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deathbecomesthem · 13 days

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linecook!Eddie Munson x server!reader | 1K

*not proofread, just thrown together and offered into the Tumblr void.

You’ve come to look forward to the slow days. Even with less bills lining your pocket, you still walk out of the diner with a smile on your face. The slow days are when you get to talk to Eddie. He sits with you at the counter and rolls silverware with you - one roll of his for every three of yours. Your hands move automatically, no need to watch the flashing of knives, forks, and spoons. Eddie’s eyes stay on the napkin as he works. And you watch him.

“...that racoon really had it out for me. I had no idea they could hold a grudge like that.” Eddie’s telling a story, he tells a lot of stories. You missed the first part of it, hypnotized by the way his lips form words. He didn’t shave this morning, you can see short bristles above his lip and know exactly how it would feel to run your finger along them.

“I’m sorry,” you put your hand up, halting his speech, “rewind. I zoned out. Start over.”

Eddie laughs, and you take note of the way his smile cuts into his cheeks. You could curl up in those lines, take a nap in his dimples. “I can’t believe you’d disrespect Frank the Racoon like that. Be careful, or you’ll end up on his shit list too.”

“Well, tell me. What did you do to Frank? It must have been bad if he’s got a vendetta against you.” Eddie looks up at you, and you dart your eyes to the silverware tray between the two of you as if you had not been staring at him for the last several minutes.

“I didn’t do anything. Not on purpose. Frank is unreasonable, he always has been.” Eddie sighs, and resumes his slow and purposeful work. He picks up a knife, sets it on the napkin in front of him, and then a fork, and then a spoon. You risk a look up at him and find his eyes cast down on the set in front of him. “Frank’s been hanging around outside my place for a while now. I couldn’t sleep on night about 6 months ago and found him eating the cat food I leave on the porch-”

“You leave cat food on your porch? Do you have a cat?” You break in, desperate to know if he has a feline pal. He’s never talked about one.

“What? No, I don’t have a cat, per se. There are cats that hang around my place, and I feed them. Kermit, Jonesy, Mint, and Jelly - but we’re talking about Frank right now.” Eddie looks up and points a spoon at your face to emphasize his point. You tilt your head in acceptance, and he continues, “Anyway, so I’ve been feeding the cats salmon flavored Whiskas for years now. I’ve never heard any complaints, and Frank was obviously enjoying it too. About 4 weeks ago, the Kroger on Harris stopped carrying it.”

At this point, you’re really listening with interest. You want to know how this story can end with a racoon plotting Eddie’s demise. You reach into the tray to grab a fork, and Eddie’s hand goes for one at the same time. A rare brush of fingers has you pulling your hand away from his as if you’ve been burned.

“Sorry,” an automatic apology stumbles from your lips. A stupid thing to be sorry over, because Eddie doesn’t even seem to register that small touch, “please go on.”

“Well, I had to start buying the chicken flavored Whiskas. It took me a couple of days to realize the food wasn’t going as fast as it normally does. One morning, on my way to the van, I saw him. Frank was sitting just in the shadows with his little hands held together. I wasn’t watching where I was walking, looking at the way his eyes kind of flickered at me. It was kind of creepy, he looked downright menacing. Just as I made it to the van door, my foot kind of skidded.”

Eddie’s stopped rolling silverware completely. He’s talking with his hands, motioning to show the way his foot slipped. His eyes are wide, as if disbelieving his own story.

“Ok, your foot slipped. What’s that got to do with good ole Frank?” you ask, diverting Eddie’s attention back to you.

“That son of a bitch shit right outside of my van door. And I know what you’re thinking, ‘Eddie, you can’t prove it was the racoon’,” Eddie’s fully mimicking your voice in a rather unflattering way, offering an argument you did, in fact, start churning in your mind, “but that little fucker laughed. Well, it was a squeaky sound that I assume is a raccoon laugh.” Eddie waves his hand as if to shoo the idea of it away, “I know it was him. And I know it was because he doesn’t like the chicken Whiskas.”

“You know? Hmm. Ok, sure. I accept your version of events. Have you tried apologizing?”

“Oh, I apologized. I even started driving to the other side of town to get the salmon Whiskas after 6 straight days of raccoon shit waiting for me outside the van’s door. I even started parking it in a new spot, but there it was - more shit.”

“Oh, I’d like to meet Frank, he seems tenacious,” you say absently, not thinking about what meeting Eddie’s raccoon friend would entail, “and the cats. I love cats, but my landlord won’t allow them.”

“Well, you should come over and meet them. All of them. Don’t worry, I flea treat the cats once a month, and I had them all fixed.”

Eddie’s invitation is something that’s never been done before. He has invited you to do something with him outside of work. You open your mouth to respond, you have no idea what will come out, when the bell at the front door jingles.

It’s the first customer you’ve seen in 2 hours, and Eddie’s gone back to the kitchen before you have a chance to realize the invitation was never accepted. It just hangs there, over the silverware tray.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #linecook!eddie munson

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areislol · 4 months

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men i trust

ft— various male genshin x gn! reader

warning — mutual pining (?), smitten men, fluff, modern! au, mentions of sex (it's a party/club), mentions of drugging/spiking drinks, mentions of a junkie

a/n— they're the men you can trust fr, another shitpost of mine....

wordcount. 1.9k

synopsis. an alternative title, them holding your drink at a party.

In the midst of pulsating music and vibrant laughter and chatter at a lively party, you along with a friend you've bought stood next to one another near a couch, dancing to the beat with just a little effort.

The thumping bass and flickering lights seemed to swirl around them as they engaged in a conversation, after a couple of minutes you turned to him with a soft smile.

"Hey, do you mind holding my cup for a moment? I need to go to the bathroom!" you yelled over the loud music and chatter, pointing at your cup to indicate something to him just incase he didn't hear you.

He gave you a swift nod in response, "sure, take your time," he replied, extending his hands to accept the cup. You left him momentarily, weaving through the vibrant crowd toward the bathroom.

He stood by the couch, holding your cup as he eyed his surrounding, silently judging the swirl of people around him that were fucking on the couches.

the overly cautious/chivalrous pal, the type to grip onto that cup like his life depends on it. he will shoot glares to whoever's way if he needs to he is NOT messing around.

he takes the responsibility seriously and might even accompany you to the bathroom to ensure a safe return but since you insisted on going alone, he (reluctantly) let you go alone.

his palm is covering the top of your cup (don't worry he washed his hands) as he watches the people in his area like a guard dog, he won't even hesitate to threaten and fight whoever asks to take YOUR cup with absolutely NO shame whatsoever.

but his aura and built itself scares off people (which is why nobody disturbed the both of you) so he doesn't really have anything to worry about but even so, it won't hurt to be cautious.

he watches the people like a HAWK, it's scary actually. to see someone already (somewhat) intimating watching their every move, it ruined their vibe. but if ruining the vibe to make sure no creep does anything to him and your drink then so be it, not like them scurrying away will affect him in any way.

he treats your cup like it's precious jewel, so what if you could go get another if he accidentally dropped it? (he didn't, somebody bumped into him CURSE THEM which resulted into him dropping it by how big the impact was) so what if it was just a cup? it's YOUR FIRST cup!!!

oh did i mention how they won't hesitate to threaten and or fight somebody? oh well they would if they have to, not that they WANT to but the thought of a free man roaming around and spiking people's drinks doesn't sit right with him, what if you were a victim? he would never forgive himself if that ever happened.

which is why he always accompanies you to parties/clubs and nearly EVERYTIME you go out. not that you're complaining though

"hey, you there. pass me that cup.. ya know, from a guy to a guy, eh?" a drunkard 'pst'ed at him, eyeing the cup in his hand that he knew was yours. the drunkard really didn't think he couldn't see the shameless stares he was giving at you, did he?

he only glared at the drunkard (who by a coincidence looked like a junkie as well, it really pulled the pieces together), his eyes narrowing at him. he stayed silent, not wanting to even speak to him and answer, he wasn't worthy anyway.

as the drunkard kept on persisting and was inching closer and closer to him he knew enough was enough and would not allow that man to take one step closer to him and your cup (i mean it held your favourite soda so). "take one more step and i swear you will not live to see another day." the man, clearly confused and scared, stopped in his tracks.

"oh you're their boyfriend, uh? .... that shouldn't matter. you know what to do to help a man in need right? no need to threaten me!" the drunkard let out the most disgusting, vile laugh he had ever heard. he was now irritated. "you think i'm joking huh? would you still think i'm joking if i fought you right now?" his tone was sharp and lethal, he was not having any of it.

that man dare would spike your drink and even shamelessly ask him (not your boyfriend sadly) to pass you your cup? abso-fucking-not. before he knew it the drunkard was on the ground, and although drunk and dazed, was pleading for him to not have mercy on him. "p-please! have mercy on me i swear on my life to never do that ever a-again p-please!" it was a funny sight to say the least, to see him cry and beg for mercy. as he should.

"you better swear on that life of yours, if i ever see you in here asking another man to spike someone's drink you bet i'm beating your ass again. and i promise i won't let you live to see the light."

— ALHAITHAM, WRIOTHESLEY, capitano, diluc, WANDERER, pierro, DAINSLEIF

the reliable one, he is never drunk, barely really. even if he did drink he knew how to control it, he makes sure he's sober when being with you!!! he's fierce when protecting your cup and tries to be friendly/passive but if he needs to be, he will be violent, sigh... they were asking for it.

you know your cup is in safe hands. he is trustworthy and reliable when it comes to protecting your things when you ask for it.

he is positive that nothing will happen, for the couple of hours you've been there no trouble has stirred in the club so he was sure that nothing would happen as he patiently waited for you.

he sits up straight on the couch, holding the cup with his hands, his foot tapping on the ground. as he waits he notices from the corner of his eye someone scooching closer to him. at first he wasn't worried although he was a little on edge but you know, nothing much. but when they got too close for comfort he moved to the side, now focusing on the man.

"uhm, if you could please not come so close to me, thank you." he tried to polite, not wanting to anger the man. he looked sober, so he wasn't drunk nor on drugs. "why not, young man? hey whad'ya say..." his gaze drops to the cup in his hands, he immediately clenched the cup, creeped out. "$10 for that cup?"

"... you.... you do realize that this isn't mine right? why do you want the cup anyway?" at this point he wanted to walk away and never see him ever again but he was in too deep now, plus, he needed to wait here for you. the man chuckles and dismisses his question. "you needn't worry young man, take it or leave it."

without any hesitation he immediately refuses his offer. "no." his answer was blunt and cold, he wasn't messing around. the man slowly backed away upon hearing his tone, grumbling about how men these days don't take the bait.

he takes their role as the holder of your drink very seriously. you can trust that he'll keep a keen eye on it until your return.

but.. if by any chance they are drunk and the only person you trust to hold you drink, you still have faith in him of course! but to be honest when they're drunk they're a little bit... too much so it's okay, nobody will dare to come and talk to him.

— TIGHNARI, KAVEH, xiao, ZHONGLI, THOMA, pantalone, kazuha, AYATO, baizhu, albedo, gorou, NEUVILLETTE

the photographer guardian, they're armed with their phone and take a snapshot of your drink, proclaiming themselves the official cup guardian. they protect your drink yet ensure you have a visual record of your drink's momentary protector.

when he sees that your back is towards him he wastes no time in taking out his phone and snapping a picture of the cup before taking a selfie of him holing the cup to his face, just barely covering half of his face. he took many photos to say the least.

he posted it on his instagram story as well, to the poor soul's finger, take it easy on yourself as you vigorously tap on the screen to get rid of all of his stories.

and the captions? my god the captions. "haha guess who's the cup guardian rn?" "?!?!?! i wonder whose cup this is..." "look at me and this cup, wow... i'm like guarding it so hard rn"

what did "guarding it so hard" mean? no idea. obviously he takes his job seriously as well, but why not have a little fun? i mean you trust him of all people to hold your cup, to protect your cup from being tampered with. so yes, of course he will protect it with his life! if anyone was to come too close for comfort and eye your drink suspiciously, even just a little glance at your drink will put him on high alert.

he tries not to ruin his vibe at the club and refrains from arguing with the person but will not hesitate to throw hands if necessary!! he mumbles under his breath about how annoying this woman was, she randomly walked up to him and began to flirt with him in the hopes of inching closer to him and then maybe spike your drink.

trust me, he has a lot of experience with these types of people, people who flirt or make small talk in order to get closer to the person and then spike the drink without them noticing, unfortunately many people fall for their trick.

"ah, no. what are you trying to do? do you take me for someone stupid?" he's clearly offended that this person thought that they could really trick him. "you really think flirting with me will do you any good? spiking drinks are we?" he tsks, glaring at the woman. she scoffs and gets up from the couch and walks away angrily, her plan had failed.

when you come back and see him taking photos of him with your cup he immediately puts his phone away and acts like he did nothing. "huh? photo? pfffffff WHAATTT no never. no." you know he's lying. like c'mon you LITERALLY caught him in the action.

but please ignore all the notifications on your phone where he mentioned (@ed) you in the pictures he took, it was stupid, yes.

— CYNO, CHILDE, dottore, kaeya, LYNEY, heizou

begins to act feral and barks.. i mean it works so... that's all that matters right?

.... honestly, don't even ask me why or how. they saw one tiktok of someone barking at a man to scare them off and it worked so why not try it out? the second the suspicious man begins to make small talk with him (he looked around 40 years old, a junkie? mayhaps) he doesn't pay too much mind, if anything he exchanged a couple of words

but when he senses that something is off he tries to steer away from him, pointing at random things and trying to get the man to focus on another thing but alas, it did not work. he would do everything to keep your cup safe, so even though his way of keeping your drink safe is a bit silly he only means the best.

"WROOF BARK MEOW GRRRR" oh my days the attention he brought to himself when he began to bark? hello? it's so embarrassing but aye, it worked! the man, clearly terrified now began to back away and cursed at him. "you weirdo!" he yelled before running off. he only laughed it off, yes, he had no shame.

— ITTO, VENTI

note: i just woke up and i forgot i needed to write (9 am help)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: not proof read so if you found any spelling/grammar mistakes PLEASE tell me

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hattersarts · 7 months

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okay im doing cringe (yes i am free but this is still category cringe even if i don't feel it) and putting the most homoerotic images of jeeves and bertie in a read more cut bc i cannot STAND to be looking at these pictures alone anymore.

also the wink wink potential of pg wodehouse being either gay or sympathetic and bertie never marrying and fry being part of this production of J&W sends me into tail spins bc like everyone knew right. anyway.

first is this insane moment???? hello???????? handing drink and then sitting down to play with a man (also lilies?????????? like it didnt mean anything for the set designer but NOW?)

this cap in particular makes me loose my mind bc it implies jeeves putting flowers in bertie's button holes in public is just a normal thing that he does (like i know its his job but....this is like, out in the open? your fixing your y.m.'s flower? okaaayyyyyy)

bertie in full grooms fit standing in the church next to jeeves being like the last scene of the series????? HUH???????????

okay this one is obvious but ALSO the plot of "we much pretend to be TWO PALS, TO FRIENDS, COMRADE WHO LIVE TOGETHER" was prime fic territory and delightful.

idk something about this.

and now follows the promo pictures that will haunt me to my grave of images you'd find going through an old family album with the explanation of "this is an image of my great uncle and the man he lives with and spent the rest of his life, they were good friends" meanwhile your queer ass sat there like. yeah they were in love and fucking, good for them.

anyway thanks for reading

#jooster #jeeves and wooster

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shotmrmiller · 10 hours

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damn ok but before uf!konigs big arse makes an appearance, i need reader to get spicy. it's out of the norm, you're usually pretty collected and tend to only snap your teeth at johnny because he's a fucking creep simon, don't leave me here alone with him

but now everyone's feeling your wrath, even john who you never snarl at because you know your place in the food chain so late one night, simon comes out of the shower, drying his hair only to spot you pacing in the kitchen, mumbling to yourself and he thinks that's quite enough.

whatever the fuck that is ends now.

he corners you, literally, and cages you in with his arms on either side of you.

what the fuck is your problem? (simon, while a killer, knows so much better than to say what other idiots would.)

you avert your eyes, looking over his shoulder, flicking your gaze up to the ceiling, your feet-- anywhere that isn't him because his sunken eyes are gonna slice through whatever lie you're about to spin up.

look at me.

he grabs you by the cheeks hard enough that your lips puckering slightly.

talk.

how are you to tell him you're sexually pent up! you forgot to pack your toy when moving out and now you're stuck with just your fingers and it isn't doing the job--

that it?

oh, man. you said that out loud. you're so out of sorts you can't tell when you're thinking and when you're talking. and what the hell does he mean that it?

he tells you that the both of you are fixing that up today, to take of your bottoms or he'll tear them off you himself and to sit on the bloody couch.

legs open. wider. what're you blushin' about? you're mine anyway. is it johnny? he's stayin' out f'the nigh', go' some business with price. hands on your pretty cunt. go on. do it or i will.

good. touch your-- why are ya wincin'? is it dry? here, gimme ya hand.

simon's saliva has been pooling in his mouth since he saw your naked sex.

try it now. good? good. now let me see how you touch yaself.

*wheeze*

simon being a pal and not pointing out how you obeyed him without question because if you don't know that you like to be ordered about, he ain't telling ya.

oh my god the walk of shame to prices office the next day once simon wrings out all of your ire with his fingers. the stare he gives you when you mumble out an apology. the once over he gives you before shifting his gaze over to simon, who's throwing down with kyle in the ring.

right. not an issue, love. next time you're tha' irritable, you can come to me.

simon didn't hear that but laswell did, and she pulls you to the side telling to not, under any circumstance, tell simon what john just said to you.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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toastedkiwi · 6 months

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100 Yard Sprint

Summary: you want to play catch on the football field with Travis.

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Pen Pal!Reader

Travis couldn’t help but smile. The letterman is quite big on you. Your small hand is gripping his. You’ve stolen his designer glasses from his game day fit. You’ve got a bounce in your step. He could contribute it to the booze you had up in the suite and just the excitement of being on the field with him to pass a football around.

He took you through the tunnel out to the somewhat bare field. There’s guys cleaning up the sidelines- a reporter and his cameraman wrapping up. A couple various groups of fans still hanging around taking their time.

“Alright, Jerr,” Travis said as the two of you stepped into the end zone. “Here’s the end zone.”

“You gonna throw me the ball?” you asked. “And then I’m gonna do a touchdown?”

“Yes, baby,” he said.

“Shouldn’t Mahomes be throwing it?” you teased.

“I can throw you the ball from ten feet away, Jerry,” he said backing up. “Just get into the spot you want.”

You stood right on the line and got into a defensive position.

“Oh wait, you’ll need my helmet,” he said walking back to you.

Travis carefully took the sunglasses off and you looked right up at him. He wore them instead and placed the football in your hands before crowning you. He took off the baseball cap and wore it himself but backwards. It didn’t fit quite right.

He finally let you dawn his helmet. It’s a bit too big for you but it’s adorable especially with you smiling up at him.

“I’m ready, Coach,” you said.

“Sure you are,” he smiled stepping backwards. “You’re cute, ya know.”

“Cute as a mouse?” you asked.

Travis laughed, “that’s in your name, Jerry!”

He walked back to the ten yard line. You stood at the edge of the end zone. You got into a defensive position.

“2- 42, 28,” Travis called out getting ready to throw the ball. “HIKE!”

He threw you an easy ball. You managed to catch it. You immediately started running away from the end zone behind you.

“INTERCEPTION, BITCH!” you yelled running past him.

“Wha—? Shhhhiiiit,” Travis said spinning around.

You’ve got a full blown sprint going. He started running after you. He couldn’t believe how fast you’re going. The determination you have is unmatched.

Travis watched as you got to the end zone and launched that football against the turf. You then celebrated with one of his own touchdown celebration dances. He laughed. He ran up to you, wrapped his arms around your waist, and lifted you off the ground. He spun you around.

“LETS GO, BABY!” Travis exclaimed.

You laughed clutching the back of his red undershirt.

“Congrats, Pretty Girl, you scored your first touchdown,” he said.

“Do I- Do I get a trophy?” you asked breathing hard.

“I’ll find you one,” he said carefully letting you slide down.

“The Lombardi?” you asked with doe eyes.

“Give me some time. I gotta get the team to the Super Bowl,” Travis said.

“Okay,” you said.

“Let’s go to the locker room,” he said.

“I don’t think I can walk,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” he said. “Lemme grab you your winning football.”

Travis quickly went off and fetched the ball. He got back to you.

“Piggyback ride?” He asked.

“Please!” you exclaimed.

He crouched down just enough for you to hop on. You clumsily got on. He stood up hooking his arms under your knees. Your arms went around his neck. He started making his way back down the field to the tunnel.

“Your helmet kinda stinks,” you said.

“Well, I did play in it today, Jerry,” he said.

“Gross,” you mumbled.

Travis chuckled. He happily carried you all the way back to the locker room.

Once by his cubby/locker, he let you slide off of his back. You stumbled a bit but he was quick to stabilize you.

“Sit down, Baby,” Travis said softly.

You sat down on the bench and he gave you the football to hold. He took off his helmet for you and placed it on the shelf. He took off his sunglasses, gloves, and the baseball cap. They were placed on the shelf. He carefully fixed your hair.

“You’re hot,” you said.

Travis grinned, “you’re not so bad yourself, Jerr.”

He leaned down and tilted his head. He leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. He felt you smile. One of your hands found his bearded cheek. You’re pulling him closer. He’s lucky that it’s an empty locker room.

“You’re trouble, Y/n, ya know that?” Travis said pulling away.

You gave a dopey smile reminding him that you’re still very much intoxicated.

“I’m gonna take a shower and get changed-,” he told you.

“Can I join you?”

“No, Jerry, I’m not gonna get in trouble because of you,” he said. “You’re gonna sit right here. I’ll be quick.”

“Can I have your phone?” you asked.

“Yeah but don’t be causing trouble,” he said.

You gasped offended. Travis chuckled and found his phone in one of his bags. He unlocked it for you and gave it to you. You, without any hesitations, called his mother while he took off his cleats.

“You little asshole,” Travis said shaking his head.

You giggled.

“Momma, don’t listen to her!” he exclaimed the second he heard his mom say ‘hello.’

“Excuse me?! I’m trying to have a conversation here,” you slurred.

“You’re telling on me to my own mother!” he said.

“I would never!” you lied straight through your teeth.

Donna laughed hearing her son bicker with you. She can’t wait until she sees the two of you getting married. She’ll tell this story at the wedding.

#travis kelce x pen pal!reader #travis kelce imagine #travis kelce x reader #travis kelce #travis kelce x you #travis kelce x y/n #travis kelce x female!reader #travis kelce fanfic #nfl fic

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l0serloki · 3 months

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Yo! Can I ask for Cypher, Gekko, and Sova x reader who loves affection? As in, they love head pats, and when they get hugs they will just snuggle and melt? The gender of the reader doesn't matter. Thanks! 😊

Affection!

(Cypher, Gekko, Sova)

masterlist

Cypher :

Cypher wasn’t used to getting such affection before you. And now he doesn’t want to ever live without it.

He will constantly try and convince you to come sit in his office so he can snuggle with you as he ‘researches’.

He loves nuzzling into your neck and feeling your hands pat around his face as he feigns his attention to his computer.

He even makes not so subtle nudges when you try to stop. If you tease him he will eventually ask why you quit.

“Where do you think you are going, little bug?” Cypher’s voice rang out as you squirmed in his lap. Your arms wrapped back around his neck as you looked up.

“Nowhere, just getting more comfy.” You smiled as your hands worked at his taut muscles. A soft sigh left his mouth as he relaxed against his work chair. Cyphers head leaned down to rest in the crook of your neck as he continued to type away at his computer.

After a bit you laid your hands to rest as he got more into his work. Within seconds of you taking a break you heard the nerd grunt and peer back at you. You raise an eyebrow and continue to rest against him. He nudges your hand lightly with an awkward cough. You could only laugh at his subtle attempt to ask for more.

“Is that better?” You coo as your hands work around his mask, fingers pressing against the soft flesh of his face.

“Much better.”

Gekko :

He LOVES attention and physical affection. I mean look at how he treats his little pals! You know he has such a loving soul.

He’s always wanting to be next to you, holding your hand, or even in your arms. He will pout if he is not.

Refuses to sleep without you and on nights you’re away on missions and calls so he can at least hear your voice. He makes sure to let you know it’s nothing compared to cuddling. And that you owe him double.

He absolutely melts when you baby him as well. Pinching at his cheeks and rubbing at his head are a major weakness. But he makes you swear not to tell anyone else.

“Babe I’m right here.” Gekko pouted as he watched you pat wingman. Your grin grew as you noticed his ever-growing jealousy.

“Does Wingman not deserve love?” You tease out as you turn over to your boyfriend. His eyes widened for a moment before his lips turned down.

“That’s not what I meant.. Wingman deserves the best. But I do too, babe.” Gekko tries to nudge his way in between the gooey pet and you. You only laugh and Wingman makes a noise as you welcome him into the family hug.

“You’re so needy. Isnt he, Wingman?” You voice and the slime only makes an agreeing sound. Gekko gasps as he smacks at your arm lightly.

“It’s not needy if I am your boyfriend! It’s the tax for being mine! And not cool Wingman! You’re supposed to be backing me up!”

Sova :

Sova loves affection. It helps make him feel grounded and helps him know you’re not leaving.

He completely relaxes and melts in your arms when you hug him from behind. He loves being cradled. Not that he would fully admit it out loud.

He also loves when you play with his hair. He turns into a little golden retriever if you scratch at his head. He can’t help it, it just feels too good!

He loves giving it back as well. He always makes sure to give you reassuring squeezes and some back scratches here and there.

You smiled as you walked into the main hall of HQ. You had just got back from a meeting when you saw Sova standing near the table patching up his drone. Taking the opportunity to strike, your arms wrapped around his torso. A soft gasp left his lips as he looked over at you and tossed his arm around you.

“Dove, you are back early. This is a lovely surprise.” His smile was infectious as his hand rubbed away at your shoulder. You only squeezed tighter against him as you nuzzled into his side.

“Let me finish fixing the drone and then we can go rest. Does that sound good?” Sova questioned and you could only nod. You would never give up a chance to hold your sweet boyfriend in your arms.

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heartfeltcierra · 1 year

Text

Reacting to you making/giving them a friendship bracelet Pt. 2 (Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bartolomeo, Sabo and Law

AN- I hope you enjoy part two of OP character receiving a friendship bracelet! (You can find part one that included Roger, Ace, Shanks, Marco and Doffy here)

MasterList

Characters- Zoro, Luffy, Sanji, Bartolomeo, Sabo and Law

Warnings/Contents-Fluff, All SFW, Mentions of fights, Law's is a little angsty and a bit longer.

I'll be posting a marine version tomorrow night including Koby, Garp, Smoker and Issho

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ More under the cut

Zoro

🍶 Zoro was confused at first but smirked seeing what it said “Best swordsman huh?” “You need to make one for curly brows that says “Dumbest cook.”

🍶 Immediately took that back saying he wants to be the only one you make bracelets for

🍶 He noticed there was some spare room on the bracelet, so he came up with a idea to fill the blank spots

“You were pretty tough.” Zoro said, putting his swords back into their sheath. “I’ll get my girl to add you to my bracelet.”

“Excuse me?” Despite being half dead, the bloody man lifted off of the ground with a rather angry expression. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You see this?” Zoro bends down, showing the man the many beads decorating the bracelet. “They represent my victories, and since I won against you, she’ll add a bead to it.” The man could only give Zoro a baffled look knowing he was now nothing more than a mere bracelet charm. “Anyways, nice fight and all but I gotta go. Which way is the exit?”

“To the left.”

“Thanks.”

“You fool, that's the right!”

(To bad the bracelet doesn’t have a GPS)

Luffy

🍗 Rubber boy was very excited when you gave it to him

🍗Would walk up to strangers to show them saying “Y/N made me this, I bet you're jealous!”

🍗The only person that was genuinely jealous was Sanji

🍗 Tries to take good care of it, note TRIES

“Y/n…..” You look and see Luffy peeking his head into your room with an unusual gloomy look on his face.

“What’s wrong Luffy?” He padded over to you and laid the bracelet, or more like parts of the bracelet in front of you.

“It broke earlier during the fight. ” You knew from his tone he felt bad. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay!” You rummaged through the remains and smiled realizing the damage wasn’t irreversible. “I can fix it.” The frown on your captain’s face was finally replaced by that wide smile you know and love. “I’ll even make it more durable so it’s harder to break!”

“You’re the best.” Luffy nearly sent you to the floor as he snaked his limbs around your body. “Also can you make one for my other wrist?”

“Sure what do you want it to say?”

“Meat.”

(I mean it’s Luffy, what did you expect?)

Sanji

💛-You might as well have proposed to the man

💛- Picks you up immediately and starts spinning saying “We might as well plan our wedding~”

💛- A little bummed to hear you weren’t proposing, but is still eccentric that you made him something

“What kind of fighter doesn’t use his hands?” The beaten looks up at Sanji

“Listen pal, my hands are only meant for two things. For Cooking…” His serious face scrunches up to his signature lovestruck idiot. “And for wearing bracelets made by my dear Y/N-Swan~”

(Please make this man more bracelets)

Bartolomeo

💚 -His soul ascends into the clouds seeing that you made him something (Bonus points if your a straw hat pirate)

💚-Would fall to the ground and cry for a good half hour claiming he was “unworthy.”

💚- But despite loving the bracelet, he NEVER wears it

“Look at what was bestowed upon me.” He proudly holds up a small display case. “A friendship bracelet handcrafted by none other than Miss Y/N.”

The entire Strawhat lovers congregation would ooh and awe at the encased bracelet.

“I could sit all day and bask in the sheer awesomeness.” Bart hits the floor with tears running down his face. “I just…I love her so much.”

“Oh no boss man’s going down!”

“What do we do?!”

“I don’t know, but we better figure something out. Were losing him!”

Luckily after a cold towel and some fanning, the Barto Club was able to revive their green haired leader.

(Please do not make this man any more bracelets , unless you want to send him into a coma.)

Sabo

🎩- You had no idea what you were really getting yourself into

🎩-You know how people flex their engagement rings? Yeah Sabo’s going to do that… a lot

🎩-“Oh this thing? Well my beautiful Y/N hand crafted it for m-“ Would go on and on when literally no one asked 💀💀💀

“Y/N come quick it’s Sabo!” You follow Hack in a full blown panic as he leads you down to the RA’s infirmary.

“Sabo!” You see him lying in one of the beds breathing heavily with a towel on his forehead. “What happened?”

“Y/N….” You rush to his side and he takes your hand in his. “I’m sorry. But…” Tears roll down his face. “I promise I did everything in my power to save it….”

“To save what Sabo?”

“My…..my…..MY BRACELET.”

��.

….

“I’m leaving.”

“Why?” 🥺

“Sabo you literally went into shock, scared everyone half to death and ended up hospitalized , over a bracelet.”

“But it’s not just any bracelet.” He frowns. “You made it for me.”

“And I’ll make you another one.” You playfully roll your eyes. “So tell me what exactly happened to it?”

“To be honest, I burned it off accidentally.” He nervously scratches the side of his head. “I’m still not quite used to my new powers.”

“I see.” You nod. “I’ll see if I can somehow make one that’s fireproof.”

“You will?” The blonde smiles and wraps his arms around you, pulling you down with him on the bed. “I love you so much!”

“I love you too.” You let yourself relax into his hold. “With that being said, can you promise me that you'll never do this again?”

“You have my word not only as the chief of staff, but also as your overly dramatic boyfriend….. that I may do this again.”

(Sabo is a absolute drama queen and you cannot tell me otherwise)

Law

🫀- And the crowd goes mild

🫀- Literally had no initial reaction

🫀- Law would stare at it, then back at you, then back to the bracelet, then back to you

🫀- Poor man is not good at showing his emotions, so bear with him

“Why?” Law gives you a confused look while staring at your labor of love.

“Because I wanted to.” You shrug your shoulders, a little hurt seeing the lack of reaction.

“I see.” Law doesn’t put the bracelet on, instead he puts it in his pocket. “Thank you.” He immediately turns his attention away from you and goes back to working.

“Sure” You turn away with a frown. “I’ll go now, see you later.”

The second you leave the room Law is pulling that bracelet back out of his pocket while sporting the deepest shade of red on his cheeks.

He was so caught off guard and over the moon because of how cute and excited you looked while giving it to him that he completely went brain dead.

But he was now back to his senses and remembered the frown on your face as you left the room.

~~~~

You were laying on your bed sulking when you heard a knock on your door followed by a “It’s me.” You recognize your boyfriend's voice, but you're still hurt from earlier so you don’t reply. Instead you bury your face deeper into the pillow

“SHAMBLES.”

“I didn’t say you could come in…” You spoke into the “pillow” which is now none other than Law.

“You also didn’t say I couldn’t.” His tattooed arms pull you closer into his chest.

“Guess not.” Despite being angry at him, you can’t help but enjoy the closeness. “Is there something that you need, captain?”

“Yes there is actually.” Law says in a matter of fact tone “I have a very important task to assign you to.” You look up at him completely confused. “I need you to make me a bracelet with our jolly Roger on it.”

“You want another bracelet?” You pull back from his hold. “I didn’t think you liked the first one I gave you.”

“I didn't like it, I loved it... see.” You smile seeing the bracelet was in its rightful place on his wrist. “So do you think you can do it?”

“Of course I can.” You jump up from the bed and run over to your desk that was covered in different colors of twine. “I’ll work on it right now!”

Law feels relieved seeing the smile he fell in love with back on your face. Mission accomplished. He was about to leave the room to let you work, but couldn’t help but notice a huge pile of bracelets sitting in a basket on your dresser.

“Damn Y/N you really like making these don’t you?” Law said while rummaging through the bracelets.

“Law, wait!” It was too late, he was already holding the cheesy couples bracelets you made out of self indulgence. “I umm. I just made these for fun..”

“Oh really?” Law smirks while spinning the bracelet around his finger. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll take this one with me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Law nods before throwing the other bracelet into your lap. “And you should wear yours too.”

Law leaves you an embarrassed mess, but at the same time, despite his “cool guy” act, he was just as embarrassed if not more. Why does she have to be so cute???

(Won’t say it out loud, but is loving the fact he now owns a bracelet that say “I ❤️ Y/N”)

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sincerelyyycece · 1 month

Text

my family thinks we're dating.

Accompanied by James Potter as a guest at his family gathering, you find yourself developing newfound emotions for him.

"My family thinks we’re dating," said a voice, interrupting my train of thought. I raised my eyes to see James. "What?" I inquired, raising my brows. "They think we’re dating," he stated again. I notice a couple of silhouettes snickering behind him. I turn around to see his relatives spying on us. James and I were attending his small family gathering. He invited me as a friend because he did not want to go alone, and I figured I would keep him company. They were clearly making every effort to remain undetected while spying on us.

I shook my head and laughed. "Your family's something, huh?" I joked. He mutters. "I knew bringing you here was a bad idea.” I laughed at his reaction. "I see where you got your nosiness from," I joked. He shook his head and buried his face in his hands. "Anyway, why does your family think we’re dating?" I switched the subject. "You’re the first girl I have ever brought to a gathering like this.” My brow furrowed in surprise. "Really? Not even your precious Lilypad?” I teased.

"Nope," he said as he sipped his drink, adding, "I never really saw her as a long-term thing, you know?" I responded with a slow nod. "Besides, it is such a pain." I snorted. "If you loved her, it’s not a pain," I explained. "Yeah, well, I did love her; I just didn’t see her in my future," he explained. "How come you brought me here when we’re not even dating?" I wondered. "I see you in my future," he ends, making eye contact.

I had no idea we were leaning into each other until he abruptly broke the silence with his voice and moved his head away. "You’re my friend, and you’re clearly a part of my future; friendships can last for years," he continues. I swallowed and sat up straight. We were sitting in awkward silence when Euphemia yelled from a distance. "Have some dessert, my dears!" He stands up and takes his cup. "Coming!" he responds. He gave me a look and motioned towards his house. I immediately understood and shook my head. “I’ll have some later.” He nods and walks inside. I drifted off after he left.

I recall his words from earlier, his voice echoing in the back of my mind. Our friendship has been going on for years. I can not see myself feeling anything for James. I creased my brow at the thought. But what if...? My eyes widen, and I shake my head. "Stop, Y/N, stop," I mumbled. "He is your friend! Nothing else!" I chastised myself. "Hey," James called from a distance. I turn to face him. He raised his eyebrows but did not question my actions. "They’re calling you already," James said, motioning inside. "Oh yeah, okay," I said as I stood up and straightened myself. Clear your mind, Y/N. I sighed to myself. I entered his home and smiled at his parents, grateful for their hospitality.

He is nothing more than a pal. You are simply very close friends. There is nothing strange about him taking you to meet his family. He is your friend, I am his friend, and we are friends. That is all there is to it. I considered it sternly. Just…friends. I continued, his words lingering in my mind.

As I joined the lively gathering inside, the aroma of freshly baked desserts filled the air, momentarily distracting me from the whirlwind of thoughts that had occupied my mind just moments before. James's family welcomed me with warm smiles and insisted that I try every homemade delicacy they had prepared.

As the evening unfolded, I conversed with James's family, sharing stories and laughter that echoed through the cosy living room. James and I seamlessly transitioned between the roles of friends and family, and I couldn't help but appreciate the genuine connection we had built over the years.

At one point, James's best pal, Sirius, approached me with a mischievous grin. "You know," he whispered, "you and James make a cute couple." I chuckled nervously, dismissing the notion. "We're just friends, Sirius," I clarified, though his playful expression hinted at a deeper understanding.

The night continued with shared laughter, board games, and the warmth of newfound friendships. As we all gathered for a group photo, James put his arm around my shoulder, and the camera captured a moment frozen in time—a snapshot of friendship and camaraderie.

Later in the evening, James and I sat on the porch, enjoying the cool breeze. The atmosphere was serene, and the distant laughter from inside formed a backdrop to our quiet conversation.

James turned to me with a genuine smile. "Thanks for being here today, Y/N. It means a lot." I returned the smile, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Anytime, James. Your family is wonderful, and I'm grateful to be a part of this." He nodded in agreement, and for a moment, we sat in comfortable silence.

As the night wore on, James walked me to my car, the sky painted with hues of midnight blue. Before I left, he looked at me with a hint of vulnerability. "I hope my family's assumption didn't make things awkward for you."

I reassured him with a laugh, "Not at all. It's just amusing, that's all." But as I drove home, the words lingered in my mind, and I couldn't shake the awareness that the line between friendship and something more had blurred, if only for a moment.

In the days that followed, I found myself reflecting on the evening and questioning the nature of my feelings towards James. Was it just a case of friendly banter from his family, or did it tap into something deeper that I hadn't acknowledged?

As the weeks passed, James and I continued our routine of shared adventures and laughter, and while everything seemed unchanged on the surface, a subtle shift had occurred—one that left me wondering if, perhaps, the boundaries of our friendship were evolving in a way I hadn't anticipated.

#james potter #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader #james potter fluff #james potter x you #marauders #marauders fluff #james potter fic #story prompts #marauders fic #sincerelyyycece

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lowkeyrobin · 1 month

Note

Omg mcyt when their crush asks them out, but the reader is just surprising chill? Like, it's so casual it's insane just a "Hey, you wanna go out sometime?" while scrolling through sm and chillling lmao

oooooo okay okay I see the vision ; thank you for requesting!!

MCYT ; nonchalant ask-out

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you were sitting on the train to go visit some friends for a stream

you were sitting next to the window, facing the back of the train, while he was on the opposite side, also sitting next to the window, although his backpack was perched so he could rest an arm on top of it

you turn to him and just kinda ask as you're passing a field of cows

"you wanna go bowling sometime? like, as a date? it's fine if you don't wanna" you shrug

Tommy just blinks as his cheeks get a little red

"Uh, sure. I mean, yeah!"

you guys get to where you're going and while he's with tubbo, more secluded from you, tells him about it

"y/n like, casually asked me out on the train and I said yes! I don't know what happened, it was so weird"

"they're concerningly laid back about everything, you know this"

"...true"

TUBBO

you were at a conservatory (flower museum basically) and enjoying all the pretty flowers and plants

you turn to him like "Hey, would you ever go out on a date with me?"

he's silent for a moment before he responds

"is there a right answer?"

"genuine question"

"uh... sure"

he just texts Tommy like "bro y/n just casually asked me out at the flower place wtf"

he's slightly concerned but you enjoy the rest of your time at the conservatory and get a bunch of great pictures

RANBOO

you were doing a stream watching flushed away

lots of laughter and fucking around considering you were on the couch sitting next to each other with a camera in front of you

"what is happening right now???"

"hey, Ran?"

"hm?"

"you wanna go to dinner sometime? like a date?"

chat explodes and you're trending on Twitter before he can even respond

"uhm, uh, yeah, sure"

"cool"

they later tweet a "that was unscripted, and weird. y/n is never streaming w me again"

you reply with "yeah, sure pal"

"okay y/ns steaming w me tmr night stay tuned!!"

FREDDIE BADLINU

you guys + harry were making puppets at his place for a little prank, and making your friends into puppets as well

you were making him while he was making Tommy, and harry was making kermit (??), making some conversation for the camera

you're mostly working on the floor next to Harry because the table wasn't big enough for the three of you

you look up and just kinda blurt it out

"Hey, Freddie, you wanna go rollerskating sometime?"

harrys the first to speak "what the hell?"

"sorry, bad time"

"wh-no, actually, I'd love too" Freddie smiles

he later edits that with some music like it's 2019, pixel meme glasses and all

"got a date, wwwww"

NIKI NIHACHU

you were both playing on the qsmp, and taking care of em

niki passed over some food bc you were building something for her and ran out of food

"Hey, niki, would you ever go on a date with me?"

"wh- oh, uh, I mean, yeah!"

"cool"

her chat explodes and so does yours LMAO

ppl clip it and it's a hot topic on qsmp tumblr for a week or so

you tweet after stream "date ideas, GO"

niki responds with "you have to come here first, y/n/n 😭"

ALEX QUACKITY

you were out exploring the city together for a little vlog on your alt channel

you were talking and having a good time and whatnot, exploring stores and restaurants and parks

"hey, Alex, would you ever like, date me, I guess?"

"yeah- I mean, uhm, I guess so"

"cool"

when you guys get back to the hotel he instantly gets on a call w some friends, whom are streaming, and quickly rants about it, leaving you nameless tho

you see the clipped bit on YouTube the next day and can't help but smile cause honestly w move

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #tubbo x reader #alex quackity x reader #quackityhq x reader #mcyt x gn reader

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crazyunsexycool · 4 months

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

word count: 1.0k

Summary: Steve feels a bit insecure as he watches a coworker flirt with you at a party.

Warning: bit of insecure Steve, lil bit of angst

A/N: Here is the 4th part The earpiece!

Steve wanted to act as if he wasn’t a jealous person but he was. It stemmed not from you interacting with other people but from his insecurities. In many ways even when you looked at him and saw just Steve, he was the small kid from Brooklyn who couldn’t ask a dame out to save his life. Then you came along and changed his world, even when he thought he messed up with the whole earpiece incident. He loved you. It wasn’t a sweet innocent love either, it was all consuming and burned wildly in his whole being. So seeing as other men were as captivated by you as he was made his blood boil. A hurricane of doubt and negative thoughts started to form in his head. He questioned if he was worth the effort. Steve couldn’t help but wonder what you saw in him.

It was as if you had heightened senses of your own because suddenly your eyes connect with Steve’s from across the crowded room. You smile at him brightly, your eyes lighting up. Steve couldn’t help but smile back, yet that same pesky feeling bothered him as you turned back to your conversation.

It was only a few minutes. You’d gone to the bathroom and on the way back your coworker stopped to talk to you. But he got to see you every day so Steve couldn’t understand why he had to talk to you during a party too. It didn’t help that this was the same guy that kept flirting with you at any chance he got.

“It’s not a good look on you, pal.” Bucky says as he stops next to Steve.

“What?” Steve looks at Bucky.

“This whole broody, trying to not look jealous thing you got going on.”

Steve scoffs and looks back at you, his jaw clenching when the other man places a hand on your arm which you quickly pulled away. He mutters a curse under his breath as jealousy rears its ugly head. Steve watches as the other man gets too close for your comfort.

“I’ll be right back.” He says before stomping his way over to you.

You felt him before you saw him. The scent from his cologne was comforting as he came up behind you. Steve’s hard chest pressed against your back and you immediately relaxed. Looking over your shoulder you smiled up at him but Steve’s eyes were on your coworker Paul. Sure he was handsome with his dark brown eyes and matching hair but he wasn’t like Steve. You’d heard rumors around the tower about Paul and his slutty reputation. That was something you weren’t interested in experiencing. Besides, you had Steve, he was the most caring person you’d ever met. Why would you trade down?

“Captain, how are you doing?” Paul sends an annoyed look Steve’s way.

“I’m doing great Peter, how about you?”

“It’s Paul actually.”

“Oh.” Is all Steve replies. “I hope you don’t mind but I came over here to steal my girl.”

Paul’s smile fades slowly as his eyes bounce between you and Steve. “But we were having such a lovely conversation. Why don’t you join us?”

“Actually Paul I do need to get going. See you on Monday.”

“Bye, Patrick.” Steve says.

“Come on,” Paul grabs your hand and tries to get you to stay. “We’re having a good time.”

“I’d very much like to spend time with Steve. I’ll see you on Monday.”

“But-“

“You heard what she said, now let her go.”

Steve takes your hand and leads you out to a quiet area outside so that he can finally spend time with you alone.

“What was that about?”

“What?” Steve asks while putting on his most innocent act.

“That whole snippy attitude back there. And don’t give me those doe eyes, I know what you’re doing.”

Steve sits down on a lounge chair and pulls you by your hips so that you’re standing between his legs. He looks up at you like you hung the moon and the stars just for him but there’s uncertainty behind it all. You rest your hands on his shoulders and wait for him to say something.

“I’m sorry. I just hated seeing the way Preston was looking at you and trying to touch you.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that he wouldn’t call him by his actual name.

“Steve, baby, where is this coming from? Did I do or say something to make you feel like this?”

“No, not at all. It’s just me.”

“Baby.” You cup his cheeks and make him look up at you. “I only want you. There is no one else in this world that I would want to be with other than you. Not Captain America or Steve Rogers, the leader of the Avengers. I want to be with Steve, the kid from Brooklyn who gets me flowers just cause and who leaves me little notes and doodles around my office just to make me smile. The Steve who would race to my apartment just to get rid of a spider because I’m scared of them. What do I have to do to make you realize that?”

“Nothing. I just need to remember that you see me for who I am.”

“And that I love you no matter what.”

The words wash over him and they calm the storm he’d been creating in his head. “You love me?” Steve said incredulously.

“Of course.” You smile and nod.

Steve stands and pulls you in for a kiss. He leaves you breathless.

“I love you too.”

You giggle against his lips as you both say those three little words to each other a few more times. Steve pulls away and takes your hand, leading you back in and through the party.

“Where are we going?” You ask with a laugh.

“I’m gonna show you how much I love you.”

When you get to the elevators Steve hits the buttons multiple times. You turn him around and distract him with a kiss. When he pulls back again and looks up he makes eye contact with Paul. With a smirk on his face, Steve palms your ass and kisses you again.

He really didn’t have a reason to be jealous. You love him and he loved you but the angry face Paul made was still priceless.

Permanent taglist:

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@Sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

@talesofadragon

@midnightramyeoncravings

@bunnygirlwriter876

@pandaxnieenke

@kandis-mom

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@braveclementine

#Steve Rogers x reader #Steve rogers #captain America #Steve Rogers x you #Steve Rogers x y/n

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powderblueblood · 5 months

Text

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER FOUR — HOT SKIN and a HALL PASS

PREVIOUS | MASTERLIST | NEXT

summary: rules, you've recently learned, are for breaking– sanity is also, apparently, relative. after making a statement in the cafeteria, you play hooky with eddie in main street vinyl. content warnings: MINORS DNI tension you would need a chainsaw to cut through, farm-to-table snarking, do they even know they're yearning, nancy wheeler i'm sorry i shittalked you again (it will get better i swear) word count: 4k

Dear reader, do you ever feel like you’re completely losing your grasp on reality?

You’ve cruised through life almost seamlessly up to this point. Yours is a well-oiled machine, one you painstakingly built yourself. But do you ever feel like you’ve spent so much time constructing something so carefully that it doesn’t make sense to you anymore?

Like you can’t see the forest for the trees, or the treason for the thrill.

Do you ever want to light your whole life up in flames, just to see what’s really fireproof?

“So, which is it?”

You’re standing at your locker, making a bad job of touching up your now-flaking under-eye concealer when a voice rings out from the other end of the hall. It bounces off the cool metal of the lockers, the tack of the linoleum. It makes your shoulderblades go tense.

“Has little Lacy been hiding a pair of brass balls this whole time, or is she on a suicide mission?”

You’d roll your eyes, but your face is aching.

“Showing up with me this morning would have been one thing, but sitting yourself at my little table of outcasts? At lunch? The most important social event of the day?”

Munson lets out a low whistle from where he leans, a couple of lockers up from yours.

The hallway is deserted save for the both of you; you, out on a forged hall pass and him, probably just ditching to ditch. You peer at him from behind your locker door. He’s standing slanted in a long, lithe line made bold and jangly by his carefully curated metalhead armor.

You, and this comes with a hefty dose of begrudgery, have to hand it to him– he leans great.

“Talk about blowing up your reputation beyond repair.”

You know he’s making fun of you– he’s not exactly subtle about it, nor is he about anything. It’s all in the lilt of his tone, how ridiculous he thinks the interwoven politics of the cafeteria are, how dumb he thinks you are for considering that in the least bit important.

Munson’s idea of survival in high school is attacking conformity with a nuclear bomb, whereas yours is a little more artful.

“I know this might be hard for you to comprehend, Munson,” you sigh, and the sound rattles through your ribcage– you are tired, tired of him, “given that your understanding of object permanence has clearly been stunted at an infantile level, but the world does not revolve around you."

"No?!" he croons, sarcasm slicking out of him.

"I was catching up with Ronnie.”

“Right, because you guys have been such good gal pals up to this point,” Munson scoffs.

His face, framed by those wild waves, materializes in the reflection of your locker’s mirror, peering over your shoulder. You slam the door and pivot to face him properly, impact ringing out like a gunshot.

He does a little jump, a shadow of his shock at you on Harrington’s porch.

That reaction is like a shot of espresso straight to the veins.

Good. Be afraid. Asshole.

You're sure as fuck awake now!

“Lab partner love never dies,” you say, leveling his stare. “You’d know that if you showed up for Biology once in a while.”

“Maybe I need a tutor. I could use someone to help me brush up on anatomy.”

“Sorry. I don’t teach remedial.”

“Maybe you should start. Rehabilitate your image.”

“Again, who died and made you my parole officer?”

His expression cracks; a gasp of a laugh. “Oh, so you remember all that?”

“My hippocampus is alive and kicking.”

“Your hip– what?”

Your lips purse, and just as you’re about to throw another verbal dart at him, the voice of Ms O’Donnell cuts through the both of you.

“I hope you two have a damn good excuse for loitering in this hallway– because if not, Mr Munson, I believe you’re less than one detention away from suspension.”

Munson’s got this terminal disease where he’s more smarm than charm, despite his warped perception of himself. There’s no way he’s going to handle this with the grace that’s necessary, because O’Donnell hates him anyway.

He keens his head in the teacher’s direction, ready to roll out some useless excuse.

Before he’s even got the chance to speak, you cut him off.

“Hall pass, Ms O’Donnell.” You flash the fake yellow slip at her, careful to obscure the names– you’ve usually got one of these forgeries to hand, just in case you need it, and teachers generally trust you enough not to check them out. It comes with the whole work-life balance you’ve been treading for the entirety of your high school career; you’re well-liked and you’re maintaining an impressive grade point average. They don’t give a shit what you do other than that.

“The Weekly Streak has run into a printer snag and Nancy Wheeler’s car is on the fritz. Eddie,” his first name, which you never ever use, feels weird and heavy on your tongue, “offered me a ride to the printers to make sure it gets worked out– it’s a big issue. What with the game this weekend and everything.”

O’Donnell’s eyes narrow. You nudge Munson right in his funny bone– hard enough for him to wince.

“Right?”

“Right! That big game. Front page news, Ms O’D. Gooooo Tigers.”

The teacher clicks her tongue against her teeth, her rock hard stare challenging the delinquent beside you– it’s entirely likely that Munson could have blown it for himself just by virtue of being alive and in O’Donnells sight line, but you know she’s got no reason not to believe you.

See, your reputation at the school newspaper precedes you; it’s just about the only thing that really holds your interest within the monotonous structure of Hawkins High. With your finger on the pulse of Hawkins’ student body, it only makes sense that you serve as a fierce and unforgiving editor of the Streak’s society pages– funnily enough, that hardline professionalism included never giving Munson’s infamously lame Dungeons and Dragons club a single mention in them.

Vetoed, you’d drawled at one of the more well-mannered members that had shyly approached you about writing a piece. Not Ronnie– she knew better than that.

How come? they’d whined, as their fearsome leader glowered near the lockers just like he was doing now.

On grounds of irrelevance. I’m not wasting valuable inches on a make believe board game club.

This activated Munson. Lacy, you wouldn’t know valuable inches if they rammed you in the–

“Make it fast,” O’Donnell decrees, and you feel her watch you as you take off down the hallway. With a snappy quirk of your painted fingers, you gesture for Munson to follow your lead. And you better believe he does, almost tripping over his ratty Reeboks trying to keep in step with you.

You both heave open the double doors, squinting against the unseasonable late autumn sunshine. Heels of your ankle boots clicking against the concrete, you make an unconscious beeline for the parking lot– for Munson’s van.

“So– what now?” he asks, dur-dur dumb as all hell.

“What now is I just got you a free pass to play hooky,” you say, little miss cactus flower, prickly with annoyance. You shield your eyes against the blazing light. “Weren’t you ditching anyway?”

“Yeeaaah,” Munson hums, scratching the back of his head, “But… the plan kind of was to smoke a joint and go to the record store.”

“Doesn’t sound like a complete waste of time,” you hear yourself saying before you realize it, yanking at the van’s passenger door. You pause, raising an expectant eyebrow at Munson. Isn’t this your cue?

Baffled, bewildered, but grinning despite himself, he extends that silver ringed hand and helps you haul your ass into his beat up chariot.

Completely losing your grip on reality.

–

It’s a fugue state. It’s an out of body experience– you’re watching yourself from outside your corporeal form and you have no logical control over what you’re doing.

That’s the only way to explain why you’re standing in Main Street Vinyl, elbow to elbow with Eddie Munson.

But that might also be the weed talking.

You don’t know where the hell he gets this stuff, but it’s strong– way stronger than the shit he’s sold to your friends ever since he started dealing. Well, you guess it makes sense that he’d keep the good shit for himself. You’d do that too, if you were him.

What if I was him, you idly wonder, peering up at him as he flicks through letters R through T in the metal section. His tongue peeks out of his mouth as his ringed fingers work though the vinyl, carefully considering each one.

This is what you mean by obvious– you, for one, would have the good conscience not to look so stoned while you’re so stoned.

You definitely don’t look stoned right now.

No one can even tell that you’re looking at him, up from underneath those thick lashes of yours.

He’s got thick lashes too, come to think of it.

Munson is actually not completely unfortunate looking– but again, if you were him, there’s no way you’d wear your hair like that. You’d keep it long-ish, though, you think. He’s got a point there; a nice curl pattern. Maybe to your ears. And the clothes obviously have to go– that denim vest is a patchwork disaster. Did he sew all those patches on himself?

A vision of him hunched over the thing with a needle and thread in hand flits through your brain, pricking himself more than he can pick up a stitch. He’s gone out of his way to make himself look like this– kind of similar to the way you pick up your skirts so they’re always impeccably just short enough.

Now, the leather jacket you could forgive if at least the collar was different. Maybe one of those Brando-style biker jackets, you could rock that. Or a brown leather number, to bring out your eyes– which are his eyes, of course, his crazy dark empty universes of eyes.

The kind of eyes with the kind of stare that nails you in place and makes you want to do crazy shit like ditch class and get loaded and stand dumbly in a record store. Those eyes.

That are staring at you. He’s staring at you. Right back at you.

“I can read your mind,” Munson monotones, unblinking.

You go flush, heat crawling all the way up to your ears. “Wh–what?”

Then he nudges you and snorts, breaking the spell.

“You have gotta stop thinking such dirty thoughts about me, ice princess. You’re gonna melt.”

You scoff, shaking your head– but the cartoonish move is more to ground you in reality than a reaction to him and his idiocy. You’re Wile E Coyote after blunt force impact with an Acme anvil, shaking the circling birds away.

“They don’t even have what I’m looking for here.”

Stalking around the stacks of records, with no clear direction in mind, you feel Munson’s laser stare follow you. “Yeah, they don’t usually file Madonna next to Motörhead, Lacy.”

They’re both filed under M, aren’t they? is what you want to say. “I don’t listen to Madonna,” you protest instead, all quietly miffed and earnest with a crinkle in your brow.

“Mm, don’t think that’s true,” Munson smirks, rounding on you around the rack. “You gave me a pretty spot on rendition of Like a Virgin– or does your hippocrampus not recall?”

“Hippocampus,” you breathe out, but it’s lost in the din of Main Street Vinyl’s quiet, carpeted atmosphere, “I don’t listen to her, like, recreationally. I can’t help if that song’s an earworm.” A beat. “I also can’t help if you’re a particularly serenadable virgin.”

“She’s gonna touch me for the very first tii-iime…”

“That was a threat.”

You make an active attempt toward tunnel vision as you slowly tread through the store, feeling the high starting to turn on you– this was the part smoking weed that you hated, the few times that you’d imbibed in it. That lack of control over the way you were coming across. For a girl trained in the art of saying all the right things, this was dangerous. Your tongue felt both loose and heavy in your mouth, like it could come out with anything and you couldn’t stop it, it’d just roll on out.

The malevolent presence of Munson and your pathological need to one up him wasn’t helping matters.

Ever since the parking lot at school, you’ve been stalking around like there’s a target on your back. Evidently, you’re not the kind of girl that chills out when you smoke, which is equal parts a relief and a disappointment to Eddie. He wonders what you’d look like, mellowed out and floating. Your eyebrow unarched and your lips not poised for attack.

He’s also acutely aware that he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with you then, either.

But he can’t tear his eyes away from you, a hyperfocus that he’s assuming is a symptom of his own buzz. Every little twitch and jump you do– it’s like it’s begging him to pay attention. Like if he looks away for even a second, he might miss something.

“What are you looking for?” he asks, eyes trained on you while you thumb through the records.

As much as you love music, and you do, you have a tough time describing exactly what you want to listen to. The notes in the songs that you revisit again and again read more like physical feelings, sparking off in your nerve endings. For example, listening to River by Joni Mitchell feels like something heavy is sitting on your chest. Listening to Hong Kong Garden by Siouxsie and the Banshees feels like you have fairy lights at the end of your fingertips.

“I want something that sounds…” you say, noticing the distinct feeling of cottonmouth setting in, “Ticklish.”

“Ticklish,” Munson deadpans back at you.

“Something that sounds like someone’s running a xylophone mallet down my spine.”

He regards you for what feels like an excruciatingly long timewith this terrible, awful look on his face– brows ticked up over his glassy bloodshot eyes, pink mouth peeling into a grin, and this look, this look of wonderment. Like he can’t believe you’re real, and you’re here, and you’re saying shit like this to him.

Join the club.

“... You don’t get stoned a lot, do you?”

“Ugh!” you groan, a little louder than you mean to– the cashier shoots you a glare as you stalk past Munson, stalk past him, cheeks flaring pink. “I know what I’m talking about. I know it when I hear it– I heard a record just like that earlier this year! It’s like, some band from Scotland or something? Totally incomprehensible lyrics, yeah, but that’s what it felt like. It was like… bone deep.”

You hear Munson emit the teeniest hehe! and you just about snarl at him over your shoulder.

Rounding on the alternative section, limited as it is, you feel a welcome sense of familiarity. You haunt this corner when you can, when you’re out of sight from prying eyes. There’s only one other regular purveyor of this little corner of Main Street Vinyl that you know of. You trace a thumb over the spines of the cassette cases–it’s mostly tapes, rarely ever records because tapes are easier to import and harder to damage, and it’s always haphazardly organized–and then you spot it.

Victoriously, you thrust it in Munson’s face, which is right over your shoulder. He’s frequenting that spot a lot recently. “Ha!”

“Oh!” he chirps, sounding almost pleasantly surprised and plucks the tape from your fingers. “... Cocteau Twins?”

You falter, eyelashes flickering as you look up at him. Dammit. He even pronounced it right.

“You know them?” You hate how high your voice sounds.

He runs a thumb over the plastic casing, edging a little closer to you. That came outta left field.

“This shit… sounds like what a haunted music box would sound like.”

Aaand we’re back in the room.

“Okay…?”

“This is creepy, cursed doll music.”

And the room is filled with assholes.

“Alright.”

“This is what you hear right before you’re about to get possessed by the ghost of Tiny Tim. The whiniest little bitch ghost of all time.”

And all the assholes are named Eddie Munson.

“I get it.”

“You better be careful with this stuff, Lacy-Wacy,” he teases, mocking that fraudulent concern ripped straight from an episode of Donahue. He taps the cassette case against your forehead. “Music like this is a gateway drug. A gateway drug to hanging out with, like, Jonathan Byers.”

You reach out and grab his wrist, tugging his hand and that damn tape away from your face. You’re shocked to find that the skin under your fingers is blazing hot–same as you felt through his shirt when he helped you to the door in your drunken stupor.

Does he always run this warm? you wonder. Is it all that Satanic poseur poison coursing through his stupid veins?

“Well, it’s a little late for that,” you tell him, and you’re not quite sure why. Probably because every secret you swore would die with you is slowly but surely punching its gnarly hand from the grave, like fucking Carrie from fucking Carrie.

Munson doesn’t even express any overt shock, like he’s learning to roll with the punches of you revealing bits and pieces of yourself through sheer annoyance with him. He just cocks his head, challenging you with a silent, Really?

This chick. This blink-and-you’ll-miss-it chick.

“I ran into him in this corner a lot,” you explain breezily, tilting a shoulder up like it doesn’t bother you, like it’s never bothered you. “We’d always be standing next to each other at the listening booths, and I’d be listening to stuff I couldn’t take home and he’d be listening to stuff he couldn’t afford to buy and… We like a lot of the same music. We went out on like, one date if you could even call it that, and it didn’t work out.”

“Because he’s a creepazoid?”

“Because he was hip deep in it for Nancy Wheeler,” you supply, a green monster gurgling in the pit of your stomach. “Like every other respectable member of the male species.”

It was the summer before junior year, a punishingly hot one even by Hawkins standards. You’ve never been good in the heat and that summer made your entire body feel ill-equipped, your skin ill-fitting. Main Street Vinyl had those big, big box fans right near the cash desk which was right near the listening booths, so you would spend the majority of your time there when you weren’t being forced to the lake or Skull Rock with your friends.

Jonathan would look at you with alarm at first, like you were trespassing. Then he’d spy what you were listening to and sneak these small, shy smiles at you that you indulged in– at first, because you weren’t copping a lot of male attention from anyone else that summer. Eventually, it was because his shadowy eyes were always ringed with this tenderness, with knowing. Like you two were sharing a secret. It made you be able to look past the greasy hair and crippling social awkwardness.

You know you rocked his world the day you breezed past him at the listening booth, leaned in and whispered, I love Linda Thompson's voice, don't you?

But still, the Love’s Baby Soft scented specter of Nancy Wheeler loomed large. You picked what you thought was a secluded spot in the park for your ‘date’, which included a conversation that was almost entirely cruise directed by you. Said conversation completely flatlined when you both spotted Nancy Wheeler cresting a hill, walking her family dog.

At this point, you and Nancy were most familiar with each other from the school newspaper– she, the peachy-cheeked junior, the rising star that was sure to make editor and you, the girl who knew where the parties were happening and where the bodies were buried.

The picture of coquettishness, she offered you and Jonathan an awkward, stilted wave. Jonathan spoke a grand total of three words after she left, zeroing in on the spot where she appeared like a man possessed.

You didn’t acknowledge his existence after that.

It’s not that you were particularly hung up on Jonathan Byers, but you didn’t expect someone like him to be able to elicit that cold sinking feeling you were used to experiencing at the hands of other boys and their ignorance. Maybe it hurt more because you thought you had something in common– something real, something that wasn’t shotgunning a can of Busch. Whatever it was, it made you sure of two things.

You hated Nancy Wheeler, and she wasn’t going anywhere.

You wished you didn’t hate her. But you also wished she’d dissolve into a fine mist.

“Wheeler’s a priss,” Munson pulls you out of memory lane in a harsh left turn, face contorting into a half-grimace. It’s the general consensus on Wheeler– the shoes are too goody for everyone to be falling head-over-heels with her, if you want Eddie’s honest opinion. There’s no there there, not like with–

“I’m a priss.” It sounds like you’re defending her. In some weird way, you might be.

I know what guys like you think of me.

“No, you’re a bitch.”

His weight on the word bitch makes your knees feel unsteady. The way he says it. It’s not enunciated like an insult. It’s a dagger cloaked in velvet. It’s warm, like he is. It’s almost filthy. It makes you look at his mouth.

“You’re a stone cold killer bitch,” Eddie’s voice hums low in his chest. His heartbeat is picking up, and he wonders if you can feel it where your freezing fingertips are squeezing his pulse point, “and I think–”

“You two truant assholes gonna buy anything today or am I gonna have to call the goddamn dog warden on y’all?”

Heaved back into reality by the clerk at the cash desk. A trickle of cold sweat runs from the nape of your neck into the collar of your sweater. Heaved back into reality to see you’re still clutching Eddie Munson by the wrist, and he’s looking at you like you’re the last Popsicle. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day.

It gets so hot here in summer.

“I think,” you breathe as you unstick your fingers from him, suddenly aware that you’re parched and starving and your face hurts, “it’s time for me to go home.”

“I– yeah,” Munson stumbles, also perturbed by the interruption. His red-ringed eyes gain a little more clarity. He’s seeing something you’re not seeing. He shouldn't be letting himself see that. “Let’s go.”

Let’s go back to the van. Let me make you look at me like that again. Let me see if you’re cold all over. I can fix that.

“No, I gotta…” Your head pounding, your thoughts swimming– the sharp and stupid realness of this whole afternoon coming into perfect view. What are you doing? “I need to walk it off.”

He inhales sharply, a strangled chuckle– oof. That other shoe, that buckled heel of yours, clattering to the floor. He should have expected that, right? There’s no way you’d wanna… Because you’re you and he’s…

Eddie retreats back into himself a step or two; it looks like he’s gone all bashful, a little color dropping out of his cheeks. His hands clasping behind his back. His heart is in his big intestine.

“That’s the second time you’ve turned me down today, sweetheart. Keep it up, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you don’t like me.”

Munson, get the fuck out of here before I ban you again! and Jerry, can’t you see me talking to somebody right now! explode in a cacophony, the boy and the keeper of the keys to the record store hollering at each other. You take this moment of interruption to nudge the door open with your shoulder. But you don’t start into the street without giving him one more look.

“Lacy.” He’s grinning this dumb grin, eyes gone soft at the corners.

He’s giving this one last nudge.

Your heart thumps. A reminder– this is really happening. Shit. Fuck.

“That’s the thing, though,” you say, attempting to smooth your expression out with a frosty smile. “I don’t like you, Eddie.”

author's notes: of course, my eternal eternal ETERNAL THANKS for all the love you have shown this story and the anons you've sent!!! writing is crazy so thank you for caring about mine. onto the fun stuff because you know i love a reference: - he leans great. a shameless my so-called life drop but eddie to me is a kind of stunning midpoint between catalano (left back twice) and krakow (would go down on you for days) - someone in the tags said ronnie and lacy should hold hands and i don't disagree. lab partner love never dies! - there's never a bad time to listen to ace of spades by motörhead - there's also never a bad time to listen to treasure by cocteau twins, which is the album lacy is referencing - i always fee like the zombie hand reaching out of the ground motif is unfairly accredited to the living dead franchises or something like that, but of course the most iconic instance to me is from carrie (1976) because women own horror - god, we really need to bring back listening booths in record stores! like we really need to bring them back lest romance die forever. - richard and linda thompson, also forever!!!!! my headcanon for this re: jonathan byers is this particular record is a joyce byers influenced choice. joyce and lonnie loved this record (when they were happy... lol) and played it all the time when jonathan was a baby. their original copy got lost (or destroyed) and sometimes jonathan will play it in the main street listening booth but he won't bring it home because he knows it's painful for his mom. - all my stone cold killer bitches in the house make some noise - jerry from main street vinyl you will always be rob from high fidelity in MY HEART (eddie is barry even though he doesn't work there lmao) - ok my hellcats! that's all the cultural education for this chapter!! thanks again for reading, reblog and scream at me in the asks because i so appreciate (and need) the support and i'd also love y'all to send me prompts! don't be shy! i love an in-universe blurb!

#published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x f!reader #e. munson by powder

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chickenparm · 1 year

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Bad Decision (Dan Heng/gn!Reader)

how we feelin about honkai star rail, gals and pals? i'm feeling pretty damn good.

anyway dan heng has me by the coochie. this MIGHT get a part 2, and if it does it will involve a reader with female anatomy so just keep that in mind so it isn't a jumpscare.

---

AO3 LINK NEXT PART

Dan Heng/gn!Reader 2,415 Words - NSFW (Accidental phone calls, listening in when you shouldn't, m!masturbation, mild phone sex, awkwardness all around)

Dan Heng never calls.

It’s not that he’s a complete recluse - he’ll message of his own volition, and answer your messages within an instant, so long as he isn’t busy. But unless it’s an emergency, he never, ever calls.

It takes my attention away from other tasks. He explained once, when March brought it up. His habit of delivering his sentences lends itself more to if someone were reading from a dictionary, rather than explaining interesting facts about themselves. Facts that you squirrel away and covet, because you have a bad habit of making bad decisions, and Dan Heng is a very bad decision waiting to be made.

Because there’s no universe where it would be a good idea to have the sort of feelings for him that you do. Sickening, clawing, creeping up your back and behind your rib cage every time he glances at you from the corner of his eye to share a look with you for any number of reasons. March’s antics, a frustrating informant, a quiet second after a quick brawl where he makes sure you’re unharmed.

Maybe it’s for the best that it’s just you and March on this scouting mission this time. It’s been wrapped up nicely, nothing too out of the ordinary, leaving the two of you to stay in your lodgings for the night before returning to the Astral Express that lingers far above the atmosphere. At least, you tell yourself it’s for the best.

March is a good friend, and will be dear to you always, but there’s a distinctly Dan-Heng-Shaped space next to you that’s been drawing far too much of your attention during your stay on this planet.

It’s with the knowledge in mind that Dan Heng only calls when it’s something important or an emergency, that you sit up in bed when your phone chimes with the ringtone you’d set for him during a bored moment in the parlor car. When he’d humored you for a moment and sat right next to you on those long sofas while you scrolled through each sound you downloaded that reminded you of him.

So, as you scramble for your phone and bring it to your ear, your breath hitches for a moment in panic. Because if Dan Heng thinks something is an emergency, then it’s an Emergency. No sound leaves you at first as you expect him to start speaking immediately, to not mince words, but nothing greets you beyond a quiet, steady rustling sound.

It’s not fabric. Maybe a little wet, like the sound of skin against skin, and something suspicious brews in you as you hold your breath and just listen.

The first real sound you hear is a quiet exhale. At the very end it shakes, as if the owner of such a sound shivers a little. Then, the sound of more rustling, before the sound of Dan Heng spitting. The sound from before returns, and what once was vaguely identifiable is now unmistakable.

Silently, you press your back against the wall the bed is pushed against, your hand over your mouth as you try not to make a single sound. You’re well aware that this is disgusting behavior; Dan Heng is having a private moment. Intruding on him in this way would cause irreparable damage to any sort of relationship you’d been trying to build with him.

But how can you stop? The monarch of bad decisions, making the worst one of all without a second thought. Your eyes stare off, unseeing as you try to imagine what the other end of the line might look like.

Dan Heng is on the Astral Express, there’s no doubt about that. The archives filled with cerulean light from the twisting blue pattern of its flooring, only blocked by the thin mattress of his bed and the books that are scattered around it. Would he be sitting up, curled in on himself while he seeks his pleasure? Or perhaps he would be sprawled across his bedding with his cock in hand and unashamed of what he’s doing.

Dan Heng doesn’t seem the type to be embarrassed by it. Sure, everyone’s done it at some point, but you desperately want to know what he’s thinking as he treats you with another sound. A quiet grunt, his pace pausing for a moment and leaving the line silent before it picks up again and goes even faster. It seems he’s found something he likes.

Another breath, a sharp inhale, then a quiet moan that makes your toes curl and your teeth grit. And you’re not even there. What would he look like if that were your hand stroking his cock, memorizing exactly what he likes so you can drive him to the edge and pull him back from it. Over and over again, teasing him with a release you won’t provide until he’s shaking and flushed and begging for it.

What a pretty sight it would be to have Dan Heng beneath you, looking at you through half-lidded eyes as you lean down and drag your tongue along him. Everything about him is pretty; surely his cock would be as well. Closing your eyes to the darkness of your temporary room, you imagine the arch of his back as he nudges the back of your throat. And through it all he would murmur your name pleadingly, just like he’s doing right now-

You gasp, eyes snapping open. All sound on the other end cuts out, and then a quiet swear before frantic rustling. Then, your name again, this time spoken imploringly and terrified. A question you can’t bring yourself to answer as you press your palm so hard over your mouth that your teeth dig into the soft flesh inside your lips.

No one breathes, no one hangs up. Just a drawn out silence before he says your name again, so much quieter. Almost defeated, just before he nearly whispers, “Why didn’t you hang up?”

Whisper or not, hearing his voice is too much for your suddenly-overworked brain to handle. The phone beeps cheerfully as you hit the end call button and press your palms to your eyes.

Dan Heng’s ringtone sings for you only once more, before the simple ping of a message arriving fills the room. It’s an admonishment, a suggestion for you to not return with March back to the Astral Express. Himeko and Mr. Yang have already been told that you’re a pervert for listening in on Dan Heng’s private moment. Pom-pom is already throwing your luggage into the incinerator as you lay in your bed and wallow.

At least, that’s what you assume, because so far you’re only staring at the blinking yellow light on your phone that indicates you have notifications built up.

For better or worse, Dan Heng is waiting.

With shaking fingers, you lift the device. The facial recognition kicks in immediately, even in the dark, and you’re left staring at the home screen with a few icons, two of which have notifications. One for a missed call, one for a direct message. Foregoing the call, you open whatever it is that he has to spit at you.

Please call me back.

Perfect. He wants to tell you in person what a freak you are. What a degenerate you must be to so crudely sit by and listen to something so personal. Clutching your phone until your fingers hurt from its edges, you try to push the memory of his quiet sounds from your head before calling him. The little grunt, the sigh, the moan, your name-

Your name. When he didn’t realize you were listening. In a moment of what should’ve been complete privacy, without knowledge of you listening yet, Dan Heng had said your name and your thumb sweats as you hit the call button.

“Having second thoughts?” Is his immediate accusation, and you stammer for a moment because what do you even say to that? A questioning sound leaves your throat, and a huff of air breezes past the receiver on his end. “You didn’t hang up immediately. You must have liked what you were hearing, or you wouldn’t have continued listening to what I was doing.”

“I thought it was an emergency-”

“A likely excuse, except I can see the call’s duration. Eight minutes to wait for an emergency?” Dan Heng sounds uncharacteristically amused - which is to say not very much at all. But you’ve spent enough time in his presence to pick up on the little nuances, even if you can’t see the micro expressions he favors.

Dan Heng has you pinned with so little effort. And he’s not even trying. You give in immediately, phone shaking next to your ear as you quietly affirm, “Yes, I did. Like it, I mean. I’m sorry, Dan Heng-”

“I’m not asking for an apology. It’s obvious we both have things to apologize for, so it equals out. You for listening in when you weren’t meant to, and me for shamelessly using thoughts of you to relieve myself. I think that sounds fair.”

Not when he says it like that. How does something so blunt still somehow get your blood rushing through your ears, warming your cheeks, and cause an ache to form in the bottom of your gut? Loudly, you swallow around your nerves and choke out a response. “That’s fair.”

“Then that’s settled.” Rustling again; is he laying down now? Has he redressed, or is he nude? Or perhaps he still has himself in hand, moving so slowly you can’t hear it. Dan Heng cuts your thoughts off precisely where he wants them - in the gutter. “Should I keep going? Would you like that?”

“...What?”

It’s such a rare sound for Dan Heng to laugh in any capacity. Even this is little more than a sound of amusement from under his breath, but you latch onto it anyway. It keeps you grounded to the moment as he asks again, “Do you want to keep listening? It’s a simple yes or no answer. If you say no, we won’t speak of this again.”

“And if I say yes?” You hate how breathless you sound, how excited. Because it’s a dead giveaway on how you’ve been feeling up to this point - no one gets this excited just to hear some guy touch himself over the phone, right? No one normal, at least.

A moment of silence, stretching on for a little too long before that entrancing sound of skin-on-skin again, nearly agonizing in its slowness. Shakily, a breath rings out over the line, this time unmuffled and crystal clear. Something in you throbs at the prospect of it all.

Dan Heng’s voice loses its evenness as he clarifies things for your addled brain. “Then you sit there and listen, and you do nothing else. Not until you’re back on the Astral Express.”

“And… When I’m back?”

The earpiece sounds heavenly as his hum rolls through it, like he appreciates your questioning. It takes a beat for him to say anything, and in that span you get to appreciate the hiss he makes between his teeth as he goes a little faster. The side of your face is burning hot under the phone’s dormant screen; you’re nearly pushing it into your skull from your own excitement.

“Then you’ll get to watch. And compare the real thing to what you’re thinking of right now.”

All you want is for him to keep going, to keep talking about the things he’s planning to do with you when you return. Would he be so welcoming to your own machinations? Dan Heng is no mind reader, but he’s not stupid. Surely he knows what’s going through your mind now, though maybe not the exact depths of the depravity.

But you’re not about to enlighten him. Instead, you do what he expects, quietly listening and keeping your breathing measured as his groan rolls through the phone. Every urge demands that you reach down and take care of yourself too, but there was an implication to his words. Nothing else, he said. Only sit and listen, like you wanted to do in the first place.

Dan Heng is surprisingly cruel, you think.

Seemingly exhausted of his willingness to keep speaking to you, he simply… lets go. Dan Heng is quiet, though you can tell by the pitch of his sounds and the sudden urgency he takes while murmuring your name again that he must be close. The way he calls for you is like a taunt, and for a man so pacifistic, he sure is getting a kick out of causing you untold grief.

“Dan Heng, please, can I-”

“No.” It’s grit through his teeth, like his whole body has tensed. Impending orgasm has a way of making even the more passive person into someone needy and demanding, and he exercises that right by urging you, “Say something. Anything. Tell me what you would do if you were here.”

“I’d watch, just like you want me to.” Bravado is easy to fake, and you’ve had more than enough practice over the months as a Trailblazer. Your voice is surprisingly even, “I’d kneel at the end of your bed and watch you touch yourself for me.”

A swear leaves him in a language you’re not familiar with. Only his tone suggests it’s something more than some plain declaration. Then, “When you get back, come straight here. Don’t talk to Himeko, don’t get caught up by Pom-Pom.”

“That eager for me?” You have no grounds to be teasing anyone, but he gives you this one chance to have a small victory. Only to bring it crashing down with his words forced through his tense jaw.

“You have no clue. You’ll see.”

No response comes from you as your mind tries to smooth those words down into something a little more easily digestible, despite their deceptive shortness. There’s a lot to unpack there, and it’s impossible to do so when his breath is coming quicker and he’s moving faster. Your name leaves him one last time, just loud enough for goosebumps to raise across your skin at the knowledge of what he’s done.

Of what you’d listened to, of what you just participated in. In the span of an hour, everything is different. This time tomorrow, you’ll be back on the Astral Express, and you’re not sure if that terrifies you or excites you.

You’re not quite convinced anymore that Dan Heng is still a bad decision.

#dan heng #honkai star rail #hsr #danheng #dan heng/reader #danheng/reader #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #mind the a/n cause if this gets a part 2 MAYBE #yanno #just maybe #nsft

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