#look i LOVE the trope!! where he makes a speech and it gets through to luffy through all the chaos | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nnight-dances · 2 years

Text

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

2K notes · View notes

nomazee · 7 months

Note

hihi!! i love ur writing sm and was wondering if u could do a chuuya x also mafia executive reader (similar to the dazai friends to lovers u did a bit ago) with the unestablished relationship but so obviously in love trope

thank u sm!!

i went so overboard omfg FORGIVE ME... i hope this is cohesive i kept working at it at like deep into the night so it's a little hazy omg but i loved this so much im such a sucker for this trope and chuuya and dazai are like the best characters for this kind of genre i feel

pairing: chuuya x gn reader word count: 2.8k content: fluff, hurt/comfort (an abundance of it), friends-to-lovers, mentions of sickness (vomiting, fever, etc), domestic fluff, sweet stuff, also hand-wavey teenage timeline because i didn't read all of stormbringer forgive me...

°+..｡ﾟ｡ﾟ+.*.｡.

“They said they might promote me, did you hear?”

Chuuya glances to the side at the sudden sound of your voice. You’re leaning over his shoulder from behind him, face mere inches from his as you grin widely. He has to fight the twitches of his own lips to stop himself from smiling back. “And who’s they, exactly?”

“Oh, you know. The grapevine. Just some whispers in the organization. And Kouyou.” You lean back, the radiating warmth of your body suddenly escaping Chuuya. He walks behind you as you make your way down the hallway, a little jump in your step as you recount the news to him.

“It’s what you get for working so hard. Guess it paid off.”

“You think I’m hardworking! You’re a flatterer, Chuuya Nakahara.”

“Sure am,” he quips back with amusement. Banter with you is different than with Dazai. With you, it’s lighthearted, and silly, and makes him feel like he’s fourteen and messing around with the Sheep again. With Dazai, it’s… charged, and fast-paced, and builds up a kind of aggravated energy within him that works well in fights but not in a room of Kouyou’s antiques.

“But guess what,” you start again, looking over your shoulder where Chuuya follows close behind. Your pace slows down to let him catch up to you and walk side-by-side, now. “I think you’ve got a good chance, too. You’ve got some executive qualities, you know?”

It makes Chuuya pause for a moment, because he hasn’t really thought about it before. After the mess that was the Sheep, he hadn’t considered taking up any kind of leadership or executive position in the Port Mafia. It wasn’t really his thing—too much work, too much responsibility. And as much as he loathed to admit it, it would probably mean even less time to spend with you and Dazai. Being mentored by different people already limited your time with each other.

He tries not to think too hard about the implications of it—of you and Dazai working under Mori’s hands while Chuuya gets Kouyou’s firm, but gentler palms. A vague kind of sickness washes over him that he tries to shake off.

“I don’t know about that. I think I do better in a quieter position, don't you think?”

“Nothing is quiet about you. Especially not with that partner of yours,” you joke back. “I could put in a good word for you! Once I get promoted, I’ll have, like, a bunch of power and influence, and I’ll be all high and mighty, and you and me and Dazai can all take care of the Port Mafia and be all cool, and everything.”

It’s a pipe dream. Both of you know that. Chuuya knows best about your hidden resentment of this organization and all that it stands for, all that it does. He’s heard whispers about your plans to take over—plans that would never come to fruition. Plans that were more like dreams and wishes and hopes. Something to get you through the day. The budding smile on his face falters when he turns and sees that distant look in your eyes. A sigh bubbles in his chest, but he holds it down.

“Hey, slow down. You don’t even know if you’re getting the position or not.” His comment is met with a roll of your eyes and a chest-deep groan. You launch into a big speech about how qualified you are for the job, and all the different things you’d institute as a mafia executive (nap time, stress room with cats, petting zoo, iced tea dispensers), and Chuuya nods along and laughs for as long as he can.

===

You do, in fact, get promoted to an executive, but at the cost of a lot of things. Dazai leaves the mafia with no warning to you or Chuuya. You don't see him at all for two weeks leading up to his defection, and it all happens in a blur that leaves your head swimming with vertigo and your body much too frail to handle everything.

Chuuya finds you sobbing in your en suite bathroom, kneeling on the floor and crying so hard that you’re dry heaving. He hasn’t seen you like this before. Even in your rare moments of vulnerability, it was never something so visceral and uncensored. He stands in the doorway, looking down at you, and freezes. His palms itch with the desire to do something, something that he hasn’t learned.

“You… Hey, hey,” Chuuya drops to the floor once he snaps out of his daze, crouching next to your curled up form as you shake with the force of your tears. He tentatively reaches out a hand, easing onto your shoulder. When you don’t give any sort of negative reaction, he wraps his arms around your shoulders and pulls you in for an embrace.

It’s odd. This isn’t something that the three of you did. For all that you and him and Dazai kicked and pushed and shoved each other jokingly, this kind of touch is unfamiliar. It’s scalding in the way that sitting in front of a space heater in the dead of winter burns you.

He shushes you like a child because he’s not sure what else to say. He’s just as shaken by Dazai’s defection, but he knew that you and Dazai had become so close over the last few years. Being trained under Mori together does that. His chest squeezes at the sight of you like this, broken down and shivering and sick at the loss of your friend.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry. Shhh, it’s— it’s okay.”

Chuuya smooths a hand over the top of your head, sliding down to rest between your shoulderblades. His mouth presses against your temple in a gentle kiss, feeling how cold and clammy your skin has gotten. He doesn’t know how to heal you. His hands are made to weigh people down and hurt and subdue, and he’s not sure if he can handle the gentler things like holding you and swathing you in blankets and cooking you soup.

But, he thinks with a renewed determination. There’s no harm in trying.

Three months later, you take Dazai’s executive position at the age of nineteen. Chuuya follows suit after another year and a half and becomes executive at twenty. You only think of Dazai when your head swims in gin and when you can’t feel the heat of Chuuya’s hands near you.

===

The both of you find yourselves in Chuuya’s apartment drinking the night away. At this point, you’re both twenty-one, and being in the mafia has offered you countless resources for alcohol and the like. A warm haze has blanketed you as you take another sip of whatever sweet fruity drink Chuuya has concocted for you. He drinks a glass of wine, because he’s weird and bougie, which you tell him straightforwardly.

“Wine’s just an acquired taste,” he tells you.

“It’s glorified grape juice. It tastes like yeast.”

“That’s… kind of what it is.”

You laugh so hard that tears bead in your eyes and you hit him on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. It’s not even that funny, really, and he wasn’t even trying to make you laugh, but it’s so late into the night that you don’t even know what time it is and everything is funny when you’re this drunk.

“I’m hungry, Chuuya. I miss your soup,” you say, a whine in your voice as you throw your head back against the armrest of the couch. You’re stretched out on his velvet upholstered couch with your feet in his lap, and he’s been tracing circles against your bare shins while some documentary plays in the background on the TV. “You haven’t cooked for me in forever. I thought it was your duty as a househusband to cook every night, or something.”

“Hey! I’m not anyone’s househusband,” he shouts in protest. When you push your head up from the armrest to glance at him, his tanned face is flushed a warm red and his brow is furrowed in playful indignation and you’re struck with the urge to bite him like a chew toy. Instead, you let out a soft kind of laugh and roll your eyes.

“Yeah, you are. You’re my husband. Have been since the day I met you.” In a burst of newfound energy, you propel yourself up and off the couch, swinging your legs off his lap and standing up. “Let’s go make some soup. Your pantry’s probably stocked, right? Since you’re on top of all your housekeeping.”

“Geez. You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Of course not! Come on. You have to teach me how to cook now.”

Chuuya has reserved bone broth in his freezer, because of course he does. You submerge a container of it in hot water and wait for it to defrost while he helps you dice and saute vegetables in a pressure cooker.

(“Don't pressure cookers, like, explode, or something?”

“...who taught you that.”)

It’s a miracle you can even use a knife safely, because your head is still swimming a little bit and the line of empty bottles on the coffee table taunts you and your bad decisions. You also blame it for the way you stick close to Chuuya, bumping your hips together and leaning your head on his shoulder for a few fleeting moments until the pressure cooker starts hissing.

He serves you a heaping bowl and when you tell him you’ll puke if you eat the whole thing, he pushes the bowl at you from across the counter and says, “I’ll guess I’ll just clean your puke for you too, then.”

“Gross. You’re really a househusband if you’re brave enough to do that.”

“Househusband this, househusband that. All I do is cook.”

“And clean up the vomit of your lovely lovely spouse.”

“Sure,” he says, and he turns back to you and puts his own bowl next to yours. Then, in a swift, undeterred motion, he reaches across the kitchen island, over both steaming bowls of soup and kisses you straight on the mouth. It shocks you right into lucidity, eyes blown wide and lips nearly parting at the sudden contact. Before you can really think about it, Chuuya pulls back, circling around the kitchen island to sit next to you with two spoons so you can both eat. “As long as that lovely lovely spouse is you.”

You feel—light. Airy, sick, nauseous, more at peace than you have been in the last three years. A stupid smile starts forming on your face and you hide your giddy laughs into your soup.

Chuuya would never act like this sober, you think, still cherishing the little moment you have. Thankfully, you’re proven wrong when he keeps doing it—walking you back to your apartment the next day, going out to a mafia-affiliated diner the next week, in an empty meeting room after everyone has left.

===

Another year passes. You find yourself in the throes of the cannibalism incident—not as a bystander, but as a victim. Because that’s just your luck, really.

You don’t know how you were caught in the crossfire between Fyodor and Mori, but somehow you were infected with the cannibalism virus and bedridden for nearly three days, in-and-out of consciousness while you hoped and prayed that somebody would save you. For the entirety of the conflict, you were left alone in the PM infirmary, sweating off your perpetual fever and coughing up stomach bile into a metal garbage can.

It was awful. There’s no blame to put on anyone, though. Everyone who was able to stand was on the front lines, so to speak, and from what you understood you weren’t as big of a target as Mori. Three days alone in a sterile bed was worth it for the survival of the organization.

At the end of it all, in the calm after the storm, sitting in your dorm, Chuuya visits you.

You don’t look too great, still recovering physically and emotionally, but you can’t find it in you to care. The second you hear the familiar cadence of his knock and the shuffling of his stupid heeled boots, you rip the door open and are met with his wide-eyed expression.

“Hey,” he says, and you burst into tears because god. It hasn’t hit you until now, seeing him in front of you, his warmth radiating from his hands as they reach out to hold you, but you could’ve died or he could’ve died and then what would’ve happened? Years and years of knowing each other, seeing each other at your worst, taking care of each other. Cooking in your kitchen and sleeping on his couch and kissing him like it meant nothing. It could’ve all been gone.

The mafia isn’t a safe occupation to begin with, but this entire thing has made you realize how fleeting everything is. So you sob, and you let him hold you and bring you to the couch, and you let yourself be weak.

“Hey,” he says again, tone now placating, gloved hands resting on the back of your head and between your shoulder blades as he sits next to you on the couch. You have no regard for where your body is right now, legs sprawled out somewhere beneath you and arms reaching up to grab at Chuuya’s clothes in any way you can. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

You cough wetly into his shoulder, a whine forming from between your violent sobs. Your body shakes with the remnants of your sickness and the exhaustion of the week and a small voice in the back of your head tells you that it’s embarrassing, that it’s unbecoming of a mafia executive to be so affected.

Death threats and poisonings and shootings—you deal with it every week. You choke out another whine of distress as you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids in an attempt to quell the tears. It doesn’t work. You’re still weak, no matter how hard you hurt.

“Shit, Chuuya,” you cough out a weak sob, shivers wracking your body as the weight of everything crashes onto you. “I was so sick. I was alone. I thought I would die. God.” You pull back from his hold to rub at your eyes with your raw palms.

“Stop that,” Chuuya says, with a gentleness you swear you haven’t heard in so long but in truth it’s been with you for the last two years. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.” Cold fingers wrap around your wrists and pull them away from your face.

The white-hot heat of embarrassment scalds the back of your neck. You feel like a scolded child with the pitying look he gives you, and with your hands locked between his there’s no way to hide.

“Stop,” you tell him, “quit it, Chuuya,” and you don’t know what you’re begging for, but it’s the lowest you’ve ever felt—a feared member of the mafia on their knees crying and asking for some kind of mercy.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” he mumbles, and he pulls you just a bit closer with the grip he has on your hands. His chin rests on top of your head and you shove your face into the crook of his neck.

For once, he doesn’t smell like his gross luxury perfume. He smells like your laundry detergent and grass and the city and even more tears spill over your cheeks. Your fingers curl into his and you clench his knuckles until you feel them creak through the gloves.

“I wouldn't let you die,” Chuuya’s voice is no more than a whisper, but it’s the most determined you’ve heard him sound. “I wouldn’t let it happen.”

“I don’t need your protection,” and it’s a weak protest, and you’re grasping at straws to argue with him and push him away and make him stop before you make yourself sick with how hard you’re sobbing. You feel one hand slip from yours and slide up between your shoulderblades and start trailing along the nape of your neck, tracing circles in a lulling gesture.

“I know you don't,” he says, “but I would really like it if you let me. Just once in a while. Let me cook you soup alone and wash your face and clean your hair. All that stupid stuff.”

You cough out a weak laugh. Your househusband shtick from a year ago comes back to you, and so do all the warm evenings spent together in the kitchen and the kisses left on his cheek and the ones left on yours. You feel the warm press of his mouth against your temple and let out your last weak sob before you hold him tight again, squeeze him hard against you to make sure he’s still there. And that’s where he’ll stay.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #nakahara x reader #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x you #bsd oneshot #chuuya oneshot #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #nakahara chuuya x you

230 notes · View notes

folkloresthings · 9 months

Note

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Oscar Piastri 🥵🧡

With highschool sweetheart trope

Please and thank you ☺️☺️🫶🏻

FOR FOREVER. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

on your first day of high school, you had been seated next to a floppy haired, awkward looking boy called oscar. for a few weeks, neither of you spoke to each other. then, he asked about a homework assignment and you helped him out. it wasn’t until junior year that he finally asked you out, despite pining over you for two years. since then, you’d been inseparable.

your camera roll history was filled with the timeline of your relationship. study dates, prom night, graduation, his formula two podiums, his first day in formula one, every time he flew out to visit you.

you’d fallen in love when you were both seventeen years old, and you’d been together ever since. twenty—one now and still head over heels. you’d been with oscar from the start of his career, but being so far apart from each other made it difficult. you persevered, as much a you could, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were missing out on a little piece of his life.

oscar’s birthday had fallen right in the middle of the racing season, and just in time for the australian grand prix. he was home to celebrate with you and everyone that he loved. able to sleep in your arms every night for a whole week, back where everything began.

like always, his mother was throwing a backyard birthday party for all of the family and friends — even all of the drivers. you had put on oscar’s favourite dress of yours and baked him the cake that he loved. he hadn’t been able to leave you alone all afternoon, his hand glued to your waist, showing you off to everyone he could.

“guys, can i get your attention for a second?”

oscar’s voice pulls you away from lando’s fourth story about your boyfriend, everyone looking to where he stands at the top of the garden. charles passes you the drink he’d left to get you a while ago, sitting on the deckchair next to you.

“i just wanted to thank you all really quickly for coming,” oscar smiles, his mum standing next to him. you can tell she’s made him make this speech, the sheepishness in his eyes making you stifle a giggle. “and to my mum, for putting all of this together. i’m so glad i get to bring all the parts of my life together.”

he goes on a little longer, something about work and being home, and you can’t take your eyes off of him. he looks adorable, back in the australian sun with a birthday badge pinned to his shirt (his little cousin’s doing). oscar’s eyes find yours in the small crowd and he softens, heart swelling.

“and i have to give special thanks to my darling y/n,” oscar raises his glass towards you. any awkwardness is gone from his speech—giving, completely relaxed when it’s you he’s looking at. all eyes turn to you then, but you barely notice. oscar is all you see, every moment of every day.

“she’s put up with me for almost five years, and i couldn’t be more grateful. and she’s going to hate me for pointing her out like this — but, baby, i love you. you’ve been my rock, my heart, my biggest support through everything. even my weird, spotty, puberty stage. thank you, truly. i can’t wait to spend another year with you by my side.”

everybody’s clapping and you can feel your eyes stinging with tears, but you don’t care. your feet carry you across the garden, pressing your lips softly to his. it gains a few jests from the drivers, but you’re too busy smiling up at your lover.

“happy birthday, sweetheart.”

#🍾 ﹐ becca hits 1k!#🌙 ﹐ drabbles.#formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri drabble #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri fluff

197 notes · View notes

witchthewriter · 2 years

Photo

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬' 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

ISFP

Ravenclaw

Neutral Good

Libra Sun, Gemini Moon, Aquarius Rising

SFW🍄

⭑ Always being truthful with each other

⭑ Legolas is much taller than you; he practically towers over you. And you’re not even a dwarf nor a hobbit.

⭑ Communicating with looks and limited speech; you know each other too well

⭑ He loves showing you the world - everything there is and the beauty of it

⭑ Legolas wouldn’t care about your background, or where you came from. Not of you came from royalty, money or from nothing.

⭑ He stands up for you, always. Never letting anyone talk ill of you.

⭑ He adorns you with jewels; necklaces, bracelets, earrings, rings, at times he’ll give you formed crystals. You cannot deny that you like it; the way they sparkle and shine.

⭑ He encourages you to pursue whatever it is you wish

⭑ Absolutely loves when you rake your fingers through his hair. The way your fingers massage his scalp, when they fiddle with his strands and twirl them to make a plait.

⭑ He shows his love through gift giving and quality time. He likes to receive love with words of affirmation and quality time. But I also think you would love affection, so he would try his best.

⭑ You spend a lot of time on horseback - hunting and riding

⭑ Legolas knew he wanted to marry you early in your relationship.

⭑ He loves watching you dance; the way all worry and anxiety leaves your body as you jump and sway

⭑ If you like books, then he will buy you a whole library - if you like weapons, then he will have every kind handcrafted for you. Whatever it is that takes your fancy, Legolas will go above and beyond so that whatever you desire, you have it.

⭑ Sometimes his bluntness shocks you, but after a while you get used to it. From then, whenever he says something out of turn, you give him ‘the look,’ which tells him that he could’ve worded it better

Relationship Tropes:

Serious, rarely understands when they’re being flirted with x Flirty, loves making innuendoes because the other doesn’t understand them

Big & Calm x Small & Energetic

Badass Warrior Couple

NSFW🔞 minors dni!

⭑ Slow and sensual sex; he likes to take his time with you

⭑ Legolas wouldn’t want to share you with anyone; so no threesomes or orgies. You’re his, and his alone.

⭑ He’s more into giving than receiving

⭑ So he learns how to give you good head / how to properly eat you out. He doesn’t have a lot of experience.

⭑ He whispers encouragement when he’s inside you

⭑ Legolas’ favourite place is to cum inside of you

⭑ Rakes his nose against your skin, taking in your smell

⭑ He isn’t into risky sex, but does love having you underneath the stars, naked and surrounded by the forest

⭑ Loves to bite your lips when you kiss

⭑ And he loves it when you entwine your hand in his while you ride him

⭑ Legolas is very good with aftercare; he likes to clean you up, and whisper how much he loves you

#legolas #legolas headcanons #lord of the rings #fellowship of the ring #LotR #lord of the rings headcanons #legolas x reader #legolas x you #legolas x y/n #dating would include #would include #headcanons #imagines #fanfic #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

florestmoon · 2 years

Text

Eventually. (Eddie Munson X Reader)

Summary: A new girl in Hawkins, she surely wouldn’t hang with the freaks. Right? Eddie realizes he judged a bit too quickly.

Warnings: implied chubby/plus size!reader because it’s what we need! Also I don’t know ANYTHING about dnd😭 I looked up a quick video about someone making a notebook ok ok. Don’t fight me pls

Authors notes: I told myself I wouldn’t write for ST but here we are.. I love this trope ok. I might make this a multiple part where Eddie keeps doubting the reader and slow burn with angst. Also, if I were to continue to write for this cute metal head; it would only be angst and fluff. No smut tho (: so if you request, remember that pls. Ok enjoy

Starting senior year in a new school and new town wasn’t on your checklist on how to spend the rest of 1985, yet here you were on a Tuesday afternoon at Hawkins High.

The school year had already started for two weeks now, but with your parents lack of planning things ahead and all your packed belongs being delayed, you had barely gotten your schedule the Monday morning before.

So standing in the front of the door that lead to the cafeteria, everyone already packed in groups spread out among the tables that littered the huge room, you found yourself internally groaning at your late start. You knew that the chance of there being cliques was possible, given how big the high school was, but you had hoped there would at least be one or two empty tables when you got there.

Every table was taken, given a few empty seats that was clearly for someone’s else friend.

Nerves wracked through you but you kept your chin high, slightly tugging on your oversized sweater’s sleeve before making your way towards the lunch line. There was a few stares, and whispers much to your dismay. The line ended with a pair of cheerleaders, who were giggling amongst themselves. You took note of their uniform. You always were interested in dancing, having tried out for the cheerleading team at your old school but never made it in. A few comments about your figure may have had a say in that.

Maybe this year would be different.

Before you could get the courage to speak up and ask them about any tryouts this year, their voices turned sharp as their eyes were directed across the room.

“Poor freshman. Cant believe they were convinced by that freak to join their weird cult.” The brunette scoffed, crossing her arms as she looked away while the redhead continued to stare in amusement.

“I guess nerds really do find each other. What was the game they play again?” She asks uninterested before answering herself. “D and..P? Death and something?”

Dungeons and Dragons. You found yourself thinking quickly,your head turning towards the direction of their topic. Eyes catching onto the table that had a long curly haired male, leather jacket and vest being the first thing you latched onto, who was standing at the far end of the table. Arms leaning against the table as he shook his head dramatically, seemingly to give an exaggerated speech to the rest of the teens that sat staring up at him in awe.

They burst into laughter after he made a gesture with his hand, a large smile spreading across his face as he fanned out his hair. He seemed content with their response as he plopped down on his seat then, eyes looking up in time to catch you staring. You looked away quickly, stumbling when someone had complained for you to move. The slip up had caught the two girls attention, their eyes turning toward you.

The once judge mental eyes quickly turned into soft ones as they regarded you. The red head speaking up first. “Hey, you’re the new girl right?”

You nod as you look between them both. “Yeah, uh. I’m y/n.”

“Cool. I’m Jessica and that’s Bri.” The brunette, Jessica, quips happily as they continue to move up the line. “I love your hair!”

“Yeah you’re really pretty.” Bri comments, throwing you a sweet smile as her and Jessica exchange glances that you brushed off. You were about to respond before she cut you off, “you know we’re looking for some new cheerleaders and you should totally try out.”

It seems like things were working in your favor after all, maybe this year wouldn't be so bad. You nod which they respond with excited claps. “Great! They’ll be announcing tryouts soon, so pay attention to the announcements.”

They quickly grab their trays before moving together towards a tables, giggling about whatever was said to each other. You watch them before grabbing your tray. Your mind going back to the table across the room.

Right. Dungeons and Dragons.

You always were interested in DnD, well interested was an understatement. You were obsessed. It was a little secret you kept to yourself at your old high school after your cousins had casually mentioned it in the end of your middle school days. Finding yourself head in between many pages of books that gave you information on the game, jotting down notes in a notebook as you allowed yourself to dwell in this fantasy world.

Your cousins had allowed you to participate in a few campaigns until they grew out of it, teasing you when you tried to mention it again. Since then, you couldn't find anyone else that appreciated the game. So you were left with drawing and creating characters in your spare time, along with reading articles on the game.

Your old school didn't have a club so the idea of there being one in Hawkins, it gave you courage to grab your tray of lunch food and make a beeline towards the table. Fingers tapping under the plastic plate as you approached the group of teenage boys, their eyes falling onto you when you stopped right next to Eddie.

“Hi.” You said softly, throwing him a nervous smile. Eddie blinked at you in surprise before raising an eyebrow.

“Uh..hi?”

You ignored the suspicion in his voice, placing your tray on the table and settling yourself in the seat. Gareth, who was next to you, gawked at you as you glanced over the multiple faces at the table. “I heard that this is a club..for dnd?”

“You mean you overheard everyone calling us freaks and nerds that play a stupid fantasy game, right?” Eddie voice turned sharp, his fingers tapping onto the table to emphasize his words. You felt taken aback by his tone, but decided to be honest.

“Well yeah.” You state, before grinning. “but I, myself, like that stupid fantasy game. So I was hoping that I could join.”

A silence fell over the table. A twinge of annoyance had your eyebrow twitching but you pushed it down.

“You..like dnd? Dungeons and Dragons, right?” Mike finally spoke up, him and the two others beside him staring at you as though you grew another head. You sighed as you moved a strand of hair away from your face before grabbing your fork and stabbing into your food.

“Yes. Dungeons and Dragons. Or did I guess wrong? Is this something else ?” You playfully narrow your eyes at them.

“No!” Dustin yells. “No. I mean yeah! Yeah it means dungeons and dragons. “

“Okaaay.” You giggle. “Then yes I like dnd.” They continue to stare at you. “Why is that so weird?”

“I don’t know, because you’re pretty and a girl.”

Eddie made a strangled noise at Lucas nonchalant answer but you only laughed it off. Shaking your head as you looked at him, “well thanks. But yes, a girl can like a fantasy game too.”

Your amusement was cut short by Eddie’s sharp voice once again. “Yeah I don’t buy it.”

Eddie had leaned back, crossing his arm across his chest and was narrowing his eyes at you. The look was intimidating to say the least. It had you dropping your fork in order to cross your arms in response. “What is there to buy?”

“Well let’s see. A new girl, a pretty one as Lucas states,” you blush slightly at his comment, “decides to come sit with the freaks on her first day. Doesn’t that seem a bit like..” Eddie taps a finger on his chin as he looked up at the ceiling in thought. Pretending to think for a few seconds, “A set up?”

“A set up?” You scoff in disbelief.

“Yeah. It’s easy.” He leans forward and makes eye contact with you. “Let me explain better. I’m sure those cheerleaders you were talking to in line had told you, in order to be accepted in their little cute popular clique, you had to come here and make a fool of us. Huh?”

“What?? No, they were asking me simple questions.”

“Yeah right.” Gareth scoffed, his posture relaxing while he shook his head and went back to eating the mashed potatoes in his plate. Uninterested in whatever you had to say now that Eddie pointed it out.

You felt your whole body tingle in embarrassment before looking at Eddie again, who seemed a bit disappointed in whatever realization he made in his head.

“We may be freaks, devil worshippers, or whatever creative name they come up with. But we aren’t stupid, sweetheart. So tag along with your new friends and find another way to be accepted.” He gave you a tense smile before turning his attention back to the tater tots on his own tray.

The looks the others gave you reminded you of those times your cousins has disregarded you. The times your friends had gave you judge mental glances whenever you mentioned your small hobby. The fact that it was happening all over again, with people you hoped would be different with you, caused for your cheeks to warm in humiliation. You scoff before grabbing your tray and stood up quickly, nearly tripping as you made way towards the exit. Throwing your food in a near by trash can before pushing yourself through the doors to the hallway.

Eddie secretly watched you the whole time, expecting you to go straight towards the cheerleaders. Their disappointment at your failure being a sight to bask in, only to be surprised at your exit of the cafeteria in a hurry.

“I don't know, she seemed pretty interested.” Dustin lowly whispered at Lucas and Mike, clearly meant for only their ears but Eddie heard it. This received a humorless laugh from him as he shook his head.

“No way, Henderson.” He glanced at the doors again, “No way.”

—

A small pink notebook was slammed onto the table, nearly topping over the orange juice box Eddie was working so hard to getting open. He frowned as he looked up, coming face to face with you. A small smirk playing on your lips as you sat down on the seat next to him, the same one you occupied the day before. The seat he definitely didn’t stare at for the rest of the lunch period by the way.

“And this is..?” He grabs the notebook in question, turning it over before glancing at you through his curls that fanned over his forehead. Eddie couldn't deny at the small excitement of you being here again. It was all he thought about when he overheard a jock complaining about you heading towards their table instead of the basketball teams.

Still, he was wary. He couldn’t allow for the guilt of his actions before to override his judgement. Not yet.

“It’s my DnD notebook.” You grab his forgotten juice box, carefully pushing the top open. “I’ve worked on my characters for most of high school and random campaign ideas. It’s a bit messy but it’s all I got. But it should be enough,”

You push the juice box towards him and smile. “-to convince you i’m not lying and I’m definitely not setting you guys up. Or whatever weird accusation you made. Which I forgive you by the way.”

Eddie watched you closely, mouth slightly open in shock before he quickly shut it and stared down at the notebook in his hands. He opened a few pages in to be met with a few drawings and some stats on different characters.

You shrugged off your backpack and placed it beside you on the bench, unaware to the inner turmoil that was growing inside Eddie.

Yes it was messy, but there was so much attention put to the character you created, he couldn't help but feel astonished and stupid for the way he acted the day before.

It was cute the way you added small notes to the side and the amount of erased markings that littered the pages. He couldn't deny that he was a bit intrigued by some ideas you had written in the other pages he briefly looked over. You were opening your own juice box when he set down your notebook.

“Consider me..surprised. And ashamed.” He cleared his throat as he laid his chin on top of his knuckles. Rings digging into skin as he grimaced. “For how I acted.”

“Like I said, all forgiven.” You take a sip from your juice as you look up at him. “Yeah I was mad at first. But after hearing a few..really gross comments from others in my classes. I guess I understood your reaction.”

“Yeah well, we aren’t exactly well liked. So I-“ he backtracks, “we couldn't believe someone like you-”

“Pretty and a girl?”

He coughs into his fingers, covering half his face with his hand before looking at you through his fingers. Your smile meeting his gaze. Tease.

“Exactly.” He clears his throat as he pulls his hand away, crossing them on top of the table as he leans into your space. “So. I apologize. For being such a dickhead, sweetheart.”

You nod your head, accepting the apology.

“Does that mean my amazing drawing skills is enough for me to be in the club?” You bit your lip, nerves starting to creep up again. You felt hopeful but couldn't help but be afraid that there would be another reason to be rejected again.

“well, maybe not the drawings..”That earns a gasp from you, he laughs and throws his head back before looking down at the notebook. “But yes. You are now one of the freaks of Hawkins.” He shakes his head with that smile you were beginning to like more. Where his dimples popped out.

“Great!” You stand straight in your seat in excitement as you tuck your hair behind your ear. “I’m y/n. By the way.”

He wanted to say I know. He had asked a few others your names after your first encounter but instead said, “I’m Eddie.”

You both stare at each other for a few moments before the small chatter of the freshman interrupt the relaxed moment. Dustin slamming his tray onto the table as he stares at you.

“Holy shit, you’re back!” He yells, a few annoyed glances from other tables not stopping his loud voice. “Does that mean we were right? That Eddie was a complete asshole for no reason?”

You grab the notebook and begin to stuff it into your backpack as you chuckle, unaware of the way Eddie was staring at you. “Yup. But don’t worry, he’s getting me one of those cool shirts you have as a proper apology.”

You glance at Eddie, taking him out of his daze and throwing him another sweet smile. “I’m a large by the way.”

Eddie smirks and touches his finger to his forehead before saluting them at you. “Got you, princess.”

#eddie munson #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine #eddie fic #eddie munson angst #fluff #gareth #dustin henderson #lucas sinclair #mike wheeler

2K notes · View notes

autumn816 · 28 days

Note

Soulmate au + married to the job 🤭

Here you go!! Hope you enjoy :)

—

George massages his forehead.

“Is it getting worse?”

“Yeah.” He answers Alex. “I can’t believe that man is doing this to me.”

Alex snorts. “You can’t believe Lewis is staying behind to go over data and not notice that he has a headache?”

“It was a figure of speech, Alexander.”

They are quiet for the rest of the walking distance to Ferrari.

Charles walks through the door, his eyes glued to his phone.

“Charles.” George calls.

The Monegasque jolts, a shriek escaping him. The edges of George’s mouth curve up while Alex laughs next to him.

“Don’t do that,” Charles says. “You scared me. And stop laughing, Albono.”

“It was funny. Did you hear the sound you let out, mate?”

Charles pouts. Alex steps forward and kisses it away.

“Alright, knock it off,” George says. “No need for PDA.”

Alex pulls away from the kiss and rolls his eyes. “You cannot be talking. You and Lewis are worse.”

“Which reminds me…,” Charles chimes in, “good timing. I was gonna just call you.” He shakes the phone in his hand. “You need to get Lewis out of here. Your man doesn’t want to leave the room. He has been there since morning. I don’t think he even moved once.”

Alex whistles. “No wonder your headache was so bad.”

“Where is my man?” George questions.

“You have a headache?” Charles answers his question with a question.

“Yeah. So where is the reason for my headache?”

“Come on. I’ll take you there.”

George and Alex follow Charles through the Ferrari facility until he stops in front of a room and pushes the door open quietly. George steps into the room and closes the door behind him.

Lewis is sitting in front of a computer. A very shirtless Lewis.

Now, look, George might be here on a mission but that doesn’t deter him from appreciating the tattoos adoring Lewis’ back, especially when his muscles flex.

“As much as I love this sight—”

Lewis spins around in his chair, his eyes widening before he realises who it is.

“—I would love it even more if it was at home.”

“George?” Lewis frowns, rubbing his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I reckon I should be asking you that, mate.” George approaches Lewis and comes to a stop right in front of him.

Lewis places his hands on George’s waist as he settles on his lap. The chair creaks under the weight of both.

“I know you’re married to the job but you’re also married to me,” George continues. “And I would really like to be home right now with my husband.”

“What are you talk—” Lewis cuts himself off and reaches behind to grab his phone. “Fuck! I didn’t notice the time.”

“Yeah, clearly.”

“Should I be worried about how calm you are?”

George presses his thumbs into Lewis’ temples, earning a groan first and then a sigh with a shut of eyes.

“I can get mad after we do something with that headache.”

“How did you—” Lewis’ eyes fly open. “Is your head hurting?”

“Terribly.”

“Shit! Sorry, I can—”

“Finish that sentence and I’m already telling you right now that we won’t be having sex for a whole month.”

Lewis knows how much George hates it when he closes off their soul bond, even temporarily. George despises it.

“Right, sorry.” Lewis clears his throat. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

George softens. “How about you make it to me by coming home and sleeping it off?”

Lewis smiles, stealing a kiss from George. “Yeah, I can do that. Let’s do that.”

George slides off Lewis’ lap and extends his arm, pulling Lewis up when the older man puts his hand in his. “Let’s go home, my love.”

—

Mash-up trope

#thank you for sending <3 #ask games

25 notes · View notes

gnougnouss · 9 months

Text

Ya know I feel like there's a shit ton of hyprocrisy going on when people compare RTD's writing and Moffat's on dw but nothing irks me more than when they say Moffat era made the doctor too important when he was portrayed as just a guy in RTD. Like. Are you fucking kidding me. Be for real.

In the GODDAMN first episode, one of the first thing we learn about the doctor is through Clive (rip) in that scene :

The Doctor is a legend woven throughout history. When disaster comes, he's there. He brings the storm in his wake and he has one constant companion. ROSE: Who's that? CLIVE: Death.

So yeah the Doctor is a Legend. Next, in New Earth he is called "the lonely God". Very normal guy core.

It gets worse, who could forget this wonderful speech in The Family of Blood ?

LATIMER: Because it was waiting. And because I was so scared of the Doctor. JOAN: Why? LATIMER: Because I've seen him. He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. DOCTOR: Stop it. LATIMER: He's ancient and forever. He burns at the centre of time and he can see the turn of the universe. DOCTOR: Stop it! I said stop it. LATIMER: And he's wonderful.

The Next one is by Steven Moffat but crucially still during 10s era so STILL part of how the doctor was characterised. RTD approved you might say.

DOCTOR: Don't play games with me. You just killed someone I liked. That is not a safe place to stand. I'm the Doctor, and you're in the biggest library in the universe. Look me up. (There is a pause, then the shadows withdraw.) ANITA: You have one day.

I added it because I saw people act as if the Eleventh Hour's resolution with a doctor boast was completly out of character and not something he literaly did one series before.

Ok now for the real silly, that scene in Last of the Time Lords where the power of PRAYER turned 10 young and hyper powerful. For real. Yeah like a sort of Space Jesus.

Bonus: that part in Voyage of the Damned when he flied with two angels lifting him like ok lmao.

Those were just the ones I could remember out of the top of my head but "just a guy" my entire fucking ass. Go rewatch that show.

I feel like Moffat is often accused of turning the doctor into too much of an incredibly powerful figure not because he did it more than RTD but because he discussed the trope and as such put a lot of attention on it . All of those I pointed out in RTD are played incredibly straight but in Moffat's era the doctor's legend is a problem. It's the plot of the s5 finale, he became so big his ennemies allied. It's the reason he gets called out in "A good man goes to war"

RIVER: This was exactly you. All this. All of it. You make them so afraid. When you began, all those years ago, sailing off to see the universe, did you ever think you'd become this? The man who can turn an army around at the mention of his name. Doctor. The word for healer and wise man throughout the universe. We get that word from you, you know. But if you carry on the way you are, what might that word come to mean? To the people of the Gamma Forests, the word Doctor means mighty warrior. How far you've come. And now they've taken a child, the child of your best friends, and they're going to turn her into a weapon just to bring you down. And all this, my love, in fear of you.

It continues in Asylum of the Daleks where Moffat tries to erase the doctor's legend and is concluded somewhat in s8 finale with the proposition that what the doctor actually is, is in fact an idiot.

DOCTOR: I really didn't know. I wasn't sure. You lose sight sometimes. Thank you! I am not a good man! I am not a bad man. I am not a hero. And I'm definitely not a president. And no, I'm not an officer. Do you know what I am? I am an idiot, with a box and a screwdriver. Just passing through, helping out, learning. I don't need an army. I never have, because I've got them. Always them. Because love, it's not an emotion. Love is a promise.

But nobody saying stuff like "Moffat made the doctor too important" ever watched Capaldi's era anyway so it's not like they would know.

#doctor who #RTD #Moffat #bit salty here

74 notes · View notes

juyofans · 2 months

Note

MOOT GAME: " make up a trope for your moots and their biases. doesn’t need to be romantic. can be crackfic/funny/anything you want ^ㅇ(๑>◡<๑)ㅇ^ "

HIII my first ask game on this account, thank you for sending this in 💖💖 i'm only gonna do a few people cause i have to go back to studying so enjoy!

@yunhoszn — you keep falling asleep in class but one day, coffee appears on your desk to help u stay awake. you're like who tf is gifting me coffee, my exact order, in this stupid ass speech class. turns out it's the guy who sits in the back row (yunho) that has a small crush on you because of one time you helped him out with an assignment

@winterchimez — you're an elementary school teacher and sangyeon is the single dad of one of your students. i know we've talked about this before but genuinely it would be so heartwarming to see him be the best dad ever (bonus points if he's a girl dad)

@bro-atz — god ever since you mentioned that you studied film, i get reminded of this wip idea i have where you fall in love with the lead of the film you're directing (in my head i think this would suit seonghwa). bonus points if you're in college, you're just a student trying to make a short film for one of your classes

@jaehunnyy — oddly specific but i feel like you would accidentally text the wrong number (san's number) and end up becoming close with him through texts. i feel like you guys are both very talkative and you would definitely fall for each other even if you have no idea what the other looks like.

@sungbeam — hear me out. you keep babysitting this 13 year old who complains that he doesnt need a babysitter but u get paid well So. you never find out who's paying you until you accidentally fall asleep and get woken up by this smokin hot dude (hongjoong) who's like Thanks for always taking care of my brother 💖 you end up staying a little longer each time to talk to hongjoong after that

#꣑୧ . . . inbox #꣑୧ . . . my loves #lmk if u guys want a part 2 i didnt add a lot of people

13 notes · View notes

streets-in-paradise · 10 months

Text

Anonymous Hero - Hector of Troy x (Fem)Warrior!Reader (requested)

Troy (2004) Oneshot

Requested by @g-m-kaye

“ (...) If you’re still taking fic requests for TROY (?) I’d be super duper excited if you’d write an AU fic for Hector x reader character where Hector, instead of being married to Andromache, falls for a slender Trojan warrior who has his back in the first melee… but unexpectedly turns out to be a woman when Hector demands the warrior remove his helmet & reveal “his” identity 👀 (I’ve always loved the “girl masquerading as boy” trope - ever since Shakespeare!) … and pls do make it as steamy as you like!! Lol (...)”

Hope you will like this, darling! I loved writing it.

Word Count 2.5 K

Warnings: Hector going through a Li Shang bi panic, Single Hector AU ( sorry, Andromache. You are great, but we love your man). Very few proofreading ( it’s almost 3 AM and i’m tired, but wanted to get it posted)

Summary: In the heat of battle during the arrival of the greeks Hector ends up greatly impressed by the courageous response of a singular soldier, but this stranger refuses to claim ríghts on the feat. Feeling even more intrigued about him afterwards, the prince is determined to find him in full unawareness of how the peculiar fighter has quite a few more surprises to give.

Tags: @mysticaldeanvoidhorse @helie-brain @rfkfan

The sound of the bell brought the expected news nobody wanted to hear. Greek veils in the horizon, a thousand ships about to reach trojan shore, giving the impression that Agamemnon had emptied the continent to avenge the insulted honor of his brother. As the city observed the spectacle with horror, heralds were calling all the available men to fight in what would be the first defense in a crushing war. The disastrous numerical difference forced desperate measures and the army commanded by Prince Hector needed to engross its lines somehow. For so, many soldiers who weren’t in optimal conditions were needed: young lads stepping into combat too soon and old men following the example of Glaucus.

Fillment additions, men that were there for numbers but weren’t warriors in the heroic sense of the term. They had very little possibilities of success against the myrmidons, fearless and bloodthirst beasts that were presenting a hard challenge to the Apollonian Guard even before the landing of Ajax. If some of the best in Troy were suffering because of them, arming that sacrificial reserve sounded like pointless cruelty. Those men were doomed to be nothing more than fresh meat to engross the downs of Achilles and Ajax, easily removable obstacles slowing down their encounter with more qualified enemies. No one would have expected much of them, at least until one proved the assumptions of the strategists to be completely wrong.

After Achilles performed miracles throwing a spear that killed Tecton from an impossible distance, doing so with a cocky bragger naturality, the elite warriors were completely discouraged. Even Hector experienced true horror for the first time in many years, sensibly affected by the death of the friend who had always got his back in the battlefield. Despite the myrmidons being implicitly warned to leave him for their leader, many tried to take that contextual advantage doing their shots in trying to take down the prince. Clearly, not everyone was willing to listen after being exhorted to fight through a hubris induced speech about reaching immortal glory.

In that spirit-wrecking point of the battle, with a temple destroyed and priests slaughtered by an enemy that knew no limits, the disorganized crowd of elite warriors fleeing left a chance for the relegated men of Troy to shine. A small, slender soldier that could have made Ajax laugh if he would have faced him courageously assumed the role of Tecton protecting the prince in the chaos. Hector was equally moved and amazed by the man fighting beside him. He looked weaker than his brother, probably a young lad from that desperate aid reserve, yet he was fighting with the push of a man twice his size. He followed all the way through the carnage inside the temple and would have gone to the end of the line accompanying him to the encounter of Achilles, if Hector himself wouldn’t have commanded otherwise. The sacrificial devotion of that soldier felt personal beyond any measures, it left a mark on his memory that eclipsed the shocking first impression Achilles wanted to feel being causing him.

Although relegated due to his fragile appearance, that nameless young man fought with the kind of honor the famous greek warlord lacked and Hector was finding a strange sense of hope in that. He also couldn’t help admiring some of his gracious movements at times, wondering if he could perhaps have been a disguise of the god defending his altar. That would have at least explained the most incredible aspect of the situation: his unexplainable attraction towards him.

No details of the episode were referenced in the war council that night. Archeptolemus, his political rival in religious circles, would have used it against him and the prince was already very much irritated by his misuse of religion to discredit him. If the soft looking soldier was Apollo fighting beside him or just a regular mortal he had just fallen for, he would have to figure it out by himself. The hopeful reminder of him helped the prince tolerate the newest terrible choice of his brother. Although Paris promised an easy resolution meant to take place the next morning, he was walking to his death and he wasn’t ready to let him die. Unlike his mysterious new favorite, the youngest prince didn’t possess any dormant courage to be released in a critical situation.

Paris needed to meet that man, either to exhort miraculous bravery in him or to make him desist from that purpose. It was the excuse that Hector invented to himself in his mildly desperate search for him.

“ Troy is worth fighting for because even the simplest of our men can make a difference. “ He was saying to his men in formation during the motivational speech that morning.” Agamemnon brought to us a parade of famous heroes without any inside cohesion. He expects us to tremble upon him because his battalions are all commanded by one of those, but yesterday we learned a valuable lesson. Their army is weak where ours is stronger. They are glory seekers harangued by leaders who think like arrogant children, we are men fighting for our country. We don’t rely on the fame of our heroes, but in the strength of our hearts!”

Ovations cutted him off for an instant, but he waited enough to continue and evaluated the reaction.

“ Yesterday we lost a hero, a man I loved like a brother, but that loss didn’t paralyzed us.Someone else made his way reclaiming his spot beside me. Not a fighter in a chariot, not an apollonian, but a simple man. He performed heroic acts worthy of being sung, but disappeared without claiming any authorship for his feat. While greeks are too preoccupied with making history to care about each other, even the smallest trojan is already a hero.”

Hector roamed the extension of the front lines on his horse,visually searching for the reaction revealing the man in question.

“ We have humble anonymous heroes that double theirs in courage and worth, and I now command this man to show himself and reclaim the honors he deserves.”

A tense silence followed the end of his speech, soldiers looking at their sides full with confusion searching for the one refusing such a high reward.

“ It is an order.” Hector finally reminded them. “ In the name of the loyalty he displayed, I demand him to give one step ahead.”

Suddenly, a slender figure emerged from the crowd and the prince got off his horse as he approached. His evident satisfaction made Paris hold a chuckle, especially because he noticed how his brother observed him.

“ I want the army to be a witness of my gratitude. “ Hector explained to him once he was finally standing in front of him. Only a shorter distance separated them. “ In a battle won by men desperate for recognition, you saved my life asking nothing in return. You have won my admiration and sincere affection; Troy must remember your name.”

The multitude started cheering until the honored fighter removed his helmet, surrendering himself to the pressure about knowing his identity. A sepulchral silence followed his movements, confusion spreading even further than before and the youngest prince was the only smiling face easy to spot.

Hector discovered a beautiful woman staring back at him and never before he had found anyone so desirable.His lips slightly parted despite him trying to pretend he wasn’t observing her in complete awe.

“ Do with me what you judge properly, my lord.” She fearlessly exclaimed. “ I surrender myself to you for disciplinary action.”

He recognized her, a young maiden from a remarkable family of trojan aristocrats. Firstborn daughter and her only brother was fifteen years old. The boy was named Ilus, at least he remembered that, but he couldn’t remember much of her and it frustrated him.

" I must assume you are here as a replacement for Ilus Peiroide. " He asked her in an affirmation. " A young boy, too young. His frame provided an easy hideout for you. "

" He is my brother. " The lady replicated. " Is the king of Mycenae the only one who can fight for his brother? I would rather bring dishonor to my family than burying Ilus. "

Her words resonated deeply with him. Not only his fondness of her kept increasing, Hector simply couldn't blame her. However, he had to act as a leader.

" At least allow her to plead her case, i like her." Paris commented, doing his brother the favor of saying what he couldn't. " This is my war, one that is being fought over a woman I brought here. Wouldn't it be a blatant hypocrisy if we don't let this girl speak?"

She smiled at him, only deviating her attention from Hector for a brief instant, to what Paris replied with a friendly wink.

" You don't have much time, the greeks will arrive soon..." Hector pointed out. " Your brave acts are not being questioned, but you must make yourself accountable for your transgression. Not to me, but to our countrymen."

The intense eye contact going on between them was loaded with a tension that didn't resemble a grudge of any kind.

" Look at them and tell them why you did this. "

" I listened to your speeches and felt the call deep inside, in my heart. " She provocatively replied, admitting reasons beyond the initial sympathetic motive palatable to their societal perceptions. " My prince, you harangue the men speaking about freedom, but the rules of war don't threaten theirs as heavily as they menace ours. Are we all going to pretend we don't know what happened to Princess Briseis just because the King can't stand the shame? A woman doesn't simply disappear or dies in war, she is taken by the winner. Women don't get the privilege of dying, we are the ones who will be reduced to slavery if the city falls. If Helen came here searching for her freedom to love... Why can't I defend my own freedom, and all my countrywomen? "

Even the ones who had reason to present objections couldn't argue with that, the presence of Helen was a disruptive element for trojan society. Her existence there had proven to challenge the traditional conceptions for quite a few established institutions, marriage being the main in the list but not the only one.

" If this ends in battle, you have one more chance to prove your value to the city. Only one, and i am granting it to you in honor of the great service you performed for me yesterday." Hector warned her. " Consider my debt paid with this indulgence. "

She smiled and that time it was for him. Hector had to pretend coldness, but he would have done anything to see that again.

" I will not disappoint you, my prince. If you pick me, I will follow you to the gates of Tartarus. "

His pulse accelerated hearing that, making him feel the improper effect that the woman had on him.

The promise turned out to be true, since another opportunity for fighting presented itself and she did something impressive. Trojans weren't as surprised as the greeks were when Hector slaughtered Menelaus to save Paris from that hopeless combat, unleashing a new battle through the breaking of the pact. To them it was clear that the story of the shieldmaiden who defied the concept of honor replacing her younger brother to save him must had inspired the heir prince. Curiously but not casually, a great victory was obtained and both performed the highlights of it. Barely after Hector triumphed in his solitary combat against Ajax, the lady forced the definitive retreat of the greeks for the day by attacking the mycenaeans.

Her spear throw killed the charioteer of Agamemnon. Not satisfied with that, she wounded him with the sword as he was attempting to control the horses. Nothing severe, the blade barely caressed his arm, but it reminded the power delirious king that he was a mortal and in that opportunity she did reclaimed the feat knowing it would increase his humiliation.

The very same men who were judging her in silence that morning celebrated her alongside Hector in the afternoon. She was invited to the palace, where King Priam allowed her to be acknowledged through his son's choice of allowing her involvement. She promised him to help in the case of her niece, if she could be allowed after the immense offense she gave to the supreme greek king. Helen herself praised her bravery, granting hers and Paris' support altogether.

It was like a dream, a very vivid dream where she was getting noticed being who she wanted to be. Even Hector, the man she had hopelessly loved in silence for many years, was looking at her in a different way.

Among the ladies of trojan high society she never felt particularly special and nothing made her feel that way. Despite being daughter of one of the local nobles in his own city, Hector barely noticed her. She used to be one of the many silly girls looking at him with pointless adoration at some special social event while his eyes followed only the frame of Princess Andromache of Thebe. A woman who represented everything she wasn't, a perfectly adjusted lady any man would want for a wife.

The order of the world was turned upside down, Hector couldn't take his eyes of her. Even without the disguise he still seemed to admire her and she felt it hitting way deeper than what the moral undertones of his speech implied.

" If I have been an inspiration for you, let me say I can finally repay you." He shamelessly admitted her as soon as they were left alone. " You inspired me today, sometimes you need strength to leave your honor behind for love."

" Is that an invitation?" She teased him. " Don't keep me waiting, I'm not a child anymore."

Hector sipped some wine without breaking eye contact through the action, then left the cup to subtly lay a hand on her cheek.

" Then you must be aware of how you are making me feel."

She lifted her head just a bit, showing how delighted with his touch she was.

" How can I doubt it when you are looking at me like this?" She purred with want. " I fully meant what I told you this morning. Pick me, I could be yours if you want me. "

Infatuated as he was, he could have proposed ríght there after that suggestive comeback, but he límited himself to kissing her hoping that could help him slow down.

#troy 2004 #hector of troy #eric bana #hector x reader #hector of troy x reader #eric bana x reader #troy fanfiction #troy

53 notes · View notes

bisexualfemalemess · 10 months

Text

*HSMTMTS SEASON 4 SPOILERS*

Final episode. Oh, this is gonna kill me. Let’s go.

Poor ricky worrying about gina. HE WAS NOT HAVING DANI TRYNA JUMP IN LMAO. Ooh, there��s my babygirl G. Ricky being a supportive boyfriend, awww. EJ AS BOLTON, yasss. Gina wanted ricky to ask her to stay and he didn’t want to make the same mistake he did with nini, miscommunication trope, i hate it here. RICKY BOWEN IS A FUCKING MENACE. “hey, by the way, who the fuck are you guys?” Been asking myself this question for four years, we still don’t know. Awww, Ricky, baby. Ah, Monique coleman giving kourtney advice, aww cute. WISH WE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AN ACTUAL THE BOYS ARE BACK SCENE. TIM, I’M UNDER YOUR BED. Ooh, rina paralleling troyella, babies. Why is everyone going to ej for advice lmao, even miss jenn. That boy is a freshman in college. Maddox is so pissed that ash and red could be back together. Madison knew hahha. MADLYN CONFESSION AND KISS, LET’S GO LESBIANS/ SAPPHICS! Also, the fact that ej carved their names into a tree, he knew since the beginning and was a supporter, 😂 Terri back off, gina’s already hesitant. Jealous ricky, awww. GINA JUST WALK AWAY, SHE’S SO GOOD, My gabriella fr. “Be good to her. Just please take care of her in New Zealand.” My boy loves her so much 😭😭😭😭😭😭. JENNZZARA ARE SO CUTE. NOT THE RINA LOOK EXCHANGE BEFORE MY BOY RICKY SINGS SCREAM. THEY’RE SO TROYELLA RN. Antoine is me. Aww not Benjamin touching his heart while watching miss jenn perform. JETNEY SCENE. MADDOX IS GOING TO NEW ZEALAND TOO WTF??? Aww, big red worrying about Ricky, such a good friendship. Ricky worrying about his future now that gina’s leaving. Rina right here, right now reprise version?! It work so well for them at this point in their story. My poor children, tim istg if they don’t get their happy end i’m suing. THE LOOK EXCHANGE AND GINAS SMILE AFTER THE SONG, DON’T MIND ME DYING ON THE FLOOR. HAHA MRS POTTER DID NOT LIKE THAT. WAIT ANTOINE IS ANDY??? WAIT ANDY AND RED???? ANOTHER RINA LOOK EXCHANGE DURING CURTAIN CALL, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! andy screaming is me. DEWEY IS A SOFTIE OMG. AND A RINA CHEEK KISS! Seb 😭😭😭. Gina, my movie star baby. Ooof ricky’s speech hit me where it hurts. I hate it here. ITS OVER KOURTNEY SHUT UP 😭😭😭😭. G OH SHE LOOKS GORGEOUS AND THE WAY RICKY LOOKED AT HER AND MOUTHED ‘wow’. He’s in such awe of her, my otp. Oof, gina’s speech also hit me where it hurts. Not her calling jet out when it comes to kourtney haha. THE WAY SHE WENT THROUGH THE PEOPLE ONE BY ONE OH AND WHAT SHE SAID TO RICKY OMG 😭😭😭 “But with you I feel so seen, and so understood and so known.” THATS SO MUCH BETTER THAN ANY I LOVE YOU, OH THEY DESTROY ME. I MEAN SHE LITERALLY SAID “this one is gonna kill me.” The way the camera couldn’t find ej 😂😂😂. MISS JENN IS THEIR MOTHER, GINA CONFIRMED. THE RINA HUG AFTER HER SPEECH TO HIM PLS I’M ON THE FLOOR. NOT ASHLYN FINDING OUT MADDOX HAS TO LEAVE TOO. I HATE IT HERE. RINA AND MADLYN ENDGAME PLS. OH THE WAY RICKY’S VOICR BROKE WHEN HE SAID “I DIDN’T SAY I LOVR YOU.” OOH GO FIND THAT GUITAR RICKY. Ooh mack’s not doing Romeo and Juliette, ha. GO TELL YOUR GIRL YOU LOVR HER RICKY, GET THE GIRL. OMG RICKY! “Am i too late?” Some things never change. RICKY. CONFESSING. HIS. LOVE. TO. GINA. WITH. A. SONG. IN. FRONT. OF. REPORTERS. HER MOM. ALL THEIR FRIENDS. THEIR TEACHERS. HER BOSS. DON’T MIND ME ON THE FLOOR SOBBING HYSTERICALLY. THE LYRICS??? ‘Cause i love you fells a lot like high school and forever after that.”STFU. EVERYONE JOINING IN 😭😭😭 RINA ENDGAME OMG. RINI LOVE CONFESSION COULD NEVER. ITS HIS FAVORITE HAT SHUT UP. STFU STFU STFU THE EMBROIDERY ON THE TAG STFU. “Just like me.” RINA ENDGAME. OMG GINA MOVED THE MOVIE TO SALT LAKE BEFORE RICKY EVER EVEN SHOWED UP, RINA ENDGAME FR. AWW MISS JENNS STAYING TOO. RINA FOREHEAD KISS SHUT UP! Ricky is such a good boyfriend, helping her down. Terri finally approves! Ha. MISS JENN AND MR MAZZARA FINALLY. GINA WEARING RICKYS JACKET AHHH, cuties. BORN TO BE BRAVE NAWW. LAST RINA CHEEK KISS, IM FINE 😭😭😭😭 AWW THEY WENT TO DENNY’S. What a nice nod to nini. Omg the post credit scene STOP IT RN.

Seblos endgame ✅

Jetney endgame ✅ (kinda)

Madlyn endgame ✅

Jennzzara endgame ✅

MOST IMPORTANTLY RINA ENDGAME ✅✅✅ THEY CALLED US DELUSIONAL BUT WE MADE IT RINAS. THIS SEASON WAS FOR US. THIS IS THE BEST DISNEY SHIP THEY WERE SO INSANE FOR A DISNEY SHIP, OMG. OTP FOREVER, Golden retriever boyfriend and black cat girlfriend fr.

Question; Are we all in agreement that ricky definitely took over as Romeo after mack left the movie???

#gina porter #hsmtmts #rina #ricky bowen #ricky x gina #madlyn #jetney #seblos #jennzzara

35 notes · View notes

ccl-c · 7 months

Text

some things i wanted to draw a while ago but never had the time because work has been so intense. now that s2 ended this way …

long rambling below:

i had been having a very bad feeling about the “devastating loss” and fuck it really happened (it being foreshadowed from ep1 is kind of funny but fuck).

i did enjoy the episode, and if this is the end of the show i'm good with that. ep8 isn't just about izzy's death obviously, nor is the season or the show about izzy, and i know it's a bridge season where problems are not solved, but i need a way to get over this, so.

within the episode i think the death is beautiful, but within his whole arc, for me it's the timing and david's explanations that i found kind of awkward and disappointing. it might be because the budget got cut but i think also because izzy's arc was a bit too prioritised especially if david wanted to stick to the mentor-death-in-act-two trope (izzy is my favourite character but i have been feeling the unbalance since ep3).

izzy's last speech sounded almost too early for ed's arc. letting a repressed traumatised amputated (also talented and romantic and sometimes humourous) elder apologise for what he believed half of his lifetime and die voluntarily (to some extent; i think he said “i wanna go” mostly because he knew the wound was fatal, but then why must it be fatal it was on the left side?) when he was just physically and mentally getting better is tragic but it also could have been a more satisfying death. i am very biased and very bad at literature, but i think if izzy and ed got to earnestly communicate about their relationship and past issues, if ed had more interactions with the crew to (re)build the mutual love, and maybe if besides telling ed to “just be ed” izzy really got to see it (when he's not dying), his story would be more complete and he would really be leaving at his happiest.

of course death is inevitable in life and unpredictable in piracy, of course there are tropes in tv shows, and of course it's part of the journey for the audience to feel devastated. but i read multiple interviews and the central idea just seems to be “the mentor often dies in the second act” which is valid in itself, but then s2 becomes “how can we make the most out of his last moments” (after posting this i heard that “funerals strengthen families” dropped; i'm just so disappointed i don't know what to say). honestly i was confused about how david said “let's give con all the toys he could play with” (yes if i had con in my show for one last season i'd want to let him do everything possible as well and i am grateful david did, but after all con played a side character; also it's cruel to “give him everything” while hiding the ending from him until halfway through the shooting); it's supposed to be a story and not a talent show (um). if time is too short for his ideal arc then maybe he should do fewer things but each better paced, or maybe the mentor-death-in-act-two trope needed to be adjusted, or maybe it wasn't the right trope at all.

i might be dumb but i didn't see the mentor-hero relationship before stede said blackbeard said izzy made him the captain he was, and even then i honestly thought it was mostly stede talking for ed. when david put it like that i can see little traits of it in s1, but i find the jesus-judas (jcs) dynamic much more obvious. let alone the father figure thing; didn't see it at all.

there are many ways to mark an end and for a recurring character to leave (buttons turning into a seagull was beautiful; the swede temporarily leaving to become jackie's husband was also lovely; but ivan's death mentioned by fang just looked like they had to get rid of him); ultimately what frustrates me is that it's unclear what the concept of death itself brings to izzy's arc at this point. major character “deaths” in this show is often associated with change or rebirth, and i'd expect a realistic humanly death from severe wound to also open up something new in his story or in general, even if his life ends here. maybe that's for s3. but for now he died just because their power-thirsty enemy hated him and his gorgeous speech and piracy; ed did not seem to consider the crew his family, nor did the crew seem to bother. piracy did become more about belonging though but that's not his legacy.

on a side note, letting a disabled elder (who was previously seen seriously irritating ricky) escort ricky and no one noticing ricky hid a gun? izzy was playing with fire (ha) to talk to ricky like that but at least ed and zheng and jim and jackie could have been more alert. then roach was asked to look for bandages and nothing happened afterwards? that was the guy who replanted his own arm back and who was ready to chop off lucius's finger. if he just came up to izzy's side and tried to take care of him and then izzy said “no it's too late i want to go painlessly”, or if someone said “let izzy and ed have their moment”, then okay, but having roach try to save izzy with no follow up is kind of disrespectful to roach's character.

with how much david loves izzy and con there probably was a better version of this story that didn't fully make it into the show. that said, i do work in a creative industry with various constraints in many directions; it happens that creators have intentions and priorities that the audience does not understand and vice versa, it happens that budgets got cut and what you deliver is not what you would have made in better circumstances, but when a mainstream tv show got such polarised reactions about one specific part of the story, there might be a real problem and the budget or the creative direction won't be enough to justify it.

then if all this is for izzy to be brought back in s3 i'm curious to see how it will be played out. his death was shown in such an explicit way and he even got buried on land (honestly the burial was weird and a bit creepy for me but well) it doesn't seem likely he survives again; it might be fun if he reincarnates as a creature or appears in new flashbacks, or in the gravey basket.

(also, now that izzy's dead, i hope con can share his version of the backstory of izzy's ring.)

my point is, maybe, that i think izzy's arc in s2 was so saturated and glamorous and full of potential that it felt too important to end, while the main romance and the crew's arc could have used some more time to address more context or some issues underlying since s1 for example. also lots of things weren't consistent and many interesting points were never addressed again, but i hope it's left open for s3.

but it doesn't undo what has been great about this show. the death scene itself was beautiful too, and the whole cast and crew deserve an hour-long standing ovation.

i guess it's just a bit like you went on a really fun roadtrip with a beloved friend but had an unexpected misunderstanding leading to conflict with said friend at the end of the last day. eventually you probably stay friends because you always had a good time, but you will be thinking about the conflict.

#ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands

22 notes · View notes

epitome-of-an-openbook · 1 year

Note

op I read your steddie fic where post and specifically the part abt Steve being intelligent got my attention bc (and also youre so right abt the whole thing)

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart (unconventionally smart my beloved) but for neurotypicals I'm told it makes him sound some variation of stupid/oblivious/dumb (when he's def not haha)

-what are your opinions about the fics where Steve is _pretending_ to be stupid? Like, plays into the jock bit, and makes people think he's slow to use it to his advantage? not necessarily in a "bad person" way (and especially if you can tell he's smart from the outside/his own pov)? >>>esp if he doesn't even realize he's doing it?

-how about Steve's concussions/neurodivergency affecting the more "conventionally smart" aspects of his brain? like, his memory is shit and he can't spell properly or he can't do complex math, but he knows everyone's expressions and holds a scary amount of talent in physical activities he's never done before type thing (insp after me who got complimented by the "hardass" coach after trying boxing simply because I watch and calculate and how that's easy for me to switch into my own movements)

-opinions on Steve "looking dumb" because he's simply...not American? Like, his English is plenty good but that's because he's been copying speech patterns for so long now, and the Harringtons are tied to some p important Italian families so he almost never speaks English there either, and I personally like the fics where he's frustrated simply because he can't understand (like the story about the Korean immigrant and the lovely teacher) and also the scene in modern family where Gloria says "I know what I meant to mean! do you know how smart I am in my own language?"

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

I've a whole "trope theory" about different types of intelligence groups tend to have, and simply put it goes

book smarts, street (survival) smarts, emotional smarts, social smarts

and how those mix and match to show through in characters that are disregarded as stupid and I personally believe Steve is very Socially _and_ emotionally smart but because he's arguably in line to be the most toxic masculine people by reputation (not personality but the past -both his and his dads- linger) people don't notice it.

I'd love to chat more both abt my theory and Steve in general <3

Hi anon, of course I want to talk about Steve's intelligence - because I am so so so tired of him being written off as the fool, and I am especially tired of people pretending like he is not the most emotionally intelligent person in the show other than potentially Will or Joyce. Also in advance, I totally go on a BUNCH of tirades and rants so I'm sorry if you lose the thread at all, I just have a lot of thoughts and they all FEEL important to me. So yeah, this is a long one.

-what about the fics where Steve is visibly (?? idk englishs not my thing) autistic? Cause if you're neurodivergent and can actually follow his thought process along he's super smart?

I haven't read many fics where Neurodivergent! Steve's divergence is specifically autism and personally I feel that other divergences fit him better such as OCD (see - his need to keep things tidy, instances of reduced impulse control, repetitive/ritualistic behaviors, hypervigilance, and agitation), ADHD (see - his need to be moving lots of pacing and bouncing, difficulty concentrating on the group discussions, impulsivity), Dyslexia/Dyscalculia (personal/popular headcanon), or something that would affect his audio processing (personal/unpopular headcanon; see- being unable to get past the music on the recording, difficulty following along with the group discussions, immediately losing track of the group in the Upside Down Wheeler's house when he thinks he hears Dustin)- but I definitely read him as someone whose brain works in a way that is non-typical which is something we ABSOLUTELY see in season 3 where he focuses in on the music and it seems like he literally can't focus on the Russian words until he knows what the music is.

But what it comes down to is that so many people read the fact that he didn't get into college (which is more indicative of a lack of testing skills than it is for actual intelligence) and his inability to follow along with group discussions about Upside Down stuff (which could point to issues with concentration or audio processing or just a lack of knowledge regarding the lingo being used) as a way to characterize him entirely as an idiot/fool. This of course isn't helped by the Duffers refusing to deepen his character beyond "he was bad but now he's good because now he's interacting with intelligent™ people". So to answer this question, I'm all for fics that explore Steve's intellect through a lens of "no he's not dumb, he just processes information in an atypical way".

I'm not 100% sure I'm interpreting this question correctly but I have some issues with fics where the character of interest is 'pretending' to be stupid so it entirely depends on what the motivation behind doing so is.

If the motivation is "I play dumb so that I can fit in better and not be bullied for being smart" I don't like it that much - I feel like in a lot of media, and American media especially, there is this perpetuation of Smart=Unpopular/Bullied/Unathletic and Dumb=Popular/Bully/Athletic and I don't like that because in my lived experience that really isn't the case - I have friends that were the Valedictorian's of their high schools by gpa that were also class president and soccer captian and genuinely good people and some of the meanest people I have ever met were stereotypical™ nerds. So if the motivation is that he pretends to be dumb specifically to fit in and not get bullied I don't really like it. HOWEVER, if the motivation is "I downplay my intelligence so that people underestimate me" that's different and I can get behind it to a degree - no one is perfect and Steve was not the best person at first so him having a little manipulation bit like this would make sense.

Also this leads into another thing I feel we don't talk about enough - Steve is a jock with a head for STRATEGY and you cannot tell me otherwise. The ability to strategize is something we like to take away from jocks all across media, but as a former athlete myself I can tell you that a LOT of thought goes into athletic strategy and it translates well to other aspects of life. We also see Steve make quick strategic decisions A LOT but we never mention them - some examples include when he leads the scoops troop through the crowded russian base w/o getting caught - some of this is simply poor writing/tracking and i will admit that but if we suspend our disbelief for a second it's Steve that looks at the set up takes in the information and says "Follow me, stay low and be quick" as they navigate that scene, we also see it in season two when him and Dustin get to the junkyard and he says "oh yeah this will do nicely" and then he proceeds to set the stage for catching Dart with a clearing to trap him, a reinforced fort for protection and surveillance and honestly the only reason this goes wrong is because there was more than one demodog. So yeah being good with strategy lends itself well to Steve using his intelligence as a manipulation for others to underestimate him. I personally would love for there to be a fic where one of the kids challenges Steve to a strategy game like chess or risk or something like that and for him to DECIMATE them because strategy is the thing he's good at.

For one I would like to quickly put out there that Steve almost definitely got a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) from the Russian Torture - and probably PCS (Post Concussion Syndrome) from the fight with Billy (I would also like to quickly mention that these are different things with different causes and potential future outcomes/side effects, I feel like they get confused a lot in this fandom which is totally fine but just a reminder that a concussion comes specifically from your brain impacting your skull and how he receives his head injuries from Jonathan and the Russians would indicate to me that he probably didn't have a concussion those times but when he crashes the car in season three he could have easily gotten a whiplash concussion which is something we don't talk about but does actually happen a lot and it's less likely to get treated because people don't realize you can get a concussion w/o hitting your head. Also I am so sorry about this head trauma info dump, it's just a subject I have lots of experience with/knowledge about).

ANYWAY, yeah TBIs and PCS can really mess with your head and are often the cause of things like memory loss - as well as vision and hearing impairment. Also TBIs have been studied a lot in American Football players and sometimes they can even cause shifts in personality. (Also @peter-pantomime has some really good discussions and headcanons regarding Steve's head traumas so I highly suggest their content both here and on tiktok.)

And yes, Steve consistently proves to be extremely socially intelligent. You do not get to the top of the high school food chain by simply being attractive or athletic, you have to be capable of understanding and manipulating certain social interactions - walking into a room and knowing who to talk to and who to avoid, popularity is often just a matter of networking and part of the reason Steve loses his popularity is because he abandons the network he built himself up through and switches it out for a group of people much lower on the social ladder. We also can tell he's incredibly emotionally intelligent through his interactions with others - scenes that really show this are Steve cleaning up the theater sign and going to apologize to Jonathan (some might say this is just emotional maturity but i would like to point out that he was emotionally intelligent enough to realize that it was Jonathan that deserved the apology instead of just Nancy) (s1), when Will comes home and we see him empathize with the worry of Joyce & Jonathan (s2), when he can seemingly tell that something happened between Nancy and Jonathan but instead of lashing out he supports her (also s2), when Robin comes out to him and also technically rejects him but he just treats her like normal (s3), like… every scene with him and Max in S4, and also when he tells Eddie that he needs to stop being so hard on himself when he keeps talking about how much of a coward he is (also S4).

I have never seen this done before, but I absolutely adore this concept, if you (or anyone else) has some fic recs with this trope 👀👀👀 please share.

-thoughts on someone lifting their head up from nerd shit and realizing Steve's been making like many smart remarks that nobody listens to cause he doesn't know nerd lingo?

Yes do it, caveat: I think it needs to be Robin, Eddie, or Will - I think everyone else is a little too in their own way of realizing Steve has consistently made good points.

For Robin, as a Queer Platonic Stobin truther, I feel like if anyone were to really get into Steve's brain it would be her.

For Eddie, I feel it comes from that same vein that we see people pointing out that Eddie is the only person who directly answer Steve's questions, so it would make sense for him to be the one to say "wait hey - Steve is actually asking incredibly relevant questions that lead to a point he wants to make."

For Will, I simply think that he's the most emotionally intelligent member of the original Party and also the one with the fewest interactions with Steve so if he were to be with Steve in a time of crisis he wouldn't ignore Steve's thoughts the way that sometimes happens and notice something about how he processes information or something and be like "why did you guys all tell me he was dumb, he's making extremely relevant points right now?"

(also unrelated but trans!Steve MTF _or_ FTM is so important to me <3)

<3 Trans!Steve 🤝 GenderFluid!Steve solidarity

I love fics where Steve explores gender identity or at least his relationship with gender presentation, I'm partial to GenderFluid!Steve but regardless I love this.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #let steve be emotionally intelligent #stranger things headcanons #Steve Harrington headcanons #asks #Steve is intelligent pls discuss #tw head trauma

106 notes · View notes