#i really enjoyed writing this one!
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Makeover
@cullen-blue23
🧟💄💅🏻Prompt from the one I missed last time; Wen Ning using make up to make himself lol more alive
Part of the Wen Ning fucks agenda because I have found my calling as a Wen Ning simp.
Enjoy!
Wen Ning stares through the windows of the little makeup shop, at the many bottles, vials and colorful boxes on the shelves lining up the cream-colored walls - and the way the shopkeeper applies the finishing touches of makeup to her client. The young woman looks... regal, almost, the colors around her eyes and the shine on her lips enhancing her already delicate features. She looks... beautiful. Alive.
Wen Ning remembers how he tried to paint his nails one day, a light, fleshy pink. It never lasted, but it made him feel...good. Human.
Oh, how he wishes he also was...
It feels ungrateful to think this way - he isn't... fully alive, but he's not dead either, and that's more than he could have ever dreamed of the moment he succumbed to exhaustion and died all those years ago.
He has a home now, and a family, and he's trying to make a name for himself other than the Ghost General. He can go wherever he wants, do whatever he wants, he even has money now! He can travel the world and meet all sorts of people, learn all sorts of things...
Still, there is so much he cannot do anymore. Precise movements are difficult, and sometimes he feels stuck in his body, every sensation muted.
He doesn't feel a lot of the things people do. Most sensations he gets to feel have to be very intense for him to get anything out of it. And it's... weird. That's the word Wen Ning has decided to settle on, even if that's not quite right.
(What a shame, that he doesn't get to feel with his body, but his soul is still so painfully human.)
Anyway, he does wish he was more... alive. Or at least look it. He isn't sure he still remembers what he used to look like...
"You can just come into the shop, you know?" the shopkeeper smiles at him from behind her counter. "I promise I don't bite! ...well, not without prior consent at least!"
If Wen Ning could, he'd be blushing. A bit ironic, considering the things he's been getting up to lately...
Still, he decides he might as well - he's been staring like a creep for too long not to purchase anything, and perhaps he can find something here that's going to make him feel less... different.
"So, what can I help you with today?"
"I'm looking for... makeup."
The lady laughs, and Wen Ning feels like blushing again.
"Well, you've sure found it! But what exactly are you hoping to achieve? What kind of look would you like?"
Wen Ning feels suddenly very self conscious, out of place in the shop, in the world.
"I want... to look more... alive."
The lady laughs, again. "You know, that's a very common request. And anyway, I see people that look dead-er than you on the daily! Go sit by the window and I'll try to work my magic!"
He does as instructed and struggles a little bit not to feel silly about it. What is he even doing here? The fearsome Ghost General is getting his makeup done.
The lady return from the back of the store carrying a few items. "I brought some foundation and some blush, I tried to go for the lighter colors because you don't seem like you had a dark skin tone."
"Oh, no, I used to burn very easily in the sun too..."
"This is the powder for your face, it's a bit thicker so you're going to need a special brush to apply it." The lady explains as she opens the cap to a round box and dips a thick brush into it. "The good thing about your skin is that it's even-toned, so the color should apply seamlessly, with a great finish."
She moves the brush expertly over Wen Ning's skin, focused. "You have very beautiful features, Wen-gongzi."
"Um, thank you..."
She moves the brush down his neck, applying the product in quick, precise strokes, as far as his robes show skin. "I'm not just saying that, my livelihood is beauty, I deal with it all the time, and so when I tell you that you're beautiful, I mean it."
Wen Ning doesn't know if the lady should be so close to him, but she seems not to notice the sudden few inches less of distance between them as she evens out the powder around his nose and cheeks. This feels... weirdly intimate.
"Say, can I do something for your eyes too?" she asks as she finally finishes livening up Wen Ning's complexion, adding blush powder onto his cheek bones.
"Something like what?"
"Eyeliner, maybe? I think it would make your eyes pop, give you that seductive gaze, know what I mean?"
He looks away, sheepish. "Not-not really..."
The makeup artist laughs, picking a small container off a nearby shelf. "I promise I won't overdo it, and if you don't like it, I'll wipe it off, okay?"
Wen Ning nods and closes his eyes, only to feel a tender swipe over each of his eyelids in turn. His makeup artist works very quickly. But so very closely to him.
"You can open your eyes now, I have a mirror you can look in."
And so, Wen Ning does. The reflection in the mirror is him - it is, but not really. His skin is glowing, his eyes appear painted on, lively, no longer faded, and just a bit less lifeless.
It's him if he was alive, if nothing went wrong, if-
"Everything okay?"
He blinks his thoughts and his phantom tears away. "Yeah, yeah, everything is... okay."
The makeup artist scrutinizes his features, curious. "Can I try some eyeshadow on you as well?"
"I guess...?"
The makeup artist already sweeps her eyes around her collection of displayed powders. "Are there any colors you don't like?"
"No red, please. Anything else is fine..."
She nods, and reaches for three little boxes. "I'm thinking some warm browns would compliment your look well, and I also just got this glittery powder that catches really prettily in the light, I think it will look amazing on you!"
Wen Ning flutters his eyelids closed. He's excited, almost - having seen how well the makeup artist has revived his complexion, he can only wonder what other things she'll surprise him with.
He feels the tender touches of brushes, the closeness with the other person - and he knows he's going to become a regular customer. He enjoys this, the feeling of being pampered, of being made beautiful.
"Not to toot my own horn," she says, a few minutes later, "...but I think I turned you into a bit of a god."
"Can I see?"
"Not yet, keep your eyes closed, I want to do something with your hair too."
"I-I really don't think I can afford-"
"No worries about that! Money isn't an issue." He feels her fingers comb through his hair carefully. "And anyway, money isn't the only way you can pay for something."
"I could help around... carry boxes or..."
"Wen-gongzi. That's not what I meant."
"Oh. Oh... But the makeup..."
She hands him the mirror as he opens his eyes, admiring the shine around his eyes, and the beautiful hairpiece atop his head.
"I use very high quality products, Wen-gongzi." the makeup artist smiles. "Nothing will run, no matter how strenuous the activity."
"Mm... Let's test it out?"
"Let me close up shop."
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pls pls pretty pls with sugar on top write a fic where prof reader and snape are childhood friends and accidently gets drunk asf before heading to the great hall for dinner and the students are suprised bcs theyve never seen professors act this way?? plus points if they kiss before entering the great hall(with like one of them pushed against the door and the door opens and everyones like.. 👀) and the next day they both have headaches and the students are teasing them sm?? ThANK youuuu
A Potion Mishap
Genre: Fluff
Pairing: Snape x Professor Reader
Warnings: drunken behavior
Word Count: 2,269
Masterlist
“Sev! I’ve told you repeatedly that I detest being your guinea pig for your new potions! Remember that time in the third year when I had to walk around with blue and green hair for a week until the potion wore off!” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest and tapping your foot impatiently.
“That was one time, (Y/N)! I think you can admit that I am much more skilled in my creations now than I was during our school years,” he states, his deep brown eyes pleading his innocence as he gives the liquid in his cauldron a few stirs.
“It was more than one time! Every other week I was walking around with some sort of ailment caused by your ambitious desire to create something new,” you chuckle, reliving the memories in your mind. “Do you remember when Professor Dumbledore caught us in an empty classroom after hours? You were hunched over your cauldron, books opened all over the desk, as you tried to convince me to test yet another one of your potions. Dumbledore wasn’t too happy when he walked in and you were trying to force feed me a vial of god knows what!”
You both fall into a fit of laughter as you reminisce about your days as students at Hogwarts, clutching your sides as the pain from all the laughter sets in, tears stream from your eyes and you both wipe them away with the backs of your hands.
“In all seriousness,” Snape says, raising an eyebrow at you in return, “I would really appreciate it if you would please -- volunteer as my test subject.”
“What’s in it for me?” you ask, widening your eyes and taking a few steps closer to him.
“I suppose, I will owe you a… favor,” he drawls in a low voice, pausing for a moment before adding, “As long as that favor is reasonable, of course.”
Without a second thought, “Deal!” you shout. It could come in handy knowing you can call upon Snape for a reasonable favor. Though you know your definitions of what is reasonable vary you are sure you can talk him into completing any sort of task for you.
“Excellent,” Snape says as he dips the ladle into the cauldron and pulls up a small bit of the orange, red, and yellow color-shifting shimmering liquid and places it into a vial that he holds out to you.
Taking the vial and holding it up to your lips you pause before downing it, “Just what is this potion supposed to do, exactly?” you question.
Smiling Snape goes on a long rant about the potion ingredients and how he brewed it in specific and excruciatingly painful details. You do your best to listen but get lost in all the technical language so you smile, nod along, and try to ask easy questions where you can; potions were never your best subject. Finally, Snape gets around to telling you what the potion is supposed to do.
“Anyways,” Snape says, his hands moving along with his words as he talks, displaying how proud he is of his work, “this potion is designed to give you an energy boost that is equal to that of a glass of coffee in just a small dose! If done correctly it will be perfect for people, who like me, dread waking up in the morning because they have insomnia and don’t sleep much! It also should reduce the appearance of under-eye bags!”
Smiling with enthusiasm you tell Snape how proud of him you are and how great it is to see him so excited about something as you give his shoulder a squeeze. Snape simply blushes and nervously attempts to apologize for his rambling, which you quickly shoot down saying you rather enjoyed hearing him speak about his potion and there is no need to apologize.
Placing the vial to your lips you swallow a sip of its contents. Though it is only a few drops, it burns going down causing you to cough a bit. Its effects take place immediately and you feel amazing.
“Snapey, you gotta try ‘tis,” you say, your words slurring together a bit.
“Shit- I must have done something wrong,” Snape mutters, his fingers grasping his chin as he stares into the cauldron. “How do you feel, (Y/N)?” he asks as he glances back up at you with concern showing on his face.
“I feel ahmazing, ‘tis stuff werks. Heer -ave sum too,” you mummer placing your hands on Snape’s face as you try to pry his mouth open to get him to swallow the potion.
“Have you lost your mind, (Y/N)?” he jeers, barely holding you back.
The potion gives you a sudden strength increase from adrenaline and you easily overpower him. Forcing his lips open and pouring the liquid into his mouth. He tries to spit it out but you hold your hand over his mouth so that he has no choice but to swallow it, coughing as it goes down. His eyes glaze over as the potion takes its hold almost immediately.
The two of you burst out into another fit of laughter as you both lean into each other in a sloppy embrace and fall down to the floor where you lay for a while, still giggling. Your bodies are intertwined as you both look out of the window and watch the clouds float by for what feels like an eternity. When suddenly, you both turn your heads and look at each other.
A warm flush of pink is settled across both of your cheeks and both of your eyes are dilated; his deep brown ones staring right into (your eye color) ones. His hand caresses your cheek gently and you close your eyes at the nice and warm sensation that brings you. Feeling a hot breath on your face you open your eyes to see Snape’s face centimeters from yours, the tips of your noses brushing against each other.
“Mhmm, Sevy,” you breathe just as his lips come crashing down onto yours sloppily. His body rolls over on top of yours as he pulls back from the kiss, his head tilted quizzingly as he looks at you.
“I’m hungry, are you?”
“Starving!” you exclaim, playfully pushing him off of you as you both stand up.
Hand-in-hand you set off for the Great Hall, however, the world is spinning a bit around you causing both of you to walk at a bit of a stumble and lean on each other for support.
Turning around to tease Snape, you trip over your own feet, and catch yourself on the door of the Great Hall, your back pressing into the wood, unbeknownst to you, the door shifts open a bit under the weight of your body. Snape chuckles as he approaches you and places his hands beside your head, holding you there as he leans down to kiss you, the combined weight of your bodies causes the door to swing open resulting in you and Snape falling down to the ground in the Great Hall, mid-kiss, in front of the whole school as all the students whip their heads around to see who is entering dinner late, their mouths opened wide in shock at the sight.
Snape lays on top of you on the ground for a few moments before you both realize what has occurred and clumsily get back on your feet. Hushed whispering picks up around the room as you and Snape make your way to the Professor's table.
“It is so marvelous to see Professor (Y/N) and Professor Snape for dinner tonight however, it seems as if you are both a little out of character. What say you to a trip to Madam Pomphrey’s with your own private feast while you recuperate?” says Dumbledore, desparate to get you both out of the Great Hall as soon as possible.
Snape looks at you and you both give a quick nod of agreement at the idea and are quickly escorted out of the Great Hall by Dumbledore himself to Madam Pomphrey’s hospital wing where you are given various potions to counteract the effects of Snape’s creation. Sitting cross-legged on one of the beds together, you both refused to be split up despite Madam Pomphrey’s demands, you share your feast together before the potions take their hold and you both pass out.
Stirring from your slumber the next morning you wake up to a pounding headache, causing you to wince. For a moment you are confused as to why you are in the hospital wing sharing a bed with Snape, who is still sleeping, but then you remember the events that took place yesterday. Lightly prodding him, Snape’s eyes dart all around the room as he wakes up. As his eyes find you, he lets out a deep sigh and snuggles closer to you.
“Do we have to get up? That was such an embarrassing day yesterday. First, my potion was a complete failure and then we had to go and kiss in front of the whole school!” Snape whispers, his fingers lightly tracing over your body sending shivers down your spine.
“It wasn’t a complete failure, Sev. If anything you’ve discovered a quick and efficient way to get drunk. I’m sure you could easily market such an item if that’s something you are interested in,” you smile, running a hand through his messy hair.
After a few more moments of bliss, Snape kisses your forehead and rolls out of the bed, extending his hand to help you get up too. You bid your farewells for the time being and both go to your separate chambers to shower and get changed.
Head pounding and heart racing from the previous night's events, you enter your classroom finding yourself unable to meet the eyes of your students. You take attendance and assign them a chapter to read and an assignment to go along with it and then you place your head down on your desk, your headache unbearable.
“Professor (Y/N), how’s that headache today?” a student teases.
You ignore them and threaten to take house points if anyone else says anything else not pertaining to your class.
Another student raises their hand and you call on them. “Professor, what did you drink last night? I want to get my hands on some of that!” they taunt.
Screaming at them about their stupid remarks today you take fifteen points from the student's house and tell them that if anyone else speaks in your class today they will get detention for a month. That seems to do the trick as the students are silent for the rest of the class. Massaging your forehead in an effort to soothe the pain, you can’t help but wonder if Snape is having a similar morning and it just so happens that he is.
Snape saunters into his first class of the day precisely on time as usual but with a look of judgment upon his face that is worse than the norm. With a flick of his wand, his instructions for the day appear on the board.
“You will not utter a word, you will not make useless noise, and you will bottle up a sample of your potion, place it on my desk, and leave my sight once you are done today. Do. You. Understand?” he snarls.
For over half of the class his students seem to have understood his instructions, allowing him to chug a headache potion which doesn’t really do much to alieve his pain. Sighing he decided to cross his arms and rest his head on them for a while.
“Professor, I have a question,” a brave student asks.
Snape’s head snaps off his desk, his eyes ablaze with anger. “What is it? Why are you disobeying my orders?” he growls.
“We are all just wondering… Have you ever used an ice pack for a headache? You should try it. It's a mind-numbing experience!”
The class erupts into a fit of giggles and Snape narrows his eyes at the student. “Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Mr. Greene. Anyone else who speaks a single word, or even breathes too heavily, will lose fifty points for their house and receive three months of detention!”
As the end of the day comes to a close both your and Snape’s headaches have yet to cease, resulting in Snape brewing up two extra strong doses of headache potion of his own invention.
“Here we are again, Sev! Trying to get me to try another one of your potions!” you say rolling your eyes.
“(Y/N), I am so sorry about yesterday. I had no idea of the side effects, I thought it would work but this potion I know will work perfectly. Just trust me once more, please.”
“Fine,” you say letting out a sigh as you take the potion from him.
“Together on the count of three then,” Snape says, “One. Two. Three.”
The potion feels like warm hot chocolate running down your throat and a soothing feeling takes over immediately. As the throbbing pain from your headaches fades to nothingness a smile forms on your lips and Snape smiles warmly back at you.
“I told you it would work,” he teases, poking you in your side as you try to move away from him both of you laughing.
“Please, don’t ever make me test another one of your potions again,” you giggle.
“Oh, we both know I will,” he says with a smile as he wraps you in a warm embrace and gives you a gentle kiss on the forehead.
#thanks for sending!#i really enjoyed writing this one!#i think it turned out great!#severus snape#snape x reader#snape x professor reader#severus snape fluff#snape fluff#ensnapemysenses#pro snape#snapedom#snape community#snape fic#severus snape fic
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Because it feels relevant for today being both July 28th and Fuck You and Fuck Your Train Friday, an excerpt from one of my TMA/Chzo Mythos fics, The Thread of the Idol:
Jonathan Sims groans and rubs his temples, shutting his eyes to the Book of the Bridge. He’s never cared for the Books of CHZO, both for the horrible events they predict and Jack Frehorn’s writing choices. But preferred reading material or not, they hold vital information regarding CHZO and the entities tied to him, and Jon needs information.
In the nearly 20 years since Trilby learned his place in their holy books, he has been studying anything he can find on the prophecies written by CHZO’s followers, desperately looking for any way to stop their plans. But sometimes those choices play right into a prophecy, that they can happen specifically because the person in it is trying to avoid it.
(Jon’s made a nice little side career writing songs about the very topic, though even he has his limits when it comes to writing songs about work. The idea of a concept album featuring Yog Sogoth hits a little too close for comfort. He’s pretty sure CHZO is the only one actually out there. But he also gets the feeling that, in this situation, calling the wrong number still might result in something picking up the phone.)
#I really enjoyed writing this one!#it was nice to dive into some of the stuff with 7 Days a Skeptic and 6 Days a Sacrifice#and also I got to write in Sasha working in Artefact Storage!#sorry to this crossover universe not getting The Bifrost Incident
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je t'aime
♥ pairing: charles leclerc x fem!singer!reader
♥ smau
♥ fluff
♥ notes: here's some more smau while I work on the last part of the folklore series lol (none of the pictures are mine, all were found on pinterest)
♥ masterlist
liked by oliviarodrigo, taylorswift, jackantonoff and 658,892 more
I feel incredibly honored to be featured on the tortured poets department. thank you @ taylorswift <3
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taylorswift <3
*liked by original poster*
user6 A FEATURE???
user7 ~you look like Taylor Swift~
jackantonoff come sing with bleachers now
yourusername JUST SAY WHEN
user5 💗
user8 Y/N AND TAYLOR COLLAB THIS IS NOT A DRILL
user1 now we just need her and liv
user8 and gracie
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
liked by charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, and 349,673 more
@ charlesleclerc wanna write a piano piece for my next album?
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charlesleclerc lets make it happen
oliviarodrigo goals
user12 how does he have time to write songs, own an ice cream business, AND be a professional athlete?
user8 ?!?!?!?
user7 taylor and now CHARLES??
user14 I'd literally pay to see this
user9 this is straight out of a fanfic
user2 right??!!
user1 unrelated but you're stunning
user3 THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT-
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liked by charlesleclerc, tatemcrae, gracieabrams and 1,340,875 more
sixteen days is out now! special thank you to @ jackantonoff my amazing producer and @ charlesleclerc for writing je t'aime with me
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tatemcrae ITS SO GOOD
yourusername THANK YOU TATE ILY
charlesleclerc how about a full album next? 😉
yourusername 👀
user6 THE WINK-
user12 oh they're so in love
user9 don't tease us
user8 when are we going to talk about the lyrics in je t'aime???
user7 sixteen days... isn't charles' number 16?
user2 they're leaving crumbs
user4 I'm going full inspector gadget, national treasure, sherlock holmes right now
user3 this album is amazing
user18 JE T'AIME IS SO GOOD
user17 traffic and we couldn't stop are my favorite
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
time skip - one year later
liked by yourusername, arthurleclerc, and 506,723 more
happy one year mon cheri ❤️
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yourusername I love you <3
charlesleclerc je t'aime
user6 WAIT ONE YEAR?
user4 wait that means they've been dating since their first song together
user7 they've been dating this whole time???
user8 they're so cute
arthurleclerc does this mean I get free tickets to your concert
yourusername no
arthurleclerc I'm literally the one who got you two together
yourusername my extra ticket goes to leo
arthurleclerc fair enough.
#I really enjoyed writing this#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 smau#formula 1 x reader#f1 x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc fluff#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula one fanfic#formula one fic#charles leclerc#cl16#cl16 x reader#cl16 x you#reader fic#x reader#fem reader#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au#fake tweets
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[WVW Exchange Event 2023!]
"The kisses on your lash, your ears, on the nose that keeps scrunching. The kisses on your hand, on your cheeks, and the exchanging soft words waiting for the break of day."
----- ID under break -----
A total of 6 pages of comics, starting with a close up shots of vash kissing sleeping wolfwood's nose, eyes, lashes, and he furrows them a bit. an overhead shot of the two of them in a motel room, on the bed with vash leaning over wolfwood from the left, laying soft kisses on him. their legs tangled. their normal outfits are thrown haphazardly on the floor, instead donning comfortable clothes. on the outside, the very first ray of lights are yet to shine.
"what a face you're making pfft" - vash says as he grabs both of wolfwood's cheeks, squeezing them a bit. wolfwood mumbles, "There's something that keeps landing on my face, it tickles." he grabs the hand that is on his right cheek. "Well you're letting it happens anyways right?" Vash muses, bringing the hand up to kiss on its knuckles. "Good morning Wolfwood. It's almost dawn"
"… Isn't it way too soon?" - wolfwood asks, but keeps to himself the prayers he's sending to god because the the boy on top of him was such a sight to behold. Vash flops down onto him, leaving the hand hanging and lace his own hand into Wolfwood's hair, peppering kisses to the side of his face. "Yep" - he answers - "But you woke up on your own tho" - facetiously. He giggles, saying that it was a joke after a beat of silence. A sigh, "don't make me upside you first thing in the morning." Wolfwood closes his eyes, hand combing through golden strands. "Heh, how merciful~" "We have a meet up with Milly and Meryl today, remember?" Vash reminds him, which does raise some vague memory. wolfwood hums, the other hand reaching around vash's torso, hugging him. " So, the sooner we arrive, the less likely she'll chew through my head." - Vash adds. "riiiight. And you were SO urgent in waking me up." in wolfwood's hold, both of them slowly turn to the right, towards the edge of the bed.
Well, you were just soooo cute, I couldn't help it! didn't thinkk you'll actually wakE UAA-!"
the bed creaks under the sudden shift in weight as wolfwood tosses vash over and under him, arms firmly hugging him, one at his back and one at his head, hungrily dives down to kiss. "!! Wolf-! Wait-!" Vash yelps, leg instinctively curls around the other's man hip to hang on, trying his damnest to grip on his shirt as HE is now half airborne, barely has any contact with the bed on his upper body. However, wolfwood seems to have another idea as he keeps deepening the kiss, pointedly holding Vash close, hands spread guarding the back of his head as both of them are sliding off the soft fabric.
"THUD!" a resounding fall, possibly enough to wake the room downstairs, followed shortly by laboured breaths amist wet smacks of lips. Heaves and huffs of air exchanging between the two bodies when the need to breath made itself necessary. They press close, cradling each other, and are lost to their own world.
After a while they had to part. Metal arm shifts through black locks, caressing down to his nape and they hold eye contacts there, with lidded eyes, strands of saliva thins then breaks.
Wolfwood pushes up on his arms, looking smugly down at his now disheveled partner: "Now this is how it's done, Needlenoggin." he remarks. Vash tries to wrangle his thoughts back in order, but strings of Wolfwood's name and a wonderous question keeps filling his mind, of whether he should risk it all and have fun for a bit more. Regardless, snapping out of his trance, Vash sourly asks, with a wry smile and an aching head: "But did you really need to roll off the bed?"
"Wrong side, whoops" - Wolfwood anwers unseriously, laughing as he finds the situation quite amusing.
----- End of ID -----
#sorry if the ID is weird it happens everytime i tried to ID my comics it turned into psuedo-fics-#the cap is the prompt btw#the exchange is basically secret santa except it was in may lol#it was incredibly fun to work on this!!#and originally i drafted this to be like 4 pages and it got longer and l o n g e r and i was like oh no#all is good i made the deadline dont worry#yeah only some ten minutes left before it was overdue lol#oh and the event was last month i just procrastinated and didnt post it on anywhere except fb mb#half the reason was because i do NOT know how to ID and half way through it was feeling like writing a fic and that took. time#didn't help that i started writing when i was very sleepy and basically forgot about it for weeks#wElL aNyWAys#hope you enjoy this <3#i really really love the prompts that i was given there were 3 in total but i only did one#they were all superb#vashwood#woodvash#wvw#vwv#wv#vw#trimax#trigun#trigun maximum#trigun manga#vash the stampede#vash trimax#wolfwood#nicholas d wolfwood#wolfwood trimax#wvw exchange event 2023
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There's a beat of silence where they just stare at each other. Eddie's face wavers for a second before he snorts, running his hand down his face. "What are we even doing here, man?"
Steve falters, the inanity of the situation hitting him. "I, uh, I think we're about to actually fistfight over-- over who a bunch of 14-year-olds think is cooler."
Eddie considers that briefly, tapping his fingers against his mouth before nodding. "Yeah, okay, I've heard of worst causes. Dukes up, Harrington, let's go!" Eddie pushes up his sleeves and waves his fists in the air cartoonishly as he starts to circle Steve.
Steve laughs, following Eddie as he goes like a compass drawn north. "Oh yeah, man? To the death, right?"
"Of course. Is there any other kind of fight?" Eddie says, overly serious, and abruptly tackles Steve.
They wrestle for a moment, and it's playful and stupid, but it still takes Steve an embarrassingly short amount of time to get Eddie in a headlock.
"This is just sad, man," Steve teases as Eddie struggles. "Those guns just for show, then?"
"Oh shit oh shit not the hair please, please have mercy O King Steve," Eddie laughs breathlessly.
Steve considers it-- Eddie seems to take as much care in his hair as Steve does, and real respects real-- and in that moment of hesitation, Eddie hooks his leg around Steve's and pulls.
Steve yelps as Eddie cackles, dragging them both down into the grass.
He hits the ground with a choked gasp, breath knocked out of him, and he squints up at the sky, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a grin.
He turns his head to say something to Eddie but loses his breath a second time for a very different reason.
Eddie's still giggling to himself in little fits, winding down, and there's a lightness to him at this moment that Steve's never seen, only heard described by the kids pre-Vecna. Laughter suits Eddie Munson, much better than terror or guilt or seriousness, and Steve's suddenly aware that he would do anything in this moment to keep that surprised look of happiness on his face a second longer.
Eddie catches his eyes and turns his head toward him. He's got grass stuck in his hair, and Steve doesn't think before he reaches over.
It's soft. Softer than he was expecting. He's careful not to catch any of Eddie's hair as he pulls out the grass and ends up lingering longer than he means to, setting a curl back to rights before realizing that this is, like, maybe a little weird.
He jerks back, and the back of his hand brushes Eddie's cheek, which is-- which is--
Warm. Soft, too, but with the rough start to stubble, and the feeling of it lingers against his hand like a brand.
Eddie's eyes, dark and impossibly wide, watch him, quiet for once. He wets his lips before speaking, and Steve's eyes catch on that, too, before darting back up to Eddie's. Which, god, what even was that? Why-- why is he--?
"A draw, then," Eddie says, turning over onto his stomach and kicking up his feet, and the weird atmosphere vanishes like it never was. "You are a worthier opponent than I realized, Steve Harrington."
"Oh yeah?" Steve says, relieved and disappointed. "Well, you're not so bad yourself."
Eddie clicks his tongue and fans himself. "You're too kind."
Steve looks away, tracking the clouds passing overhead. "No, really. I know I haven't exactly been, y'know, the world's best welcoming committee-"
"Was pretty convinced you hated my guts, yup." Eddie agrees, nodding.
"I don't. I never did. You're just--" Steve wracks his brain, trying to fit a word to the squirming feeling in his chest that Eddie inspires. "You're really good, y'know?"
"I... don't know, actually." Eddie's voice goes flat, and when Steve turns back to look at him, he's looking at Steve like he's a live snake, or something else dangerous and close to his vulnerable bits.
"You're good with the kids. Good for the kids, too. God, Will's really opened up since he joined your dumb nerdfest. You're good with and to the girls, too, and Jonathan, and Argyle, and probably anyone else that crosses your path. You are, patently, a good dude."
Eddie's mouth opens and closes, but Steve barrels on, feeling electric and more than a little crazy. "And, and it's just-- I don't know, I just--"
"Harrington, if you're about to tell me you think I'm a better man than you, I will lose it," Eddie interrupts regardless, voice high and reedy. "I know you're being, like, genuine and honest right now, but I will laugh in your goddamn face-"
"No, it's not that."
"Okay, I know this directly contradicts what I just said, but the speed with which you said that... Ouch."
"No," Steve shakes his head, frustrated. "I didn't mean it like that. It's-- it's not a competition."
Eddie's eyebrows leap up. "It's not? I invite you to remember what we've spent the last few weeks on."
"That was just an excuse," He snaps his mouth closed the second the words leave his mouth.
"Excuse?" Eddie repeats slowly.
"I just. I don't know, man. Maybe," he swallows. "Maybe I just couldn't handle the thought of you being good to me."
"... Why not?" Eddie asks, eyes focused on him, open, not judging, and god, this is exactly what Steve was worried about.
Eddie looks at him, and Steve--
Kisses him. Can't really do anything else but kiss him.
And when Eddie, after the longest moment of Steve's life, starts kissing him back? It's like the answer to a question he hadn't realized he'd been asking.
Turns out it's not the kids' attention he'd wanted-- or not just the kids' attention, anyway.
When Eddie pulls back, lips red and wet, eyes dark and focused just on him, Steve knows he's finally won it.
#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#been sitting on this one for a bit and have finally come to terms with the fact im probably not going to write the rest of it so... here!#i really like this little scene#in my heart it's at the end of a 5+1 fic where steve and eddie do a bunch of very dumb competitions to prove who's cooler to the kids#... enjoy lmao!#writing outputs
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pairing: hoshina soushirou x gn!reader (no prns)
summary: two secret admirers except he is actually insanely down bad for you its crazy
warnings: mentions the readers face 'flushing', it's kind of from hoshinas pov it's mostly his thoughts and voices, I cannot tell if hoshinas ooc but he's rather quiet with a whole ton of thoughts so idk if that's not it for you pls beware
Unlike one would expect, he was rather one to just sit back and admire. This is not to say he'd let a random guy just snatch you away, but he often couldn't do much more than just admire. It even surprised himself whenever he caught himself watching from afar again, but it really did make sense. He was one of hard work that no one would see, for as long as he could remember. Attention was not something he was used to, nor was it something he craved intensely. So what you had going on was fine for him, he was the happiest he's been just working with you every day.
However, sometimes at night, he'd wonder what it would be like if the one he loved, loved him back. What if he could make you smile and get you flustered? He wanted to know, but he convinced himself he didn't need to, nor could he.
Yet, one day those humble thoughts did a complete 180. He couldn't help it anymore, you had to be his.
It was no special day, at least not until you came along at least. It wasn't that big of a deal— it really wasn't, but the way your face flushed when his hand accidentally grazed your cheek would never be forgotten.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," he had said, immediately. He spun you around and touched the place he grazed, asking if you were okay.
"I'm, I'm perfectly fine, thank you," you said avoiding eye contact. You didn't mean to be rude but you knew your face was bright red and you couldn't dare see his expression.
But you should've. You absolutely should've. His heart clenched at the sight and his eyes widened, he was undeniably in love with you, anyone could tell. He didn’t know if he had any effect on you, or if you were just not used to people touching your cheek, but he couldn’t care less at the moment. He would be damned to let anyone see that look on your face, let alone cause it, so there was no choice but to make you his. He wanted you so badly, but he just didn't know how.
Now all through the day, he found himself thinking about you— he didn't think it could possibly get worse. He noticed everything you did more than ever. He noticed how your horrible sleep schedule was finally a little better, he noticed how you noticed everyone's new achievements and always remembered to compliment them, he noticed how you'd still sneak out in the middle of the night to train when you just couldn't fall asleep. He knew all these things, and yet he didn't know what to do.
A few weeks had passed and he was training late into the night again, but his thoughts were filled with you. It was getting late and he was finally going to call it a night, and that was when he finally noticed you by the door. When your eyes first met, he truly thought he was hallucinating— thought that the fatigue and the constant thought of you had made him go insane. Until you spoke, that was.
“I apologize,” you said in a hurry, your eyes shooting around until they slowly met his again. “I didn’t mean to stare.”
‘Didn’t mean to stare’? ‘Stare’? How long had you been there for? You were waiting for him to say something, but that was not even on his mind at the moment. As smart as he was, there were constantly thoughts flooding his head and all he had were questions. Why were you here? Why did you stay? Why were you still up? Were you having a hard time sleeping? Did he wake you up? Was he making a lot of noise? No, your room should be far enough away from the training room. Then why were you all the way here? Did you want to train too? Was he in the way? Were you—
“I’ll um, leave you to your training,” you said quickly, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “Sorry to bother you.”
You were turning away to leave when he reached out for your wrist. His mind was still blank but naturally the question he wanted answers to the most slipped right out of his mouth.
“Why…” he asked softly, eyes wide with surprise. “Why… were you here?”
You were just as surprised and you also didn’t know how to respond. “I couldn’t sleep, unfortunately,” you said slowly. It wasn’t a lie, you really were struggling to sleep— however you did turn the corner in the hall to see if the lights in the training room were on, and you did hope he was the one still up late. Yet, to your surprise his expression relaxed and he almost looked disappointed as he carefully released the grip on your wrist.
“But you need to get some rest as well,” you said, wanting to say something, anything, to keep you in this moment.
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. He was getting no rest tonight, he knew he was going to be up late just thinking about you or thinking about how he’s mildly heartbroken. He was tired of being stuck in his thoughts though and, maybe from the fatigue, it slipped out of him. “I wish you were here to see me.”
He only realized what he had said after he heard himself say it. Immediately the thoughts were back. Oh but it was quiet… perhaps you hadn’t heard it? Not a chance. What does he say next? Does he play it off? That would be such a scummy move. Oh, why would he do that? He had gotten so far keeping his feelings to no one other than himself, keeping quiet, admiring from afar, why now?
“I was!” you said, immediately. “I was here to see you!”
What did you say?
“I was hoping you were the one still training. I was hoping I’d see you tonight,” you said clearly.
He was about to embrace you when he caught himself right before he threw his arms around you. His hands were placed on your shoulders and his face was so close to yours. “Sorry, I’m literally drenched in sweat,” he said. “That would’ve been disgusting.”
“I don’t mind, I can always shower again,” you said, more eager for the hug than anything else.
“No, you need to sleep, it’s late,” he said, but he had to admit that pulled at his heart.
“Okay, then this will have to suffice,” you said and kissed him quickly.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Not to be dramatic, but this was the moment he had been dreaming of for so long now.
His head was hanging, avoiding any eye contact— he didn’t want you to see his face flushed.
“I am so insanely in love with you.”
#hoshina x reader#hoshina soshiro x reader#soshiro x reader#hoshina soshiro#hoshina#kaiju no. 8 x reader#kaiju no 8 x reader#kn8 x reader#hoshina soushirou#kaiju no.8 x reader#HERE WE GOOOOOO#WE ARE SO BACK#see this hoshina is not the same hoshina in my silly text thing this hoshina does not say dick#and i cannot decide which one i love more#so for now i do both#thats a lie i know i love this one more deep down but the other one is so funny like i can hear it coming from him and itd be funny#ANYWAYS NOT THE POINT !#thank u sm for reading omg this was so fun to write#man i love when men are down bad#esp successful men#and this was about writing a successful man down bad i couldnt have more fun#hope to write for him more HOPE TO ALSO WRITE FOR RENO#really hope he gains popularity with the anime truly such a wonderful character#I HOPE U ENJOYED !!!#ALSO I APOLOGIZE NOT PROOFREAD i will proofread as i go...
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hehe..... chapter 14
#artists on tumblr#tekken#jin kazama#kazuya mishima#one last miracle#olm au#fanart#sketch#colored#hHKJSDFhkjnjnnf........#can u tell i really enjoyed writing this one
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"...You had to be able to show too much of yourself. You had to be just a little bit more honest than you were comfortable with. And if people judged you, if they felt they knew who you were, that was just something that you were going to have to live with. And what was strange is, once I started doing that, and I was expecting to be judged, or shunned, or people’s opinions or to have to deal with things, what I discovered was, actually, their opinions were, we really like this. We love this story. That’s a good story. It felt huge. It felt personal. And I realized that’s because I was being honest about me.“ —Neil Gaiman
#It was such a lovely speech. I really enjoyed hearing it and I wished to have it here as well. You can youtube it. His name and Masterclass.#Neil Gaiman#The Sandman#How many of you squinted and saw Dream.#Neil Gaiman Masterclass#Dream of the Endless#You know what I WILL tag it because and I will explain#You can really see the parts of himself that Neil put into Dream#This interview more than any truly shows you some of that#Dream is essentially a creator of stories too— One who is not good at being honest with himself— One who too has a facility of voices.#Frankly— How old were you when you saw Neil's little 'self insert' OC and went 'Ah yes. Here he is.'#Also the fact that Neil always wears black and has a messy hair.#Love it.#Quote Edit#Writing Advice#Writing Fiction#buns.edits#buns.all
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here are some angsty g/t prompts to feed the brainworms
(come get y'alls juice.)
recently shrunken/borrower friend who has had to lower all defenses around someone so utterly terrifying to be around simply because of how much them there is. learning how to develop a relationship with someone capable of any amount of destruction with minimal effort. the truth that, for some things, they are completely dependant on the giant. over the course of days/weeks/months fragile trust is slowly cultivated as they both learn how to adjust to each other's presence, only for it to be shattered in a moment due to a giant's carelessness. a voice raised too loud, a hand slammed a little too close, a grab just too tight. and ultimately, no amount of guilt or remorse will fix the damage done.
the utter helplessness of size shifting. like, i know size shifting is a popular concept for g/t scenarios, but if you think about it- it's legitimately body horror. consider it, a signifigant aspect of your physical body robbed from you over the course of a few moments. the rushing feeling of anxiety crashed with the abject panic knowing that the world around you is going to transform, that you are going to change. overwhelming vertigo as the ceiling begins to stretch above you, as your surroundings change from a neutral space to an immense and overwhelming enclosure. even the most banal and mundane items are now obtacles, if not actively dangerous. shifting somewhere you can't leave, shifting somewhere you shouldn't leave. shifting somewhere where you can't reach someone you trust.
tinies discovered by someone curious and stolen away from their trusted giants in a moment. the tiny has to endure this new giant that is over ten times their size and unconcerned with their wellbeing like their friend/partner, while the giant spirals into panic searching for their vulnerable friend/partner who trusted them- blaming themselves all the way.
tinies stuck in thunderstorms. the sky roars with claps of deafening thunder as they scramble to find cover against the frigid, heavy raindrops that pound against them. their vision is nonexistant as they stumble through the soft earth, unsure of where they are running towards but just hoping its somewhere away.
the prompts below are a little more intense/whumpy fyi!!
borrowers caught in traps intended for pests. maybe they were being careless or overconfident - maybe they just weren't paying attention... until the metal bar of a mousetrap snaps over their ankle or they find themselves stuck in a glue trap, pinned in place and in the open. they can't cry out in pain in fear of being discovered, while also knowing it's inevitable. injured and growing more panicked by the minute, they hear the resounding sounds of a giant approaching them.
tinies locked in things. bird cages, jars, drawers, lockboxes- take your pick. bonus points if it's claustrophobic. bonus bonus points if its pitch black. bonus bonus bonus points if the tiny has no idea how long till they get out and can breathe again.
g/t fearplay lightning round: giants that love to see how little they need to do in order to panic a tiny, tinies being tossed around like keys, rubber bands used as restraints, shock collars, tinies held out over tall heights, the works
it's ok though because in all of these scenarios they end up being taken care of by a gentle and caring giant because i'll be damned if this hurt isn't eventually going to have comfort.
#g/t#g/t community#giant/tiny#g/t prompts#g/t writing#g/t angst#g/t scenario#g/t fearplay#borrowers#sprout speaks#can you TELL what the brainworms enjoy#really exposing myself with this one#(i know what you are.)
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what if the 141 boys had a ridiculously tall husband. like. a little bit taller than konig, probably. and he's really scary to people, actually!!!! but not his s/o , nuh uh, he's disgustingly sweet to his beloved.. sorry i'm rambling, i think (jokes and idiocy aside i adore your headcanons <3)
Hey there! Thank you, that's very kind of you! Also thank you for sending in a request for a male reader, you're one of the first ones and I was very excited to write about a male reader for once :D
TF141 With A Very Tall Husband
Price: He didn’t really think he’d ever be dating someone much, much taller than him. Sure, he doesn’t particularly mind, but he’s not short either, with him standing at 1,88m himself. It makes him feel small at times, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. He doesn’t get insecure about it in the slightest, oh no, but it’s weird to be so much shorter than your loved ones. However, he’s pretty used to scary people by now. Ghost isn’t exactly a delight to have around at first when you don’t know him either, so he knows how to deal with scary people. Might ask you to tone it down a little bit when you’re scaring other people too much, he doesn’t particularly wanna attract attention like that. But you being a sweetheart towards him? It melts his heart. He knows what you’re like towards people that aren’t him, so it makes him smile that you’re willing to do just about anything for him just to spend some time with him. You wanna trim his beard? There’s a good chance you’ve got some experience with that anyway, so he really doesn’t mind it as much. Hell, he probably trusts you more than his own barber at times. Besides, it’s a nice little bonding activity. If you have a beard then he’ll offer to trim it for you as well. Price isn’t really opposed to being the little spoon, or just being held in general. Quite the opposite, you being this tall sometimes puts him in a cuddly mood where he just plops down into your arms. Gently scratch his scalp and there’s a good chance he’ll even fall asleep on you. He’s so used to being everyone’s protector, it feels nice to be protected for once. But he won’t always settle for being held either, it’s his job to make you feel safe and sound as well, and thus he will take on the role of cuddler as well. Will fight you for that role, actually. Price is a real sweetheart towards his loved ones as well, so I think the two of you would fit well together. His mere presence demands respect in the right people, which can sometimes scare others. So, from time to time, you might both scare other people together. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes unintentionally.
Gaz: He makes so many jokes about you being this tall and feigns being hurt about being much shorter than you are. You’re his behemoth, his leviathan and his ziz. Loves calling you the names of monsters that are said to be pretty big, it’s endearing to him. Besides, you’re scary enough that some people call you a monster anyway, if just for your height. If anyone ever were to call you that in front of Gaz, then they’ll end up with a black eye. No one gets to call you a monster but him. While he won’t always approve of you scaring everyone, Gaz does have a few friends that he wants you to get along with, he won’t particularly do anything about it either if that’s just what you’re like. Might try to make you seem a bit less scary by being a bit more affectionate with you in public. Holding your hand, giving you a peck on the cheek, giving you a hug. Those kinds of things. He actually loves you being this tall since that means you can pick him up and spin him around. He’s not been picked up ever since he was a little boy, so he definitely wouldn’t mind you showing off to him just how strong you are. Is also always looking for an excuse to hold your hand. Oh, seems like he forgot just how big your hand actually is and how much it engulfs his. Remind him for a moment and hold his hand, will you? Gaz is a sweetheart towards his loved ones anyway, if you look past the fact he will sass anyone to show his affection, so he loves that you’re so sweet towards him. Though, sometimes he wishes you were about the same height so you could actually share each other’s wardrobe. But hey, at least he gets to wear your extremely oversized shirts and hoodies, one of his favorite things to do. Another thing he also adores is just sitting in your lap when you’re home together and will also place your hands so that you’re holding him in your arms. If you’ve got really warm hands then he’ll place them atop his thighs to keep himself warm. Gaz isn’t the warmest person out there, but that just means you get to warm him up yourself. Is actually a lot cuddlier because you’re this tall and will become your personal blanket.
Ghost: He feels kind of perplexed about you being so much taller than him. Ghost is 1,95m, he towers over pretty much anyone, so how dare you be so much taller than him. Pretends to hate you being this tall, actually loves it. Sometimes he dreams of sparring with you under the moonlight to assert his dominance, even though there’s really no need to since you’re such a sweetheart towards him. He probably just needs to ask and would get anything from you. He really doesn’t mind you scaring pretty much everyone off, he has the same effect on people he doesn’t know. That just means there’s less people to worry about in his life for the time being. You’ll be spending a lot of time alone with each other that way, which he really likes. Though, maybe don’t scare his teammates too much, he genuinely likes them and wants them to be well too. Though, it’s kind of hard to properly scare them anyway. Ghost is usually a pretty quiet man when there’s no need for chit chat, but he doesn’t mind hearing your voice. In fact, he might get worried if you suddenly stop talking and will ask you what’s wrong. If you’ve got nothing to talk about then he’ll ask some questions so he can continue hearing your voice. He also blushes from time to time when you suddenly give him some sugary sweet compliments. He’s a grown, scary military man, he really shouldn’t be, but it’s just so endearing, especially when you, even bigger and scarier, call him your little honey bunny. It actually motivates him to do house chores. Not that he won’t do them anyway, but you calling him embarrassingly domestic names makes him just a tad bit soft, which leads to him trying to be a good husband. You may cuddle him since he trusts you, but he will also want to hold you from time to time. Life is a constant give and take, so prepare to be cuddled. Won’t particularly ask for cuddles, though, since he’s kind of too embarrassed to admit he’s touch starved. To you it’s blatantly obvious, though, which is why you initiate those cuddling sessions. Ghost appreciates it and sometimes hides a smile in either the pillow or your neck. As long as you don’t see him being silly, all is good.
Soap: He used to hate you being this tall. Soap may “only” be of average height, but he’s the tallest in his family, which he was actually pretty proud of. He towered over his father, even. And then he joined the military, where quite a few people were taller than him. And then you had the audacity to introduce yourself to him. You, the tallest man he’s ever met. It hurt his ego. Ever since you got together, though, he slowly got over it. You’re just such a sweetheart, how could he hate you over something as trivial as this? However, nothing could ever stop him from trying to pick you up and spinning you around. Soap is a pretty strong lad too, he’ll make it work somehow. You will feel tiny and cared for too. There’s a good chance he can’t reach your lips to kiss you. Yes, he could just ask you to bend down, but where’s the fun in that? Climbs you like a tree instead. He’s also always thinking of that one post where, instead of asking their boyfriend, the person should just punch him in the stomach. He won’t do it, but he remembers it every time without fail. He doesn’t mind you being scary either. Hell, Ghost is also a pretty scary guy to have around when you don’t know him and he’s one of Soap’s closest friends. Besides, he knows better anyway. You’re a total goof and the biggest sweetheart this world has ever seen. You being scary towards others just means that he’s got you all to himself all the time. Soap is a clingy guy, so you can expect him to cling to you like a koala from time to time. Actually, that was a lie, you should expect him to jump at you and hold onto you very often. Cuddles over safety. You’re likely also one of the only people on the planet willing to hear him out when he’s talking about his passions. And he could go on for hours every time. Explosives, weapons, whatever show you’re watching together, all is fair game. See, you’re one of the biggest sweethearts to him because you actually listen to him, despite him going into great detail about it all. You may not always be able to understand him when he’s talking chemistry again, but you hear him out anyway, and for that alone you’ve won his heart. He also sits on your lap while talking. You’re his little throne now that he takes immense pride in.
#cod#cod x reader#john price#john price x reader#price x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john soap mactavish#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#I doubt anyone cares but I HC Soap to be 1.78m and Gaz to be 1.81m I just forgot to mention it#m!reader#I know I'm biased but I feel as though I'm actually more willing to write about male readers than fem readers#90% of all things I see in this fandom are with a fem reader there's barely anything for male readers#still thinking back fondly on that one time I got a request for a ftm reader#but that was an eternity ago and I feel as though I'd write that request better now and with more content#I tried to write a lot for this because I was really looking forward to it#besides it was a pretty cute request too. I've actually got a request that's similiar to this one too#it's with Laswell and a reader that's roughly as tall as König#and then I've got something for Nikolai and Price as a couple#I'm gonna write some HCs for that alone and then write some more with added reader as a bonus#I know I never mentioned it anywhere but I do try to be a reader centric blog. but I can write charxchar as well#I just haven't done so since middle school I think#wait no I've written charxchar not too long ago for madcom and tf2. good times#not sure if I'll continue writing today though. I started a new anime and I'm enjoying it a lot so I might watch that instead
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Heavy Weighs the Crown
Had to stop working on everything else and write a whole bunch of this instead. Usually I like to finish things that I think might be on the longer side before I start posting, but we're gonna live on the edge with this one. Expect updates in 1-2 Bearimys.
Chapter One - Sweetpea
Next Chapter >
Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, Large men picking up reader like a football, No Y/N, A spot of magic, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Reader descriptions kept as neutral as possible but keep in mind that she is a character to me and does have a specific appearance so things might slip through. This is just me having a bit of fun with a fantasy setting because it is my favourite type.
~3.4k Words - MDNI
Sunlight streams down through the light scattering of clouds above, as you carry your nearly empty basket into town to buy a few things for your auntie Kate. She’s not truly your aunt, but over the past few years it’s hard to think of her as anything less than family. She’s not warm, exactly, but she’s honest, and you know that you can trust her with anything.
Kate would usually be at your side when you go into town, watching the crowd with hawkish intensity, as though she still expects agents of the new king to materialize and snatch you away, but she’s away on business, and her wife much less paranoid. You expect that anyone who was ever looking for you has given up on you now. After the civil war, there was a time of instability, and you laid awake many nights, half expecting armed men to break into your bedroom and snatch you away, but everything is smoothed over now, and there’s no reason why Price would feel like he needed you to cement his rule.
You’re happy to just let him have the kingdom. You have more freedom as an ordinary girl, and you’re happier now than you ever have been. You were miserable living in your father’s halls, just a spindly little flower growing without enough sun or rain. And your people are happy now too. It twists your stomach something fierce, to think that your father was never a good king, but the reality is that he wasn’t. People starved while he feasted behind his walls. He sent good men to wage war on his behalf, to die in far off lands when they should have been home building better lives for themselves and their families. He allowed his chosen men to terrorize the women and children and old men living in the towns still. Things had been bad.
So yes, let Price have the crown, and the castle, and the responsibility and anything he likes. What difference does it make to you now?
What matters now is the sun on your face, and the gentle sound of birdsong around you, and the dull bite of the occasional stone through the soft leather soles of your shoes. The air smells sweet and green, although there’s a slight prickle at the back of your nose that tells you that there will be rain tonight, or tomorrow morning at the latest. There’s nothing to worry about aside from whether or not the children in town will like the end of the book you have tucked into your basket.
You see a young man sleeping by the side of the road on your way into town, his horse tied to a long halter while he lounges beneath a tree. As you pass by, a bird flying too close startles the horse, and it pulls up the peg it’s tied to, and bolts. The young man doesn’t stir, so you dash after the horse without a thought, dropping your basket so you have both hands free to seize the halter.
You try to dig in your heels to stop the big, white-stockinged horse, but it half-drags you a little ways down the road before finally stopping, swinging it’s head around to look at you as though you’ve personally offended it. “Come on,” you tell it, exasperated. “You don’t belong out here.”
Arms wrap around you from behind, hands much larger than yours close over your wrists. “You’re awfully pretty for a horse thief,” a voice says in your ear.
“I’m not a horse thief!” you protest. “I was trying to help!” The horse snorts, as though it intends to tattle on you for something that you most certainly were not doing.
“And you didn’t think to wake me up?” The man behind you lets go of one of your wrists and spins you around, the movement smooth and graceful, like you’re two dancers at a ball, rather than two strangers meeting along a country road. But when you look up, you find the all too familiar face of one of Price’s knights.
“Sir Garrick!” you gasp.
“Princess,” he says, smiling. He’s far too handsome, his smile bright, teeth a little bit too sharp. “How very nice to see you. I thought for sure you’d have left the kingdom by now.”
“No! Oh no.” You push against his chest uselessly. He’s strong, so much stronger than you. Despair claws at your ribs. Your nightmare-come-true may be wrapped in a pretty, familiar face, but you have no desire to return to the capital. “Please let me go. I promise I don’t want the kingdom. Price can have it— You can have it. I just want to be left alone, I swear, I’ll never—”
“Hush, sweetpea.” He tucks a few of your thin braids behind your ear, fingertips grazing down your neck. “I have to bring you in. But you can make your case to Price. Maybe he’ll let you come back, alright? Don’t fret. He’s always been reasonable.”
You’re not certain how to get out of this. Sir Garrick has kind eyes, but his grip is like steel. He lifts you up easily and sets you on his horse before you so much as think of protesting or making a feeble attempt to fight him off.
“We’re not far from the capital. We can make it there before dark,” he continues, voice low and reassuring, as though you’re worried about the travel, and not the destination.
“But— What about my aunt? I should let her know where I’ve gone.”
“We’ll send word. Don’t you worry, your majesty.”
“No, no, don’t call me that. That’s for kings and queens, and I’m neither.” I’m no one, you want to shout.
He's amused by that, amused by you, as if you're just being a silly little girl. "I suppose we'll settle on sweetpea for now." He holds his palm out and three little white birds materialize and fly off in different directions, spectral and iridescent as soap bubbles. And then he swings into the seat behind you and pulls you most of the way into his lap, wraps strong arms around your waist, and nudges his mount into a walk.
“So,” Sir Garrick says conversationally, his voice low, lips far too close to your ear. It’s overly familiar, but you’re already practically sitting in the man’s lap. “What have you been doing out here all these years?”
“Um. Gardening. Embroidery. Taking care of my chickens. Lessons, for some of the children that live nearby. Just letters and arithmetic. I’ve been thinking about organizing a proper schoolhouse.” You can feel your nerves bubbling up as you babble, thoughts coming to you disorganized and stilted. “I never realized how few people can read. It seems a shame. I do a few hours of reading around town, help out at the church. I keep busy. I haven’t any real purpose, so I have to go out of my way to make one.” You sigh, thinking of how you had left things at a particularly gripping point in a story you’d been reading to the town children. They’ll be disappointed if they never hear the end of it, but you still have hope that Price will decide you’ve become something of a country bumpkin with no place in the court, and let you go back home soon. “How have you fared? Is your family well?”
“Quite well. My sisters will be glad to see you again. They always thought you were sweet. Rosie’s opened her own dress shop in the city, and Camellia has five children now. I think Kylie and Jorah were just two or three last you saw them. My mother lives with Cam to help out.” Sir Garrick’s mother and sister used to work at the palace, and he had been apprenticed to the court wizard before he specialized in battle magic and became a knight. You hadn’t been friends, exactly— You’re not sure you ever really had friends— but he’d always been nice enough, when your paths crossed.
“And what of you?” you prompt gently. “Have you found yourself a wife?”
He laughs lightly. “I’m working on it. I’ve a girl in mind, but I think she’ll take some convincing.”
“Oh I doubt that, Sir. You’re perfectly unobjectionable.”
“High praise indeed, princess.”
The two of you chat idly as you travel, mostly about nothing, but it’s pleasant enough. Sir Garrick— Kyle, he insists you call him— is far more charming than you remember, and he makes you laugh so much that you’re certain that you’d simply fall right off the horse if he wasn’t holding onto you so securely. He’s the very picture of a romantic hero, all chivalry and smiles, handsome in the dappled light under the canopy of trees as the road carries you from farmland to forest. You come to a bridge, and he dismounts so his horse can drink, and lifts you down so you can stretch out stiff muscles. His touch lingers, strong hands resting on your hips for a few beats longer than would be appropriate, but you don’t really mind.
You part from his company so you can relieve yourself a little ways into the trees, glad he’s not concerned about you making a run for it. His assurances that Price can be reasoned into letting you go home once you’ve spoken to him is enough to make you cooperative. You’re certain that he’ll take one look at you now and send you right back home. You’ve never had any luck with the young men in town, and if that’s any indication, you’ll be back to your little bedroom in Kate’s house before the week is up.
You fix your clothes and walk back to the road, humming lightly under your breath. Kyle is speaking to a flat glowing disc that hums with energy, floating above his palm. He gives you a smile and a nod and retreats to the tree line while he finishes his conversation. You catch a glimpse of a face on the disc as he turns, searing blue eyes meeting yours for a moment. Price, certainly. You recognize those eyes.
Kyle’s gaze slips over to you again as you kneel by the creek, one arm keeping your skirt out of the water while you trail the other hand through the water idly, the cool stream a pleasant offset to the heat of the afternoon. If you were alone, you would consider stripping down and going for a swim, but as nice as Kyle is, he’s still a man, and not one you know particularly well anymore, if you ever did.
When you look over again, he’s tucking the crystal disc into the front of his tunic, and a wolf is behind him, stalking out of the woods, low to the ground and ready to pounce. “Kyle!” you shout, pointing behind him. He turns quickly, a spell glittering on his fingertips, but the wolf pounces before he can cast it, both crashing into the packed earth along the side of the road.
You rush over, although halfway there you wonder what help you expect to be, and an arm snatches you around the middle, hauling you back. You’re beginning to get a bit annoyed at how much you’ve been manhandled today, and you start kicking as you’re lifted off your feet. “Let me go!”
“Easy, sweet girl. Let the lads say hello,” a deep voice says behind you, the sound rumbling through you like a cat’s purr. “No danger ‘ere.”
You look at Kyle and the wolf again. Only there isn’t a wolf anymore, just a large, naked man laying on top of Kyle, kissing him ardently and more than a little messily. The sound of it makes your cheeks burn. “Oh.”
The man who was a wolf stands up, and you look away, too flustered by the sight of so much bare skin to do anything else. The big man puts you down and turns you to face him, putting your back to the werewolf. “Johnny, put some clothes on before you say ‘ello. We know you were raised by savages, but you don’t need to act like it,” he says firmly, his heavy hands on your shoulders.
You stare at the skull embroidered on the black tunic in front of you, recognizing the emblem, and then the black fencers mask tied around the man’s face, obscuring even the shape of his features. You see a glint of light when he drops his chin to look at you though, gleaming eyes that look at you inscrutably. You know him, by name and reputation and deep, rumbling voice, if not by his face. No one knows him by his face, but he was as highly ranked a knight as Price was, one of your father’s personal guard before the war. Often tasked as your guardian, a solemn but comforting presence always. “Hello, Ghost,” you say, cheeks burning all the hotter. “Been a while.”
“Not as long as you might think,” he says. You can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Been keepin’ an eye on you.”
“What do you mean?” you ask. “For how long?”
“Knew where you were this whole time. Wun’t about to let you disappear, princess.” He tucks you against his side, keeping an arm around your shoulders protectively. “Johnny. Come meet our girl. Best behaviour.”
Johnny the werewolf grins at you as he walks up, still adjusting the drape of the tartan fabric around his hips, broad chest bare and dusted with hair, swirling blue tattoos printed on his scarred skin. His hair is shaved on the sides, a stripe of it left long in the center. “Nice ta finally meet ya, princess. Officially, anyway. We’ve bumped intae each other once or twice, but I was told no’ ta approach unless ye approached first, aye? Shame ye never did.” His smile is crooked, his too-bright blue eyes intent on yours. “Think we’ll get along.”
“The whole time?” you ask, skipping back a few paces in the conversation, glancing up at Ghost. “But Kyle said—”
“Sorry, sweetpea,” Kyle says airily. “I lied.”
“Typical tricksy wizard shite. But dinnae ye worry none, we’ll keep him honest for ye.” Johnny grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles, and then to the inside of your palm. His rough fingertips push your sleeve back, and he kisses the inside of your wrist too. When you squeak, he gives you a heated look and does it again, teeth grazing sensitive skin as he opens his mouth and licks a stripe across your pulse.
You’re warm from the tips of your ears to your chest, your breath catching on ragged nerves. You tug your hand out of his grip and cradle it with your other, like you’ve been burned by his brash touch.
“Johnny,” Ghost says, exasperated. “S’that what you call best behaviour?”
“She likes it, sir.”
“I most certainly do not!” you protest.
“Oh, aye ye do. Werewolf, ye ken. Can smell ye.” Johnny taps the side of his nose and winks at you. “Ye dinnae need ta be embarrassed, sweetpea. Ye can hardly blame yerself, faced with all this.” He gestures to his admittedly impressive physique, the broad and lean shape of near-perfect manhood on immodest display.
“Let’s move.” Kyle’s hand brushes your elbow. “You can ride with me again.”
Ghost shakes his head and turns, pulling you with him. “No. Come meet Nox.” He whistles, and a huge black shape hurtles down from the sky, glossy black wings snapping open just before the creature hit the ground, flapping a few times so that it lands lightly on four mismatched limbs, stirring up dust leaves. You shrink back against Ghost’s side, eyes wide. A gryphon.
The massive beast has a raven’s head and wings, and shiny black fur on it’s haunches. The catlike tail, with it’s tuft of feathers at the end, twitches back and forth as the bird head tilts to regard you, dark, slit-pupil eyes watching you with interest.
You look up at Ghost for reassurance, and he nods. “Go on. Offer ‘er your ‘and. She won’t bite. Hey, girl?” he scratches the gryphon behind the ear, and it opens it’s mouth to make a vibrating, keening sound that makes Kyle’s horse snort nervously. “That’s right, sweetpea’s a friend.”
You offer your outstretched hand to the giant creature, bolstered by Ghost’s calm, and it sticks it’s beak under your palm, making the same keening sound again. The last of your apprehension melts away, and you step closer, smiling. “Aren’t you a pretty girl?” You scratch the spot where her beak meets her feathers, and her eyes close for a moment.
Johnny reaches for the Nox’s side, and she whips her head around and hisses at him, her throat feathers fluffing up defensively. “Och, yer no’ goan ta git my fingers, ye wee beastie. Thought ye was gettin’ soft.”
“Away, Johnny. Let the girls get to know each other.” Ghost stands behind you and guides your hands to points just behind Nox’s jaw. The gryphon croaks and leans her head on your shoulder, nudging Ghost with her beak.
“Not so scary,” you coo, pressing your face into the soft cloud of feathers. “What a sweet girl.”
“How about it, Nox? Can she ‘op up?” Ghost asks. The gryphon croaks again and backs away enough to lean her front half down. Ghost picks you up and sets you on her back, on a flat saddle that sits right behind the joint of her massive wings, which fold up over your legs like she’s holding you steady. He pats Nox on the neck and starts walking, and she follows, padding beside him, sticking her beak between the joints of his leather armor playfully whenever he takes his hand off her.
You grab the edge of the saddle, mindful of Nox’s feathers, and it takes a moment to adjust to her movement. It’s not the side to side sway of a horse, but she’s steady, like she’s trying her best not to spill an inexperienced rider. Thoughtful of her.
Behind you, Kyle scrambles up onto his horse, and Johnny hustles to catch up, positioning himself on Ghost’s other side, giving Nox a wider berth.
“Thought we weren’t supposed ta tell her we were watchin’,” Johnny said. “Price said—”
“She ought to know. I wun’t too ‘appy about it in the first place, but a deal’s a deal.”
“A deal with who?” you ask.
“I’ll let Price tell you that much, sweetpea. But if it were up to me I’d’ve dragged you back home years ago.”
You shake your head tiredly. “Home is where I was. And I’m going back as soon as this business with Price is done. I don’t know what he wants, but I’m sure we can work something out. Kyle said he’s reasonable.”
“Oh, did ‘e?” Ghost asks, amusement colouring his deep voice. “S’pose that’s ‘ow ‘e had you comin’ along purrin’ like a kitten, hm?”
The blood drains from your face as you turn to look at Kyle, but he doesn’t look guilty, or like he’d been lying to you. “Well, again, I’m perfectly happy to cooperate. There’s no reason why he wouldn’t let me go when he gets what he wants, is there?”
Johnny chuckles, exchanging a look with Ghost that’s inscrutable. “Aye, ye’ve got a point. I’m sure ye’ll have no trouble dealin’ with the old man. Born diplomat, aren’t ye?”
Your stomach twists with nerves. It’s been many years since you’ve seen John Price. You don’t know him as well as you know Ghost. You’d always found the big, faceless man strangely comforting, easy to talk at, if not to, especially when you were still young and silly. But John Price, when he fixed you with those fathomless dark blue eyes, had always rendered you speechless, turned your usually clever tongue to lead. He was a knight captain then, a natural leader of men, a hero. Not someone that your father wanted you to get close to. It’s easy for you to see why now, with your father dead in the ground and Price wearing the crown, but you were glad for any excuse to stay away.
You wish you could ask Nox to fly away with you on her back, maybe home, but maybe somewhere else entirely, where no one knows you, where you can start again without the weight of the crown hanging heavy over your head, an executioner’s ax waiting to fall.
***
Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4
#Fantasy AU#cod mw fanfiction#x reader#x fem Reader#141 x reader#Heavy Weighs the Crown#Cave Writing#This is mostly gonna be fun and light-hearted I just really enjoy fantasy and I've been watching a lot of DnD content lately#“He's always been reasonable” Kyle lies thinking fondly of his boss - the least reasonable man in the realm#Let me know if you need any content warnings in here but I feel this one's pretty light
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when he could almost taste the most expensive french wine but his least favourite anemic turned out not to be dead after all
[ID: An edited "Disappointed man" meme. Instead of the man's face, there's Chuuya looking down with a mix of disappointment and annoyance. End ID]
#there goes their quick trip to paris to celebrate#bsd#bsd memes#bsd spoilers#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#bsd original#posts with ids#I never know how to describe their faces when I write descriptions#they're just so intricate#this sounds like one of asagiri's comments haha#a surprise meme because I'm really enjoying this chapter haha#maybe I'll make more I'll see
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obsessed w this new saga with David and the other teachers.... perhaps them either coming over again for a small party - "it's mostly family!!" Hence being even more confused when even MORE famous people show up (THAT'S brony Erica???)
I’m picturing the same cookout from this post.
There are three new eighth grade teachers this year. Including David, there is Marissa and Jordan. Then there is Kathy, who has been at the school for two years. They are all trying to figure out what is going on with Steve Harrington.
The man is a complete mystery.
He’s a walking contradiction in a math pun sweatshirt and he is often the topic of conversation when the four of them are alone in the breakroom. Jordan describes him as ‘onion-like’ because he has many layers and Marissa always replies with, ‘yeah, a fucked up alien onion where each new layer is weirder than the last.’
It’s a bit cruel but also, they found an article about Starcourt Mall.
Who is just in a fire? Who saves a bunch of children from a structure fire that collapsed on top of them and doesn’t make it their whole personality for the rest of forever? Who just never mentions it ever?
Steve Harrington, apparently.
After David (and Kathy) left Steve’s house more confused about the mild-mannered math teacher than ever, he went home and googled ‘Eddie Harrington.’ All he found was a link to a Facebook page for some dentist.
So, like, who the hell is he even married to, right? The guy has a Grammy but not a Wikipedia page? What’s up with that?
All David knows is that when Anita (the teacher that’s probably closest to Steve) invites everybody over for a cookout and says that your partners are more than welcomed, he’s going. When Steve asks if it’d be okay if Erica stopped by on her way to the airport and Anita said yes, he’s definitely going.
He is not going to miss the opportunity to see the kid that gave her dad psychic damage by introducing him to the fucked up parts of the My Little Pony fandom. No way.
Kathy informs everybody that she will NOT be bringing her husband, but she will bring booze.
David arrives too early and ends up helping in the kitchen. He’s slicing up tomatoes with the world’s dullest knife when Steve gets there. He can’t see the front door, but he can hear Anita ask, “Oh, where’s your service doggie?”
“It’s his day off,” He hears Steve joke, “Brought the human instead.”
And then David hears the man of mystery’s man of mystery himself because Eddie says with 100% impulsive thinking and 0% brain-to-mouth filter, “Yeah, he brought his service top instead.”
David just knows that Steve is giving Eddie the same dead-eyed look of unbelievable that is reserved for students that mix their chocolate milk with peas and dare each other to drink it in the silence that follows. Anita, bless her heart, replies as happy and clueless as can be, “Oh, that’s cute. Because you provide a top-notch service.”
“Never had any compl- ow!”
The first time David gets a good look at them, Eddie’s pressed up against Steve’s back, looking over his shoulder at the pictures of Anita’s grandkids she has on her phone. One of his hands is wrapped loosely around his waist and Steve is holding the other one, fiddling with the rings on it. They look so casual, like they’re always standing that close together.
David watches as Anita points in the direction of the drinks cooler and Eddie slips away with a kiss to the side of Steve’s neck and then another to his cheek. They hold hands until they absolutely have to let go. It’s cute. Marissa, next to him, scoffs and says, “Gag me with a spoon, they’re fucking adorable.”
Eddie returns to Steve with two beers and a Smirnoff Ice for Anita, gets another kiss and clearly calls Steve ‘sweetie’ when he clinks their bottles together. Steve throws his arm across Eddie’s shoulders and Eddie tucks his hand into Steve’s back pocket like it’s the most casual thing in the world.
David loses track of Steve and Eddie for a while, catching them in his peripheral as he mingles with everybody. He seems them steal a kiss. He sees them laughing at something Kathy says. He sees them holding hands as Eddie looks utterly lost during a discussion of the baseball season.
At one point, he sees Eddie stand up on the bench of the picnic table and get yanked down by Steve. They’re both laughing and Steve gives him a kiss that is not exactly chaste.
Cindy rolls her eyes at them and says that they’re always like that.
Him and Jordan are playing cornhole against Steve and Eddie. He’s almost positive that Eddie is not as bad at the game as he’s pretending to be, but just likes when ‘Stevie baby’ guides him through how to throw the beanbags. If it wasn’t for Steve excusing himself than he probably wouldn’t have noticed the big SUV parked in the driveway.
His first thought when he sees Erica is ‘oh, she must be adopted’ followed immediately by ‘wait, duh’ and then by ‘hey, wait a minute.’
Steve gets stopped by her bodyguard before he can hug her with a big threatening hand on his shoulder. David’s still trying to figure out why she looks so familiar when Erica says to the bodyguard, “Uh, excuse you. Do not touch him. He was my first bodyguard, have some respect.”
Steve scoffs, “I was your babysitter.”
“I’m sorry,” Erica says, full of sass. Eddie is a couple steps back, grinning ear to ear. He loves when Erica and Steve get into it. “Did you bleed for me? Did you fight for me? Did you, Steve Harrington, get tortured so I made it out safe? I think so. Bodyguard.”
Eddie finally greets her with a bow, “Lady Applejack.”
Erica gives him a flat look and tells her bodyguard, “You can tase that one.”
David is still reeling from the words ‘babysitter’ and ‘torture’ that he probably would’ve missed Marissa in his ear if she wasn’t so goddamn loud, “Holy shit, that’s a fucking US Senator.”
Jordan is quieter when she mutters, “Language.”
Later in the evening when the sun is starting to set and they should all really go home and prep their lesson plans for next week, Anita’s husband lights a bonfire. David is sitting across from the fire from Steve and Eddie and he so tempted to ask what Eddie does for a living when Steve whispers something to him and then stands up quickly.
He can’t even ask what that was about because Eddie gets up and follows him, almost matching Steve’s quick steps into the house. They’re gone for a while, long enough that David gets up to check on Steve. He looked pretty pale when he rushed out of here.
He’s halfway up the stairs when he hears them, and he stops. Steve sounds tired but reassuring as he repeats, “I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m fine now.”
He hears Eddie respond with, “I know, baby. I know, but rest with me for a minute, kay?”
When he pokes his head around the turn in the staircase, he can see the bottom of Steve’s Nikes hanging over the top landing. He can also see the bottom of Eddie’s boots where he’s crouched over Steve. His first reaction is to think he stumbled on them in a compromising position, but he can’t bring himself to move just yet.
“You just had a seizure, take your time getting your bearings, sweetheart. Do you wanna go home?” Eddie asks in a cacophony of jingling metal rings and chains. Steve makes a noise that Eddie interprets, “Okay, do you want me to give you space?”
“No, come –“ The sound of metal clinking together doesn’t get louder, just more and when David pokes his head around the corner again, Eddie is straddled across Steve’s lap. Steve’s hands are on his hips and then higher, pushing up Eddie’s shirt clumsily just feeling him. “Feel floaty.”
“I’ll keep you grounded, baby.”
David knows he should leave, or at least looks away, but he stuck frozen to the floor at the sight of the scar tissue running up Eddie’s sides and back. They’re deep and jagged, and old. It looks like he was torn open and sewed back shut, and it takes David a long time to get his feet to go back down the stairs.
He goes back out to the fire a little dazed and later, it’s only Eddie that returns. He whispers something to Anita and then disappears into the night.
When Cindy makes a comment about Steve leaving without a proper goodbye, David tells her to shut up.
#I made one post about David wondering why Eddie Munson is and followed it up with a post where Eddie introduces himself as a Harrington#I think it’s infinitely funnier if David is trying to find info about this man but has the wrong name#Steve has his one-sided beef with Diane. Cindy has hers with Steve#This one is long and it sorta/kinda answers the prompt this time#This was a great prompt. I really enjoyed writing this#eddie munson tiktok saga#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Looking for good romance fics on fimfiction is such a mental endurance task because most of them will be stuff you're not interested in, a good number will be child x adult crap (usually Spike), and then a handful is maybe the worst, most abhorrent and disgusting premise you've ever heard of and they'll have, like, 400 likes. And I'll think to myself, hm. Maybe I don't wanna associate myself with this fandom.
#delete later#personal#not art#feel free to reply to this post w romance fics you enjoyed but i'm a real stickler for good grammar#the well is running dry i fear...#i'm a sucker for crackships lol. i read a good spitfire x twilight and spitfire x nurse redheart fic a while ago#i recently read a really good lightning dust x coco pommel one too#some of y'all can really write on this site! just wish it wasn't so few and far#is it so much to fucking ask for a single celestia ship fic that isn't celestia x twilight#girls celestia met twilight when she was a child. she was her fucking school teacher#that's the most grooming you could possibly get
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Sitting Pretty
This is just pure filth like barely a plot ok 😫🥴
Eddie Munson x Female!reader
18+ONLY
Warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), slight degradation and condescending language (use of slut) (this really isn't degradation in my mind but that's cause I'm used to a lot worse so technically it is but), boot riding, squirting
Eddie dropped the box on the coffee table with a loud thud. It landed next to the other boxes he had carried, and the one you had. After a long day of work, he was tired. He wanted to sit down, relax, and do absolutely nothing. Of course, when you called and said you needed help moving boxes, he came. He knew he was entirely fucked. Wrapped around your fingers. You could tell him to jump and he'd ask how high.
Eddie pushed a strand of hair out of his face, it briefly getting caught on his fingers, making him shake his hand to get it unstuck. He glared at the partially grey hair still wound around his fingers (you said it made him look distinguished and metal. He couldn't complain too much at that). You set your own box on the table and smiled at him,"Thanks Eds, I know you're tired. It means a lot to me you would do this." Eddie hummed,"mhm. What is this stuff anyways?" "Oh, my uncle and aunt were getting rid of a bunch of stuff, so they gave it to my parents, who got rid of more stuff, aaaannnd dumped it on me," you shrugged," I'll go through it and see if there is anything good, then send it to the secondhand store."
Together, you and Eddie started going through the boxes. Eddie pretended to be wounded finding a dungeon master's guide, you found a harmonica and attempted to play a Corroded Coffin song (which had Eddie wheeze laughing and joking about adding a harmonica solo to their next single), he had tried on a pink jacket at your insistence while you had put on a hat that didn't fit (both of you traded items and agreed they looked better on each other then yourselves before promptly tossing the items back in the box), and then you struck gold.
You pulled out a pair of light brown leather cowboy boots. The intricate stitching on the side had caught your eye at the bottom of the box. The tips of the shoes slightly pointed and squared off. You blink at them and hand them to Eddie. Eddie looks at them before scoffing," Nope, those will squish my feet. You see the ends of them?" You roll your eyes," Eddie, if they hurt people's feet why would cowboys wear them? They work on their feet all day!" Eddie was tempted to tease you and say cowboys aren't real, but then you pout at him. The pout making your lips stand out caused him to hesitate. "Please?" He sighed and couldn't help but give you a quick kiss before grumbling and sitting to put the boots on. He could hear your faint cheers as he sat on the recliner.
Your focus was on the box in front of you until you heard Eddie clear his throat and ask,"Well, what do ya think?" You turned and-
Damn.
Eddie stood there with his hands on his hips. Your eyes trailed over him. His curly hair was frizzy from the humidity and a long day of working and sweating at the auto shop. His skin pale, save for a smear of oil on his cheekbone. His tank top showed off his arms beautifully, muscles straining, his bicep wrapped from a new tattoo he had gotten. The tank top tight against his skin, showing you his waist. You could see the bump at his belly button where his piercing was. His jeans were slightly loose, the only light wash pair he owned that he threw on when he hadn't done the laundry. Those stupid cowboy boots sat on his feet, the slight heel giving him extra height. He turned and held his arms out, striking a few poses. They weren't heels, but they made his ass pop (God, now you wanted to see him in heels). The light jeans making his ass look bigger, perfect to hold. Slap even.
"Ya know, they actually are kinda comfortable," Eddie turned back to face you with a smile," they don't- oof!" Eddie lands on the recliner with a grunt from you pushing him. He glares at you," you have to quit doing that! You're gonna strain my back or some shit." "Hm...stop being so fuckable then," you climb on top of his lap and lean close to his ear to whisper," besides, you like it." Eddie clears his throat and grasps your hips. You roll your hips slightly into his, watching him inhale sharply. The scruff of his unshaved jaw beckons you forward, kissing it lightly before trailing down his neck.
You nip and suck at his neck, smirking as he tilts his head to give you better access. His hands that firmly grasp your hips, shift to grab your ass instead. You hum as you pull back, staring at the glistening neck and the lovely purple mark you left. It may be childish to leave a hickey, but you couldn't help but want to mark Eddie up, adding shades of purple and red near his existing tattoos. Eddie's eyes are blown, his pale face flushed a deep red. You shift on top of him, rolling your hips into his again, feeling his hardening length. The feeling of you grinding against him makes him groan. Unbuttoning his jeans, you awkwardly try to unzip them, leaning back into Eddie's hands. He takes that moment to squeeze your ass. You whimper at the feeling and lean forward to kiss him, thoughts of removing his pants forgotten.
His lips are soft, slightly chapped, but still so plush against yours. Your mouths move in tandem, tongues darting out. Eddie licks into your mouth, groaning as he takes control. He sucks on the tip of your tongue before pulling back. Both of you taking deep breaths. "Take these off baby," Eddie mumbles, tugging at the hem of your shorts. You nod and clamber off him.
You push your shorts and panties down, balancing a hand on Eddie's knee as you step out of them. You go to get back on Eddie but he stops you," Now hold on, baby." You let out a whine in annoyance. Eddie chuckles and clicks his tongue at you," You seem all pent up, what's got you like this?" "You, now let me on-" "Nah, I think it's something else. Like my boots, Baby?" You nod emphatically, attempting to straddle Eddie again, but he puts his leg out in front of you. The sole of his boot presses against your stomach, and he pushes you back lightly. "Prove it pretty girl."
You pause and tilt your head slightly before grasping Eddie's boot covered ankle. Eddie nods to his foot and taps your stomach with the sole. You step back and bend at the hips, eyes locked with Eddie's, and kiss the tip of the boot. He chuckles and motions you with a finger to continue. You give the boot another kiss, and another. The leather firm against your mouth. Eddie smirks," You can do better then that." "I'm not licking the boot." You stand up and drop Eddie's foot with a thud. Eddie relaxes back spreading his legs, "Who said anything about licking? What's that saying...save a horse, ride a cowboy?"
You blink at him as your mouth falls open. Eddie taps the boot against the hardwood ground, causing clicks to echo. "Go on pretty girl." You can feel your arousal slowly drip down your thighs at the thought of Eddie's request. It was demeaning, dirty, and damn if it didn't delight you. You slowly kneel at Eddie's feet, lowering yourself until your core hit the leather.
The fabric was stiff and slightly rough against your pussy. Your arousal dripping onto the boot, causing it to slicken and make it easier to move. You look up from where you're situated to look at Eddie. You can't help the moan that escapes at the site of him. The once slightly baggy jeans are now very filled out from his bulge. One hand resting on it, squeezing lightly. The top of his unbuttoned jeans showing off his happy trail. The opal belly button piercing glinting in the light. The tattoo of the dragon above the jewelry moving with every deep breath he takes. A hickey on his pec from last week. The rest of his tattoos scattered about, glistening from sweat. The scruff on his jaw and neck. The grey hairs at his temples. The smirk on his face, even though it is flushed. The demeaning look he gives you.
You grind against the boot, faltering slightly under his gaze. "Look at you, sitting pretty," Eddie coos at you, patting your head. He knows you hate that, making you feel small. Stupid. "Such a good slut, making my boots all wet." His words make you clench around nothing, throbbing with want.
You buck your hips quicker against his boot. You shift angles slightly and moan as the boot rubs against your clit. The sensation is too much. The pleasure invades your brain, coherent thoughts gone. You feel the pressure building in your lower stomach. A tingly warmth spreading out from your core. "Fuck I'm-" your breath hitches and your hips fumble losing rhythm. "Come for me baby," Eddie grasps your jaw firmly, tilting your head up to face him," Drench my boots like the good slut you are, pretty girl." You gasp as the pressure builds to a crescendo. Your eyes close and you moan head falling back in pleasure. Lights flash behind your eyes as euphoria spreads throughout your limbs. You distantly feel the wetness gush as your hips buck wantonly. Your brain goes fuzzy with static from euphoria. You briefly hear Eddie moan a fuck.
You come back down to earth, loosening your grip on Eddie's thighs. You hadn't even realized you were gripping them. You scoot away from his boot, still on your knees. The light brown leather is soaked, turning a dark brown. A puddle of your release is on the boot, making you feel warm from embarrassment.
"Fucking hell...you squirted," Eddie shakes his head and chuckles. You stand on shaky legs, Eddie helping hold you in place. You glance down at the puddle slowly dripping off his shoe and onto the floor. "Can I ride you now?" You ask saccharinely.
"You're gonna have to give me a minute," Eddie's eyes dart away from yours, clearing his throat. He shifts and you glance at the movement. His jeans are slightly loose again. The light denim jeans having turned dark at a wet spot. "Made me come like a fucking teenager," Eddie stands grabbing your hand. He tugs on your arm, leading you towards the bedroom.
You were definitely keeping the cowboy boots.
#Is this the same Eddie from Wrecked yes yes it is will I ever write a part 2 to that uh maybe#I love this older Eddie with a belly button piercing he has invaded my brain and taken up residence in my heart#I realized after I finished this you are basically doing a Winnie the Pooh in over half of this#You really did soak his shoes making them shine#Anyways no Eddie isnt a cowboy but he could be he has the swagger for one#This isn't even really degradation in my mind but I know it is to some so#eddie munson x you#Eddie Munson x y/n#Eddie Munson x reader#Eddie Munson/you#Eddie Munson/reader#Eddie Munson x female!reader#Eddie Munson smut#Eddie Munson/female!reader#Stranger Things#Also please go read and enjoy cowboy Eddie fics cause they are so good#ALSO if anyone is reading this I did try to make like a header picture thing but it kept deleting paragraphs when it was added#So I went without cause really we dont need that we need the words#Is this well done no but it is done and I am well so#Jade is Talking
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