#i wish i could tag the word fuck 12 more times
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just came out as trans to my sister HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIMGOINGTOBESICKHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHASHETOOKITWELLBUTSTILLHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
#jesus christ#fuck#i wish i could tag the word fuck 12 more times#because fuck#a weight off my chest but also another fucking learning curve i have to witness#the mentally ill child who is always struggling with SOMETHING#when ur the one to cause your family so much stress and chaos and now here is another curveball!!!#i’m relieved don’t get me wrong but fuck this is scary#because what if i’m wrong????#and this is just another thing i was confused about???#(i am not wrong and i am not confused but STILL lmfao i would be proving their suspicions right#like oh (redacted legal name) was just confused again. always something with *her*!#anyways i will be fine and i am extremely lucky to have supportive family#but still— some of my lore lied bare on the tl. enjoy it#trans#swampy shitposts
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#vent#i had a lot of tags typed out but idk#long story short i wish my parents paid more attention to me#that sounds so weird to say lmao#i have a coworker who can make me cry on demand if she says something nice and encouraging to me#and i had to make a very scary phone call at work today and cried for like 20 minutes straight while trying super hard to stop lol#i cried a) bc of the call b) bc my coworkers were being nice and motherly to me and c) bc i was humiliated#and then ofc the coworker that makes me cry all the times sees right through all the fucking facades and says#''just remember that there is nothing shameful about being emotional'' like. okay. just adopt me while you're at it#like a single word from this woman literally turns me into a scared 12 year old again and she absolutely knows it#idk what this post is about#i wish i didn't have the emotional maturity of a scared 12 year old#like im trying very hard to be professional and not get too attached bc i get paid dogshit#but. :(#once i start tearing up it is over for me for like. 20 min MINIMUM. usually more like an hour#i do not just ''stop crying''#i have too many chemicals in my brain all the time and they have to come out !#wish I could hear encouraging words from mother figures without bursting into fucking tears though#is there a way to train myself to stop crying so easily without like. causing irreparable emotional damage lol#cause its quite inconvenient
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✿༝༚༝༚ Wrapped in red ✿༝༚༝༚
・❥・Kuroo x reader
・❥・synopsis-> hey siri, what are the consequences of surprising your fiancé with a lingerie under a coat for his birthday?
・❥・ word count-> 5.6k words (nobody look at me)
・❥・content warning-> mdni, explicit smut, fem!reader, cun!lli!ngu$
・❥・a.n -> this is the last time I'll be reposting this if tumblr still doesn't like me I got nothing to do. Tagging a bunch of my mutuals so that atleast they can enjoy. may your cheese rot tumblr. Also happy kuroo day ignore I'm this late everyday is kuroo day stfu. dividers by @cafekitsune , @benkeibear and @quirrrky
Kuroo can feel the chills of the winter already settling in mid-November. The expanse of his living room is veiled with a thin layer of frigidness. The tiles were cold and a siren of silence rings through till the ends, until the little clock resting on the small table breaks through the curse with the beginning of a new day. 17th November. He stares at the clock. The slick hands points to 12, busy announcing his 29th birthday. It is a small, black, cat shaped clock that you found from god knows where and gifted him out of blue. Your justification being “it looks like you”. Kuroo snickers at the sudden wave of memory.
A whole lot of other things around his house are also extensions of you – the little section of potted plants on the shelves, the matching coffee cups, the red mittens hanging over the oven handle, kitchen magnets comprising pictures from both of your trip to Paris. They all are like pockets of your shadow scattered around, giving little hints of the day when you’ll ultimately mark your reign as the Mrs. of this house.
But as of tonight, each of them wildly indicates your lack of presence. Kuroo discerns that the silence was not any call of winter, rather it’s the sheer absence of your chortles and excited squeals around the house, especially tonight.
Kuroo was never that big on celebrating his birthdays, being on a competitive position in corporate asked for lot of compromises and Kuroo had wired himself to do that in his early years on job, not caring about forgetting his birthdays and stuff. Still, he manages to dig up time when it comes to yours or others. The man that he always is - relentless in his acts of services.
However, you being around never quite made it possible for Kuroo to actually forget about his day. Always the more excited one, the best planner and as always, a little better than the previous years. Whether it be by throwing a grand party in a club for him or just by yourselves, with home cooked mackerel and rice, catching the golden sunset above and just savouring the day with a casket of good memories to look back on. Or it may be simply you by his side that makes each of his birthdays something to look forward to, even while being clutched by stress and non-stop work.
He was indeed getting spoiled by such pampering because, as of this moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to be around you. To bask in the incessant warmth of your hugs and engulf himself in the pool of your kisses. Fuck. he really wishes you weren’t drowned in your work right now just so your singsong voice of Happy Birthday could reach his ears the first. He peers at his phone, several texts from his co-workers and friends wishing him were flooded in his notification bar, along with your last text, sent over an hour ago.
Love♡♡ : work is so crazy right now, they should pay me for even gracing them my time this late >:(( anyways, good night. love you tets <;33
Nothing after that. He stares at the text. You weren’t online which meant you are either too busy in work or have already fallen asleep…without wishing him?
A small twinge of hurt pinched his heart at the thought of it. Although he tries to reason it with your pressure at work. But it’s been like this for a few days, you completely submerged in work, barely getting the chance to even facetime, not being overly zealous atleast 3 business days before his birthday.
The little red demon above his head tries to play tricks yet his heart works with rationale – leading two projects at the same time meant things will slip up. Distance may be bound to form. Who knows? even paths of life may deviate from one another and eventually-
His train of thought cuts short by the sharp ring of the doorbell. It’s 12:30 already. Kuroo internally pleads that it’s not some surprise by his former teammates because without you, he doesn’t think he will indulge even a slightest bit.
The door swings open and so does kuroo’s jaw. You, in your full glory, a ginormous beige jacket wrapped all over you, hair dishevelled from the wind, yet framing the most beautiful face in the world, stand at the threshold, panting and holding a large box of what seems like a cake.
“Oh my gosh tetsu, I was almost about to punch the baker. Dumbass messed up my whole timing”
Kuroo was still busy steadying himself but he shifts from his place, allowing you to scoot past him and settle yourself in the dining seat, placing the cake there.
Weren’t you asleep? Weren’t you way too busy to come? What is going on?
He looks at you, making yourself comfortable at his space, like you are just meant to fit inside these 4 walls. The frosty silence suddenly vanishing by the cauldron of warmth you bring with you everywhere. He can’t wait for the day when it will be regular sight.
“Baby, are you gonna stand there the whole night?” you giggle, striding towards his still figure beside the doorway. You hook your arms around his waist, your head tipping back as you stand on your toes, planting a soft kiss over his lips.
Kuroo’s eyes flutters shut as he draws himself into every fleeting moment of this kiss. His hands find your cheeks and large palms cradles them as gently as a rose petal, head dipping down to take in more of the feeling of your lips against him. The taste of your cherry balm engulfing him.
You part from him, merely inches away as your lower lips bruses against each other. You whisper into the small gap, “Happy Birthday, my love. I’m not too late, am I?”
“Doesn’t matter when your wish is what makes it worth. I almost thought you forgot” he hums, hands curling up against your neck, urging you to look at him. You crane your head up, meeting those honeyed eyes pooling with a multitude of emotions.
“Awe you miss me that much? I have been real quiet this year on purpose. Trying something a little different”, you cheekily say, poking your tongue out. Kuroo quirks an eyebrow, “always a step ahead, aren’t you?” he pecks your forehead while a small whisper of “I love you. Thank you for making this day something to look forward to” grazes over your skin. Your feel the kaleidoscope of butterflies zooming inside your ribcage, for the way his words echoed through the drums of your heart. As if the resonance between his and your heart just created more love to harbour.
"Tetsu", you grab his face, dipping his tall frame downwards to place another kiss. This time between his eyes. Hoping this kiss was equivalent to the million words he said with those gaze a few seconds ago.
You take his hand, pulling him towards the cake, “now now, it’s not the time to be all mopey. I fought for this cake and now you get to commemorate this day of high significance”. Kuroo chuckles, you were full of beans indeed.
To think just a few moments back his thoughts were spiralling, he registers that that how much you being by his side grounds his inner monologue of hidden insecurity. Kuroo is always the epitome of confident man but the inner cloud of anxiety yet rumbles time to time. Until, your presence acts like the yellowy sunshine after rain, banishing any grey thoughts that dare to delude him.
“Why such high significance, may I ask?” you roll your eyes, amusement twinkling in your eyes and you answer like this is the most simple question ever, “Because you got to be born and be my boyfriend and then my groom-to-be, duh”, wiggling the left ring finger, you laugh. Shaking his head, he tunes into the peals of laughter with you. He cuts the cake, feeding you a piece before noticing you were still in your coat.
“Baby, are you that cold? You know you could wait a bit more for your winter cloth haul” he gestures at the neck high coat. You squirm a little. He finally noticed.
“y-yeah, I know. there’s a…reason”, you send a sheepish smile on his way, effectively avoiding his gaze.
Kuroo reaches towards you, curious at your shift in demeanor. He leans down, meeting your gaze with his ever sharp ones and you found yourself faltering a bit, heartbeat pacing higher than normal.
“Princess, are you okay? you got a fever?” he runs his hand over your forehead to which you shake your head. Taking his fingers in yours, your fingertips glides over his knuckles. Unable to stall in any longer, you slung your arms around his neck.
“Actually, I have your gift”, bringing your mouth closer to his ear as you whisper, “right under”, you murmur. His hand is now brought on your lower back, the feel of your skin right underneath the coat, clearly evident.
Kuroo sucks in a breath, catching on to your innuendo immediately. Palms migrates towards your shoulder blades where he can feel the thin strap and bare skin over the coat. Curiosity killed the cat and now he just got fucking murdered.
“Hmmm? Should’ve said it earlier, princess.” kuroo hums, a mellowy timbre coating his voice. You gulp audibly, anticipating his moves.
His hands trail over your shoulders, reaching up and stop around the collar of your coat, playing with the top button as he flashes his Cheshire like smile. Demeanor changing from concerned to smug in a flash of light. You keep your eyes on him, heavy breaths escapes your nose and mouth. Kuroo leans forward, his voice now merely a whisper tickling your ears.
“Should I guess what my present is?” he asks coyly. You can feel the teasing glint the words carry.
“You can open it already, y’know?” your voice had an air of neediness, wanting nothing more than to indulge in his touches and losing yourself in him for the night.
Kuroo tuts, shaking his head in faux disappointment, “tsk tsk tsk. it’s my present, princess. Let me enjoy it. in my way”. With that, he flicks the button open, his eyes catching a hint of red around your neck. A dark chuckle escapes his throat.
“Red, huh? You surely did some homework before”, another button pops open, this time, the base of your throat open up and a little red ribbon wrapped around the middle like a bow greets him.
Kuroo felt his heart thrumming loudly, imagining what he could find after fully unbuttoning your coat. The suspense of the act spiking his blood and rushing downwards towards his crotch, he can already feel himself getting hard. God, you really knew how to outdo yourself every single year.
Kuroo presses a kiss right beside that bow, feeling your erratic pulse against his lips. It curls into a smirk, right against your skin. You tip your head back, eyes closing and hands finding their way to the hem of his shirt.
“Uh-uh, princess. Not so early.” Kuroo envelopes his hands over yours, before bringing them together behind your back, caging you between his hold. His right hand, once again, flits back in its previous mission while his left hooks both of yours ; effectively locking them behind your back. “Not until I’m done unwrapping my present”. A kiss plants underneath your ear; the skin tingling with its effect.
“You sure are taking a hell lot of time” you scorn. Kuroo chortles, popping another button open. This time a part of your sternum peeps out, he can make out the hint of cleavage from the skin exposed. More blood runs downwards and kuroo fights the urge to tear the coat off and bend you against the table to ravage you then and there.
“Good things take time, princess. Moreover, you seem to enjoy it.” Kuroo muses, his hips roll against yours and you could feel the hardness of his crotch brushing up against your lower belly. “Take this as a punishment for being late to my birthday” he opens another button and the lace cupped cleavage makes their way.
“But it wasn’t my fault.” you pout. You’re so adorable, kuroo thinks. He laughs under his breath before pressing a soft kiss against your cheek. His hands trail over your sternum, dipping down towards the fat of tits spilling out before he ghosts over them ever so slightly, drawing a whine out of you from the untouched touch.
“Oh but you were…” he drawls, “to think you went outside like this. Being a naughty little girl, are we now, princess?”. You open your mouth to say something but his lips silences yours. His tongue almost immediately finding its way in your mouth and playing with yours.
The kiss was sloppy with the way kuroo laps at your top lip, engulfing it in his mouth, saliva smears over your upperlips and drips down your lowers. The steamy makeout session in addition to the his hips grinding against your coat covered crotch leaves you staggering.
One by one, he unbuttons the whole coat till the end, each time kissing a part of you he passes in the process, to all the way down, where he is kneeling. He looks above to see your figure hugged by this beautiful dark red fabric, only covering the bare necessities.
He is eye level with your bare thigh, the plush skin adorned by a thin lacy garter, linked to the equally thin panties with a small band of cloth. You feel his hand runs across the back of your thigh, the cool band of your engagement ring gliding smoothly over your skin. The pads of his fingers dip down a little deep when he reaches your almost bare ass.
“Fuck. what I’d do to you” you hear him murmur against your lace clad thigh. He scrapes his teeth against the fabric, peeling it off and exposing the beautiful skin out. The sharpness of his teeth mingles with the softness of his lips as he sucks and nips at the skin, leaving a purple well of mark around that area. Your breath hitches as you feel the dull throb of the hickey while he continues his ministration all over your inner thighs.
“We better take this to the room before I end up taking you right here” his teeth still ghosts over your skin, now attaching around the band of your garter, tugging it gently before releasing it back, the elastic smacking your skin, causing a whine to tumble out your throat. His actions causing your pussy clench around the fabric.
He continues his journey up with his mouth before reaching your pussy. The material doing nothing to hide the outline of your cunt and looking closely enough he sees the dampness that is caused by your arousal. His fingers join in, smoothing upwards over the fabric gently. A moan leaves your lips, with the way he is being tantalisingly slow. If you could, you would have shoved his fingers inside.
“Already wet and I barely did anything, baby. Wait for the real action atleast” his voice sardonic and praising simultaneously. He plants a kiss right over your crotch before trailing upwards.
“Tetsu, you little-” you whine to which kuroo snickers. He loves you to death but he loves it more than anything when he is edging you and you are writhing and pleading.This is when he gets the chance fill you to brim with pleasure. The power surge he gets from this is immeasurable, when nothing leaves your mouth except his name.
“What, my darling?” kuroo kisses below your navel, his lips smoothing over the surface with no friction. He peppers your stomach with nips and kisses before reaching under your breasts. A small kiss between the valley of your tits and then he finally rises up. He caresses the sides of your breats before holding you by your waist, squeezing you gently,pulling your figure flush against him. His hardened member now rocking against you with less obstruction.
Kuroo tugs the coat off of your shoulder and it pools around your ankle, revealing your whole set to your fiance. Kuroo gawks at your figure, as if time stopped its track for him to drink your body with his eyes.
“God you’re fucking beautiful” his voice low and husk filled. Kuroo peppers kisses on the curve of your shoulders, hiking his lips up into the crevice of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses trailing towards your jaw.
You have always been the prettiest for him but this colour on you has popped out every feature of yours in the most alluring, elegant way. Kuroo huffs out short breaths as his eyes find it difficult to tear away from you, he eyes you from down to up before his eyes land on that ribbon.
Oh fuck that ribbon. The way you made yourself like a present, kuroo is positive there isn’t any better gift in the whole planet than the one before his eyes. His lips find you again, passion and lust permeating through the kiss. His hands reach up to your breasts and he gives them a good squeeze. The nipples pert and poking through the cloth against his palm.
He guides your body along with his towards the bedroom without breaking the kiss, stumbling along the way but nonetheless reaching towards the edge of the bed. He pushes you, still connected with your lips, cradling your head before you fall into the heap of soft mattress. His body hovers over yours and one of his knees positions dangerously close to your cunt.
“We gotta take this off before I tear it and that is the last thing I wanna do” kuroo husks, his hand deftly working their way to take off the top.
Not that it did anything to cover what’s underneath, yet as he removes the bra and sees your tits spill out, he couldn’t help but take one in his mouth. Fondling the other one with his hand.
The feel of his mouth finally somewhere on you has you teetering on the edge, you let out out a moan. Your hands rake through his ink black locks while he tugs you nipple with his teeth. His knee presses against your almost bare pussy the sensation spikes your insides.
Your hands reach for his shirt once again, urging him to take it off , to which he obliges but not before remarking something about it.
“Can’t wait to see me naked, guess I can indulge in your desire a little bit”, you roll your eyes. Smug bastard. You feel him shift downwards, his knees touching the floor while leaving you sprawling on the bed, he adjusts your legs around his shoulders before scooting downwards.
His hands plays around your nipples, twisting and turning while his mouth travels south. He lets his teeth do the work, pulling at the underwear and tugging it off of you, finally letting the sight of your clenched cunt soothe his eyes. The way he keeps a unbreaking eye contact while doing the dirtiest of act makes your arousal seep down your cunt even more. He tugs the panties halfway through before teething at the garter again, slowly dragging it across you skin and pulling it off.
“Practising for the big day, princess” he grunts, taking them off of you fully. You let out a light croon, even amidst the unholy acts of provocation, the gentle reminder of your promised near future sends you into a blissful train of thought.
Kuroo’s sharp nip at your inner thigh brings you back. He stares at you with drooping eyes, silently challenging you to not break the contact as he lowers himself over your slit. He licks a stripe of your pussy, the feel of his tongue like millions of fireworks inside your nerves. You silently breath out a gasp while kuroo begins his onslaught of kitten licks over your cunt. Gradually reaching to your clit. He presses a kiss over the nub before capturing it with his mouth, gently sucking on it.
His tongue flicks your now swollen clit as you rock your body, bringing him closer, as if it’s anyways possible. Your mingled sounds of squeals and moans and whines mixes with the soft squelch of his fingers entering you. He prods them gently over your walls, knowing where to stretch and poke to evoke the most raw reaction from you.
“Tetsu…fuck...aah..” your voice are nothing more than little tufts of breaths as he shifts his pace every so often, while never leaving your puffed clit unattended. The alternate of his tongue and fingers works wonders to roll you over the edge.
“Cum for me, baby” you hear his raspy voice vibrating across your skin, he sloppily makes out with your slit before driving his tongue inside, his face tilts as he tries to reach as deep inside you as he can. The grip of his hands on your thighs tightening. His cock feels heavy and the burning desire to replace it with his tongue flames his inside – but not before he makes you cum like this atleast twice.
Two of his fingers drum over your clit while his tongue prods inside you. His jaw hurts but nothing matters when he gets to see the expression he draws out of you. Mouth falls open, while your head tips back. Not giving a damn about keeping eye contact because fuck if you could have exploded out of your body, you would.
Kuroo groans at the irresistible feel of your essence around his tongue, “tastes so good for me”, he hums around your pussy. You could feel the wave of arousal waiting to burst and as you hear the words escape his mouth, your body reacts on accord. Back arches beautifully as you release yourself against kuroo’s lips.
Your mind levitates in the cloud of bliss while you feel Kuroo laps at your essence, the drag of his lips against you too euphoric. to joyful to get down from. But even while being on the daze, you feel Kuroo going at your pussy once again.
“T-Tetsu…hnnggh”, you can feel the added force that his tongue applies as it drives inside you once again.
“You thought I’d leave you to come around my tongue only once.” he rasps, his nose brushes against the overstimulated clit. He nuzzled himself against your cunt, his hands reaching over your ass and kneading the soft flesh. You let a wanton moan, too loud for the neighbours to not hear. Kuroo smiles, tongue thrusting inside your cushiony walls even more.
You could feel your body quivering, preparing itself for another wave of orgasm not long after the previous one. You tug at his hair, your nails scraping against his scalp. Your other hand grabs at your breast to hold onto something. A sight Kuroo savours from behind his bangs that cover his face.
“I’m gonna…” you whine, thighs jolting around his arms while he keeps them locked. “Make a mess around my face, darling. Let go.” Kuroo was getting delirious at your taste. His cock nearly bursting his load in his pants. He rubs against the board of the bed, releasing some friction. He can sense your orgasm looming and naturally, he increases the pace, tumbling you over the edge for the second time. His teeth grazes the clit, giving it some attention before a harsh suckle has you going for the 2nd time that night.
Your back arches, juices spraying out of your pussy. Kuroo is enthralled seeing you this dirty, this sexy, this sinful. You didn’t hold back your sounds either, sweet melodies of his name with pleasured moans ringing throughout the room and satisfying Kuroo’s ears as he succeeds in making you spent.
Not that he intends to stop yet.
Your body is still quivering, the afterwave of the pleasure still gushing inside your body. Kuroo caresses your thighs and hips, coaxing your body to relax.
“You did so well, my sweet baby. looking gorgeous cumming around my face like that”, kuroo engulfs your mouth, his tongue shoves yours around and you decide to suck the tip of his tongue, relishing in the tangy essence of yours. A moan erupts from the man above as your wrap your hands around his sculpted back, losing yourself in the kiss.
Kuroo helps you get down from the high before flipping you over. You notice the way he positioned you both, you are right in front of the dressing mirror.
When did he even do that?
Kuroo kneads your ass from behind, while another hand grabs your chin to make you look at the mirror.
“Eyes up there, baby. Watch how I fuck this little pussy into oblivion”, you can feel his clothed cock grinding against your ass. Whimpering, you wiggle back, feeling more of him, causing Kuroo to suck in a breath.
“Behave, darling.” Kuroo lightly smacks your ass, watching the flesh ripple and groaning at the sight.
You look over your shoulders at him. He looks so broad, the toned sculpture of his long hours at gym and sports really gifted you with a goldy sight. His face flushed with crimson and copper eyes blown out with lust. The contour of his abs to sexy to not gawk 24/7. His sweatpants are already hung low, cock whipped out, hard and swollen. The tip angry with precum dripping down the globes of your ass. You try to shift back, intending to return the favour he generously gave you a while back.
But Kuroo , not-so-gently puts you back on your position, grabbing your shoulders and pushing you against the sheets. Your ass hiked up more to flash the clenching pussy in the air. The cold draft blowing around your sticky folds making you shiver.
“Tetsu!” you exclaim, as he starts dragging his length over your folds, adding more of his arousal with yours, the spot lubed and moist for Kuroo to slide right in.
“What did I say about behaving, princess? Are you looking for to get punished?” his voice dark and menacing, only reserved for you, in the bed. You shake your head, eyes locked with his through the mirror. Your nipples brush against your sheets with the way you are bent, adding more to the sensation.
You try to tug off the red ribbon, not wanting any ounce of fabric on your skin when kuroo grabs your hand, harshly. Hooking it over your back, he hikes your body up a little higher, his cock straight against your fold, the tip hitting snug the clit. His eyes are narrowed, eyes a little menacing,
“Don’t you dare take that off. This stays on.” his voice low. You mewled an okay, too entranced with the way he looks behind your back to notice his manhandling.
“That’s my girl”, kuroo hums before sliding inside you with ease. The remnants of previous shenanigans making it easy. Your mouth falls in a O as you feel the ridge of his cock gliding past your walls. With each of his inch bottoming inside you, you let out a moan, voice deliriously filthy. The sounds like a dulcet for him.
He rams the last of his inch at once, making your body lurch forward. Your face scrunched in a beautiful frown, teeth digging at your lips. Hair falls over your face as you dip your head down to adjust to his size. Kuroo becomes too busy admiring your features through the mirror. You look like a goddess, a goddess he brought down on her knees before him.
He was probably too enticed because it wasn’t until the roll of your hips around his pelvis that dragged him down to where he was. “T-tetsu. movee” , he hears your plead.
“As you say, baby girl.” kuroo starts drilling his cockinside, sliding in and out of you, the head colliding with the gummy walls near your cervix. You were pushed forward with the intensity of his thrust yet the feeling of his prominent vein grinding inside your wall was too heavenly to complain.
It was him and you, intertwined with each other, knocking the door of lust but beneath it was promises of love.
The grip of his fingers around your hip was deathly. It sure is gonna leave a dent. Kuroo grunts and groans as he watches the base of cock froth with both of your juices. The squelching sound everytime he enters you fills the room along with the slaps of the skin.
You could feel his balls hitting you right above the clit, light strokes against them making you dizzy . His hands snakes around your stomach, reaching your clit. He takes the nub between his two fingers, rolling them around and pinches it. You squeal at his actions, back bending away from him, but the grip of his arm around keeps you flush.
“Your pussy is made right for me. Almost made me bust a nut the moment I slid my cock inside, sh-shit. so fucking tight and clenching” , his words are so vile, yet so sweet to hear. He bends down, back flush with his chest as he presses a hoard of kisses around your nape and shoulders. Suckling the skin and leaving out purple marks in its wake.
“Tetsu..more…you feel so good against me” you cry, eyes rolling with the way he is snapping his hips against yours. The constant assault over your g-spot inside and the clit outside once again announces the impending avalanche.
“More you say? Greedy girl.” he rasps before hoisting you up, one hand still playing with your clit while the other finding your left breast.
Cupping the whole fat of it, he squeezes the mound hard. His hips unrelenting with their strokes. The bed creaks from the sudden movement. The headboard banged against the wall once. Now the neighbours are definitely gonna know.
“So fucking beautiful. Truly the best gift ever, princess. I love you so much”, you turn sideways to face him, his molten amber eyes mirroring the heart eyes you are sending him across.
You capture his lips in a soft kiss, your hands reaching his face to cradle the sides and pulling the front tufts a little. Vibrations of hums and moans share between you two in the kiss, while both your bodies work on their own accord. The golden light of the lamp falls over your skin, the golden iridescence reflecting of your skin makes you nothing less than a fallen angel. The halo like glow of your body makes Kuroo's heart gallop loudly. Makes him wonder how he managed to find someone as perfect as you are.
“Look at the mirror. See how ethereal you look while taking me like that. God really took time while making you” , you chuckle at his cheesy words. No matter how dominant he acts in bed, at the end it was still your dorky, corny Tetsu.
You zero in the way he fucks you, the outline of his cock visible as he drills into you. A dragged moan fills the air. kuroo kisses around your temple, his thrusts erratically hits you, losing rhythm. You realise he’s close, so you arch your back, feeling more of him inside. Fucking himself inside you.
Kuroo hisses at the act, his fingers pinching your clit in return. Your walls clamp around his shaft, making him lose all the threads he had been holding onto ever since he buried his face in your cunt.
“Shit, baby...take me…take all of it. Let's cum together”, his babbles choking in his throat as he thrusts in you one last time before warm ropes of his cum fills your pussy. You came around the same time, pooling his thighs with hot, sticky mess.
He kisses you throughout the high, a level of euphoria never felt before. He realises he didn’t use any condom today neither did you retorted against it. Kuroo slides out of you, your cunt clenches from the lack of his heavy cock. He gently lays you down, bringing a wet towel and cleaning off the spilled cum from your thighs and his. Your face beams with the post-coital bliss as you spread your arms over your head, breathing heavily.
“You good?”, kuroo asks, his voice regaining the gentle hold back. You nod, closing your eyes and relaxing yourself.
“If I knew you’d go this crazy over a lingerie set, I’d have thought it through before buying.” you breathily say, seeing Kuroo’s face turn a little red. The debauchery dawning on him a little.
“You could wear an overalls over a trash bag and I’d still fuck you the same. It’s you who’s this hot”, Kuroo plants a sloppy kiss on your cheek, his hands smoothing your hair. He scoots you over, finding himself a space beside, pulling you against his side. His fingers work through your scalp while you find warmth in his body.
The comfortable setting almost lulling you to sleep before you lurch up, face palming yourself. Kuroo sits back, concerned at your sudden leap, while you look at him with guilty eyes.
“I forgot your actual gift at home, while being too excited for this one.”, you hide your face between your palm, whining and falling back on his chest. A hearty laughter rolls out of Kuroo at your state while he rubs your shoulders. His mind already bent on to tease you.
“Wanna suck me off to balance that out?” kuroo sends a sly grin your way, his voice holding a glint of tease but really not expecting you to wallow in.
To his surprise, you part away from his chest, face filled with a challenging gleam. Without any words, you straddle him, holding his cock by the base. A dopey smile spreading all over your face.
“Say less. I’ve been meaning to do that since forever.”
a.n-> aint nobody leaving the house without giving him a sloppy. if tags dont work and it flops then im giving him an even intense sloppy
comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated
tagging : @stsgluver , @kuroosexuall @shotorus + @satoruhour @hannzai @tetzoro @mrs-kurooo @quirrrky @pastelle-rabbit @planetnini @selarina @sookisaurus @itadorey @utahimeow @this-is-still-mia @kamorikiri @shoyostar @screampied-main
#sam.writes#sam.in.hq#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x reader smut#kuroo x reader#kuroo x reader smut#haikyuu smut#kuroo smut#kuroo tetsuro smut#kuroo x you smut#haikyuu x you smut#kuroo x yn#haikyuu x yn#kuroo tetsuro x reader#kuroo tetsuro x reader smut#kuroo imagines#haikyuu#kuroo tetsuro#hq kuroo#hq smut#kuro hcs
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may i request scenario (12) cheating on you with prompt 7 "only if you knew how much i liked you." drabble pls, with dazai, fyodor, and chuuya? those characters were the only ones that popped into my mind lmao . . .
yes ma’am the angst is gonna go crazy and this is gonna be without Fyodor because so many others asked for him TvT
✧˚ · . whose heart could I break today? - BSD men when they cheat on you
He loved you. But he couldn’t help it.
summary ⋆ ★ angst, cheating, minor NSFW, crying men (chuuya)
Dazai Osamu:
It was just a mission at first. You two were sent to infiltrate a party and intercept a parcel. Easy, right? That’s what you both thought at first. His lips gave yours a short kiss before walking into the building separately. No one should be able to link the two of you together, after all.
Of course soon after entering Dazai was already being pawed at by rich women cooing at him for just a second of his time. A small bit of desire had risen in his lower abdomen, but when he saw you across the room, he urged himself not to be misled. He was a scoundrel, but he wasn’t a cheater. So why was it that barely half an hour later he found himself locked in a room with some woman he hardly knew, hushing her with his fingers while he pounded into her?
A woman that wasn’t you. When he came back out, clothes slightly disheveled and skin glistening with sweat, you knew. Oh, how that dread hit you like a train. How you wished you really were hit by a train in that moment when he looked at you and knew that you knew. You felt so fucking dumb. So stupid to believe his words that he was loyal to you and you only.
There you were, a broken heart and the realization that your partner cheated on you. Your now ex-boyfriend.
When you left the party—the mission completely forgotten by the both of you—he soon followed after, fingers outstretched to grasp your shoulder, lips aching to say how sorry he was and that he just couldn’t resist her. But he held back. Let you walk away as he stood there in the rain, a sad smile on his face.
Yet another one lost. All because of him. Dazai Osamu couldn’t ever keep anything, could he?
Chuuya Nakahara:
Alcohol. The one thing that he resented now.
The thing that made him lose you. Dimmed his moral compass and loyalty to you. Chuuya’s always been such a loyal person. Hell, he was a puppy when it came to you. Or at least used to be. But he fucked it up. Became too tipsy one night at a bar when you weren’t there because you were at your job. Chuuya took another woman to your home, to your shared bed.
While you worked, he fucked.
Chuuya felt so guilty when the high wore off and the girl went home. When you got home, he immediately told you and begged for forgiveness, getting on his knees even and sobbing that he didn’t want you to leave. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he drunkenly rambled about how you were everything to him.
You left the next morning.
He took the day off—the whole event hitting him coupled with his hangover—and let the memories wash over him. Countless kisses stolen, nights in bed spent gossiping and binging Netflix. Not to mention the more tender ones. You going with him to the Flags’ graves on the anniversary of their deaths. Reassuring him that he was human when he swore he wasn’t. Why didn’t he realize how much you two were meant for one another?
Nakahara Chuuya once had a soulmate.
Now, he lacked one.
A.N: I think you can tell I put in more effort for Chuuya. don’t complain.
Tags: @twst-om-lover, @sinfulthoughtsposts
#bungou gay dogs#bungou stray dogs#aspiring writer#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#chuunai#fanfic#bungo stray dogs chuuya#chuuya#chuuya x reader#dazai x reader#soukoku x reader#cheating#bsd angst#angst#no comfort#no happy ending#ok why is my writing for Chuuya so much better than Dazai’s????#probably not that well proof read honestly
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Written for the @steddiemas challenge.
King Steve
Prompt Day 12: Hallmark Movie Tropes | Word Count: 9963 | Rating: M | CW: Royal Inaccuracies | Tags: King Ralph AU, Unexpected Royalty, Platonic Stobin, Happy Ending, Steve POV
This one is also available right here on AO3.
Loosely based on the 1991 comedy King Ralph, starring John Goodman, but this time make it Steddie.
Steve shoves the key into the lock of the Wienerlicious front door, and jiggles it just so, trying to get the damned thing to open. Robin picked this place as their next place of employment, and he's pretty sure it was just to stick him in another goofy uniform so she could call him dingus more often.
Jokes on her. He looks damn good in lederhosen, way better than she does in the milkmaid getup. So, suck it, Robin.
Even if he's too old for this shit. He's nearly thirty, and they're still bouncing from crappy job to crappy job, aimless.
He needs a purpose, but he just hasn't found it. Not yet.
He flips on the lights, and goes through all the opening procedures on his own. Robin won't be in until later, so he's gonna be on his own through the lunch rush. If there is a lunch rush. Sometimes, that's non-existent in this place.
And it seems like today is gonna be one of those days. He hasn't had a customer in an hour, and he's bored out of his goddamn skull. Just watching the hot dogs turn on the roller grill behind him.
Finally, the door swings open, and in walks three stuffy-looking men in suits. Glancing around the place like they're walking in front of a firing squad instead of into a fast food joint.
"Welcome to Wienerlicious," Steve greets.
"We're looking for Mr. Steven Harrington," the first one says in a British accent, and Steve narrows his eyes. He doesn't think he owes money to anyone. Especially not to anyone British. Robin and him might be scraping by, but they've managed to do it all on their own.
"Who's asking?" Steve asks, putting his hands on his hips.
"I'm Gareth Jones and this is Inspector Goodwin and Inspector Williams," the first man says, like that means anything.
Steve doesn't think he's committed a crime, Pink Panther style, but maybe? He wishes he'd stolen some cash or jewels, but he hasn't, so he's not sure why they've sent two inspectors all the way to the Wienerlicious to talk to him.
"And you're here for…" Steve trails off, moving his hand in a hurry up and spit it out motion. He'd rather get this over with.
"Well, sir, that's a private matter for us to discuss with Mr. Harrington," Inspector Goodwin chimes in, and they are definitely British.
"Then, I guess you're shit outta luck," Steve says, moving back to wiping down the counter. "If you decide you want to order something, you let me know."
He watches them look between each other, clearly debating this offer. But they step up to the counter and study the menu, with a hint of disdain, before ordering three number seven combos. Steve makes them, and puts down the red baskets on a tray. Taking their money, and handing over their change.
They're staring at his name tag. Fuck. He forgot he was wearing it.
"Are you Steven Harrington?" Gareth asks, leaning closer, nearly across the counter.
"And if I am?" Steve asks, taking a step back.
"Then we have an exciting opportunity to share with you," Inspector Williams says, gleefully.
"Listen, I'm not gonna, like, sell Amway or knives or anything. So, just. No, thanks."
They look back and forth, like they don't understand what he's talking about.
Steve sighs, "I have a job. I don't want another, no matter how much money you think I'll be able to make, so thanks. But, no thanks."
Because, yeah, he's in lederhosen, but he's working with Robin and he gets a predictable paycheck. It's a fair trade-off.
"Sir, please, just give us a moment of your time," Gareth pleads, and Steve is annoyed.
"Just arrest me if that's what you're here for," Steve says, nodding towards the two inspectors. Robin will sort it out.
"Oh, no, sir. Not at all. They're here for your protection, for your safety," Gareth says, and Steve wrinkles his forehead at that idea. He's pretty sure he doesn't need protection. "Please, just hear me out, sir."
"Fine, one minute," Steve says, following them to a table, and sitting down, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Mr. Harrington-"
"Steve," Steve interrupts.
"Steve," Gareth, the chatty one, says, but it seems physically painful for him to get out of his mouth, "it is my glorious duty to inform you that you're the new King of the United Kingdom, Your Majesty."
"The new King of what now?" Steve asks, because he's been King before. Sure, it was Hawkins High and not the United Kingdom, but he'll pass. He's grown and shit since then.
"Of the United Kingdom, and the entire Commonwealth, Your Majesty."
Steve laughs, because why wouldn't he laugh. That's ridiculous.
Then he remembers seeing the news headline that the entire Royal Family had been electrocuted and killed during a holiday photo session, and that they were searching their records for the next heir in line for the throne.
Steve bets they didn't expect to find him in lederhosen, slinging wieners with sauerkraut.
"But I'm an American," Steve finally says, shaking his head.
"We are unfortunately aware, sir," Gareth answers.
"Then, how am I the next in line? That makes no sense." Steve questions, he's never even been to England.
"On your mother's side. There's no delicate way to say this, but your grandmother had an affair with Prince Richard, and your mother was the product of that affair. So, you're in the line of succession for the throne through the House of Wyndam-Pryce bloodline."
"Okay, go talk to my mother then," Steve says, "she'd love to be a Queen."
"It doesn't work quite like that. See, there's what we call male-preference primogeniture-"
"Well, that's just sexist," Steve says, crossing his arms. He doesn't know what that last word means, but he definitely understands male-preference and can fill in the blanks.
"Yes, well, perhaps that's true," Gareth says, looking flustered, then looking excited, "but you could press to change that! As King. With the help of Parliament. You could work to change it."
"Now, Jones," Inspector Williams says, "you know the law prohibits Monarchs from solving problems."
"Yes, well," Gareth says, backing down a little, "that's a different issue altogether."
"This all seems suspect," Steve says. He wishes Robin were here. She'd know what to ask, what to say to all this. "If I'm not solving world problems, which to be honest, I'm not sure I'd be all that great at anyway, what exactly does this even entail? Is it not like being the President here?"
"No, that's more like the Prime Minister," Inspector Goodwin answers, "not exactly, but closer. You, as King, would be a ceremonial figurehead."
Steve is confused, but that's not exactly new.
"I don't understand," Steve says, because he definitely doesn't.
"You are the new King. It's your birthright, sir."
Steve is pretty sure he's not interested in any birthrights. He's seen Buffy. Kristy Swanson was hot, but he doesn't want any of that shit for himself. No fucking way.
Unless.
"How much does it pay?" Steve asks.
"Well, it doesn't, exactly…" Gareth trails off.
"Then, again. No," Steve says, moving to stand.
"But as the sovereign, it all belongs to you. To the Crown," Gareth says, and Steve starts picturing that and now it doesn't sound so bad at all.
"All of it?"
"All of it, Your Majesty," Gareth confirms.
"So, are you willing to go with us, Your Majesty? To England?"
And maybe he'd make a different decision if Robin were here to talk him out of it, but he nods.
"You can't go be the King," Robin says, pacing around the room, one of his shirts clutched in her hands. He jerks it out of her grasp, and stuffs it into his suitcase.
"Apparently, I can," he says, "and you can come with me."
She scoffs, "And do what? Be your lady-in-waiting?"
"Yes!" Steve says, he doesn't know what that is, but yes, if it gets her to come. Absolutely.
"Steve, no," she says, shaking her head.
"We'll get married really quick and you can be my Queen," he says, nodding his head, "think how fun that'd be? You and me? Ruling a whole country?"
"And the Commonwealth," she says, but shakes her head, snapping out of that idea. "No way, they'd make me have your babies."
"Ew," he says.
"Ew, right back at ya, dingus," she says.
"Then, I'll go first. Scope it out. And you can come later, once I'm settled in."
"This is a bad idea, Steve," Robin says, really talking with her hands.
"Careful, I'm the King," Steve teases.
"Not my King, dingus, you better keep that in mind," she says, and he smiles, pulling her to his chest.
"I wish you'd come," he says.
"I don't even have a passport," she says.
"Well, neither do I. But apparently, as the King, that doesn't really matter much."
"Oh, this isn't going to go well," she says, pacing again, worrying some more.
"Maybe not, but it'll be an adventure, right? C'mon. Come with me," he begs, trying to give her the eyes. But she's immune.
"Maybe later. If this sticks. I'll get a passport, legally, and come make fun of you in your stupid cape or whatever," she says, and he hugs her again.
A day later, Steve steps out of the black town car, and looks up. Jesus. This place is wild. Fucking crazy, it's a palace, like, for real. He still kind of assumed they'd been teasing when they showed up at his place of work, explaining that while he was once 46th in line for the throne, that he'd now been bumped up to number one. Just because the entire extended royal family died in a freak accident during a portrait session for their annual Christmas card.
That's a lot to swallow.
Do they not have a designated survivor? Robin has told him about that, in the US. They should have, it seems like. Most definitely.
Water, metal and electricity did not mix. And snap. They were all gone.
And now he's here.
King.
He's being led inside this freaking mansion, and it's way less funny. He's a freaking American. A bastard, apparently, and he shouldn't even be eligible for the throne. Robin looked it up. Made sure he knew that, as she railed on him for even considering doing this.
But they were desperate. And here he is. Steve Harrington, American. King of England. No, Great Britain? United Kingdom? The Commonwealth? He scratches his head and scrunches up his face. He doesn't remember. They went over this on the plane, but he's already forgotten. Shit.
He's just pretty sure it's not the King of England. Even if that sounds right to his American ear.
There's some old, stuffy British dudes waiting to lead him around, and he follows. But he's starting to think he can't be the King. Not again. He's pretty sure being the King of Hawkins High will be nothing in comparison to this. This is actual insanity.
Actual royalty.
They leave him in his new royal bedroom, and you could fit his and Robin's whole apartment inside this one room. He stands and looks out of the window, and feels homesick. He'd rather be in that tiny apartment with her, than here surrounded by all this opulence. He shouldn't have even agreed to get on the plane, especially not without Robin. They couldn't make him accept this offer, he's pretty sure. Even if they were pretty adamant about it, at the time. It felt like he didn't have a choice, even if he's pretty sure he did. Still does, maybe. He hasn't been, like, crowned or anything. He thinks he can still say no, and probably will.
He'd just been hand stomping lemonade and slinging hot dogs, minding his own business. He was just a little delirious and desperate for something new, anything at all.
He was bored.
And then there these stuffy dudes were, telling him he was the new King.
It all happened so fast.
He should call Robin soon, to let her know he landed. He really wants her to move here to be with him, if he decides to stay. Surely, that's something he could make happen, with all this money and all these resources.
Someone clears their throat behind him, and there's a guy, probably about his age, standing there, hands properly folded behind his back. When Steve looks at him, he bows his head at the neck.
"Hey," Steve says, turning to face him fully, "I'm Steve."
"I'm Edward, your private secretary, Your Majesty."
"What can I do for you, Eddie," Steve says, and he watches as the man cringes at the informality of it all. He just doesn't look like an Edward. He looks like an Eddie. But if he doesn't like that, Steve won't force it on him. At least not to his face. Not yet. He'll wear him down, first.
"Nothing for me, sir. What can I do for you?" Eddie asks, stepping a little further into the room.
"Edward, I think I'd just like to go to bed," Steve says, and Eddie moves towards the bed, drawing down the sheets and fluffing his pillows.
It's overkill. But nice.
"Thanks, you don't have to do that, but I appreciate it," Steve says.
"Your dressing room is over there. I'm sure there's some proper sleeping attire," Eddie suggests, pointing towards the right door. "And if you'd like a bath before bed, I can draw one for you, sir."
A bath doesn't sound half bad, but Steve is pretty sure he can run his own bathwater. He might be the King, and isn't that a stupid thought, but he hasn't forgotten how to do basic things for himself, not yet.
Eddie does it for him anyway, despite Steve's protests, and then shows him the little turtle bell on the marble ledge that he can ding if he needs assistance at any time.
"During my bath?" Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.
And Eddie nods, "Any time at all, sir."
That's weird, Steve thinks, but watches as Eddie closes the big double doors, leaving him alone with his bath. He rings the little turtle bell, and Eddie comes back through the doors.
"Your Majesty?" he asks, hands clasped in front of him.
"Are there bubbles?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks taken aback, but quickly nods and produces a bottle of fancy looking bubble bath from a cabinet.
"Thank you," Steve says, smiling, and Eddie nods at him curtly, before leaving. Again.
Steve wants to ring the turtle, just for shits and giggles, but refrains. He wants Eddie to like him. He's close to his age, and maybe they could be friends. Well, maybe not, he's stuffy like his colleagues, just not as stuffy. That's for sure. Gareth and Inspectors Goodwin and Williams aren't exactly old, but they were a little uptight.
When he's good and pruney, he gets out, and wraps a towel around his waist. When he opens the doors, Eddie is standing there, at the ready.
"You can sit down, you know?" Steve says, walking around the edge of the bed.
"I really can't, Your Majesty," Eddie says.
"Says who?" Steve hollers from the walk-in closet, where he's pulling up a pair of silk pajama bottoms. They're nice, and feel good against his skin. He likes them. He's definitely not wearing the matching long-sleeve shirt though. No way. He can't imagine how uncomfortable that'd be to sleep in.
"Royal protocol, sir."
"Aren't I in charge now? So, if I say you can sit, you can sit," Steve says, coming out of the closet, towel drying his hair.
"That's really not how it works, sir," Eddie says, looking away from him. Clearly trying to get Steve to drop it.
He will, for now. But that man is sitting before this is over with. There's no reason for him to stand around all the time. Steve's worked retail. He knows how much that sucks, and he didn't even have to do it in dress shoes.
"Did you need help finding your top, sir?" Eddie asks, and Steve realizes that's why he's being so weird. Oh.
"Do I have to wear it?" Steve asks, pulling his towel over his chest. Maybe he's being weird, or creepy, right now. Is he sexually harassing his secretary? At home this is fine, normal. It's like a locker room, right? They're in his bedroom. But maybe that's not cool here, he has no idea.
"Well, no, sir," Eddie says, "but it would be proper. But you don't have to, I suppose."
Steve tries to slide in bed without flashing his hairy chest at Eddie again, pulling the sheets up to his neck.
"There, I'm in bed," Steve says.
"Very well, sir," Eddie says, pulling the drapes closed, nodding at Steve, and hitting the lights on the way out, "Goodnight."
"'Night," Steve says back, as the door closes, and then he's gone.
And Steve's all alone.
These sheets are super soft, and so is the bed. Steve closes his eyes, and thinks he'll be asleep in no time.
He wakes up to the sun in his eyes, as Eddie is pulling open the heavy curtains.
"Good morning, Your Majesty. Did you sleep alright?" Eddie asks, bowing his head at Steve, and Steve really needs him to stop doing that. It's unnecessary. Steve sits up in bed and scrubs his hand across his face. He did sleep well.
"Yeah, I think I did, thanks," Steve says, stretching, as Eddie goes into his closet and starts selecting clothes.
"We'll have to get you fitted properly today, but these should do for now," he says, laying out a pair of slacks and a dress shirt. A belt.
"Okay," Steve answers. He can wear that. That's not so bad. "What's on today's schedule?"
And he wishes he hadn't asked, because the list Eddie rattles off is never-ending.
"All that today, huh?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods. Then steps out into the hallway so Steve can get dressed.
He stands in front of the mirror, trying to tame his hair. He shouldn't have gone to bed with it wet, now it really won't behave. He might need to wash it again. He looks around, and realizes there is no shower in his bathroom. He's gonna need a bathroom with a shower, the bath was fine, but not for everyday use.
"Edward?" Steve says, opening the door, and Eddie follows him back in.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, standing at attention.
"Is there a bathroom with a shower around here that I'll be able to use? I don't need it this morning, because of the bath, but in the future?" Steve asks, looking at Eddie.
"Yes, of course, sir," Eddie says, "I'll show you where that's at this morning."
"Thanks, also? Can I request some specific hairspray?" Steve asks.
Eddie pulls a little notepad out of his pocket, ready to take notes, "Of course, sir."
"Faberge Organics, the Farrah Fawcett spray," Steve says, and watches as Eddie takes notes. He doesn't even laugh at him. Maybe Steve should tell him it was discontinued, like, a decade ago. But it'll be funny to see how much sway this position actually holds. Maybe he'll send some staff member to find a lone can of it, long forgotten on the dusty bottom shelf of a drugstore.
"Of course, sir," Eddie says, putting the notebook back in his jacket pocket.
Steve steps out inside the hall, and isn't sure what he's supposed to do. Eddie must pick up on that because he holds his arm out, motioning for Steve to walk ahead of him.
"I thought I could give you a more in depth tour this morning, sir, if you're feeling up to that?" Eddie asks, trailing him.
Steve pauses, waiting for him to catch up. They start walking again, and Eddie's behind him again. Steve slows his pace, and Eddie slows his own. He feels like he's having to crane his neck back to even see Eddie as he explains all the rooms, all the antiques. The paintings.
That goes on for the whole tour of this floor, and then Steve waits at the top of the long, winding staircase. Eddie waits behind him.
"You do realize I don't know where we're going, right?" Steve says, holding his arm out, inviting Eddie to lead the way.
"Sir, you are the sovereign, no one walks ahead of you. Especially not your staff," Eddie says, and Steve looks at him like he's crazy, because that's a crazy rule. Steve is only King on a huge technicality. He's just a person.
But when it's clear Eddie is not moving until he does, he walks down the stairs, wishing Eddie would just fall into step beside him, at least.
And Eddie gives him the rest of the tour, from two steps over his shoulder. It's kind of weird and uncomfortable.
After the tour, he's led directly into a room to be fitted for new clothes, and Eddie stands nearby.
"We've prepared a few questions to ascertain your knowledge of English history," Eddie says, as they're measuring Steve for a new suit.
Having your inseam taken is a little distracting, even under regular circumstances. Having three different pairs of hands nudging under your balls, right after you've been declared King, is another level of distracting entirely.
"Okay," Steve says, uneasy. He knows he knows nothing about history, "but I can tell you it's almost zero, right up front."
Eddie looks at him and asks, "When Anne Boleyn failed to give him a son, Henry VIII had her…"
Steve thinks, tries to come up with a logical answer, and settles on, "Adopt?"
Eddie looks exasperated, "No. Beheaded."
"Jesus, that's a bit much," Steve mutters, and he swears he sees Eddie tamp down the barest hint of a smile.
"Please pick a fabric, sir," Goodwin says, draping some swatches over his arm and showing Steve.
They all look the same to Steve. Various shades of dark, most with pinstripes.
"You pick, Edward. I trust your judgment," Steve says, because he does. Eddie is dressed nicely, so surely he can pick the right thing for Steve to not look like he's wearing the curtains.
Eddie nods, quick and sharp, and then hands the chosen swatches over to one of the tailors. Pointing at three of them.
After his fitting, Steve is in jeans and a polo, even if Eddie fought him on it. "Here's a few traditional English dishes, sir, some of which you'll be served tonight. The kitchen chose things they thought you might enjoy, and I thought it might be prudent to make sure you're familiar ahead of time."
Steve nods. Okay. He can do food. He likes food.
"Roast beef with Yorkshire pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, and of course, spotted dick."
Steve's eyebrows shoot up as he looks at the bowl full of dicks in front of him that he had assumed were sausages.
He grabs the silver tongs, and picks one up, carefully inspecting it like it might be a bomb, before looking at Eddie.
"Dick of what?" he asks, scared of the answer.
Eddie chuckles, "You're holding a banger. A sausage," he clarifies, pointing to some other dish, "that's the spotted dick, sir. It's a dessert."
Steve looks and can see the raisins. The spots of the spotted name, he assumes. That's more reassuring.
"Please, sir, try it," Eddie says, so Steve lets him serve him a plate, so he can try everything so there's not an embarrassing incident at tonight's dinner.
"Sit, eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie shakes his head.
"No, sir," Eddie says.
"Edward, live a little," Steve coaxes, kicking out a chair leg, an invitation, but Eddie doesn't budge. Just stands at attention, a few feet behind Steve while he eats. It's good. He likes it. Even the spotted dick, which he can't even think about without laughing. How is he going to be able to eat it, or say it, in a public setting? Impossible.
"This is all good, I was scared what you might bring me, to be real honest," Steve says.
Eddie smiles, "Well, we went easy on you. I didn't think you were ready for the black pudding or haggis."
"I don't know what that is," Steve admits.
"For the best," Eddie teases, and Steve smiles at him.
"Tell me about yourself, Edward," Steve says, using his fork and knife to cut into one of the bangers.
"I'm here to serve you, sir," Eddie says, and Steve looks back over his shoulder at him and rolls his eyes.
"No, about you. Not about me in relation to you, just about you."
"Sir, I don't really…" Eddie trails off, like he doesn't know what to say.
Steve won't make him talk, but he sure wishes he would. He'd like to get to know him better.
"If you won't sit, would you at least come over here where I can see you?" Steve asks, and he's happy when Eddie concedes, and comes into his line of sight.
"How long have you worked at the palace?" Steve asks.
"Nearly ten years, sir. I've been a secretary for about two years, though. After my uncle retired, I was chosen to fill his duties."
Steve nods, hoping Eddie will continue and elaborate further. He doesn't.
So, Steve eats while Eddie stands by, quietly.
And it's weeks of meetings, fittings, lessons. Eddie and the rest of the staff are working diligently to get him ready to face the press and public.
Steve's trying. He really is, but it's a lot to comprehend. He doesn't understand all the rules, all the protocols, and he is constantly on the wrong foot. Doing something stupid, saying something stupid. He's never gonna catch on to this.
He flops back on his bed. He's going to make a fool of himself, and the Crown.
Eddie comes in later, and takes one look at him, and starts digging in Steve's walk-in closet. He comes out with an all-white outfit and instructs Steve to put it on.
Steve does. He's stopped fighting. Stopped asking why, a long time ago. It doesn't matter why, none of them care. He's just a small cog, in a big wheel. He's in charge, but he isn't. Not at all. None of his choices are his own. He's not sitting on a throne barking orders. He's following, trying to please the people around him. Trying to please Eddie.
Once he's dressed, Eddie takes him out to the yard of the palace, and gets down and straps big pads to his shins. They look like oversized, shin guards for baseball catchers. But padded. He was a catcher for one season in high school and hated it. It's the hardest job on the field, he's pretty sure. Pitching was easier. He did that in little league for a while.
He's standing there in his padded shin guards, looking at Eddie for guidance. Eddie hands him a paddle. Steve tries to hold it like a baseball bat, and Eddie laughs, while trying to help him correct his grip.
"This is a cricket bat, not a baseball bat, sir," Eddie says with a smile.
"Oh, so more like croquet?" Steve says, lowering the bat in front of him, and Eddie grins.
"You know how to play croquet?" Eddie asks, looking surprised.
"Sure," Steve says, "I might not be royalty, but I do come from a rich family. Back home. We definitely played croquet from time to time."
Eddie smiles, and nods, "It's not like croquet. You want to keep the ball away from your wicket, not aim it towards it," Eddie explains, helping him adjust his grip, again. His instinct is still to draw it up like a bat, twirl it around in his hand. Test its heft. But Eddie tells him to keep it down, in front of him, to protect his wicket, the three stumps and two bails balanced behind him.
Once Steve is in place, Eddie yells, "Bowler!"
And the guy downfield throws the ball at him in a goofy fashion, bouncing it in front of him, and Steve hits it. And it sails up and away. They do it over and over. This is something he's actually picked up on quickly for once, and it's fun. Steve hits the shit out of the next one, and declares it a home run.
Eddie laughs, "A maximum, sir, but yes, the same idea, I suppose. Six runs."
If it bounces to the boundary, it's worth four Eddie declares, and eventually Eddie goes to the other side of the little dirt rectangle, and they teach Steve how to run back and forth to accumulate runs that way, if he doesn't hit it out of the park.
"You can lead with your bat, sir, get it over the crease ahead of you," Eddie says.
"The line? The baseline?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.
"Yes, sir, that," Eddie grins.
And he runs past Eddie once more, passing in the middle, and he reaches up as they go past each other, offering him his hand, a high five.
Eddie clearly isn't sure about this, but still puts his hand up, and they touch as they run by each other, each headed to the opposite end from where they started.
When they've finished, Steve leans over, his hands on his knees, breathing hard. But he's happy right now.
Once he stands, he looks at Eddie, smiling, and asks, "Do you want to play croquet next?"
And Eddie laughs, honest to god laughs, and it makes Steve smile, big and bright. It's a great sound, and he hopes to hear it more often.
"Sure, Your Majesty, we can play croquet," Eddie says, and sends the pages to go find the equipment.
Pads shucked to the side in the grass, Steve watches as Eddie lines up his shot.
"Don't do it, don't even think about it," Steve says, breathing down Eddie's neck, taunting him as he tries to line up his mallet with the croquet ball.
Eddie laughs, and nudges him backwards with his elbow, and then freezes, like he's realized what he's done. Steve just shoves him back a little, hopefully assuring him that it's fine, that he likes this. That this feels normal, at least almost, and that's fucking priceless. To his sanity, to his heart.
He's homesick for Robin, for America, honestly.
He wants to watch baseball or basketball on TV. He wants to drive his car. He wants a pizza, a burger, or some fried chicken. Anything. He can ask for anything he'd like to eat, and they'll bring it, but it's always a fancy version. They seem to have an aversion to actually just going out and getting him the junk food he's missing.
This has been a huge responsibility to take on, one he doesn't fully understand, with a very steep learning curve. But right now, they are just two guys playing a sport together, for fun.
That he understands, fully.
"This is the most fun I've had since I've gotten here," Steve says, standing next to Eddie as he whacks the ball through the hoop.
"I'm glad to hear that, sir."
Once the game is over, Steve stands there in the grass, happy. He looks at Eddie, "What sport can you teach me next?"
Eddie just laughs, "Polo, I suppose. How do you feel about horses?"
And then it's back to the unfun parts. Steve showers, and throws on the clothes Eddie has laid out for him. And he attends meetings. He has his weekly Audience with the Prime Minister, one-on-one, without Eddie present. They always make him feel nervous that he's going to fuck up.
But it's only twenty minutes. He can do anything for twenty minutes.
Eddie works sports into his tight schedule, and Steve appreciates it. It's not everyday, but it's as often as they can fit it in, and they play and Steve pushes himself. To get better. To have fun.
To impress Eddie, a little, with the one thing he's been good at here.
Steve's having a bad day, and he's had enough, so he pulls a baseball hat over his head, and walks out of the front door. Nobody stops him, but he's pretty sure that's just because they've never had to deal with a Monarch that was trying to escape the way he is. But he's had all of this he can take today.
He doesn't get far down the road, before he realizes he is being followed. He turns and looks, and there's Eddie. So, Steve slows down, stalls, waiting for him to catch up.
"You coming with me, or are you going back to tattle?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles.
"Where are we going, Your Majesty?" Eddie asks, falling in step behind him.
"I'm hungry. I want some food, some American food. Something I'm familiar with. No spotted dick, or whatever the fuck that was. Is there something around here that I'll recognize?" Steve asks, and Eddie nods, and then he waits for Steve to start walking again, keeping two paces behind him.
Steve glances back at him, "How did you end up working for the royal family?"
"My family. It's just what we've always done," Eddie says. "My uncle had this position before I did. When he retired, the last King asked for me to step in, to keep with some sort of continuity, I suppose. He'd known me for a long time, since my childhood."
"I'm sorry you lost your friend," Steve says.
Eddie pauses, like nobody has ever said that to him before, "Thank you, sir."
Steve nods, "Well, what would you like to do instead?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him, like he hadn't expected the question.
"Working for the royal family is the highest honor," Eddie says, and Steve laughs.
"Okay, that's bullshit. You don't want to serve people. You don't want to serve me. That's not your dream. What do you want to do? What would make you happy?" Steve presses.
Eddie looks at him, like this might be a trap, even if it really isn't. Steve genuinely wants to know what Eddie likes to do. He wants to know anything Eddie will tell him. Which really, really hasn't been much. He's definitely not very forthcoming about anything personal.
"I like to play music," Eddie finally says.
"That's cool," Steve says, meaning it, "are you any good?"
"Not bad, I don't think. I play with my friends in a little four piece, when I have the time. The palace requires a lot of my time," Eddie says, and then looks embarrassed. "Not that I'm complaining. I'm happy to be at your service, sir."
"Steve," Steve says, "please, just call me Steve."
"King Steve," Eddie says, and smiles at him, just a little. Steve realizes Eddie's teasing him, and it makes Steve happy. Like they might be friends. Or could be, in time. He definitely needs a friend here.
"Well, that's not the first time I've been called that, so it's an improvement. For sure. But try to work it down to just Steve, in the future. At least while we're alone."
Eddie nods, but he doesn't look like that's going to be something he'll ever do.
They walk a little further, and Eddie stops in front of a Kentucky Fried Chicken. Perfect.
Eddie ushers him inside, and into a hidden corner booth, before going up to order. When he comes back, he gently puts down the tray, and acts like he's going to start setting everything up, like this is a state dinner. It's definitely not.
"Just sit. Eat with me," Steve says, and Eddie looks uncomfortable.
"That's really not…"
"Does it look like I care, Eddie? Please?" Steve asks, and he pushes a styrofoam plate in his direction, and starts loading it up.
"Are you a breast, leg or thigh man?" Steve asks, and Eddie blushes a pretty pink.
Steve's pretty sure he's not a breast man, and that's more than okay with him. Maybe he can use that in his favor, someday, hopefully.
"Anything is fine, si-"
"Steve," Steve corrects.
"Steve," Eddie whispers, like he might be caught and reprimanded.
Steve smiles, and puts a couple different pieces on Eddie's plate, then some mashed potatoes. Gravy. A couple biscuits, and looks at Eddie as he pushes it his way.
Eddie is just looking down at it.
Steve reaches down and picks up his thigh with his hands, and takes a bite.
"Finger lickin' good," he says, and Eddie giggles, as he picks up a piece himself, and takes a bite. It looks awkward, and a little dainty, but it thrills Steve that he's playing along. Getting a little more comfortable with him.
He wants to get to know him, Eddie, the man under the suit. Maybe the man, out of the suit.
On the walk back, Steve looks back at Eddie.
"Eddie?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at him.
"Yes?"
"Was there really nobody else? Is it me…or nothing?" Steve asks, because he's pretty sure he can't do this. Doesn't want to. At least not long-term. Not for his entire life. He's given it a good go, but he's not feeling it, at all.
"Well," Eddie says, drawing out the word, seemingly unsure if he should keep talking.
"Well, what?" Steve asks, pausing, and pulling Eddie off the sidewalk and into a little hedgerow. They stand there looking at each other.
"There was one other option, but he didn't want to do it, so I kept my mouth shut," Eddie says, looking at the ground.
"So, that guy could say no, but I'm just the schmuck who had to accept this thing? This weight on my shoulders?" Steve asks.
"I didn't know you then. You were just a name, a profile, on paper," Eddie explains, still looking down.
"And you knew the other guy?"
Eddie nods.
"Who is it? Do I know him?"
Eddie looks up, quietly asking Steve if he'll keep this secret, and Steve reluctantly nods.
"My Uncle Wayne," Eddie says, "he's retired, and already he did his duty to the Crown, and didn't want that kind of spotlight trained on him. He just wanted to go on, living his normal life. He didn't ask for it any more than you did."
Steve nods, he understands, even if it doesn't make him feel much better.
"Oh," Steve says, "I understand. I just wish, well, that I'd have been given more of a choice, too. If I said no, they'd have found him, eventually, right?"
Eddie nods, "I'm sorry, sir."
Steve gets it. Unless he wants to make that old, retired man sit on the throne, he's stuck.
"It's okay, Eddie. But I feel alone here, most of the time, so I'd like Robin to move here. Can that happen?"
Eddie shakes his head, looking sad.
"Sir, they're never going to allow you to marry your American girlfriend. It's been a hard enough sell for you."
Steve laughs, pushing his bangs back off of his forehead, "Girlfriend? No way. She's my best friend. Platonic with a capital P, only."
"Oh, well, then, yes. I'm sure we could arrange for that to happen, assuming she'd like to come."
Steve grins, wide. That's the best news he's gotten in weeks.
They start walking again, "Do you live at the palace?" Steve asks.
Eddie chuckles, and shakes his head, "No, sir, I don't live at the palace. It just seems like it."
He's teasing, and it makes Steve smile.
"Where do you live, then?" Steve asks.
"Right around the corner, actually," Eddie says, and Steve stops walking.
"Can we go see it?" Steve asks.
"You want to go to my flat, sir?" Eddie questions.
Steve realizes that was probably rude to invite himself over, "Only if you want me to. You're not obligated, of course."
"I didn't think I was obligated, Steve," Eddie says, "but it might not exactly be tidy. I wasn't expecting a royal to want to visit me at home."
"Do I look like I'm gonna care about that?" Steve asks, and Eddie smiles, and redirects them, but still keeps just behind his shoulder.
Eddie's apartment is nice, and not as messy as he'd sold it as. Steve looks around, at the pictures on the walls. At his guitar on a stand by the couch. Eddie is digging in the fridge and brings him a beer, which Steve takes with enthusiasm. He's been offered wine, and liquor, at the palace, but this is just a regular beer. That he'll be allowed to drink out of the bottle, no glass in sight.
It feels like home, and he twists off the cap, sliding it into his shirt pocket.
Eddie sits next to him on the couch, and they drink, and just make small talk. It feels normal. Cozy. Like he's in someone's home, instead of a museum, and he longs for a place like this to call his own again. He took it for granted back home, and now he misses those days. Misses Robin.
They don't stay long, and just walk back to the palace after they've finished their beers, but it's the best night Steve's had since he's gotten to this country.
"I can't move to London," Robin says across the ocean through the phone, and Steve slumps at his desk.
"But, I miss you," Steve says, twisting the cord around his fingers.
"Well, you should have thought of that before you packed your shit and ran away to play King," Robin snarks.
She's teasing, but it's true.
"Will you at least come to visit?" he asks, hoping. Begging.
"Of course," she says, "if you're paying."
"I'm paying. I'm the King, you know. Just be aware you'll have to curtsy to me," he teases.
"Yeah, never gonna happen, dingus."
But she agrees, so he puts Eddie on the case to set it all up through his office.
"I want to go to the movies," Steve declares suddenly, and Eddie looks over at him. They're sitting across from each other at a desk, as Steve's going over paperwork from his red box. Signing what he needs to sign, asking Eddie about what he still doesn't understand.
"The movies?" Eddie questions.
"Yeah, you know, a movie theater?"
"I'll see what I can do, sir," Eddie says, with a smile.
That night, Eddie guides him to a secluded room. And it's a private theater. Right in the palace.
"This has been here all along?" Steve asks.
"Well, yes, sir, but it's really for the staff. But I cleared it tonight, for you."
Steve doesn't even care what they watch, he just wants to have some fun.
"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, settling into one of the chairs. Patting the one beside him for Eddie to sit, and after Eddie's collected a bucket of already prepared popcorn from a table, he does sit, and hands it over to Steve.
They sit side-by-side, watching a movie, sharing the bucket of popcorn, and it feels normal for a couple hours. He could have been on a date, a regular date back home, tonight.
But it's Eddie, and he can't kiss him at the end of the night, even if he'd like to. This gift from him was more than enough.
Eddie follows him back to his bedroom, and turns down the bed, and Steve stands there, watching him.
"Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I had a lot of fun," Steve says.
"Me too, sir," Eddie answers, "goodnight."
Steve is standing out on the step, bouncing on his feet, nervous. Excited. Robin is on the way, and when they finally pull up with her, she leaps out of the car and runs straight into his arms. Not a curtsy in sight. He catches her and spins her, hugging her tight. He didn't realize it until this very moment, that one of the things he's been missing the most is human touch. None of these people touch him. No friendly hands on a shoulder, or arm.
No reassurance. No checking on his emotional needs. No comforting him. No checking in, at all. He's just supposed to function, as is, all on his own, he supposes.
He's been needing a hug, he realizes, and he buries his face in her neck, and if it's weird, she's going with it.
"I'm so glad you're here. Welcome to my new home," he says, and she grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him into the palace and up the staircase, at a near run. Dodging staffers, who bow to him as he is dragged past them. They clearly disapprove, but he doesn't give a shit. This is the most normal thing he's experienced in weeks.
She pauses at the top of the staircase, but only because she doesn't know where she's going.
He nods to the left, and he's being pulled along again, giving her directions to his bedroom, and once they're inside, she launches herself onto his bed, bouncing.
He smiles, and hops up next to her.
"Holy shit, Steve, look at this place!" she shouts, eyes wide as she looks around.
"I know, right?" he asks, but he's only looking at her. She's the only thing in this whole room that he cares about, that he loves.
That night he wraps his arm over her side, crowding up behind her, and she lets him hold her, "I'm so happy to see you."
"You better not be that kind of happy to see me," she says, contorting to get away from his crotch.
He laughs, laying his head on his pillow, "I'll try to keep it in check."
"You better, dingus."
And dingus sounds like a better, more fitting, title than King ever has, a thousand times over.
He wants to be her dingus, he doesn't want to be the King.
Steve is startled awake in the morning, by Eddie at the foot of his bed.
"Oh, Your Majesty, I do apologize," Eddie says, starting to back away from the bed, "I didn't realize you had company."
Robin looks at him, giving him the once over, "Well, not that kind of company, Jeeves. Let's get that straight."
Steve laughs, and nods, "Definitely not that kind of company, Eddie."
"We're best friends," Robin says.
"Platonic with a capital P," Eddie repeats, "as Your Majesty has said."
"Your Majesty," Robin says with a cackle, rolling towards him, and he slaps her on the arm, and it just makes her laugh harder. "King Dingus."
"He hasn't picked a regnal name yet, so perhaps that could be an option?" Eddie says, and Steve can't believe it. It's the funniest thing Eddie's ever said in Steve's presence, by far.
Steve laughs, throwing his head back, melting into the bed again.
Eddie just looks confused, and a little alarmed. But he still draws back the curtains, and brings Steve and Robin in a wheeled cart full of breakfast and coffee.
"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says.
"Sir, madam," Eddie says, and he bows his head at the neck, and then he's gone.
As soon as the door closes, Robin slugs Steve in the arm, "You have a crush on Jeeves!"
Steve doesn't even try to deny it, just smiles, "Yeah, that's Eddie."
Robin stays two weeks, and then she goes back home to their real life. And Steve's agitated. He misses her. He should have gone home with her.
Eddie comes in carrying a large, heavy by the look of it, cardboard box. Great, now what?
"What's that?" Steve asks, standing to go take a look as Eddie places it down on the table.
"Your hairspray, Your Majesty," Eddie says, opening the flaps, "I'm sorry it took so long. I had to convince Unilever to engage in a short, private production run, just for you, sir."
"No fucking way," Steve says, reaching in to pick up a can, and it's really it.
He grabs Eddie and hugs him, shaking him around, and Eddie is just a ragdoll in his arms, but Steve could kiss him, he's so happy.
"Thank you, Eddie, you're now my favorite person. Robin, who?" he teases, immediately taking a can to the bathroom.
Eddie follows, and watches him as he sprays it on his hair and tries to style it, even though it's not wet.
"Just wait until tomorrow, I'll look so damn good," Steve says, and he meets Eddie's eyes in the mirror, and Eddie's blushing.
"I'm sure you will, sir," Eddie says, and Steve can feel it between them. The sexual tension. The attraction. He's not sure how to do anything about it, if he even can.
But he wants to, and it's nice to have that feeling again. About anyone. And he's happy it's Eddie that's making him feel like this, because he really likes him a lot.
"Can we go swimming today?" Steve asks, and Eddie looks at the schedule, and nods.
"I think we can fit that in this evening, if you'd like, sir," Eddie answers.
"Yes, please," Steve says.
That evening, they walk down to the private pool and Eddie stands there while Steve strips off his shirt.
"Aren't you coming in?" Steve asks. He's assumed Eddie would. It's a sport, and that's one of the few things they do together, as almost equals.
"Sir?" Eddie questions.
"C'mon, get in!" Steve shouts, laughing, splashing water towards Eddie, which Eddie dodges easily. But Eddie nods. Disappearing into one of the locker rooms.
Steve's taking bets with himself, if Eddie will be in one of those silly old-fashioned, striped swim costumes with shoulder straps when he comes back.
He's not.
He's just wearing a pair of basic black trunks, and Steve can't help it as his eyes rake over Eddie's pale, exposed skin.
Steve's not sure he's even seen Eddie's forearms, let alone is his bare chest. He has a tattoo. More than one, it looks like, and Steve grins. Fully enjoying the view. Maybe he's not as buttoned-up as he appears on the surface.
Eddie comes down the steps and pushes off, and swims towards Steve.
"What now, sir?" Eddie asks, treading water.
"I was thinking about laps, but anything would be good with me," Steve says. As long as he's with Eddie, he's in.
And they fall into lane lines, and Steve breathes to his left so he can see Eddie, and for once, they are side-by-side, equals. They both do a flip-turn and push off, resurfacing together. Steve smiles, and keeps kicking.
He feels normal, here, now. Swimming. His teammate beside him. And Eddie is his teammate, maybe the only one he has in this place. He's surrounded by people, but he feels like Eddie is the only one that ever actually sees him.
And he's happy as they swim, together, until they are both struggling to breathe, clinging to the side of the pool. Steve rests his head on his arms, and feels good. Really, really good.
His happiness doesn't last long.
The next morning, Gareth comes into his office, with four or five other staffers trailing behind him.
"Your Majesty, we'd like to discuss taking the first steps towards the wedding," Gareth says.
"Whose wedding?" Steve asks.
"Yours, sir," Gareth says, and Steve sees red. He knew they were scheming to set him up on dates with various available women, but this is too far. He'll be the King, but marrying a stranger isn't happening.
"I'm not getting married!" Steve snaps as he storms out, turning to hold his hand up, giving the universal motion to stop, demanding that they not follow.
Steve only wants to find Eddie.
Eddie is walking down the hallway, and Steve accosts him.
"This is too far, you can't tell me who to marry, Eddie!" Steve yells, and Eddie quickly grabs him by the arm, and pulls him into Steve's bedroom, and shuts the door behind them. Locking them inside.
"Your Majesty, please, it's for the good of the country. To protect your bloodline, your birthright. You're the last. You need to marry, and produce heirs. That's just how it's done."
"I'm not the last and you know it!" Steve screams.
"Please," Eddie says softly, like he's trying to tame Steve, "please consider doing this. It's the right thing to do."
Steve crosses his arms across his chest, "Absolutely not."
"Sir, please," Eddie says.
"Stop calling me sir, if you're gonna fuck me over, at least use my name, for god's sake."
"Steve," Eddie says, "we aren't doing this to hurt you."
"Well, it sure feels like you are. What about love? What about who I love?" Steve asks, his voice softer.
"Love must be subordinated for the good of the monarchy, Steve," Eddie says, his voice softer now, too.
Eddie has called him Steve, here, and Steve can't even be happy about it.
"No. No way. No, no, no."
"Princess Caroline is a perfectly acceptable choice. You need to do this."
"You're serious?" Steve snaps.
"Yes!" Eddie snaps back.
"I won't, I'm not marrying someone I don't love!" Steve assures loudly, and he means that. They can't make him. "This place is terrible, this job, it's bullshit! It's all bullshit! I'd rather be selling hot dogs, or ice cream, than to be locked up here in this gilded cage! At least at home my choices were my own and I could fuck up my life any damn way I saw fit!" Steve screams.
"Steve," Eddie says, scrubbing his hands over his face and Steve's never seen him this undone, "Why? Why are you fighting this? This is just how things are done."
"You know why," Steve says, crossing the room and closing the space between them.
"I don't…that's not…" Eddie mutters, looking anywhere but at Steve.
"Eddie," Steve says, taking him by the shoulders, "look at me."
Eddie does, reluctantly.
"I can't marry Princess Caroline, because I love you."
Eddie's face falls, like he's just been given terrible news, and Steve's stomach drops. He's miscalculated this, all of this, and immediately lets go of him. They haven't been flirting, they haven't been anything to each other. Steve has misinterpreted their whole thing.
He feels sick.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Steve says, taking a step back, "I shouldn't have said that to you. Please, don't-"
But his words are cut off, when Eddie is suddenly moving towards him, and finally, finally presses his lips to Steve's.
Steve reaches his hand up, and cups the back of Eddie's head. It's better than he'd even fantasized about. He kisses him, over and over, holding him. Finally touching him in all the ways he's longed to, for months.
"Eddie," Steve breathes out, once they've separated, and Eddie just smiles at him and takes him by the hand, leading him towards the truly outlandish bed. He hadn't dreamed this is where the day would end up, even if he'd dared to hope.
Eddie pushes Steve onto his back on the bed, and the dynamic has shifted in a way that Steve loves. Yes, please. More of this. He watches as Eddie pulls off his jacket, his tie, and unbuttons his dress shirt.
It's the best strip tease Steve's witnessed in his whole life.
And when Eddie crawls on top of him, in just his underwear, Steve laughs and wraps his arms around Eddie, pulling him close. Pressing kisses to his shoulder, his chest, anywhere he can reach.
After, Steve brushes his hand through Eddie's hair, holding him, as they lay together. Eddie's legs are tangled with his, and they're comfortable here, together.
"I need to quit," Steve says, softly.
"I know you do," Eddie answers, pressing his lips to Steve's chest.
"Will your uncle take over? If I do?" Steve asks.
"I'll talk to him," Eddie assures.
"Will you go with me when I leave? Or will you need to stay with him?" Steve asks.
"At first, I'll feel I'm obligated to stay," Eddie says, "he's my uncle. He raised me. But after he gets settled, perhaps."
Perhaps isn't a no, so Steve takes that as good news, and just pulls him closer while he has the chance.
"Maybe, you'd like to settle in with me here at my flat, for a stretch. Before you go home," Eddie suggests and Steve nods. Absolutely. Yes, to that. Please.
Eddie and his speechwriters help him perfect his abdication speech, and write his Instrument of Abdication letter. Wayne Munson, at his side. Stoic and quiet, but willing now, to accept this responsibility.
Steve signs it, and Eddie, Gareth, Goodwin and Williams all sign as witnesses to his signature.
And it's done, basically.
"You boys do realize I have no children, so this might come right back to you, after I'm gone," Wayne says softly.
And Steve and Eddie both nod. They know. But they appreciate this time Wayne's given them, to live and love. It's a gift, because he loves Eddie and wants him to be happy. Steve knows that, and he won't take it for granted. Not ever.
In a few days time, he's standing before Parliament, something he's never had to do, before now.
"My Lords and Members of the House of Commons, I know it is unusual for a King to address you in this manner, but I have some things I'd like to say, that I'd like for you to hear them in person, from me," he starts, before going on to apologize for being too set in his ways, too American for this duty. But he explains that there is another heir, an English one, also born into the House of Wyndam-Pryce. He tells them that it was discovered after Steve had assumed the throne, but now that he knows, he feels it only right to step down. He introduces Wayne, and turns over the Crown, happily.
As soon as he steps back from the podium, he feels like the weight of the world has left his shoulders. He walks out into the sunshine and smiles, closing his eyes, tilting his head towards the sky.
He's a free man, once again.
Eddie is waiting, and takes his hand, and finally, for once, Eddie steps out ahead of him, leading the way.
There are lots of people standing around watching him pack, and Steve looks around, "Are they scared I'm going to steal something?"
Eddie laughs, "Well, maybe. You can't take anything that belongs to the Crown."
"I only want to take one thing with me," Steve says, smiling.
Eddie grins, lowering his voice, "Me?"
"Okay, well, two things," Steve teases, and Eddie cocks his head, curious.
Steve walks down the staircase, carrying the giant cardboard box of hairspray. Eddie holds the door open for him, and then helps him put it in the trunk. Technically, it belongs to the Crown, but Steve is sure they'll never miss it. If Wayne wants him beheaded for taking it, bring it on. The man hardly has any hair at all left, so he definitely doesn't have a pressing need for hairspray.
"So, how was it to be King?" Eddie asks, settling into the back of the town car beside him.
"Well, I met you and I got a lifetime supply of my favorite hairspray, so pretty good, overall," Steve teases, and reaches over and takes Eddie's hand, looking at the window as the palace grows smaller in the distance behind them.
He's not the King, not anymore.
But he's Eddie's boyfriend, his partner, and he's pretty sure that's a way more important role for him to try and fill.
Notes: This originally started for Steddie Holiday Drabbles, but the length got away from me. And then really got away from me. I couldn't condense this into 1000 words, it seems. So, I did something different for that Royalty AU and used this one here.
Royalty isn't really in my wheelhouse, but King Ralph popped into my head, and made me cackle. Sure, I'll make American Steve an unlikely King. No problem.
I'm sure Eddie had the job of about a dozen men, here. Go with it.
Also? John Goodman is a damn delight. Nobody could deliver the "dick of what?" line better than that, though I had Steve try.
Wienerlicious was from the show Chuck.
House of Wyndam-Pryce is a Buffy joke. That's Wesley's last name, and Wyndham was the fictional name in King Ralph. So it seemed fitting.
If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddiemas and follow along!
#steddiemas#hallmark movie tropes#royalty au#steddie#steddie ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#king steve#platonic stobin#stranger things fic#thisapplepielife: short fic#thisapplepielife: steddiemas
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pairing: billy butcher x reader
word count: 1166
notes: on the twelfth day of ficmas, lilacliquors gave to me ... billy butcher learning the true meaning of christmas!
and this is the final day of ficmas!! i said it the other day, but thank you so much for participating in our very successful 12 days of ficmas, and for enjoying the little one shots.
the full masterlist will be queued up for christmas day as a little gift to you, and then i'll go back to posting the stuff in my inbox / some other things in the coming days! have a happy holiday if you celebrate, and a very happy new year <3
if anyone was a pre-roast beast carving grinch, it was billy butcher. he was never one to get into the holiday spirit, claiming he had nothing to celebrate. nothing you did could help change his mind, he was so set in his ways. you, on the other hand, loved the holidays. they filled you with a kind of joy that only came around once a year. it had always been a big holiday with your family, and you carried on a lot of the traditions you all had.
you had your three types of cookies to bake: almond crescent, peppermint pinwheels, and gingerbread men. you started playing christmas music on black friday, queueing up your favorites right away and changing the radio station on the weekends to the one you knew would be playing nonstop holiday tunes. you had your whole apartment decorated just days after thanksgiving, and it looked perfect every time. so perfect, in fact, that billy couldn’t help but be in awe when he came by to visit you.
he knew you loved the holidays, he just couldn’t understand why. to him, it was just any other time of year, just much colder and far more annoying when you had random people ringing bells and collecting for sham charities. it was a load of bullshit to him, but rather than dim your light, he kept his mouth shut when he was with you. today was going to be a little harder, though, because he was joining you on a little shopping trip.
“why are we doing this again?” he asked, watching as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.
“because i picked a few names from an angel tree, and we’re going to give those kids a merry christmas. come on, this is the fun part,” you said.
“angel tree? the fuck is that?” he held the door open for you, and you both ventured out into the cold.
“okay, so, it’s a tree that has the names, ages, and christmas wishes of children from families that might not have the means to celebrate christmas. so, you pick a name, or a few, from the tree, and you fulfill their christmas wish! i think it’s a really great cause, i do it every year,” you explained, walking beside him down the sidewalk. billy said nothing, but just simply shrugged his shoulders. sounded like a load of shit to him, but you were excited for it, so what was the harm in humoring you?
you made it to the department store, and once inside, you pulled out the tags of the children whose names you picked. to billy’s surprise, you had around five tags in your hands, and he guided you to the side as you read them out.
“okay, i picked ones who asked for clothes, but not as many toys. they’ve got the sizes listed, so this will be a piece of cake. come on!” you tucked the tags away, took billy’s hand, and started making your way to the children’s section of the floor.
“i thought kids wanted all them fuckin’ noisy pieces of junk. why’d you pick clothes?” he asked, watching as you thumbed through the wracks of clothes.
“clothes tend to be more expensive, and not as many people feel inclined to pick them. they think toys are easier, and that all kids want toys, no matter what. but sometimes, all these boys and girls want is a new winter coat, since theirs is two sizes two small. or warm pajamas, or new sneakers because their feet are too big. they don’t ask for much, they know they can’t. so why deny them this in favor of some plastic?”
billy fell silent as he watched you hold up a coat. it was purple with a soft lavender lining, a hood on the back, and pockets that zipped shut. it looked warm, cozy, perfect for a little girl. you set it over your arm and went back to looking, and billy held out his hand.
“here, let me hold the tags. i’ll read them out to you,” he said, and you smiled.
“thanks. here you go.” you handed him the tags, and he read them over himself. just like you had described, four out of the five asked for winter jackets. one asked for a sweater, another for new winter boots. he glanced up at you, and you now had a few more coats in your arms, and you looked over to confirm you had the right sizes.
“all right, you think these will do?” you asked, holding up your haul.
“i think they’re perfect. let’s go find that sweater, and those boots.”
you walked along together, and with him beside you this time, you looked through the children’s sweaters. this one was for a little girl, age six, and nothing was really speaking to you. but then, to your surprise, billy held up a light blue sweater with beautifully knitted snowflakes on it.
“what do you think of this one?” he asked, angling it so you could see better.
“i think it’s perfect, but check the size.”
“already did. it’ll fit her, promise.”
you smiled, then gave him a thumbs up. he smiled a bit, then draped it over his arm before you went on to find the rest of the items on the tags. soon, both his and your arms were full of other clothes, the coats, and one teddy bear that billy picked out for a little boy. you made it to the register, and together, you split the cost of everything. once it was bagged and you were on your way, billy wrapped his arm around your shoulders and tucked you close to his side.
“you’re a good one, you know that?” he asked as you walked.
“so are you,” you replied.
“nah, not me. always been a heartless bastard.”
“a heartless bastard wouldn’t have found that teddy bear. or that sweater. give yourself some credit here, butcher. you’re gonna help make this christmas the best one some of these kids have ever had. it’s the most wonderful time of the year, after all. season of giving and all that,” you said, nudging him gently. he glanced down at the bags between you, then shrugged again and offered a small smile.
“yeah, maybe it is. but that one woman in the toy aisle was a right cunt. did you see the look she was givin’ me?” he asked, and you laughed.
“oh my god, of course i did! it was like she’d never seen a grown man with a teddy bear before. he was a cutie, by the way.”
“mh, cute little fucker. guess that’s what this is all about, eh? making other people happy?”
“that’s how i’ve always seen it.”
“then … as long as i get to make you happy, i can give this holiday shit a try. starting next year.”
a whole 365 days away? you smiled. after all, it was a start.
#billy butcher x reader#billy butcher fluff#billy butcher#billy butcher ficmas#12 days of ficmas 2023#ficmas 2023#lilacliquors ficmas 2023
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Happy New Year!! 🥳🥳🥳
I apologize for not getting this out yesterday. I had a goal to reach 15k words before midnight last night and literally hammered out 6k yesterday, getting to 15 just as the clock was striking 12. 😮💨😮💨😮💨 Which, the next chapter of Learning to Live is almost done. 😊😊😊 I’m on the last stretch.
Long post under the cut:
2023 wasn’t a good year for me, and this last month was especially challenging.
I underwent a lot of change over the last twelve months. That kind of ended up being the theme for the year.
Change.
I had to change my way of life. I had to change where I lived. I had to change where I worked. I had to change my car. I had to change my relationship status. I had to change my homeowner status. I had to change my pet owner status.
Will Smith said it best: my life got flipped-turned upside down.
And I persevered and found happiness where I could, which mostly took the form of writing.
Writing kept me sane.
Along with my besties.
For 2023, I wrote 364,857 words (15k unpublished).
244,242 of them were for Learning to Live alone, over 14 chapters. You can add another 8,976 for one shots in the LTL universe.
The longest post was chapter 4 of September, with 24,852 words.
My shortest was His Worm Wife at a whopping 576 words.
If you’re like, ‘Arizona, how can you write so much about the same thing?’
Because LTL is my happy place, and I turn to it to make myself feel better when real life is kicking my ass. And in 2023, I needed those two sappy, horny, ridiculous fools more than anything.
I wish I could tell you my 2024 is going to be better, but I don’t want to lie to you. The forecast is looking like it’s going to be worse than the last, but I’m gonna keep chugging along, writing, and sharing my stories with all of you wonderful people.
Thank you all for the lovely reblogs, comments, asks, and DMs over the last year. All the love for my silly stories and nice things people have said really helped a girl feel a little better when her life was falling apart. You all were the MVPs of 2023, and I appreciate you all sooo much; you don’t even know. ❤️❤️❤️
Some special shoutouts:
Thank you, @juletheghoul for being there for me through everything and being someone I could count on. I don’t know how I can thank you enough because you really kept me going.
Thank you, @theorganasolo for being the sweetest, and talking to me every day, and always being down to read what I’m writing. I appreciate your support.
Thank you, @iamskyereads for being so goddamn supportive through my trying times and just so amazing.
Thank you, @katareyoudrilling for keeping tabs on me and ensuring I was okay. I appreciate your support and how you always have great advice when I don’t know what the fuck is going on.
Thank you, @thevoiceinyourheadx for being so great and checking up on me and screaming about tidbits I’d send you. You’re amazing.
Thank you, @littlemisspascal for being my funko buddy and just so lovely. I love talking to you.
Also shoutout to:
@msjarvis @darkhairedmenrule @idontgettechnology @theewokingdead, and others I can’t tag or am blanking right now.
Thank you, everyone! I hope you all have a wonderful New Year! 🥰🥰🥰
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ending the night
angel reyes x gn!reader, comfort/fluff, 1982 words
warnings for descriptions of vomiting
for day 12 of whumpril, using the alternate prompt: foodpoisoning
a/n: honestly, this is whump in the same way dessert pizza is pizza... sweet but not really deserving of the name LMAO anyway. when in doubt write angel having a hard time, am i right ?
tagging: @cositapreciosa @drabbles-mc @hausofmamadas
You’re sitting on the edge of Angel’s tub, finishing up a final text to his brother, from his phone, not yours, while Angel empties his stomach into the toilet again. You’ve lost track of how many times he’s puked now, but it’s enough times to know that your evening is well and truly over. He had barely made it from the taxi to the house when you got here, and has said almost nothing since you’d found him in the bathroom, knees to the linoleum.
Not that you mind. Not that you expect anything from him at all, in this state. If anything, you feel bad for being so helpless. And for not being sick yourself, weirdly, but that’s just how the straws were pulled. Beyond the water you’ve left for him on the counter, and the company, there’s nothing else you can do. You’ve already opened the window behind, invited cool air to draw in and, more importantly, the sharp smell of vomit to draw out. Texting EZ as if you were him, had been your most recent idea; a last ditch attempt to be productive and to improve the already dire circumstances.
‘Well,’ you announce, clicking Angel’s phone shut, ‘EZ says he can swing by the restaurant and get your bike.’ You watch him nod, head bouncing between in the hole of the toilet seat. ‘And I told him it was me that got sick, so he can’t clown you about it later.’
He laughs, all breath, and it echoes around the porcelain. ‘Thanks.’
You smile. He can’t say that you don’t look out for him, even this early into things. Five, six, dates down—formal ones, anyway—and you’ve skipped right to the in sickness part. Which you’re doing pretty well at, all things considered.
‘I can,’ he starts, pausing to swallow in-between, ‘pay you back. For the Uber.’
You shake your head. ‘Forget it. You got the bill.’ And he’s paying twice for that too, with money and stomach lining. ‘You think it was the chicken?’
He sighs, daring to look back at you briefly, forearms on the seat. ‘No idea. Shit tastes like battery acid now.’
You wince. ‘I wish I could make it stop for you.’ You wish you could go back in time and make him choose the beef dish that you had, avoid all of this mess, and finish the drinks you’d had to abandon at the bar. ‘You want me to pass you the water?’
He shakes his head before spitting into the bowl, clearing his mouth of the last bout of sickness. You’re both waiting, really, to see if it will come again. Angel breathing slowly, audibly, catching his breath over the edge of the seat. You, staring at his shoulders like they might give you any warning of it.
The time between is getting longer, you think. A sign that the worst is done with. If he can make it twenty minutes, fifteen even, and keep down the water he drinks, then you can both relax.
‘Fuck,’ he pants, wiping his nose and mouth with the back of his hand. He slumps away from the toilet, to sit on the floor instead with his back to the tub. Arm side by side with your shin. ‘I never looked this good, right?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ you nod, ‘big time. I’m practically tearing my clothes off right now.’
He groans, dropping his head to put it against your knee. ‘Can’t believe you stuck around to watch me hurl, dulce.’
‘I stuck around,’ you emphasise, ‘to help.’ You smile, glad he can’t see from where he is, because he’s too vulnerable right now, and he might think that you’re laughing at him. ‘I’m actively trying not to watch.’
He exhales, pushing it through his lips. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. Was supposed to a good fucking night, y’know, fancy restaurant and shit, drinks.’
‘It’s not your fault.’ You pat his head, smoothing your thumb over the shell of his ear. ‘We should probably tell the restaurant, though, because it’s definitely their fault.’
And we deserve a refund, you think, but you don’t say it, because he’ll take that to mean that you didn’t enjoy yourself at all. Right now, he would probably take you standing up to stretch as a cue that you’re gonna leave, sick of him already.
‘You think you’re done?’ you ask, bending over your lap to find his gaze.
He sits upright to help you, then nods, and his eyes flick to your lips momentarily. It’s rare that you’d be so close to one another, and able to resist a kiss, but right now’s an exception. You smile, knowing that he’s thinking it too, seeing the yeah, I get it, in his returning look.
‘Give me a minute,’ he says. ‘Gotta, y’know, make myself smell less like puke.’
‘Course.’ You opt for a kiss to his damp forehead before standing, as close to his mouth as you’ll chance for now.
You decide to wait for him in his room, legs hanging over the end of his bed as the shower cranks to life. It’s the first time you’ve been in here, which isn’t the introduction you had expected, a temporary waiting room while he washed the sick from his beard, but it’s a welcome expansion to your understanding of his home. You’ve been to his place before, but never made it past the couch. He has a preference for it, you think, at least in his own place. He’s had the pleasure of becoming well acquainted with your bedroom, ending the night there the last few times that you’ve met up.
It’s not awkward, being in here, but it is new. Foreign like a hotel room. Granted, a hotel room that someone’s already living in, from the full laundry basket, the used glasses on the side table. The unmade bed you’re perched on.
It doesn’t seem like he was expecting you to be in here today, either. You should ask him about that. Is your place nicer, or is he just too lazy to clean, and simultaneously too proud to let you see his room as it is? You don’t think you’d mind either answer. It’s nice, really. Clean enough, and comfortable in a way that stops you from feeling shy. If you weren’t waiting for the tell-tale signs of more illness, you’d probably lie back, uninvited, and crawl under the covers like it was your bed already.
After a few minutes, the bathroom door cracks open, steam pouring out of it. He must’ve had the quickest shower he could manage, only long enough to douse the sweat and stench off him, and then out again, dressed in just the jeans from before.
He looks exhausted, so tired and disposed of energy, that you can’t even enjoy the sight of him. His bare chest, the tattoos striking across it. You just about fight the urge to throw your arms out and beckon him forward with grabbing, baby hands, because, oh, he looks so helpless, it hurts.
‘Don’t think I got any shit left in me to throw up,’ he grumbles, dragging himself forward.
‘That’s good.’ You throw him a sympathetic smile. ‘Means you’re over the worst of it.’
He makes a sour face, hand lifting to rub over his stomach. ‘Doesn’t feel like it.’
‘You should probably rest then.’
You didn’t think he could look any more sorry for himself, but that does it, that tugs it out of him. His brows sink even further as he nods, unable to argue that he doesn’t need it, but unable to seem keen on it either.
‘Sorry,’ he says, for the tenth time, ‘I ruined our night.’
You roll your eyes quickly. ‘Who says it’s ruined? We’ve got…’ You find the alarm clock, red numbers glowing in the dim room. ‘At least, what, twelve hours before I gotta leave for work?’
And that’s what the extra sulking was for; he really thought you were gonna dip and leave him here to recover alone. He doesn’t realise that if he wasn’t worth looking after, you would’ve left him at the bar, blowing chunks in the stall.
‘You’re staying?’ he asks
‘You’re sick as a dog, Angel. It’d be actual, like, neglect if I left you right now.’
He sighs, finally letting himself collapse on the bed behind you. When you turn, he’s got his eyes squeezed shut, suffering from the bouncing mattress beneath—a misjudgement on his part. ‘If I wasn’t dying right now,’ he says, ‘I’d kiss you so damn hard.’
You laugh, crawling up the length to be beside him and slouch against the headboard. ‘And give me whatever you have? No thanks.’ You pull the cover free from under you, holding it open as you invite him in. ‘Come on,’ you say, ‘get comfy, chulo.’
He steals a look, opening just one of his eyes to see what you’re offering, before rolling into you, his head on your stomach, his arm threading beneath you and the mattress. You set the quilt down again, pulling it up until it’s covering your legs and his shoulders. Then your hand goes to his hair, natural like you do it nightly, rubbing circles around the crown of his head.
‘Hopefully that’s the last of it,’ you tell him.
He hums, speaking into the cotton of your shirt. ‘If I puke on you right now, I’ll kill myself.’
You laugh, bouncing his head with the force and surprise of it.
‘I’m dead serious, dulce, there’s no coming back from that shit. You’ll dump me before I’m even your boyfriend.’
You scoff, grinning still. ‘Not true,’ you argue. ‘But I would use it against you for the rest of time. Hey Angel,’ you tease, ‘remember when you spewed chicken teriyaki all over me?’
He laughs, but it weans off into a groan, his fingers tightening over your hip. ‘Stop talking,’ he pleads, ‘I can still taste that shit.’
And as funny as it is, you really don’t want to smell, or see, or feel, any more fucking vomit, so you oblige. It falls silent and you let it, fingers twirling in his hair still, disrupting the hold of his gel. He breaths evenly over your stomach, pooling warmth on the parts of your skin that the shirt fails to cover.
After a moment, you remember what he’d said afterwards, about breaking it off with him before you’ve officially gotten together. You smile into the question before you’ve even asked, ‘Do you want to be my boyfriend, Angel?’
He takes a moment to answer, and when he does, he’s mumbling it, talking around the ends of a yawn. 'We really gonna do this now?’
‘Yeah, sorry. Bad timing.’ But you’re smiling still, smirking even. Confident of the answer despite his protest. ‘I wouldn’t mind it, though. Just while we’re on the topic.’
The reply you expect doesn’t come, he doesn’t say anything at all. You try to look at him, but can’t bend far enough, not with his head resting as it is. You can just about see the thick black of his lashes, flicking out from closed eyes.
‘Angel?’
He groans, readjusting until he’s lay on your chest, with his arms wrapped tight around your middle. ‘Your boyfriend is very sleepy,’ he says, waking up just long enough to engage and send your heart-rate soaring. ‘Keep doing that shit with my hair,’ he mutters, adding a, ‘please,’ after a moments reflection.
You laugh, light and soft over the top of his head. ‘Yes, boss.’ You thread your fingers in again, as he asked you to, and trail them across his scalp. ‘I think I like you when you’re sick,’ you muse, basically whispering it now. ‘You’re way cuter.’
‘Mhmm,’ he hums, and that’s the last you get from him. He’s asleep before he can deny it.
#angel reyes#angel reyes x reader#angel reyes fanfic#mayans mc fanfic#whumpril2023#i keep feeling bad that i want to just write angel in various situations but like..#oh well lol#he is possessing my spirit and thats ok
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Brewing Romance
Pairing: Diluc x GN!Reader
Featuring: Diluc, Kaeya, Jean
Genre: Fluffff, Barista AU, Modern AU, College AU
Summary: barista au….un lang lol also diluc falls in love at first sight….yeah
Reader’s Pronouns: they/them
Warning: diluc is so down bad, kinda ooc mb…(not really) HES SO FINE WOOF WOOF slight kaebedo implied lawlwlwlwlw
Disclaimer: ⚠️ ONLY A WORK OF FICTION!
i. a change of pace
Diluc Ragnvindr wishes for a change of pace. Something different from his boring dull life as a college student who works part time at a nearby café.
It’s not like he needs the money or anything, his family is quite wealthy, but he decided to work for the experience. Also because his friend, Jean, forced him.
Not really forced him no, more like begged him to help her around the shop because they were very understaffed, and Diluc being the kind stoic soul he is, took pity in his friend and decided to accept her offer.
Unluckily for him, he didn’t know that his brother, Kaeya, also works at the café, if he asked Kaeya why, all he’d respond is with “To scout cute chicks!” But he knows Kaeya was just really ogling the blonde kid with bags in his eyes that sits in the back of the café, he noticed that Kaeya would always volunteer to give the man his order…..
ii. new face ?
It’s like as if the Anemo Archon himself heard his pleas for a new face, because a few days later he’s greeted with someone new.
Not like he recognizes every single costumer that comes and goes, but you stood out to him because damn….you were breathtaking.
When you walked up to the cashier he internally panicked, immediately putting Kaeya in his spot and disturbing his brother from ogling that blonde kid again.
“Hey?!! Bro what the hell was that for?!?!” Kaeya exclaims “Spot me. You take their order and I’ll make it. Alright?” Diluc states
Not getting another word in, and not wanting to question Diluc about his red face for now, he begrudgingly takes your order, still kind of looking at the blonde kid at the back (these brothers are so down bad what the hell 🔥🔥)
Diluc makes your order, still as red as his hair, because you ordered his favorite drink, and Jean noticed that he was making it with a smile on his face. ‘I guess he’s finally gone crazy.’ She thinks to herself.
Diluc hands you your order, looking down a bit, because he swear if he sees your beautiful presence again he might actually just combust.
You notice a ‘help wanted’ poster near the door and decide to ask him about it.
“Hey are you guys still looking for help? Cause I’d love to work part time here, if that’s alright.” You state. And Diluc’s brain actually stumbles into himself, he responds to you with “O-of course! We’d be happy to accept your h-help..You can ask the manager for the application form and she can schedule an interview with you” He finishes, and points to where Jean was.
“Thank you so much! Uhm….Diluc?” You read on his name tag. Taken aback, Diluc replies “O-of course! No problem. Happy to help.”
Kaeya was watching the whole scene from the cashier with a stupid smile on his face, god damn his brother was in for it hard.
iii. ARE YOU UP FOR THE CHALLENGE????? *vine boom*
On the day of your interview with Jean, you decided to dress up nicely and give it all you’ve got, like this is some big corporate job or something.
But hey, to you this was a big interview because god fucking damn did you need some spare cash, you don’t think you can live on processed food for another week even if you had to.
Jean doesn’t beat around the bush and immediately tells you that your hired, saying that you could start tomorrow.
Diluc over hears your interview and smiles to himself, he can finally work with someone he wants too!
iv. cupid works in mysterious ways
Even if you did work together, Diluc unfortunately does not have the same shift as you do. He works the lunch hours from 11 am to 3 pm, while you work from 8 am to 12 noon, which only alots one hour with you everyday, but he tried to make the best of those 60 minutes with you.
Though he was very nervous to approach you at first, he was the one tasked to help you work the coffee machine, and how the workflow goes.
Admittedly, he gets distracted by you sometimes, he just can’t help himself. The way your hair is kept neatly so it doesn’t get it your face, the way the apron hugs you form, making you seem more beautiful than you already were.
It’s not like you were stupid or anything, you weren’t oblivious to the obvious ogling Diluc does whenever he works with you. It brings a wave of heat to your cheeks, because to have such attractive man have eyes for you? You’d almost believe that you were the mc of a fan fiction or something.
Jean obviously noticed the tension you two would emit whenever you worked together, and how Diluc hesitated to greet you goodbye when your shift was over. So she arranged a new schedule for him, to be on the same work shift as you.
They weren’t as understaffed as before, having a good handful of employees that recently applied. Mostly because they wanted to check out the two hot brothers that worked at front. But hey, whatever keeps the business going am I right?
Before Diluc leaves by the end of his shift, double checking if he’s cleaned the machine thoroughly, Jean calls him into her office, Diluc obliges, not thinking much of it.
“Is there a particular reason you called me here Jean?” Diluc asks, while closing the door of her office. “Don’t worry Diluc, it isn’t anything dire. Just a slight change in your work hours.” She says while fixing the papers on her desk.
At this, Diluc’s ears perk up, “My shift? Change? What for?” To be closer with you, he hopes.
“I’ve decided for you to have the same shift as y/n, I sense that you have no opposition to this? Seeing as you enjoy your time on the job whenever they are present.” Jean states like it was to be expected. “Of course, I don’t have any oppositions. You are the manager after all.”
v. latte (he)art
To say you were surprised to see Diluc at work that early the next day was an understatement. You were ecstatic. “Diluc? what are you doing at work so early?” You ask, a smile threatening to form on your lips, trying your hardest to hold yourself back at the sight of him.
“Jean decided to change my shift, so I could work the morning hours, since that’s our busiest time.” And to spend more time with you, Diluc wants to say, but decides against it.
“Really? That’s great!” You start with a smile on your face. “Oh and uhm, I actually really needed your help with something. You know the latte art? Yeah I’m learning to do that now but it’s really hard, Kaeya tried to teach me but he completely gave up, I swear he just works here to ogle that blonde kid at the back”
“Of course I’d help you y/n, it’d be my pleasure.” Diluc says with a smile on his face. He looked very pretty when he smiled, you thought.
You and Diluc spent a few hours and countless cups of coffee, trying to get you to create an actually presentable output. But you just couldn’t seem to get the hang of it.
Profusely apologizing over and over again, But Diluc didn’t seem to mind, having been patient with you this whole time. He decided it was best for you both to have a slight break from the latter art.
But then you felt something warm on your hands, a cup of coffee and Diluc’s warm fingers, seeming to engulf your own.
You looked down at the cup of coffee, and then up at him, noticing that the cup held a cute heart in it, which made your own heart soar with happiness.
“Let’s take a break yeah? We can learn once you’ve collected yourself. Just enjoy this cup I’ve made for you for now.” Diluc hands you the cup, while leaving a loving yet hesitant kiss to your forehead.
———————
gbye i didn’t know how to end this……anyways enjoy 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪
#genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin fluff#genshin crack#genshin angst#genshin impact x you#genshin diluc#diluc ragnvindr#diluc raginvndr x reader#diluc ragnivindr x you#diluc raginvindr x reader#master diluc#diluc x reader#diluc angst#diluc fluff#diluc x y/n#gi diluc
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Tagged by @cnnmonbimee! Thank you for the tag!! Read her awesome answers here!
1. How many works do you have on Ao3?
66! More than I thought were on there tbh!
2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?
Uhhh apparently it's 684,757! Less than I thought!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
In order of most fics to least: Ace Attorney, JSHK, My Hero Academia, Mob Psycho 100, Homestuck, Hunter x Hunter, Phineas and Ferb, and Supernatural. I've also written a lot of Pokemon stuff, but somehow that has escaped Ao3 despite it being my longest fandom LOL. Working on a Pokemon SV one currently though 👀
4. What are your top five fics by kudos?
Project: Matchmakers (shocker, I know), Sleep (Too) Tight (It's always been slowly but steadily popular), Force of Habit (bit of a surprise there honestly), Project: Matrimony (less surprising), and The Stuff of Dreams.
So what I am seeing here is that no one leaves kudos on my JSHK or MP100 or MHA fics :') Some of these fics are one-shots, so it's kind of surprising! I wish PlayWright had gotten more attention; that fic killed me while I was writing it. I'm not giving number of kudos because I'm not comfortable with that and it makes me feel bad about myself haha,,,
5. Do you respond to comments?
I try to! I've fallen behind on responding to them in the past 2 years or so because life has been so busy, though…
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Probably A Practice, For Now?? LMAO it's also my first JSHK and the one with the most kudos HMM COULD THIS FANDOM BE ADDICTED TO ANGST PERHAPS??! I don't write angst a lot!! What can I say, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Almost all of my fics end happily, LOL. Pick any of them that actually has an ending.
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Not commonly. I've gotten anon hate before about them on tumblr on rare occasions, but usually my comments on ao3 stay pretty nice.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I do sometimes, but I'm so shy about it that I rarely ever post it /)//w//(\ Usually I just share it among friends, haha!
10. Do you write crossovers?
Nope, and I never will!
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Yes. Someone tried to run Project: Matchmakers through a translator to hide the word matches and sell it as an ebook on Amazon, but they only bothered to hide it for chapter 1 so someone reported it to me and then in retaliation I started actually selling it on Amazon for the lowest price I could because the thief was trying to sell the shittier version for like 7 dollars LSFJ;AKLD. Read about the whole debacle here.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yes, quite a few! People have been great about asking me for permission! 💖
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
Yes, here and there! Usually it's either fics where I have written one part and someone else has written another scene, or someone had me look over something they'd written and I added so much commentary or threw additional ideas at them so much that the story ended up changing and I somehow became a co-author, LOL.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Oh my god don't make me answer that ;alskdjfl;k. If I wrote a fic for them ever, they're my favorite. I have so many favorites that I've never written fics for, too.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
THE UNDERCOVER FIIIIIC [sobs] and also Left on Read hnnngh
16. What are your writing strengths?
Emotions!! I'm super good at those! I'm also really strong at dialogue and banter, and making my writing kinda witty/funny.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Describing settings ;w; I write my scenes like I draw my art: in Descriptionless Blank Voids lkas;dlkf. I also struggle with the flow of action scenes sometimes, though I think they usually turn out okay if I spend enough time on them.
I also probably use too many adverbs and adjectives, but y'know what? Fuck it I like my descriptive words thank you very much
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
As long as you're checking that it means what you think it means, or possibly asking a native speaker if you're unsure about context or need a sensitivity reader, I think it's fine. It annoys me if I have to check a footnote every other line, but if you can mostly understand it without a translation in context, it can be kinda nice! At least it says you're trying more than phonetically spelling out an accent, which--remember, kids!--is always cringe! 👍
19. First fandom you wrote for?
On Ao3, it was Homestuck. On the internet in general, it was Animal Crossing and Pokemon, LOL.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Don't make me cHOOSE BETWEEN MY BABIESSS 😭 I dunno man! Project: Matchmakers is my magnum opus, but the PlayWright is lowkey kind of a masterpiece, I love so many of my JSHK fics to bits and pieces, a lot of my MP100 and MHA fics are very special to me, I've been trying to write a HxH one for YEARS and have poured my heart into making it beautiful, just UGHHH every single one of my fics I have vivid memories of conceptualizing and working on and most of them are my favorite to some degree!
I tag @carochinha, @kittykatz009, @toastytoaster22, @ittybittytoostormy, and anyone else who would like to answer these questions!!
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Zoro x F!Reader: Day 12
Tags: nsfw, degradation, humiliation, penetrative sex, mentions of pregnancy, spit swallowing, and creampie
“Move your hips, damn it!”
“I’m sorry!”
You whimper as Zoro fucks into you, his hands holding yours behind your back. Your eyes roll back as he pounds you relentlessly, barely giving you time to thrust back into him.
“Shit, you’re such a useless whore.” He grunts, his balls smacking against your clit, “All you do is lay there and take it. I bet even Nami could do better than you.”
You sniffle as he degrades you, his hips never letting up for a moment as he continues humiliating you.
“Yeah, her tits are bigger too. Not like your small pathetic ones. What a joke.” He grunts, “Wish I was fucking her instead, but I’ll settle for your hole.”
You whimper as you do exactly what he accuses you of: being a lazy, good-for-nothing hole. You drool openly as he plows into you, his cock reaching depths no other man ever could. He’s right; you’re lucky he’s even wasting his time with you. He could easily have Nami instead, but he chooses you.
“You’re lucky your ass is at least nice to look at.” He chuckles, spanking it harshly. You whine as he smacks it again, leaving behind a stinging feeling.
“But it doesn’t make up for how pathetic you are,” He says, gripping your wrists in one hand while the other squeezes your ass, “Your blowjob skills are shit. I had to fuck your face to make it somewhat worthwhile. And you could barely ride my dick at a decent tempo.”
You bite your lip; the meaner he is, the wetter you start getting. Whenever Zoro was mean like this, it seriously got you off. You were happy that he was obliging you.
“Seriously, you’re only good at being a cum dump, and eventually, you’ll be useless at that once you get pregnant.”
Your face goes crimson red at his statements. You wish you could bury your face in your hands, but you simply keep your face glued to the ground, where Zoro insisted it be.
“Speaking of,” he groans, “Gonna fill up that hole of yours right now. Bet you’ll love that.”
“Yes!” You moan out, “I want it. I need it!”
“I need it!” He parrots, making fun of your voice, “You’re so fucking pathetic! All you do is beg and beg. You hardly worked for my cum. Do you really think you deserve it?”
You go stiff as he leans in, his breath lingering against your ear. You swallow, “I don’t deserve it!”
“So you admit you’re worthless.”
“Yes, I’m only useful as a hole for you!”
He chuckles and immediately pistons his hips in and out at top speed, causing more drool to slip past your lips. You shut your eyes tight as you feel something warm fill you up. The swordsman groans above you, his hips slowing but not to a complete stop as he fucks his cum into you.
“Thank you for giving me your cum.” You sigh as he pulls out from your hole, the fluid seeping out of it.
He smacks your ass yet again, causing you to yelp out. Zoro pulls you by your hair into a kneeling position, “You’re not done yet. Open up.”
You obey him without question as he moves in front of you, hovering above you. Without another word, he spits on your tongue, and you moan at the humiliating action.
“Swallow it.”
You stick your tongue back into your mouth and gulp, tasting his spit mixed with your own.
“Good,” He smirks, “Maybe you’re not so useless after all.”
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very kindly tagged by @cursedhaglette, thank you for giving me a chance to talk about my writing :)
1) How many works do you have on AO3?
11! :)
2) What’s your total AO3 word count?
lmfao. 985,659. That's nearly ten thesises (theses?) in the time of my PhD programme, so I'm going to just go quickly walk into the sea.
3) What fandoms do you write for?
the majority of my fic is for videogames with love interests and OC potential (BG3, Dragon Age) but I did briefly fall prey to the darklina disease, which I have to admit to here in order to answer some of the other questions
4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
1- Pieces Still Stuck in Your Teeth (bg3)
2- Party Favours (bg3)
3- A Bleeding Heart (bg3)
4- The Stars Don't Shine, They Burn (shadow and bone)
5- An Honest Lie (bg3)
5) Do you respond to comments?
as best as I can, I typically clear out a previous chapter just before I post something new (so that's one way to monitor or predict my posting activity lmfao)
6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
Lmao. Sunblindness (shadow and bone) which takes an 'eye for an eye' approach to an amnesia AU. I actually wanted to end on a major character death but my pal's response was "jesus Emma, this is something people read for fun" so I watered it down :')))))
7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Party Favours currently!! Happier endings incoming, IMO.
8) Do you get hate on fics?
yes, occasionally, I'm still in single digits thankfully. i always find it so funny bc nobody is more critical of my fic than me. you think you can hurt me? babygirl, we're in the 5th dimension of insults in my brain, your surface level comment barely touches the sides.
9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
nope! call me the Astarion!spawn ending, the way I fade-to-black :')))))
10) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I crossovered Stardust and Shadow and Bone, but it was not a straight crossover it was more a chewed up, swallowed, and digested version of both premises. I similarly wrote a Wintersmith/Shadow and Bone crossover that I never posted bc the sickness left me.
11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?
lol. lmfao, even. :)))))
12) Have you ever had a fic translated?
I have had requests made of me and given permission for that to happen, but I do not know if it was ever posted!
13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?
no, it's not for me unfortunately, I was that horrible kid in group projects who just wished she could work alone :')))))))))))
14) What’s your all time favorite ship?
honestly there are many but the two that are indelibly written on my soul are Howl/Sophie and Spike/Buffy like the simple bitch I am.
In terms of things I've written? zevran/surana, hands down.
15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Anything I post I will eventually finish, out of social anxiety alone. At the moment I'm worried about the stuff sitting unposted in gdocs.
16) What are your writing strengths?
hahahahahahaha i don't fucking know i think i can make character voices distinct so you can usually tell which POV I'm writing from once the perspectives are established?
I have been complimented on my dialogue.
I think I'm usually brave enough to take a risky decision, even if it doesn't pay off. These decisions also land more than they used to so it's a skill I've built with time and one I am proud of.
My jokes don't seem to just be for me anymore, I like it when other people say I made them laugh.
17) What are your writing weaknesses?
If there's something that can be said straightforwardly in a sentence, you know I'll say it in three paragraphs instead. I wouldn't be surprised if people think I'm a purple-prosed motherfucker.
Smut and lack thereof
the repeat of 'conversation, stage direction, eye contact, expression, repeat' is not a weakness but it is something I become intermittently self conscious of.
18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I am a fan of it and I appreciate it when its done well (pour one out for Naomi Novik's fic/writing where the language work is cringingly poor), but not something I can personally do. Admirer in others, of the skills I lack.
19) First fandom you wrote for?
*dabs* Dragon Age, the OG. It was the pandemic, and I didn't want to replay Wicked Eyes Wicked Hearts bc I hate timed sections, so I wrote a fic instead.
20) Favorite fic you’ve written?
I feel bad writing this on the blog that's currently 99% BG3, but The Stars Don't Shine They Burn. It was my first time plotting something that diverged greatly from source material, and I was going through some stuff at the time that I can feel viscerally when I return to it and read the words. It is a work of personalised comfort. There's one scene in it that still gets me, every single time.
I don't know, it's funny to see Pieces get attention and I'm very, very proud of Pieces, but some of what I'm thinking through in that was in its proto-form in the other fic, which is finished and I'm really proud of it... so let's see if anything comes along to bop it off the top spot once I have a critical distance and am not in the writing trenches lol.
Tagging wise, I actually want to do an open call on this one!! this was a really pleasant exercise, so anyone seeing this who wants to talk about their writing or celebrate their achievements can take this as my personal invitation :)
scared? do it anyway x
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20 questions for fic writers!
Both @teejaystumbles and @spockandthings tagged me in this, so let's get it done!!
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
I just recently posted up my 668 work on Ao3.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
5,129,415 words!!
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Right now, Sandman!! But I also dabble in other fandoms, including Shadowhunters, Supernatural, and a few others!
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
In general-
1. Never Judge A Shadowhunter By Their Scent - 4,712
2. The New York Shadow Market (Featuring Protective Alec Lightwood) - 3,262
3. Magnus Bane: Certified BAMF - 3,252
4. A Curse, A Choice, A Claim - 3,031
5. A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - 2,887
In Sandman-
1. Hopes & Dreams - 2,482
2. The Art of Seduction Via Longbow - 1,657
3. The Price - 1,220
4. A Husband, A Consort, A Nightmare - 1,089
5. Dreams Make Living Worthwhile - 1,022
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Indeed I do - sometimes months later (as a whole hell of a lot of people know right now from my comment reply spree, lol), but yes!
I love taking the time to say thank you - even if you left an emoji - it made me smile and I feel like I should thank you for that!
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
With the angstiest ENDING? (I'm a HEA stan, so hold on, this'll take a second.)
Probably Learning to Say Goodbye - which has an open/hopeful ending.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
HAPPIEST ending? All of them. Oh man. I don't even know. What do you consider the happiest ending? The Titanic AU - Make It Count (which has the happiest possible ending)?
Hopefully - My Hope of the Endless series?
(And that's just in the Sandman fandom!)
8. Do you get hate on fics?
I have, yup! I tend not to as a whole, but it has definitely happened!
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Oh yes. What kind? Uh. Well. Everything from the schmoopiest first time possible to all-orifices fucking with magical tentacles, sooo? All of it?
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY AND WILL WRITE SO MANY MORE.
The craziest crossover I ever wrote is a 5-fandom crossover - set in the Sandman universe. I pulled in characters from the Hades Game, Supernatural, Shadowhunters, and Good Omens in and had all of them face off against Hell!
The War for the Dreaming
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Unfortunately, yes, multiple times. I wish that on no person.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
Yup!!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
A great many, in multiple fandoms!! Shout out to awesome co-authors who keep me sane!!
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Omg I can't pick a FAVORITE. I've had so many over the years, I don't know if I ever could truly pick a favorite.
Malec probably comes pretty damn close though, all things considered.
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
Candy Coated Nightmare.
I want to finish it from the perspective of wanting to finish the story - but when the original creator of the gif story quit the fandom due to their work being stolen and stopped the project - finishing the story without them didn't seem right. So while I want to finish it to finish the story - I never will.
16. What are your writing strengths?
I've learned how to hack my ADHD brain and trigger hyperfocus whenever I want using a writing software. Which means I can write very obscene amounts of words, very quickly.
(Also experience - I've been doing this for 23+ years now.)
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
Editing and research. I hate editing, so none of my fics receive more than a cursory read-through at best. And having to heavily research a fic is what kills my enthusiasm for it faster than anything else, so I avoid it at all costs and make up things as I go along whenever that is an option.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Love the idea - but i think you gotta use the AO3 feature that allows you to put the translation when you click/hover over it!
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Wheeew, we're going back to 2004, okay. Gundam Wing was my first ever fandom I wrote for.
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
How the hell am I supposed to pick?
I love Make It Count because that fic (all 120k) wrote itself. I love Together We Soar because it was the first long fic I wrote myself. (Long for me, anyways.) I love Alexander is Endlessly Surprising because I wrote 2 full sets of the Oldest Game and I thought I did an AWESOME job. I love The War for the Dreaming because it was an insane undertaking and I managed it. I love Magnus Bane: Certified BAMF because it introduced my favorite OC of all time - Oberon Onyx.
So many more I could name, but I'll leave it there, at least for now!
Tagging @moorishflower, @cuubism, @blueberrymffn, @seiya-starsniper and anyone else who wants to participate!!
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20 Questions for Fic Writers
Tagged by the amazing, sexy, incredible @wormdebut - thanks, love! ❤️
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
Eighteen and and a whole batch of new ones incoming for the @steddieholidaydrabbles - so excited, weeeeeee!!!
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
308,387
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Stranger Things
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Hic sunt dracones
Someone who cares
Possession
See you in a crown
Just add water
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Yes, always! (Well, except for the rude ones but I can count those on my fingers, thank God!) Every single comment is so fucking precious to me. You didn’t only take the time to read my story, but you liked it enough to go to that little box and tell me your thoughts? Kissing you, kissing you, KISSING YOU!!! 😘
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I’m a happy endings gal all the way! If I’m gonna put them through the horrors for hundreds of thousands of words, I damn well wanna give them their happily ever after! That being said, I have this little microfic where tentacle lake monster Steeb enthralls Eddie to lure people to him so that he can eat them. Sorry, Eddie!
(He’ll absolutely bring him O’Donnell and Principal Higgins, so it’s fine.)
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Hic sunt dracones! I mean hello? They are mates and Steve is King and everyone is happy and my boy gets flower crowns and apple pie and hot, hot dragon sex forever after!
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Someone once felt the need to leave me a very passive aggressive comment on how my Brit slips were “completely ruining the vibe” of my fics (and then I wrote a microfic about British!Steve, I’m still laughing).
Oh, and then there was that one time I was accused of racism.
But apart from that, everyone has been lovely and fantastic and supportive and I really love it here. I’ve met so many more lovely people than assholes.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
Ummm … I’m the person with the 100k dragon porn fic. Hell yes, I write smut! I love writing smut, all kinds of smut!
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
No, sorry, my brain doesn’t do crossovers. XD
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Nope.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No, but I’d be thrilled to see it happen. Any and all transformative works are always welcome, just be sure to tag me because I’d love to see them and you will have my sword and my axe for eternity and I will scream about it forever!
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
I once co-wrote an original work with a friend when we were like 15? We had no idea what the fuck we were doing and it never got finished, but it was a blast!
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Steddie. I love them, I’m obsessed with them, I think I’ll be writing fic for them for the rest of my life!
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I’m committed to finishing all of my WIPs, that’s why I’m a good girl and only ever work on one large fic at a time with smaller projects on the side, but there’s SO MANY I WANNA WRITE STILL!!!!
16. What are your writing strengths?
Several people have told me that I’m really good at scene setting and evoking imagery, at painting very vivid pictures in their minds … so I guess there’s that.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
I wish I could write stunning, creative metaphors like @wynnyfryd . The river Styx one from the trailer park AU? Blew me away! I could never come up with that!
I also admire @wingedquill for being able to be concise and still so fucking intense in their fics! I'm a wordy bitch myself and always in awe of that skill.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
I’ve never been in a situation where I was faced with the decision, but I think I’d rather describe it instead of typing out the actual words? Such as “they exchanged a few sentences in Spanish”. I’m only fluent in one language besides English, so I feel like I’d either need to get help or include a horrifically mangled Google translation and end up being unintentionally hilarious.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
The first fandom I published for was Stranger Things.
The first fandom I wrote for was Harry Potter, back before it went to shit (Wolfstar shipper of the very first hour here)
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Hic sunt dracones, my beloved! This fic is everything I ever wanted, both in terms of writing and the echo it received. I still daydream about these two (and have another bonus drabble coming in December).
Zero-pressure tags: @cranberrymoons, @gorgeousgreymatter-x, @lexirosewrites
#steddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steve x eddie#steddie fanfic#fanfiction writer#fanfiction#fanfic#my writing#ask games
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Do all the ones you haven't gotten yet 😂🥰❤️ ilysm
OMG YOU BRAT
1. Which of your fics would you keep the basic plot of but rewrite completely?
Um, probably my Linstead multi-chapter (I think you're familiar hahahaha), mostly because I had no plan in place and it became a total mess. So I guess I would rewrite it by... not writing it at all?
Oh! But seriously I kind of wish I could go back and re-write this one. It was my first foray into writing for Chenford, and I've been thinking about a bunch lately for some reason (I think because it's vaguely related to another idea I have). I wish I'd kept it entirely canon compliant.
3. How would you describe your writing style?
Lately? Nonexistent.
4. Do you have any OCs? Do you have a story for them?
Original characters are TERRIFYING to me. There's a reason I write fanfic and not original fiction, coming up with characters (especially well-rounded, relatable ones that people like) feels impossible. So I just... don't. (To the point that I researched the names of every single referenced member of Metro so I could use actual character names and not make any up. I have the list if anyone's interested 😜)
5. What's a tag you never want to use for your works even when it applies?
I find this question confusing. I never want to use MCD, but it shouldn't ever apply since I have no intention to write it. What a cop out of an answer, but I don't understanddddd. OH! I sometimes wish I could exclude relevant tags for the surprise factor.
6. What's your ratio for rating your works?
What does this mean? Oh wait, I think it means in terms of T vs M vs E? Sex brings it to M, and porn is E?
7. Your favourite ao3 tag.
Lately? Established relationship or missing moment.
8. How slow is a slow burn?
So slow that they spend most of the story dancing around their feelings and only get together near the very end.
12. If you write in more than one language, what's the difference?
Strictly English over here.
13. Rate your worldbuilding skills from 1 to 10.
Uh... 1 or 2? Because I don't build worlds, I play in existing ones created by the show?
16. Are one-shots really underrated?
Wait are they underrated??? WHY?? I LOVE a one-shot. Whether it's 500, 2000, or 10K words, I love being able to sit down and enjoy and fully fleshed out story from start to finish.
17. Past or present tense? Why?
I used to write in past tense, but I think reading more present tense influenced me to do the same, and now I prefer present.
19. Share a snippet from a wip without giving any context for it.
“No!” she practically shouts at him. She takes a moment to school herself, exhaling slowly. “I mean, Tim, I say this with love, but if you don’t give me some fucking space, I will kill you.”
20. Do you work on a single project or many at the same time? How does that work for you?
Many. Though it usually bites me in the ass because I end up stuck on something, and then something else, etc. So clearly it doesn't work all that well. But I think (unless I was on a total roll, which sometimes happens) I'd be stifled if I focused on only one thing. Plus ideas tend to multiply.
21. Can you accurately predict how long your fics are going to be? If you can, what's your secret?
No, not really. I don't typically write anything super long though.
22. What is it about watching the same two idiots falling in love over and over again?
I DON'T KNOW BUT I LOVE MY IDIOTS!!!!
24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flashforwards.
Not really a fan, especially if they're super long. A couple of lines here or there are a-okay with me, but when you're italicizing half a chapter? Pass.
25. Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go?
As in, with a multi-chapter? I clearly suck at that, so I think I'd only ever do another if I wrote the whole thing in advance (or at least had a VERY clear plan in place)
27. Do you agree that one shouldn't start a story with a piece of dialogue?
Nope, strongly disagree. Sometimes it just works to jump right in without preamble.
28. Any writing advice that works for you and you feel like sharing?
Not really, but I'll take any advice you want to throw at me, because I am soooooo stuck.
30. Describe a fic that almost happened, but then it didn't.
Well right now, every single one. Because I CAN'T WRITE 😩. Oh, but my Contractor Jay fic counts I guess? *Sigh* 10K words of nothing. IT HAUNTS ME
32. Do you have a word/expression that you always use in your writing?
Fuck. And murmur. I looooove murmur, it's my favourite.
33. Give your writing a compliment.
😩 I... can... idk dude, I can't right now. How do you compliment something that doesn't exist?!?!?!? I'm going with my fallback -- I'm decent(ish) with words themselves, but ideas are my struggle.
34. Do you write to improve? Or is that not a concern for you?
Do I sound like an ass if I say no? 😬 I write as a creative outlet, that's all.
35. Thoughts on writing challenges/contests.
Contests, no thanks, I don't like the idea of pitting writers against each other (assuming that's what that means???). I'm all about celebrating other writers. Challenges, like #chenfordweek? YES, I wrote more that week that I had in ages, I apparently do well when there's a fire under my ass.
36. How do you come up with fic titles? What's the one you're most proud of?
I ask you? 😅 And when I try by myself, I follow your lead of Taylor Swift lyrics. Fave of the ones I've managed to do on my own? I like this one best I think?
38. "This never happened" fix-it fics or "this happened but" fix-it fics?
As long as you fix it, I'm happy! (Yes Suz, I mean you specifically here)
39. Wildest AU scenario you have written?
I've only written one, so I guess that's it -- paging Dr. Jay Halstead. I don't think any of the AU ideas I've played around with are particularly wild.
40. Write a 9-word fic.
What the fuck is this question?!!? Tim Bradford loves Lucy Chen forever and ever. Amen. Nine words does not a fic make.
Thanks-ish, I love you and I hate you for this 💖
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20 Questions for fic writers!
Thanks for the tags @artsyunderstudy @wellbelesbian @prettygoododds and @bookish-bogwitch! It was fun reading your answers 💜
1. How many works do you have on AO3?
22! 3 are collabs, and some of mine are quite short but I am still proud of that number.
2. What’s your total AO3 word count?
315,168. (That number is crazy) but again, some of that is collabs, including Birthday Man which is 39k and written by several people, and my part was very short. I would guess the real number is around 265k, which…damn. That’s still a lot.
3. What fandoms do you write for?
Carry On! That’s it.
4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
Plus One
Rose-Colored Glasses
Shield Me
How to Avoid a Scandal
Archery 101
5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
Always! I love getting comments. We have such a rich comment culture in our fandom and it’s something I really enjoy participating in. I feel like I’m doing my part to keep that comment culture robust when I engage with other commenters.
6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
I was about to say I don’t do angsty endings, but then I remembered my mafia fic Button Man and, fuck. Yeah, that one’s real angsty.
7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
Most of them are happy I think. Beastly is a fairytale with a traditional happy ending, but honestly most of them are, especially the longer ones. I even left Button Man as ambiguous because I’m a wimp 😂
8. Do you get hate on fics?
Nope! This fandom is so nice, we rarely see hate and I hope we can keep it that way.
9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?
I do! Mostly super tender and full of emotion. Sappy porn.
10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?
Nope. A few AUs but none with any actual character crossovers.
11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?
Not that I know of! Is that a thing? Beside AI scrapping I hadn’t ever heard of that.
12. Have you ever had a fic translated?
No
13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?
A few! Plus One with @fatalfangirl and Archery 101 with @whatevertheweather, plus contributing to Birthday Man. Co-writing can be challenging at times but mostly it’s been good fun.
14. What’s your all time favorite ship?
Snowbaz. Always and forever
15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?
I have some things languishing in my docs but the only WIP that’s published is Depth of Reason and I fully intend to finish it.
16. What are your writing strengths?
Probably emotions and inner thoughts. I like the plots and premises that drive my stories as well. I think I’ve got some creative ones in there.
17. What are your writing weaknesses?
When I read other works I can always find things i appreciate that others do well that I wish I could do better. I wish I was funnier. I wish I could write banter or witty dialogue or crack. I wish I could be more poetic. I wish my writing was sexier or more visceral. Maybe I’ll get better at these things. And maybe I’ll never write in styles I appreciate. Which is okay. We can’t do it all.
18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?
Besame mucho 😘 No, idk my language skills are crap so I doubt I’d do this in a fic unless I saw a need for it in a story and I had someone’s help with it.
19. First fandom you wrote for?
Carry On is the only fandom I’ve written for. And the only creative writing I’ve done, too!
20. Favorite fic you’ve written?
Probably Depth of Reason. It isn’t finished but it’s my baby.
This was fun! No pressure tagging @fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @cutestkilla @aristocratic-otter @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus
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