#also something with the style of the show | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nhlclover · 3 hours

Text

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 | 𝐋𝐔𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐄𝐒

summary: you ignore luke's warnings about jacks commitment, only leading to your heartbreak.

warnings: bsf ! luke hughes x reader, jack hughes x reader, angst, (implied but not really) unrequited love, jack being a terrible boyfriend, age gap but not really? (2 years)

word count: 3.55k

For as long as everyone could remember it had been you and Luke. You had met in childhood and your bond had been immediate. It was as if the universe conspired to bring the two of you together in an inseparable bond. You soon became a part of the Hughes family’s rituals, joining them most summers as they went to their lake house in Michigan.

Jack, Luke’s older brother, however, had always been a different story. Jack was the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went, drawing people in with his effortless charm and a smile that could light up a room. He was adored by many and you were no exception.

Jack had never really paid much mind to you growing up. To him, you were just Luke’s friend. You were always around, spending several summers at the Hughes’s lake house, but he never looked your way with any particular interest. He was the cool older kid, focused on hockey and his own friends, and you were just a fixture in the background. He honestly forgot about you when he moved to New Jersey.

But when you moved to New Jersey for college, you changed. The change did you good; you grew up, you found your style, you became more confident. You had a glow-up that turned heads wherever you went. Then you were suddenly back in Jack’s life when Luke joined him in New Jersey. You weren’t just the little kid from down the street anymore; you’d grown up, and Jack noticed.

The first time Jack noticed you was when the team had gone out after a game and Luke had invited you along. As you got to know Luke’s new teammates, you couldn’t help but notice Jack’s gaze lingering on you. There was a flicker of something new in his gaze, something that made your heart skip a beat. When you wrapped up your conversation with Dawson, he walked over, flashing you a grin that made your knees weak. “Hey,” he said. “Haven’t seen you in ages. You look great.”

It started with little things, a flirty comment here and there, you going to games at Jack's request, and before you knew it, you and Jack were dating. Luke was initially taken aback by this sudden change. It irked him, not because he didn’t want you to be happy, but because he had always seen you, appreciated you, and now Jack was swooping in with his newfound attention. Seeing you with his brother brought about mixed feelings. He loved seeing you happy, but there was a part of him that was protective, wary of Jack’s intentions.

Jack was charming and fun, but he was also notoriously noncommittal. Luke knew his brother better than anyone. He had seen Jack go through relationships with an almost casual disregard, enjoying the thrill of the chase more than the stability of a long-term commitment. It wasn’t long before Luke’s concern grew into a quiet, nagging worry. He watched as you threw yourself wholeheartedly into the relationship, your eyes lighting up at every text from Jack, your weekends revolving around his hockey schedule and social events.

However, Jack’s habit of non-commitment soon showed itself as he began cancelling dates last minute. At first, it was the occasional change of plans due to practice running late or spontaneous team dinners and you were understanding. You knew how demanding Jack’s schedule could be, and you didn’t want to be the reason he missed out on important moments with his team. But as the weeks went by, the excuses became more frequent and less plausible, especially when Luke was never part of the team outings or stayed late for practice.

There were times when you’d get ready for a planned dinner, excitement bubbling within you, only to receive a text from Jack an hour before, saying he couldn’t make it. You would sit there, staring at your reflection in the mirror, feeling the sting of disappointment settle in. Yet, you brushed it off, convinced that things would get better once Jack’s schedule eased up.

Luke, meanwhile, watched this pattern unfold. He noticed the way your face would fall when you received those last-minute cancellations, the way you tried to hide your hurt behind a brave smile. He wanted to say something, to protect you from the pain he saw coming, but he didn’t want to seem like he was undermining your happiness.

One Friday night, after Jack had bailed on yet another date, you found yourself sitting alone in your apartment, a bottle of wine on the table and your favorite movie playing. You paused the movie after there was a soft knock on your door. You opened it, Luke standing across from you carrying a pizza box and a sympathetic smile.

“Thought you might want some company,” he said. You offered him a weak smile, letting him in. He set the pizza down on the table and flopped onto the couch beside you.

The movie played on and as the hours passed, you felt the weight of your relationship worries lift. But as the night wore on and the wine bottle emptied, Luke couldn’t keep his concerns to himself any longer.

“Listen, I don’t want to overstep,” he began hesitantly, “but I’m worried about you. About Jack. He’s not treating you the way you deserve.”

You sighed, swirling the last of your wine in your glass. “I know he’s been flaky, but he cares about me. I just… I think he’s overwhelmed right now.”

“Maybe,” Luke conceded. “But you deserve someone who makes you a priority, not an afterthought. I hate seeing you get hurt.”

You considered Luke’s words for a moment, briefly questioning your importance to Jack. The memories of canceled plans and unreturned calls surfaced, but you quickly pushed them aside. Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a defensive pang in your chest. “I know Jack can be a bit flaky, but he’s different with me. I know he cares,” you insisted, your voice firm, though a hint of doubt lingered.

Luke’s expression softened, his concern etched deeply in his features. “I just don’t want to see you getting hurt because you’re more invested than he is. You mean a lot to me, and I hate seeing you disappointed.”

You brushed off Luke’s concerns, determined to prove him wrong. You wanted to believe in Jack, in the potential of your relationship, and you were committed to making it work. Every time Jack flaked on a plan or sent a last-minute cancellation text, you told yourself it was just a phase, a rough patch that all couples go through.

Because on the rare occasions when Jack did follow through with your plans, those moments felt magical. The way he would laugh at your jokes, the warmth of his hand in yours, the stolen kisses in crowded places—all of it made you feel special like you were the most important person in his world. It was in those fleeting moments that you clung to the belief that Jack truly cared for you.

Then came your birthday.

Your 21st birthday was something you had been looking forward to for a while now. You never did much for your previous birthdays, but you decided to go all out for your 21st. You were hosting a party at your place and made it an open invitation. Your friends were coming, your co-workers were coming, and you had told Jack and Luke to invite their teammates.

You and your closest friends spent the day getting ready and setting up to host everyone. The living room was transformed with decorations perfectly suited to you.

In the days prior, you’d made sure to remind Jack repeatedly so that he wouldn’t forget. Each time, he’d reassured you with a smile and a promise, “I’ll be there, don’t worry.” You held onto that promise, convinced that this time, he wouldn’t let you down.

As the evening approached, your apartment buzzed with energy. The doorbell rang frequently, bringing waves of guests, laughter, and gifts. You greeted everyone with a radiant smile, your excitement growing with each new arrival. Luke arrived early, carrying a beautifully wrapped present (that you knew he’d gotten gift-wrapped at the mall) and wearing a grin that made you feel instantly better about the night.

“This is for you,” he said, handing you the gift. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Luke,” you replied, hugging him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he said sincerely.

The night progressed, music played, people danced, and the atmosphere was filled with joy. You floated from group to group, making sure everyone was having a good time, but your eyes kept darting to the door, waiting for Jack.

Just as you were beginning to resign yourself to the fact that Jack wasn’t going to show, the doorbell rang again. You rushed to answer it, hope flaring in your chest. But it wasn’t Jack. It was Dawson and John, looking slightly awkward.

“Hey, happy birthday!” John said, handing you a gift bag. “Sorry Jack couldn’t make it. He, uh, had something come up.”

Your heart sank. “Oh, thanks, John,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Come on in you guys, join the party.”

They both nodded and joined the crowd, leaving you standing by the door, a forced smile on your face.

Luke watched from across the room the whole evening, noticing how your smile seemed to fade with every passing minute. He knew you were hurting and it pained him to see you trying so hard to keep it together. The hours ticked by, your forced smile becoming increasingly strained, your eyes glancing at the door every few minutes.

The lively chatter and laughter of the party contrasted sharply with the growing shadow over your features. Luke could see the small signs of your distress that others missed; the way your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your dress, the deep breaths you took to steady yourself, the hollow look in your eyes every time you glanced at your phone, hoping for a message that never came.

He remembered how excited you had been for tonight, how you had spent days planning every detail to perfection. This was supposed to be a special evening, a night to celebrate with friends and the man you loved. Instead, it had turned into an agonizing wait, each tick of the clock a reminder of Jack's absence.

As the evening wore on and the party wound down, guests began to filter out. As your close friends left, they offered sympathetic looks and polite comments about Jack’s absence that were thinly veiled with pity. Luke's heart ached as he saw you nod and smile, your mask slipping just a little more each time. By the time the last of the guests had said their goodbyes, Jack was still a no-show.

You retreated to the back patio, your forced brave facade crumbling as you sank onto the sofa, letting the tears fall. The cool night air did little to soothe the storm of emotions inside you. Luke had watched you slip out to the porch, hesitating a moment before following you.

Luke stepped out on the deck, spotting you curled up on the sofa. When you turned to look at Luke, the moon glinted off your tear-stained cheeks. Quickly, you wiped away the tears with the back of your hand, turning your head away from the curly-haired boy whose pitiful expression made you feel even smaller.

Luke’s chest tightened with anger and sorrow, his heart aching at the sight of your pain. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions, but the anger bubbled up, not directed at you, but rather at his brother who’d failed to show despite your repeated reminders. What could he possibly be doing that is more important than his girlfriend's birthday? He clenched his fists, knuckles white against the backdrop of the night, his frustration nearly palpable.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a tentative step closer, the wooden boards of the deck creaking under his weight. “Are you okay?”

You kept your gaze away from Luke. “I’m fine, Luke.”

He hesitated for a moment, then moved to sit beside you on the sofa. “Y/n… I’m sorry he didn’t show.”

Slowly, you turned to face him, your eyes red and puffy from crying. “It’s fine. You were right.” you say, voice cracking and raw with emotion. “I am way more committed than Jack ever was and I was stupid to think otherwise! I get it. You don’t need to come out here and rub it in my face.”

Luke’s expression softened, the anger dissipating, replaced by a deep sadness. He reached out tentatively, placing a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m not here to rub anything in your face, Y/n. I’m here because I care about you.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill over again. “It’s just… I thought he would change, you know? I believed he cared as much as I did. But I guess I was just fooling myself.” You pull your eyes off Luke’s, not being able to bear his sorry expression. “I figured I could make him fall as in love with me as I am with him.”

Luke stayed silent, allowing you to speak every thought that was bearing down on your mind. You looked down at your hands, feeling a fresh wave of grief. “I thought he was that person,” you whispered. “I thought we were building something real.”

Luke’s anger now seemed to come back, a protective fury. “Jack’s an idiot,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a quiet intensity. “He doesn’t deserve you. He never did.”

You dropped your head, a sob wracking your body. Luke brought an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in and allowing you to rest the weight of your body against his. Your tears fell to his t-shirt, soaking the blue material. Luke held you tightly as the storm of emotions brewing inside of you came out.

For a while, the only sounds were your quiet sobs and the gentle rustling of the leaves in the night breeze. Luke didn’t say anything, mostly because his thoughts were reserved for anger directed at his brother, and that likely wasn’t what you wanted to hear at that moment. His hand moved in soothing circles on your back, offering silent reassurance.

Eventually, Luke drew you inside, bringing you to your bedroom. Your tears had waned, but the sadness remained on your face. Luke had gotten you settled in bed and was just about to leave when your soft voice broke through the quiet.

“Luke?” you asked, your voice fragile. “Can you stay for a bit? I don’t want to be alone right now.”

Luke stopped at the door, his hand resting on the frame as he turned back to look at you. The sight of your tear-streaked face and the vulnerability in your eyes tugged at his heartstrings. He nodded slowly, his expression softening further.

"Of course, y/n," he replied gently, crossing the room to sit on the edge of your bed.

He could see the exhaustion etched into your features, a mix of emotional and physical fatigue. Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and moved to lie down beside you. You shifted closer to him, curling into his side. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room.

As the minutes ticked by, your eyes grew heavier, the emotional exhaustion finally catching up with you. Luke held you, watching your breathing steady, indicating that you had finally drifted off to sleep. Even then, he stayed awake, his mind racing with thoughts of his brother and the pain he had caused you. Anger simmered beneath the surface, but he forced himself to stay calm. Right now, you needed comfort, not his fury.

After Luke was sure you had fallen completely asleep, he slipped out to the living area. He continued to clean up after the guests before eventually crashing on your couch. He couldn’t bring himself to leave you or go to his apartment where he presumed Jack was, completely oblivious to the hurt he’d caused.

When morning came, Luke left reluctantly for practice, but only after you’d assured him you were fine. But despite your promises, Luke knew you were still hurting. He drove to the rink for practice, his mind already racing with what he needed to say to Jack.

When Luke entered the locker room, he spotted Jack standing in front of Nico who was sitting in his locker. He laughed with his teammate as if nothing was wrong. As if Luke hadn’t just left your apartment, leaving a girl with tear-stained cheeks and questioning her self-worth.

Fury boiled within Luke. Without thinking, he stormed over and shoved Jack. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Jack stumbled back, surprise and anger flashing in his eyes. “What’s your problem, Luke?”

“My problem?” Luke shouted, his fists clenched at his sides. He stepped back into Jack's face. “Do you know what day it was yesterday?”

Jack returned the shove, sending Luke back a step. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You remember that you have a girlfriend, right?” Luke asked.

Jack’s face fell as he remembered the date, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

"You didn't show up. Do you have any idea how much that hurt her?" Luke asked.

By now the guys that were in the equipment room or the gym had come into the locker room to investigate what was the source of the raised voices. They crowded the entrances, watching the two brothers who were seemingly at a standoff.

Jack’s expression hardened, but guilt was evident in his eyes. “No one reminded me,” he muttered defensively.

Luke’s anger boiled over at the excuse, stepping forward to shove his brother again, but Nico pulled him back. Timo stepped in, bringing back Jack who was ready to meet his brother's fury. The commotion had now drawn the attention of Keefe, who barrelled through the guys in the doorways. He observed the scene before him, both Hughes brothers who were equally red in the face, being held back by their teammates.

“The hell is going on in here?” he asked. Both boys remained silent, the others not speaking as they still weren’t quite sure what was going on. “Someone wanna fucking tell me?”

Luke turned to look at his new head coach, hurt remaining in his eyes. “Just settling something that needs to be settled, Coach.”

Keefe’s gaze shifted between the two, reading the volatile atmosphere. “Take it outside. Now. Both of you.”

Nico and Timo let go of each boy, letting them walk into the now-empty gym. The team watched them go, a heavy silence settling in the locker room as the door swung shut behind them.

“How could you do that to her?” Luke demanded once they were alone, pacing back and forth. “She’s been nothing but good to you, and you couldn’t even show up for her birthday?”

Jack rubbed his temples, his frustration evident. “You think I don't feel bad about it? It slipped my mind, okay?”

“It slipped your mind? She reminded you about a dozen times.” Luke spat back incredulously. “She’s not some random girl you can just forget about. She’s your girlfriend, Jack. She deserves better than this.”

Jack's shoulders sank as he turned away from Luke. “She was devastated, Jack. I was the one who had to comfort her. Me! Your little brother!” Luke continued. “I was the one that stayed by her side while she cried over her boyfriend who forgot her birthday. I stayed up all night to make sure she was okay.”

Jack turned to look at Luke a confused, almost hurt look on his face. “You stayed with her?” When Luke didn’t reply, Jack’s expression darkened. “That’s low, even for you, Luke. You’ve always liked her, haven’t you? This was your chance to sabotage us.”

“Are you insane?” Luke shot back, his eyes blazing with anger. “Y/n was my friend long before she was your girlfriend. I stayed because she needed someone, and you weren’t there. No one else was.”

Luke's words hung in the air, thick with unspoken truths and simmering emotions. Jack's face twisted with a mix of anger and confusion. “You expect me to believe that you were just being the good guy?”

Luke took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice steady. “I’m not here to fight about who likes her more, Jack. I’m here because you hurt someone who didn’t deserve it. She trusted you, and you let her down.”

Jack sunk down to one of the benches, his defenses finally crumbling. “You need to figure out what you want, Jack,” Luke finally said, his voice laced with disappointment. “Because if you keep hurting her, you’re going to lose her. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

Luke stormed out of the gym, past the guys who still lingered in the locker room, leaving Jack behind in the wake of his words.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #jack hughes #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #new jersey devils

109 notes · View notes

moonstarsunplaneta · 2 days

Text

Sincerely the way I don't agree with many Challengers takes is because many of them are based on this idea that Art since the beginning didn't have passion,drive,ambition and love for tennis like Patrick. where this idea came from?. The movie is telling you he is in a losing streak because he is falling out of love with the game,but is something recent,he is fighting with a desire to retire vs wanting to love the game again,that is very understandable after a surgery,lack of confidence returning and living the demanding life of an elite player and winning almost everything in his career with the desire of living other aspects or his life. But where is shown that he didn't have the passion or drive during most of the flash backs? He even became a better player when he was in Stanford without Patrick and became a professional with success without Tashi, because when Tashi met him again he was already playing in the big league of tennis like Cincinnati not challengers or low level tournaments,so even if it still connects to Patrick and Tashi,Art's drive isn't just about Tashi or Patrick's validation. He had also played for himself all his career,when he tried to stay just for tashi he began to lose,Tashi gave him the ultimatum of leaving him and it didn't work.

I think people confuse Art being ice and Patrick being fire with less passion or love for the game,when that is about having different styles of playing tennis that can be reflected also in their personalities. Patrick being more explosive ,raw,improvisation while Art being more precise ,in control and calculated. And may be it show us Patrick being more confident,taking risks quickly but not that Art loved tennis less.

And he obviously wouldn't love tennis like Tashi, especially when Tashi lost the opportunity to play and still had that hunger in her all her life,bu If we use tennis as a fourth character or a metaphor for their relationships,I think one the reasons Tashi is with Art is because she can still talk with him in some way the same language of what she loved the most that is tennis,for her tennis is a relationship,like being in love, understanding each other, and we saw it since their first conversation,Art wanting to talk about points or noticing her scream or connecting with both playing in Stanford, Art falling for her after watching her play and noticing her backhand. And may be Art losing passion for tennis is a metaphor for their marriage crumbling,because he and Tashi weren't talking the same language anymore. But also during all their relationship Tashi couldnt give everything from herself to Art because she couldnt play tennis anymore,she is giving what she can. So how didn't he love tennis like Patrick but just had discipline all his life?

I don't agree with this idea of Tashi comes back to Patrick because he had the passion and love for tennis that Art didn't have,at contrary I think she isn't with Patrick because she felt Patrick's didn't love tennis enough,how can you love something and not have commitment to it, and commitment to tennis is also a metaphor to comminment to a relationship with her.But Tashi is fire and ice,so she live with each of them very different aspects of her,not that fire is just the real her or that is the only side with passion and love for tennis. Oh god this is so long !😅

#challengers #art donaldson #tashi donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi #tashi duncan

96 notes · View notes

anarchy-and-piglins · 1 day

Note

Fun AU time! Call it an "adopted introvert" au!

Technoblade is alone and alone is how he likes it. Absolutely. He's not lonely. Not at all. He just likes spending his time adventuring! Can't have friendships when you are adventuring, it takes too much time.

Anyways, Technoblade is exploring a fortress when he comes across a strange room. It has some kind of altar thingy? Its ancient. He is looking around it when he accidentally bumps into something. Sets off a Mummy-style rube Goldberg machine that breaks a vase hanging above the altar.

Out pops a flustered blond man with massive black wings, blinking at Technoblade with confusion.

The guy opens his mouth to speak and Technoblade books it. Conversation can't get him if he runs. Take that, socialization.

Technoblade runs for a while, stops to breath and check behind him to see if the guy is following him. He sees no one and turns back around.

Blond man is grinning at him, covered head to toe in soot.

His name is Philza. Technoblade didn’t ask, but the guy introduced himself. He was sealed up in that vase for REASONS. Philza does not explain those reasons, but Technoblade doesn't ask. Mostly because Techno is doing his best to jog away. Philza doesn't let him. Philza basically shouts at him that now that Techno freed him, Philza is bound to follow him everywhere. Techno is frozen in place by that. Oh no, he's been cursed with company. The absolute worst.

Techno finally stops to ask how to undo it. Philza is giddy as he tells Techno a variety of very silly tasks he needs to do to have them split.

Technoblade sighs and agrees, heading off in a direction as Philza chats with him.

Here's the thing. Philza lied. They are not bound together. Philza just got trapped because he was a bit too silly and MAY have caused a civil war in the nether. But he's just a silly guy! He's just having a fun time, living his best life. Not his fault people can't take a little bit of mischief and decided to seal him away. He was just having fun.

His fun DOES have a body count, but that just shows he is the LIFE of the party.

Anyways, Techno and Phil travel together. Sometimes, Techno feels like he should leash Philza because the man keeps doing ridiculous things (PLEASE do not steal all the saddles in the village, Phil! We can't do this!). However, Philza is also pleasantly surprised about Techno's streaks of chaos. If anyone tries to imply Techno CAN'T do something, you better believe he's gonna. (No, Techno, you can't sit in the shiny gold chair. Its reserved for the mayor-PLEASE STOP OVERTHROWING THE MAYOR!)

Philza loves this about Techno. They both can be so chaotic. But Philza also loves how Techno seems to mellow him out, to. Philza doesn't feel the constant need to DO. To EXPERIENCE. He can just...fish by the lake with his bestie. Its nice.

Phil eventually comes clean about not being bound. Of course, he comes clean about this AFTER Technoblade wears sliced potatoes in his socks for 3 days, one of the "trials" he made up at the start. Techno is quiet at first about that, and Philza is very nervous he just lost his only true friend.

Techno shrugs and says he should have seen that coming. Betrayal, from his new best friend! How could he? The audacity of this man! The cruelty! The gall! Techno goes on and on until Philza is laughing at Techno's dramatics. Techno jokingly asks how he can seal Philza back in a jar for this affront. Maybe a chicken canning company? Philza is so relieved that Techno isn't mad.

And Techno isn't. He had spent enough time with Philza to know when the man was lying. It became clear that Philza was bull shitting him. He had his suspicions for a while. But the company was NICE. Like a missing piece. He felt so much calmer and happier. What's one lie?

Techno declares that Philza can only make it up to him if he does all the trials that he convinced Techno to do. Philza tries to argue against this, but Techno is deadset. And Technoblade is so stubborn that eventually gives in.

Phil's going to regret making Technoblade speak backward for a week. Phil can't even read, how do backward words work???

Anyways, silly little thought! Just a fun Emduo having goof time.

Phil really thought going about making friends in the most fae way possible was a good idea and Techno's like "sure lmao" I love them <3

#technoblade #philza #thoughts #asks #lenn takes the mic

74 notes · View notes

cacoetheswriting · 1 day

Text

celebrity skin. (part nine)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 4.6k summary: an album release forces some feelings and conversations — one thing's for sure though, Eddie will always be thinking about you.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

“We are here this morning with a true music icon in the making, who’s hits like Compromising Positions and most recently Honesty took the world by storm. Now, Eddie Munson is just a few short days away from releasing his sophomore album with his Corroded Coffin bandmates, Assistance is Futile. Welcome to Eddie Munson everybody, yes!”

“Happy to be here, Charles.”

Good Morning America was definitely not the type of talk show the rockstar pictured himself ever getting invited on. He didn’t think his personal style, or the music he was putting out there with the band, would be something the producers would welcome. Considering especially the whole thing was televised live. No cuts, no edits, no take backs. Whatever is said remains out there forever. Quoted and interpreted until the next schmuck makes a fool of himself.

Hosts, Charles Gibson and Joan Lunden, were also known to be quite blunt with their guests. Blunt, but not in the rude sense of the word. Given their history on the network, their experience, they're simply good at what they do, which sometimes means effortlessly picking at a topic until they get a satisfactory reaction or better yet, television worthy answer. Of course there’s always a list of pre-agreed questions, carefully discussed with management and PR teams, but things have known to… slip out.

But Marianne trained him. Extensively. She flew out to New York the second this interview was arranged and spent hours in Eddie’s penthouse hotel room going over details that to most people, people not from this world, may seem minor: how to sit, how to smile, what to laugh at, the amount of seconds it should take him to answer a question. The list goes on. And now she was here, at the studio, to make sure Eddie saw a friendly face in the crowd. Someone to look at in case he got flustered at any point during the fifteen minute round.

“Before we get into the nitty gritty,” Joan begins, crossing one knee over the other, “Eddie, why don’t you tell us a little about how you and the band first got started?”

So Eddie talks. He’s charming as he tells the story, sparing a few details ‘cause he knows he doesn’t have a lot of time. He does however, crack a few jokes, including one about the list of names Gareth and Jeff brought to him one night before they all agreed on Corroded Coffin. Charles laughs before asking the next question about the band's success so far, and what he makes of it.

“Oh man, it’s so insane,” Eddie answers truthfully, “I still have days where I don’t think any of this is real. All of us in the band feel incredibly lucky, for sure.” He nods along as he speaks.

Joan and Charles take turns asking a few more general questions about the band plus the other members who couldn’t make it out today, before settling on the whole reason Eddie agreed to do this interview in the first place: promotion for the new album.

Assistance is Futile was a collection of songs about you — but that was not going to be an answer he gives today, accidentally or otherwise. Instead, the rockstar focuses attention on how the record was built. Technical language that he dumbs down slightly to make sure he’s continuously captivating his audience (Marianne’s advice). He tells them what instruments the group played around with that may not have featured on their last album, which was more classic rock than this new project. And he’s excited as he talks. Passionate.

He continues to lay out the facts. List the number of tracks it features, eleven plus two bonus songs on the extended version. He talks about the writing process, still carefully avoiding mentioning the influence. He won’t say he wrote them all during the aftermath of your breakup. He hasn’t even admitted that to you, despite the fact that you spent every waking moment together since the afternoon at Cove City Sound Studios. He knows he won’t be able to hide that for much longer, but until the album comes out and you hear the songs for yourself, he’ll keep it to himself because things have been so… great.

Sure, things weren’t back to normal. It can’t be the way it was until Eddie finds the time to speak with your management and nip this whole evil grandmother blackmail thing in the bud. At least he’s got you in some capacity. He gets to talk to you again, laugh with you. He gets to hug you, kiss you, touch you. Friends with benefits, or whatever the term is. Eddie’s just glad to be around you.

“Now, here at the studio, we got an exclusive, sneak peak listen to Assistance is Futile, and there’s a little bit of speculation between the crew about the meaning behind some of the songs.”

Boom. There it is. The dreaded topic. And it was going so well.

“Care to share where the inspiration for these lyrics struck you? Who, in particular, they might be about?”

Eddie smiles. “Give into the charade”, Marianne’s words ring in his ears, “But by any means, don’t confirm their suspicions”. Not an easy task. A slippery slope by all accounts. He ever so slightly glances in the direction of his manager who nods her head to show encouragement.

“Who do you think they’re about, Joan?” Eddie bounces the question back.

The presenter smiles. She knows she shouldn’t say. Yes, it would be good for ratings, but bringing up your name is not something that can be done lightly. She knows that. Hence why Joan hoped Eddie Munson wouldn’t be smart enough to avoid the initial question. But the rockstar’s been trained and he’s not about to mess up with two minutes to spare.

“Well, I’d say my friend Charles here. He’s got, what was that one lyric, legs for days and a wicked smile.” Joan deflects. Ever the professional.

The whole studio starts laughing. Eddie joins in, satisfied with the way this worked out.

“You’d be right on the money there, Joan.” The rockstar nods with a wide smile before continuing, “Charles Gibson has been a constant inspiration for Corroded Coffin songs. There’s not a lot to do in Hawkins, where we grew up. Gotta write what you know and my uncle has an affinity for this show.”

He turns to the camera to say hi to Wayne, “I know you’re watching.”

Then shifts to look at the hosts once more, winking at the gentleman sitting across from him.

“Charles, you sexy devil, you.”

The laughter continues. People start to clap, whistle along to Eddie’s perfectly curated response. Marianne is beaming with pride because for a brief moment, she didn’t think he could do it. There've been so many mishaps in the past, wild things the band — the curly-haired frontman in particular — have done that she’s had to either smooth over with the media or keep hidden from the public altogether. This morning she finally exhaled. He did well.

You’re laughing too. Feeling proud too as you watch him through your television screen, just like you promised Eddie you would.

Blanket covering your body, all the way up to your chin, as you sit comfortably on the couch. The smile on your face is as genuine as they come. He’s so good at this. Considering how nervous he was, how much time he spent with Marianne going over every possible scenario until his head hurt. You took a mental note to tell him later that he really had nothing to worry about. He’s a natural.

The question about his inspiration for the album didn’t surprise you. It’s pretty standard for these types of press junkets. Even more given the fact your relationship has been the talk of the town for months, especially when the two of you weren’t even together. People love to speculate.

When Eddie told you about the upcoming album, one night after you came down from another intense orgasm, you assumed he wrote about your relationship — especially the failures. Honesty came to the rockstar after only one night. Makes sense that a complete record would be next. He didn’t confirm it though, because you didn’t ask. You would know once it came out, when you purchased your own copy to listen through. Artists supporting artists, and whatnot.

“Corroded Coffin’s Assistance is Futile. Coming to a record store near you, this Thursday, October 14.” Charles Gibson announces, holding up a shiny compact disc to one of the cameras, showing off the album’s cover art: a thundering night sky, with something sinister looming inside the blood red clouds. An ode to the band's Dungeons & Dragons days.

“Eddie Munson, thank you for your time today.” Joan Lunden flashes a pearly white smile.

The rockstar returns the expression. “Thank you for having me.”

Backstage, Eddie gives Marianne a big hug. Thanking her for being here. While returning the embrace, she reassures him that’s never going to change. “Or at least until the contract ends,” his manager teases and ruffles his already wild hair before sitting down on the velvet sofa.

“So, tell me, am I flying back to LA alone?”

Eddie picks up a bag of previously opened Funyuns before leaning against the vanity. He shuffles the remainder of the onion-flavoured corn chips inside the plastic, then starts eating them, one by one.

“Yeah,” he says, shrugging as if it was an obvious answer. “We’ve got the release party for the album. The guys would kill me if I missed it.”

“I’d kill you first.”

He smirks. “Then why ask me the question?”

Marianne gives him a pointed look. One that says, no, screams, he of all people should know why. Eddie got on a private plane to New York so he could “sort something out”, then ended up staying for weeks longer than intended with no explanation. Marianne called him at the hotel multiple times, asking for a return day, but he always gave a vague answer. Then Gareth called, as did Jeff (who sort of already suspected the reason for the delayed homecoming, kudos to Holly), but Eddie continued on the road of avoidance, all while Page Six posted about sightings of him with a certain pop sensation.

“Eddie, you haven’t been this happy since—”

“I know,” he interrupts, “I know and yes, to whatever you’re thinking, but I don’t wanna talk about it now because there’s something I need to do first.”

“What do you need to do?” She asks, puzzled because in the time they’ve worked together, the rockstar has never once left her out of action. She did everything for him. That was her job. One she did gladly because she’s grown to care for these boys.

Eddie sighs, wiping his crumb covered hands on the material of his trousers. The bag of chips lays empty on the table next to him. Of course he contemplated telling Marianne everything on multiple occasions, but each time he chickened out at the last minute. He knew she could fix everything in the blink of an eye. Simply, the rockstar just didn’t feel worthy of that.

His entire life, Eddie ran away. From situations, from people, from feelings. Anything that was messy, or just became messy. He ran until the distance felt comfortable enough to continue with his life. Growing up in Hawkins, he didn’t have a Marianne. He didn’t have anyone that would stand up for him, so running became second nature. Running fixed his problems.

By the time the band hit stardom, running turned to escapism in the form of drugs and alcohol. The bubble. Under the influence, the rockstar didn’t care who cleaned up after him and Marianne was so good at her job that most of the time, Eddie didn’t even know there was a problem to run from until it was resolved.

The situation with your grandmother however, was different. It involved you.

He gave into his instincts and ran. Only this time, Eddie ran to protect you. Threats were made to potentially ruin your career — fucked up, considering the person that made them was also the person who helped kick-start your fame. And as selfish as he may seem to people that don’t know the real him, the rockstar wasn’t willing to gamble everything you built for yourself. He ran.

But Eddie was done running. He was going to fix this and he planned on doing it alone.

“What’s going on?” Marianne stands and takes a step closer, crossing her arms. Concern is starting to fill her veins, though she’s trying her best not to show it. Trying and failing.

Maybe solving this alone wasn’t the way to go.

“Someone’s been blackmailing me,” he admits eventually, reluctantly.

“What?!” Marianne just about shouts. “Who? For how long?”

“It’s uh…. It’s a complicated story.”

“Well, fuck.” She’s slightly annoyed ‘cause how could he have hidden something like this from her? This is why the band has her. Managing them, planning shit to maintain their career is only a small part of her job. Protecting these boys is a priority and blackmail is a big fucking deal.

Exhaling, Marianne lets her arms drop and proceeds to take a much less confrontational stance.

“Eddie, you know I’ve always got nothing but time for you, so spill.”

And he does. Starting right at the beginning with Chrissy Cunningham.

When Eddie stops by your place later that afternoon, he kisses you, the second you open up your apartment. He kisses you fully, deeply. He’s kicking the door closed with his boot, lips continually locked together, his hands holding you firmly by the waist. A man on a mission and the mission being to make you feel like you're floating all the damn time.

You smile against his soft lips. Mission accomplished.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

“Hello,” he whispers back, also smiling. “How was your morning?”

“Not nearly as interesting as yours,” you answer his question and turn in your spot, wanting to lead him to the couch. Eddie’s hands remain on your waist as you do so, no inclination of letting go.

MTV is on. The wild-haired rockstar instantly feels at home — a stark contrast to that first night he showed up at your door. Adrenaline pumping. Unsure of the outcome. But it was better than he could’ve imagined, dreamed. Back in your arms with little to no arguments. Back where he for sure belonged.

Honesty comes on. The video makes him smile as he effortlessly pulls your legs over his thighs, hand settling on your soft flesh and giving it a gentle squeeze. The memory of that day with you on set. Eddie wouldn’t call it acting. Hugging you, kissing you on camera. Not a tough act. Natural, actually. That was a good day. You’re thinking it too.

“Magnetic.”

“Huh?”

Eddie can’t tear his eyes away from the screen. “You’re magnetic. Utterly. I almost forgot, but I didn’t really, you know? I-I think about that day often and how much fun it was,” he rambles. It’s sweet.

“But what I replay in my mind the most is how fucking talented you are, sweetheart. A goddess in front of a camera, I swear.”

You smirk, your own mind flying to something much, much dirtier than what Eddie meant, and he flicks your leg at the institution, all while glancing at you from the corner of his brown eyes. Because there was a video camera left under the rockstars California King bed with a tape inside, a tape that could get you both — although the sexist industry you’re lucky to be a part of would blame only you, mainly — in a lot of trouble, if it ever saw the light of day. A tape for private eyes only. And Eddie wasn’t wrong, you were near damn a goddess.

“Wish we could work together again,” he says, then quickly adds, “Professionally, sweetheart, before you get any kinky ideas.”

That makes you laugh.

“Think you should focus on the album the band is about to release, hotshot. Once that’s a sure hit, then we can talk about doing something together.”

“Well, there is a box in my room, back in LA, with notebooks full of songs…”

He’s trying to be encouraging. Motivational. Really what Eddie’s doing is building up the courage to ask you to go back to Los Angeles with him. In a complete roundabout way, to be honest. The guys would call him a pussy. He was being a pussy. There was however, a lot he still needed to tell you. This whole thing with your grandma, for one. But Marianne was handling that now, and once she gave him the agreed upon sign, there was nothing stopping Eddie from screaming he loves you from all available rooftops — which he hoped to do for the first time at the place you two officially met.

And with his manager on the case, he knew it would be sooner rather than later.

“Eddie, you’re a dumbass.” Marianne states. There’s a frown on her face, but it’s not serious. Accompanied by a smile that’s giving him a little bit of hope.

“I know—”

“No,” she interrupts, “You don’t.”

He exhales. “I do, though.”

“Eddie. If you came to me when this first happened, you would’ve never lost all this time with Little Miss Perfect. The fact that you didn’t, the fact that you didn’t trust me with this information, makes you a dumbass.”

“So, you can fix this?”

“There’s a little thing called a Cease and Desist,” Marianne says as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. And in a way, it is. “No one is going to threaten the career of my favourite client and get away with it.”

Eddie smiles. Genuinely. Something reminiscent of relief is flowing through his body, down to the tips of his toes, until he no longer feels heavy. The burden of this situation is slowly lifting.

“With your permission, I’d like to approach her team with this information. They’ll most likely also issue a cease and desist, so that her career is also protected.” Marianne says. “But I guess since all you’ve tried to do is keep her out of harm’s way, the only way you knew how, I’m assuming I have your permission without even asking for it?”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” He’s repeating over and over and over, wrapping his arms around Marianne. A hug they’d both cherish forever.

“Like I said, let’s get you to survive this record release first, okay?”

You’re looking at each other now.

“Take it day by day, Eds.”

“What if I want to skip ahead?”

There’s a lot hiding behind that question. The future is uncertain in many ways. He knows that he wants you, you know that you want him. That’s enough, but at the same time it isn’t. Day by day is easier than thinking about tomorrow, or the next day. He just loves you, which he’ll tell you soon. That’s what he wants to skip too.

On the other hand, you’re terrified. Giving into him again brought no shortage of anxiety about his past behaviour. Eddie Munson hurt you, twice. Second time worse than the first. You forgave him, yet the fear was still there. The question remained: what if he did it again? He wouldn’t, but what if he did? So taking it day by day, as it came, was easier. A shield, of sorts. Protection against hurt.

Also, it was a lot more fun to act without consequence. To just be.

Existing with him felt almost normal, even though there was nothing normal about the various interviews and photoshoots the rockstar has been doing promoting Assistance is Futile while in New York, or the long phone calls with his manager and bandmates in preparation for the release party. Nothing normal about your own career, which you’ve slowly been defrosting following the short heartbreak hiatus. Pivoting slightly towards acting as a new form of expression. So you’re reading scripts, rehearsing lines. All without expectations. Day by day.

“Skipping ahead means you, going back to LA for the release party,” you point out.

“You could come with me. The invitation is there, you know that.”

“There’s nothing I’d want more than to be there for you and the guys, Eddie, you know that.” You lean in closer, pressing your body weight into his. “But if I make an appearance, it will overshadow the album you worked really hard on and that’s not fair.”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, pressing his lips to the side of your head, leaving a soft kiss while inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. He slowly nods against you, understanding your point of view.

“So we won’t see each other for a while then, huh?”

“Well, I got that recurring part in Law & Order which is filming here, so that’s a couple of months, at least, that I’ll be stuck here in New York.”

“I can visit,” he jumps in almost instantly, “And you, maybe… You can come out to see me whenever you have breaks in filming?”

“Sounds good, Eds.”

There’s a moment of silence. It shifts towards the heavy side. Eddie’s biting his tongue. He wants so badly to tell you everything he’s been keeping secret, but he knows it’s not a good idea until Marianne confirms she’s consulted your team and the cease and desist letters have been sent out. He’s just not ready to say goodbye yet. Not even for a little while. He just got you back. You’re also lost in thought. Reuniting with the Corroded Coffin frontman has been nothing short of a rollercoaster, in the best way possible. Having him here, next to you once more, kissing and touching you. And you know it was limited. That time would come knocking and he’d have to go back, while you’d need to stay. Bittersweet would be the word to describe how you feel.

“How about we focus on right now, hm?” You offer, lifting your head so that your sweet gaze catches his chocolate one. Then a short inhale later, you kiss him. Gentle, at first, although not quite a peck. His eyes close on impact as his hand reaches for your face, attaching itself like a magnet. Cradling, squeezing your cheeks.

And you smile. Fucking smile. Eddie loves it when you smile while kissing him. It drives him crazy knowing his touch makes you that happy. So he can’t help but smile too. Teeth knocking against each other in the process.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” the rockstar admits.

“I’ll never get tired of kissing you, Eddie Munson.”

The hand that held his toned abdomen just a mere second ago is now not so innocently sliding in a downward trajectory. You fiddle with his leather belt, unbuckling it rather effortlessly with one hand after you press your lips against his once more. Deeper this time. Wanting.

“But distracting me from a conversation about what’s mph… next,” he mumbles as you tug at his zipper. You’re not giving him a chance to breathe. “Isn’t going to - Jesus - work.”

“Okay,” you’re teasing. It’s a whisper and Eddie’s brain short circuits ‘cause your perfectly manicured fingers are sliding into his boxers, reaching for his semi.

“So, you guys are like back together now, huh?”

Steve’s question lingers in the air for a moment. He’s glancing at his small-town friend turned worldwide phenomenon from across the table, swirling black coffee in his takeaway cup.

Eddie looks out the window at the clouds passing by.

After getting over his initial fear of flying, since he hadn’t been on a plane until his early twenties, the rockstar decided he enjoyed it a lot more than he thought he would. Things were peaceful up here — especially since he could now afford private jets. Just him and his guitar. Even when he travelled together with the guys, they all got lost in their own thing too, as did Marianne.

The upcoming release party however, prompted an invite to his little sister as well as Steve. So he knew that unfortunately this trip wasn’t going to be a quiet one.

“Something like that,” Eddie answers, turning his attention back to his friend.

Harrington nods. “That’s good, man. She’s great.”

“That she is.” Eddie fails to contain a smile.

“I’m happy for you.” Steve’s words are genuine.

“Thanks, dude.”

The short exchange is interrupted by Max’s snort. The two boys look at the redhead currently splayed out on one of the recliner seats. A book in her lap, one that she’s not really reading, but she’s keeping up appearances anyway.

“To think we wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius,” she retorts, a smirk now present on her face.

Eddie laughs lightly, but doesn’t say anything. He’s looking out the window again. His mind turns to you. He misses you, even though he saw you not even a half hour ago when you said goodbye before he got on the plane. He misses you. Anxiety building since neither of you are really sure when you’d be able to see each other next. “And that’s okay,” is what you said to him in between soft kisses. He’s repeating it now.

“She’s not coming to the party, right?” Red asks her older brother, briefly breaking Eddie away from his thoughts.

The rockstar shakes his head. “No.”

“You’ll see her soon,” his sister reassures, reaching for his forearm across the aisle, squeezing.

“I know, I know.”

“Then why the sad face?” Steve points out.

Eddie wishes he was alone. Then no one would be questioning him, even though he knows it’s coming from a good place. They just care, he tries to level his emotions, they’re asking because they care.

“Our last goodbye wasn’t so good,” he answers plainly.

Luckily both Max and Steve understand. They exchange a glance between themselves before returning to whatever activity they were engaging in prior to the start of this conversation: Red buries her head in the book she wasn’t really reading and Harrington resumes listening to music on his Walkman.

Eddie is once again glancing out the small jet window. He’s once again thinking about you.

And he continues to think about you when the plane lands. In the car, on the way to his Hidden Hills home. He continues to think about you when the house fills with people that are there to style him for the release party. He’s making small talk, his mind still centred on you.

You remain the centre of his attention, even when Eddie and the band arrive at the venue, and he’s being ripped ten thousand different directions. Picture here, sign this, talk to this person. He enjoys a drink and he’s still thinking about you. He’s wishing you were here.

The guys are introduced to come up on stage and even though Eddie is on cloud nine for this release, super proud of the record they put together, he’s wishing you were here to celebrate this with him.

He thinks about you as he sings one of the songs. Breaking News — a song about you, of course.

There comes a point during the night, a split second during which Eddie stops thinking about you. Not for any particular reason. Nothing spectacular happens for him to do so, he just… does. But it’s only a fleeting moment. He regrets it as soon as he realises. He especially regrets it when Marianne approaches him, a concerned look spread across her usually composed features — although the rockstar doesn’t pick up on her expression immediately.

“What did you think of the performance?” Eddie asks, smiling wide.

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she reaches for the half-empty glass in his hand and sets it aside before exhaling a sigh.

He furrows his brows, the smile fading as quickly as it appeared.

“Eddie, there’s been an accident.”

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

& tagging some cool ppl that expressed interest: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie, @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @ohmeg , @hereforshmut , @eg-dr3amer3 (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #rockstar!eddie x you #eddie munson story #eddie munson series #celebrity skin.

84 notes · View notes

kokoch4n3l · 2 days

Text

ˏˋ main yahaan hoon ࿐ྂ "I'm in the lights of your eyes, you see me wherever you look"

summary: in which you meet Sano Manjiro a month before your wedding and fall in love. you didn't realize you fell in love with him till the pre-wedding rituals began.

pairing(s): bonten!mikey x desi!reader

notes: title translates to 'I'm here'. a purely self-indulgent fic based on Veer-Zaara(2004)'s song Main Yahaan Hoon if Veer was a gang leader and was actually at the wedding instead of Zaara hallucinating him. line dividers by rookthornesartistry heart divider by cafekitsune

warnings: infidelity, cheating, arranged marriages, implied emotionally absent parents, emotional blackmail, suggestive themes, implied oral(f), manjiro carries reader, slightly open ending

word count: 5690

Your father was a politician, businessman and just well very rich. You’re his only daughter so he spoils you rotten. Giving you all the things you can ever want. He was a good man, your mother a great person too. However, it wasn’t a very emotionally fulfilling relationship. You were okay with it though. Jewels and clothes sated the ache in your heart even if it was temporary. You got engaged almost as soon as you turned of age. The man was just a little bit older and also a politician like your father. Arranged marriages were common in your culture and you had never dated before anyway. It’s about a month before the wedding you meet Sano Manjiro. You aren’t sure what he does but he’s also really rich like your father. He has a few close business associates and they all have matching full moon hanafuda tattoos. Sanzu Haruchiyo let you trace his tattoo for some reason after seeing your fascination with it.

Bonten were business associates of your father. You weren’t sure exactly for what but you also couldn't care less. They were all pretty fun people. You made them watch Bollywood movies with you and do a whole bunch of other things and they did it without any complaint and seemed to enjoy it as well. They were all cool and then there was Sano Manjiro…

Sano Manjiro was different from the rest. He had a quiet intensity about him, a presence that demanded attention without a single word. You noticed his eyes first—dark, deep, and endlessly contemplative. He was always observing, absorbing everything around him with a sharp, discerning gaze. Despite his quiet demeanour, there was something undeniably magnetic about him. At first, you thought he wouldn’t be putting up with your childish games but he proved you wrong. When you called him a stupid idiot he didn’t get mad but instead, he smiled. He was amused. For some reason, it surprised you because he didn’t seem like the type to smile or just show any kind of emotion in general.

Your father, of course, invites them all to your wedding. It was all fine but you don’t want to marry your fiancé. He was nice at first but there was something about him that put you off. You didn’t like that man. You sit in your father’s office in your engagement outfit while music echoes from the bottom floor of the mansion to the top. A white lengha with intricate embroidery adorns your figure with a full-sleeve blouse along with a diamond necklace gifted by your future mother-in-law and a matching tikka in the same style resting in the center of your forehead. Your dupatta is draped over your head and right now it feels too heavy. Although you and your fiancé were already engaged, your mother-in-law insisted on having a flashy ceremony to kick start the wedding week. “You’re my only child… Hence, I’ve pampered you and given you freedom” Your father says, his hands clasped behind his back and using his businessman voice “I haven’t raised you like a girl but like a boy”

There is a lump in your throat. You know if you speak you’ll cry. Your father walks toward you. “Usually the mother has to explain to her daughters about her duties. But since I think of you as my son, I’ll explain your duties to you”

You look up at him. You’re sitting in his chair the same way you would when you were a child. But unlike back then, your bare feet press flat against the hardwood floor. “You already know that your grandfather was a respected politician. But he died a few days before he could attain success. Since that day, as his heir, I’ve been trying to take his party to great heights but I’ve been unsuccessful so far” He says and you know already what he will say next “But with the help of your finacé’s father, I can attain that success”

You don’t feel too good. The lump in your throat gets bigger and you desperately try to swallow it. Your father turns your back to you, staring at your family picture. “Soon you’ll get married into their family. It’s your duty…” He pauses and turns to look at you again “...to understand the importance of this relationship. Spread happiness, whether the times are good or bad and strengthen the bond of every relationship and to protect the honour of both families at all costs. A small mistake or a bit of carelessness from your end could ruin everything… I hope you understand what I’m trying to say.”

He knows, he knows, he knows. Your father had a feeling you no longer wished to marry the man you were betrothed to. You swallow the lump in your throat and whisper out a pitiful “yes.”

“Is there anything you wish to say?”

You simply shake your head no. You couldn’t. You had to marry this man even if you didn’t want to. Your father was practically begging you without actually begging. He smiles. “Come here”

You stand up, your anklets jingle with each step you take. “It’s been so long since I saw my daughter smile,” He says as you now stand in front of him “I hope you haven’t left it in Japan”

You smile weakly. How were you to tell him you did? How do you tell your father you left your heart in Japan? He pulls you in for a hug and a single tear runs down your cheek.

You did not wish to marry the man you were promised to but you didn’t want to break your father’s heart either.

Your father leads you down the large marble staircase, the railing covered with flowers and the entire bottom floor decorated lavishly. The vibrant colours and festive sounds of the pre-wedding celebration fill the air, yet your heart feels heavy with an unspoken sorrow. As you descend the staircase, your eyes scan the crowd, seeking a familiar face—a face that brought unexpected joy and confusion to your life. In the midst of the lively guests, you spot Sano Manjiro standing quietly at the edge of the room with his associates. He is dressed in beige slacks and a silk back button-up shirt, his presence commanding even in the bustling environment. His eyes meet yours, and for a brief moment, the noise around you fades. His gaze, deep and inscrutable, seems to reach into the very depths of your soul. The rituals proceed with the grandeur expected of such an event. The music, the dancing, the laughter—all blend into a blur as your mind drifts back to the times spent with Manjiro and his associates. The times when you could be yourself when you laughed genuinely and felt a connection beyond words. Sanzu Haruchiyo, always mischievous yet kind, had once teased you about your fascination with their tattoos. “Do you want one too?” he joked, letting you trace the lines of the intricate hanafuda design.

You had laughed, but deep down, there was something about those moments that felt more real than anything else in your life. As you and your fiancé exchange rings, you feel Manjiro’s eyes on you, a silent support that gives you strength. The night progresses, and you find yourself stealing glances at him, your heart aching with an unspoken truth. You didn’t want this arranged marriage. You wanted something more, something that only he seemed to understand.

It feels stupid though. It’s probably a simple infatuation but oh you had never felt this way in your life before and even as your fiancé slides the engagement ring onto your finger, the only thing that goes through your mind is Manjiro.

You sit alone in your room late at night on your bed, too lazy to sit at your dresser. Your dupatta was carelessly discarded at the foot of your bed as soon as you entered your room, too lazy to even remove your lengha and get in bed. The day had been tiring. You start to remove your jewelry, starting with the large diamond necklace that felt way too heavy. It’s as you are taking off the tikka from your forehead that someone enters. You don’t need to look up to know who it is. The air shifts, and the familiar, intense presence washes over you. It’s Manjiro. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You shake your head, not trusting yourself to speak. He steps closer, his movements silent on the plush carpet. He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, watching as you fumble with the clasp of your tikka. Your fingers tremble, and the delicate piece slips from your grasp, falling onto your lap. “Let me,” he offers, reaching out. His hands are gentle but firm as he takes over, carefully removing the tikka and setting it aside.

His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, melting the anxiety and sorrow that had been weighing you down. “Thank you,” you manage to whisper, your voice barely audible.

He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. There’s a question in his gaze, an unspoken query that you can’t quite decipher. The silence between you is heavy with words left unsaid, emotions unacknowledged. “Why did you come here?” you ask, needing to break the silence, to understand why he’s here, why he makes you feel the way you do.

“I needed to see you,” he replies simply, his gaze steady. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His concern touches you deeply, and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. You blink them back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. Manjiro sits down next to you, being careful to not sit on your skirt. He reaches over and starts to remove your earrings. Despite his fingers being calloused and rough, his hands are gentle. He touches you like the slightest touch might break you. Each brush of his fingers against your skin feels like a promise, unspoken but powerful. You sit there, letting him help you, feeling a strange sense of peace settle over you. The weight of the day's events begins to lift, replaced by the warmth of his presence. When he's done, he sets the earrings aside and meets your gaze again. His eyes are filled with something you can't quite name, something that makes your heart beat faster. “Let’s get this off, hm?” Manjiro’s hand reaches around you and tugs the strings on the back of your blouse free

Your breath catches, but you nod, trusting him implicitly. The fabric loosens, and you feel the pressure on your chest easing. He helps you out of the heavy, ornate lengha, his movements were careful, his eyes never straying where they shouldn't. This was wrong. So wrong. You were a damn cheater. But as Manjiro unzips your blouse and pulls it off your arms, you can’t find yourself to care. “‘Jiro…” Your breath is shaky as he lowers your bare body down

“Don’t worry” he whispers, a heavy hand cupping your cheek so tenderly

Something in your head tells you it’s been years since this man was tender to anyone. Your breath hitches at the touch of his roughened palm against your cheek, a stark contrast to the softness in his gaze. Manjiro's thumb gently brushes away a stray tear that you hadn’t realized had fallen, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that seems to pierce through your very soul. "I shouldn't be here" you murmur, your voice barely audible, a mix of fear and yearning.

It was a little stupid you were even saying that since it was your own room. "But you want me here" he counters softly, not a question, but a statement of truth.

The words hang between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. Your heart beats wildly, torn between duty and desire. You don’t reply, unable to deny the truth in his statement. Manjiro’s presence is intoxicating, a dangerous allure that you find impossible to resist. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. "Tell me to leave, and I will," he whispers, his lips so close to yours that you can feel the heat of his words. "But if you want me to stay…"

You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The choice is yours, and you know what your heart wants. "Stay" you breathe, barely more than a whisper, but enough for him to hear and without missing a beat he slides your engagement ring off your finger

Manjiro doesn’t take your virginity that night. Instead, he calls you a good girl for saving yourself for after marriage and then gets down between your legs and ravishes you.

The next morning was the Haldi ceremony. In the ceremony turmeric paste would be smeared on your face and oil on your hair. It was more of a fun kind of thing anyway and during all the weddings you have attended in the past, all the guests would end up getting the turmeric paste all over themselves while playing around with it. You were wearing a yellow salwar kameez with flowers embroidered on the top and your dupatta was bright pink. You sit on the ground by the pool while your cousins hold up a heavier more embroidered dupatta over top of you like shielding you from the sky. “Don’t put too much” You warn your dad as he smears some of the turmeric paste on your cheek

There is oil dripping down your forehead from when your cousin decided he wanted to be funny and poured the entire bowl on your head. Tumeric paste is smeared on your feet, arms, cheeks and nose. The vibrant colours of the ceremony blur together, a swirl of yellow and pink, laughter echoing around you. Yet, despite the cheerful chaos, your mind is elsewhere, drifting back to the previous night. Manjiro's touch lingers on your skin like a haunting melody, one you cannot shake off no matter how hard you try. Your father's laughter brings you back to the present, his smile wide as he steps aside for the next relative to apply the turmeric paste.

As the ceremony continues, you feel a pair of eyes on you. You glance up and catch a glimpse of Manjiro standing a little away from the festivities, his usual quiet intensity softened by a hint of something tender. He stands apart from his associates, watching you with an unreadable expression. For a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you. The noise of the ceremony fades, replaced by the silent conversation happening between your gazes. Your heart beats faster as you remember his whispered promises from the night before. His words, his touch—they haunt you, make you question everything you thought you knew about your life and your impending marriage. You know it's reckless, dangerous even, to let yourself feel this way. But you can't help it. Not when his presence brings you a sense of peace and belonging you’ve never felt before. “This stuff smells weird” Koko comments as he crouches in front of you and smells the turmeric paste on his fingers before smearing it on your cheek “Are you sure this is safe for your skin?”

“Of course it is” you reassure with a smile

The rest of Bonten does the same. Finally, it’s Manjiro’s turn. He crouches down in front of you, an unknown emotion swirling in his eyes. Without a word, he takes the yellow paste and smears some on your right cheek then the left. His touch is gentle, yet it sends shivers down your spine, the same way it did the night before. The world around you seems to disappear as he smooths the paste over your skin, his eyes never leaving yours. The silence between you is filled with unspoken words, emotions too raw to be expressed in the midst of the celebration. Your heart pounds in your chest as his fingers linger on your skin, his touch both comforting and electrifying. "You look beautiful," he murmurs, his voice so low only you can hear.

His words are simple, but the intensity behind them makes your breath hitch. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the noise of the celebration.

You feel a blush creep up your cheeks, mixing with the turmeric paste. He offers you a small, almost shy smile, and for a moment, you see a vulnerability in him that he usually keeps hidden. You bring your hand up and smear the paste on his cheek too, making him laugh. His laughter is a rare sound, rich and deep, and it reverberates through you, filling your heart with warmth. You can't help but smile in response, your fingers lingering on his cheek for a moment longer than necessary. The world around you resumes its chaotic pace, but the connection between you and Manjiro remains, a silent promise amidst the noise and colour of the celebration.

As the Haldi ceremony continues, your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of your engagement ring, now conspicuously absent from your finger, feels like a liberation and a burden all at once. You glance at Manjiro again, finding comfort in his steady gaze. It’s as if he understands the turmoil within you without needing to ask.

As the ceremony comes to an end and the guests start to leave, you struggle to pick your dupatta off one of the chairs with your turmeric-covered hands. “Damn it” you mutter and look around for someone to help you

“Here you go” Rindo picks up your dupatta for you

You sigh in relief. “Thank you. Can you help me go up to my room?”

It was going to be a task going up to your room while covered in turmeric paste so you needed help. Rindo nods and offers you his arm, guiding you carefully through the crowd and up the stairs. The turmeric paste makes everything slippery, and you're grateful for his steady presence. As you make your way to your room, you can feel Manjiro's eyes on you, a silent promise of his support and understanding. Once inside your room, Rindo helps you sit on the edge of your bed, his touch careful and respectful. “Do you need anything else?” he asks, concern evident in his voice.

You shake your head, offering him a grateful smile, your eyes lingering for a moment of the front of his throat where the full moon hanafuda tattoo it etched then you look back up at his eyes. “No, thank you. I’ll manage from here.”

Rindo nods and leaves, closing the door softly behind him. You sit there for a moment, the events of the day and the night before swirling in your mind. You know you need to wash off the turmeric paste, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Manjiro. Eventually, you stand and make your way to the bathroom. The warm water washes away the turmeric, leaving your skin tingling and fresh.

Later that night was the mendhi ceremony. Your hands are covered in intricate designs of flowers and swirls made with henna all the way up to your elbows and your feet with the same. “Ma~” you whine to your mother who was too busy talking to her sister to feed you

Your mother laughs, a twinkle in her eye as she waves you off, engrossed in her conversation. You sigh, looking at the plate of food in front of you, and then at your hands, which are still wet with henna. The intricate designs are beautiful, but they make it impossible for you to eat on your own. You glance around the room, hoping to find someone to help you. Your eyes meet Manjiro’s from across the room. He’s standing with his associates, but his gaze is fixed on you, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips. Before you can beckon him over, he starts to walk towards you, effortlessly weaving through the crowd. He kneels down next to you, his presence a comforting weight. “Need some help?” he asks, his voice low and warm.

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “Yes, please. I can’t eat with this on.”

Manjiro picks up the spoon and gently lifts a small portion of food to your lips. His movements are careful, and deliberate, as if this simple act holds profound significance. You open your mouth, feeling a mix of embarrassment and gratitude. As he feeds you, you catch the subtle smirk on his face, and you can't help but smile back. “This is quite the look for you,” he teases, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Covered in henna and unable to eat by yourself.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, your voice playful. “This is supposed to be a special time, you know?”

“It is,” he agrees, his tone softening. “And you look beautiful.”

The sincerity in his words makes your heart skip a beat. You chew and swallow, the taste of the food mingling with the warmth spreading through your chest. Manjiro continues to feed you, the moment intimate despite the bustling celebration around you. Each spoonful feels like a silent promise, a shared secret that binds you closer together. “Food is spicy…” He murmurs

“You don’t like spicy food?” you ask him

He shakes his head no. “I like the sweets though… After you get married bring me some in Japan?” You laugh softly, the sound mingling with the music and chatter in the room. “Of course,” you promise, a warmth spreading through you at the thought of sharing such a simple pleasure with him. “I’ll bring you all the sweets you want.”

Manjiro's smile widens, a rare glimpse of genuine happiness on his usually stoic face. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, his gaze steady on yours. “But only if you promise to come back soon.”

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself nodding before you can even think. “I promise,” you say, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

The rest of the mendhi ceremony passes in a blur of laughter and music, but the memory of that moment with Manjiro lingers, a silent promise of things to come. As the night draws to a close, you find yourself reluctant to leave his side, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

It’s as you lay in bed and stare at your henna-stained hands, searching for your fiancé’s name among the intricate designs. But as you scan the patterns, your heart sinks, and a furrow forms on your brow. The once-clear inscription has been smeared beyond recognition, lost amidst the swirls of henna. A mix of emotions washes over you—relief, guilt, and a pang of sadness. Relief because it feels like a sign, a small reprieve from the impending marriage you’re dreading. Guilt because you know you shouldn’t feel relieved, and shouldn’t be hoping for a way out of a commitment you made. And sadness because despite everything, there’s a part of you that still longs for the simplicity of what could have been. You trace the faint outlines of the henna design, your mind swirling with conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The bond between you and Manjiro grows stronger with each passing moment, a silent promise of a future you never dared to imagine. But the reality of your situation weighs heavily on your shoulders, reminding you of the duty and obligations that bind you to your fiancé and your family.

With a heavy sigh, you curl your fingers into fists. The events of the day replay in your mind—the stolen moments with Manjiro, the whispered promises, the shared laughter. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—you’re falling for him, and there’s no turning back.

The next night is the ladies' sangeet. It’s the last thing left and the next morning is the wedding. You sit with all your female relatives as they sing and dance to old folk songs. You sit among them, a forced smile plastered on your face, your mind drifting to thoughts of the impending wedding. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation that feels suffocating. When no one is looking, you stand up and hed to the backyard where most your male relatives are, drinking away as usual. You can see Ran has unfortunately been cornered by one of your drunk uncles and is explaining Punjabi politics to him. Ran looks at you for help but you just grin and shake your head. You spot Manjiro walking over to you and you smile at him. “Hi” You say as you walk through the garden together, you anklets jingling with each step you take.

"Hi," Manjiro replies, his voice low and warm, a stark contrast to the chaos of the sangeet unfolding behind you. His presence brings a sense of calm, a welcome respite from the suffocating atmosphere of obligation and expectation.

You walk through the garden together, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm light over the flowers and foliage. The air is filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and roses, a stark contrast to the heavy perfume of the crowded hall. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders with each step, the knot of anxiety in your chest slowly unravelling in his presence. "Having fun?" Manjiro asks, his gaze steady on yours.

There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation. You shake your head, a wry smile playing on your lips. "Not exactly," you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "I feel like I'm suffocating in there."

Manjiro nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I can imagine," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper “Japanese weddings are not this… festive or colourful. Must be a little overwhelming”

You nod, grateful for his understanding. "It's not just that," you confess, your voice tinged with frustration. "It's the weight of expectation, the pressure to conform to tradition and duty." You pause, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "I feel like I'm being suffocated by it all."

Manjiro listens in silence, his gaze unwavering as he takes in your words. There's a depth to his understanding, a sense of empathy that makes you feel seen in a way you haven't felt in a long time. "I know what it's like to feel trapped," he says finally, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "To feel like you're living a life that's not your own."

His words strike a chord within you, resonating with the turmoil you've been feeling. "Do you ever wish things were different?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes. "All the time," he admits, his voice filled with honesty and you watch his hand come up to touch the full moon hanafuda tattoo on the back of his neck "But sometimes, we have to make the best of the hand we're dealt."

You nod in understanding, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart as you take in the vulnerability in Manjiro's words. His admission resonates with your own feelings of frustration and longing, the desire for a life beyond the confines of duty and expectation. "But that doesn't mean we have to give up hope," you say softly "We can still fight for what we want, for the freedom to live our lives on our own terms."

Manjiro's gaze meets yours, a flicker of something akin to hope dancing in his eyes. "And what do you want?" he asks, his voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to voice the question aloud.

You hesitate for a moment, the weight of your desires heavy on your shoulders. “I… I don’t know yet”

And Manjiro simply smiles at your answer and says “well clock is ticking… better hurry up and figure it out” then turns to go back to where he was sitting with your father, other business partners and relatives

As Manjiro walks away, leaving you alone in the tranquil garden, his words linger in the air, a gentle reminder of the urgency of your situation. The weight of expectation and duty presses down on you once more. You watch Manjiro's retreating figure, his silhouette illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, and you can't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within you. Despite the uncertainty of the future, one thing is clear—your heart is leading you towards him, towards a life of freedom and possibility.

You turn back towards the bustling sangeet, the music and laughter spilling out into the night air. Tomorrow is the wedding, the final culmination of weeks of preparation and anticipation. But as you rejoin the festivities, your mind is elsewhere, filled with thoughts of the man who has captured your heart and the future that awaits.

As the night wears on and the sangeet draws to a close, you find yourself lost in a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, apprehension, and a simmering sense of rebellion— something you shouldn’t be feeling. Tomorrow, you'll be bound to a man you don't love, forced into a life of duty and obligation. But tonight, in the quiet solitude of the garden, you allow yourself to dream of a different future, one where you're free to follow your heart, no matter where it leads.

As the first light of dawn breaks over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, you feel a sense of anticipation stirring within you. In a few hours, you’ll be married. It’s scary. So scary and you feel sick. You sit in a yellow kameez and white salwar, fingers trembling as you put on the naath, hooking it to your nose and fixing the chain over your ear to see how you look in it. The cool metal of the jewellery rests over your lips that you’ve bitten raw. Your makeup lays untouched, face bare. You need to start getting ready.

It’s the early hours of the morning, not many are awake except the servants who are getting the house ready. Your deep red wedding lengha is draped over your bed and seems to be mocking you. Your fingers linger on the intricate embroidery of the deep red lehenga, but the touch brings you no joy, only a sense of resignation. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, the naath adorning your face, you can't help but feel a sense of disconnect. The woman staring back at you seems like a stranger, a mere shell of the person you once were. The weight of the impending marriage hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you with its inevitability. It’s suffocating, and overwhelming, and you find it hard to breathe.

But then, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a sense of determination takes root within you. You refuse to let fear dictate your future, to surrender to the expectations of others. You may not know what lies ahead, but you know one thing for certain—you can't go through with this marriage. Your father may love you and only want the best for you but you are not a pawn in his plan to rule the world.

Gathering your courage, you make a decision—to follow your heart, no matter the consequences. It won't be easy, and there will be challenges ahead, but you refuse to let fear hold you back any longer.

As you slip out of your room after grabbing your yellow dupatta, the quiet of the early morning enveloping you like a comforting embrace, you feel a sense of liberation wash over you. It’s just as you make it past the hall, your anklets unfortunately still jingling with each step(you probably should have taken them off), you come face to face with Manjiro, Sanzu and Rindo. “Hm? And where do you think you’re going?” Manjiro asks and his hand comes up and lifts the naath up then lets it fall back in place resting over your upper lip

You freeze, caught off guard by the unexpected encounter. For a moment, you're at a loss for words, your mind racing to come up with an explanation. But as you meet Manjiro's gaze, you see something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the turmoil raging within you. "I..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I don’t want to get married"

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of your confession. You expect judgment, condemnation, but instead, there's only silence. Manjiro's gaze softens, a hint of something tender in his eyes as he reaches out to gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. “Hm?”

You let out a shaky breath, henna-covered hands clenching at your sides. “You asked me last night what I wanted and this is what I want…”

There is a moment of silence. Manjiro looks back at Sanzu and nods and the latter pulls out his phone, frantically typing away texts. “C’mon then” Manjiro says and sweeps you off your feet in the same way the male leads in Bollywood movies would

You aren’t sure how things will turn out but as Manjiro carries you down the marble staircase and into a car, you don’t think about anything else. Just him. Manjiro’s arms feel solid and reassuring around you as he carries you down the marble staircase, the weight of your decision becoming lighter with each step. The early morning light filters through the windows, casting a golden hue over everything, as if the world itself is blessing your choice.

As he sets you down into the backseat of a car Manjiro brushes a strand of your hair away from your face then kisses your forehead. “I’m here” he whispers

end notes: at the end, when Sanzu is on his phone, he's texting Koko to post a bunch of evidence of corruption that reader's fiancé’s family has done. Now MIkey could have done that before but he wanted it to be reader's choice so.... yeah. Hope you enjoyed it loll.

#tokyo revengers #mikey sano #mikey x reader #sano mikey manjiro #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers fandom #tokyo revengers x reader #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #kanto manji gang #tokyo revengers angst #bonten #bonten!mikey #bonten mikey #bonten x reader

75 notes · View notes

cubeofanhilation · 19 hours

Text

How I think dpxdc would go

The whole gang graduated high school, and one of them got an invite to Wayne gala (idk which yet) and they decide to make a whole trip out of it. So they all decide to sight see in the second most fucked up city, attempts to get her hands on fear toxin, Tucker tries to track down Oracle, Danny ends up accedentily fight crime,

Danny: *finishing up with some random mugging, and see’s Jason* yo why tf you dead

Jason, taken aback by the comment: *shoots him in the kneecap, and it goes right through Danny*

Danny: …

Jason: …

Danny: I'm going to take this as my que to leave *yeets outta there*

Jason: wtf

and Wes?He takes this as a fucking challenge, he tries to figure out who the batfamily is, so he purposely gets himself kidnapped so he can get a better look, and he immediately figures everything out, (they're bad at hiding it, and Wes is batshit insane, we love him for that). He meets Bernard around then, probably fresh out of kiddnapping (see previous post) Then they head to Wes’s uncle's house, and everyone

sees the E. Nygma on the mailbox and then Wes then casually reveals The Riddler is his uncle, and he's married to the penguin and everyones like “wow that explains a lot” then they end up playing some stupid game like clue or something, until it turns out the Quinnzels were coming for dinner. That includes, Harley Quinn Poison Ivy, Bud & Lou, and Tempest (long story as to why they're there, can elaborate if anyone's interested) Wes then proceeds to tell everyone he figured out all the bat identities (previously telling his friends, Danny first because he's in love), and the Riddler and the penguin start feeling awkward because now they're the only ones who don't know who batman is.

Then it's the next day, Tucker and Sam check out the sketchiest places because, it's fun, and surprises everyone (maybe including some of the batfamily) with how prepared they are to deal with this shit.

Danny and Wes go on a date because they're adorable. They end up getting lunch, then going out and stalking two-face, because Danny hates evil, and Wes doesn't trust lawyers. They easily stop him from robbing a bank or whatever, and th n the batfamily shows up and Wes is like “nope! Not being interrogated again!” Picks up Danny bridal style and runs away

Then comes the gala, first off

Babs: how would you know that I'm Oracle?

Tucker: my best friend is a mad lad, anyways-

*Cut to Wes hovering over Tim like “I k n o w w h a t y o u a r e!”*

Chaos breaks, shenanigans ensue, by the end the ghost gang ends up in the bat cave and they clear everything up, and maybe start an alliance, also Danny is like “dude the ectoplasm that resurrected you is not completely out of you're system in a healthy way yet! You gotta do something” and throws supplements at Jason.

#unidentified flying ship #DCU #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #wes weston #Tucker Foley #Tim drake #Bernard dowd #Jason Todd #batfam #This prompt is free for anyone to use #I might use it but I have writer's block rn :/#Amity Park is actually the most fucked up city in america #sorry guys #i should be asleep #I feel like Damian and Sam would be bros #Since they both hate humans and all

65 notes · View notes

svftloving · 3 days

Text

breakin their heart (pt 1)! yandere knights of favonius ଓ

tw. yandere, obsessive + posessive behavior, delusional behavior, clingyness, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, rumors & being pressured into things (reader)!

notes. rewritten based on the old post (which has been DELETED,, rip 😔 dw though the others are still privated) enjoy loves (and i hope you like this style of my writing!!) ♡

jean:

oh boy. she does NOT take it well. she's literally like :(( the whole time.

girl is trying her hardest to stay calm but it's hard 😔 the love of her life is literally leaving her,, how can someone not expect her to freak out?? she's trying her damn hardest to convince u to stay. it's her busy work schedule isn't it? she'll make time for you, she swears!! you can even stay in her office as she works if it's not possible. just don't go...

(jean doesn't come to the conclusion that no, her work is not one of the main reasons why you're trying to break up with her. it's her freakish obsessive behavior. and no, she probably won't ever come to that fact either. definitely gaslights herself and goes right back to thinking that her load of work is the main and ONLY reason why ur trying to leave).

when the words leave your lips, she's shaking. blunt and icy, jean's not used to u sounding so cold! her hands are trembling and she can't bear to look at you, drowning your words out because archons...she bear to look at you right now. she already knows that she'll break down into tears and start sobbing pathetically.

keeps quiet and most likely let's you leave with only a few pleading words. you deserve someone better, someone that actually has the time to love and care for you, but by the gods...she couldn't (and wouldn't) let that happen! you both belong together, even if you don't seem to see it.

(which is totally understandable, she gets it, she gets u! she'll be better just for you <3)

overloads herself with work, paperwork mostly. duties related outside remind her too much of you. she'll pass by windrise and literally start bawling (that tree over there was the same one where u both had you're first date!). the other knights are extremely worried about her, and it's not too hard to put the pieces together.

(lisa walked into her office once to her literally sobbing while holding a picture of you in her arms,, her sadness is very easy to see)

some of the knights try (maybe even forcefully hint at it too? they're desperate) to get you back with jean,, coming into ur house and informing you of her behavior. if that doesn't work, jean will...eventually take things into her own hands.

gifts and a overwhelming flow of letters sent to you are her ways of getting you back! ur door is practically loaded with stuff and you always end up tripping over something when you walk out the door. her gifts are sentimental and always (attempt) to alick a memory back into ur head.

(the pink roses she leaves you brings up the time she made a whole garden just for you, or the fancy set of jewelry u once mentioned that you wanted. she has a good memory and writes anything you mention you want down in case she forgets <3)

if you even show the slightest bit of fondness in her gifts/letters, jean immediately takes this as you wanting to get back together. and boy,, does she start amping her efforts up to 100%. i can see her also starting to act a little better and the other knights are just like 'jean seems to be getting better! we should try to help out so she's feeling better again!' and start pressuring you again. they, along with jean, are very persistent and won't stop until you get back with her :))

amber:

thinks ur very silly and just kisses your cheek! just another silly moment from her darling partner, you're hilarious! it'll take a while to convince her otherwise that no, you aren't being 'silly' right now and that you want to break up with her because she's an obsessed weirdo.

(and to stop trying to tickle u in an attempt to make you laugh. because she will definitely bounce on the fact as soon as she sees you start to crack a smile. she knew you were joking! you're smiling and everything!)

and even then, after showing her that you actually mean it, she's...laughing. it's strained and slightly nervous, but she's laughing. her lips twist into a (fake) smile and she justs itching to grab you. ur arm or anything! you have to be joking...right? her smile will widen into a grin that makes you uneasy, though u stay quiet.

opposite of jean completely, doesn't even try to hide how upset she is. just starts clinging into ur arm and begging and pleading for you to stay. oh archons, you can't leave her, please! please, don't go! please...? she begs of you...

you'll literally have to drag yourself back home with her clinging onto ur leg /hj. she will NOT let you leave omg 😭 on a serious note though you could probably just push her off (u gotta use your muscles her grip is tight as hell 😔) and just leave her there sobbing. she'll get over it, amber always does! it's for the best for both of your sakes (...mostly for ur sake though).

amber comes to work looking a MESS. eyes puffy and hair all frazzled. everyone's worried for her and wondering what happened, and soon she just starts sobbing again. she's misses you so much and will literally start crying in the arms of whoever embraces her first 😭

once the knights are informed of the situation (because unlike jean, amber can't help herself and spits out everything),, they're going RIGHT to u. you think you're about to be arrested one day when two knights are at your door but they're literally just there to get you back with her lmao

girlie is a mess without u. she can't eat, sleep, work, nothing. all she can think of is you and it's just so hard to get out of bed 😔 she will...someday with the pursuit of getting you back! yep, that's what she'll do and she'll do it well!

boy,, she does NOT leave you alone for even a second. she's all over u and literally acting as if ur still dating. she's buying you gifts, food (tons of food, lots of food), and even writing you letters (even if she's not...all that good at it- she's trying her hardest, okay??). the knights are also helping her too because seeing the energetic outsider so depressed is not something they want to see :(( ...atleast they care??

give her a inch she takes a fucking MILE. thanking her for paying for your food? you obviously want her back omg,, it's a sign!! she's squealing and literally so happy and ur just trying to enjoy the food and just 😐🍕

(she knew you wanted her back!! she just needed to court you again and gain ur love back! she promises she'll never make the same mistake again, she swears!! she knows how much u hate her popping into ur house unannouced and stealing your stuff so she won't do it! ...as much)

kaeya:

woe is him and he is woe... 😔

he's just so hurt, heartbroken even. the love of his life is breaking up with him, just leaving him as if the relationship between you both wasn't anything. he's just so sad,, sniffle sniffle...

...

seriously, though. he's just :)) throughout ur whole breakup speech. you'll be going off on how u noticed he's been stalking you and the way hes been distancing you away from ur loved ones and he's just grinning and shit.

obviously this pisses u off because he's just taking this so...nonchalantly?? archons,, you can't stand him! u walk out steaming and he can't help but grin and watch you walk away. he's confident, that's for sure. like he knows you'll come back.

but how wrong he is, because unfortunately (for him) you don't! he watches you even before the 'break up' and he's watching you now,, and you seem so...relaxed. happy, even. better off without him in your life.

(this won't do at all. don't you know u mean so fondly to him? don't you know he can't live without you? your disregardment for his feelings really breaks his heart, y'know?)

has a very particular plan on winning u back up his sleeves,, just you wait :)) it'll all start with him being so kind and gifting you things you know you want (or need), and being a corny lovey dovey letter writer (shakespeare wannabe). this'll last for a good month or so and if he sees no sign of process,, it's time for the other part of his plan!

(he obviously has layers to this. this is you he's trying to win back, he's gotta put in all the stops!)

this...is the part where things get a little messy for u 😬 he necessarily doesn't want to,, but his other plans revolve him doing worser (hint! hiding you away is one of them!), so this is for the best for both of ya, okay?

people are going to start avoiding you. with some, it's sudden. with others, it's slower, but it's not unnoticeable. it's strange, because you don't remember doing anything wrong to anyone, but everyone's avoiding you! ...except your little secret admirer (who really isn't so secret,, he signs all the shit he's get you proudly 😇)

and who's behind all this weird behavior from the people in mondstadt? well give it up for ur ex, kaeya alberich! he's a snotty little weasel,, and you have a inkling feeling who the perpetrator was (and ur right!! kaeya thinks your a very smart cookie!!). confronting him won't get u anywhere honestly because he won't admit to it, he has nothing to admit! ...unless you get back together, of course :33

it's all up to you really. facing the rumors with ur head up high and avoiding him won't get you much anywhere as he'll just end up snatching you away after a while (he loves and hates how mentally strong you are sometimes!). and giving up will just have you back in his arms, which was he wanted from the start! he won this little game of urs fair and square!

lisa:

she's drugging your ass lmao

joking...kinda. she's not going to start pleading and begging for you to say, though she's obviously going to be upset. she has emotions, can't you see? she's frowning so deeply 😞

lisa doesn't want you to leave her. she loves you! if that wasn't obvious with how keen she is of having you all to herself and throwing off potential rivals in pursuit of u, then she doesn't know what is! won't you atleast share a cup of tea with her first, just before you go?

(DON'T drink the tea. it's drugged and you will fall asleep before even finishing the cup)

and hey, even if you don't wanna relax with her for the last time, then you both can still be friends right? or atleast hang out possibly? she's rather persistent but it doesn't come off as clingy/pathetic because she's just rather calm about it all. and unlike kaeya, she's not faking dramatics and just let's you leave.

(obviously,, this is all just ruse to get u back into her arms. she's saddened, really. she truly is. she truly didn't expect for u to see her...darker behavior but she always knew you were a smart cookie <3)

will give you a week or two before she's slowly inching back into ur life. she'll give you a small wave, a quiet hello, etc etc. it's little things really. short conversations soon start happening again and she'll just ask u how ur days going, that sort of thing. she just wants to see how her favorite person is doing! nothing wrong with that, hm?

it'll slowly come to the point where she's offering you to share a cup of tea with her, just like when she tried to break up with u. you can obviously say no, but she'll still want you to take this special batch she has!! it's rather tasty and it's good for calming the drinker down <3

...

liar.

you'll end u stuffed somewhere. it's cold, so extremely cold and ur night clothes aren't much help (she did say the tea was for calming, and u really couldn't sleep that night!). ur obviously scared, but that immediately turns into frustration as soon as lisa appears and tells you her whole plan. tell her that she lied about the tea being for calming and she'll literally just tell you that it wasn't technically a lie! you were still relaxed in your last moments in your home, weren't you? 🙂

(situation will end up the same even if you don't end up taking in the little baits she set up so perfectly for u to take. she didn't expect you to be so smart! she'll just have to go into your house with the key u never took back from her and put something in ur drink, easy peasy :))

#yandere #yandere x reader #romantic yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere jean #yandere jean x reader #yandere amber #yandere amber x reader #I DELETED THE OLDER ONE SOBBING

63 notes · View notes

fragileheartbeats · 1 day

Text

Since I just hit 2k and there were people who dm about how can they start their own blog I was thinking how about I give you guys some tips?

Let's begin then:

1. Beauty

First of all find beautiful a aesthetic and color for yourself that match your writing. Aesthetic and colors that give readers the feeling that you want to show. Like I'm someone who mostly write poetry and people mostly tell me that my aesthetic calm them down and they love the colors that I use. Better use two or three colors.

2. Best time

Find the best time to post your writing. I had another blog before and I post something on there and the best it got was 200 notes, I posted the exact same thing in this blog but in another time and it already got 1k notes. So find the best time to post. And remember different fandoms have different times.

3. Editing

Your posts should always look the same. Like this:

And why I'm saying this? Because when all your posts look the same people gonna know you by it. And the second they see your post they know it's yours.

4. Memorable name

Pick a good name that match your writing/style. Like no one gonna remember "user6253626". Pick something beautiful and interesting that attract people.

5. Be nice

Oh lord I remember that I was a kid back then and I wasn't nice to people. People start hating on me and I kinda lost my followers. I was depressed and had a lot of issues back then but I'm fine now. Anyway just be yourself and be nice. Honestly I hate people who think they are better than others just because they have two more followers. Don't be like them.

6. Full your tags

Full your tags but not with things that aren't related because it's make people block you and it's not a good thing. Like I'm looking for gojo fic but I found sukuna fic, I just block them. But try to find as much related tags as you can.

7. Don't post everyday

Post once a week or two time in a week. Remember there are other writers and they post too so when you post everyday, your post probably gonna get lost and it won't get as much love as it deserve. Also you need your ideas so don't waste them.

8. Remember

Have fun: Writing fanfic should be enjoyable!

Be patient: Building a blog takes time and effort.

Be yourself: Let your personality shine through in your writing and interactions.

#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ��͏͏ ͏͏#blog tips #tips #writing tips #jjk x reader #hsr x reader #genshin impact x reader #blue lock x reader #fanfic #yandere x reader #honkai star rail x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #bnha x reader #tokyo rev x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan x reader

65 notes · View notes

iliketangerines · 3 days

Note

hii it's the anon whom requested the cat!hybrid reader from last time :p

since it was hybrid reader, maybe hybrid Shang Tsung as well? specifically, he's half snake now after a failed potion (or spell, whichever works) and he just breeds his gf reader? maybe also with a little bit of obsessed shang tsung bc I have some thoughts after reading that obsessed shang tsung fic..

take ur time with this, prolly ain't gonna be my last time requesting (and sorry if I'm requesting Shang Tsung a lot it's just that he's lacking fanfics 😞 I have some very inappropriate thoughts abt him that I need to share)

wrapped around him

a/n: writing this, i feel like my writing style has changed since i've come back

pairing: snake hybrid!shang tsung x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, breeding kink, not proofread

Shang Tsung observed the snake tail slithering behind him, a beautiful shade of yellow mottled with some darker parts, and he tilted his head at his newfound appendage

he had drank a botched potion, thinking that it would work, and he was in agonizing pain as he felt his bones rearrange and his flesh meld and stretch

but then the ache had finally faded away, and Shang Tsung could properly admire his newfound addition

it was beautiful, elegant, almost terrifying, and the sorcerer wondered what other changed to his body that the potion had made

he slithered over to the mirror nearby, which had taken an embarrassingly long time with how he had to retrain his muscles to slither rather than walk

but it was worth it as he looked at his body, looking at how his face had changed

his arms had remained unchanged, but on his face…two new slits were now on his face, one on each side of his face that extended from the edge of his mouth to the edge of his face

his eyes were no longer pupils but slitted, like a snakes, and Shang Tsung opened his mouth, finding his fangs much longer than he remembered

but, Shang Tsung opened his mouth even more, and well, his mouth horrifyingly opened even larger, almost like his jaw had come off its hinge

he could see in the periphery how longer fangs popped out from the top of his mouth and sprayed a clear liquid, and then Shang Tsung closed his mouth to a normal amount to observe his tongue

it was forked, but he found he could smell much more if he stuck his tongue out into the air

an odd change, but not an unwelcome one…yet

Shang Tsung crossed his arms, drumming his fingers against his arm as he thought of the cons and pros of the entire situation

he wouldn’t be able to go out in public like this and gather his materials, but he felt stronger, faster, energetic

he supposed he would have to go back to his old ways of finding his materials in the forest, but then again, working with Sindel meant having to appear in court

he would have to transform back soon: he was due for a meeting with the Empress sometime next month

slithering back to the potions table, he’s struck with the thought of you, somewhere upstairs sleeping on the bed or sitting at the table and reading

how would you take his new transformation?

and suddenly Shang Tsung felt nervous

he valued your opinion, one of the few that he did, and he was devoted to you as you were devoted to him

he supposed you would have to his transformed state at some point, and if you would accept his changed body, he was sure

struggling to slither up the stairs, Shang Tsung found you absent from the living room, and so he figured you were still laying in bed, perhaps reading an ancient scroll

he made his way to the bedroom door and opened it slowly, and there you were, sitting on the bed with a cup of something and a scroll he had found for you to translate

you look up at the door with a glare before you realize it’s Shang Tsung, a smile coming over your face as you ask him if he was done for the day

he blinks and not quite, before swinging the door open to show his predicament

your eyes widen in surprise before you start laughing, full on slamming your fist in the sheets and nearly spilling your drink in your other hand

Shang Tsung scowls at your amusement, but it was a bit amusing considering how he was supposed to be a talented sorcerer and still managed to muck up a potion

eventually, your laughs die down into giggle, and you finally step out of the bed, revealing the soft expanse of your legs

you walk over to him, peeking over his shoulder to observe the rest of his tail, and you touch his torso where the skin and the scales blend together, sending a shiver up Shang Tsung’s spine

your observations are slow and deliberate as you walk up and down the length of his tail to observe the length and the pattern and the color

after a while, you stand in front of Shang Tsung, and you tell him the look suits him

the sorcerer chuckles and says for you not to get used to it because he would have to change back soon enough to meet with the court

you pout at him playfully before shrugging your shoulders and crawling back into bed and beckoning him to lay underneath the warm sheets and sun with you

he obliges and curls up around you, his tail wrapping around the two of you as you translated the ancient scroll in your hand and sipped on your morning drink

he would be rid of his tail soon enough, so he might as well enjoy it

well, that’s what Shang Tsung thought except no matter how many times he brewed the potion, it bubbled and fell flat or bubbled over and caused a mess in the labs

even worse, he couldn’t focus on his work, the scent in the air pervading his sense and something raging building up inside of his body

it was hot and heady and something he had ignored for the better part of two weeks, but he really couldn’t manage this building feeling in his body

he slithered out of the lab and up the stairs, hissing in anger, something else that he couldn’t control about his body

he hated this feeling of the loss of control, where he couldn’t even control his damn body

Shang Tsung perks up as his tongue flicks out, tasting you in the air, and he moves as silently as he can toward the door and cracks it open

you’re not doing anything in particular, just catching up on some light reading for you, some books on translations and ancient languages

and yet, you look so enticing, the sun glinting off your hair and shining on all the right parts of your skin and god you smell so tasty right now on his tongue-

you look up from your book, seemingly able to sense his staring, and you close it, placing a bookmark in gently and placing it on the bedside table

he opens the door fully and makes his way over to you, tongue flicking out over and over again because he can’t get enough of your smell

you question if everything was okay, but he can’t seem to hear you over the buzzing in his head and how beautiful you look right now and how you would taste on his heightened senses

Shang Tsung leans down, breathing in your scent from your neck, and his tongue darts out to lick the soft skin

he moans, licking at the slight sheen of sweat you have on your skin, and you tangle your hand in his hair as you laugh and ask if he’s just feeling a little needy

the sorcerer pulls back, and you realize something’s a little off, his pupils are so wide right now and staring right at you and his grip on your shoulders are tightening

he collides his body into yours before you can even think, and he’s tearing off your clothes and ripping off his and his mouth is on yours, nearly devouring you whole

it consumes him, this sudden lust for you, and he needs you, needs to taste you, to fuck you and secure a future

never had he ever thought of something like this, perhaps he had wondered about having a family when young, but almost never again as an adult

right now, his entire body was obsessed with breeding you, seeing you round with his children and to secure his heirs and his future

he presses hurried kisses into your neck, panting like a wild animal, and he can’t stop moaning into your skin as he trails further and further down

it’s an addicting taste, but he wants a slice of your sweetest part

his tail has somehow found time to wrap around your waist, squeezing you tight, and his hands spread your thighs for him, showing off just how soaked you were for him

he can see your slick dripping onto the sheets and dives down, not wanting to waste another drop, tongue lapping furiously at your pussy

it buries in deep, prodding at the deepest parts of you, and you can’t help but let out a cry as he fucks you on his tongue, especially as it bumps against that one spot

Shang Tsung can hear your cries, your whimpers of pleasure, and by the gods, he wants more, needs to hear you crying out his name, that you belong to him

somehow, his hands spread your legs even further, and he shoves his face into your pussy, nose firmly grinding against your sensitive clit

it makes pleasure move up your spine and coil in your head, filling it with a haze, and you whine out his name, moving your hips on his face as you chase your release

you can feel it coming, with the way the pleasure builds higher and higher, and SHang Tsung knows too with the way your hips buck and legs twitch

he wants it too, and his fingers dig bruises into your soft skin as he doubles his efforts, barely breathing as he thrusts his tongue ever further into you

humming against your clit, Shang Tsung is looking for your release, and you let out a cry, pussy clenching down on his tongue and head thrown back as you cum on his face

Shang Tsung’s closes his eyes and moans at the taste of you flooding his tongue, and he laps at you, trying to get every single drop, determined to not let it go to waste

your hips are still grinding on his nose, and you hands are gripping onto the sheets desperately as you ride out the last vestiges of your orgasm

finally, you open your eyes and find Shang Tsung’s face hovering over you, staring at you with those slitted eyes of his and grinding his cock into your wet cunt

his cock, cocks?

Shang Tsung all but purrs as he leans in close to your ear and whispers in his smug voice that his body can now accommodate for two

and with that, he pushes in slowly, and you whine loudly, hands flying up from the sheets to grab onto his shoulders and dig your nails into his muscle

but he doesn’t seem to mind, watching how your chest rises and falls rapidly and how your face scrunches up in both pleasure and pain

his mouth presses against yours, catching every little sound you make for him, and one of his hands go down to rub at your clit

it helps you relax, and Shang Tsung pushes a little further, letting out a breathy groan into your mouth as he finally bottoms out

you’ve never felt so full, so fucked-out and stretched, but it’s pleasureable, the way the sting burns around the edges and mixes with the pleasure

you beg him, please, please move, you need him to fuck you

Shang Tsung gladly does so, moving his hips slowly at first and then quickening his pace until it’s the wet squelch of your pussy in the air

he has to breed you, needs it carnally, has to fuck his cum into you, and it’s all Shang Tsung can think about as his instincts kick in

it’s almost feral how he fucks into you, hand rubbing fast little circles onto your clit as he fucks you on his cocks, and you let out a cry as you cum, still sensitive from your previous one

but he doesn’t slow down, or mock you, or tease you, rather he just continues with his animalistic grunts, teeth gleaming in the sun’s beams and eyes so black you’re not sure if there’s even an iris

all too quickly, another orgasm rises up in you, and Shang Tsung pushes you over the edge over and over again, filling your senses with him and only him

the pleasure and pain stings together, and you start to cry, tears falling down your cheeks

Shang Tsung licks them up, smiling at how you’re crying, and it only spurs him on for his tail to raise up your waist so his cocks hits a different angle inside of you

it makes you see stars and moan out his name as you clench down on him and squirt, the liquid coating his torso and his skin and dripping down onto the sheets

but it’s what Shang Tsung needs as he finally groans deep and cums inside of you, thrusts sloppy and slowing as he fucks his seed into you

his hips never stop, only moving much slow than before as he watches for any singular spilled drop from your pussy

and then finally, he buries himself deep to keep you plugged with his seed, and he loosens his grip on your waist to wrap his entire tail around the two of you as he drifts off to sleep

he has a protective grip on you, head buried into your hair, and you can’t find yourself holding onto consciousness much longer either as you fall asleep as well

Shang Tsung finds the cure a few days later, and then a few months later in the forsaken island as he accrues his powers, he finds that you’re pregnant

he almost hopes that they’re half-snake

68 notes · View notes