#this show will permanently have me in a chokehold :(
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a thing that i genuinely fucking adore about kiseki and that i always have rotating rotisserie-style in my brain is how much trauma and abandonment informs the behaviors and beliefs of the core four. each of them was abandoned or hurt by a parental figure -- via death, via abuse, via addiction -- and the families and lives they built in the aftermath are informed by that specific pain. zong yi and chen yi are both very focused on their ambitions and staying the course and rushing into an accelerated adulthood while containing their emotions safely under wraps. but even then, zong yi is just focused on learning how to provide and be responsible because he has people who still unconditionally support and rely on him and he's thus able to be the most well-adjusted; chen yi doesn't know how to live a life without danger (to himself, to yiyun meng, to ai di) and has no real sense of safety or stability. he's always chasing that hero-worship model of adulthood because he doesn't know how to be his own style of leader and being the mirror image of chen dong yang is going to give him the closest approximation of a sense of safety. he relied on CDY growing up and he believes that mimicking his boss is going to soothe his own terror at living in a fundamentally unstable, out-of-control world.
ai di, of course, was born with emotional instability due to his mother's drug use, so he never had a chance. like chen yi, who was orphaned at an early age, he never had the sense of stability of even one loving caretaker, and CDY doesn't exactly give off the nurturing dad vibes. chen yi was forced into a caretaking role for a close-to-death feral little kid, and he had no one to model affection for him. he did the best he could, and he does succeed in being protection and safe haven for ai di, but he's never had a chance to process and navigate the emotional complexities of burgeoning adulthood and romance. (ai di is, in many ways, similar to macau from KP, i think -- starving for attention and affection that their broken older sibling figures can only give so much of. both vegas and chen yi try mightily to give them the chances they didn't get, but they were equally failed first.) so ai di has the advantage of having a slightly safer space to begin spreading out his messy emotions, but he doesn't know how to really express them in healthy ways (hence his self-destructive attention-seeking behavior).
ze rui is the outlier in many ways -- he doesn't fit in zong yi's world, but he doesn't fit in chen yi's and ai di's, either. as ai di points out to him, he still fears death. he's got his feet wet in the mafia world, but he doesn't have the commitment. he's not as trapped there. he can slide more seamlessly, if awkwardly, into the real world (such as at zong yi's school; he's clumsy and it's played for laughs, but he's old enough and poised enough to keep the ruse semi-on the rails, whereas ai di's prickly, itchy energy makes it a lot harder for him to easily ingratiate). he has somewhere to go home to, both literally in the sense of his apartment, and more figuratively, in the sense of his vile family unit that wants to use him as a pawn for the business. he's more or less kept on ice as a second-best option, told he can be trotted out when he's useful, but slapped down at any moment where he might dare to outshine his brother. of all the four, he's the one in the most gilded cage. zong yi is in a prison of poverty; chen yi and ai di are trapped in a cycle of violence and death. they contain themselves into their own self-created, pre-determined paths. zong yi has no choice but to go to med school and become a family provider. he knows he'll be a workhorse forever. chen yi and ai di have the blackly comic life of wondering if they'll even both be alive on their next birthdays, and they alternately chafe at that and welcome it. ze rui has a financially advantageous future, if he'll continue being a loyal pet of the same people who ruthlessly crushed the independence and ambition and self-esteem out of him from childhood on.
it's just such a crunchy show with so much to really dig into and pick apart at the marrow. i'm fascinated with how everyone starts at a similar point (parental failures) and spirals out in vastly different ways. sometimes they parallel each other, sometimes they intersect, and sometimes they diverge into wildly different paths. there are so many rich veins to mine (and that's not even touching a lot of the traumas inflicted in canon, for fuck's sake) and it's so refreshing to see a show about trauma and healing that doesn't manage to disrespectfully screw over its characters in the eleventh hour.
#kiseki: dear to me#i'll let you figure out which shows i'm subtweeting in that last bit!!!#anyway no idea if this is coherent. have gotten maybe 3-4 hours of sleep but now i'm up and i'm avoiding finishing my WIP#tl;dr i love these boys i love how painfully messy and flawed and human they are#i won't tolerate disrespect of any of them bc they're so well-created#this show will permanently have me in a chokehold :(#edit: PUT MY SHIT IN THE TAGS YOU COWARDS!!!!
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The angel and the devil | Eddie Munson fic
Summary: The two of you met at a halloween costume in polar opposite outfits. What started as Eddie being a gentleman and helping out a drunk girl, turned into a rapidly blooming crush. He believed it to be one sided after he thought you were avoiding him, but you were falling hard too, just too shy to admit to the guy you nearly puked on that he was kind of cute.
Word count - 9463
Warnings - lots of mentions of throwing up, language, talks of drinking
a/n i dont really like how i ended this but it was the best i could come up with. this man has had me a chokehold for nearly two weeks now 😭
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Eddie wasn’t one to usually go to parties, let alone parties thrown by people on a different level of social popularity than him, which was most; almost all, but when he was invited to a Halloween party by none other than Steve Harrington, he felt obligated. After all the shit that went down in Hawkins with Vecna just a short while ago, he and Steve had gotten to know each other pretty well. They saved each other’s lives more than once, and had become, he might even say, friends. That was part of the reason he didn’t feel like he could turn down the invitation to the party.
Regardless of his concerns he showed up anyway, in a poorly thrown together devil costume that people probably expected him to show up in. A dark red button up, black jeans and some plastic horns? That was good enough for him. What else would Eddie Munson be for Halloween? If anything he was only reinforcing the belief he was actually part of a cult, but that was part of his charm around Hawkins. If he could terrorize the insufferable members of the basketball team with one simple look, then what was the harm in the rumour, really?
He hadn’t been there long when he swore he fell in love. The first time he saw you that night, you were halfway across the room with some friends, dressed in the cutest little angel costume he had ever seen. He thought it was quite ironic, he dressed as the devil, you as an angel. You looked like an angel in your own right though, the way you laughed at someone’s joke, the smile that was almost permanently planted on your face. God he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.
He probably looked creepy, standing in the kitchen, looking through the crowd of people right at you; but he couldn’t help himself. All those people and he felt as though you were the only one he could see. He just felt drawn to you, but you probably didn’t even know his name. If you were friends with Steve then he could pretty much guarantee it, hell Harrington only knew his name because he had to learn it in a life or death situation. And on the off chance that you did know him, you probably knew him as the freak.
He wished he had the courage to go over there and talk to you. From the minimal, and he means very minimal, interactions you had had with each other over the years, you seemed like a really sweet girl. But the fact you were surrounded by so many of your friends just made the idea all the more terrifying. That isn’t to say he’d have the balls to ask you out if you were alone either.
In retrospect, if he wanted to ask you out tonight, or maybe ask you to dance, he should have done it sooner rather than later, because now you were stumbling into the kitchen after one too many drinks, looking for something to sober you up. Not that there were any drinks in the entire kitchen that weren’t filled with alcohol.
That was when you found Eddie, leaning against the counter, not so subtly watching you over the rim of his solo cup. After you caught him you apparently just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. He was cute, even cuter when his cheeks flushed after realising he had been caught staring. He didn’t think you would approach, he thought maybe after the glance his way you would rush off or just ignore him, but that didn’t happen.
You stumbled over your own feet when you made your way over to him, slipping past a few people who were getting themselves drinks. “You were staring,” you muttered, stating the obvious. He laughed nervously, nodding his head as he made a short routine out of looking to the ground bashfully, then back up to your face, and back to the ground again. On the spot he tried to come up with something he could say as an excuse. He didn’t have the kind of confidence a lot of Hawkin’s students did to just come out and say he was mesmerised by you. “I, uh– I like your halo,” he stuttered, motioning to the shitty, makeshift halo that sat on your head. It had been thrown together last minute with a random headband and some glue you found, simple yet effective for your costume. Which is why you didn’t really believe that was his reasoning, but you let it slide, you didn’t care all that much.
You reciprocated the compliment. “I like these,” you said, raising your hand to his head to mess with the plastic that sat, now tangled, in his curly mane. When you took in his full costume it actually made you giggle, you fucking giggled. Eddie preached it was the sweetest noise he had ever heard, and if he wasn’t falling head over heels before then he was now. He was falling hard. “Oh cool, a devil. And ‘m an angel, s’like we were meant to be, huh?”
He didn’t say anything, fuck, he didn’t know what to say, staring at you like a fish out of water. He knew you didn’t mean that in the way he would have liked you to, but his heart didn’t know that. “You’re Eddie,” you muttered, lightly jabbing your finger into the middle of his chest as though you were proving a point, also bringing him back from his thoughts. He nodded, a little taken off guard that you actually knew his name.
He couldn’t help it though, a small grin split on his face at how cute you were. “That I am. And you’re drunk.”
You chuckled, nodding your head. “That. I. am,” you teased, slinging your arms around his neck. It was more so a balance thing than anything else. You couldn’t seem to stop your body from swaying and you didn’t want to fall on your face right in the middle of a party; that would have been painfully embarrassing. And if Eddie minded your touch he didn’t complain. “I never see you at parties,” you observed, a small crease appearing between your eyebrows as they furrowed.
He was so close to your face that he could actually see each crease and tiny detail of your skin, his breath hitching in his throat after he consciously realised the proximity. His hands lifted to settle on your waist after a few seconds of contemplating it, seeing it the most efficient way to help you keep your balance. “‘M never usually invited,” he answered.
You seemed to study him closely for a few minutes before you spoke again, having changed the subject entirely. “Are you really in a cult?” you slurred, glazed eyes staring up at him wide, full of curiosity. He chuckled, thankful you probably wouldn’t remember the flush on his cheeks after tonight. “No, I’m not.” He may have enjoyed that rumour when it came to teasing the basketball goonies, but with you he felt like he could be honest; plus he didn’t think you were going to remember much of this interaction anyway by tomorrow.
There was a sudden twist in your features that had concern bubbling in his chest, his head ducking a little bit to catch your gaze that had fallen to some place over his shoulder. “Y’okay?”
You shook your head, pulling back from him a little bit as your stomach churned. “Think ‘m gonna be sick,” you muttered, forcing his eyes to widen. He certainly couldn’t let you throw up where you were in the middle of the kitchen surrounded by people. He jumped into action quickly, as calmly yet hastily as he could, he guided you to the nearest bathroom, assuring you you would make it in time and be okay.
Thankfully he was right, and within minutes he was holding your hair back out of your face as you threw up from all the alcohol you had ingested during the night. At some point when you started to sober up a little, you became more conscious of the hand stroking your back and the presence behind you. A groan slipped past your lips as you sat back on your feet, under the belief that you were finally done.
“Feel any better?” he asked.
The two of you shuffled until you were sitting across from each other on the bathroom floor, knees brushing every now and then from the closeness. The more you thought about it the more mortified you were to think you just spewed your guts in front of Eddie Munson. “No,” you whined, clutching your stomach for dear life. “I’m sorry you had to see that, that must have been so unattractive.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, you don’t feel good. The least important thing right now is looking attractive.” Your eyes locked with his wide puppy ones and you felt something turn in your stomach that wasn’t the alcohol this time. Sweetheart. Oh.
Never once had you thought about the boy that way, in all the years you had known of him, but apparently one single night was changing all of that. You never realised quite how charming he could be. He would say he wasn’t, he didn’t have a way with ladies at all. He was a huge nerd and ‘the town freak’, and neither of those things are exactly considered chick magnets. But maybe he didn’t need any flirting ability or a special way with women to press the right buttons, him being his sweet self was doing that for him.
The bliss of your thoughts didn’t last long before the uncomfortable feeling was back in your stomach, your nose scrunching from the discomfort. “What’s wrong?” Eddie questioned, reaching forward to place a hand on your knee. The simple touch was like the catalyst, your body spinning as you barely made it back over the toilet again. Even with your discomfort, one of the thoughts that was now plaguing your mind was that you nearly threw up on Eddie, how were you supposed to live that down? You could’ve even sworn you saw the fear in his eyes where he thought you were going to. How you wished the ground would open and swallow you whole.
You were very surprised he was still sitting in the bathroom with you when you were done for the second time. “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be fine.”
If you thought he was sweet before, he was certainly continuing to rack up the brownie points with you now. “No. I want to make sure you’re okay.” Your heart fluttered, but you didn’t get long to think on it before you were bracing yourself again.
Coming into the party tonight you certainly never would have expected to be spending a lot of your night in Steve Harrington’s bathroom with Eddie Munson, especially while you were throwing up. Heck you wouldn’t have even expected to be in the same room as Eddie at all; but now you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You actually would have liked to have spent more time with him afterwards, not in a bathroom puking of course, but that was only if you could muster up the courage to face him again after almost spewing your guts all over his attempt at a devil costume.
»»——⍟——««
Having to head to work the day after a booming Halloween party felt like some sort of penance for an evil deed you didn’t commit. Your head was pounding, stomach occasionally still churning and every possible light was too bright. The issue was that you couldn’t just wear sunglasses inside all day while you did your job, but there were too many lights in the store to stop your head from throbbing for more than thirty seconds.
When you walked through the door of the video store, Steve spotted you, grinning like a maniac at the state of you. Usually you were pretty well put together, but today your hair was a mess, face dull, sunglasses on and you were much more delayed in your movements. Oh yeah he could tell you had a bad hangover, but just because you were friends didn’t mean he had to approach you with caution for the day. “Good morning, my favourite co-worker!” he called loudly, relishing in the way you winced at the volume of his voice.
There was a cough that could be heard from behind him, and when he turned his head he saw a very unimpressed Robin watching him. He realised his mistake, but he actually jumped at the opportunity to torment you again. “Sorry,” he muttered to the girl. “Good morning, to one half of my joint favourite co-workers!”
This time around you let out a loud groan as you reached the counter, crouching down so you could rest your head against the cool surface. “Steve, shut up.” You heard him laughing at your misery, leaving you to blindly swing your arms until they collided with his body, silently punishing him for being an asshole.
“Shouldn’t have gotten so drunk the night before a work day,” he teased, shrugging his shoulders as though he was entirely innocent in this situation. Like he wasn’t the one who threw the party in the first place, and actually supplied you with all the drinks. “It was your party, dickwad. And I swear you had more drinks than I did, how are you not dead?”
You finally raised your head from the counter and the cocky look on his face made you want to hit him before he even spoke. “You see, I have this thing called a tolerance. Which is where–” You scoffed, rolling your eyes before you walked away, leaving him to finish his sentence without an audience. Even though you did sneak into the back room to get away from Steve, it was also to soak up the last few minutes of silence and a calm atmosphere before you officially opened for the day and were met with a wave of noisy customers.
It really was no time at all to get yourself together before Robin was forcing you back out to the front with a fake smile planted on your face. You had to at least look a tiny bit alive to greet and help customers, even if that felt impossible at the moment.
To your luck, there weren't many people filtering in and out of the store, meaning it was pretty chill. Robin was manning the counter in case anyone did come up wanting to rent, and you and Steve were stacking the shelves with new releases, making light conversation as you did so. Occasionally Robin would contribute, but for the most part she was stuck watching some random movie she decided to put on. One of the perks of working at a video store you supposed.
“So, where did you disappear to last night? One minute you were there, then you were gone. No one knew where you were,” he said, bringing up the memories of your time with Eddie. The ones you had been trying to suppress for various reasons. You considered not telling him, or making something up, but you weren’t a brilliant liar and the man knew you too well to not suspect you.
“Please don’t make me talk about it,” you whined, your face scrunching up in distaste at the embarrassment you still felt. It only intrigued Steve more though.
“What could have happened that has you so mortified?” he asked, placing a hand on his hip sassily as he turned his full attention to you, leaving the videos unattended and unfinished on the shelf. If you had an embarrassing story to share then he definitely wanted to hear it. He also would never let you hear the end of it, and you knew that, but he also wouldn’t let this go until he got the story. It was a lose/lose situation for you really.
You groaned, a groan that was meant to be in your head but just so happened to be out loud instead. “I nearly threw up on a guy in the bathroom,” you said simply. You didn’t particularly want to relive the memory, but it was obvious Steve was going to make you do exactly that because he believed your story was much too vague. He was a sucker for details.
“What guy?”
Your whisper of the culprit’s name was too quiet for your friend to hear, so he made an obnoxious ‘huh’ sound in true Steve fashion and basically forced you to speak up. “It was Eddie Munson,” you stated, keeping your voice low just in case anyone was around and eavesdropping. Steve’s teasing you could deal with it, but if anyone else found out, especially one of the kids he was friends with? Oh you truly would not be able to handle it.
He seemed shocked, wide eyed as a thousand thoughts swam in his head. “Eddie?” he questioned. You nodded your head, hiding your features behind your hands as embarrassment racked your body. “Eddie Munson? Really?”
“Yes, really, Steve.”
“Well, tell me everything.”
You rolled your eyes, setting down the video that was in your hand so you could turn to face him. Now neither of you were doing the jobs you were supposed to be doing. It probably wouldn’t be a very good look to your boss but thankfully he was rarely ever here to see it anyway. You internally decided it would be easier to tell Steve the most basic rendition of the events of the prior night. He didn’t need to know about the pet name Eddie threw out there, and he certainly didn’t need to know how it made you feel– or rethink every thought you ever had about the metal head. “I was heading to sober up, found him in your kitchen, we got to talking about our matching costumes– He was a devil, I was an angel,” you clarified for him. “And then I ran to the bathroom, and, viola.”
“So, he went with you? To watch you throw up?” he checked.
You huffed at the weird implications he was trying to imply. “Just because you wouldn’t help a drunk girl who needed to throw up, doesn’t mean everyone wouldn’t. Some people are gentlemen, Steve.”
His eyebrows raised and his face split into a grin, the warning sign that what was about to follow was not going to be very pleasant for you. “Oh, so you think Munson’s a gentleman now?” He had never once in his entire time of knowing you heard you mention Eddie for any reason, not even to jump on the bandwagon of making fun of him like most of Steve’s buddies had done over the years. So he thought it was ironic that the first time you did, it was only a few short weeks after he had befriended him. If that wasn’t the universe telling him to meddle then he didn’t know what was.
“Shut up,” you muttered, swatting his arm. You had been hitting him a lot today it felt like, but he earned it. “H-He’s sweet.” That was the safest compliment you could throw out there, not wanting your friend to catch on to the feeling of butterflies in your stomach that appeared when you thought about Eddie for too long. Specifically thinking about his kind smile. But the flustered aroma surrounding you might have given that away without words. “Now can we move on, maybe do our jobs?”
He studied your face for a few more seconds until you turned your head away from him, not liking the harsh stare he was imposing on you. It felt like he was trying to look into your soul and you hated it. Eventually he gave in, raising both his hands in defeat. “Alright, alright. Whatever you want.” But deep down he was already plotting.
»»——⍟——««
When Steve planned to meddle, he planned hard. You were none the wiser of what he was doing, but the sneaky bastard kept inviting both you and Eddie to the same place; telling neither of you he was doing so, to try and get you to talk. Though his plan was severely failing on the you-side. Eddie, who knew part of the plan as he was often persuaded to go places with the promise you’d be there, was actually eager to talk to you again.
It had been days since the Halloween party, and you had seen Eddie on a handful of occasions. Had you spoken to him once though? Nope. You were definitely avoiding him, and the hurt look on his face every time you saw him and dashed from somewhere, told you he knew as well. You felt bad, you did, but you couldn’t stand to face him if he were to bring up the events of the party.
One day you knew you would have no choice but to talk to him again, you couldn’t avoid him forever. In such a small town that would have been physically impossible. But you didn’t think the day in question would have been today. When he showed up at your work there was literally anywhere for you to escape to.
The bell above the door was what indicated your arrival, your eyes jumping in the direction to see who entered. “Oh, shit,” you cursed, whipping your body around so your back was to the door, silently praying that Eddie didn’t recognise you. Upon hearing your curse Steve’s interest was piqued, his eyes following every inch of the scene. “What’s wrong?” the brunette teased, biting back a smile as he watched you freak. Oh he knew full well what was wrong, he was the one who went out of his way to drop by the Munson’s trailer this morning to tell him you would be working all day. “Eddie’s here,” you whined.
Steve faked a gasp, the over exaggeration bringing you to roll your eyes as you tried to busy yourself. But to your dismay there was nothing for you to do. At least until Steve spoke up and you thought you might have had a shot at escaping a highly awkward encounter with Eddie.
“I think our customers need a little assistance,” he said, glancing between Eddie and the elderly woman who looked to be struggling to even read the movie titles on the video cases.
“You take him, I take the old lady?” you suggested, already heading in her general direction. Steve chuckled, shaking his head before setting his hands on your shoulders. He turned you around, pushing you in the opposing direction with some force. At times like this you really wished you were a thousand times stronger than him, or maybe just a lot more stubborn. If you knew how to properly stand your ground then you would be well on your way to assisting the old woman by now.
As you moved to head away from Eddie, you noted Steve was walking backwards towards your other customer, amusement sparkling in his eyes. You glared. “Steve, don’t you dare,” you whisper-yelled, shaking your head as you watched him come close enough to the woman that she noticed his presence. Within seconds she was asking him a hundred questions, the man’s bright grin never leaving his face as his scheme was set into motion. You threw your head back with a quiet groan before getting yourself together to go and talk to Eddie.
When you turned on your heel to face him you caught him staring, the boy’s eyes widening as he quickly turned his head to face the other direction. Even from that angle you could see the blush that had fallen on his cheeks at the fact he’d been caught; just like the night of the party all over again. You got yourself together, giving yourself a quick pep talk before heading over to him; he was conveniently in the romance section.
“Hi,” you greeted, simply.
He turned to look at you and something you couldn’t make out flashed behind his eyes. “Hi. I was just, uh, looking for a movie to watch.” He pointed to the stack of shelves he was standing in front of, as well as the random VHS that was in his hands which he had just picked up on a limb as he saw you approach. He didn’t want you to yet again think he was some creep, though he really needed to get better at lying if he was going to continue to do it.
You held back a laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah that’s what people usually do at video stores.” You wished you could have taken a picture of the look on his face when the realisation hit him. His mouth had been working a thousand times faster than his brain, so he didn’t know what he was saying before he said it. Thankfully you saved him from the pain of trying to dig himself out of that deeply embarrassing hole. “Didn’t take you for a romance kind of guy though.”
“You’d be surprised. G-Given the chance I could woo your pants off like one of these romance guys.” He watched your features contort, his heart sinking into his stomach now he realised how dumb that sounded.
“Oh, that was terrible,” you cringed. “Did you get that from Steve?” You were sure that had worked for Harrington before, but it wasn’t the line itself that usually did it for him and the ladies. The women under this town were under some sort of spell with him, and his overconfidence really helped sell the show too. But Eddie had neither of those, stuttering through a pick up line meant it really didn’t have the same effect.
Eddie looked like he’d seen a ghost, a wave of humiliation hitting him full force at the thought of having ruined his shot with you by being a douche. You saw his eyes flicker over your shoulder in a nervous glance, nothing but a noise coming out of his mouth as his brain tried to come up with something to tell you. When you followed his gaze you watched as Steve’s hands dropped to his sides, the man trying to act natural and like he wasn’t saying something to the poor boy in front of you.
“W-Was it really that bad?” he asked.
You laughed, nodding your head. “It was so bad.” The sound of your sweet laughter gave him hope that he hadn’t completely messed up though. To him it sounded like amused laughter, not patronising laughter. He’d heard enough of that in his years to know the difference. The atmosphere quickly grew uncomfortable, and there was a clear shift in the conversation.
“I’m sorry, I just—“ he paused, inhaling sharply as he decided to lay it all out for you. “I really wanted to impress you. At the party I thought you looked so beautiful, a-and I think I got a bit of a crush,” he admitted. “But every time I’ve tried to talk to you since… you just walk away.” It was clear that what you had been doing was wounding him, and part of you knew that all along, but now it was presented to you right from the source, you felt guilty.
This was your chance to finally get yourself an answer. To find out if he’d been thinking about your near miss accident as much as you had. “I was embarrassed,” you muttered. The furrow in his brow felt like a good sign.
“About what?”
Your eyes bulged. “I nearly threw up on you.”
“When?”
You scoffed. All that worrying you had been doing and the boy didn’t even remember. Or if he did, he didn’t care. “You really don’t remember?” you questioned. He shook his head, lifting a metaphorical weight off of your shoulders. It felt like you could relax for the first time in days when you thought about him. It was actually a pleasant feeling. “Well that makes me feel so much better actually.”
The obvious tension that surrounded you both seemed to subside, the two of you gazing at each other with soft smiles. “So I didn’t completely mess up?” he asked. You shook your head. “Not at all. I actually really enjoyed talking with you the other night, even though we were in a bathroom.”
It looked like something clicked in him from that moment, his features lighting up and his posture straightening out, although it seemed he was looking anywhere but you. “Well, in that case, I was wondering–” When his eyes met yours he was ready to chicken out. Eddie Munson had never asked a girl out in his life, and he never even considered asking one out that was as enchanting as he found you. To say he was scared shitless right now would be an understatement.
You got the gist of what he was probably going to ask, but the longer it took for him to spit out the words, the more worried you got that he’d changed his mind halfway through speaking. So, you did it yourself, removing the pressure from him. “Would you like to go out with me sometime, Eddie?”
You watched him let out a breath of relief, shoulders sagging again and a grateful grin splitting on his face. “I’d love to.”
»»——⍟——««
The night of your date had finally arrived and you were so nervous. You had spent the entire day stressing over every tiny detail, even the ones you couldn’t control. Both Robin and Steve had been driven crazy the whole time after you invited them over for their help and reassuring words. To be fair, you were driving them crazy too though.
You must have shown them six different outfits you could wear at this point, each one pretty much the same as the last. You had messed with your hair, whining to Robin about how it just didn’t look right, even though she assured you it was perfect. Then came the issue of makeup, all of which Steve seemed to complain he didn’t understand. He never cared about any of these things when he was going on dates with girls. But maybe that was just him.
“Y/N, he likes you, he isn’t going to care,” Steve said, believing he was making the situation better. That only made you feel worse, throwing yourself face first down onto your bed, groaning about how nothing was going to go right and you had made such an effort only to have one of your good friends throw it right back in your face like it was nothing. Robin scolded him, slapping his arm as the two whisper-yelled to each other in the hopes you wouldn’t hear them; but you did.
“Steve’s a dick, don’t listen to him. You look good, and Eddie’s gonna think you look good too,” she said, hand rubbing over the expanse of your back in a comforting gesture.
You lifted your head from where you’d buried it, glancing at your friend with a hopeful expression in your eyes. “Really?” you asked, earning a nod from her. “You look smokin’, he’s lucky to be getting this time with you,” she said.
As you moved to thank her your eyes caught the clock on your night stand, eyes growing wide at the fact he’d be showing up in no less than half an hour and you still didn’t have an outfit selected. Your friends saw the way your face contorted into fear, ushering you up from your bed so they could get you together and ready in enough time. And although Steve’s previous attempt at a pep talk had gone horribly, this time around he was calming you down just fine.
It felt like almost no time had passed when you heard the expected knock on the door. Robin had picked the perfect thing for you to wear, your hair looked good, and you felt beautiful. Part of you wouldn’t ever admit you were dressing to try and impress some boy, so the fact you felt so pretty was good enough for you.
With one last reminder that you could do this, you pulled open the door. “Hi,” you said, standing shyly on your doorstep. At first he just looked at you blankly, and you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do. You shifted a little awkwardly on your feet before turning to send a glance to Nancy and Steve. They didn’t help, just offered you a thumb’s up as it looked like Eddie finally came back to reality. “W-Wow, hi. You look beautiful.”
Your skin burned hot at the compliment, and you took in how he looked standing there. The jeans had no rips on them for a change, though he still had his tell tale chain dangling from the material. His shirt wasn’t any familiar band tee that he usually wore, but instead replaced with a white button up that showcased the effort he had put into looking good for this date. Not that he needed to put much effort in to look good. His many rings still adorned his fingers, and his hair looked a little more tamed, though it was clear he had been messing with it. “You clean up well, Munson.”
You saw his cheeks flush and it was the cutest thing, unable to bite back the smile that crept upon your face. “Shall we head out?” he asked. You tried to hide your excitement as you nodded, but you probably looked incredibly eager anyway. As you tugged the door closed you heard Steve and Robin muttering about ‘how they grow up so fast’ leaving you to sneak your hand through the gap to flash them a middle finger before you really left.
Even though the walk from your front door to where his car was parked at the end of your driveway was short, that didn’t stop him from shyly lacing your fingers together to lead the way, the feeling of his warm palm sliding across yours making your heart race. How did a guy you only really noticed for the first time, maybe a week ago, have such a hold on your heart already? He was magical.
You were snapped from your gaze when you felt his touch leave you, a little sad if you were being honest, but that was replaced with yet another flurry of butterflies at his next actions. “M’lady,” he said, pulling open the passenger door for you. You climbed in with a grin, thanking him for the gesture. “Thank you, kind sir.”
He swore he fell even more in love right then.
You had exactly two seconds to gather your thoughts before he was climbing in the driver’s side, and then your eyes were on him. This could have been the only chance you got to really study his features; when he literally couldn’t remove his eyes from the road. The more you looked at him, the more handsome he seemed to become. Though a lot of people hated the hair, it suited him well, you couldn’t imagine him without it; it was just so him. The way each strand curled perfectly, how it framed his face. You noticed every so often it’d get caught in his eyes, but he must have been so used to it that it didn’t bother him. With a quick shake of his head it’d be fixed.
His eyes, oh they were so enchanting. They had been one of the main things that sent you haywire when you looked at him. They were like a void, just a space you could so easily get lost in if you looked long enough. But they were dangerous, one glance from those puppy eyes would have you bending at his will in seconds.
You didn’t get to look at him for as long as you would have liked. He’d realised you weren’t saying anything, and when he glanced over you were just staring, in some sort of trance. But the expression on your face was too blank, too unreadable. “You ready, sweetheart?” he asked, softly, wondering if the silence was you changing your mind. There was that nickname again. The one that made you feel all fuzzy inside in a way you didn’t think you could describe with words. “So ready.”
The ride to your mystery location was pleasant. It was filled with chatter between the two of you and the sound of music through the tape in the player. It was some metal band that you weren’t really too fond of, but whatever made him happy. Conversation seemed so easy with him, so effortless, and you found yourself not wanting the night to end already and you hadn’t even left the van yet.
At first you didn’t know where he was going, driving down unfamiliar roads and heading in a direction you didn’t recognise. “Where are we going?” you eventually asked. You partially trusted him, but it was dawning on you how little you actually knew him. Going to an unfamiliar place with a man you didn’t know all that well probably wasn’t the best idea, but it was a bit late for second thoughts now. He glanced over briefly at the sound of your voice. “It’s a surprise. Trust me, I know a place.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but settled back into the surprisingly comfortable passenger seat of the van. Another ten or so minutes passed by before the roads got darker, shrouded with trees and away from almost any civilization. It was like that for a little until the engine cut off, your eyes scoured your surroundings seeing he’d brought you to a clearing in the woods. Given the secluded location you felt like you had to ask the question plaguing your mind. “You aren’t about to murder me, right?” you asked, half-joking, half-actually-serious.
He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I’m not. I thought you believed me when I told you I wasn’t in a cult.”
You rolled your eyes. “‘S pretty easy to deny. ‘Oh are you in a cult?’ No.” You shrugged to emphasise your little show, hearing him chuckling to himself as he stepped out of the van. “See, easy. How do you know I’m not in a cult?” you questioned him as he pulled open your door for you again.
The grin on his face was positively precious, and the easy banter between you must have eased up his anxieties a little bit. His hand raised to lightly brush his thumb and pointer finger against your chin. “You’re too cute to be in a cult.”
You scoffed, eyes trailing his figure as he headed over to the sliding door on his van. “And you’re not? Munson you, so, aren’t the badass everyone thinks you are.” His eyes flickered over to you, his head cocking and the corner of his mouth curling up as if he was amused with what you were saying. “Oh really?” he queried. You nodded your head. “What am I then?”
“Deep down, you’re a big softie.” He didn’t protest what you were saying at all. He wasn’t like one of these egotistical freaks that felt they had to keep up a reputation. If you thought he was a softie it was because he was a huge softie for you, and he didn’t care who knew it. “Only for you, sweetheart.”
The look of utter adoration on your face was hard for him to ignore, he desperately wanted to let it go to his ego, but he couldn’t.
You cleared your throat when the initial flood of cloudiness subsided. “So, what’s in store for us?”
The smile on his face didn’t give anything away, other than the fact that whatever it was he was proud of. Your eyes followed his movements as he tugged open the sliding door, holding his arms out to showcase the inside of the van. It wasn’t at all what you expected. You were met with an adorable sight. He’d set the inside up like a bed, a mattress crammed in, some pillows and a couple blankets for you both. He’d even gone as far to add some fairy lights to brighten the place up, and you had to admit it did make it feel more romantic. “I, uh, I thought we could watch the stars. No one ever comes out here so—“ He trailed off when it looked like he remembered something else. You watched him lean into the van, doing who knows what before the soft sound of music started to play inside the vehicle. “And there’s music, and some food.”
When he turned to look at you he noted the frown on your lips, taking it as a sign he had gone way too over the top or maybe let your expectations down. He felt the need to suddenly apologise. “I know it’s probably not what you expected, but I—“ You cut him off with the touch of your fingertips on his cheek, turning his head to face you. Those puppy eyes of his seemed to widen when they realised how close you both had gotten, he wasn’t expecting to almost brush noses with you when he looked in your direction. “It’s perfect, Eddie. No one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
For a moment his eyes flickered between your gaze and your lips, weighing out the pros and cons of leaning in and kissing you right now. But once again at the last minute he chickened out, leaving you a little disappointed if you were being completely honest. You didn’t say anything though, putting it down to the poor man’s nerves. “‘M glad,” he muttered.
He offered out his hand to help you climb into the back. Truly he didn’t need to, it wasn’t difficult to get into, but he felt like that was what guys should do on dates. You took a seat on the shockingly soft mattress, crossing your legs over one another as you waited for him to join you. When he finally did he let out a sigh, offering you a grin.
“So, what’s on the menu, chef?”
He stretched his arm behind him, bringing to your view a familiar looking box. It was from the pizza place that you were practically obsessed with. You would basically force Steve and Robin to order from there every time you hung out at your house. “Pizza for the lovely lady.” It was like he knew you were suspicious of him the second you saw the box, your eyes narrowing in his direction as you lifted the lid to find exactly what kind you expected.
“Who told you?”
He shrugged shyly. He had never put this much effort into anything, not even D&D or his band, especially not a person. So he didn’t really know how to act nonchalant about the reaction he was getting. He was quickly realising he loved the tiny twinkles of joy in your eyes every time he did something that made you weak in the knees. “I may have had a little talk with Harrington.”
“You sneaky bastard.”
He reached back behind him a second time, this time drinks were dangling from the grip of his fingers. “And I got beer.”
It didn’t take either of you long to dig in, especially seeing as you couldn’t shut up about how good the pizza was for at least five minutes before you started eating. Eventually he had taken to basically shoving a piece into your hand and then up to your mouth, laughing about how if you love it so much you should actually eat some. Once again conversation flowed smoothly between you, talking about your friends and how Eddie had managed to become friends. He left out the obvious crazy monsters bit, you were on a need to know basis, so it was pretty much all a lie.
You hadn’t been on that many dates in your time, the boys in Hawkins were grade-a-assholes ninety-percent of the time, but you could say wholeheartedly that this was the greatest one you had ever had. It might have been the only one you truly enjoyed. Eddie just had this thing about him that you couldn’t pinpoint, but it made him so easily likeable. You understand how Steve, a rather judgemental friend actually, could come to befriend him so fast. He was nothing like his reputation stated.
After you ate the boy shifted his position, taking to lying on his back with his head practically hanging out of the van. It actually gave him a perfect view of the stars. He patted the space beside him as he motioned for you to do the same. You didn’t hesitate, following his lead and realising that in fact the view was beautiful. “Wow.”
“Wow, indeed,” he muttered. His stare basically burned holes into your cheek, and with an eye roll you turned your head to the side to face him. You caught his eye and his smile only grew.
“Is this one of the ‘romance guy’ clichés you know?” you teased.
He could’ve died right there on the spot thinking about that moment in the video store again. It certainly hadn’t been one of his best moments, and he wanted to move on from this topic very very quickly. “Just shut up and look at the stars.”
You must have spent hours gazing up at the sky, having Eddie point out what he said were various constellations, only to later come clean that he was lying out of his ass. It made you laugh nearly hysterically, the beer getting to your head a little. But all he’d been doing in his lies was trying to get that kind of reaction out of you. He’d found that in such a short time he’d quickly come to adore the sound of your laughter.
“Do you actually know any constellations?” you asked, grinning from ear to ear as you turned your head to look at him. The smile on his face was unmatched, and you’d argue that his eyes twinkled more than every star in the sky did.
His confession came with a slightly scrunched nose and red-twinged cheeks. “Nope. I’m repeating my senior for the third time, d’you really think I paid enough attention in school to learn about the stars?” he laughed.
“Fair play.” The words died on your tongue as your eyes locked, feeling like the biggest movie cliché was playing out in front of you. It would have been funny to point out how painfully ironic it was if you weren’t stuck in some lovesick trance. You tried to make it obvious that you were eyeing his lips, and you thought you had, but he didn’t seem to be making any first move.
Again, like back in the store, you felt you needed to make the first move or it would never happen. “Eddie,” you whispered, gaze unfaltering as you stared into those large doe eyes. You could and certainly had gotten lost in them, they were just so mesmerising. They held so much emotion in them, so many unsaid things that you were desperate to hear. He didn’t say anything, didn’t want to ruin the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in, instead he just hummed as quietly as he could. “Please, kiss me.”
Now that he knew you wanted him to, he didn’t waste another second, leaning forward to finally meet your lips for the first time. He couldn’t help but note you tasted like beer and the coconut chapstick he watched you apply earlier, his new favourite combination he thought to himself. You were thinking the same, though he tasted like beer and a faint taste of weed. A strange two things to enjoy the taste of, but it was just so him.
As your lip-lock grew more intense he shifted again, rolling onto his side so he could get a better hold of you. He rested on his elbow, his other hand, the one with the chunky rings on, cradling your cheek gently, like you were made out of porcelain or something.
Your arms had found themselves snaking around his neck, wanting to desperately pull him closer to you. However, with that brought the tickling sensation of his hair hitting your skin, forcing you to part from him to let out the laughter that was building up. At first he didn’t know what was going on, a smile growing on his face nonetheless at the joy written all over your face. But you could tell he was confused. “Your hair… it’s tickling me,” you managed to get out through laughs.
To hear more of the angelic sound, he shook his hair against you, laughing with you as you called for him to knock it off.
When the laughter died down the two of you were left laying side by side, grinning like idiots at the ceiling of his van. The joy of just a few minutes ago was very much still present, neither of you spoke for a bit, just enjoyed the happy aura that engulfed you in your silence. That was until Eddie spoke up to break the silence, saying the four words you had been dreading all night. “We should head back.”
He heard you whine but unfortunately you couldn’t stay. “Steve’ll have my head if I don’t bring you back tonight. Or I would say we stay in a heartbeat.” The knowledge that he wanted to stay with you longer made your heart happy, and made you more willing to agree to heading home. He was right when he said Steve would be on him, because you knew if you had a phone with you right now he probably would have been blowing it up like your mom.
“Yeah, you’re right. We should do this again though some time.” You barely got your sentence out when he was leaning in to steal another quick kiss from your lips. For the first time since the party, when you looked at him he didn’t look nervous to have done something so bold. “Absolutely.”
»»——⍟——««
The drive home, though just as pleasant as the drive there, held a different atmosphere than it had before. Your hands were locked over the console, stealing glances at each other when you didn’t think the other was looking. It all felt so… blissful; natural. It was a feeling you hadn’t felt with any other boy you knew. You didn’t even need to communicate to know you both felt the exact same way.
When he turned the corner to your street you felt your heart sink a little bit, you really weren’t ready to leave him just yet. But you didn’t have much of a choice when the vehicle came to a stop at the end of your driveway. Eddie watched you pout, thinking it was the cutest thing. “Walk me to my door?” you asked, trying to grasp any extra time you could spend with him. He agreed instantly.
He caught you off guard when you got out of the van, where he was sweeping you into his arms, his lips capturing yours. It made your head swirl, giving you a sort of drunken sensation from just his kiss. “If you keep doing that, I dunno how you expect me to leave you.” His lips curled into a smile against yours, teeth clashing for a second which forced the two of you to pull away. “Maybe that’s my plan.”
You rolled your eyes, he was the one that wanted to take you home so he didn’t have to deal with Steve’s wrath, now he was proposing other ideas. “Thank you for tonight. I had a lot of fun,” you told him genuinely, twirling a strand of his curly hair around your fingers. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled. “Me too. You’re not as bad as I thought you’d be, Y/L/N.”
“Asshole,” you chuckled, hitting his shoulder with the heel of your hand. You heard him laugh as you stepped past him, eyes set on the entrance of your home. You had barely made it a few steps closer to your front door before he was spinning you back around, his hands firmly planted on your waist. He too didn’t want this night to end, and if he had to stall you at your doorstep until the sun rose, he absolutely would.
“Okay, okay. But jus’ think, this all started because you make a really beautiful angel,” he murmured, brushing the tip of his nose against yours affectionately. He watched the smile bloom on your face, his heart fluttering. “You make a pretty hot devil, too.”
His lips were once again on yours, a feeling you had started to really enjoy since the first time it happened. You hoped it would have been happening a lot more from this point too. He pulled back at the feeling of a stare burning into him, his brow furrowing as he searched for the culprit. You saw his gaze flicker behind you, focusing on something for a second before he looked back to you. “Y’know they’re watching us through the window right?” he muttered. You audibly groaned, rolling your eyes as you leaned your head forward to dick it into his chest. “They’re insufferable.”
It was mere seconds before you heard the click of the door, followed by hasty, heavy footsteps that could only be from Steve. You pulled away from Eddie to stand beside him, still keeping close proximity, but just so you could see your friend. “Dude, what the hell? I told you to have her home by ten. It’s nearly three am!” he yelled. Robin sent you a sorry look over his shoulder. It looked like she had tried to keep him inside when they had heard the van pull up, but obviously wasn't very successful. And he clearly had no regard for your poor neighbours.
“You didn’t specify, I thought you meant ten am,” he teased, twisting his wrist so the clock face of the watch that decorated it was facing up towards him. “And in that case I actually brought her back early.” He looked over to you and flashed you a wink. You had to stifle a laugh so Steve didn’t turn to yell at you too.
The Harrington boy’s anger could be felt even from the distance you were at, and despite the lack of light you were sure you could see a vein popping out of his face too. “Don’t get smart with me Munson, I’m gonna kick your ass.”
With a sigh you took a step in front of Eddie, acting sort of as a human shield if your friend decided to take his little charade as far as that. “Okay, momma bear, calm down.” He looked almost offended that you weren’t taking his side. “Let’s not forget you lose every fight you participate in. Please don’t embarrass yourself more.”
Steve scoffed, his mouth gaping at you. You could hear Eddie laughing behind you, as well as Robin giggling behind her hand so your friend didn’t hear her. “I beat Billy the other year,” he tried. You pursed your lips, cocking your head as if to ask really? Surely he didn’t believe that. The look made him give in. “Okay, fine. I didn’t beat Hargove. I could take Eddie though.”
You took the time to size them both up, looking at Steve’s build compared to your dates. They were both pretty similar, but Eddie had a make believe hard exterior, and chunky rings donning his fingers, Steve didn’t have any of that advantage. He was pretty much all talk. “Yeah… no. Sorry, Stevie.”
“Y’know what?” he said, resting his hands on his hips as the infamous motherly side of the man appeared to your eyes. “Inside.” He pointed to the front door with his finger, forcing you to bite back a laugh as he tried to treat you like one of the kids he was always babysitting. “Now, missy.”
“Yes, mom,” you sighed, turning over your shoulder to glance at Eddie as you started stepping closer to Steve. You blew him a teasing kiss, holding your hand up to your ear in an imitation of a phone. “Call me, Munson.” With the promise that he would, you scurried inside with Robin, leaving the two males to sort their issues out together, as you recounted the entire night to your best friend starting with one word to sum it all up. Magical.
#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things fic
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My Guiding Lights (Tommy Shelby x reader)
Summary: Tommy does not handle being out of control well, it claws at him like street cats, fighting and biting until he cannot handle it anymore. So when you are giving birth to his first child, he takes matters into his own hands.
This is my contribution to @emilyhufflepufftlk 300 followers celebration! Congrats again!
My prompt was: the one with the birth
Quick disclaimer: I am not an expert in birthing practices during the 1920s nor am I Romani. For this story I did some research on both topics but not extensive, so please forgive me if I get anything inaccurate or misrepresent the Romani practices. I know I took some liberties because of what we have seen in the show.
Warnings: reader giving birth (if you haven't picked that up by now), mild language, brief mention of past violence, Tommy's mind and control freak tendencies.
Words: 4700
Tommy paced the snug of the Garrison, the few paces it consisted of. His feet guided him as his thoughts twisted and tumbled over one another. His strongest asset under attack. Stinging wasps infiltrated his mind. Fears plagued him. Stinging. Tormenting. Worry echoed with each footstep.
Back and forth.
Back and forth he paced.
He should have been utilizing these past few hours properly. The power-hungry businessman within him demanded it. Making plans for further expansion into and around London. Listening to the whispers of gossip and the hidden morsels of truth in them. Anything. Even cracking a few heads and bloodying his suit because someone looked at him wrong. Anything other than this useless pacing.
But the concern and fear kept an ever tightening chokehold around his throat, refusing to relent. So he paced.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
By the time he was done, there would certainly be a permanent groove embedded the wood floor.
Never more had he felt a predator trapped in a cage. Staring through the bars, eyeing those who stared warily at him, waiting….just waiting to sink his teeth into someone and shred them, just to momentarily sate the burning fear that choked him.
He stopped his pacing to throw back another glass of whiskey before resuming his relentless pacing. His suit jacket had been discarded within the first hour of his arrival at the Garrison. His sleeves were now rolled up, the top two buttons undone on his dress shirt. His hair most likely looked a mess with how often he had run his fingers through the dark strands. He knew this was a side of him rarely seen by the population of Birmingham. Thankfully so. For when Harry opened the door into the snug, to bring in their newest bottle of whiskey, he had physically recoiled when meeting Tommy's icy eyes. The gangster wondered how much of the manic consuming his mind bled through into his gaze, making him seem more crazed predator than human.
And so he paced.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
"Tommy, sit down." Arthur chuckled, throwing his cards down on the table. A groan left his lips when he realized that he lost another hand in the poker game Tommy was supposed to be playing with his brothers to distract him. Instead he was pacing.
Tommy ignored his older brother. His feet never stopped.
"C'mon, Tom." John smirked as he pulled the winnings closer to him. "You know Pol's takin' care of her. Esme's there too. She'll be fine."
"Not wot you was saying when your first was born, eh?" Arthur pointed out, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before draining it. "Puking behind the Garrison, you were. Drinking like a fish then to puke it all up from nerves. Me and Tommy almost put you outta your misery, knock you out cold. Fuck. Was planning on it when Ada came running' and screaming' about the baby being' born. Then you could barely walk back to Watery Lane, reeking of whiskey and vomit. If Martha wasn't holding a baby in her arms, she'd probably have hit you with her favorite pan. Yeah, that bloody heavy one too."
The corners of Tommy's mouth tilted upward as Arthur spoke, taking a moment to reminisce. He remembered Ada and Finn's births as a child himself. He could remember finally being allowed to return home after hours of being forced to stay outside while his mother screamed and cried with bringing new life into this unforgiving world. Yet with John's first, he had been a man and had a better understanding of what was going on. Of how precarious and difficult giving birth could be for both the woman and child. How there was no guarantee that both would survive. That a new life could just as easily rip away the one guiding it into the world. And all the blood and screams….
With that thought in mind, Tommy started pacing and chain smoking again. Fears renewed and clawed at him until he wanted to smash his head against the wall to just make it stop.
Right away this morning, before the sun even graced the sky and he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong.
Tommy always woke up before his wife, usually before any other Shelby member since he was a child. There was something about waking up before the rest of the world, in taking those minutes of silence and peace to allow his mind to fully awaken and his body to restart. To just be….until he put on the suit and firmly tightened the stoic mask he wore and became what he needed to be.
Once he met you, the love of his life, and convinced you to start regularly sleeping in his bed, he was now not as quick to rise and greet the sun. He would be awake, but instead of crawling out of bed like before, with a cigarette in hand and searching for a glass of whiskey to toss back, he would linger. His hand might trace lightly over your exposed skin or listen to your breathing there in the morning gray. His thoughts would writhe and twist like normal, scheming and planning before he had even rubbed the sleep from his eyes. But with you in bed next to him, he remained just a little while longer, soaking up the peace he only found with you nearby. His wife. The one who truly saw past his mask and drew out the hidden, compassionate side of him he had thought long dead and buried.
So when he woke up this morning, finding himself alone in the bed, only the first rays of sunlight hinted in the sky….he knew something was wrong.
Dressed only in a pair of knickers, Tommy rushed downstairs to find you washing the dishes you had been too tired to finish last night. Your nightgown hung loosely over your frame, but clung jealously tight against your swollen belly. As he opened his mouth to ask what you were doing, you froze, hand gripping the edge of the sink with an intense look of concentration. After two deep breaths, your eyes focused back as if waking from an uncomfortable daydream. It was then you noticed him. A beguiling smile lit up your face as you spoke softly.
"We're having a baby today."
And his whole world imploded.
Apparently, your contractions had started the hour prior and because of them you could not sleep. So instead of waking Tommy, which he was quite unhappy about and made sure you understood, you had snuck downstairs to do some chores while you waited for your contractions to progress. He logically knew it took hours until it was time for the baby's arrival, especially with the first. It did not mean he liked the idea of you suffering alone, even if you assured him you were fine.
Eventually Polly arrived, took one look at you and stated, "I had a feeling when I woke up it'd be today." Then she eyed Tommy in his undressed state, since he refused to leave his wife alone, and forcibly commanded that he get dressed and get to the betting shop. This was women's business now.
Yet while at the betting shop, he could not think. Worries gnawed away at his mind like filthy rats. Panic and despair whispered their half-truths into his ears. In his distressed state, all he could do was stare at the green doors. Knowing on the other side was his beautiful wife in labor with their first child. A baby they were both thrilled to have. Now anxiety reminded him what you must endure to bring his child into the world, to place it in his arms. And how easily he could lose both you and the already beloved baby.
Only after two hours of being open, Arthur and John shut down the shop for the day and dragged his arse to the Garrison. They kept Scudboat and Lovelock back to maintain presence at the betting shop and announce that it was a Birmingham holiday.
Hours late here he was. Still pacing. That ever tightening chokehold of fear made it hard to breathe. The heavy stone of anxiety threatened to cave in his chest. There had been no word of how you were doing. Or how the babe was. So his mind conjured nightmares to fill in the void of information. He wondered if the combination of terrifying thoughts and excessive whiskey would send him puking his guts out behind the Garrison. Now he felt a stab of regret for teasing John so ruthlessly after his own turbulent experience.
"Tommy," John murmured again, an undertone of understanding in his voice. He met his older brother's eyes, compassion shining as he spoke words of reassurance. "She'll be fine. She's strong. Pol won't let anything 'appen."
Tommy nodded silently, letting his brother's words flow over him like a cool breeze.
"Think the babe will look like Tommy?" Arthur asked, rearranging the cards in his hand. Clearly attempting to break the tense air stifling the snug.
"I fooking hope not. Poor child will be teased if he's that ugly."
Tommy lightly smacked the back of John's head, even as John just smirked and swatted him back. For a moment, the despair lightened like the sun breaking through storm clouds.
Arthur laughed loudly. "Yeah, probably best the babe takes after y/n. A beauty she is. Poor girl can't go anywhere without men just staring at 'er."
"That's me wife you're talking about." Tommy growled but without any sort of heat behind his words.
"And the perfect wife for you!" Arthur raised his glass in a toast before tossing it back. John quickly followed suit.
Tommy made a mental note to ask about who has been staring at his wife. Then he started pacing again.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Finally, the storm swirling in his chest reached its peak, battering against his resolve until it lay decimated like a ship against the merciless rocks. He had to do something. Anything. If he continued pacing, drowning himself in whiskey and cigarettes, he was going to lose what last pieces of sanity he still maintained.
No one wanted to see the consequences of that.
Without a word, he grabbed his suit jacket and yanked it on. Even before his arms were fully in the sleeves, he had thrown open the door to the snug and raced out like the devil was on his heels. From behind, he could hear Arthur and John calling out to him but he kept moving. His fears, his sudden terror, growled at his heels like vicious wolves. His need to know, to see his wife, propelled him onward.
Tommy was a man who had always liked to be in control. Who held all of the cards and could play them as he pleased. Who was three steps ahead of everyone else. It was not arrogance when he could confidently say he was the most intelligent man in Birmingham. Ever since he was a child, he had always been more clever and smarter than his peers. When others could only see a straight line, he saw multiple, twisting lines that got him farther and with more resources than that single straight line everyone else saw.
Beyond that, he needed that control as much as the air he breathed. For without it, he felt like a rowboat lost at sea, tossed about by waves and praying it would not capsize. Bad things usually happened when Tommy was not in control.
But in this situation….he had none. There was nothing he could do. There was no one he could pay for the right information. No way to be ahead of the game. He had no control over childbirth. Over the pain his wife would endure. No control if everything went to hell. There was not a goddamn thing his hands or his mind could do to solve it.
And that very simple fact terrified him down to his core.
Without a care, he threw open the front door to 6 Watery Lane and stalked in like a predator on the loose.
Almost immediately, Esme popped around the corner from the parlor. Shock initially crossed her face before morphing into confused annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest, dark eyes narrowed at him. "You can't be 'ere."
"It's me own home."
"You can't be here!" Esme practically snarled. "You'll bring bad spirits with you!"
Tommy approached his sister-in-law, his movements smooth, not giving away the way he felt his bones vibrating with agitation and concern. He stopped just in front of her, towering over her smaller form, his voice cold and clipped when he directed his question to her. "Where is she?"
Before Esme could respond, Polly stood behind her, an almost matching scowl on her face.
"You shouldn't be here, Thomas. This is women's business. You'll make the birthing further unclean if you come in."
"And bring bad spirits with you." Esme mumbled, still glaring though.
Tommy raised his eyes to the ceiling for a moment, willing himself to take a deep breath and not yell at the women in his family. He knew they still clung to many of the Romani beliefs and superstitions. Something he had never truly believed himself. All those notions about luck and bad spirits and fate….as a young boy he had disregarded it and continued to ignore them for the most part. The only thing he did believe in was curses.
When he no longer felt the urge to rampage through his own house, looking for his own wife, who was going to give birth to his own child, he lowered his eyes back to the women folk. Slowly he enunciated his next words, allowing his frustration to bleed over every syllable and hopefully make them realize how serious he was. "Where. Is. My. Wife?"
"Tommy, you can't–" Polly stopped and looked back into the parlor room, clearly listening. With a grumble, she rolled her eyes and stepped to the side just enough to indicate her begrudging willingness for Tommy to enter. "She's asking for you."
With a nod at his aunt, he crossed into the parlor room, unsure exactly what he was stepping into but knowing he needed to be here. For both himself and you.
What he saw both made his heart race and blood turn to ice. There you stood in front of the fireplace, still dressed in the loose nightgown. The firelight danced across you, highlighting your swollen belly and the sweat on your brow. Your hands tightly gripped the back of a wooden chair, your eyes pinched shut and a pained grimace on your face.
"She's close. Won't be much longer now." Polly softly said, shifting to stand by Tommy's side.
He nodded mutely at the same time your eyes slowly opened and turned to him. A stab to the gut, a bullet to the shoulder, anything would have been less painful. For it was the pain still obvious in your eyes and in every bead of sweat dotting your skin, that hurt to bear witness to. The worst was the small, shaky smile you gave him, the reassurance he needed when it should be the other way around.
"Tommy…." You barely mouthed before pinching your eyes shut again and your lips pulled back in the grimace as the next wave of contractions slammed into your body.
Immediately, Tommy moved. He shucked his suit jacket off, tossing it carelessly onto the couch. In the next step, he moved behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. "What can I do, darling? Please tell me I can help."
With the short reprieve between contractions, you leaned back, resting your head on his chest. "I'm fine."
He snorted. "You're in labor." His hand absent-mindedly ran along your side and towards your back. "How can I help?"
A soft sigh escaped you. "Right there. My lower back."
His hand returned to rubbing soothing circles and applying pressure against your lower back. In the next moment, you were leaning forward, gripping the chair with a death-like hold.
He turned his focus onto his aunt, a new layer of fear and worry dripped into his blood like poison. "Shouldn't she be….screaming?"
"Some women handle pain, even labor pains, differently." Polly stared thoughtfully at you, someone the matriarch had stated was family even before you married Tommy. "You remember when she fell and got that gash on her arm. It bleed so much, I worried she'd pass out, but the whole time she never cried. Even when I stitched her up. Brave, foolish girl."
Tommy bit the inside of his cheek as the memory swept over him. It was before your relationship became concrete, when the two of you were just friends but he wanted so much more. The story you had shared was that you tripped and fell. Later, he learned the whole truth from one of the Peaky boys. That a drunkard had knocked you down and spat on you because in his intoxicated state, he confused you for his wife who was coming to retrieve him from the bar. The next day Tommy and his brothers paid the man a visit, educating him on what happens to those who hurt persons under the protection of the Peaky Blinders.
"I need to check her." Polly said, drawing Tommy out of his memories and back into reality.
Once the contraction ended, Tommy stepped back to roll up the sleeves of his shirt again while Polly checked your dialation.
The matriarch smiled up at you. "You're just about there. You're doing so good, love."
You nodded, already leaning forward with the next onslaught of pain.
"Tommy shouldn't be 'ere, s'not right." Esme said, taking a random scarf laying around and sliding her fingers through, making sure there were no knots.
Tommy glared at her, his voice ice cold. "I'm not leaving me wife while she's in pain."
With a huff, Esme got up, muttering under her breath continuously as she stomped over and rummaged through her bag.
Tommy swung his gaze back to his aunt. "Don't force me to leave. Please." He whispered. Even to his own ears, he sounded like a little boy. A vulnerability that had been shattered under the impact of his father's fists and the realization that the world did not care for lowlife scum like him and his family. But for this….for you, he would beg to not leave your side.
Polly hesitated but something in his gaze, in his words, made her inhale sharply and nod. Perhaps she caught a glimpse of that long lost boy she had watched vanish before her eyes. "Alright, Tom, but when it's time, you do what I say. No questions asked."
"Yes, boss."
She rolled her eyes, even as the corners of her lips tilted up. "I'll get the hot water and cloths ready."
As Polly headed towards the kitchen, Tommy returned to his spot behind his wife, rubbing your lower back and whispering encouragement. He knew enough from helping horses that nature would take its course and all one could do was wait.
Esme came to his side, holding a comb. "Let me brush her hair, can't have any knots. It'll help bring luck."
For the next several minutes, Tommy and Esme worked on you. His fears continued to fester. It was obvious each contraction seemed to worsen. The few times a whimper escaped your lips, he pressed his face against your head, wishing he could take away your pain. He would give anything to alleviate your pain, to take it upon himself. But he could not. So he did what he could to help, even if he felt useless. Which irked him. Made his skin crawl at his own uselessness. Those stinging thoughts in his mind transformed into vultures, circling, circling, waiting to feast on his decaying sanity.
What chewed away most at his confidence was how unresponsive you became as labor continued. He could still hear your breathing, could feel your heartbeat. But when Esme directed a question at you, it took several tries of your name before you responded.
He could not help but wonder if your continued silence was better or worse than screaming.
After some time, you stiffened. Your head shot up to where Polly had been standing, watching you with a hawk-like precision.
"I pushed….I–I didn't mean to. It just happened–"
"Good girl, it's alright. That just means it's time." His aunt said calmly, then directed the others like the general she was. "Tommy, help her around. Sit down in that chair, I want her squatting in front of you. You'll support her. Esme, prepare the cloths."
Tommy helped his wife quickly as his aunt directed. He sat down and spread his legs wide for you to squat between, facing outward. Pain seemed etched onto your beautiful face, your breathing shallow. Sweat coated your body. As soon as you were in position, you grabbed his hands, your arms over his thighs. He clutched your hands in return, hoping it brought you some idea of relief.
Polly knelt in front of you. "Alright, love, push when your body tells you too."
Time was irrelevant as you worked and fought to bring your child into the world. Your grip on his hands was borderline crushing but he never thought to complain or try and pull away. He continued to whisper, his lips against your temple, tasting your sweat, embracing what pain he could, to try and take it from you.
"I can't, Polly." You whimpered out after some time. The first words you had spoken since Tommy walked in a couple of hours ago. "I can't….I'm so tired."
His heart shattered like a glass window listening to you. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He wished he could offer you some comfort, some relief, but this was your battle, and he was stuck on the sidelines.
Polly's dark, knowing, eyes met yours. "Yes, you can. I promise. I can feel the head. You're almost there, love. A couple more pushes then you can meet your baby. Think about that. You can meet your babe in a few minutes. Don't give up."
You nodded before giving a grunt with the next contraction.
"One more! The head almost came out!"
Tommy pressed his lips to his wife's ear. "Let's meet our child, eh? My strong wife. Let's see our baby."
He wondered if you heard his words, if that was the encouragement you needed. For in the next instant, you let out a pained cry as your body shuddered.
"Yes! One more! I've got the head!" Polly said, with her hands underneath your sweat-soaked nightgown.
"Hear that? One more, my sweet darling. One more." Tommy crooned.
Then he heard it. The squelch. The flush. The sound of life entering the world.
Immediately, you sagged in his arms, all energy drained, like a puppet with its strings cut. He grabbed a hold and fell with you to the ground, cradling you in his lap. Blood stained your dress and legs, soaking into his clothes but he did not even notice. His sole focus was on the rapid breathing of his wife, your eyes closed and lips pressed together.
"Oh love, he's beautiful." Polly cooed as she cradled the bloody bundle in her arms. She used a different cloth to wipe away his face and head, a beaming smile on her face.
At her words, Tommy felt his heart miss a beat. A son. He had a son.
"Open your eyes, love. Meet your son." Polly carefully knelt down, holding the baby. She placed the newborn on your chest.
Even as shivers rocked through your body in response to the trauma it just experienced, your hands reflexively stilled as they cradled the newborn against you.
"We need something of Tommy's to wrap him in!" Esme cried.
"Me coat." He mumbled, eyes locked onto his son. Yet relief waited at the threshold, not quite ready to enter in and erase the fears and worries Tommy still harbored.
Esme grabbed the coat, bringing it over and gently laying it over the baby and his wife's bloody, sweaty body.
While you gazed lovingly down at the baby you had brought into the world, Tommy watched his aunt and Esme turn your body carefully and reach back under your nightgown. After several long moments, the faintest hint of concern slid off Polly's face.
She glanced up at him, most likely feeling his gaze locked on her. "The afterbirth is out and her bleeding is already slowing down. She'll be alright, Tom. I promise."
And with that simple, reassuring promise, the foul air that filled his lungs with fear was knocked away with a swift kick. Relief finally crossed the threshold and anchored itself into his mind. His arms tightened around his still trembling wife. The emotional turmoil he had warred with throughout the day seeped out, leaving him emotionally exhausted. Yet through it all, he had never felt more alive. More hopeful.
His focus dropped down to the baby on your chest, his little mouth opening and closing slowly and his tiny fingers twitching. A sense of awe and wonder crawled up his spine to twist around his heart. You, his beautiful wife, had given him a child. A single tear escaped his watery eyes and dropped into your hair but neither of you seemed to notice, too absorbed in the miracle you had created together.
"You did it." He croaked out. "We've a son. Our son."
"Our baby." You murmured.
As if hearing your words, the newborn opened his eyes….and Tommy thought he could drown into the vast blue of them. For they were his eyes staring back at him.
At that moment, he knew he would do anything for his son. He thought he knew love when he gave his heart to you, when he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable with you in ways he had never been with anyone else. But this….staring into his son's eyes. It was a far different feeling than he expected. For you, his wife, he would sell his soul to the devil without a second thought to take care of you. But for his son, for this new babe in your arms that with a single look shook the foundations of his world, he would storm the gates of hell and rip the devil's heart out himself if anyone dared harm his child.
"I love you." Tommy whispered as overwhelming emotions welled up in his chest, clinging to his throat, and threatening to escape in sobs of sheer relief and devotion. Instead he placed a kiss to your temple and ran a single finger over the top of his son's head.
"I love you too, Tommy." You glanced up at him, from where you reclined against his chest, before turning back to your baby. "And we love you. Mummy and daddy love you so much."
Tommy stared down at his family, the love of his life and his newest reason to be better, to do better. His heart stretched and strained, trying desperately to fit the love overfilling it, just trying to accommodate it all somehow.
As he continued to gaze down at his son while Polly helped you to try and feed him, he knew one thing for certain. What ruthlessness people thought he harbored was nothing compared to what would be unleashed if anyone dared to touch his family. A peaked cap or a bullet to the brain would be the least of their concerns. He would overthrow governments to keep his family safe. He would break countries to keep his family protected. Nothing was outside of the realm of possibility he would do. For as his love grew to encompass his new son, his need to see him and you safe mirrored it. Whatever it would take. He would see it done.
For his wife and now his son were his guiding lights and he refused to allow anyone to put them out.
Tag List:
Peaky Blinders- @slytherinicequeen @geekandbooknerd @lilyrachelcassidy @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @minxsblog
(lemme know if you wanna be added or deleted from the tag list)
#mzwrites#peaky blinders#bbc peaky blinders#by order of the peaky blinders#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy shelby fanfic#tommy shelby x reader#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby x reader#john shelby#arthur shelby#polly gray#aunt polly#esme shelby#ems300
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Have I ever mentioned how much I love Dapper?
They are so baby and and smart but tiny but mastermind. This egg baby is an evil mastermind but also two beans tall and baby and you KNOW they still cuddle their dad to sleep at night because he missed him.
The hilarious cynical humor and the lack of object permanence and the way she LOVES to flex her gear. The tiny string lights because I bet that’s how the Fed got her in a costume without killing any more employees. It was to slow her movements while she chased after them with the dapper shovel and they saw it and went “good enough”.
How brave they are and how they love to show love by pranking and insulting and smashing your head with a hammer but also loving through brownies and dancing with his sister and hugging his father.
This little guy has me in a CHOKEHOLD.
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Yandere! Shuji Hanma x Reader
TW: violent themes, kidnapping, drug use, guns, knives, non-consensual actions, mentions of murder, blood, female reader
Word count: 3918
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" You heard his voice taunt you as you stumbled through the poorly lit room, trying to be as quiet as possible. You already tried crying, screaming, begging for him to stop this, but there was no reasoning with him. This was not the same Shuji you thought you knew. The only choice that remained: escape. Leave and never look back. That would be easier said than done though. Every door, every window was a dead end. Every route strategically blocked, locked, and a few even sealed off permanently, impossible to breach. Hanma had once taught you how to pick locks and force a door open, but that would not work in the slightest here. The locks on these doors were unlike any you had ever seen, resembling contraptions you thought possible only in horror films. The bars on the windows were reinforced, and the glass itself was frosted so that no one would be able to see in either. Hope all but disappeared when you opened one door, to find it blocked by a cement wall. It was obvious by now, help would not be coming for you. If you wanted to get out, you would have to find a way to do it yourself.
"Sweethearttt," the nickname now sounded anything but sweet, "it's no fun if you don't play with me. Make a noise and I'll come give you a kiss." The sound of his voice getting closer and closer heightened the panic that had long ago set in and you picked up your pace, making your way to another door. Taking a deep breath, you reached out and twisted the handle, praying that the door wouldn't creak as you pulled it open. It didn't. Finally, a stroke of luck in this hell house. Entering another dark room, you tried to make sense of your surroundings. Stumbling into the leg of a table, you heard the door behind you slam shut, freezing you where you stood.
"Caught ya!" He yelled as he took you by surprise from behind again. This time, taking you into a tight choke hold, one hand pried your mouth open. You felt a quick, harsh kiss to your temple as he placed something bitter on your tongue and forced your mouth shut. "Swallow it." Not trusting him, or the pill dissolving on your tongue, your jaw tightened and tried to resist, but he was prepared. His large hand tightened its grip and began to move, forcing the pill to naturally move about in your mouth until it was threatening to fall back. "I'm not asking, Sweetheart. Swallow my fucking candy." He tightened his chokehold on you with a growl of annoyance and you whimpered, gasping for air, and feeling your body betray you. The pill fell back causing you to choke. Coughing, trying your hardest to resist it, but to no avail. Hanma pulled your hair back until you were looking up at him, his expression as smug as ever, "Finally. I know you know how to swallow better than that."
Releasing the grip on your hair, he wrapped his arm around you, trapping you in an almost hugging position now. "Bet you're wondering what that was, aren't you? Too bad I don't know!" His maniacal laughter filled the room, as he excitedly explained the situation you were now in. "See I never quite know what each day with you is going to bring. You send me on a different trip every time we're near and I don't think you even realize it. So now it's your turn. Fair is fair. I'm going to show you exactly what that feels like. I’m going to make you understand how much I love you. You’re going to get addicted to me, crave every second we’re together. You’re finally going to love me as much as I love you if it’s the last thing we do.”
Not missing the fatal threat laced in his words, a new fear began to set in. Hanma had no intention of ever letting you go. He would do anything to die together. “I mixed up a nice bag of candy just for you. Some I found randomly - here and unfortunately, there,” a shiver shook through his body as if he was grossed out by his own thoughts. “Others I bought just for this little game. A few I even made myself! So, Sweetheart, which one do you think you just swallowed? Hm?" Your body went rigid as the realization that you were nothing short of a guinea pig in Hanma's new game set in. "You look scared. That's no fun. Let's get your blood pumping!" With that, an arm abandoned its grasp on you and reached deep into his pocket, jingling around the contents before retreating with a flick of his wrist. The sound of the flick couldn't be mistaken. Hanma had pulled out the pocket knife he kept on himself at all times.
"Ah Ah, I wouldn't get squirmy if I were you," he warned and you felt the blade come up to your jaw, dancing along your skin as his lips did the same on your neck. The sensation from his kisses mixed with the fear of the blade threatening to break the skin had your mind fuzzy, handing complete control over to your seemingly once sane boyfriend. His lips continued to trail their way up and the blade pressed ever so harder, resulting in a hiss from you that did nothing more than spur on his antics. "Do you know what I have always thought would look good on you?"
Your eyes shifted down the best they could, trying to recall what you were even wearing when you were trapped inside this prison. He caught the action and laughed lightly to himself. "I'm not talking about these, (Y/n)," he said as he simultaneously reached down to cut open your shirt while biting onto your ear and giving a light tug. "No, I'm thinking something much hotter than this." The knife teased it’s way down your torso and twisted, almost knicking your stomach. "How hard do you think I'll get seeing 'H.S.' carved into your side? What do you say we find out?" He asked with no real intention of hearing your opinion on the matter.
The sting you felt as the knife broke the skin had you writhing trying to escape his grasp, but his hold on you only tightened. A harsh tone replaced his playful one as he reprimanded you.
"Stand still and let me enjoy this," he threatened. "Do you really want a trail of blood leading me right to you during our little game of hide and seek? Be a doll and take the pain for a minute." Holding your breath, you had no choice but to let him finish, wincing as he ran a thumb over his handy work. Bucking his hips into you and leaning his head back into the wall, he groaned. "So fucking hot. I want you to wear my name forever. Let it remind us that you belong to me, and only me." His arm that had been holding you in place came down to grip your hip, pulling you further into his hips. The knife was trailing its way down until you felt it trace your ass, "What do you say I give you some more?" The hand holding the knife quickly moved up and smacked his carved initials, causing a tinge of pain. "Run," he instructed, catching you by surprise as he unexpectedly released you, pushing you forward slightly. Confusion from his actions made you hesitate, but quickly run away when you sensed him leaning off of the wall behind you.
The rooms were a blur as you quickly made your way through door after door, hoping to gain some distance between the two of you. It was dark, and you were noisy, but if you could get far enough away, you thought maybe you could search for a good place to hide for the time being. After a few minutes, you made it to a room you couldn't recall from before. Hanma didn't seem to be anywhere near you yet so this seemed like a good point to focus on being quiet again. In the corner of the room, there was a door. Maybe a closet? Deciding to chance it with the discovery, you made your way over and quickly turned the handle, pulling it towards yourself without a second thought.
"Miss me?!" Hanma yelled out, hanging against the doorway from the other side. Immediately he reached out, putting a hand on your throat and bringing his lips to yours. His tongue forced its way in as you felt your back slam against the nearest wall. His kiss was aggressive as he used his tongue to deliver another pill into your mouth. This one felt different and had no taste. Your hands tried to push him off but his free arm came up and pinned one to the wall. Leaning into you harder and pressing his knee in between your legs, his tongue wrestled with yours forcing the pill to the back of your throat. His lips still to yours, his hand on your throat angled your head up until the pill was so far back you had no choice but to swallow. Feeling him smirk against your lips, he let go of you again, this time running off on his own, purposefully smacking something glass off a table as he passed. "Don't trip on that. Would hate to see you get all cut up before I get to you!"
Just as fast as he had appeared, he was gone, leaving you with no choice but to follow after him the way you had come. Somehow this was worse than him chasing you. The fear that you were walking yourself into a trap, instead of running to safety, was all too real. Pressing forward, the pile of broken glass caught your eye as you passed it, showcasing the last thing you would expect in this predicament. Carefully picking up a picture you would recognize anywhere, your mind began to race with thoughts of a better time, a sweeter Shuji. Desperate to get through to that side of him again, you clutched onto the picture and the memories behind it as you raced after him. In your heart you knew he loved you, and this picture you hoped would be just the tool needed to remind him too. But that was a fool's dream, as you would soon see.
Room after room there seemed to be no trace of him yet again. Stopping at another dead end you were tempted to sit and wait, the exhaustion from the chase taking a toll on you. The doubt you couldn’t shake wouldn’t let you though. The ‘what ifs’ ate away at you subconsciously. What if he really wasn’t the Shuji you had loved all this time? Looking down at the picture held firmly in your hand, you let yourself get lost in his smile. The smile, you thought, had always been genuine despite it being the first time the two of you had ever met. Anyone else probably would have ignored your request to pretend to be your boyfriend just to get you off the radar of a creep you had caught the attention of a few streets back. Not your Shuji though. Without missing a beat he picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as if it was routine for the two of you, hugging you like you had been the only thought on his mind all day. The way he told you he missed was so convincing you swore you could have fallen for it yourself. It might have been your plan but he was the one running the show. When your brain halted from the stress, and surprise, of the situation playing out before you, he was ready to lead the way. No one questioned the speed at which he pulled out his cell phone, telling you his mom was harassing him about you not making it for dinner the night before and how he needed to show her a picture of the two of you together asap to assure her he didn’t mess up the best relationship he ever had. You felt your face flush as you remembered just how the butterflies in your stomach felt as you saw the two of you on the front facing camera of his phone. The heat of your cheeks rose remembering how your face showed every bit of how taken aback you were by how good he was at this - too good. Even he noticed it as he snapped a photo, quickly pulling away just enough to look at you, “Well that face won’t do. She’s going to think you really did break up with me.”
Something about the way he looked at you in that moment lit a fire within you, snapping you back to reality with a new confidence - a confidence that was as eager to please him as it was determined to lose the almost forgotten creep.
“Sorry, you’re right! I got a little nervous thinking about your parents seeing this. You know your mother loves to post our pictures everywhere.” He let out a little chuckle and gave you a knowing smile, impressed by the way you were able to bounce back fast from your horrible acting a moment prior. Holding up the camera in front of the two of you again, he posed for the camera while you made a slightly out of character decision to kiss him. It was innocent really, on the cheek, but the fact that he was a complete stranger paired with the compromising way you were wrapped close around his body made it feel like so much more. Without missing a beat you heard him snap the photo. The image it captured could have fooled anyone into thinking it bore witness to a smitten young couple, both parties completely enamored with one another. If the two of you really intended to send a photo for the reasons you claimed, this would have more than sufficed, but being swept up in the moment led you to a slew of photos, each one more natural than the previous. Before you knew it you had 14 different pictures and no real reason for them. The creep in tow seemed to have bought the act and was turned around, leaving the scene at a quick pace.
“This is cute and all doll, but I could take care of him for you.. for good. Just give me the green light,” he whispered into your ear as the two of you watched him retreat, taking care to make sure any nosey onlookers wouldn’t take notice of his offer, “and you will never have to worry about dealing with him again.”
The way his eyes seemed to burn holes in the back of the creep made you uneasy, causing you to feel almost guilty that you had made him a target of some sort. His hand tattooed with the kanji for “punishment” across is gripped tighter at the phone in its grasp and the weight of the meaning ate away at you. With a less confident demeanor about you, you gave out a shaky response and pushed out of his grasp, “Uh, no thank you. I don’t really support that kind of thing, even if he was a perve.”
“You don’t support that kind of thing?” he repeated back to himself, as if it was a question rather than a statement, “Oh! You thought..? Listen, I meant by making you mine. I was trying to ask you out on a date.” His other hand, you now noticed to be tattooed with the kanji for “sin”, came to the back of his neck and rubbed at it, letting out a laugh shy and contrary to the personality you had witnessed up until this point. “Thought it would be a lot easier to ‘fake date’ if we were really dating.”
If the woman you were now could travel back in time and warn you from then, maybe you wouldn’t be in this mess. What’s worse, you thought, was that you don’t think you would have been able to believe even yourself while looking at the man in the photo smiling back at you.
“Reminiscing on the old times without me?” his voice broke you out of your trance but not quick enough to evade his hold on you. Holding you tight from behind, he leaned over and rested his head against yours, peering down onto the photo. “God, you don’t know how much I love you. This was the start of it all. I swore from that moment on I would kill anyone that hurt you. Of course, I couldn’t tell you that.” his arms wrapped around you tighter and he snuggled into your neck as he spoke. An outsider looking in would have thought the two of you were sharing an intimate moment. Not even you guessed the sinister memories he was confessing to you. “The way you turned down my offer to take care of him told me all I needed to know. You, sweetheart, would never let me murder someone. So I did what any real man would and took care of the dirty work behind your back. The gruesome things we do for love sometimes.” His face contorted into a mix of rage and distaste for the memories he reminisced, but his seeming polar opposite personality disappeared as quickly as it surfaced. His signature flirty smile took over as he squinted his eyes and pressed a finger to your nose, ”Ew.”
The giggle he let out nauseated you as you really let his words sink in. There was not a shred of doubt in you that Hanma had killed that man from the day you met. You began to feel faint as questions ate away at you. Did he kill anyone else? Who? Worst of all, how could you not notice? Surely there had to be signs - red flags that a live-in significant other would never be able to miss - right? Was there anything you could have done if only you had noticed sooner?
“Oh don’t be like that,” he pleaded. Squeezing you into a tight hug again, he focused back on the photo, “If I would have been honest, you would have stopped me. I couldn’t do that after you had come to me crying out for help. I did it for your sake.” His thoughts seemed to linger as his voice trailed off for a moment, but not long enough. “You will see it my way soon enough. With enough of these,” he pulled out the bag of pills again and chucked a handful into his own mouth. You tried with all your might to pull away, thinking he was distracted, but his strong arms kept you locked in place. He wasn’t distracted one bit. Pulling open your mouth, the forceful stretch burning at the sides of your false smile, he leans over and spits the pills into your mouth. Your head is tilted back until enough saliva forces you to swallow or choke to death. Mentally you wanted to just choke, end it right here and now, but your body unfortunately still had some natural fight in it.
Just like that, he’s up and running again, maniacal laughs getting further and further out of ear shot. Scurrying to your feet you try to think of a new plan, and quick. A rational thought was hard to find by now in the sea of fear, adrenaline, and drugs. ”Think, think,” you internally pleaded to no avail.
That was when you noticed a light. Had it been there before? Was it flashing? Your vision had long been playing tricks on you from the exhaustion and what was assumed to be side-effects of whatever drugs he force fed you and now you weren’t sure what you were seeing. Real or not, you fixated on it. The light put you in a trance and you made your way straight for it. A corner of your conscience told you not to, but it was a lost cause. The next thing you knew, you were surrounded in the brightness of the next room, looking down at it - hope - in the form of a little black handgun laying on a chair. Everything about it screamed to you that it was a trap, but what other choice did you have? Picking it up without another thought you turned around to make your way back into the darkness.
This time through Hanma's lovesick torture maze, you had a new confidence about you. Trying to keep your guard up, you checked both directions as you entered each room, gun gripped tight in hand. It was quiet and the rooms were already thrashed from previous struggles so nothing seemed to be out of place to you. Your grip on reality was fading further and further the more you searched for your captive, determined to end this as fast as possible. The gun gave you one last plan of attack, but deep down you knew Hanma would always outsmart you.
And that he did.
"What do you have there?" He casually called out as he stepped out from a doorway to the left. The gun didn't seem to phase him in the slightest. He almost sounded cocky even.
"Shhhh, calm down," he coos as he kisses a tear running down your cheek. His free hand smoothed back against your hair, rubbing your head as he continued his attempts to calm you. "Calm down, calm down. Why are you getting so worked up, babe? It's not like I did this," he whispered and your eyes snapped open as you heard the click of the trigger. The next second seemed like a lifetime as you waited for everything to stop. It was bittersweet in a way that it never did. The relief you felt when you realized the gun might not be loaded began to trigger a laughter rumbling through your chest, almost too unreal to believe. As soon as it started Hanma's laugh rang out loud and he loosened his hold around you just a bit. "That's it, that's IT! You feel it now - the excitement you give me every day. THAT is what it feels like to be in love with you. Never knowing what's next," he spins you to face him and his hand is around your throat instantly pinning you to the nearest wall. "Never knowing if I might just," click the trigger sounds off against your jaw as he grins down upon your shaking form, "DIE from loving you."
Just like that, there it was again - that uncontrollable laugh encouraging him to continue toying with you. His grip on your throat tightened as he got excited and he kissed the barrel of the gun before placing his forehead against yours to look you right in your eyes. All your laughter ceased almost as fast as it started, replaced with intense cries as you felt yourself melting under his gaze. This was the look you once swore you needed to fall asleep to every night, that you needed so much you could dream of it, but this wasn't the same Hanma at all behind those eyes.
"Please, stop this."
#yandere hanma shuji#yandere Tokyo revengers#yandere Hanma x reader#yandere Tokyo revengers x reader#Tokyo revengers x reader#Hanma shuji x reader
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✨Fic Writing Review 2023✨
Tagged by @perhapswhoknowsvamp!
I'm hoping to get the numbers up before the end of the year, but I know if I don't do this now I will forget to do it, so here it is!
Words and Fics
29,332 words published on AO3 in 2023
17 fics published on AO3
2 Tumblr ficlets that haven't made their way to AO3 (yet)
9 WIPs that I might actually work on some day
4 fics in permanent purgatory (AKA I lost momentum and I may never get it back but I don't want to relegate them to my Abandoned folder)
Top 3 by Kudos
Body Language (54) - Hookhausen as seen by Ricky Starks
Tap Out (53) - My AdaMJF kinkmeme fill
Sound and Vision (52) - My Hookhausen New Years event fic
Author's Favorite
50 Ways to Say I Love You - This started as a list of prompts that looked interesting, and then I decided to write a drabble for each prompt. It ended up mostly being fueled by WIP Wednesdays here on Tumblr, which finally got me over the line to finish all 50! I like a lot of the fics I've written this year, but this one sticks out just for how long it took me to do, and how I kept chipping away at it to get it finished.
Top 3 Ships
Hookhausen
JungleCorpse (Thanks Katy!)
Max Squared
Fandom Events in 2023
Hookhausen New Year event (Even if the fic was late!)
I don't know if WIP Wednesdays counts as an "event", but it's definitely helped me keep progress on fics.
Upcoming Projects
I'm working on a longer JungleCorpse fic that Wren inspired forever ago, which is at least 50% designed to make Katy keyboardsmash in the comments.
There is definitely some more Max Squared in my future, I've got a few different fics on the go so we'll see which one gets finished first!
Writing reflection
This has been a hell of a year! At the start of the year the writers block had me in a chokehold, but I managed to break free and get a fair amount written. I've branched out as well, I'm used to writing for one ship at a time so it's been nice to write for several ships at the same time.
The biggest thank you has to go to the amazing group of wrestling people on here, and in the group chat. You guys have inspired me and kept me going, even when the ideas seemed to be impossible (Yes Vamp, that does mean you!) Thank you all so much ❤️
Rules: Feel free to show whatever stats you have. Only want to show Ao3 stats? Rock on. Want to include some quantitative info instead of stats? Please do this. Want to change how yours is presented? Absolutely do that. Would rather eat glass than do this? Please do eat glass, I’ve heard it’s good for your gums.
Tagging [please view the rules! I think they are great rules!!! Except the glass thing, don't chew glass. If you don't want to do this, please feel free to ignore completely]: @elorianna, @glorious-blackout and anyone else that fancies looking at your stats for the year!
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posting it, don’t care, I’ll clean it up for ao3. Slow burn, fix-it maybe?, set after the fateful murder/suicide of “The Only Man In The Sky", eventual smut, just give me time, I’ll get there, Homelander-needs-a-friend sort of fic
Chapter 2. We sat grown quiet at the name of love
Chapter 3. He touched me, so I live to know that such a day, permitted so
Chapter 4. She rose to his requirement, dropped the playthings of her life.
Pygmalion
Chapter 1. That she, dear she, might take some pleasure of my pain
They were whispering to each other, the stupid creatures, not realizing he could hear them clear as day. One of them (your roommate) hurriedly asking you if that was really the Homelander on their couch and whether that was allowed and what you were going to do about it. It was almost too much effort to form a coherent desire to shut them up permanently. Almost. Once he would have found the acrid burn of their smoldering flesh grounding… soothing even… (before Stormfront) It wouldn’t take long. These people wouldn’t matter, wouldn’t be missed… He knew what SHE would have said…
But you came back into his view and took his hand — bold as brass ladies and gentlemen are we all seeing this? — took his hand as easily as you had in that back alley where you had found him trying to gather himself after the news… (after Stormfront). But he would not think of it. Easier to think of your disrespect, of your pathetic little hand on his (we were as gods) oh so easily crushable, all of you so easily annihilated and for what? To garner more hatred, more fury, more ratings falling so hard, all against the god they should have adored.
But there wasn’t any hatred on your pinched sad little face. Just some alien emotion that he couldn’t name, couldn’t quite pin down but made his chest contract painfully, made the room spin and the white noise in his ears climb until he could barely hear your soft, soft voice asking him something.
“… if you wanna lay down you can have my bed okay? I’ll bring you some tea and you can just lay down and not think about it for a while. Is that okay?”
And he sneered, almost snarled, ready to throw more vitriol in your sad, little worried (that was it! worried! HA!) face ready to tell you just how ugly and ordinary your low bed was. Your run down apartment. Your chipped mug of hot swill. How it all disgusted him with its squalid, grey putrid mediocrity.
But you smiled. A sad, tired smile. And it hurt, devastatingly so, it was agony because you spoke again in that soft, soft voice and your words were acid. They burned with the intensity of their ignorance.
“Look… I know what a panic attack feels like, and those cameras… I’m sorry… you can stay as long as you li—“
And he cut them short before they could dig any deeper, before he would have to hear you say them again. (That’s how he had ended here in the first place, a soft “I’m sorry” and those damnable hands of yours) He cut them off with a hand on your windpipe and the fear in your eyes, the familiar, comforting fear (like Madelyn’s) that made him know exactly who he was, who he was meant to be to you, his worshipper. Not this, not this drowning, not this fog of rage and impotence and NEED for the cracked porcelain and cheap tea you had brought him along with some half-assed attempt at UNDERSTANDING (he snarled at the thought) at COMFORT, as if he could ever find any comfort in your wallowing painful ordinariness.
But he dropped you from his chokehold and heard you retching for air. And he didn’t know why. And he watched you crawl back up and let you do so without putting you down like the waste of space you were. And he didn’t know why. He looked at your tired sad little face expecting fear, expecting anger, expecting the last spark he needed to ignite this place and all inside it.
But all you showed was hurt. Straight into his eyes for just a second before you fled the room and slammed the door behind you, cracked tea mug and furious Homelander and all.
And for a second, maybe the exact same length of your hurt, he felt shame for what he had done. And though he trampled it and buried it as he had every emotion that had ever threatened to destroy him… Still he lay on your bed and fell asleep to the miserable sound of your tears. Unable to leave, unable to leave YOU, like this.
****
It was the sound of typing that woke him up, familiar as it was from a childhood spent hearing scientists enter data. The room was dark and he was warm under a blanket he could not remember using. He couldn’t remember how long he had been out either, though if he strained himself there was a blurry memory of Ashley’s shrill voice and your own, angry and harried, behind a closed door.
He couldn’t remember when he had last slept this deeply.
But what he did remember was the sound of typing and the blue soothing glow of a computer screen working long into the hours of the night (as all Vought employees were liable to do eventually). And he could remember you, your scent of bargain-bin vanilla soap and the steady beat of your heart.
Someone had cleaned the spilled chamomile and supermarket china.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, finally mustering enough outrage through his sleep muddled brain to make the question sound like an accusation instead of a child’s plea.
You jumped in your seat, turning immediately (gratifyingly) to stare at him in fear, your heart beat spiking pleasingly.
But the voice you answered in was all wrong, anxious yes, but more sheepish than cowed.
“I’m sorry… I didn’t want to wake you up with the lights. I’ll be done in a minute and you can go back to sleep.”
But he’d had enough sleep and was now fully awake and calculating the myriad little changes that had taken place since you last had spoken. No more heartbeats in the vicinity but yours and his, the faint smell of unburnt gunpowder in unfired guns, Ashley…
“Vought,” he spat out, viciously.
At least you had the decency to blush guiltily. He should have known they were involved all along…
“They WERE here,” you said, eyes fixed on your still glowing computer screen, refusing to meet Homelander’s. As good admission of guilt as any. “But I didn’t let them in! I told them you were sleeping and they just evacuated my roommates. Paid for the hotel and everything…”
There was a heavy pause.
Homelander could only hear the deafening roar of your heartbeat, smell the dust on the old parquet floor and furiously decide that this was too detailed to fake and you were too pathetic to hire. But then the question remained…
“Why did you stay?”
You blush again and avoid looking at him, stammer some poppycock about needing to finish work but finally admit in defeat…
“… I didn’t want you to wake up alone…”
And this time you DO look at each other, one set of furious baby blues against the watery brown of your own. They are dark rimmed and thick with lashes, your brown, unremarkable eyes, but they burn into Homelander’s memory like a brand and finally it is he who has to lower his gaze catching just the barest glimpse of your throat, now blossoming in sickly yellow and purple bruises. He grits his teeth and grimaces like a child who is about to be made to apologize and is planning to put up a fight. But still he sees your hand jumping to your throat in silent accusation.
It is drowned in the bottomless pit of his fuckups and your endless human need for his obeisance, for the humiliation of your betters. That brief, glorious promise of safety and comfort (love, shelter) (“didn’t want you to wake up alone…”, “didn’t want to wake you up with the lights…”) is irretrievably lost in the dark necklace of bruises he has placed around your neck.
But you don’t say it. Instead, you say the most damnably nonsensical thing in the world.
“Pain is transitive.” You don’t seem nervous or tired when you say it, just determined.
“What the hell kind of hippie nonsense is that?”
“I mean…” you stammer out, blushing furiously. “We pass it along, you know? We get hurt and we hurt others, and I… I try not to do that anymore.”
Homelander says nothing, possibly because what else would there be to say? You are worse than that dewy-eyed idiot Starlight, that’s for sure. Impossibly, hopelessly naive. But he smiles when he thinks it, the first real smile you’ve seen from him all day, sharp as a knife and twice as bright.
“But an apology would be nice…” you add hopefully.
Homelander doesn’t answer and finally you get tired of waiting for him in the dark and resume your work. You have been typing for some time, figuring he had fallen back asleep when you hear him speak again, softer this time, almost tentative, strangely intimate in the dark of the room.
“What are you working on anyway?”
Not that he cares. Not that he gives two shits about what the masses do when they’re on their own. He just wants to keep hearing your voice.
And he gets an even better bang for his buck because you laugh, short and so sweet it hurts.
“Don’t ask me if you don’t have a couple of hours to spare.”
This is better, heaps better than the pity and the unspoken apology and the miles of tension. This is starting to feel good. So he gives himself a shake and lays back on your bed, arms crossed behind his head, leather straining against his stretched back, against the releasing tension of his body. He goes for his best indulgent tone, his best “mentoring the newbie” one, because who wouldn’t love to have the Homelander asking about their day? (millions of people after today) No one! That’s who!
“I guess I can spare a few more,” he says with mock exasperation and is rewarded with one more smile from you. “If it’s TOO bad, it’ll just put me to sleep again.”
You stop your incessant typing and outlined by the soft glow of your screen your face seems almost lovely to him.
“It’s about a king… a hero… who loses everything…”
He turns his back to you, sulking, and wraps the blanket more securely around himself. You didn’t need to lay it on so thick! He wasn’t an idiot, he could see what you were trying to do.
“I mean it!” You say, embarrassed. “I’m not trying to be cute! It’s an old story, and I’m trying to write about the way people watched this story. Because the old king loses everything and dies and the people he loves die too and nowadays people think the story is about the randomness of suffering but…”
Homelander listens in spite of himself. Thinks of that moment in the alley where you found him. He had said it to you too… How was it fair? How was any of it fair? That gods should perish and little people like you should live…
“… it isn’t about chance. When it was written people thought that suffering would teach you compassion. The story wasn’t for the old king, the hero, the story was about the audience learning how to feel compassion…” You’ve grown bolder and to your misfortune you add softly: “It made me think of you…”
And he was on you with the speed of a striking serpent, hands on your chair’s armrests, face inches from yours. You can see the tension on his jaw and the hint of his canines, lips pulled almost back like an angry animal’s. The dizzying speed of his mood changes is even more frightening than the smoldering half-glow of red around his eyes.
“Watch what you’re about to say young lady, it could be the last time you speak…”
You remember what your roommate had told you about the suicidal girl on the news. You remember the SWAT team Vought sent to evacuate you. Try not to think about it, try not to let fear drown you, keep your eyes glued to the monster’s in front of you. You think of the cameras everywhere, of the movie that came out in spite of it all and his too-soon, too-glib denunciation of the woman he loved. You only know half-stories and half-truths and even then it all seems too horrible to bear.
“I thought…” You will yourself to speak through parched lips. “ It’s different when it’s a real person… it isn’t… you shouldn’t have to put your pain on display…”
He’s so close you catch it from the angry hiss of his inhaled breath, from the swift wrinkling of his nose, the quickly forming moisture on his eyes. You are about to apologize, horrified at the tears he stubbornly refuses to shed, but he cuts you off immediately.
“What do YOU know of suffering?!” He demands giving your chair a shake, elated at the high squeak of fear you produce. Much better than that cloying pity.
But you throw him for a loop again, third time in a single day, because in spite of the terror in your face, you argue. The height of hubris and danger and you feel like a suicidal fool for even trying, but you ARGUE because that wasn’t what you meant or wanted and the stubborn, old hunger to be understood is greater than your caution, or maybe even your will to live.
“I don’t! I don’t know anything about anything but… But I don’t think suffering teaches you a damn thing! I just…”
He wants to savor your terror, the stuttering in your voice, would have plunged into it head first if you had looked away, if you had cried or begged for mercy. He would have given you good cause for terror and perhaps regretted it later, after painting the room red in your entrails.
But you do not beg, you clench your teeth and he can feel how they want to chatter and shake in the humming of your jaw. You do cry but you do so fiercely and looking him in the eyes and you KEEP arguing— oh folks, oh ladies and gentlemen of the jury — you spit it out in anger that tries to bury the fear (a part of him can respect that).
“It’s us! People! Humans! It’s pity and worry and concern!” That should have been your death sentence except you grab hold of his forearms, cling to them desperately and then say it without shame or hesitancy or a hint of calculation: “Love! People learn because of love! The first sign of civilization is not a spear but a broken and healed up femur, do you understand? Because without love all we do is pass it along… pain…”
And he is breathing heavily, lips still pulled back, the armrests of your chair in his hands cracked at some point during your confrontation… but the angry, red glow of his eyes has subsided and you do look away finally. You keep your eyes on the floor, feeling your heart in your throat, wondering if you’re going to piss yourself because you suddenly realize how close you were to some horror you couldn’t quite imagine.
“You,” he says after a deep, uneven breath and chuckles (chuckles despite being soaked in sweat, hands still trembling with exertion). “You are a silly-billy, has anyone told you that?”
For good measure he bops your nose and smiles (too full of teeth and with that edge of hysteria still), heaves himself up and even claps his hands together like a dad in an old sitcom about to leave a particularly delectable BBQ. You stare slack jawed at the man pushing back impeccable blonde hair from his face and jovially excusing himself, but he’s really gotta run, leave you to your business and head back to his. And in that instant you know you’re about to lose a one of a kind opportunity and that anyone in their right mind WOULD make sure to lose it given each and everyone of the thousands of red flags he’s flashed for you today.
But you’ve been too cautious all your life.
“Hey!” You call out and flush at the skeptical raise of his eyebrows, quickly reminded that you’re about to offer this to THE Homelander. “Um… I know you didn’t like the tea… but I’m going to make coffee now and…”
He cuts you off with an aggrieved sigh, hands on his hips, rolling his eyes and you are about to melt in relief, and terror and embarrassment all at once because you rightfully think he’s about to fly off as abruptly as flew in, when he scoffs with an indulgent, go-ahead-and-try-me smile: “Milk. I’ll have some milk if you have any.”
And you’re about to protest, you only have soy or oatmeal or fat free, lactose free. But he smiles indulgently, trying to cover the awkwardness of his request, trying to slip back into a role, a scenario, that was never there to begin with, where he, ever the people’s hero, will grant you his presence for a little while, brighten your dreary life. And it is so ridiculous, so unbelievable that you want to laugh, but you bite the inside of your cheek and offer him back the comfort of his illusion with a weak, watery smile.
“Sure… anything for the Homelander.”
He beams at you, for once sincere and as full of relief as you.
#the boys#the boys season 3#my writing#homelander#homelander x reader#homelander smut#eventually#this is fake news in the meantime#pygmalion homelander
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*A HAZBIN HOTEL AND SUPERNATURAL CROSSOVER*
Characters: Sam, Dean, You, Alastor (Charlie and others mentioned)
A/N: ❗️Supernatural Spoiler if you haven't seen Season 5 ❗️ (there is one reference from an episode from this season but it’s not major) ALSO Dean and Alastor are two of my favorites and they are so hot so why not write something like this!! Enjoy (: -
Summary: After trying to fight Gabriel, he sends you and the Winchesters to a hell that you aren’t familiar with. Finding the hotel, you and the two brothers decided to check it out. Only that your eyes seem to be for a certain radio demon, and the demon loves making Dean jealous.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You were in the middle of a battle with the archangel Gabriel. It wasn’t going well; you were thrown across the room and your back hit the wall. Dean had Gabriel in a chokehold himself. Sam was struggling to get up after the cut on his leg. Suddenly with a blink in an eye Gabriel snapped his fingers and a blinding flash, the Winchesters and you, their steadfast ally, were torn from the battlefield and thrust into an entirely different realm.
You found yourselves in what you believed was hell. But it was way different. There was no Crowley, what the hell? The three of you saw these things. They weren’t human, running from something. The two brothers and you shared confused looks.
"What the hell just happened?" Dean exclaimed, his eyes darting around as he instinctively reached for his weapon. You sighed. “Gabriel snapped us somewhere just like-” You began but Sam interrupted.
“I am not doing that game show again.” Sam grumbled.
“I guess we should look around, maybe something will get us back home.” You said and the two brothers nodded, and you led the way through the horrid streets of this version of hell.
The three of you stopped in front of a fairly large hotel. It was a very nice hotel to say the least. As the three of you walked into the hotel, a fairly tall blonde girl walked over to them with a bubbly personality. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” She stepped back and the three of you looked in and around the room. There was a pink spider, a part cat and part bird at the bar. You three just gave each other confused looks.
“Come on in! We have plenty of room!” The girl said. As she followed the two tall men and the girl further in the room. She had introduced her as Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. Dean and Sam looked at each other. You decided to venture more into the large lobby but suddenly someone appeared in front of you, and you bumped into them.
They were wearing a red striped overcoat and were much taller.
“Sorry.” You said with a slight pink tint to your cheeks, Dean noticed this and glared.
"It's quite alright, my dear," Alastor said with a disarming smile, his voice smooth as silk. He bent down to your level, a gesture both charming and unnerving.
Dean's jaw clenched as he watched the interaction, a flicker of protectiveness crossing his features. His eyes narrowed as he observed the way Alastor seemed to captivate you with his presence. Before any tension could escalate, Sam stepped forward, breaking the momentary spell. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice steady, "But can you tell us where we will be staying?” He slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Who the hell are you?” Dean said.
“Alastor! The Radio Demon, pleasure, quite a pleasure!” Their attention went back to Sam." Ah! I believe I'll be personally giving you the grand tour." Alastor said and his smile widened, and you found yourself blushing again. Dean’s fist clenched. “Perfect” you had replied as you looked into his crimson eyes. Dean cleared his throat and Alastor looked over at Dean and his smile widened.
“Shall we begin our tour?! Follow me.” Alastor replied as he spun on his heels and had his arms behind his back still with his permanent smile. You were smiling ear to ear as you walked next to the radio demon. Dean's scowl deepened at the proximity between you and Alastor. With each step the Radio Demon took towards you, Dean's patience wore thin. Finally, as Alastor closed the distance even further, Dean reached his breaking point. In one swift motion, Dean stepped forward, placing a protective hand on your hip as he positioned himself beside you. Alastor's smile faltered for the briefest of moments as he registered the gesture, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his expression. Alastor soon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Dean and noticed the hand on your hip.
“I’m sorry, is there a problem? Or could I continue this tour?” Dean's jaw clenched; his gaze unwavering. "Just making sure we're all on the same page," he replied, his voice firm.
Alastor's smile returned, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Of course, dear boy," he said, his tone light. "No need for misunderstandings. After all, hospitality is my specialty."
With a flourish, Alastor gestured for you and the Winchesters to follow him, leading the way through the labyrinthine halls of Hazbin Hotel. But as you walked in his shadow, you couldn't shake the feeling of Dean's protective presence at your side, a silent reassurance amidst the uncertainty of this new and dangerous world.
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uncle nina be honest: is ravenstans type just tall white men?
EYE--
tHE SOUND I JUST MADELHSKDDSLKDHS this is so FUCKING FUNNY HELLLLLLLP PLEASE....jail FOREVER!!! LIFE!!!!!EVER!!!!!
also....yes it is...ye...s it is...thats soo...
...my hand is over my EYES, anon.
WOW!!!!!
WOOOOooOOOOOoooOOOOw!!!!!!
I'm Embarrassed! i just Know his mexican ancestors are Rolling like sharon...i'm so sorry, baby, i'm So glad you don't have to see this...
but okaokok...LIS!TEN....li sten...
so bc i want to Laugh ( im already laughing )...i feel like when they're dating he's on tiktok live drinking some jersey box wine while kyle cooks dinner nbd Just Sbboyfriend Things also wheeeew!!! house husband kyle my beloved <33 hes so FIONE and CAYOOT :'))) I Love U Baby...ur going to heaven... STAN tho??? HELL IS HOT!!! BOILING!!!
because people keep spamming him w/ a filter to do and hes kinda tipsy and mostly down bc hes bored...but it's the fkn Rank Your White Boy Of The Month From One To Ten filter & hes like gUYS I CANNOT DO THAT I WILL GET IN tRoUbLe STOP IT...but like looks over his shoulder and kyle is listening to music hes like not paying attention so reallyquietly hes like...okay...just Real quickLKHDSHDKSHD >.>
LIKE YOU ARE LITERALLY GOING TO JAIL!!!! HE HAS A PROBLEM!! THE CHOKEHOLD THAT TALL WHITE MEN HAVE OVER RAVEN LIKE THAT NEEDS TO BE STUDIED IN A LAB!!!! ITS THAT SERIOUS!
buuut i bet you in this auniverse kyle is probably On that filter so ravenstan is like you yknow what friends....its fine. we will just leave that top spot open just in case...Itll Be Fine...shhhhshsh ( smh......jfc )
and you know what it IS fine At First because like ew matty healy??? glen powell... like...truly low tier BUT THEN IS LIKE WHAT A MINUTE WHY IS ADAM DRIVER KINDA...HIS NOSE...WOW WAIT IS THAT THE GUY FROM EUPHORIA HOLD ON HES SO TALL WAIT A DAMN SJDHDSHDSD like its just...hes sWeAtiNg like this is WHACK GUYS hell is So hot! why would u send me this!!?...also...4...Obviously. SHKS
LIKE?S?DDSLJDJ:JDSS GO TO CHURCH!!! REPEEENT HARLOT!!!!
all while jerseykyle is Making Him Pasta!!! like what happened to got a white boy on my rosta he be feeding pasta and lobster!!!! HUH???? the BETRAYAL!!!! WOWWWW!!! s!m!H!
cue ravenstan like -looks over shoulder biting nails- u guys Cannot tell kyle about this like bEST FRIEND YOU ARE ON TIKTOK!!! LIVE!!!!
but yknow...he left that one and ten spot open...and its almost done theyre basically free...the thing is rolling and he squints like who is that...nOOOOO SHUT UP IS THAT SPENCER REID??? I HAD A FAT CRUSH ON IN CRIMINAL MINDS WAIT BUT LIKE WE CANT PUT HIM AT TEN LIKE THATS JUST...I CANT...LIKE WHAT ARE THE ODDS WERE GOING TO GET KYLE THATS NOT--ITS FINE!! *sweats*
and puts mgg at One and its rolling one last time and hes like itsfineitsfineitsfine EverythingIsFine!! aND thEN GETS KYLE AND IS LIKE.....OOoOoOF PLEEEASE PLZ SAY SIKE and house husband jerseykyle rolls up BEHIND HIM!!!!! like all concerned hand on hip in the star of david apron ( pls kiss me wow kyle im so sorry bestie ) like babe i am trying to fkn cook dinner why is my TickTack blowing up?? im trying to listen to ABBA like what the fuck is so important that dancing queen is being interrupted rn and also??? why are people telling me to fight the tall nerdy guy from that one CIA show???
and ravenstans like DOOONT WORRY ABOUT IT MY LOVE LMAO DONT WORRY ABT IT!! ALSO THEYRE NOT CIA THEYRE FBI AND HIS NAME IS SPENCER REI and then kyle looks and is like oH OKAY YOU WOULD KNOW ABOUT THAT HUH STAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS WHO THE FUCK IS THIS WHY ARE YOU RANKING WHITE MEN ON THE INTERNET!!!!! HELLO!!!!.....and everyones like oh my gopd i cant believe my otp is breaking up on camera like....im laughing....Im...
anyways...stan permanently lives in tall white man jail. Life Sentence.
-uncle nina, breaking my silence to post This of all things
#this was so funny i started crying#i have no idea what compelled me to answer this or answer it in this unhinged manner but i saw the filter on tiktok and i was like ohhhh my#anyways...hell is hot....tall fashionable white man...probably prominent nose...kinda mean...literally jail#ravenstans ancestors doing backflips#i would blame sharon but sharon did the same thing this is so... its a generational curse...i cant believe it...#this seriously was so funny to me like i could be answering important plot questions but this was too real#ALSO LISTEN SPECIFICALLY SPENCER REID ITS NOT JUST MGG LIKE ITS SPECIFICALLY SPENCER REID FROM CRIMINAL MINDS#WHICH I GET IT BESTIE BUT ALSO YOURE GOING TO JAIL#but that tracks for him like thats reallly...KYLE WAS LIKE WOW CORRECTING HIS NAME AND EVERYTHING IS THAT UR BOYFRIEND ??!! HMMM??? SLKHDLK#screaming crying throwing up like Babe Please!!! IM SORRY!!! CAN WE tALK ABOUT THIS IM SORRY U KNOW UR#ONE IN MY HEART MI CORAZOOOON ;-;;;#where is the white boy rehab and how do i get stan there#in the TRENCHES also u know what his abuelo was also in white gay boy hell during ww2 like some1 needs to STUDY THIS#STAN LIKE PLS UR MY FAVOEITE WHITE BOY DONT DO THIS PLEASE ITS PASTA NIGHT#WERE CELEBRATING UR CULTURE PLEASE THE SONG OF UR PEOPLE IS PLAYING#like soy chicken alfredo and abba is the white experience and stan b experiencing it#he livelaughluvs white boys#unfortunately same i love jacob elordi so bad#Jail#edit: please know jeremy allen white was also high spec in the bear when he was yelling at everyone
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thank you to @finitevariety for the tag!!
Rules: Tag 9 people you want to get to know better.
@greggster @wombies @troutwambsgans @neomachine @houseocats @existentialquestiontime @nyetcafe @springon1on @themagichour
you don't have to, i just kinda love these things.. i'm an oldhead when it comes to the internet sawry
last song: leash called love - the sugarcubes
at least once a week you should try to have some kind of new emotion in lidl, and i had it today while listening to this song.
last show: the rise of the murdoch dynasty (BBC, 2020)
if there's one thing about me it's that i will watch a BBC2 documentary and talk about it for an entire week to anyone who'll listen to me. they're the opposite of netflix documentaries, which are uniformly bad, to me. this documentary avoided the emotionally manipulative aesthetic bullshit of netflix docs and had some great moments, such as max mosley introducing himself with this incredibly deranged statement: ‘i come from a fairly unusual family. my father founded the british union of fascists. and then, my mother, having been friendly with hitler, put me in a position where i certainly wasn’t conventional.’ every time you watch formula 1, remember it's insane british fascist aristocrat money!!!!
currently watching: succession
i didn't have a choice in this. jesse armstrong has had me in a chokehold since i was 9 years old. the queen's nose, my parents are aliens, peep show, the thick of it, succession.
currently reading: consumption by s.r.byers
a collection of short stories written by my friend sam. it's self-published, and he had no editor, but i think they're genuinely very good for the most part, especially when he lets go of the more self-conscious nick cave and MES cribbing. i love when my friends have creative endeavours, it makes me so happy. it's like i get this whole new perspective on them as people.
current obsession: succession
the final season of succession has been masterful so far and i expect that will continue, so if there was ever a time to give yourself permanent brain damage by starting now and trying to catch up before the end, this is your sign.
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Fandom racism happens because people are racist. The whole "oh but you were mean to me so I have to be mean to an entire marginalized group" like no. You're just racist
We're not discussing racism or retaliatory racism. I'm assuming you're referencing my recent Madney posts, so I'll clarify.
I'm talking about re-imaginings of canon events within the show that explore different takes and perspectives. Madney fans in particular seem to have an automatic habit of going for the jugular of any author who doesn't strictly present Chimney/Maddie/Madney exactly as seen in the show, often with wild accusations that have left permanent scars in the fandom.
When I say that creative liberty and freedom will get you sniped by Madney fans, I am quite obviously not talking about actual racism and scenarios such as the fallout from last year when a handful of racists were using fanfiction in order to perpetuate racism.
I'm talking about exploration of alternate canon. You can devise scenarios that aren't in the favor of a character without it having ill-intent. You can villainise a character for the narrative without it coming from hate.
For example; I adore Buck. He's my boy. My little sunshine idiot. I've also written fanfiction where he's a ruthless killer that does unspeakable things simply for the thrill of it. Does that mean I hate him? No. He's the villain, but that's the whole purpose of the story. To explore that alternate narrative of what Buck would be if he wasn't the Buck in the show.
I'm not stating he behaves this way in the show. I'm not using the narrative as an excuse to attack who he is, his skin color, ect.
But that's an understanding that I've noticed a lot of Madney fans are unwilling to accept. And not even when its exclusively relevant to Chimney and Maddie, either.
What I referred to in my last post about spite fic was additional fanfiction written on top of existing fanfiction out of spite for hate posts about the existing fanfiction. For example;
Let's say you write watersports. Someone who is not a fan of watersports comments on your work and tells you its disgusting and you should delete it. Instead, you write another fic about watersports.
Likewise, that's exactly what we've seen happen multiple times in the 911 fandom over various scenes and canon events. There's always a witch hunt through recent fanfiction after something happens in an episode, which spirals into a tangled mess of spite fics and 100+ posts of people arguing.
People who want to explore canon material outside of canon aren't going to let the people who believe in rigid canon chokehold them or throw around biased accusations.
My point is; sometimes you simply have to understand that there will always be fanfiction you dislike or disagree with, and that its not healthy to spend your time actively witch-hunting authors and dumping constant shit all over any type of content you don't agree with.
If an author sees someone falsely accusing them of hate, bigotry, ect, they're going to defend themselves. And then it devolves into a public argument that drags people in like a vortex and ruins everything. It keeps happening in the 911 fandom in a vicious cycle that, for a while actually, killed off a lot of the fan count. I know a vast amount of blogs that stepped away from the fandom because people, mostly Madney-based blogs, just couldn't let go or leave people alone.
If your blog is mostly just you shitting all over anything and everything that other people make in your fandom, ask yourself why you're even active in the fandom space in the first place. If you're truly not happy, maybe its time to look elsewhere, or maybe its time to start utilizing the tools provided to ensure you're tailoring your fandom experience to the things you do want to see.
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I LITERALLY JUST HEARD THIS SONG BUT IT FEELS SO MUCH LIKE JWDS & I NEEDED TO TELL YOU IMMEDIATELY
got the title? can you see the picture? if you can’t, it’s ‘i want it all’ by duncan laurence. by god, this song has effectively ruined me & i’m only on my second listen. please believe me when i say these lyrics are for them.
“i suddenly realize / there’s only so much time / i wanna give you mine” THIS FIRST PART ALONE HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD. THIS IS THEM CLOSER TO THE END OF THE SHOW I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DEAL
secondly? the chorus is so beautiful. “i’ve waited all my life for you” & “i want the good and the bad, the highs and the lows” & old habits die tragic” & “need you to love me like no one has loved me before” & “there’s magic in madness” just every freaking word of these lyrics gives me the most insane need to rewatch the show & to see them fall in love again. i feel nuts right now, or i’m at least toeing the edge of that feeling
anyway…i hope you’re doing well! thought you might find my rambling a little entertaining, & you’re the person i always come to so i can scream about them, so yeah!!
love you, bo! 💛🌷
LIGHTE!!!! Happy Valentine's Day!!! 💛💐
Okay, so, this song! Oh my goodness, it is so THEM! Although it's not my favourite style (/genre) of music, it really got me in my feels. I was a lil sappy mess, sitting in a blanket poncho/hoodie thing (I was given a cheaper version of an oodie as a v-day gift), getting all emotional because of Them.
The lyrics you've already pointed out really shone through for me. But I got sooooo emo over the "I've waited all my life for you" lyric!!!! I don't know if it's because I'm working on a Dong Sik project at the moment (👀) or something, but this song really made me think of him. It feels like these would be the thoughts he would think in an idealistic post-canon world, one where he is more at peace and is sooo desperate to have Joo Won in his life (in a very permanent way).
This song does feel desperate and I mean that as a compliment. Loving someone else, despite your history and reservations, can leave one feeling very desperate and ultimately, vulnerable. Especially if you're feeling resolute to have that person in your life. idk.... it just feels so Them. I feel like they're both so desperate for the other, even if they don't know how to articulate that into words. (but oh boy, don't they say it in a language only they speak??????)
🤭🤭
Also, I'm going to encourage you to rewatch the show!!! I don't how many times you've seen it, but why not see it another time??? I've recently watched episodes 5, 9, 13 with the bf and I didn't know I still had so much to say about this show. I recorded our conversations and I've got over three and a half HOURS of chat 🥴 This show has so much to give and it honestly gets better with each viewing.
I love your ramblings! I especially love music recommendations! So, this was a lovely treat to have. Thank you for continuing to share your thoughts with me. I really appreciate that I'm the person you want to share them with!
Hope you're well! Sending you love through pixels on a screen💛💛
🎵 the song in question 🎵
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3,9,17,23,39,45 + my new OTP Marcus & Zoiya?
ajsdhafsdjaskd 🙈😭 thank you, Amanda! these two have me in a chokehold rn...
send me some numbers for a ship
3. Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?
As a "daughter" of Silco, Zoiya can't just walk around Piltover, especially not hand in hand with the Sheriff of all people (this also applies to Zaun). They do everything in secret. However, she later disguises herself as Ren's nanny whenever she's in Piltover (still no PDA tho).
9. Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?
Zoiya is a little nervous talking about such topics because deep down she thinks there's no way this can work out long-term, due to the social differences. To her, there's no way they'll ever get married, no matter how much she'd like to. She'd never admit it, but she'd love to have one or two kids with him. And death... yeah she doesn't want to even think about it. She already lost a family.
Marcus is just kind of awkward when it comes to discussing topics like these. He sometimes tries to initiate it but drops it when he notices how nervous Zoiya gets.
17. What would make them break up? Would it be permanent?
A war between Piltover and Zaun. No one could choose to go against their own people. That'd definitely be permanent.
Any conflict between both places would be a reason for them to break up permanently. If things become too dangerous.
23. How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?
Ok, gotta be honest; they probably start out hate-fucking, so they're pretty rough with each other at first. However, as time goes by they go from enemies to idiots to lovers.
Both of them are touch-starved, so hugs are awkward at first, but still very appreciated. They get better at it over time.
Zoiya is strictly against kissing in the beginning. To her, kissing involves this special kind of tenderness that inevitably leads to emotions, something they didn't want. Like I said, idiots. As soon as they get together, they kiss a lot and it's usually Zoiya who initiates it.
They tease and flirt all the time. Only when no one's around or sees of course. Whispering things in the other's ear. A lil slap on the butt. Suggestive looks. Those kinds of things. Zoiya especially loves teasing Marcus during meetings with Silco.
They comfort each other with words of affirmation and soft touching.
39. Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first? When did they realize they were in love?
Zoiya initiated the relationship. Marcus thought of it, but never really had the courage to address it. Likewise, she was also the one to kiss him first, since she also was the one who established the no kissing rule (and he respected it).
When Zoiya showed up bruised and injured at Marcus' home, after a little 'dispute'. While he patched her up, she realized she was in love with him.
Seeing how Zoiya treats Ren, the way they spend time with each other, play together and talk to each other (he loves their conversations, just pure chaos). The way Zoiya treats Ren like a mother would treat her daughter, he fell in love with her during one of these moments.
45. Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?
Pretty simple, they just want to be happy (maybe even expand their family). Not that easy due to the conflicts between Piltover and Zaun.
There was a time when some people from Piltover made Zoiya feel like she, as a Zaunite, wasn't good enough. Marcus' opinion on Zaun and its people didn't exactly help. That opinion has since changed (at least a little bit).
#thank you!! <3#this is so long I'm so sorry#i got carried away#they've been on my mind lately#23 has no business being this long#if you read through all of this BLESS YOU <3#oc: zoiya#x: you frustrate me incredibly#zoiya x marcus#I will NOT put this in any official tags sksksks
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hi ry!!!!!!! i am very curious; who are all these men you have been posting? are they in some kind of performance act or something? a band? feel free to ramble on if you so wish, i like hearing what you have to say about your interests :)
oh my god okay okay, im so sorry for who im about to become, talking about this makes me so unreasonably excited it's not even funny, i don't expect anyone to read any of this because jesus christ this is gonna get long.
to answer your question, though, they're all part of sleep token!! they're an anonymous four-piece band based outta london, and they've had me in a chokehold for like a month now with no end in sight :')
they've got a lot of interesting experimental music, lyrics and performances that make me want to fucking scream, and a lot of very homoerotic tension that. uh. really adds something to their vibes.
okay everything else beyond that is gonna have to go under a readmore, because i can't shut up now. forgive me y'all
so, to preface this: at this point in time, the band is more or less anonymous. they avoid associating their legal names with the band (although assholes have unfortunately spread them around), they don't show their bare faces if they can help it, and they're incredibly selective about when/how they use their actual voices to speak to the public. they use stage names in lieu of their actual names; vessel, ii, iii, and iv. they have a whole story and lots of lore behind the band that and i could ABSOLUTELY get into it but i have a feeling that's not what's wanted here so. holding off on that for now :')
anyways... the members! woo!! im way too excited to stop now. forgive me. you don't have to read any of this, im just talking because i don't know when i'll have the chance to do so again
to start. this guy is vessel :::)
he's the main vocalist, songwriter, and one of the two composers in the band. he also plays piano/keyboard though, and for their current studio recordings, he does a lot of the guitar, bass, and synthesizer parts, along with taking the role of co-producer. a very talented man :)
i just think he's a fascinating guy. very raw and emotional on stage in a way im not used to seeing; he puts everything he has into what he does, and WOW, it really shows.
moving on to the next guy, though: here's ii!
he's the drummer and one of the founding members, alongside vessel. he's also the only other composer for the band, and if i remember correctly, he occasionally does some of the songwriting as well!
he's an absolute fucking beast on the drums though, holy shit. watching him play is like watching someone conduct an orchestra (don't know if that makes sense but just trust me bro).
at the moment, ii is the only member of the band to have ever done a video interview on behalf of sleep token. he was still fully masked up, though, and they applied some really heavy filters over his voice to make him harder to identify. still, that's a very recent development and it's exciting to me :)
NOW... we have iii!
he's the band's live bassist! at the moment he doesn't really do much in the studio since he was *technically* a touring musician, but it really seems like he's gonna be a more permanent fixture in the band along with iv so i wouldn't be surprised if he gets a more active role in the future.
this guy's energy is contagious, and i don't think the band would be the same without him now. he's the only one who uses his regular voice when he's with the band, so he spends a lot of time yelling and screaming at the crowd because it riles them up. it's very entertaining lol.
also, unrelated, but he asked for his new mask to mirror iv's new mask because they're really close, which i think is very sweet :')
and finally... we have iv
he's the live guitarist and backup vocalist! mostly backup screams, because this motherfucker can WAIL. he's the newest addition to the band, taking the place of another guitarist who went by the same moniker.
he's in the same spot as iii is as far as his role in studio recordings goes, but he really seems like he's here to stay just like iii is.
i adore this guy though. he's just so.... AGH. a talented guitarist with powerful vocals. and he's hot (they all are) but i told myself i wasn't gonna talk about that in this post so shhhh.
---
and jesus fucking christ im gonna cut myself off now because this went on for too long. i could ABSOLUTELY keep going, there's still so much i haven't talked about yet, but i already feel bad enough for rambling for this long :')
idk if you've read this far ben, but THANK YOU for sending this!! i get really fucking anxious just Posting about the stuff i like with no context, but actually being asked to talk about it isn't something im used to and it's really nice. i love this band to a stupid degree rn and i'll take every chance i get to be weird over it
#asks#ily dude#there's. so much more but im too scared to add anything beyond what i've already typed#i don't want to frustrate anyone with it lol#also im sorry if the formatting fucks up and displays all the images one after another instead of next to each other#tumblr is being glitchy as all hell and i don't know if my edits to the order are saving or not
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@magic-ramen*all the cuddles*
Ethan flexed his hand again, wincing at the stiffness. Fuck, what a shit night. Coming back to the force wasn't has difficult as he'd expected until tonight. It was as if anything that could go wrong, did. A suspect in a murder they'd had under surveillance had slipped the net, another one had lawyered up so tightly they likely wouldn't get word out until court started, and then a junkie had lost his mind in the holding cells.
In an effort to subdue the wiry idiot, Ethan had tried to lock him into a chokehold only to get pen rammed into his palm for the effort. He hadn't even noticed the injury until they'd shot the guy with three different tasers. By then, he'd lost feeling in most of his hand and had reluctantly gone to the hospital under Chernov's direction.
No permanent damage but plenty of pain medication for the next week or so and a required week of rest. If it had been anyone else requesting it, Ethan would have shrugged off the demand but it was Chernov and Chernov knew Kai and Chernov would tell Kai.
There were worse things, he supposed. He barely registered the few stitches he got, instead focusing on getting out and getting home. He'd told Kai he'd be home at a normal time and here it was, three in the morning as he was pulling to a stop in front of the garage.
He shut off the car with a sigh. He supposed he should have expected this. There hadn't been anything remotely normal in their relationship from the start. Why not get stabbed with a pen by a junkie screeching in the precinct.
It was late enough (early enough?) that he likely wouldn't wake Kai walking in, but even so, he slipped in as quietly as he could, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. He frowned as he realized he could hear noise in the living room.
He sighed. Dek likely left the tv on again. He still wasn't sure if he believed Kai's assurances that Dek was a demon but he certainly wasn't human. With terrible taste in entertainment, by Ethan's opinion.
He slipped into the living room, surprised to find Kai bundled up on the couch, snoring softly, arms wrapped around a cushion and face squashed awkwardly. The tv was on, quiet and flickering in the dark room. He crouched down by Kai's head, brushing the dark brown curls off the man's forehead.
"Baby?" he murmured.
Kai sighed in his sleep, scrunching his nose in a familiar wrinkle.
Ethan smiled at that. Waking Kai was akin to moving mountains some days. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Kai's head. "Baby," he nudged, "you should be in bed."
"s waiting for your," he slurred, speech muffled by his folded arms.
He winced at that, carding his fingers through the man's hair. "Yeah, sorry. Shit went haywire."
One eye cracked open, blurry with sleep. "You okay?"
Ethan waved his hand, belatedly realizing it was his bandaged one when Kai's visible eye widened.
He sat up then, yawning. He took Ethan's wrist, examining the bandage. Still half-awake, he blinked at Ethan in obvious question.
Ethan sat back on his heels. "Someone in lockup had an episode and stabbed me with a pen."
To his surprise, Kai cooed in sympathy, lifting Ethan's hand and pressing a kiss to the covered palm. "'m sorry," he murmured, yawning again." Still holding Ethan's hand, he pressed it gently to his cheek. "Hurt?"
Ethan's heart stuttered. He swallowed, and shook his head. After a moment, he cleared his throat and rasped, "Chernov told me to take the next two days off. Pretty sure he'll write me up if I try to show for my shift tomorrow." He glanced at Kai, the amber eyes drifting shut again. "So. I can make up for tonight that way."
Kai breathed out, his eyes fully shut. He kissed Ethan's hand again and said, "Nothing to make up for." His eyes half-opened, a sleepy smile curling his lips. "Happy you're home, though."
Ethan retrieved his hand, cupping Kai's cheek as he did, thumb stroking the warm skin. "Me too, baby." He leaned in, kissing Kai, tasting the other man's soft sigh as he did. When he pulled back, he didn't fight the grin at Kai's dazed look.
He stood, tugging Kai up with him as he did. "All right. Bed."
Kai made a nonsensical noise of protest but followed along, leaning into Ethan as they headed to the bedroom.
Exhaustion finally sank in as he watched Kai pull back the covers, slipping under the blankets with a tiny, happy sound. He changed clothes, eager to do the same. By the time he returned the bed, Kai was fast asleep, curled up on his side.
He crouched down by Kai's die, reaching out to stroke his lover's face. How the hell had this become his life? He'd fully expected Kai to cut him off completely. Carve him out like a cancer. Instead, here he was, the one place he knew he'd die without.
He took a shuddering breath, hand trembling. He would do anything for Kai. Anything. He didn't think he'd ever find anyone to fit that hole in his life. Figured he'd end up dead alone, a string of anonymous lovers his only proof he'd existed. He certainly believed he'd fucked up with Kai once the reality of his role came to light. That had burned his heart with the same pain as the night his mother had died.
He never wanted that to happen again. Couldn't bear the idea of never touching Kai again. Of not waking up next to him. Of not seeing him. That deep-seated fear threatened to steal his breath an he bit his lip, grounding himself.
"I'll always come home to you, baby," he whispered. "Nothing will keep me away from you. Never again." His eyes burned with emotion and he shut them tight, gritting his teeth.
With a quick breath, he composed himself, rising from the floor. His hand throbbed and he turned to the medication at his bedside, tossing back two with a slug of water. He slid under the covers, wrapping his arms around Kai, pressing his lips to that familiar neck as he did. He placed a kiss over the man's sleep-slow pulse and murmured, "I'm gonna marry you, one day." He tightened his arms around Kai, smiling at the contented murmur it elicited. He yawned, sleep stealing over him quickly as he laced his uninjured fingers with Kai's.
"Gonna keep you forever."
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13, 19, 28?
13 - Favorite Author.
I don't usually go after a book due to the author, but I will say Rick Riordon's Percy Jackson series had a major chokehold on me in middle school and really helped push me to start devour books.
19 - A random book I came across and ended up loving.
I came across a quote for On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong and decided to give it a try and honestly what a well written story about love, loss, and family. He is a poet, and it shows throughout his writing.
28 - The last book I read.
I am currently reading multiple books, including Fourth Wing, Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, and Solita. They have all been very good so far. The last book that I finished was The Hole by Hiroko Oyamada which I enjoyed but it did feel like a fever dream and was also a commentary on life for a married woman in Japan with no kids and no permanent employment which is a life style I am so far removed from that I did not understand all the nuance.
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