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unclewaynemunson · 7 months

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@bigskyandthecoldgun made this very big-brained post about the perfect miscommunication potential of Eddie's heart monitor betraying his feelings for Steve while he's recovering. @mostrizzaward asked me to write it and how could I say no to that :D

The first time Steve sets foot in Eddie's hospital room is terrifying. Eddie is as pale as a dead man. He has dozens of wires attached to his body, that are connected to just as many machines and monitors displaying complicated graphs, all softly beeping at varying intervals. Everyone in the room talks in soft, grave voices and all the nurses and doctors have matching serious frowns on their faces.

But what seemed to be impossible happens on a dreary Wednesday afternoon in April: Eddie opens his eyes for the very first time since he passed out in Dustin's arms. Steve is at work when that happens, but rushes to the hospital as soon as he can, and suddenly Eddie's room seems a lot less terrifying than before. Because Eddie is grinning at him from his bed, even though he's still pale and weak. He's not only alive, he's awake. It's a goddamn miracle. His wide grin is familiar despite the big scar that has marred his cheek. Fuck, Steve doesn't think he'll ever be able to put into words how much he missed that smile.

Eddie rasps his name as a greeting and Steve comes closer to the bed. But then, something weird happens.

The machines around Eddie's bed are still beeping, but there's less of them now. The electronic symphony of noises has been reduced to a duet of two different beep patterns that are clearly distinguishable from each other. And one of them speeds up rapidly when Steve leans over the bed in an awkwardly angled attempt to give Eddie a hug.

“You okay?” Steve asks, worried. He wonders if he should call for a nurse.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie mumbles. His eyes flash towards the monitor in question for a second and a blush creeps over his white cheeks. He seems ill at ease; Steve can't quite put his finger on it but there's something weirdly awkward about the whole thing. He seems otherwise fine, though, so Steve decides no nurses will be necessary.

He clears his throat and takes a seat in the chair next to the bed. For a moment, he wonders why he's even here. They weren't exactly friends before all of this happened. It would be perfectly normal for Eddie not to want him around – and yet here he is, visiting him in the hospital like it's the most normal thing in the world. What is he even doing here?

But then, Eddie starts talking about how his uncle was with him when he woke up and gave him this book he's been wanting to buy for ages.

“He cried, Steve, I've never seen him cry in my life, but he was bawling, I'm not kidding!”

Despite his animated tone, Eddie's voice is still weak and his eyes keep falling shut even while he is talking. Steve knows that he shouldn't overstay his welcome and let Eddie rest, but he finds himself too captivated in how alive Eddie is, even though his whole presence – his loud voice, his broad arm gestures, his expressive face – seems a little bit toned down. So when Eddie tells him with a vague gesture to his nightstand that he tried to read his new book, but found himself too tired to focus properly, Steve finds himself proposing to read it to Eddie before he even realizes what he's doing.

And then the weird thing happens again. Eddie starts smiling at the exact same time the heart monitor accelerates.

Steve chooses to pretend like he doesn't notice. Instead, he takes the book from the nightstand and flips it open on the first page. He starts reading aloud, but he can't really keep his attention on the words that come out of his own mouth. He can't help but feel like he made a mistake. Is the heart monitor signaling to him that his presence is making Eddie uncomfortable? Shouldn't he have left Eddie alone to rest when he started getting tired? Why the hell did he ever think it'd be a good idea to read to him in the first place? He's never been a good reader, and certainly not a performer like Eddie. So he awkwardly stumbles his way through the words on the pages, in no way able to keep up with the complicated plot and no doubt failing spectacularly in the use of voices and appropriately ominous pauses and whatnot. Whenever he glances up from the pages, he finds Eddie leaning into his pillow with his eyes closed and a faint smile around his lips, only to find out he's lost track of where he was when he directs his attention back to the book in his hands.

It doesn't take long until Eddie's breathing becomes audibly deeper and evens out. Steve softly closes the book. He allows himself a few moments to do nothing but stare at Eddie's face and be grateful for the absence of a breathing tube between his lips, showing that he's only sleeping this time. Then, he gets up and tiptoes out of the room.

***

The weird thing with the heart monitor keeps happening every time Steve visits Eddie. It happens when he greets him, when he starts reading to him, and especially whenever he helps him adjust his position in the bed he's still chained to. Every time they touch, every time Steve gets close to him in any way, like clockwork. And every time, it's paired with some kind of physical reaction on Eddie's part: a blush on his cheeks, a somewhat forced chuckle, or sometimes even a badly concealed flinch, away from where Steve's hands are touching Eddie.

Steve pretends not to notice it, for Eddie's sake, but it can only happen so many times before he has to face the clear and obvious truth here: his presence is making Eddie extremely uncomfortable.

One part of it still doesn't make sense, though: Eddie actually asks him to read to him or to help him sit up or lie down again, and the next thing he knows, Eddie will suddenly be avoiding his gaze and that goddamn heart monitor will make it sound like Eddie is trying to break a sprint record instead of lounging in his bed, and he'll recoil from Steve's touch like he doesn't want his hands anywhere around him.

Steve muses over Eddie's odd behavior for days before he comes to the only logical conclusion: Eddie is actually repulsed by him and is too polite to tell him the truth. It's the only explanation that makes sense. It's just like what Steve realized so clearly that first time after Eddie woke up: they weren't friends before this, so why should they be now? Steve has no business being at his bedside all of a sudden, and Eddie doesn't have the heart to be mean to him and spell that out for him.

He can't even blame Eddie for it. For most of the time they've known each other, Steve was a major asshole, everybody knows that. Sure, they're twenty now and Steve has moved past high school stereotypes when he got close to Robin, but still... Those stereotypes made up everything about who they were, how they were perceived and who they interacted with for four whole years of their lives – six even, in Eddie's case. Eddie doesn't have any reason to want to let that go like Steve did.

He would never admit it to anyone, but the conclusion he reaches breaks Steve's heart: he should stay away from Eddie. Eddie has every right not to like having Steve around and Steve certainly doesn't want to add to his discomfort. He has been through enough, Steve wouldn't want to make this whole long and painful process of recovery even worse for Eddie by imposing his unwanted presence on him.

It doesn't matter that Steve has started to look forward to his hospital visits like they're the very best part of his week. It doesn't matter that Steve's heart starts racing for whole other reasons than Eddie's whenever they're close, whenever they're touching or whenever Eddie is smiling that beautiful smile of his. It doesn't matter that Steve wants nothing more than to keep reading to Eddie even though he still doesn't have a clue what that stupid book is about. None of it matters, because that's simply the price one has to pay for being an asshole and a bully in high school.

It doesn't matter, because there are way worse things than the guy you've developed feelings for secretly harboring a grudge against you. He still has Robin, he still has his little nerds, he even has Nancy back; as a friend, this time, which is honestly better than things ever were between them. He has the knowledge that Eddie survived and will be getting better with each passing day. Maybe he can start dating again, find a cute girl with blue eyes and blonde hair who doesn't remind him of the one person he can't be around, and it'll all be fine again. It doesn't matter.

Update: there's now a sequel post :D

#truly the ultimate idiot4idiot couple #don't mind me rambling about stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #fruity ficlet

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edenesth · 4 months

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The Key Keeper

Pairing: royal guard!Mingi x keykeeper!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

ATEEZ Masterlist

"Mingi, you're injured!"

Your eyes widened in horror as the head of the royal guard shielded you from an oncoming arrow, taking the hit in his back. Gritting his teeth, he reassured, "I'm fine. You go first; I'll catch up with you soon."

Panicked tears welling up, you shook your head and protested, "No, how can I leave you behind?!"

He softened at the sight of your tears, realising that your distress hurt him more than the arrow in his back. To assure you, he smirked teasingly, "What's this? Are you worried about me? I thought you hated me."

Clenching your fists, you resisted the urge to hit him, "Stop, this isn't funny! We need to get out of here together!"

Against his better judgement, he cupped your face and pressed his forehead against yours, "Listen to me, you're the royal key keeper, and these keys should be your top priority. Protect them with your life, and I'll protect you with mine," His heart ached as he saw your teary eyes tremble, "I promise I'll be there with you before you know it. Now go."

Left with no choice, you clutched the palace keys tightly and ran as you were told. Your heart broke as you threw one final, painful glance back at Mingi to see him forcing himself back onto his feet.

Everything happened so quickly. Just moments ago, he had approached you at your workstation, clad in full armour.

"Why are you here, Song Mingi? Don't you have better things to guard?" He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, "In case you missed the memo, word got out that the pirates are heading for the King's blade."

Your eyes widened at the revelation, "The King's blade? Are they out of their goddamned minds? How ambitious can these fools get?"

He sighed, "As much as I agree with you, we don't have time for idle chatter. We need to secure the blade and move it to a safer location. On your feet now, keykeeper."

Shaking your head in disbelief, you hurriedly gathered all the keys that held access to every corner of the palace, following him as you both navigated a secret passageway leading to the King's treasury.

Just for now, you had to set aside your disdain for Mingi. Despite being longtime rivals in your respective roles – him holding the highest position among male palace staff and you, his female counterpart – the urgency of the situation demanded cooperation. While he focused on the palace's security, your responsibility lay in safeguarding all the keys.

You did your best to remain civil, but his incessant commands were testing you, "Could you move a bit more quietly? It's almost as if you're trying to tell the whole world where we are." He hissed, shooting a frustrated glare in your direction.

Suppressing the urge to retaliate physically, you scoffed, well aware that engaging in a physical confrontation would be futile given his status as the strongest guard in the entire palace, "If my presence is such a burden, why not assign someone else to guard me? You could be safeguarding the King himself, but no, here you are..."

He halted suddenly, causing you to collide into his back with a yelp, "Hey! Why'd you—" Your words were cut short as he turned around, casting you an intimidating gaze, "Wishing the general was here with you, huh? Dream on; he's happily married."

Your jaw hung open at his victorious smirk as he continued on his way. Battling the surge of embarrassment, you reminded yourself that your crush on the renowned general was merely a passing infatuation. After all, he was currently deployed in the war zone, accompanied by his devoted wife.

How dare Mingi bring up that old crush? It was just innocent admiration, and you certainly weren't the only one captivated by the formidable military leader.

Before you could reprimand him for his unprofessionalism, the unexpected attack unfolded. It all happened in the blink of an eye; the only memory etched in your mind was him swiftly wrapping a protective arm around you, turning you away just as he jolted from the impact of an arrow piercing his back.

Now, tears streaming down your face, you fought the urge to run back to him. The sight of him being hurt affected you more than you had anticipated. You never knew you would ever be capable of feeling this way for him, considering how you were constantly at each other's throats for as long as you could remember.

He always found a way to get on your nerves, and you couldn't stand the sight of him. So, it bewildered you why your chest now throbbed with worry for him. Perhaps, in the face of his sacrifice, you realised that there was more to your daily banter than met the eye.

If only you knew how much jealousy flowed through the royal guard's veins whenever he thought about your stupid crush on the general, how much he enjoyed watching the fire in your eyes during your endless silly exchanges, and how much it scared him to think about the danger you were in when he found out about the pirates.

Yes, he could have assigned someone else to protect you, but he didn't trust anyone to keep you safe. The mere thought of anything bad happening to you before you were aware of his affection haunted him. He couldn't fathom forgiving himself for such a failure.

When he saw the genuine concern you displayed for him, a glimmer of hope kindled within him. Perhaps, hidden beneath the surface, you felt the same.

Before reaching you, Mingi made sure to eliminate every single trespasser; he would die before allowing any of these imbeciles near you. A sigh of relief escaped him as he recognised that these were merely amateur pirates; the situation might have taken a perilous turn if the notorious pirate king had been involved. Fortunately, the captain wasn't foolish enough to attempt robbing royalty.

"Hey, it's safe now. You're safe."

Springing up from your crouched position, you dropped the keys in your hands without a second thought, rushing to throw your arms around the royal guard's neck as soon as he entered the treasury. He held you close and wondered if you could sense the rapid beating of his heart.

You sobbed miserably against his shoulder, "You idiot, you could've died out there!"

He chuckled, feeling his heart melt at your worry, "Why? Would you miss me if I was gone?" The question left you momentarily silent, prompting you to pull away slightly and face him.

"I..." You blinked rapidly, attempting to change the topic, "H-how's your injury?"

Dismissing your concern, he shook his head, holding you firmly when you tried to check his back, "I told you I'm fine; my armour shielded me. I'm not hit directly."

"But still—"

Cupping your face with both hands, he made you look at him, "Stop pushing me away! I'm in love with you, okay?" Your movements stilled, and he reached to wipe away the tears you shed for him.

Frowning, you protested, "That's a lie... if you were, why'd you annoy me all the time?"

He broke into a smile, "I thought it'd be the only way to get your attention."

You scoffed, "Well, that's just stupid."

He grinned, retorting, "But it worked, didn't it? You can't fool me; I know you care about me too."

Left speechless, you felt your heart race when he leaned closer. Your breath hitched as your noses touched, and he whispered, "I was afraid of losing you."

You nodded in defeat, finally admitting, "Me too, Mingi. Me too."

That was all the confirmation he needed. Without hesitation, he finally kissed you, just as he had wanted to for so long.

While you were engulfed in each other's embrace, some of the royal guards arrived just in time to catch both of you in a flustered state, grinning knowingly. Unbeknownst to you, the entire palace staff had been placing bets on the two of you all along. It appeared that everyone would have a lot to celebrate soon.

✨ Bonus ✨

"You know, you may be the keeper of all palace keys, but I'm the only one with the key to your heart."

"Oh, shut up, Mingi."

Aaaand that's a wrap! Hope the final part's decent! Also, damn, Mingi's been wrecking me lately like what the actual frick. Man definitely knows what he's doing to us.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading every part of this series! Do let me know which member's part is your favourite! Don't be shy, I'd love to hear all about it!🤭

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #song mingi #ateez mingi #mingi x you #mingi x reader #ateez fic #mingi drabble #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #mingi imagines

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thisapplepielife · 1 month

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Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up Spring challenge.

Sprung

Prompt: Spring | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Future Fic, Established Relationship, Struggling to Make Ends Meet, Light Angst, Sacrifice, Love, Making a Life Together

"Steve, please," Eddie says, and Steve stills.

"I thought you were asleep?" Steve whispers in the dark, and Eddie's not sure why Steve's trying to be quiet at this point. They're both awake now. Steve's made sure of that.

"I was," Eddie huffs out, annoyed, because he had been. But Steve's constant flopping around has ruined that. Steve's become the world's shittest sleeper lately, and that's not exactly ideal in a bed partner.

"Sorry," Steve says, stilling, "I'll try to stop moving around."

Eddie just mutters something that he hopes passes as a thanks, and rolls back over. He has to get up at six, and he fucking needs his four hours. That's not too much to ask for, goddamnit.

Steve's still for a few minutes, but then rolls over in his sleep, again, and the whole bed shifts and shakes. Again. Eddie's had enough, and snags his pillow off the bed, padding down the hallway to crash on the couch. He's exhausted. He can't do this tonight. He can't.

He still wakes up tired, because it was too cold in the living room. Their shitty radiators either don't work, or boil you. No middle ground. Fucking shithole. But it's the best they can do for now, since they're barely keeping their heads above water, as is. Working just to live. It's been hard. Harder than Eddie expected, and he grew up with fucking hard.

He'd hoped they'd be past that now, hoped he'd finally catch a goddamn break.

Of course not.

It's the Munson curse.

And now Eddie's in a bad mood, even as Steve's pouring coffee into Wayne's old thermos for him, packing Eddie's metal lunchbox, to keep him going on the jobsite all day.

"Thanks," Eddie says, taking it, and Steve just nods silently, clearly aware Eddie's in a mood this morning.

Eddie worries they're circling the drain, from circumstances alone. It's not a love problem, it's a life problem, and that makes it worse.

And before long, Eddie realizes he broke the seal, having introduced a new wedge between them. Now that the couch is in play, they aren't even sleeping in the same bed most nights anymore. Steve will go, or he will, and now they're sleeping apart more nights a week than they sleep together. Maybe they're getting more rest, but they're also growing even further apart.

Today, Eddie's coffee and lunch are on the counter, but Steve's already in the shower, and their ten minutes together in the morning are gone.

Just like that.

Eddie grabs his work boots from the closet, flopping down on Steve's side of the bed to put them on, and he's suddenly assaulted, poked right in the ass by whatever Steve's left laying on the mattress.

Standing up, he's sliding his hand over the bed in the dark to see what the fuck he sat on. Nothing. He yanks the sheets back, and there's still nothing, so he strips it further.

It's a spring.

And it's threatening to fully poke through, probably right where Steve's back rests. Goddammit. No wonder Steve can't fucking hold still at night. He's being tortured, Eddie thinks, as he presses his hand against the spring, feeling it bite into his hand.

A rogue mattress spring.

That's what's divided them, broke them down.

Eddie sits back down, lets the spring dig into his ass, and holds his head in hands. He's not gonna cry. He doesn't have time. He has to go to work. But goddamn this.

He's still sitting there when Steve comes in and is rifling through the closet, "You okay?"

"No," Eddie says.

Steve walks over and puts the back of his hand on Eddie's forehead and Eddie laughs, wetly.

"You don't feel hot," Steve declares.

"No, I don't," Eddie mutters, because damn, he fucking doesn't feel hot at all. He feels broken down and worn out.

He reaches up and catches Steve's hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing it.

"I'm sorry about the mattress. I didn't know," Eddie says, looking up at him.

"It's okay, I'm used to it," Steve says, and he rubs his fingers against the top of Eddie's head.

"You shouldn't have to be," Eddie says, dejected.

Steve Harrington chose him, loves him, and Eddie can't even give him a bed to sleep on that isn't trying to pierce his spleen every night.

They can't afford a new one, not right now, and Eddie hates that he can't fix this.

"We'll flip it," Eddie offers.

"Then it'll have the crater on your side again," Steve says with a laugh. And yeah, Eddie'd forgotten they flipped it last year, after his side started breaking down. Sucking him inward, like a gate into the Upside Down.

That doesn't matter.

"Well, that's gotta be better than this," Eddie admits, bouncing a little. Anything would be better than this torture device.

Steve kneels between Eddie's open thighs, "It's okay, Eddie."

It's not.

"I'm sorry I was being a jerk. I didn't know," Eddie says.

"I know you didn't," Steve answers, "I didn't want you to worry."

Eddie brushes Steve's hair off his forehead, "I'm still sorry. I love you. You know that, right?"

Steve grins, and it's blinding, "Always. Work now, worry about the mattress later."

Eddie nods, smiles, and when Steve moves from between his knees, Eddie leans over and laces up his boots. Ready to start another day.

That evening, when Eddie pulls into the driveway, Wayne's truck is parked behind Steve's car. Eddie hadn't realized Wayne was coming, and grins. This day just got way better.

Eddie plows into the house, and finds Steve in the bedroom, a pair of needle nose pliers dug into a small hole they've cut in the mattress, trying to bend the spring back into its original position. Wayne's standing there, talking Steve through the temporary fix, until they can afford something better.

It's gonna be okay, Eddie realizes. They're just a little bent out of shape right now. A little sprung.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

#steddieholidaydrabbles #spring #steddie #steddie ficlet #wayne munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #future fic #good uncle wayne munson #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles

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eustasskidagenda · 6 months

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Hiiii

Could you maybe write a scenario where reader gets super drunk and Kid takes care of them. I think he’d seem mad but actually be really sweet

Thank you!!

Hello, dear anon! Thank you for your request. I'm always happy to write with Kid and I had a lot of fun with this one! Hope it meets your expectations.

☆Kid (trying) to take care of a drunk s/o

CW : alcohol, cursing, vomiting, and mentions of sex, fun, fluff, g/n reader

WC: around 1,300

Your whole world is completely blurred. How many beers have you consumed since the beginning of the evening? Too much, you even lose the count. You just get carried away by the happy mess created by your fellow mates. From far, the Victoria Punk crew might seem scary, weird, or even rude, but it's like a big family of marginalized people and you love cheering with them. But now, you feel really drunk. Way, way too much alcohol in your system, you’re totally intoxicated.

"One more," you mutter under your breath, slurring all your words. Heat is on his way to bring you another cup of alcohol when a large manicured hand falls on the table brutally. "No fucking more, you moron." You try to frown but you're way too drunk, so you just fail miserably and start laughing, trying to grab the beer. "Come on Kid, don't ruin the fun." You're forced to scream because the punk music inside the bar is way too loud. "You're so weak, how can you get so drunk with a few beers?" He mumbles, glancing angrily at Wire and Heat. They were supposed to take care of you, but now you're so drunk that you struggle to keep your eyes open and laugh stupidly at Kid. The way he looks annoyed is amusing. Or maybe it's just the alcohol running through your vein that makes everything funny. Your eyes are wet with alcohol and your cheeks are completely red. You’re in a good mood. The music is great and you're with your friends. Kid is just killing the fun, as always.

"Come on babe, just join us." You say, showing the place next to you. Kid growls, takes the tankard away from you, and grabs your chins, trying to cross your gaze. "Tomorrow, don't fucking cry because of your hangover, you did that to yourself. Now, we go back to the Victoria Punk, the party is over for you." You just giggle because he looks funny with that angry expression on his face. It's like seeing a tulip almost exploding. "I'm not kidding, y/n"

You pout with wet puppy eyes. Kid growls. "I won't change my mind", he snarls. Yes, maybe you look cute with that expression on your face, but nothing can change Kid's mind. He's way too stubborn and right now, he's mad at you. Even if you were with Heat and Wire, something could happen. And if someone hurt you, he would never forgive himself.

"Move your ass, y/n." You don't move and laugh heartily, the music pulsating inside your head. The guitar and beats are both excellent. Trying to follow the music's rhythm, you move your head, but you're too drunk and end up vomiting on the table and the floor. Kid reacts quickly by grabbing your hair and taking it away from your face. He's muttering curses under his breath. "Goddamn!" He hands you a napkin he just stole to Heat and wipes your mouth. Afterwards, he offers you a glass of iced water. "Drink." You are too dizzy to think anymore, so you accept his help and swallow all the cold water, sighing of relief. "Can you stand up?" Kid asks, throwing the dirty napkin on Heat's face. It's his punishment for letting you drink too much.

You try to stand up and fail miserably, but before your body hits the ground, Kid's strong arms are around your waist. Even though he's mumbling and growling, he still looks sweet right now. You nuzzle your head against his bare chest, he growls, cheeks as red as his hair, but he lets you use his chest as a pillow and carry you outside the bar. His heart beats quickly against your head, and you can feel it. That sound is something you love, it's like a lullaby. Often, you're worried for your dear captain, he's way too cocky and one day, it might cost him his life. You are terrified by that thought.

Outside, the air is cold and fresh. You inhale the night air deeply. Yes. Better than a mixture of sweat and alcohol. "You're not cold?" Kid is an hot-headed, and even his body is always warm and hot. So you shake your head. "I feel sick," you complain. "Don't you dare vomiting on me or I throw you to the sea." He's so unserious you can only laugh. Playfully, you start to kiss his neck, pinching his nipple, before fondling his chest. "Honk honk" You giggle and press his toned muscles repeatedly. "What the hell, you're a fucking child…" He just sighs, too tired to fight back and honestly a bit flustered. You look absolutely idiotic and yet, you're so adorable, laughing heartily while playing with his chest.

Once you finally reach the Victoria Punk, Kid just stomps through the ship and gets to your shared bedroom, throwing you on the bed. You whine, half asleep and half sick. The headache is starting to reverberate in your head and your world is completely blurred. Yes, maybe you drank too much tonight. "Get changed," he commands before leaving the room. You can hear him mumbling something like, 'How the fuck am I supposed to deal with someone who's drunk, that's Killer responsability"

You laugh. He's trying his hardest.

You try to untie your shoes but end up failing miserably on the ground. So when Kid comes back with some water and pills, he honestly wants to facepalm. You look like a stranded seal. First, he drops off his stuff on the nightstand and then sits you at the edge of the bed. "You're better off forgetting everything about tomorrow," he growls before kneeling down and removing your shoes. Kid only kneels for one thing, that thing that makes you shiver and leaves you both exausted and satisfied. So, this situation is completely unexpected and you can't help but smile, intoxicated by all the alcohol you drank earlier. "Kid is kneeling in front of me, Heat and Killer will never believe me!"

He snarls 'Shut up,' completely embarrassed, before standing up. He unbuttons your shirt, takes off your pants, and leaves you with your underwear. His eyes can't help but take a look at your beautiful body. He just loves every single detail about you. Oh, he would love to run his callused hands on your skin, driving you to new heights. But right now, you're too drunk. If you vomit on his face while he's fucking you, it will remain in his mind forever. More important, you're wasted and your mind is too dizzy. He'll wait. So he just gives you the water and pills and watches closely until you swallow everything.

"Now, just sleep and stop annoying the hell out of me." He pulls the blanket over your nose and places his hand on your forehead. You grasp his wrist. "Stay with me."

Heavy sigh. "Of course I stay, dummy. I won't sleep on the ground just because you're feeling sick, that’s my bed too" Sleepy, drunk, dizzy, you struggle to keep your eyes open. Kid's lips touch your forehead, and you're unsure if you're dreaming or not. You heard a soft whisper of 'you're a fool but I love you, sleep well' Did he actually say that? Ain't no way, you must already dream.

And then.

blank

out.

When you wake up hours after, with the worst hangover you have ever had. You laboriously sit on the bed. Kid has already left the room. Maybe yesterday was just a dream created by your intoxicated mind. On the nightstand, there's a fresh glass of water with pills. You grab the mirror that Kid made for you, made of metal, for sure. Immediately, you notice the red lipstick that has been smeared on your forehead.

So, it wasn't a dream.

#one piece headcanons #eustass kid x reader #one piece x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid #one piece requests #one piece x you #eustass captain kidd #kidd x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid imagine #eustasscaptainkid #eustass x reader #one piece x y/n

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loveydovey-leviathan · 5 months

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(hi im the one that asked abt teen!reader) thanks for ur answer !! :D i’m 17 myself so i didn’t intend to send in anyth w a younger reader haha ^^

my req was that i wanted to ask for hcs w the cast abt how they’d react to (teen) reader fawning over their crush (from the human world LOL), it’s platonic either way so i’m not sure if adding teen here makes a difference.. 🤔

obey me x gn! teen! reader

a/n: -> written as platonic. had a lot of fun doing this request! i feel like the core difference when adding teen to the mix instead of an implied adult reader is that the bros would definitely be more protective. if mc/reader is an adult who has a crush on some random human, then they wouldn't be as scrutinizing of them.

cw: ooc. brothers only (minus satan). a lot of repeating words and sentences

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑:

He jokes about seeing his little siblings as babies still, but there is definitely an element of truth to them.

When he first finds out about your little crush, he kind of just shrugs it off. It's normal for people to develop little crushes every now and again.

But he starts getting slightly irritated when he hears you fawning. Despite that, he makes sure to listen to you.

If he worries that it might be getting serious, he makes sure to give you a lecture about what you deserve talk to you.

He isn't going to stop you from having a crush but if he thinks they're not good for you, you'll be hearing from him a lot lol.

If they hurt you in some way, they will be facing... certain repercussions.

If you want to visit them, he is not the brother you should ask because he'll most likely say no unless it's a really dire emergency.

Overall, pretty chill considering how overprotective he is as long as he deems them worthy of someone he cares about.

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍:

He's freaking out.

Definitely the brother who spoils and makes time to hang out with you the most, so when he hears about your crush, he becomes a goddamn investigator.

Keeps asking questions about what they like, what they do in their free time, how much you like them. Once he's finished with the interrogation, he side-eyes you like you just told him you loved rainbow pizza (he finds that shit disgusting).

He's so annoying about your crush, I'm sorry. Whenever you bring them up in a conversation, he makes sure to complain and roll his eyes.

If you want to visit them, he's your go-to big bro. It does not take a lot of convincing to make him teleport you to a hang-out.

But even if he is a little shit about it, he still makes sure to listen carefully when you talk about them and reminds you that they "better be treatin' you right".

𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍:

Him and Asmo are the best to talk to about your crush. They WILL listen no matter what.

As long as you listen about his crushes, he's more than happy to listen about yours.

If you're crush is someone you can hang out with and not like a celebrity crush, he lowkey gets kinda jealous 'cuz all of his crushes are either fictional or really popular, so he doesn't get to do that not like he would have the guts to anyway.

Will not put in the effort to help you in visiting them, but he will buy a bunch of equipment so you can talk to them through facetime and gaming (it comes with a pretty heavy price though).

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒:

He's so happy that you have someone to like in that way <3

Your talks last for literal hours into the night. If you're into make-up, nail art or skin care, he'll definitely help you when the two of you gossip.

He has the juiciest details in his relationships and will tell you almost everything, but he won't push you to do the same.

As much as he likes to have fun, he probably gives the most solid advice and encourages you to go for it the most out of the rest of his brothers.

He won't help you visit the human world though. Too much work.

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁:

Is the most nonchalant about the whole thing.

As long as you give him something to eat, he'll listen to you simp.

Isn't really interested in your crush but he makes note of the important things like how they treat you and what they like just in case he meets them.

If they hurt you, he won't do anything rash because he doesn't want to embarrass you, but he'll push you to try and let go.

If he thinks they're nice, he won't really mention asking them out officially and just reckons you'll do it in your own time.

Doesn't give much input and mostly quietly listens, other than a few nods, hums, burps and growls here and there.

He'll help you visit the human world if you give him the right food. If it's not good enough, he won't do much and deems it too much trouble. Lucifer might put him on dinner duty and force him to not "taste-test" the food.

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑:

He is the worst listener of all. He does not care in the slightest.

Any time you rant to him about the person you like, he will fall asleep in 2 minutes flat.

The only time he'll put effort into anything that has to do with your crush is when they make you sad. He's lazy as shit but it's for you so he'll attempt to make your crush's life a very big minor inconvenience for a few days as revenge. He'll also try to convince you to join him btw.

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grahminradarin · 1 month

Text

SPOP And Queer Joy Tw for transphobia, the Daily Wire, and getting kicked in the nuts

I was watching the most recent video from Some More News about a deeply stupid and bad and transphobic film from the daily wire called Ladyballers, and there was a scene they talked about where one of the main characters who was a guy that has been disguised as a woman for a couple weeks in order to win a woman's basketball tournament realizes he might actually be trans, and confesses this to the basketball coach who is his old friend and came up with the idea. The basketball coach then tells the trans character that she doesn't understand her own feelings and that the coach will help her figure it out. When she continues to insist that she's a trans woman, the coach kicks her in the nuts. And this made me realize the whole conservative mindset is based on an authority figure convincing people under them that they don't understand their own feelings and they don't know who they are, but the authority figure does. And the point of it all is to make someone never trust themselves or their own feelings ever.

And then I thought of the ending of She-Ra.

And I finally get why it felt so right and so triumphant and so different. Catra and Adora have been living with Shadow Weaver their whole lives, and Shadow Weaver has constantly been telling them who they're supposed to be, and it hurts both of them so much over the course of the series because Adora keeps trying to fit herself into that mold better (is helped in this endeavor by light hope) while catra is trying to break out of her mold to put herself in Adora's as the golden child

And then hoard Prime shows up as the ultimate example of an authority figure insisting that you don't understand yourself with the chips, which are literally a direct physical implementation of that idea!

And in what both of them think are their final moments alive, they kill the shadow Weaver in their heads, trust themselves to know who they are, and do what they've wanted to do the whole time. Catra stops trying to prove herself and admits that she cares and wants to just be enough without having to try. She stops caring about whether she's weak and says she loves someone. Adora stops trying to be the self-sacrificing hero and acknowledges that she can care about other people differently than just having to save them and she finally takes something she wants without worrying about the consequences.

They both say "screw authority, I know who I am and I'm going to let that out" because they both think they're about to die. And that one tiny moment of rebellion and understanding saves the entire goddamn universe. It terrifies Prime to the point that he can't even comprehend what's happened, and then it obliterates him and frees everyone he's ever hurt. It fixes everything

That one moment of queer Joy, even at the very end of the world, is all that it took.

#SPOP #she ra meta #she ra #SPOP meta #SPOP analysis #She-ra analysis

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lemonflavoreddishsoap · 4 months

Note

Hi, may I please for headcanons for la squadra with a gn s/o who often gets mistaken for a prince/ss cause they're fairytale attractive

POV you get kicked out of La Squadra cuz your Disney Prince(ss) ass keeps attracting BIRDS.

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La Squadra with an S/O who gets mistaken as a Prince/Princess

Formaggio

He loves whenever people stop and compliment you, or are absolutely dumbfounded from how pretty/handsome you are. He, probably more than anyone, is aware of just how ethereal you are, and he loves to have the whole world acknowledge it.

If a little kid were to toddle over to you two and asks you directly if you're royalty, due to your beauty, he stands to the side with an amused smile as you explain to the kid that unfortunately you are not!

But as the kid walks away, a tad bit dejected at not meeting a real-life prince/princess, he parts from your side to go crouch next to the little one and talk to them. You don't hear it, but he's sharing a "little secret"...you actually are royalty. He chuckles at the sparkle in the kid's eyes, and the two make a pinky promise to not reveal your "secret to the world" before he catches back up with you.

"What was that all about, Formaggio?" "Oh, don't worry about it."

You find yourself getting called a new petname after that event <3

Illuso

The two of you are BOTH fawned over equally. If you're more on the fem side, the two of you are giving random strangers bisexual awakenings.

And he eats it right up. He's in love with both the attention to himself and the attention to his beloved. Like fuck yes you're also beautiful, it's amazing everyone can see that.

If anyone is to mistake either/both of you as royalty, he'll be perfectly fine with informing them otherwise; more than fine, actually. Why? Well, it's the perfect opportunity to fish for compliments from anyone possible!

"Royalty? Pssh, not at all. You really think so?" "Oh, well I didn't think my face shape was that impressive, y'know..." "MY partner? a prince(ss)? Well yeah, they are quite beautiful, aren't they?"

If you join him in the compliment-fishing he just falls further in love.

Prosciutto

The two of you are ALSO the most gorgeous couple around. Compliments towards your individual and combined beauty are constant because godDAMN.

Pesci is the first one to compare the two of you royalty, and at the time Prosciutto just shrugs it off. Not that he doesn't appreciate his teammate's kindness, it's just that with Pesci it's kind of expected. Feel free to thank him, though - honestly it makes your lover smile a bit to see you get along with his mentee.

It's when some old lady stops you two to sincerely gush over how incredible you two look together that you get reactions. First and foremost, a tightening of his hand around yours.

"Very kind of you, miss. I'm so very lucky to give my life to this perfect individual."

While he's clearly happy with interactions like that, it's when you make the comparisons to one another that he really lets his face grow warm.

Pesci

His heart flutters every time someone is stunned by how attractive you are. He sees himself in their pink cheeks and wide eyes, he knows exactly how they must be feeling. How can someone so beautiful exist?? He sure was still trying to figure that out.

He's just as flustered as you when people call you as pretty as a prince(ss), and he stays quiet, letting you respond to the person. In all honesty, people don't often assume you two are dating at first, but if you bring it up, he is often congratulated for scoring on a lovely fellow/lady. Just think of his smile <333 AUGH

Pesci wants you to be completely aware that he doesn't just love you for your appearance, and he loves everything about you, but...

"...They are right, you're so beautiful!"

He thinks calling you prince/princess is quite fitting, and will definitely ask you if he can start doing so!

Melone

He keeps his mouth shut and watches every interaction: how immediately captivated and smitten every person is, what exactly they compliment, and how you react to each glowing word, whether it be with a flushed face and lost composure or if you smirk and take it all easily.

It's not that he's being creepy or possessive (probably), he just respects that the moment is entirely about you. You and your effortless charm. He just wants to take it all in himself.

But when some wide-eyed young lady likens you to a prince/princess he can't help but grin - you see the same look in his eyes as when he's solving something on his laptop. The result of his calculations? Ah, yep, it's true. You are royally gorgeous.

"What a smart girl. I never connected the words myself but...a prince(ss)? I'd be willing to believe so."

The interaction isn't really brought up between you two beyond that day. However, if there's anything you know about Melone, it's that he's hard to read. For all you know, he could be thinking about it every time he looks at you.

Ghiaccio

His immediate reaction is to wonder out loud how being beautiful automatically connects to royalty. He'll drop it for a second if you ask him too, but when it's just the two of you he'll bring it up again. Really though, can "peasants" not be attractive? What the fuck!?

You have to explain the compliment directed at you to him, but you know what he's like, you pretty much signed up for this. Luckily it doesn't take him long to understand. He agrees, one hundred percent, that you're so incredible that you seem like a fantasy sometimes, so he gives it to you straight how gorgeous you are.

But...it's weird. Something like this usually wouldn't bug him but he can't shake the buzz of feeling bad. He tries not to feel self conscious about his anger, but of all the things to throw a fit over, it happened to be a major compliment to you. He tries to remedy it later that night.

"You are attractive. Most attractive motherfucker in the goddamn world, and hell if that means you're a fucking prince/princess then I guess I have to agree with it. Please never let my temper make you believe I don't love you endlessly."

Good god how you jumble his brain /pos

Risotto

You plague the abstract thoughts of his mind. Every fuzzy visual in his non-terror dreams feel like optical illusions that lead to your face, and the pulses of colour he sees behind his eyelids seem to always be in the hues that remind him of you. In short, he thinks of you a lot. Maybe more than he should.

So when he watches strangers and even some friends praise your appearance, and the comparisons to fantasy and royalty begin, he chews the back of his lip. You, a prince(ss)...he can practically feel his mind begin to run. Something doesn't feel right. He knows the intention of it, but in his mind you're something stronger than that, you're a king. Queen if you prefer.

You rule over his mind, he thinks. You're the foundation of his hope and comfort, but also his fear. Secure in his arms, half asleep and curling into his embrace, you're driving him insane and you aren't even trying. Your mental grip on his challenges his physical grip as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

"My queen/king, I love you."

...Yes, yes, you are the most beautiful thing in the world.

#IM SORRY THAT I KINDA. CALLED SOME CHARACTERS PRETTIER THAN OTHERS HERE LMAO #like ghiaccio is my fave but i HAVE to admit Pros and Illuso are pretty #pesci #prosciutto #jjba headcanons #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #ghiaccio x reader #risotto #risotto x reader #formaggio x reader #illuso x reader #prosciutto x reader #pesci x reader #melone x reader #jjba x reader #jjba #the more i write for this blog the more apparent i think it becomes that i want to hug and compliment pesci for days #not even necessarily romanticaly #just in general #sorry that ghiaccio's is like. weirdly specific. idk its just how i made his work #risotto's may seem kinda odd too but i wrote his with NO ideas and so #went kinda nuts #and also The Real World by Owl City was playing which definitely was an influence #maybe ill discuss how i use music to help me write. if anyones interested. its nothing complicated or cool #la squadra #la squadra x reader

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ifangirlalot · 3 months

Text

she's my collar | zee's request form

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮ *𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒* ╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

𑁍‎♡··································································································································

༻❝ angst ❞༺ 1.) "That's not what I meant, and you know it." 2.) "You told me not to worry about him/her." 3.) "I never said I loved you." 4.) "I didn't want to believe them, because you were supposed to be different! But… They were right. They were so fucking right about you." 5.) "I hate that my bed still smells like you." 6.) "You should have been here, goddamn it!" 7.) "Until death do us part, huh?" 8.) "I loved you, I really did." 9.) "You changed a lot." 10.) "I wish we never met."

༻❝ jealousy ❞༺ 1.) "No way.. you're actually jealous." 2.) "Oh come on. You and I both knew what he/she was doing." 3.) (While laughing) "Oh my god, I've never seen you so mad before." 4.) (Forcefully) "Kiss me." "Sorry, what?" 5.) "I thought we were supposed to stay a little longer.. Why are we leaving?" 6.) "What the fuck was that?" 7.) "I didn't know you were the jealous type." 8.) "He/she looked at you funny.." 9.) "Do you ever ask why I get this way? Maybe it's because- y'know what, nevermind.." 10.) "You don't do that with me.."

𑁍‎♡············��·····················································································································

༻❝ smut ❞༺ 1.) "You're not, uh.. You're not wearing anything under that… are you.." 2.) "Wow, I didn't realize you were so.. flexible.." 3.) "I'm gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever even met that asshole." 4.) "Are you trying to turn me on right now or are you just really oblivious?" 5.) "You better shut that pretty little mouth before I put it to work, doll." 6.) "FUCK, why do you taste like fucking candy?" 7.) "I know they're just stuffed animals, but it kinda feels like they're watching us." 8.) "Baby, I know for a fact you're not new to using the shower head. Now do it right." 9.) "We've been at it like rabbits! How are you still so horny?!" 10.) "Your ass is gonna be seven shades of red after that little stunt."

༻❝ protective ❞༺ 1.) "Don't you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head." 2.) "Hands off!" 3.) "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 4.) "Don't you ever leave my sight again!" 5.) "Be more careful next time. I don't want to bandage you up again." 6.) "Hey, it's cold outside. At least wear a jacket, okay?" 7.) "No, don't do that. It's not safe." 8.) "I can't sleep not knowing where you are." 9.) "What happened? I thought I told you to stay by my side!" 10.) "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

༻❝ fluff ❞༺ 1.) "What? You looked cold." 2.) "You talk in your sleep… you love me?" 3.) "Can we stay like this a little longer?" 4.) "Is that my shirt, babe?" 5.) "Can I play with your hair?" 6.) "You don't have to ask to kiss me, silly!" 7.) "I don't deserve you. I don't deserve any of this." 8.) "You mean the whole fucking world to me, do you know that?" 9.) "Have you ever seen something prettier than this?" "Yeah, you." 10.) "I genuinely don't know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I'm going a little crazy."

╭──────༺♡༻──────╮ *𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒* ╰──────༺♡༻──────╯

༻❝ cans ❞༺ 1.) You CAN request with more than one line of dialogue! (Up to 4) 2.) You CAN request for more than one character. (You'll have to specify if it is meant to be a preference sort of thing or if you want a poly.) 3.) You CAN request a character x male reader! 4.) You CAN request AU headcanons! 5.) You CAN request a plot using one of these lines of dialogue!

༻❝ cannots ❞༺ 1.) You CANNOT request using abuse, sexual assault, rape (I can do non-con and dub-con, but I will never agree to full out rape), or self harm. 2.) You CANNOT spam my inbox if I don't get to your request right away.

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*~REQUESTS ARE RE-OPENED~* [i had to clear out my inbox again, i deeply apologize. i figured it would be easier to have a format for requests so i can get to all of them, thank you for your patience and understanding.]

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findafight · 1 year

Text

Not me writing a prologue for a fic I'll maybe never write about Steve being on the Dream Team lmao. I saw a pro basketball player Steve post a while ago and couldn't stop thinking about it. Anyways-

At the end of March Madness in 1989, the scout for the Pacers has lunch with the head coach of a community college basketball team that somehow made it to the first round before being pulverized. They sit across from each other, the coach seemingly a bit overwhelmed but not outright surprised. That's good, it means Jerry, the scout, doesn't have to worry about him freaking out or babbling too much.

The team captain had caught his, and possibly others', eye. Good layups, a few three pointers, solid defence, and a helluva lot of potential add up to someone to keep an eye on, except they can't because the guy plays for a rinky-dink community college and only had one televised game. The only reason Jerry saw the kid is because the Roane County Community College Ospreys had put in a hell of a fight the past three seasons. Jerry wonders why the hell the kid hadn't been offered a scholarship somewhere...not Roane County. Doesn't matter though, because they're here now.

"so. You wanted to talk about Steve?" Says the coach, August Nearaly, a bit weary.

Jerry nods, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. Wanted to get a sense of him before I actually talked to him."

August sighs. "As a player or as a person?"

Raising his eyebrows. "Is he that different off the court?"

"no! No, not like how you probably think. Harrington's a sweet kid, but also incredibly...well, not weird, but. Peculiar? He's got quirks. Bit paranoid, but not in a conspiracy way. In a 'no one should walk home alone in the dark' or 'hey, where'd John go? He was right here and then I did a headcount and he's not?' kinda way. Y'know? Like, they're all adults, but he does headcounts and worries anyways."

"huh. Oookay?"

"it-- I'm not saying this to rag on him, to be clear. It just too a while to get used to. Honestly, it's been good for team building. Makes them think of each other not as individuals, but part of a unit that needs everyone healthy and whole to work."

"that's good. He's a team player."

"oh yeah. It's not surprising, really. He's from Hawkins." August says the name like Jerry should know what that means. It's a town, sure, but other than that... Jerry's at a loss. Maybe something a few years ago about a fire? "He has most assists in Osprey history. Some of the guys joke that he's allergic to the ball."

"He's good on the court?"

"Jerry. I know you're here because you saw the March Madness game. You know he's good. He'd be even better if he could afford those fancy prescription goggles Horace Grant wears."

"seriously? Why not contacts?"

"don't make them for his prescription. You didn't see his interview? Kid's got thick horn rimmed glasses. Too many concussions apparently. God knows how he tells players apart when the jersey colours are similar."

"shit. That's why he was squinting the whole time? I thought he was just stressed."

He shrugged. "eh. Probably a bit of both. He takes it seriously, but not too seriously. Y'know? Half the guys were shitting themselves from nerves and Harrington stands up in the locker room, hands on his hips, and gives a speech worthy of the most melodramatic underdog sports movie."

Jerry laughs. "No shit."

Waving his hands, August nods. "no shit! He says all this stuff like 'we worked hard...we deserve this...we may not win but let's do our damn best. The worst that could happen is we lose, and that isn't the end of the world. So let's go out there and play some basketball!' or something, his was better, and the boys cheer. Then they put in fifty points to one-thirty."

Jerry winces. "Must have hurt, huh?"

August grins. "No way. One of the best games they ever played. You saw it. You wouldn't be here if you hadn't. They played their goddamn hearts out." He leans forward. "My boys don't have the same facilities as the big universities, or the funding to offer scholarships. They're at Roane Community because they want a degree or certificate but have other responsibilities. Parents or siblings to stay close to, jobs to work, people to take care of. They joined my team because they like playing basketball, loved the game and wanted to spend some of their precious time playing it. They put the work in on the court and off it. And we made it to the NCAA tournament because of it. We put in fifty points against the goddamn Michigan Wolverines! The champs! And they knew that. I've never heard of a locker room after an 80 point defeat so happy."

"seriously?"

It's all pride when Coach Nearaly says "yep. They may not be the best basketball players in college, but my god, they're probably the best team."

"because of Harrington?"

"partly. They all contribute, make sure they do things right. It's not a one man show, that's the point. They rally around him, but they all are part of the team, and know it. That's what Steve makes sure. Why I made him captain."

"So, you think he'd be a good pick for the Pacers?" This is, after all, a business meeting.

August nods, picks at his pancakes. "I'll be honest with you Jerry. You're not the first scout to talk to me about Steve."

"really? Who?"

"you know I won't say. But, between me and you, Steve's Indiana born and bred. His wife's planning on getting some lib Arts degree in Chicago or Indy, and your offer might be the deciding factor for them."

Jerry blinks. "He's married? At, what? Twenty-one?"

August nods. "Just turned twenty-two. High school sweethearts or something. Obsessed with each other." He chuckled, a bit ruefully. "I'm a bit jaded but damn. You mention her name? He lights up like the fuckin Fourth of July."

Jerry whistles. "Honeymoon phase gets us all."

"for almost two years? Nah. It's just love." It sounds a little wistful, coming from August. "Anyways. I dunno if the other team is serious about him, and if they are, they'll probably be disappointed. Kid isn't moving out of the Midwest. He's got family here, and is getting a goddamn elementary education degree. He won't uproot his life for a chance at the NBA. But, if you offer. Well. He'd at least seriously consider it."

Humming, Jerry chews his eggs as he thinks. "You think he'd be up for the lifestyle? The road games out numbering home ones?"

There's an air of seriousness when August levels Jerry with a look. "If he doesn't want to, he'll tell you. You gotta give him time to talk to his family though. This offer? It'll come out of left field for him, even if I give him a heads up. You get that, yeah? You want to recruit a kindergarten teacher to the NBA without any build up. He needs time to process that and then see where the people in his life are at with it."

"I guess it is unusual."

"try being the community college basketball coach getting two goddamn calls from NBA scouts. Thought I was hallucinating."

Jerry laughs, counts some bills for the tip. "Thank you. For your time and insights. Let Steve know I'll call tomorrow?"

"will do. He'll still probably drob the phone on you, though."

"as long as he doesn't hang up!"

#Steve Harrington #platonic stobin #steddie #stranger things #qpr stobin #teacher steve harrington #stobin #dream team steve au #listen. famous basketball player steve is friends with lead guitarist Eddie Summons (alias to not be as connected to the who 86 thing)#steve and his friends have a very nice vacation in the summer of 92 to Barcelona.....#literally none of the characters are here its just two randos talking about steve lmao #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #also hos number is 52 because that adds up to seven hehe #sorry to the guy who actually got drafted by the pacers in 89 but i dont care #also. my experience with team sports is that one time we won handily but felt bad because we didnt play very well and we could FEEL it #and the next game we got pummeled but played so much better and could feel the team come together it was magical

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moodymisty · 5 months

Note

Alright I gotta represent for us in the Rogal Dorn Simp Nation, Misty! This idea fell directly on my head from my old history nerd childhood, we’ve got stories of queens holding down the fort and being badass while the king is away so why not let the lady of the House of Dorn and the Imperial Fists kick some ass??? Dorn’s off doing y’know crusade shit etc etc and gets a frantic vox hail from Inwit (or whatever fortress world she was on) that they’re under attack. Luckily he’s done with whatever his assignment was or has somebody he can trust and leave it to so he can flip Phalanx in reverse and hop back to make sure nothing goes wrong. Only to find his beloved commanding the standing force of guardsmen and marines, not just holding it down but WINNING. On the outside he’s his usual stoic self like “psh yes of course I wasn’t worried, I never worry, this is something I expect her to be able to handle. I am proud tho” but internally he’s like “oh no this is hot” XD. Indomitable warrior queen decked out in armor he probably commissioned for her (always gotta be prepared) making battle plans and laying the verbal smack down on any captains or commissars who are questioning the competency of somebody ROGAL GODDAMN DORN chose to be with. Yeah I think that’d do a whole lot for him 😂

Having soft moments of reflection on his humanity matched against his beloved’s is delicious of course but so is meeting him where HE’S at, seeing how loving him and learning about him would change somebody. And getting to commit some grand old grimdark 40k VIOLENCE is always fun lol

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: We are on the front lines for Wall Husband I will go down with this ship. Boring this bland that fuck everyone else we're right I'm stacking bricks around them

Summary: Stuck in a violent snowstorm on an Imperial Fist controlled planet being sieged, you take command for the first time while waiting for Dorn.

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dorn is your future husband and Alexis Polux is your battle husband it's like a work husband but much more violent, Mentions of battle and death, Typical 40kness, I think I blacked out while writing this I'm sorry

Word Count: 2566

You had known from the very beginning of your courtship that Dorn had wished for you to be a link in his chain of command.

What you hadn't expected, was for your first time in leadership to be completely alone, surrounded by no less than fifty Astartes waiting for orders, and five hundred or more Guardsmen half frozen due to the horrid weather; With a multitude of tech priests working on the various machinery and equipment.

This sun up makes it a week since the siege had began, the distant sounds of bolter fire constant. Sometimes the ground shakes from explosions, pulling dust off the cracks in the brick walls.

Walking down the east hall, you step into the large room that has been made into a sort of 'central command' to coordinate the current forces, stuffed tight with a massive holotable and various tech priests scattered around it. Some are working on fixing any malfunctioning machinery, such as the vox equipment that has had trouble maintaining a signal even on-planet through the storm.

You look around to see if anything drastic has changed in your absence. In the moment, you notice a familiar face; A commissar from the beginning of this week. He has the most command over the Guardsmen under you, having been their only superior before the invasion. Any captains or other commissars had been made to report to him, up until now. His closest in rank subordinate had been killed in an explosion on the first day, and in a morose thought, you wonder if they had been any more palatable than he is.

"Any progress hailing the Phalanx?"

He gives you a curt shake of his head, looking over the shoulder of the tech priest operating the vox equipment. Another harsh whip of wind batters against the walls, howling and shaking the glass windows. It rattles them almost just as bad as the distant explosions do.

"Nothing more than a few seconds at a time. But it should be enough of a message for them to understand the planet is under siege." The Commissar speaks short and stiff, face frozen in a neutral, stoic gaze underneath his uniform and few day old facial scruff. You cross your arms.

He's on his best behavior now, considering his disrespect shortly after you'd taken command had nearly gotten his head rent from his shoulders. He hadn't realized he was speaking to the Lady of the Imperial Fists, but the Astartes that had been in your company to deliver the news of your ascension in duty hadn't given him the leeway he might've thought he deserved. He acquiesced command of his guardsmen to you quite quickly, after that. There has been nary a squeal from him since, nor any of his fellow commissars or guard captains.

"Good. Then we will hopefully have aid soon. For now we need to push them back from the storage buildings before my men run out of bolter ammo."

Not that they can't work with just their chainswords, but long range options remain vital considering the hostile terrain you're all working with.

You hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Alexis Polux, a veritable giant of a man, is nearly unable to get through even a doorway meant for fellow Astartes; Though not of his size. His armor is packed with snow at the seams, pauldrons slick with snow melted into a sheet of ice. His thin, blonde hair is quickly becoming wet at the tips, from where snowflakes are melting in the slight heat of the room. Anywhere he walks, he leaves chunks of melting sleet right behind. It has to be almost packed a meter high at this point out there, judging where the worst of it ends on his leg armor.

"Welcome back, Captain Polux." You smile in spite of the situation. It's something that Dorn had said he found- in his own words- 'curious' about you.

He holds his helm in his hands, walking closer to you. He brushes past the Commissar with not even the slightest tilt of acknowledgement. Unsurprising. He'd been there when the man had questioned your acting in Dorn's proxy. Polux is a man of a surprisingly amount of humility and softspokenness, but he is rarely forgiving.

"The storm is getting worse."

You hear another bout of wind howl through the brick and stone, as it continues to dump more snow onto the ground. While the Astartes can traverse it without much issue, it's becoming one for the Guardsmen. They've slowed their advance significantly as the snow reaches their knees.

"Even if we do get aid, they're going to be hard pressed to get anything more than small gunship planet-side; Though it goes both ways. We're all stuck out here in this mess." You open your mouth to continue, but Polux cuts you off.

"They are not built for the cold like we are."

You look up to the massive marine who's been serving as your second in command. Perhaps it wasn't an officially given title, but he's taken it well, and you could think of no better man for it. Especially given that the other Astartes respect him- which makes your orders have less of a weight to them, given they still have a degree of unfamiliarity with you. Your hands rest on the rim of the holotable.

"Finished my sentence for me." He hums as an odd sort of apology, the humor of your response going right over his head. When you let out a soft chuff of a laugh a few guardsmen curiously look at you for a moment.

"It was a compliment, Polux." He stares, eyes flicking across your face as he loudly thinks.

He really is a Son of Dorn.

You resist the urge to smile again, and look down at the holotable. It's been quite the week, but what was once another language has now become nothing but second nature. Putting theory to practice has proved quicker and less frightening that you'd thought, a week ago.

Though you still hope Dorn returns to you soon, turning away from the holotable to receive an update from a guardsmen holding a dataslate.

If anyone had ever asked, Rogal Dorn has remained no different than the stalwart nature he's always had. Though his captains and commanders can hear tenseness in his voice. No matter how phenomally well the Primarch can mask it.

It's been there since they'd first gotten the first of multiple emergency vox hails, only a few seconds long with a barely stable connection. But the few words that had gotten through had made it obvious that the planet was being sieged.

One of their bases was being sieged, a spit in the face of the Imperial Fists.

Even worse, Dorn has no idea as to your welfare.

He'd thought you safe there, the safest you could be other than with him or on Inwit, and now you stand on a world being laid waste with no way to contact anyone off world. He wonders deep in a part of his mind if it was an error on his part.

They're less than a day out now, watching the warp tear by. Dorn stands at the ship's bridge- unmovable. He'll see the planet any moment now when they leave Warp travel, and then can he prepare for what all is ahead of him.

He has the utmost faith in his men and you. However that doesn't mean that a small, human part of him doesn't worry at the idea of you being stuck mid-siege in an unknown location.

He taught you well. He taught you well. A mantra in his head no one else can hear. It is up to yourself to survive without him.

The siege isn't visible from orbit when they arrive, given the massive storm blocking large swaths of the land in a white blanket. It will making landing difficult, but the storm is clearing- at least according to the tech priest currently in charge. Not long after orders are given to begin battering the enemy's battleships as they strike back, shields taking a sizable hit. Nothing the Eternal Crusader and it's crew cannot handle.

But it doesn't feel as if the ice storm is clearing with the way the gunships struggle to remain stable, even with the most competent of pilot. Though they still manage to land on solid footing in one piece, the wind whipping their armor like a flog. Sheets of snow blow across snow already heavily packed onto the ground, covering up the large footprints of Astartes that had been here moments before them. The stone of the steps is barely visible through it all.

Dorn strides forward, the snow sticking to his boots as he trudges through it. He can hear bolter fire in the distance, as well as what seems like the highpowered cannon of multiple Baneblades. A small team of five Astartes follow behind him, two on each side and one directly behind. They have their bolters raised, ever vigilant even well in the safely of their own area of control. Wind rips through his cropped hair and howls in his ears, and for a split second, he perhaps regrets not wearing his helm. Even for a man of Inwit, this cold stings; He can hear the ice and snow crunching in the seams of his armor.

Stepping inside the cathedral, the first thing he notes is the myriad of supplies stacked inside in the aisles, safe from the elements. Guardsmen are looking after them, divvying them out amongst themselves, or delivering them to the Astartes in need of them. Of which there are a few- Imperial Fist guards from before the siege began. Most seem in decent condition; Dorn notes a lack of injuries amongst the Guardsmen and Astartes alike, and how there seems to be an established system amongst them.

He keeps walking through the nave, passing Guardsmen and Astartes who all give him a drop of the head when he passes.

"Primarch Dorn!"

An Imperial Fist Lieutenant calls to him, helmet in his hand. He has blood on his lips from where his skin has split, the cold having whipped his skin dry. Going down the few steps of the ambulatory, he gives a curt nod.

"Lady Dorn and Captain Polux are in the east hall. Central command has been established there."

He affirms to the warrior and turns, walking through the transept and down the hall. The one who'd spoken to him seems to have other duties, and stays behind on the ambulatory.

He can hear chatter in the large, arched hall- it increases until he reaches the door it's bleeding from, and he opens it and ducks to come through. It's just too short for him, but the ceiling inside can thankfully handle someone of his height. It's a thought that is always in the back of his mind.

When Dorn enters the room, the first thing his eyes focus on is you; Leaning over a massive holotable with Captain Alexis Polux standing firmly at your side. He stands like an unmoving guardian, a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He's the closest to you out of anyone in the room- either out of his own will, or the gargantuan Astartes has incidentally created a personal area of clearance around you both with his presence alone.

"Dorn!"

You say, an audible pep in your voice. The Primarch walks closer and examines the scene in front of him. You appear uninjured, apart from your skin being slightly pallid from the cold.

The Primarch notices how everyone operates around you with a level of assiduity and efficiency, having been giving clear cut duties. There is no arguing, no fighting, everyone both in this room and all around the cathedral operate smoothly. You have a perimeter established, and you’ve been careful to push the advance but not stretch yourself too thin.

You've done well. That much is clear. A part of him wonders if you'd be able to clean this all up on your own, had he decided to simply give you the reinforcements and leave.

Dorn watches as you momentarily turn away from him to speak to an approaching commissar, and he finds himself listening to your confident and assured tone of voice. A thought crosses his mind.

You look beautiful.

All of your inquiries, curious questions and shaking confidence in your ability to lead have all mixed together, and while you might have made different choices than him, he cannot deny your effectiveness.

Dorn decides to speak before he distracts himself within his own mind further. A hold of your hand or to take a kiss of yours are things reserved for private, not here. As much as he might wish to.

"You appear to have done well for yourselves."

You look up at him and give a wry smile, while he glances at the holotable in-between you both.

"It could be worse. I have a squad of Astartes stuck behind enemy lines, but we've pushed the enemy back from the supply warehouses."

This planet has large city buildings that the wind rips around through, unlike the shorter ones of Inwit. The Astartes are fine in their sealed suits and higher body temperature, but the Guardsmen are all struggling. You more than likely are as well, despite holding strong. He can see the chill on your skin, the cracked skin of your lips.

Dorn's reinforcements will provide valuable support to yours, and with their might together, this planet with be rid of the siege.

You turn to order that the men currently in the battlefield get notice that Primarch Dorn has arrived, and that reinforcements are coming. Besides the soon coming tactical advantage, it will provide a well needed boost to moral. With the intense weather, it has surely been lowering. Though your smile and optimistic look in your eyes prove to be a valuable motivator.

No matter how good the orders, often times the way they're said and the person giving them are what matter most.

The Primarch looks to Captain Polux, and gives him a curt nod. The Astartes politely returns a dip of his head in thanks to the silent compliment of his duty. Dorn then looks back to you.

"You and any men injured will return to the Eternal Crusader." You let out a laugh and shake your head. He can hear the rattle of the bolter on your hip.

"Well now that I've started this, I'm kind of keen on seeing it finished before I leave."

Dorn's eyebrows raise ever so slightly, amused by you. He taught you well, he repeats again. Your command over a such a less than optimal situation has proven as such.

The Lady of the Imperial Fists has proven herself not only to be smart, beautiful, and full of humility, but to be stalwart and confident as well.

"Very well."

He'll stay at your side, and judging by his solid stance, Polux will as well.

Dorn very rarely has doubts, but your confidence and ability to adapt have solidified his thoughts that he had made the right choice in you. His 'sons' taking well to your command makes it far easier.

They will have to when you officially become his wife, after all. You have already accepted the title of Lady Dorn, he has no reason to not seal your bond. There hasn't been much else in his life he has been more sure of.

Ignoring any of his more personal desires in the back of his mind, Primarch Rogal Dorn abides by your request, eyes focused more on your lips as you smile at him.

#gee i wonder if my favorite astartes are obvious if you read my stuff #just wait until i write for Konrad and 90% of the fic is actually just Sevatar because I love him uwu #rogal dorn x reader #Rogal Dorn/Reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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piratefishmama · 1 year

Text

Crossing The Line | Part 9

“Eddie. Dude. You have to stop pacing, you’re gonna wear a hole in the goddamn floor and we ain’t covered for that.”

Eddie did not stop pacing, he just turned on his heel and went in the other direction, starting a fresh line in the floor. “But what if— nah, he wouldn’t… I doubt it, no he was probably just—but then what if—"

“Man, you’re spiralling, if he’s gonna come, he’s gonna come, if he doesn’t, then he doesn’t, what’re you worried about, you don't even like the guy” Eddie didn’t stop pacing. “Unless… Do you?”

“I… may have… actually looked into him?”

“You what?”

“After he turned up at the coffee shop! He was just… he was nice, dude, and… an he had no reason to be, at all, I was a bitch for a whole week towards him for no reason, but he was nice, and funny, and he can sing even if he can’t do shit with metal, he can sing, and… his photoshoots don’t touch up shit he really is that pretty, and I think i'm going to spontaneously combust and die if he turns up tonight dressed to blend in.”

“Wow.”

“Leave me alone!”

“Okay, so, what did you find out on your deep dive through Instagram?” Eddie finally stopped pacing. They were in what the bar deemed to be a ‘green room’ which was really just a room in the back for bands to get their shit together before the gig started, Corroded Coffin always turned up a good hour or so early to make sure everything was set, and of course, get rid of any pre-gig jitters. Gareth was the only one completely ready, his drums were already out there, set up and covered by a black sheet waiting for their time to shine, and his outfit was sorted ages ago.

So Gareth was the one currently in charge of dealing with Eddie, while the other two primped elsewhere.

“Not just Instagram, Jesus, imagine if I’d have scrolled too far back and liked a pic from like, 2001 by accident. How about no to that inevitable mortification. I googled.”

“You googled.”

“Yes I googled!! Did you know that he donated like, ninety-something percent of his earnings from a bullshit rom-com soundtrack deal to LGBT charities across the US after they cut a lesbian couple out of it?”

“No…”

“Neither did I! The fucker didn’t tell anyone!! I HAD TO DEEP DIVE INTO ROBIN’S INSTAGRAM! Trust me that was a scary thing to do, she’s scary. but he pulls that shit all the time apparently!” It wasn’t for publicity, it wasn’t to make himself look good to a demographic, he did it because he could. Because he wanted to. “Did you know he regularly terrorizes producers and directors into offering fair contracts for their child actors and young muscians like a goddamn world class showbiz babysitter?”

“…Nope.”

“Neither did I!! Did you know that he got PERMISSION to sing Crazy Train from the actual goddamn Osbornes? Cause I sure as shit didn’t know that either! He spoke to Sharon, DIRECTLY, Gareth, DIRECTLY. What the actual fucknuggets on fire, does he want with me?!”

“I dunno, to kiss you maybe?”

“WHY?!”

“Can’t claim to have an answer dude, you’re not exactly my type. Maybe you’re his, he did come all this way, right?”

“Pretty sure he could find a weird metalhead in his own damn town, y’know?”

“Maybe it’s not the metalhead thing, I dunno Eds, I just know that maybe this guy will be in the crowd, and if he is, hell yeah, you have managed to secure probably thee best opportunity we’ve ever had in the history of ever, by… being a bitch.”

“We’ve ever had?” Eddie looked at him with a small frown

“Yeah man! Steve Harrington is a huge star in the music world. Dude probably has his own goddamn recording studio in his place… maybe if it goes well… we could ask him if we could use it, save us some cash on a recording studio for demos.”

“…Dude. That’s. That’s kinda taking advantage isn’t it? An I’m not whoring myself out to get free studio time.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, BUT if you start dating this guy—"

“Gare, anything you say that relates to me using my first potential relationship as a step ladder to fame, is SUPER shitty. Let’s not do that. If he offers, then… maybe, but… that’s not—I wouldn’t even think about asking for that, we wanna get where we’re going on our own, not have it handed to us, right?”

“Well… yeah but… a helping hand would be nice sometimes, y’know? Get us out of playing these shitty dive bar gigs and into the big leagues, you know I can’t stand part time work filling the gaps in the wages, man, retail managers always suck donkey dicks. I cannot work another summer at Staples, they have like no AC, it’s torture, it’s like an oven in there and Ralph doesn’t wear deodorant, he claims it’s an allergy, but I know, I know it’s not, he does it as a power thing it’s weird. This… could be our ticket out.”

“Steve isn’t a ticket. Maybe stop digging a grave you can’t climb out of, yeah? I know I wasn’t the best towards him but… he’s better, deserves better than that… I’m not using him. An honestly I dunno if I’d even know how y’know? It’s not like I’m bursting with experience… barely even—y’know what, I’m not talking about this, big nope on the using Steve as a cheat code to achieving fame! Let’s just… get our shit together and get out there!”

Gareth smiled before rising to his feet, drumsticks in hand “you’re the boss, man. Where’s Jeff an Frank?”

“Bathroom touching up their shit… promise me you won’t bring it up to Steve, yeah? Like… if he does come, you won’t—”

“Dude, dude… I was just throwing out dumb ideas to get you out of your head, I’d never, that’d be really uncool of me” Eddie looked at him with doubt because… okay, maybe there was a little truth to the interest in the subject, Gareth had worked part time in the stationary section of Staples for three years now and he was just about ready to die if he had to deal with his supervisors summer BO any longer, but if Eddie put his foot down and said no, then it was no, the idea was vetoed. Axed. Deader than dead

He could deal with Ralph. Probably.

“…Right, well… oka—”

The door opened, a frizzy head of hair poking around the entry way, one of the bartenders, “You’re on in five guys! Wh—Where’s the rest of you??”

“Gareth go get em for me? I’ll get the crowd warmed up.”

“On it.”

T-5 minutes. Gareth rushed out the opposite door to the bathrooms behind 'stage', otherwise known as the staff bathroom. The bar was heaving, music from the speakers to fill the void of sound before the live music act, loud and thumping, it’d be them soon, filling that void, deep breath. Eddie fluffed his hair once more, spritzed it with hairspray one last time, checked his minimalist eyeliner, and shook himself out, and grabbed his baby.

Show time.

Part 11

#PirateWrites #Crossing The Line #Steddie #Ficlet #okay so... Gareth is a lil desperate to get out of retail #lets cut him some slack #even if he is being a little shit there :'D

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tai-janai · 1 month

Text

Reunite

Path 10: Validation

(Chapter Select)

Your head stings, even before your eyes open.

Voice of the Hero:

Sorry. I've been reaching more and more ends, quite a few have been making pairs.

"Then why does my head hurt?"

Voice of the Hero:

I mean, I'm in here. I'm kind of dying in all those worlds. It doesn't feel too great. Thought you'd be a little excited about all this.

You rub your forehead. You sigh dejectedly, then try to remember all the good you're doing.

"I am... I am. This is good, I'm happy for them."

Voice of the Hero:

And this is the last one, isn't it? Nobody else is after this.

You open your eyes to a rather reflective room. Everything is metal. It doesn't attack your eyes quite as much as the other shiny one, but it's a whole lot less welcoming. Even what you stand on seems like slabs of steel. A tilted table to the side holds the echo of the blade, blending in even more than usual.

You can tell this is the final imprisoned Being. You hope in vain that it won't be the hardest. You think about the large one with the eyes and chains. That one sucked. The stone one, the melting one, the first, nervy one.

But, you changed them. The outcome was different once you stepped in. It may be unfair on both ends, but you're working to even things out.

You feel everyone's support with you as you grab the blade's echo. As its weightlessness shifts in your grasp, you wonder if it is the last time.

You walk to the askew metal door. You are stopped before you grab the handle.

Voice of the Hero:

Hey.

Its tone is tender, and it soothes your growing worry.

Voice of the Hero:

I... I'm really proud of you. And even if - or when - this guy tears me out of your head, I'm always with you.

"And I'm glad you're there."

A happy glow warms your body as you and the Voice share a moment of serenity.

You take a deep, sure breath, and open the door.

The way down is decidedly not stairs. It seems to once have been a metal ramp, but had something carve down the middle of it. You try your best to take it slow, but everything is smooth, and any footholds are pointed and sharp. Everything smells like fire and metal.

You make it to the bottom, and you see the steely room. Right in the center of it, with the chain around its "neck," stands a bright, rangy Being.

Sharp, blood-red eyes stare at you. A pointed-toothed mouth is turned downward in a scowl. A heart beats behind a set of translucent ribs. Everything else is... a substance you can't quite understand.

Something between glass and metal, every part of it that was once skin is a jagged edge of a reflective, razor-sharp material. It looks like something that had been broken repeatedly, but continues to crash back together. Parts of this "skin" float around it in an orbit. Its fingers are very long and tapered, sharp like everything else, and stained with what you assume is blood. Beneath the beating heart is its legs, which seem joined at a single point on the ground, like it's balancing there at a pinpoint. Its head once had horns, but it is only shattered metal-glass.

Back for more?

Its voice is grating. Do you even want to fight this thing?

"More?"

It flashes its blade-like fingers and squints at you.

I had some issues with our first encounter. I'm glad you've come back so I can do it right this time.

"We've never met before, I don't want to fight."

Bloody liar.

With a disgusting screech of metal, it drags towards you, swiping with its claws. The noise is hell on your eardrums, but you dive out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, the floor is more jagged metal, and you cut your knee.

Voice of the Hero:

Shit, that was awful! Why's this one so angry??

With a crackle of bending metal, you turn and see the Being growing enraged.

Two against one!? You little demon, I'll tear you to goddamn atoms!

It extends a palm at you, and you feel the sense of something gripping you, holding you in place. You lock eyes with the Being as you are squeezed.

Voice of the Hero:

No, no! Stop- Agh!

With a sudden jerk, the constricting feeling falls, and you and the Other drop to the floor, separated once again. You hear a wicked laugh from the creature.

I'm the one in charge now, aren't I? I can finally get you back for all the bullshit you put me through.

You feel yourself convulsing, everything in you twitches and creaks. The Other at your side groans.

You grit your teeth, and your vision swims with rage.

You grab the echo once again. It had fallen when you were split. You can barely tell you have it in your grasp.

Though you ache, you rise to your feet, eyes fixated on the large creature.

"You think you're in charge? With that chain around your neck? Your heart is exposed, it wouldn't take much to get to it."

The Hero:

What?

In your mind echoes the same thought: What???

With a scraping growl, the Being charges again, swiping at you. You dodge one attack, but don't expect the second.

A shard of the metallic glass cuts into your arm.

Its the first time you've bled. Ever, even.

The Hero:

Stop! He didn't put you down here!

It slices at you again, and you deflect it with the, thankfully physical, echo.

What in the world are you on about?

It continues to clash blades with you and leave minuscule cuts along your limbs as it converses with the Other.

With a scrape, it leans away, and you catch your breath. What is this? You're fighting?

He put me here, and now he's trying to kill me. I'm just defending myself.

The Hero:

You are made of blades!!!???

Is the fight unfair? Does he have as much strength as he says?

What about your own?

You look at the echo you hold. It is nonexistent. What is deflecting the Being's attacks?

No, that's not right. It's there.

The Being lunges again, and you move beyond your own volition. You strike at its side, leaving a crack in its translucent ribs. The creature groans, a sickening sound of twisting metal.

You don't feel control over your own body. Do you have a choice? Why are you fighting?

"I want to free you."

The Being swipes at you, and you only barely evade its reach. It growls.

You're attacking me. Why won't you both just shut up!

It leans back and waves to the Other.

Better yet, why don't you try an' help me here? He wanted to lock you up too, just like he did to me!

The Hero:

I swear, he wasn't! I would know, I was in his head!

I'm sick of the lying!

With a swing of its arm, shards of its body go flying towards the other.

You shout in fear, but thankfully, it was only a warning, and the shards stick into the floor only a foot away from the Other's feet. He seems terrified, but okay.

You face the Being again. It is horrid. It has almost hurt the other part of you. You hate it.

You step forward.

This is what it's supposed to be, isn't it? You see the rage in its eyes. You want to plant your knife into its beating heart-

"NO!"

You fling the echo at the far wall, and the clang reverberates along the metal floor. The Being has flinched away from you.

You don't want to fight it, you want to save it.

Where are these conflicting thoughts coming from?

What's all this? You've given up? That's not a win!?

"I do want to free you. I do."

The Hero:

He isn't usually like this...

I don't care about being free, I want to win!

You see blades flash above you, and then they cut through you.

Not all the way, just across your front, leaving three large, disconnected streaks of red across your entire body. You don't feel it at first, the adrenaline numbing your body, but everything starts to sting.

Even if it isn't the worst, it is the most physical pain you've experienced. It is strange.

You fall to the floor, only barely able to catch yourself on wounded arms. Blood flows from everywhere. It is... so red.

Wh... Why are you so much weaker than you had been? What the hell is this?

You look at your bloody hands. It seeps through the indents of your scales. The fluid trails down your arm in lightning-shaped streaks. It hurts to bleed.

Your gaze turns up towards the creature, who scowls at you.

"I'm sorry. I didn't put you here."

Bullshit!

It screeches at you, but doesn't attack.

What is with this personality shift?? Get back up, if I'm gonna win, it's gonna be on my terms. You can't just throw in the towel once things aren't in your favor!

"You're right. But I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... attack you."

And what the hell does that mean?

You see its heart, bright crimson and pounding in its chest. Everything about the being is so dangerous, but its vital organ seems the least protected. You want to tear into it. But you want to hold it, and keep it safe.

The creature wants a fight, you have to give it to him.

No, you don't.

Your mind floods with the experiences from all of the other imprisoned Beings. You feel pulled along by a string, trying to force you to stand, but you kneel.

"Y-You must be in pain. After being trapped here so long, alone."

No shit it hurt! Get back up so I can cause you the same pain!

Your wounds bleed, but they don't hurt. You don't think that's what the Being is going for anyway.

The Hero:

Please, stop. Let us let you out of here.

Leave? Now that I've got power? Now that I... I can win!?

You combat the incessant thoughts. This creature has done nothing wrong.

With a shing of blades, razor-sharp fingers lift you by your armpits from your place on the floor. The sharpness cuts into you just enough to get a grip on you.

The win means nothing if you're not- If you aren't what I remember!

With bated breaths, you look into the creature's eyes. It is... quite a bit bigger than you. You see your blood trailing down its metallic arm.

You love this creature. You hate it. You want it dead. You want it safe. It hisses at you.

The moment I have power, you are limp and weak.

You are suddenly released, and you drop to the ground inelegantly. Your knees buckle and your head hits the metal. Its voice lowers, and starts to shake.

The moment I have anything, I...

With a heavy head, you lift yourself to look at it. It stares at its stained, sharp hands in horror.

You slowly bring yourself to your feet. Its pupils focus on you, and then follow the curved gashes across your body.

"I know you are angry. Your anger is justified. You deserve to kill me many times over."

Metal creaks as the Being closes in on itself.

Would that be enough? Would it ever mean anything?

"That's up to you."

Harsh scrapes bombard your eardrums as pieces of metal flare and swish through the air.

Are you what put me here? Why did I turn into this?

You step closer to it. Your steps are unsteady as your blood lubricates the smooth metal floor.

"I didn't put you here. I didn't make you this way."

With determination, you grab the creature's sharp, elongated fingers. You can feel their edge, but they do not cut into your flesh.

"We can change things. The pain can end. You can be free."

You can hear every thump of its heart, like a hammer to an anvil, concealed behind its veil of a ribcage. It speaks breathily. It sounds like it is far away.

I'm tired of waiting. I just want things to get better.

Pieces of it fall to the floor, clashing and shattering. You do not flinch at the jarring noise.

Why is everything different..?

The Being is weak. You are disgusted by it. You love it. You are afraid of it. You find comfort in it.

"To change in one way means it can change another."

The fingers you hold dig into you. You feel your skin give way.

Will it get better?

"It can."

You smile up at it. Your marred skin stretches.

"Isn't that incredible?"

Sparks fly as metal crushes and crumples. The horrid din rages through your mind, but it is soon joined by the familiar rustling of feathers.

You step back, releasing your hold on the Being's hand. You feel cool air where your skin was split.

Small hits of cartilage dragging against metal rise and fall. The being is shrunken down to a size like all of the others. A heavy chain clatters to the ground, and it echoes, the last of the noise.

You see a reflection of yourself, but this one is scarred and tattered. Its feathers are unkempt, its scales uneven and messy. It scratches at its skin. You exhale in relief.

The Other has rushed to your side, now that the danger is quieted.

The Cheated:

Maybe I... went a little too far.

"It's okay."

It winces and looks at your many bleeding wounds.

The Cheated:

Is it...?

With delicate hands, the Other feels your gashes. He mumbles under his breath.

The Hero:

I honestly didn't know if we could bleed, but I didn't want to actually find it out.

You place your bloody hand on the side of his face. He looks into your eyes, and you smile.

"Everything is fine. We should move on."

It steps out of your embrace, confused.

The Hero:

Move on? But, isn't this the end?

The Cheated:

The hell d'you mean, "move on"?

The Hero:

I've gotta- Well, I did, but- Um.

You look to the new one.

"There are other people we've managed to save. Would you want to meet them?"

It lights up, tattered feathers flaring with excitement.

The Cheated:

Others? Where? Why didn't you lead with that, not trying to stab me?

You blink, and remember. Your eyes dart around the room.

You feel watched.

The Hero:

Are you sure you're alright?

You nod. Your feet take you to the echo you tossed away. You grab it by the blade, so as to not get any of your blood on the hilt.

The Cheated:

And what's that for? Are you...

It quiets as you reapproach the Other. He hesitantly takes the echo from your grasp.

The Cheated:

I get to see the other people... But you don't? Even though you freed them?

You look at it, a little surprised that it pointed such a thing out, and then you grin.

"Your sense of justice is admirable."

It looks shocked in response. A wing flutters minutely. You look back at the Other.

"This is what comes next."

Your eyebrows furrow in determination. You don't want to die, but there is something that comes after. This isn't the end for you.

The new one pouts with worried discontent. You don't want to leave him.

The Other fiddles with the blade, and then comes to a decision. It mirrors your own look of determination.

You don't break your stare on the shining blade as it raises, and then...

The Other's empty fist hits your chest.

It shouts in confusion and pulls away, a spot of your blood from your other wounds is left on it. The knife is nowhere to be seen.

The Hero:

Huh? Where'd it go?

It looks around the floor around you, believing the blade fell from his hands somewhere in its arc.

The Cheated:

Did it just... Pop out of existence?

You stay frozen. You thought you were going to die. You should have died.

There is a sound. Some, undulating pulsation. Every open wound on your body gets a chill of cold air.

The Other finds your gaze again. His eyes widen in horror.

"Wait..."

Something grabs you. Your vision goes white.

#:)#stp #slay the princess #voice of the hero #stp fanart #stp fanfic #fanfic #yeeaaayy #cw blood #gross wounds and stuff #have caution

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blondiest · 9 months

Text

The year is 2009. The month? August. The day...? I'm so glad you asked. It's the 24th. Birthday of the specialest boy in the whole world (Near. Obviously.)

Near HIMSELF doesn't actually do anything for it, sadly. He's on that grind working with the SPK. No time. Although maybe he makes Rester go pick up a fancy lego set he's had his eyes on for a while. Still, he doesn't actually celebrate — no one there knows it's his birthday, and that's how he would prefer it. He doesn't want anyone to fuss.

HOWEVER. Across the country. In the state of California. In the city of Los Angeles. Sitting on a zebra-print couch inside a highly secret mafia base. Mello is acutely aware that it's Near's birthday. And he's annoyed as all fuck that he's acutely aware of it. Near probably doesn't remember when it's HIS birthday, and he doesn't WANT to remember that it's Near's birthday, but here he is, remembering that it's Near's goddamn birthday.

Still, he's busy, too. All his mafia shit. Collecting evidence (and stealing it from Near through Ratt). Et cetera et cetera. So he manages to keep his mind off of it. For the most part, anyway. But then eventually it gets kinda late, and he's done the things that he can do for the day, so he's about to head back to his apartment. But one of the mafia guys invites him to drink with them.

Normally he says no. Mostly because he doesn't really want to be intoxicated / compromised in front of people that he doesn't really want to have info on him. However. Going back to his apartment alone sounds kind of wretched. So this time he joins them. Except Mello has an absolutely terrible understanding of his own limits / tolerance level so he gets completely blackout drunk :/

I'm imagining he has, like, a place he sleeps in the mafia base sometimes when he doesn't feel like driving back to his apartment (like if he stays late enough that there's not a point). So he wakes up. Horrible hangover. Wretched. He tries to remember the events of the night before; nothing past his third drink (<- a lightweight). He checks his cell phone; he made three calls to Ratt, two of which lasted less than ten seconds and the third of which lasted two minutes. This immediately sets off alarm bells in his head. He's panicking.

So Mello gets dressed and drags himself out of his shitty little makeshift bedroom and starts subtly asking around for what happened the night before. Several of the men are super evasive about it, but after a few well-placed threats, someone finally reveals that he disappeared for thirty minutes and came back with a box that he INSISTED needed to go to the post office first thing in the morning.

Huge wave of cold dread. He asks if the box has already been mailed. The guy is like. Well. Yeah. It's one in the afternoon. You told us to ship it first thing. So it's gone.

Mello is in shambles over this. He starts frantically searching his little makeshift bedroom for clues of what the hell he might have sent Near. In the garbage can he finds a crumpled-up and half-legible lovehate letter. He can't read all of it— some of the handwriting is atrociously messy, other parts a bit smeared— but what he can make out is damning. There are, like, three full sentences about Near's eyes. One of the sentences describes them as "bug-like," which isn't so embarrassing for him, but the other two use words like "captivating" and "enigmatic" and, bafflingly, "celestial."

((a bit ns // fw [not explicit, just suggestive] under the cut))

In addition to waxing poetic about Near's appearance, there's an entire paragraph of him speculating on what Near would be like in bed (the words "clumsy" and "squeaky" and "lousy" all make appearances). That's not great— he doesn't really want to sexually harass / insult his lifelong rival via snail mail, regardless of how celestial his eyes are— but the next paragraph is worse.

Paragraph is a generous description— it's just one very long run on sentence. Don't worry though it's okay you're a weird awkward virgin who would give really bad head I still love you think you're cute and youcould probably learn because I could teach you stuff and as long as you listen to me you'll be fine <- only HALF of the sentence from hell.

Anyways. For a second he's like well, it's here in the trash, so I guess I didn't send it, but it pretty much immediately occurs to him that the one in the trash was a draft, because notably something still did get sent to Near. It's weird that he used a box, but then, he was pretty fucking drunk, and he probably just used whatever was lying around. He goes through the five stages of grief plus three secret additional stages (which are all just him screaming into a pillow, but with varying degrees of anguish / rage / mortification) and then just. Hopes that the letter gets lost in the mail. Tries to forget about the whole thing. Moves on with his life.

A week later, in New York City, Rester brings a package to Near. They don't get packages— anything they receive from the US Government is hand-delivered by someone with clearance, and they always have a heads-up that someone's coming. The box has already been opened— Rester had someone screen it first, had it scanned via x-ray and then opened by someone dressed in head-to-toe biohazard gear in case there was anthrax inside. There wasn't. Rester tells him there's no return address and no name of the sender. Inside the box is a single disposable camera.

Near immediately knows that there is no one it could be from but Mello— no one else who could have figured out where he was. It looks like Mello's handwriting on the box, too, though it's honestly pretty messy, even for him. He doesn't know what could be on the camera, but he presumes it's got to be sensitive information.

He tells Rester he needs the film developed. Emphasizes how important the contents of the camera are to him. It's essential that not a single photo is lost. Rester nods, disappears. Comes back like five hours later with an expression of subdued bemusement. Hands Near an envelope with the photos in it. Looks like he's going to say something, but doesn't. Leaves.

Near opens the envelope. Inside are 30 separate photos of Mello. Most of them don't show any of his face. All of them were taken with flash on. All in front of a mirror.

All shirtless.

He puts the photos back in the envelope and tucks the envelope into his shirt and goes back to work. His face feels hot for a long time after. Distantly he feels disappointed that he can't ask Mello why he went to all the trouble of tracking Near down just to send something like that, but he can't ask his employees to spend their time trying to track Mello down in return for such a trivial personal matter.

Things proceed more or less as they do in canon. Mello kidnaps the NPA director, then Sayu, gets the notebook, kills Ratt and several more members of the SPK, loses the notebook, blows up the mafia base, drags his burnt-to-a-crisp ass to New York, finds Halle. He wants to ask her if Near got a letter a few months back, but he decides against it, because he doesn't want to show his hand. After all, there's a chance it got lost in the mail, or a chance he didn't sign it (though Near would undoubtedly recognize the sender as Mello just by the contents of the letter, and the fact that the letter reached him at all). He's trying to hold onto the possibility that he did not, in fact, send a deranged, multi-page, sexually explicit and obsessive letter to Near. He has to hold onto that hope.

Except when he goes to get the photo he left at the orphanage from Near, there's a weird vibe. A vibe that he can't help but feel is unrelated to him holding Halle at gunpoint and also pointing his gun at Near. The blonde guy that works for Near is giving him an especially judgmental look. Mello gets his photo and gives Near a bit of info and gets the fuck out, but he's haunted for the rest of the day by the knowledge that yes, Near totally got that fucking letter.

So he writes another letter. Makes it EXTREMELY clear that all of the things he said about Near's eyes being captivating and celestial were JOKES, and that he DOESN'T want to fuck Near and is not in love with him. Gives the letter to Halle to give to Near with express instructions not to open it herself. She agrees, takes it to Near.

Near opens the letter from Mello. Right off the bat, he's confused, because this letter mentions a previous letter, and Near never got a previous letter. The box only had the disposable camera in it. That was it. As he continues reading, the bafflement only increases.

By the end of the letter, Near's mind is scrambled, but he has little doubt what he needs to do.

He asks Halle to call Mello and ask him to come back to headquarters. They have some things to talk about.

sorry this is left open ended i simply don't feel like finishing it. please just assume they work things out and fuck nasty. thanks 🥰

#meronia #mellonear #FILE UNDER: POSTS I MADE IN AN ATTEMPT TO STOP MYSELF FROM STARTING A NEW FIC THAT GOT LONGER THAN THEY SHOULDVE #i will eventually write this tho #<- girl who says that a lot #blondiepost

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