ahead and take your shirt off, get comfortable. I’ll show you the stencil I drew up and if it looks good we can put it on and get started.” Eddie said, gesturing to his client chair.
He leaned over his desk while Steve got situated, taking a second to gather his thoughts, as well as add a small finishing touch to the transfer sketch before turning back to his client. The sight made his throat go dry.
It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was.
At Eddie's direction, in preparation, Steve had shaved his chest. More specifically, Steve had shaved half of his chest. The side Eddie would be working on, that sported the existing tattoo, was bare—smooth as a baby's bottom. The other side was…
It was…
Jesus Christ.
It should have looked ridiculous actually, and it was a little funny, but honestly all Eddie could think when he stared at the untrimmed side of Steve's upper body, resplendent with the most glorious chest hair, was that it was a travesty, a crime even, that he’d never get to see the whole thing grown out in its full glory.
The lack of a shirt also highlighted the fact that Steve was incredibly toned, much more so than he had initially appeared even through his slim fit henley.
Eddie shook his head, praying it had suddenly become an etch-a-sketch and he could clear out his thoughts by sheer force.
He truly didn’t know what had gotten into him. It was hardly the first time he’d worked on someone he found attractive, but usually he didn’t notice it quite this much. When you pierce and tattoo for a living you get used to seeing a lot of bare skin, including occasionally, areas typically reserved for romantic partners. Professional hazzard, but it’d never been a problem for him before. He was an artist, this was his craft, and bare skin was just another kind of canvas.
He blamed it on his current dry spell, self-imposed as it was.
It was easy enough to go out on a Saturday and find a guy or girl to bring home for the night, but he was so tired of one night stands and meaningless hookups in bar bathrooms. Where was the substance? He wanted companionship. He wanted a partner. He wanted to fall in love.
Eddie cleared his throat and crossed the room to hand Steve the stencil, busying himself with raising up his stool to the proper height and pulling on a pair of thick black neoprene gloves while the other man looked it over.
“It’s great.” Steve said.
“Good.” Eddie quietly let out the breath he’d been holding. “Alright I'm gonna put this on and have you take a look at the placement, make sure you like it, then we can get started.”
Eddie squeezed out a dime sized amount of the stencil gel and rubbed it into Steve’s chest, laying the transfer paper down in just the right way so that the final design would sufficiently cover what was underneath, assuming he had scaled it right.
It was perfect. After a quick check in the mirror, Steve agreed.
While they waited for it to dry Eddie double checked his set up to make sure he had everything he would need for the session.
“Ready to get started?”
Steve took a deep breath and blew it out slow. “Yeah. I am.”
His reply felt heavy, like maybe he was talking about more than just the tattoo. Had they known each other at all Eddie might have asked about it, but they were basically strangers, and it wasn’t his job to pry.
With steady hands he set the needle to Steve's skin and got to work.
They weren’t at it for very long before Steve started to squirm.
Eddie ignored it at first, he could tell the guy was trying hard to keep himself still, and he wasn’t really moving enough to actually disturb the work. Sometimes it took a bit for clients to sink into the feeling, to let the pain fade to the background enough that they could relax a little bit or at least be able to keep their body from trying to react to the odd sensation. But then he noticed the light sheen of sweat spreading over Steve's upper body, and would have sworn he could somehow feel the other man’s pulse quickening beneath the hand he had pressed so closely to his heart, even over the vibration of the tattoo machine.
He should probably stop and do a check-in, suggest a breather or some water. It wouldn't be the first time a seemingly tough muscle-bound guy had struggled to sit for him.
He opened his mouth to say something about it, lifting the needle as he took a quick glance up at Steve’s face, but what he saw had the words dying on his tongue. Steve was staring back at him, face flushed, breath coming quick and shallow, bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
That… did not look like a face that was in pain—or rather—it didn’t seem like the pain was unpleasant.
Fuck.
Eddie flicked his gaze quickly back down to his hands, the needle, fighting the urge to look lower.
He shouldn’t.
It wasn’t right.
The professional thing to do would be to ignore the reaction completely.
But Eddie was a weak, weak man.
He looked.
Just a quick peek, less than a half-second that his eyes wandered south, and immediately he regretted it.
Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuck.
Suspicion confirmed. Steve was hard. He was also huge if the unmistakable outline was any indication. Eddie bit his tongue, fighting back the groan that was trying to fight its way out of his throat.
Those jeans should be fucking illegal. The only thing worse would’ve been a pair of gray sweatpants. Now he was the one sweating.
“Sorry.” Steve said, voice strained.
Eddie stilled, lifting the machine away from Steve's chest again before looking back up to meet his eyes.
“For?”
Steve raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue to pretend he hadn’t noticed.
“It’s fine, really. It… happens. Everyone reacts differently to the pain.”
Steve let out a high pitched and breathy huff of laughter. “It wasn’t like this last time.” He muttered under his breath.
Eddie tried hard not to read into that, not to think about what the difference might be.
“Do you need to take a break?”
“No,” Steve swallowed hard. Eddie watched, momentarily mesmerized by the bob of his adams apple. “But, uh, can we talk or something? To distract me?”
He sounded so vulnerable, and a little embarrassed. It was enough to snap Eddie out of his daze. The last thing he wanted was for the person in his chair to feel uncomfortable. Talking he could do, it was one of his best things.
“Sure, what do you want to talk about?” Eddie asked casually, getting right back into his line work.
“You.” Steve answered quickly, pausing to clear his throat. “Um, I mean, did you always want to be a tattoo artist?”
Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much. I used to spend all my time, including the time I should have been using to study or do my homework, drawing, sketching, painting, you name it, and it just kinda developed from there. I gave myself my first stick-and-poke when I was about 15. My uncle was pissed. Not about the tattoo exactly, but he was worried I wasn't being safe enough about it—sanitary and stuff. Of course, he wasn’t wrong. So, Wayne took me out the next day and we got a book about it, and he bought me all the right materials. Even let me practice on him when I graduated to a tattoo machine.”
“He sounds like a really great guy.” Steve said.
“Yeah, he is.” Eddie could feel the wistful smile spreading across his own face. “Not just anyone could step in and raise someone else’s kid like that. Just wish I got to see him more. I go back to Indiana to visit him a few times a year, but it’s not the same.”
“I don’t see my family very much either, but we’re not close.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. My parents, they’re–” Steve trailed off as if looking for the right words. “Well, let's just say they're not as supportive of my—life choices, as your uncle was for you.”
“Oh?”
“I, uh, came out to them a while ago… as bisexual? They didn’t take it very well. Said I was just going through some kind of phase or crisis or something. Sorry, this is probably, like, way too much information to share with someone I just met.”
“No. it’s—Okay, maybe to a normal person it might be but I've never been what anyone would describe as normal. And… I get it.”
Eddie didn’t really have to say it. The outside of the shop sported every kind of pride flag you could think of. There were pictures right behind him on the wall of him and Chrissy at their first ever pride parade right here in the city. Not to mention his social media profiles, where he had a bi flag right next to his age and pronouns in his bio. Steve knew, was the point, and Eddie was glad he’d felt safe enough in his shop—with him, to talk about it.
“Wayne was really good about that too.” Eddie said softly. “I’m sorry your parents weren’t.”
A comfortable silence settled between them after that and Eddie left it unbroken, better to let Steve decide which direction their conversation went from here—if he wanted to continue it. He seemed more relaxed already and his… predicament had mercifully gone down as they spoke.
“When did you—how did you… know?“ Steve asked after a while.
“Junior High.” Eddie answered quickly, smiling to himself as he indulged in a little nostalgia. “Kinda the opposite of the usual story, I guess. I thought I was gay. I had such a crush on this boy a grade above me. Nobody that would have given me the time of day mind you, I was a band geek and a huge nerd, but he was very nice to look at. Then he changed schools. I was heartbroken of course, which is my excuse for why I let this girl drag me under the bleachers during gym class. One second we were just sitting there talking and the next she was in my lap with her tongue down my throat.”
“And?”
Eddie shrugged. “And I didn’t hate it. I reacted exactly the way a young boy reacts when a pretty girl is kissing them and grinding in their lap. Honestly, it blew my mind a little bit—had to reevaluate my whole world view.”
Steve hummed in understanding.
“It’s still mostly men for me but–” Eddie sighed wistfully, “Women.”
“Women,” Steve agreed reverently, letting out a soft laugh. “It was a bit more recent for me. A friend took me to a gay bar—dragged me there actually.” He started to shake his head, stopping instantly when he seemed to realize he might be moving too much.
Good boy.
Eddie smirked. “I bet you were popular.”
“You could say that. I’ve never had so many people offer to buy me a drink in my life.” As Steve went on he began to rub his hand along the chair's armrest, mindlessly drawing patterns into its surface with his long fingers.
“It’s funny, at 25 I didn’t think I had anything new to discover about myself, at least nothing big, but after that rather eye-opening evening I had to, like you said, reevaluate some things about myself. It wasn’t a huge shock I guess. Like, I had found guys attractive before—friends, celebrities, whatever, I just thought everyone felt that way.”
“Ah, the bisexual’s fallacy. Sure I think about other dudes sometimes, but only the normal amount.” Eddie said.
“How was I supposed to know it wasn’t!”
Eddie stopped tattooing as they held each other's gaze, both managing to keep a straight face for only a second before simultaneously dissolving into hysterical laughter.
Figuring it was as good a time as any to take a short break, Eddie stripped his gloves off and slid across the room on his stool to a small mini-fridge he kept tucked under his desk, stocked with water and juice—something he always kept on hand in case a client got lightheaded.
As they sipped their drinks and both took an opportunity to stretch, Eddie decided it was finally time to put his foot in his mouth.
“So, how are you enjoying things on this side of the field? Someone as pretty as you, I'm sure you get asked out a lot.”
“No, uh, I don't know. I- I haven't really been out on any dates with guys.” Steve stuttered out nervously. “Kissed a few, but that’s all.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Eddie said. He meant it too. Not only was Steve something special to look at, but he seemed like a nice enough guy. He deserved to be taken out and shown a good time. Maybe he was shy.
Steve laid back in the chair, puffing his chest out as he got back into position while Eddie slipped a new pair of gloves on.
“Why, you offering to show me the ropes?” Steve asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow.
Eddie’s mouth went dry.
Okay, not that shy then. Surely it was just fun friendly flirting though, right?
“Don’t tempt me.” Eddie teased back. Two could play this game.
“Why not?”
“First rule of the trade, or at least the Munson doctrine, no dating the clients.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” Steve said, and without even looking up Eddie could hear the smile in his voice, a hint of–challenge accepted–in his tone.
The next hour flew by as they continued to chat, both remarking on the differences between small town life and city life, as well as lamenting how expensive it was, and how neither of them thought they’d still be living with roommates in their mid-to-late-20's.
For a while Eddie waxed poetic about Chrissy, who of course filled the roles of bestie, roommate, and business partner, which tickled Steve to no end.
He told the other man how they’d met, apprenticing at the same tattoo parlor at around the same time. and wound up bonding for life almost immediately. They were total opposites on the surface but deep down they were remarkably similar. Eddie didn’t go into too much detail, as it wasn’t his story to tell, but alluded to the fact that he and Chrissy had the shared experience of being born to shitty parents, only to be raised by another family member. A grandmother in Chrissy’s case.
It meant that they understood each other more than most, and yeah, being around one another 24/7 also meant they got on each other’s nerves a lot, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
At some point Steve’s cell phone began to ring from where it was shoved in his front pocket. He apologized profusely for forgetting to switch it on silent before they’d gotten started, but Eddie assured him it wasn’t a big deal.
Or—it wouldn't have been, except either it was some kind of emergency, or someone who was intent on reaching Steve immediately, and continued trying to call three more times.
“We can take a break if you need to get that.” Eddie offered.
Truth be told he could use a little breather himself. All this time of being essentially face down in Steve’s incredible chest was getting to him a little bit, not to mention the way his forearm lightly brushed along Steve's stomach whenever he braced himself across the man’s body. The feel of their bare skin touching was almost too much, and more than once Eddie felt himself breaking out in goosebumps.
“Yeah, I think we’d better. It’s gotta be my little brother and knowing him he won’t stop calling until I answer.”
Eddie busied himself removing his gloves and taking a long drink from his water bottle while he flipped through a few drawings on his side table, trying to look like he wasn’t hearing every word of Steve's side of the conversation.
“Hey buddy, I'm a little busy right now. What’s going on?”
Steve paused, listening attentively to the voice on the other end of the call.
“Dustin, he’s not abandoning you. Just because he wants–”
Sighing as he was abruptly interrupted, Steve somehow made the huff of breath sound both annoyed and fond.
“Well, did he actually say he didn’t want to play D&D with you anymore?”
Eddie’s head snapped up of its own volition. Did the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen in real life just say D&D?
“That’s what I thought.” Steve said with a satisfied tone. “It's gonna be fine. I’ll come see you tomorrow, okay? Tell your mom I said hi.”
“Sorry about that.” Steve said, addressing Eddie this time, rolling his eyes as he ended the call. “Teenagers.”
“Pretty cool little brother if he plays Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Oh no.” Steve groaned. “Not you too! He and all his little friends are obsessed with it.”
“I used to play all the time with a group back in high school. We still try and get together for a one-shot at the holidays when we’re all back home visiting.” Eddie paused, concentrating for a second on wiggling his fingers into yet another set of gloves. There wasn’t really all that much left to do, another 20 minutes or so and he’d be done with the outline. “Was he alright, your brother?”
“Yeah, he’ll be fine.” Steve replied as he sat back, getting into position. “We, uh, technically we’re not actually related—I'm an only child. But I used to babysit Dustin when he was younger and when he grew up I just sorta stuck around. It’s only him and his mom at home and I guess I thought… I dunno, like, maybe I could help? I drove him to his first school dance, taught him how to do his hair, shave, that kinda stuff.”
“That's… that’s really sweet, man. I’m sure he appreciates having you around.”
With every new thing he learned about Steve, Eddie felt like he was in deeper and deeper trouble. He’d been having a tough enough time keeping it together with simply lusting over a hot body, but now Steve was turning out to be this sweetheart of a guy and, client or not, Eddie thought he might just be worth breaking all the rules for.
“He’s worried his friend group is falling apart because one of the guys is going out for the basketball team. He’s afraid if Lucas gets in good with the jocks he won’t want to play with them anymore.”
“As a former outcast and enemy to jocks everywhere, I can understand his concern.”
“Are you saying we wouldn't have been friends in high school then?”
“Steve, Stevie, please. Please don’t tell me…” Eddie trailed off, stopping what he was doing and gasping for dramatic effect–hand over his heart. “Oh god, you were captain of the sportsball team weren’t you?”
Steve giggled, his beautiful eyes sparkling with it. “Basketball, to be exact. I was the co-captain of the swim team too.”
“I knew it would never work between us.” Eddie tutted, shaking his head as he got back to tattooing. “Are you reformed, at least?”
“Once a jock, always a jock, I'm afraid. I’m a personal trainer now.”
It explained a lot, and the perks—pun absolutely intended—of Steve's day job were undeniable, but as hot as the mental image of him pumping iron was, the idea of Steve palling around with toxic gym bros all day was almost enough to have Eddie second guessing everything.
“Don’t worry though, I don’t like gym bros any more than the next guy.” Steve said conspiratorially. “My clients are mainly older women looking to maintain their strength and mobility as they age.”
Aaaaand Eddie stood corrected. “Lucky ladies.”
Jesus Christ, could this guy get any more perfect?
Steve shifted in his seat, starting to get antsy after keeeping still for so long.
“Just a few more minutes, almost done.” Eddie murmured, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated on a spot near the curve of Steve’s collarbone.
“Do you do a lot of these? Cover-ups I mean?” Steve asked. “My roommate is the one who actually suggested it. For some reason I just never thought about it as an option.”
“I don’t know if i’d say a lot, but a fair few, yeah.”
“You, um. You can ask about it… If you want.”
Eddie glanced up in surprise. He would never have brought it up without being prompted, it just didn’t feel right, but he couldn’t deny he was curious, and if Steve was okay with it then–
“Okay, I'll bite. Who’s Nancy?”
“My fiance’. Well, ex-fiance’ now. We broke things off a little over a year ago.”
“That’s rough, I'm sorry.”
“It’s okay. Honestly, It’s… I should have probably seen it coming? We were high school sweethearts—got together before we really knew who we were on our own. But I was dumb and in love. I got the tattoo and proposed. I was so happy that day, but looking back it was so obvious that she’d only said yes out of pity or guilt, not because she really wanted to spend the rest of her life with me.”
The part of Eddie that believed in true love—and all that cheesy shit—was sad that a couple who had been together for so long, who had essentially grown up together, hadn’t been able to make it work. Selfishly though, a small piece of him was happy to learn that they’d been broken up for quite some time, lessening the chance that, if he did somehow gather the courage to ask Steve out when the tattoo was done, he wouldn’t be on the rebound.
“It was tough. I felt like a failure for a long time, like I was having to start my whole life over from scratch when I'd thought for so long that she was it for me, but it's actually been… good. We weren’t right for eachother, I can see that now. As much as it hurt, I'm grateful she had the courage to break things off when she did.”
“I’m glad you’ve been able to come to peace with it.”
“Getting this tattoo feels like the final step into letting that life go, y’know?”
Eddie nodded. Steve’s demeanor before they got started made so much sense now.
“Is there some significance to the design?” He asked, making his final line and setting the machine down. He wiped at the excess ink on Steve's skin, raising his head just in time to see the way the other man’s eyes lit up.
“Yeah, Robin. She–she’s everything to me. Like a best friend, but more somehow. I don’t think I really knew what unconditional love was before her. She’s like, another piece of my soul or something. I don’t know what I would do without her.”
Eddie froze.
The tattoo design was a bird—a robin.
A robin.
For, Robin.
How could he have been so stupid!
Of course, Steve was getting one girl’s name covered up with something to represent the new one.
Jesus Christ, they were both idiots.
Eddie for getting his hopes up, and Steve for making the same mistake—twice. At least this time it was a symbol and not a name, so if he and the latest potential Mrs. Harrington didn’t work out, at least he wouldn't have to worry about covering it up.
“Everything alright?” Steve asked.
The question spurred Eddie back into action. He spread the foam soap over Steve’s chest continuing to clean the finished tattoo while his heart crawled up into his throat.
“Yup. All good.” Eddie forced the words out.
That's what Steve must have meant about not going on dates, he already had someone at home. Why hadn’t he just said that before though? And why had he flirted with him?
Maybe he’d felt funny at first about admitting to being with a woman after all the talk about being bisexual. Not that Eddie would have judged, but he knew a lot of people did—bi erasure was so real. He understood that, but it didn’t make it hurt any less that Steve had, inadvertently or not, lead him on.
Eddie gently patted the newly cleaned skin dry with a paper towel and carefully applied a square of Saniderm over the area, smoothing it out as he gave Steve his usual spiel, albeit a little robotically, about how to care for the tattoo over the coming days and weeks.
He quickly turned his back when he was done, telling Steve he could get dressed, and feeling stupid as all hell for being this upset about a guy he barely knew. He’d felt something though, potential—a spark. It was more than he’d felt for anyone in a long time.
Steve got quiet, looking a little confused with the sudden 180° Eddie’s mood had pulled. He felt a little bad about that as he brought the guy back out to the counter, but it wasn’t as though he’d suddenly become unprofessional. He was just… no longer being overly friendly.
After confirming the date for his second session, Steve paid his balance and Eddie walked him to the door.
“Have a good night, Steve. Call the shop if you have any concerns or questions about aftercare.”
Steve bit his lip. “Oh, I… okay. See you in six weeks then.”
Eddie forced a smile, waiting until Steve was out of sight around the corner to lock up, and slunk back to his studio to disinfect it so he could finally go home and sulk.
Chapter 2
All my thanks to @penny00dreadful for all of your wonderful beta work, and cheerleading, and support, and just generally being THE BEST 💜
#steddie fanfic#stranger things reverse big bang#steddie#tattoo artist eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steve harrington/eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fic#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#tattoo artist chrissy cunningham
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i just discovered that there’s two different versions of astarion’s hug scene :o
the first version is triggered after you reach moonrise towers when you go to long rest at camp and he basically admits that his plan at the beginning was to seduce you, sleep with you and manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on him, but it failed because he ended up falling for you. then he says “you’re incredible. you deserve something real. i want us to be something real” in the softest voice, and then admits that for a long time, he used his body to lure people to his master so he’s not used to intimacy and proper relationships and it’s hard for him.
the second version is triggered after you talk to a drow in moonrise towers. she wants your blood to make a potion + for her own research, but if you decline, she’ll turn to astarion instead and say she wants to be bitten by him because she knows he’s a vampire spawn. she asks if he “belongs to you” and if you select the option that says “excuse me? he’s his own person”, he approves. then she keeps pressuring him and he gets visibly upset and says no because he doesn’t want to bite her. she turns to you again and asks if you can talk some sense into him but if you say “he said no. there’s nothing more to discuss”, he approves again.
then later at camp when you long rest, the conversation starts with him thanking you (his voice is so soft in this scene i almost cried 😭). he proceeds to tell you how he spent 200 years using his body to lure pretty things back to his master and he says that what he wanted and how he felt about what he doing never mattered, and you could’ve done the same to him, but you didn’t. his voice was angry while talking about his past, and i love how much thought and detail they put into it because the moment his mind went back to you and how you helped him, his voice went so soft again. there was a quick pause and a small look of surprise on his face before he said “but you didn’t. and i’m grateful”, and the way he said it made me so emotional because you could tell how genuine it was. he’s so used to being told what to do and he said it would’ve been easy to just force himself through it, but for the first time, someone actually cared about HIS feelings and allowed him to make a decision for himself. then you can tell him you care about him and hug him, and the rest of the scene is the same as the first version.
i love both versions so much, but i got the second one in my playthrough and i’m so happy that i did. i think it was such a beautiful and important conversation to have and i’m glad that i was able to support him and allow him to make his own decision because it was such a big thing for him. depending on which dialogue options you choose, you can also get him to confess his initial plan to seduce you like he did in the first scene, or you can just leave it at him thanking you and remind him that he never has to do anything he doesn’t want to do. i feel like that moment also made him realise how much he actually loves my character and how much she loves him. the first version is really sweet too but i feel like there wasn’t a big specific moment that triggered it. you just need to romance him, have high approval and reach moonrise and then it just automatically triggers as part of the romance. but with the second version, i like how you actually had to go out of your way to unlock a specific scene and stand up for him, because later that night he makes the effort to come up to you and thank you and tell you how much it meant to him.
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boo!
halloween scenarios with genshin characters!
characters; cyno, tighnari, scaramouche, hu tao, nilou, shenhe
; gn!reader, fluff, mentions of ghosts and scaramouche's real name (spoiler?)
CYNO
"what is that?" he bluntly asks, confusing settling within his features as he sits himself beside you. "that doesn't look like a face."
"shut up...!" a cry of embarrassment escapes you, "you know i'm bad at carving pumpkins!" feeling a bit too festive, you had decided to do something for the upcoming day of halloween. though it seems like your choice of activity wasn't exactly best suited for you.
a comical tear slides down your face as you turn to your deformed and questionable-looking pumpkin once more. i'm sorry, little guy.
he gently takes your kitchen knife into his own, letting a small snort leave his lips when your tearful expression quickly morphs into one of hopefulness. "you can carve, cyno?" you lean towards him, watching as he stabs into a new pumpkin nearby.
"no, i just want to try it out. don't expect too much."
a small smile falls on his face as he side eyes your curious expression, earning a raised brow from you. "what? something wrong?"
"if my pumpkin turns out ugly, let's name it alhaitham."
you gasp.
TIGHNARI
it's obvious from his stare that he's not amused a single bit. his eyebrow twitches when he hears you snicker beneath the blanket covering your form, arms outstretched to mimic a ghost.
"your reaction's priceless!" your laugh resounds throughout your shared home as you turn on the lights, not bothering to remove the blanket over your form as you double over. pissing tighnari off is a favourite pastime of yours.
"that jumpscare, if you could even call it that, was utterly lame." he sighs, your laughter ceasing to little giggles.
"what's so funny, hm?" oh, he's starting to get irked.
your laughter abruptly pauses when you feel his hands through the blanket over your body, gliding from your shoulders down to your hips, him seemingly trying to feel up your body to avoid accidentally hurting you.
"you're getting warm, dear." he mischievously whispers from behind you, "where'd all that laughter go?"
his head buries into the crook of your neck, your breath hitching when he suddenly starts tickling you. you shriek at the contact.
"TIGHNARI!!"
SCARAMOUCHE
"kuni, look! it's you!" he glances at you up from his paperwork, your hands holding a gingerbread man with a rather familiar dark-colored bowl cut, along with its grumpy face.
"do you want me to kill you?" he scoffs in annoyance, attempting to take it before you pulled it away from his reach.
you hold up a finger, "no thanks, my love." you smile innocently as he scowls at you, "aren't you just proving my gingerbread version of you is accurate when you act like that?"
"it won't be accurate anymore after i destroy it."
"aw." you feign a false expression of sadness. "but i love this little guy." pressing a chaste kiss atop the cookie you're holding, you giggle at how his scowl deepens.
he stands up from his seat, eyes darkened in silent rage as you fumble for words.
you panic when he starts approaching you, flailing your hands as you try to calm him down, "w-wait! it's just a joke—hpmh!"
it takes you a second to register that he's kissing you, lips molding against yours as he grips your hips close to him.
he parts away from you for a moment, glaring at you with a slight offended pout on his lips as you try catch the breath that was abruptly taken from you.
"why kiss that stupid cookie when the real deal is right here in front of you?"
HU TAO
"trick or treat!" she yells from atop her lungs, continuously pressing on the doorbell out of pure excitement.
you sigh tiredly. "we might get kicked out if you continue screaming like that—" your words are cut off when an old woman emerges and opens the door.
"hello, dearies." her wrinkly eyes scan both of you, a small gasp escaping her lips as she exclaims, "oh! matching costumes, i see. how adorable!"
hu tao is smiling as the old lady places candies onto her pumpkin bucket, "mhm! they're my lover, and i totally didn't force them to wear that for tonight. :D"
the lady laughs as you bow in respect, "sorry, she's a bit hyper because she loves halloween."
"oh no, no. it's quite alright. just make sure your little girlfriend doesn't run off, hm?" you snicker at the lady's words.
"i heard that!" hu tao pouts next to you.
pressing a kiss to her cheek, you abruptly pinch it afterwards, causing her to whine out in pain.
"you're supposed to hear it, dear."
NILOU
"eek! why did she just leave her boyfriend in there alone!" you hug her arm, worry and panic on her face as she immerses herself into the movie.
"why are they both in their underwear?" she curiously asks, not quite getting the fact that they were secretly doing the frickle frackle up until the serial killer broke inside their home.
"AAH!" you scream in fear, hiding behind nilou as she stiffens when blood is splattered all over the screen.
"they got killed...! oh no!" she covers her mouth in shock as you turn away in fear and disgust, hiding away at the nook of her neck.
"s-scary...!" you tremble behind nilou, her hand subconsciously reaching up to pat your head soothingly as she pulls your body to her chest.
"this movie is quite interesting...though i don't understand the plot..."
she's utterly confused at why 10 rifles from the police all managed to miss one man holding a mere sickle whilst you're crying like a baby in her hold.
normal day for you guys, i guess?
SHENHE
you thought you were a genius for inviting shenhe to a haunted walkthrough, finally seeing an opportunity to see your girlfriend scared for once.
"what is this?" she stares at the spooky entrance.
"a haunted house, well, a fake one. but it's gonna be fun, i swear!"
"if you say so." she lets herself get dragged by you, noticing you're more cheerful than usual.
"why are there so much cobwebs yet no real spiders?" she asks curiously, seeming fascinated by the amount of 'spooky' stuff there is inside the house. isn't it supposed to be habitable?
"you see, that's part of the attraction—AH!"
"BOO—!"
the poor employee behind the ghost costume is knocked out as your girlfriend punches him, the man falling to the floor as stars fly over his head.
"s-shenhe! why did you—?!"
"the evil man tried to attack you, [name]." she coldly glares at the ghost cosplayer beneath her feet. "i will bring you justice." she grabs his head harshly.
"shenhe, no!"
#cyno x reader#scaramouche x reader#tighnari x reader#nilou x reader#hu tao x reader#shenhe x reader#genshin x reader#har❗fiction#genshin impact headcanons#genshin drabbles#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact fanfic
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Hello! I saw that your request is open so if you don't mind could i ask for a Jack or Ace's version of Fem!MC and friends?👉👈 I love the one you did for Deuce, I have a soft spot for the first years boys 🥺Thanks in advance 🖤
Oh, Deuce is great and deserves the love! You have good taste.
Gonna choose Ace for thsi since his suitor suit and galla outfit SCREAM for an female!mc and friends version!
Gonna go with three cards/events or else its gonna get too long ;;
Female!MC and Friends - Ace Trappola
Ace. Trappola. Sigh.
This guy is...surely...certainly...something, alright.
The way he speaks, the way he behaves, the one-of-a-kind smirk he wears...it's all just "Ace".
You knew that from day 1 when he teased you relentlessly and even got you and Deuce in trouble. Your prediction that he would keep getting himself and you in trouble still rings true.
Although, you cannot deny that he...seems to have grown fonder of you in a way.
When He...Proposes To A Ghost?!
Oh no. This is too funny.
Quite the predicament Idia (and your entire dorm) has gotten into but you never thought you'd see the day where Ace - ACE - would...dress up in a suit with slick hair and...a ring in his palm.
You try not to laugh, really, really hard - you really, really try not to but...just LOOK AT HIM!
Actually, laugh to your heart's content cuz this guy would have done the same if you were in his shoes. Aaaand for all the other things he'd tease you for in the future.
Yeah, yeah...go ahead and get yer sides sore, you'll see that Ace will sweep that egotistical princess off her feet!
...Even if she doesn't have those anymore.
Besids, what's there to laugh about? Can't you see how he dolled up to be the 'perfect, ideal prince'?
In fact, with a sneaky, toothy grin, Ace is sure that he already made you fall for him right then and there when you saw him in this get-up! Go on, admit it, it's okay. It's like love at first sight...he just needed to look his best for you first!
If you brush him off and say, hah, 'in your dreams', then prepare to have him hang on your shoulder until he has to go and steal the heart of the bride (which he is sooo confident in). Ace will smirk and cackle, poke and provoke you until you just HAVE to admit how wonderfully good-looking he is right now! Oh man, you are just brimming with jeaously that you aren't the one proposed to by Ace, right~? Right~? C'moooon, just admit it!
He'll swing by like a hero, hold your hand and pretend to kiss your knuckles and whisper these stupid, corny lines he read in a manga once - and IF YOU DO BLUSH AND FLUSTER (DO NOT!) YOU CAN BET YOUR LIFE SAVINGS THAT ACE WILL SNAP FROM FAIRY TALE PRINCE TO BAFFONERY PEASANT AND LAUGH AT YOUR FACE
Did you just reaaaally fall for that?! OMG OMG how come he never noticed that you get all flustered like that so easily????
New weakness aquired.
Ace will exploit it.
However, if you play along, you will certainly make HIM blush. What the...??? H-hey, that was just a joke...don't you know we are actually fake proposing here? H-haha...weirdo.
And if you pretend to be Eliza for practice and Ace has to act and say all those things to you? Uh, dude, I mean, l-like thanks for the help but...aren'tchu takin' this waaaay too seriously? Ace got this, you don't need to...you know...
Ace will at first tease you if you try to get he attention of the bride too by wearing a suit. But, well, he will definitely deny of having glanced at your direction if you catch him...
A dress, however? Blushes a bright red, red as his suit. Whoa, whoa, aren't you going a bit too far? Like, way too out for this? You should be wearin' something like that for your real wedding. Not a fake one...(that is to a ghost and not him...)
Anyone with eyes can tell that Eliza is not Ace's type, so if you ask him, he might need time to think. He'd glance at you from time to time and grows a bit nervous under your gaze...
He'd give you an vague answer.
When He Impresses Fairies...
Ugh, seriously? Does he have to make a show for some selfish fairies while wearing this?
Well, at least you are here to join him in the humiliation. Shared pain is...uh, double the gain?
Whatever, Ace can pull this off with your aid. In fact, he might feel more motivated with you by his side, especially if he sees you as another 'audience memeber'.
You are one of his biggest fans when it comes to his magic tricks anyway, right? So having a familiar face here in this show eases him.
These white robes though...as annoying and odd as they might seem, they kinda make you two look like a magic duo! Not bad! And hey, when he looks at them a second time, they ain't soooo ugly anyway...
Well, they certainly look good on you...
The flowers are the confetti on top. Kinda cute to see these butterflies flutter all over yer head. Just don't let them nestle in your hair!
Actually, as dumb as this is, you two CAN act like a magic duo! He is The Great Trappola (roll the r) and you...! Eh, his assistant. Any great magician needs an loyal assisant!
Not like you can do magic anyway, hehe...
Be amazed at his awesome tricks and praise them with jazz hands! Just make him look good.
Y'know, Ace wasn't sure why the clothes were this royal white anyway...but now that he thinks about it, with the flowers and accessories...you kinda look like a fairy. A non-palm-sized fairy! Haha, maybe that'd be the kind of stuff they'd wear if they were as big as you and him...
Heh, you could maybe even be their fairy princess! Or their fairy queen! Go on, tell 'em off and have you two be excused~ OOh, go tell them to serve you two and give extra special attention to the magician guy!
...Oh! H-hey, don't get this the wrong way. Dummy, it's not like you got some ethereal, fey-like beauty about'cha or somethin'...hey, don't laugh! Be glad that The Great Trappola (roll the r) compliments you!
When He Is Stranded At an Island...
Omg, for real, he and everyone else is stranded on this lonely, beautiful, tropical beach whatever shall they do - SIKE THIS IS THE BEST IT JUST MEANS EARLY SUMMER VACATIONS!!!
Are you kidding him? He can have earlier summer vacations on a beach with (almost) no one to bother and berate him?! (Aside from Riddle). This is the best!
Screw learning. No matter how his grades are, he deserves this!
Will definitely take it easy the minute he lands there. Might even berate you to NOT take this seriousy and just relax with him~ The upper classmen will take care of this~
Ace is gonna take advantage of this and drag you to any relaxing activity that there is. Swimming, collecting shells, building sandcastles, cracking coconuts open...
This is a one-in-a-lifetime chance! He ain't gonna miss this!
Realy likes his outfit and will compliment yours too! Dressed like this, how can you not just take a few vacation days?
Kinda wants you two to match? Not in a cute couple way but more like a 'we-are-so-rich-and-the-bosses-here-look-at-us-match-with-our-superiourity' kinda way.
In fact, this could a way to make amends for the winter vacations last time. You know, with *whispers* Jamil-senpai's overblot? yeah, that.
Ace may not be able to show you around his hometown but he can help you have a good time here! Just follow his lead!
He is surprisingly very attentive here. Making sure you are okay and have fun at all times...it's nice.
He'll make things into competitions like collecting the prettiest sea shell or building sandcastles together. Ace will like swimming together the most though.
Jokingly taking his shirt off and flexing but if you were to do the same thing or wear something more skin-revealing, he'll shut up quick. C'mon Ace, get it together...this isn't the frist time you've seen a girl in a swimsuit...or swimear in general...but...you aren't just some random girl...
He'll get it together, don't worry. It just...takes time.
#request#twst#twisted wonderland#twst x reader#ace trapolla#ace trapolla x reader#female!mc#female!reader
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Can we have a deeper analysis in Sabo's shape language study please? It's amazing how you make him give different vibes with just his hair and I like to understand how does that work.
Oh. I'm SO glad you asked.
(The Post In Question)
Okay so this isnt the first post ive made about shape language,
Here are the others:
ASL Shapes Strawhats Shapes
i'm just gonna copy and paste the definition i have for shape language from those posts here so i dont have to write it all again.
Shape language is defined as “a concept used in art and animation to communicate meaning based on shapes we are familiar with” (source). This concept uses circles, triangles, and squares to convey an idea of the “personality” of the design without using any words.
In designs, using circles and rounded edges in your silhouette and detailing gives the design a soft and squishy look. They tend to be harmless, approachable, or changeable.
Designs using squares gives the design a solid, sturdy, and strong look. They are supportive, reliable, and inflexible
Lastly, triangle designs are sharp and directional. They are dynamic, dangerous, and unpredictable.
That's base level but here's more in depth description of each design for ya:
this one is up first!
You may notice how in this design, his hair isnt in large clumps like the others are. His hair falls delicately and waves gently with little to no hard angles.
In this design, i was trying to convey the idea of "he wasnt born to fight, but he's molded himself into someone who will." I tried to depict that by making his hair all light and feathery, his facial features soft and rounded, but also showing how he's modified his body in a pointy and aggressive way.
I didn't want to only go hard edges with the piercings though because much like he's strayed from his mold of being delicate, he's also strayed from his mold of being a cruel noble. so some of his piercings are rings, AKA: Circles.
You may also notice the different in how I've drawn the collars of these guys. the collar of this Babo's black coat falls softly, and its' arc is rounded. The shoulders don't have any padding and it rounds at the corner.
This Man Is Round.
Next up is this Freak
This is supposed to be Triangle Him.
His hair is in larger, hard angled clumps. Indicating that he probably cut his hair himself. He did... greattt. I already headcannon him as someone who cuts his own hair, but i dont think this one ever gets any better at it.
The hard angles on his teeth, his scar, his jaw, his collar, that line i forgot to erase on the left, and his coat all give indication that this guy is Dangerous and you probably shouldnt mess with him.
I didn't have any real deeper meaning to this version, I just wanted to make him look as opposing as I could. this guy is "what you see is pretty much what you get."
Even though he doesn't have a lot of deeper meaning, I think this one is my favorite of the designs. I really love these colors on him and his hair was really fun to draw. I think I wanna draw him again at some point. I think this version of him would be very funny paired with Koala. I'm chuckling thinking about it:
Koala and her Armed and On Fire kindergartener
And lastly this guy
Sabo's base design is very rectangle coded. From his Hat, to his face shape, to his coat. So this version was very easy to make as I didn't actually need to change that much!
I think maybe I could've made his design a little more complex? But also I think there is a beauty in simplicity for this one. He looks straightforward, reliable, and kind. He seems like the kind of guy who gets his hands dirty, not because he likes doing it, but because he does what he must for the greater good.
I really love his hazel eyes, too. I think it brings a nice warmth to his design that is really nice.
Additional comments:
I love talking about this stuff. I love designing. I love art. I love drawing so much it's so fun
Everytime I get to sit down and make some funky doodles my brain feels like 🧠🤸🧘🧜🧚🙋♀️🙋♀️🧚💃💃💃💃💃💃
If you got this far thanks for reading :)
I usually have a description for my designs and my choices and stuff and I forgot to do one for this post, it makes me happy to see that it was missed :)
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pairing || hobie brown × fem!spider woman!reader
summary || in your universe he's there, but not anymore and in his, you don't exist
note || this is short and antsy because I wanna try how you all like my hobie, so let's go. Reblog, comment and/or follow!!!
Your eyes scanned the room, heart-stopping once you saw someone…someone you’d never thought you’d see again, him, the love of your life.
A tear escaped your eye which you quickly wiped away, debating if you should go up to him and say something, anything, whatever your mind could think of. God, he looked just like the night you lost him.
“He’s not the Hobie you know,” a voice whispered, Miguel had laid a hand on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts.
“But he’s right there, I can see, hear him, feel him, he’s real,” you pressed out, eyes watering even more. You didn’t want to believe Miguel, why shouldn’t this be your Hobie? No, he had to be lying.
Miguel sighed, it was nothing new to him as he felt the same when he saw another version with his daughter. Having to tell himself it’s not her, it’s not him.
You couldn’t grasp how this wasn’t your Hobie, wanting to go up to him, hug him and hear his voice again. Just once, only for a moment, but Miguel stopped you and his expression was filled with guilt, but why? It wasn’t his fault, “he doesn’t know you, in his universe you don’t exist,” god, he didn’t want to tell you, however, he needed to.
Nothing came from your lips, there wasn’t anything you could think of to say, body almost limb.
“Here you can be friends, maybe it will help you overcome your grief,” his words were meant to help you, and encourage you but all they did was hurt you further.
You couldn’t be with him in the way you wanted to, why was it not possible? It had to be possible. You wanted to scream by now, fall to your knees and let the tears stream down your cheeks, your feelings were too strong.
“Let me introduce you,” Miguel gave you a comforting squeeze on your shoulder. Taking a deep breath you followed him.
Miguel cleared his throat to gather the attention of everyone, "meet Spider-Moon," he introduced you. Hesitantly you stepped forward, everyone was looking at you, but your eyes were only on one person.
"Peter B. Parker, nice to meet you! So, your name is Spider-Moon, that one's new! How did you get it?" a Spider-Man with brown hair and a toddler? Started talking, sounding cheerful and welcoming.
However you were a bit taken aback by his manner, "because of my suit," you answered his question.
"I'm Hobie, nice meeting ya Moony," his voice smooth and deep, the accent that made you melt every single time. Then the nickname, by god you thought you weren't hearing it clearly but you did, your Hobie called you that too.
"What?" you asked, all color drained from your face. Hobie looked confused, and went to repeat his sentence when Miguel cut in, "let's move on."
"No, I gotta go," you quickly forced out and sprinted out of the room.
How could he not be your Hobie? Even the nickname was the same, it didn't make sense. Tears rolled down your cheek, you couldn't hold it together anymore, you had to let go. Maybe you couldn't be the hero you wanted to be after all.
"Everythin' alright Moony?"
remember my inbox is always open for any thots, ideas, news – literally anything
reblogs or comments are welcome!
#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown angst#hobie brown#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x female reader#hobie brown fic#hobie brown fanfiction
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Eternity
Love is being willing to wait for them.
a @steddielovemonth prompt | 2085 words | CW: anxiety, sort of unrequited love | Rating: T
--
“Can we talk?” Eddie whispers, a hand on Steve’s elbow, “Just us?”
Steve nods, a tight smile on his face that he hopes doesn’t come off as uncomfortable as it feels. “Later?” He motions to the bowl of popcorn he’s carrying. “I can come over after?”
“Later,” Eddie says, his eyes warm and bright as he gives the tiniest smile in return. He doesn’t seem to notice how tense Steve’s body is as he squeezes his arm and leaves him in the kitchen, slinking back into the Wheeler basement.
It takes all of three seconds before Steve’s face is falling and his heart is threatening to explode. He knows what this is about. Knows that when he heads over to the Munson trailer, he’ll have to face the music.
Over the past few months, Eddie Munson has filled a gaping hole in Steve’s chest – with his wicked sense of humor and strong convictions that flip the norm inside out. He’s given Steve something he’s been missing for so long, long before he and Tommy H stopped hanging out and the social pressure became too much: a friend.
But he’s more than that, isn’t he?
Steve takes a deep breath and shoves everything into a box deep in his mind, like he’s been doing since he saved Eddie back in March (since Dave Easom used him to train the new lifeguards, his bare chest rubbing against Steve’s back, strong arms holding him up as big hands held him tightly). He has to perform, has to be the guy everyone expects him to be, just a little while longer.
Robin pats the seat beside her when he finds his way back to the basement.
He hands her the bowl and drops down onto the creaky couch. “What’d I miss?”
“Jeff came up with this plan for the guys to split up, but Nancy thinks splitting up is a bad idea and will lead to a trap. And since they know that one of the pathways is an illusion, she’s not sure it's worth the risk. They’ve been arguing in circles and I’m pretty sure their in-fighting was a part of Eddie’s plan all along,” she says in between bites of popcorn. “Honestly, they all need to listen to Erica and just trick the wizard into revealing the illusion so they eliminate one of their choices.”
“So more of the same?” Steve asks.
Robin hums. “Precisely.”
Steve slouches and rests his head on her shoulder. She wiggles under him and the next thing he knows, he’s laying on top of her while her non-buttery hand runs through his hair and she shovels popcorn into her mouth with the other.
The drill of the game and the soothing motions of Robin’s hand in his hair lull Steve into that space between consciousness and sleep he both loves and hates. His thoughts wander, circling Eddie like a flock of vultures ready to swoop in and rip the false sense of security Steve has.
Because he knows Eddie wants to talk about them. And Steve wants there to be a Them, but…
How can he give himself over to another person when time after time everyone has proven he’s unable to provide in a relationship? When he doesn’t know how to open himself up and be vulnerable with the person who is meant to know everything? He’s just a bullshit version of who he thinks he’s supposed to be – he doesn’t know how to be a real person.
And Eddie deserves that! He deserves to have someone who can be there for him wholly and with enthusiasm.
Steve’s just not sure he can do that. Not when he’s barely acknowledging the flutter in his stomach when Eddie says his name or looks his way. Not when he genuinely feels like he could be sick when he thinks of his father finding out. Not when all he wants to do is hold Eddie’s hand while they walk down on Main Street, but they can’t without risking their goddamn lives.
Eddie can barely exist on his own, was already the town pariah for his music and clothing choices, for the things he’s interested in that were completely harmless long before the murderer propaganda started. Being in a public relationship with a man is not going to do him any favors.
And Steve’s not sure he can sneak around. That’s just… He doesn’t know how to contain himself in small increments; he’s either all in or burying it all deep for no one to find.
He buries his head into Robin’s shoulder. She has an idea about his feelings and the labels he refuses to give himself. She knows how flustered Eddie makes him, is ready to tease him for falling for the man whenever Steve is, but until then, she’s a rock. Solid and steady, offering support when needed, but letting Steve process it at his own speed.
“I need to come over tonight,” he whispers to Robin. “Eddie wants to talk.”
“Oh,” Robin says, cupping the back of Steve’s head briefly. “I’ll have all your favorites ready for you when you get to my house.”
Steve doesn’t have to say anything or force a smile. She gets it.
The game ends too quickly and the kids are dropped off to their respective destinations even quicker, so Steve makes his way over to Forest Hills and tries to capture whatever confidence has escaped him over the last few weeks. Wayne’s truck is gone when he pulls up, but the lights on the van are still on, Eddie must have just gotten home.
He can do this.
Steve climbs out of the Beemer and pockets his keys. He makes it up two steps before Eddie’s opening the door for him, grinning way too big for the heartbreak Steve’s about to give him.
Because that’s what this is: Steve’s about to break Eddie’s heart.
He wants to be able to be with Eddie fully, but he knows that’s not fair. Not when someone else could give him more before Steve’s able to.
“You got here quick,” Eddie says as they settle on the couch. He’s so open with his body language: back against the corner of the couch, one leg crossed over the other so his ankle dangles off his knee, arm along the back of the couch, elbow propping his head up on the arm of the chair. There’s this easy going smile on his face too, like he’s luxuriating in whatever he’s experiencing.
“Yeah,” he says. Steve doesn’t feel too bad about still wearing his shoes, needing them for a quick escape, when Eddie’s boots are still on his feet, laces undone. He doesn’t let himself lean back into the couch, no matter how much it wants to suck him in.
Eddie waits a full beat before he jumps up, shifting so his body faces Steve and his hands are in his lap, fingers worrying around one another. “So,” he draws out, “I have something I need to tell you.”
Part of Steve feels like he should stop Eddie, to cushion some of the blow before Eddie puts his heart on the line, but he can’t. He’s frozen in place and foolishly thinking there’s still time for Eddie to say something else. For all he knows, Eddie’s about to invite him to play Dungeons & Dragons or something!
Who is he kidding?
“Okay,” Steve says, feeling like he’s outside of himself.
Eddie clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back as he reaches for Steve’s hand. “You have been a really great friend, probably the best I’ve had who knows my secret. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I… I can’t imagine my life without you, man.”
“Eddie,” Steve whispers.
“No, no, just hear me out,” Eddie says, scooting closer. “I’m alive because of you. And I was able to recover and stay alive because of you. I… Dude, I’ve shared more with you than I’ve ever been comfortable sharing with anyone.” His voice drops down to a whisper as it trembles a little. Eddie blinks harshly and looks up to the popcorn ceiling. “I’m tired of running, Steve, so I’m just going to say it. There’s… something here, Stevie. I can feel it. And maybe it’s one-sided and I’m projecting how I feel onto you, but I don’t think so. I think you can feel it, too.”
Steve feels himself shifting back, his leg bouncing with the need to go.
Eddie takes another deep breath and moves so they’re eyes are locked. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”
His eyes are watering. How long has he waited for someone to say those words first? And now he can’t even accept them.
“Eddie, I…”
Eddie’s smile dims as his eyes grow softer. “I know,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“It is,” Eddie says, squeezing Steve’s hands. He’s so close their knees knock against one another. Steve feels like his body is about to split down the middle, one half needing to be closer to him and the other wanting to get as far away as possible. “Because we’re going to be okay.”
Steve cocks his head to the side. “What?”
Eddie just nods like it’s the most obvious statement possible. The sky is blue, water is wet, and Steve and Eddie will be okay. “Do you trust me?” Eddie asks, his voice a little stronger.
“Of course,” Steve says quickly.
That gets the bright smile back on Eddie’s face. “I didn’t tell you how I feel for you to act on it,” he admits. “I needed to tell you so you knew, in case you were scared to say it first, but I don’t expect you to get down on one knee and profess your undying love to me. But our friendship is special and strong enough that I think I can tell you about my feelings and it won’t change things too much. I know you won’t hate me for it and maybe you’ll reciprocate one day, maybe you won’t,” Eddie shrugs, “but at least I’m being honest with you.”
Steve has to look away. “And if I can’t?”
“Can’t what, sweetheart?”
“Be honest with you?” Steve says through the lump in his throat.
There’s a big, heavy pause as Eddie pulls away from him slightly. Not enough to leave the bubble they’ve created, but Steve feels his absence anyway. “Are you… are you keeping the truth from me to hurt me?”
“No,” Steve says, looking back to see a very pensive Eddie.
“Are you doing it to deceive someone or something?”
“I’m not like that,” Steve says.
Eddie nods. “I know, I know. But if those things are true, and you’re keeping the truth because you need to for yourself, then we’re okay. I’ll always be here; so whenever you’re ready to tell me whatever it is, I’ll be here to listen.”
“Even if it takes forever?” Steve whispers.
“Baby, I’d wait an eternity to hear what you have to say.”
Steve turns his body fully to Eddie and fills his chest with the same air Eddie’s breathing, the air that's fueling him to push through the nerves and put himself out there. “I’m working through things. You said you’ve, um, known you liked boys since you were a kid?”
Eddie nods, takes Steve’s hand in his again.
“And you’ve never done the relationship thing, have you?”
“Not exactly a large dating pool for kids like me,” Eddie says with a hollow laugh.
Steve nods, biting at his lip. “I, um.” He clears his throat. “I need time to, like, figure my shit out. Because you’re not… wrong. It’s not one-sided,” he admits, glancing up to see the surprise and hope fill Eddie’s eyes. “But I’m not… I need time.”
“So take it,” Eddie says. “However long you need.”
“I can’t ask you to wait for me–”
“You’re not,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s face in his. He runs his thumb along Steve’s cheek. “I’m offering it. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
Steve just nods, leaning into Eddie’s touch. He’s going to have a lot to talk with Robin about tonight. Eddie may be willing to wait until the end of time for him, but Steve wants to feel this – the hope, the energy shared between them, the love that lies in the undercurrent of every word, action, and breath – as soon as possible.
“Thank you,” he whispers as he kisses the palm of Eddie’s hand.
--
Thanks to @lady-lostmind for betaing!
Ao3 Link
#ohstars fic#steddie fic#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steddielovemonth#whatislovedailyprompts#ohstars posting challenge
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Siren's call
*not my GIF
I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you!
Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is?
Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? -
Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more.
I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉
I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted!
Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅
Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)
You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.
If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.
Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.
When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.
At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.
He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.
In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.
He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.
You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.
“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.
Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”
“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”
“And?” Amalia prompted.
“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”
Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”
“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.
Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.
“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”
Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”
“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”
“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”
“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”
She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.
“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.
You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.
“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”
“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.”
Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.
“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.
“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”
“We could?” You questioned hopefully.
“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”
Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.
She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.
“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.
“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.
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The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.
You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.
The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.
Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.
You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.
You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.
When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?
You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.
“Am I dead?” He mumbled.
“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.
The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.
As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.
At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.
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It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.
All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.
“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”
You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.
The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.
You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.
You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…
The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.
“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.
Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.
“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.
“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”
She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.
You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”
“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”
“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”
“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”
Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.
You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.
You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.
“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.
“Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.
“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.
“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”
“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”
“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”
Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”
“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.
Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.
When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”
Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.
“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.
“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”
Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.
After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.
The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.
A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.
“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.
The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.
“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”
Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.
These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.
You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.
You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.
Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.
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Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.
He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.
“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.
You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.
“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.
“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”
He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”
“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.
“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.
“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.
“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”
“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”
You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”
“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”
“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”
“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”
“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”
“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”
He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”
He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”
He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.
“Isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”
“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”
He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”
“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”
“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”
“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”
“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.
“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”
“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.
“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”
“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”
“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”
He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.
“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”
You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”
“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.
“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”
He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.
“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”
“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”
He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.
“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”
“In what way?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”
“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”
He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.
“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”
He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.
“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.
“Okay?”
“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“
“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.
He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.
“No.” He said firmly.
“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”
He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”
“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.
He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.
“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?
“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”
You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”
He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.
“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”
The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”
“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.
“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.
“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.
He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.
One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.
He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.
When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.
You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.
He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.
You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.
His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.
You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.
“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.
“No,” you answered, much too quickly.
He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.
“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.
His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.
“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.
He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.
“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.
“Never again,” you promised.
“Okay.” He said softly.
He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.
You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.
“What happens now?” You asked quietly.
“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.
“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”
“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”
He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.
“What will you tell the crew?”
“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.
“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”
“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”
“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”
“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”
“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”
“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.
“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.
He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”
“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.
“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.
#nikolai lantsov#grishaverse#shadow and bone#nikolai lanstov x reader#smut#my writing#i wrote this#patrick gibson#i love him so much#zoya is my queen but not in this fic
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Hiii! Can you please do one where you are at a party and Rafe is your boyfriend, and you accidentally kiss/ fall asleep on another guy, and when you and Rafe get home he hurts the reader so bad that her face is full of blood or something like that? You can make it as dark as possible!!!!!
i loved your request baby! so i decided to mix all of these at once, lmk if you liked it or want a part two!!
gone girl
summary: you're so much happier now that you're dead.
everyone can start again, not through love, but through revenge.
warnings: domestic violence, dark rafe, she is just like amy dunne!!!! i love writing about unhinged girls soooo much yall have no idea
Sarah got the journal in hands, staring at John B in fear of what they might find. It was Y/n journal. Their missing friend's journal.
I was hiding inside the closet, desperatedly trying to stop crying. My whole body was shaking, i knew that Rafe was above mad at me. The guy of my dreams, the love of my life. I knew he was about to hurt me real bad.
"Y/n!" he shouted, making me close my eyes and pray to a god i didn't even believed in. I covered my mouth, trying to stay quiet, but it was impossible.
He punched the door of the room several times, and all i could think of doing was whisper to myself that it was all going to be fine, that maybe heaven did exist and i would finally see all my loved ones again. Thats when he shouted again.
"I'LL BREAK YOUR NECK, YOU HEAR ME? I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"
I softly placed my hands on my face, covered in blood. The blood was coming from my forehead, making a mess, my clothes were full of it. All started when i drank a bit too much and started acting like a normal person. Talking, smiling to people, making new friends. Rafe hated it.
Rafe wanted me all to himself. He didn't wanted me to interact with the outside world, it was already hard enough to convince him to let me go with him to this party... He hated seeing me happy if it wasn't for him. Maybe not happy at all, anywhere.
He would freak out for the smallest reasons. I even considered his actions reasonable at the first ones, but now, he really just wanted any excuse to hurt me. He saw me as his personal punch bag. His pretty doll to brag, have sex with and take his anger out. Nothing more. It wasn't like i even existed to him.
I knew i had to do something, but i couldn't. I swear it takes the strench of a god to set boundaries and respect yourself when you're someone like me and you're in love with someone like Rafe. So i just let him. And look at what this has lead me to.
Sarah had her eyes full of tears, John B hugged her. She knew it from the beggining, her brother murdered her friend. They all knew it.
It all started when i showed up at Midsummer's party. Being the new shy and sweet girl makes people create their own versions of you, the versions they want to. You're nothing but a blank paper for them to draw. You're whatever they want you to be, especially when they're rich fuckers.
It's so easy to trick people into believing your new lies of a life. You just need some stupid girl to be your friend; I got Sarah. She liked me so much for "who i was." People will love you when you don't stand for yourself, they love it when you're quiet and just let them vent and talk about themselvs for hours. It wasn't hard for Sarah to trust me and allow me in her life.
Then you have to act like you're a dumb whore, for guys like Rafe to fall in love with you. They just love a bitch with no brain, someone they can feel like they have the full control of. Pretend you're so sweet they can't help but crave you as their trophy.
Rafe had his eyes on me since i walked into that stupid party. Full of shallow, sad people hiding behind those ugly dresses and suits. All women like me, pretending for their husbands, who were also putting on a masculine performance. For who?
"You know i'll take care of you for the rest of my life, right?" He asked me, between groans, still inside me "You're mine, nothing will change that"
And i smiled, as the sweet and submissive girl i was to him. Nodding my head. I wasn't bothered by anything he did because i had his money. I was getting something out of this. I was being paid to act, he just didn't knew it.
Then he started acting phisically abusive. Well, that wasn't part of my deal. And he was no longer giving me money, as he started a theory about how i wanted to keep this money to runaway and start a family with some pogue, JJ of course. He was some creative piece of shit, but i had my good laughing.
He started being obsessive about this JJ topic after i pushed him away in a fight, after Maybank was mentioned. He couldn't believe his sweet girl would disrespect him like this. She always behaved, always let him hit her to teach her some manners, why was JJ suddenly a trigger?
I knew exactly how insecure Rafe was. How he used violence to hide how small and stupid he felt inside. And i knew how much jealousy could drive him insane.
He stared at me with wide eyes.
"Yo- you just... You fucking mad cause i'm talking about JJ? Is this what it is?"
"No Rafe, it is not. You're acting crazy"
"Don't fucking tell me i'm crazy!" He pointed his finger at my face.
"I didn't said you are crazy, i said you're acting crazy"
He slapped me. Hard.
"Fix that tone to talk to me"
I stared at him for seconds before i let tears fall from my eyes. Slowly coming closer and doing the best puppy eyes i could ever. "I'm so sorry daddy, you know i love and respect you more than anything. I just want you to trust me. It hurts me that you would ever think i want anyone else when everything about me belongs to you"
His eyes softned at that, and he sighed. He felt weak. His hands went through his face and hair, anxiously.
"My princess...I'm so sorry." he hugged you. "You make me crazy, fuck. I just love you so much it turns into this. It's sick."
And i faked it so real, i was beyond fake.
"It's okay" i reassured, caressing his back. "I love this part of you, too"
His eyes were tearing up, he smiled.
"Say it again."
"I love this part of you too"
And there he was. The scared boy who just needed love. The pathetic little boy who never had attention or love from neither of his parents. The fuck boy who saw girls as mere objects to warm his dick for a while. The tough guy who punched everyone that slightly bothered him. The elitist son of a bitch. I got him.
"I wanted to make a surprise for you tonight" I smiled, cupping his face with my hands. Staring at him like i loved him unconditionally. "Can you come home after 9?"
He kissed me.
"Course, baby"
I'm so much happier now that i'm dead. Now that Rafe killed me.
I got everything i needed, his money. Not all of his money, just what i really needed. Half of it. I dye my hair a different color, a new haircut. Some different clothes i usually didn't wear, and here am i. In my way to the other side of the country. Leaving my journal and blood at his house. Making sure not only everyone would have sure that he murdered me, but my ghost would haunt him forever. He would never be able to know what happened, and how he killed me in the literal way. I didn't cared if he would rot in jail or not, he would die of insanity at some point. I can say that i killed for him. Who else can say that?
#rafe cameron#outer banks#x reader#rafe x reader#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#rafe cameron x reader#drew starkey#drew starkey x reader
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For some reason I've seen a lot of people disliking the way Jessica Jones season 1 ends. The vibe I've seen is that it wasn't epic enough, it was underwhelming, and that it was too simple and fast and Killgrave would be too smart to fall for it. etc etc.
I think these takes miss the point though. This is the only way he could have gone out, BECAUSE it wasn't an attempt to outsmart him at all.
The whole point is that Killgrave wasn't an epic villain, he was a weird misogynistic little control freak that was obsessed with owning Jessica because he couldn't stand that she was her own person.
The whole season is a game of cat and mouse between them, and you can see just how smart both of them are - they are both equally powerful and intelligent, BUT killgrave literally didn’t need to be doing this at all! He could have left ANY time, he didn’t have to send Hope after her, he could have left before the house, or after he escaped, or after the nightclub, literally WHENEVER
His obsession with controlling Jessica was always his downfall
She was the executioner, but in the end he brought it all on himself
He didn’t get an epic ending because it’s not ABOUT him and because he didn’t need one. It was never about outsmarting or overpowering him, it was about his incessant need for control and Jessica making a decision.
And it works SO WELL not just because it makes good commentary, but also because it mirrors exactly how Killgrave tried to get her to bend to his will; both of them aimed for each other’s emotional weak point - but killgrave failed because he doesn’t actually know or understand Jessica at all, just the version of her he made up in his head and made her play act like a little doll for him
He thinks her weakness is a hero complex, because the first time they meet she’s saving Malcolm from some muggers and killgrave asks her if it felt good to beat up those men, she says yes, and when he asks why she says
“Because I helped someone”
And he’s such an inherently selfish person that to him that translates to a hero complex - He can’t imagine a person who just wants to save people, not to bolster their self worth or to in some way help theme selves. He’s spent his entire life only doing things because he wanted to, because it brought HIM satisfaction, that the idea that someone might willingly do Anything that’s not to make them feel better doesn’t even cross his mind.
And that’s why at the house he shows her the (curated) videos of his childhood, why he “respects” her wishes about not hurting the nosy neighbor, why he goes and saves that family with her, and is genuinely helpful. His tactic to get her to stay with him is to show her how his powers can be used for good, show her he’s also a person who can experience pain and love and joy, and then make her ‘realize’ if she stays with him she could make him a hero and good person. Because he thinks she will sacrifice herself for him and for society if he presents it as a way to atone and heal her guilt.
But Jessica refuses. She betrays him and takes her own route while knowing if she had given up all her autonomy she could have made him a good person and saved countless lives. (I don’t think this was ever actually achievable but she believed it was so the point stands)
Jessica jones has a lot of problems, but a hero complex isn’t one of them.
But Jessica jones DOES know his weakness, his real weakness, her. Controlling the only person who could defy him. And yes it is an obvious and see through plan - Killgrave even calls it out! But then in order to prove she’s faking what does he do? He assaults Trish - and when she continues following his orders he FULLY believes it and completely lets down his guard.
Why? It’s such an obvious trick! He’s supposed to be clever!!!! Well it worked so well because he clearly WANTED to believe it so bad (self admittedly), he was drunk on his own power, he wanted to believe his own strength and he wanted to own Jessica again. But also because again
He thinks Jessica has a hero complex
Her allowing this to happen to her friend ? Jessica jones would never do this! He knows her so well! She just Can’t Help but Help people! If she was faking her helplessness this would have broken her out of it! (Also there’s the whole level of the jealousy he has of Trish and the love Jessica and Trish share but that’s for another post)
And so he dies, small, unable to speak, not being told he’s loved, with a simple snapped neck from a cheap, unplanned ploy, that was thought up on the spot. Just as he deserved.
#jessica jones season 1#Jessica jones#killgrave#david tennant#the defenders#trish walker#netflix marvel#marvel
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Calling it a warmup for a busy writing day ahead, but it’s really a present for @yamujiburo - I read that ask about my favourite awful feline scamming his way into two meals and got inspired. For the most accurate reading, Meowth is in his Maddie Blaustien era, because she was the best thing to ever happen to the character and that was the version of Meowth I love the best.
It was a beautiful, sunny day in Pallet Town, and Delia was in her vegetable garden; occupying herself while Jessie took Arbok and baby Ekans for a training day in Viridian Forest. Ash was supposed to be home soon, and she thought she’d make a fuss. She had some garlic growing, and a crop of beautiful tomatoes that were practically falling off the vine; she’d make a nice pasta sauce. Oh - and those razz berries were looking just delicious, too! Perfect for a sponge cake.
“Haaa...oh, woe is me...”
Delia looked up to see the strange little Meowth that Jessie and James had adopted on their travels wandering along the path that led to her home. Delia knew that Meowth had taken the breakup of Team Rocket to heart; he technically lived with James, but sometimes he just took himself off on an adventure to Pallet to bother Jessie for a few days. He’d follow her around, yammering about this and that, bringing up the Good Old Days, and Jessie would pretend to be annoyed by him right up until the second he planned to leave. Then, the tears would start.
“I just don’t tink I can go on for much longer...”
With a swoon, Meowth flopped down just outside Delia’s garden gate.
“Oh my goodness!” she cried, scrambling to her feet and running to his side. She scooped the Meowth’s massive head into her lap; noticing how hot his fur was to the touch. “Are you alright, Meowth?”
“Huh? Who’s there? Come closer...”
“It’s me, Meowth. Delia. Jessie’s partner.”
“Oh, Delia!” coughed Meowth. “You were always so - hack! - so kind ta me...”
“Have you walked all the way from Celadon City by yourself?”
“Yeah...James was busy for the weekend. Wit his fashion stuff, yanno. He said he didn’t have time to feed me, so I...hack, hack! I wanted to see a friendly face.”
“Well, Jessie’s not home right now --” The pitiful whine from Meowth didn’t so much tug on Delia’s heartstrings as yank them painfully out her chest. “But you can stay with me until she gets back! I have a glass of fresh lemonade chilling in the fridge, you really must quench your thirst after that long walk...”
“Really? You’d do that for lil’ old me-owth?”
“Of course, dear.” Delia set Meowth on his wobbly two feet. “Now, run inside and have a nice long drink. Then, when you’ve cooled off, you can help me pick some razz berries for later.”
“Okay!”
Meowth dashed into the house happily, and Delia tutted under her breath. She loved James - really, she did - but she sometimes wondered if he and Jessie forgot that Meowth was a living creature who needed their care. She couldn’t imagine Ash forgetting to feed Pikachu, after all.
“Yanno, I gotta say, Deels - can I call ya Deels?” Meowth asked, popping another berry into his mouth, “You got real a nice setup, here. All’a this food, just growin’ on your doorstep?!”
“Well,” Delia said, filling up her basket with berries, “it takes a lot of work. But I’m happy the end result is so tasty, Meowth.”
“Oh, yeah; an’ after such a long walk, too, I really - ooh, chezz berries! - I really needed some sustanance. So, whaddaya pickin’ all this food for, anyway?”
“Ash is home, soon. And I’m going to make pasta sauce from scratch, and a cake.” Delia looked out over the horizon; wondering idly what the plume of dust rising from Viridian Forest was. It seemed to be approaching fast. She hoped Jessie and the Pokemon were safe. “I know Pikachu will appreciate a good tomato sauce, and Ash always did love my sponge cakes.”
“Oh. How, uh, how nice. For the twerp.” Meowth chewed thoughtfully on a chezz berry. “Say, uh - d’you think I could maybe stay a lil’ while longer? Maybe, uh, try some of that pasta you was talkin’ about before I go...?
The plume of dust was getting closer. Delia watched it race along the footpath, until a familliar and beautiful and violently angry figure emerged from within it.
“Jessie...?”
“MEOWTH!” Jessie shrieked. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU’D GO RUNNING TO DELIA, YOU LITTLE SNEAK!”
Meowth was on his feet as Jessie crashed into the garden gate, Arbok and baby Ekans in hot pursuit. “Hahahaaaa...Jeeeessiiiiee!” he cried; voice breaking, hands held out in front of his body - trying either to placate his friend or protect himself from bodily harm, “Whaddareya doin’ here? Delia said you was out training Ekans in the forest?”
Delia blinked down at Meowth. “I didn’t tell you that,” she murmured.
“I was,” Jessie hissed, “until we met you and James for our picnic. Until you ate all the food and wouldn’t stop blabbing for longer than five seconds. Until James told you that you can’t have cupcakes because sugar is bad for Pokémon --”
“Dat’s a gross oversimplication of events, Jess --”
“And until you --” Jessie picked Meowth up by the face and shook him violently this way and that, “went flouncing off into the forest saying he shouldn’t have brought anything you couldn’t have, and that you didn’t need our stupid picnic anyway! I should have known you’d go to Delia with some sob story, you greedy little freak!”
Meowth kicked out, aiming for Jessie’s face with his long, brown-and-white feet. “At least she’s nice to me - unlike you, ya big nasty mean ol’ lady!”
“What did you call me you --”
“That’s enough.” Delia hated pulling out the Mom Voice, but as both of them fell into guilty silence, she had to admit it gave results. “Jessie, I know you’re angry at Meowth but I wish you wouldn’t hurt him like that.”
“Ha!” cackled Meowth, wriggling out of Jessie’s grasp. “See, Jess? You should be nicer ta me, coz Delia says so --”
“And you.”
Meowth froze.
“You took advantage of my kindness, Meowth. You lied to me and told me James was mistreating you. That really hurt my feelings, and I’m very, very disappointed in you.”
There was a long moment of silence. Then, to Delia’s surprise, Meowth plopped down onto the floor and began to sob. “I-I-I’m sooorryyyyyyyyy...” he wailed, thick wet tears falling down his cheeks. “I didn’t wanna hurtcha feelin’s, but everyone’s so busy and the gang’s all split up an’ you’re so nice an’ I just wanted someone ta be kind ta meeeeeee...”
“Meowth, kindness goes both ways. Now,” Delia pushed the basket of berries into his paws, “you can go wash these for me in the sink, and put them in the fridge until I need them. That would be a good thing to do, to show me how sorry you really are. You want to show me you can be kind?”
“Yeeees...”
“Then scoot.”
“Okaaay...”
Jessie watched her friend head into the house - head bowed, sniffling - with a look of total wonder. “Did you just get Meowth to admit he wants to go straight?”
“Yes,” Delia said, standing up and kissing Jessie on the cheek. “I did.”
#hanamusa#yamujiburo#pokemon#meowth#delia ketchum#team rocket#my best boy forever#donnie may be living in my brain#but Meowth is part of my genetic makeup at this point
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SAGAU Reverse Isekai W/ 'Zhongli'
Okay, so I came up with this idea months ago, and I plan to finish it but I have no inspiration right now. I'll make a part 2... Eventually...
Ft. Zhongli and 'Zhongli'
Tw. AFAB Reader (but pronouns aren't mentioned); Ends on an angsty cliffhanger that I remember made me cry
Published: December 31, 2023
Words: 1,044
Pages: 2.9
Okay, I don't know why, but I just had this idea where an AFAB reader/you gets isekai'd into genshin while pregnant, and in a matter of a couple months to a few years, you fall in love with and marry Zhongli. And like, maybe Zhongli revealed himself to secretly have been Rex Lapis/Morax, but I have this other idea where only the vessels of the Creator know. It doesn't really matter, this is only backstory to the main idea.
Anyways, you give birth to a healthy baby boy (also don't know why but it specifically has to be a boy), who grows up to be just like his step-dad Zhongli (who you had an army of kids with). And, for some reason, he disappeared, and it's soon discovered that he was sucked back into your original(?) world. You instantly want to go after him, but Zhongli stops you, worried that you going back to a world where you were powerless will make you powerless again, and you won't be able to come back.
And so you two decide to build robots in your stead. One for you and one for him. You, obviously, go to the original Raiden Ei for help (reluctantly if it's Imposter AU), and she gives you all these tips and tricks. And, with some of Albedo's help, you replicate a controller and monitor so you and Zhongli can puppet your robots. But in the event that the connection cuts, you go to Sangonomiya Kokomi and ask her to make a pair of manuals that will eventually be turned into the robot's AIs. Manuals specifically made to not only replicate your and Zhongli's personalities, but also act as everyday people in your homeworld. She does. And with Raiden's (and maybe Albedo, Kaveh, and Dottore's) help, you put it into the robots. Then you dress the bots in inconspicuous clothing and send them off.
Also, in the background, you figured out how to make a portal back to your world with Albedo, Dottore, and some other's help.
Anyways, just as Zhongli worried, the connection to the robots is immediately severed. And while the real you and Zhongli are left to worry, the robotic you and Zhongli interlock their arms, and start their journey. These are our main characters.
And they- you-- are very adorable. You talk to each other quietly, with you in wonder of the tech and food native to this world- even though you're both too busy to eat the food. And Zhongli's got this loving look on his face, and he wishes he could spend this new experience staring at your beautiful face. But he's made a contract with his real self to find his lost son, and he must complete it. For now, he can only chime in with his own wonder of the world. Of the cars, motorcycles, shopping centres, cafes, and fast-food places.
It takes a while to do find the son, with just over two weeks passing by. Over two weeks of endless searching, through day and night and wind and rain. But eventually, you find him, and the boy is ecstatic to see his parents. It's a bit heart-pinching to see someone shout for you and have them run up to you and wrap you in a tight, love-filled hug. Kinda makes you want your own kid- a kid not belonging to another version of you- that does that. And you feel a bit guilty as you and Zhongli have to lie to him and pretend that you are his parents.
Then your group starts the journey back to where you first appeared in this world. Where the real you has been opening a portal for an hour every sunrise and sunset. This also takes a bit of time, with breaks to get frankly delicious meals that Zhongli convinces people to pay for. And a break for a cheap, one-bed motel room that Zhongli also talks his way into acquiring. It's there that you and Zhongli break the news to the boy. Of course, the boy is shocked and mildly heartbroken, but understands. The both of you give him the bed for the night, and opt to cuddle as he sleeps.
Zhongli, before you can even bend, picks you up and sits on the floor, his back resting against the room's walls. You can't help but snuggle into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he tightens his arms around your waist. And you look up into his eyes, amazed by his beauty, and he looks down into yours, amazed by your beauty. And the two of you get lost in one another's eyes, loving every moment of it, and only ever breaking apart to press silent kisses on one another's lips. You two stay like that the entire night, entirely lost in love and never wanting to come out of it.
The next day is just a copy and paste of the first. You continue back to the portal, with breaks to get frankly delicious meals that Zhongli convinces people to pay for. And a break for a cheap, one-bed motel room that Zhongli also talks his way into acquiring. But the night is different from yesterday's night, as when the boy goes to bed, you both silently realize that when the boy returns home, your only task will be completed. There will be no reason for either of you to keep existing, and while Their Grace and His Lord are merciful, you know the people of Teyvat hate those with the Creator's face. The two of you know that your Creators will be kind in giving you quick deaths, but neither of you can stand the other dying.
Still, the both of you were made for a purpose. To find the lost Prince of Teyvat and return him to his parents. So you both continue with the journey. Never uttering anything on the topic, and only acknowledging it when the boy is sleeping. And even then, the most the two of you do is look into one another's eyes tearfully, exchanging sad, sloppy, kisses…
...Yeah, sorry for ending it like this.
Masterlist
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Hi <3 are you taking requests? If so, could i request some headcanon/senarios of yandere!five x yandere!reader? I love the manipulative reader series you did and imagine this version to be alittle similar with a dynamic sorta similar to joe and love from the netflix show 'you'.
When five first meets reader she comes across nieve but sweet and he falls for her innocence and kindness towards him. Shes always looking out for him and supporting him and he cant help but wanna protect her. Hes so preoccupied with spending time with her, scaring off any looks from other men and taking advantage of her kindness that he doesnt relise that the waitress at the cafe they went to together last weekend who had written her number on the inside of the napkin she gave to five when giving him and you your coffee has mysteriously gone missing..
He wonders if your just too innocent to really understand what hes saying when he vaguely admits hes done terrible things and you respond with a flippant 'me too' with a smile, little does he know you understand completely.
so i had some researchers about those two from 'you' series and now I'm interested in it!! anon, thank you ~
Five couldn't take his eyes off you.
For someone who is so good at controlling his emotions, he seems to have forgotten how he should behave in such situations.
Something about your pretty figure made him truly have an interest in you, forget about his job, about the obligation to be the hero in this story and spend another sleepless nights trying to save everyone.
And he definitely doesn't need to keep staring at you like that. Come on Number Five, you've got a lot to do and you're a very busy man, just turn away and start doing your work— Oh, fuck, now you noticed.
Five's heart beats faster when he sees your gaze directed right at him and his first reaction was to quickly look away and pretend that he was looking at the clock or just zoning out, while you, by a lucky chance, were just in front of him.
'Just a coincidence' , he justifies himself.
He grumbles, muttering something under his breath, until he finally turns away, trying to fully concentrate on his business and try to ignore that cute picture of your face in his head, your pleasant voice when you ask him to help you with something so simple, light touches on his shoulder when...
The sound of clicking pen is so loud that it's probably already getting on the nerves of his colleagues nearby, but he didn't care what they thought, when all he could think now was you.
You stand so close next to your work colleague that your hands can barely touch their body. You look happy, and Five genuinely enjoys the fact that you can stay in a good mood in any situation. That's why he works so hard for you. One of his main points is to keep watching the people he love are safe.
But could you step back for a couple of meters, please? The second, more jealous side of him is louder in his head and telling him not just to watch, but these are just simple work conversations during a break, right?
Five believes you, he is ready to trust you completely, but the people around you are not reliable and after all those years of his long, eventful life, he knows that every potential person that you meet can actually harm you.
Therefore, as your hero, he is obliged to intervene and protect you, the love of his heart, like a beautiful and not quite young prince, from a big and terrible villain.
You hear a noise behind you and a bright short flash of blue appears for a moment, which makes you smile slightly, already knowing what will happen.
You're holding a cup of coffee and you make an confused, surprised face as you turn around to look at Five, then give him your usual bright smile.
The person with who you just had conversation seems to be just as confused, but now for real, when they see Number Five in front of them, still as gloomy as usual.
Five comes closer to you, his hand resting on your interlocutor's shoulder and squeezing suspiciously tight, with a forced smile on his face that made the other person swallow nervously.
“Sorry friend, I hope you don’t mind if I steal them for a while?” 5 says, smugly grinning.
“Actually, we are—” the person starts, before Five interrupts them.
“Great,” he answers casually, focusing his attention at you instead, smile drops immediately as soon as he turns away from them.
Five is not even trying to listen to what they wanted to say, he quickly grabs your hand and blinks away, not bothered by what others will thought about this scene. Old man had enough of sharing you with everyone else today, now it's his time to be with you.
You almost stumble after this unexpected act of jealousy from Number Five, and his hand holds yours tighter, preventing you from falling.
A soft sighs comes from you when you notice that man's arms were held protectively around your waist.
“Please, warn me when you try something like that next time,” you lean closer to Five, trying to calm him down.
“I will,” he rolls his eyes. “If only you will promise me not to be all day around those idiots.”
You laugh at his words, appreciating his overprotective behavior towards you and only nod at him, which causes a soft satisfied purr from Five.
“Okay, okay,” you try to reassure him and give him a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “ The same goes for you.”
Five just closes his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, enjoying the time he can spend with you and only you alone. He didn't think twice before giving his answer, just quietly mutters : “Deal”.
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You love this old man so much, but sometimes you wonder if he does it on purpose?
Does he have to smile like that at every waitress in the cafe?
Should he call every woman he meets as 'dear?'
Does he have to stare at every woman named Delores? I thought you two go through this line a long time ago.
This might be just his politeness or the ghosts of his past, but it makes you clench your teeth in anger, every time you sit on your goddamn place trying to pick an order in this stupid shit hole.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you try to ignore the conversation around you, concentrating, or at least trying to focus your attention on the clock, counting seconds before your order arrives.
“How much longer do we have to wait?” you ask impatiently.
“Are you in a hurry, hun?” Five turns his gaze to you and smiles slightly.
You smile back at him and shake your head, resting your cheek on your hand as you look at him.
“I'm just so tired...” you say sweetly, sighing, to make your words more sounds like truth. “Can't we just take our order and go home instead?”
Five is silent for a moment, as if trying to see whether your words are true. But after a few seconds, he leans closer to you and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“If you really tired then let's go home.” he gets up from his seat to come and pick up your order.
You just nod and silently follow his every action with your eyes, watching from afar. You wanted to find any reason to leave as soon as possible, trying to exclude any attempts by that annoying waitress who is trying to get close to your lover.
And it was so fucking difficult to control yourself from grabbing that terribly hot coffee from her hands and just splashing it all over her face when you notice those obvious attempts to flirt with your Number Five.
You blink once, then again, interrupting your disturbing thoughts. No, you shouldn't have to think like that, you convince yourself. What will Five think if he saw you like this?
Your slight smile slowly fades from your face and you look rather bored, tilting your head slightly, deciding not to disturb this sweet conversation between the two.
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You were glad to be able to spend a good night next to your lover. Every moment of peace and quiet with Five was very dear to you, especially if it meant that somehow you were able to put this poor guy to sleep.
His hands always holding tightly onto your body, as if afraid to let go and at one moment wake up without seeing you next to him. You were dozing, head pressed against Five's chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat. You was so close to fall asleep again until you felt his hand slowly rubbing circles on your back as if trying to calm his nerves.
Slowly lifting your head up, you look at him with half-open eyes, silently asking what made him so worried in the middle of the night. This was not new to you, it's easy to predict that he might have possible problems with his sleep, knowing how lonely and abandoned most of Five's life was.
“I didn't mean to wake you up,” he mumbles softly, trying to avoid talking to you. “Just go back to sleep, don't worry about me”.
You pout playfully at his words, wrapping your arms around his waist and closing your eyes, “Five,” you whisper. “You don’t have to hide everything from me. Please, tell me what's on your mind and it will get better, I promise”.
Five sighs tiredly and it makes you sure that he will try to open up to you tonight. You never forced it on him, expecting that eventually, someday, he would feel comfortable enough to share with you the things that catches his mind. Your attention was focused on what he might said while your eyes were still resting from a hard, long day.
“Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve you after all the shit I've done,” he curses, frowning slightly. “I'm not sure you even understand me.”
“Many people have done bad things in their entire lives, besides, you had no other chance, Five,” you suddenly say, looking perfectly calm. “And me too, actually. We should just move on from that”.
Five pauses for a moment, his eyes concentrated on your relaxed figure next to him, enjoying the warmth between your bodies. It seems like you didn't really think about what you were saying because of how sleepy you were, Five thinks, so he don't have any idea about the significance of your words, deciding that you, as always, were just trying to support him.
Did you feel bad for what you did? Maybe, after all, you were the same living person, you tend to feel at least a drop of compassion. But right now, you don't care. The only thing that matters right now is to be with the person you care about. It seems that tomorrow morning you should remind Number Five not to go to your favorite cafe tomorrow.
“Yeah, of course,” he says, totally not taking your words seriously as he pulls you closer towards himself, finally closing his eyes and trying to rest, ending this conversation. “ Now let's get some sleep, love”.
#yandere tua#tua x reader#yandere x reader#five hargreaves x reader#yandere five hargreeves#yandere five hargreeves x reader#five hargreeves#umbrella academy x reader#yandere umbrella academy#tua imagine#yandere number five#number five x reader
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