#we’re a creative bunch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callsign-rogueone · 3 months

Text

the last six years - b.s.

Brennan Sorrengail x reader Only one person has remained by Brennan’s side for the last six years, through the good and the bad. [requested] wc: 3.9k 🏷: SPOILERS FOR FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME. fatal injury, blood, and multiple character deaths. basically every bad thing that has ever happened to Brennan will be in this series. I took some major creative liberties with this one and made a bunch of stuff up regarding Tyrrish culture, but we’re just gonna breeze right past that. more to come, because Brennan is just so husband material… mans had me giggling and kicking my feet every time he spoke.

“Tairn! We need Naolin!” You scream, praying that he is alive to hear you. “Bren, please, stay with me.”

His chest rises and falls slowly; he's still breathing. Breathing is good. “Y’need to get out of here.”

“No. I’m not leaving you. Eyes open, Bren, please,” you beg, pressing your hands deeper into the wound. “Tairn!”

“Thirty seconds out!” He yells back.

There’s not much you can do. To remove the arrow is a death sentence when you don’t have any medical supplies. It’s the only thing keeping the blood in his body, but even then it’s doing a shitty job; the warm crimson continues spilling out through your fingers, seemingly endless.

“S’ gonna be okay, sweetheart,” Brennan soothes, feeling your panic.

“Bren, you need to stay awake. You can’t die. I can’t keep going without you.” Tears are pouring freely down your cheeks, dripping down onto the dark fabric of his flight jacket.

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbles, ignoring your pleas. He’s slipping away, fast, falling into the slow confusion that comes with a shortage of blood to the brain. “Let me mend you.”

“I’ll worry about myself later. Right now we need to keep you alive.”

Heavy bootsteps enter the room. “Holy shit,” Naolin breathes, at your side in an instant. He digs in his bag, producing sutures and gauze.

If you act quickly, and if by some miracle the arrowhead hasn’t pierced Brennan’s heart, you can keep him stable long enough to find another mender. You break the shaft of the arrow, Brennan whimpering in pain as it shifts within his chest.

“I know, my love, I’m so sorry,” you soothe, wiping your palms on your pant legs and moving to cradle his head in your lap as Naolin takes over. You keep whispering reassurances to him, terrified that if you stop, it’ll sever the last thread holding him in this world. “You’re doing so good, Bren. Almost done, I promise.”

Naolin gives you a look that tells you no, he’s not almost done.

Brennan’s grip on your hand loosens, and you scramble to grab his wrist, bloodied fingers trying to find a pulse -- to no avail. “No,” you cry, tears pouring down your cheeks, “Bren, please wake up, please.”

The slow thump beneath your fingertips stops. Brennan’s heart is no longer beating.

You sob, a desperate sound that splits the air of the ballroom, and Naolin makes his decision, grasping Brennan’s hand and yours. “The two of you need each other.”

“Nao, you can’t-” you gasp at the rush of energy that rips through you, the pain in your broken ribs diminishing instantly. You feel like you’ve been given a shot of pure adrenaline.

Naolin stops breathing just as Brennan starts again, collapsing to the marble floor, and your lips part in shock.

“He is gone,” Tairn confirms, fighting to keep his voice even. “May your gods honor his sacrifice and reward him in the next life.”

“I’m so sorry.”

His eyes are closed. That comforts you in some tiny way, that he looks whole, uninjured, like he could just be sleeping, but you know that isn’t the case.

Brennan’s breaths are even, pulse steady. The wound looks days old now, the fresh blood coating the skin the only evidence that he had nearly died today. He’ll pull through, as long as you can get out of here.

You say a prayer to Malek on your friend’s behalf, casting one last glance at his unmoving body, and gather Brennan into your arms -- he’s still breathing, but limp, exhausted. You can carry him out of here, but where will you go?

A man bearing a crossbolt steps into the ballroom.

You make no movement toward your weapon, still holding Brennan’s body to your chest. “We surrender,” you rasp, praying he will take pity on a pair of bloodsoaked young lovers and their fallen comrade.

He steps closer, not responding.

The words escape you before you can think. The old language feels foreign on your tongue, misshapen from years of disuse. “I am a daughter of the house Lindell, and a citizen of Tyrrendor. I have sworn an oath to-”

“I know who you are, Lady,” he says. “Come with me.”

He stops in front of an abandoned farmhouse, painted gold in the sunset. “Bathe, sleep. I’ll be back when I can.”

You remain by Brennan’s side. You stitch up his wounds, wash the dried blood from his skin, count his heartbeats as he continues to sleep.

Night comes, bringing freezing wind through the cracked windows, and you climb into the bed beside him, pulling the few blankets you’d found over the pair of you. He curls into your side, seeking warmth — his skin is still cold, but not as icy as it had been when you limped him over here.

When you wake the next morning, the man has not yet returned.

“Ban?” You ask quietly. You haven’t heard from the dragon since you’d dismounted over a day ago, but she must still live, as you do.

“Nearby, with Marbh,” she reassures. “Tairn has returned to Basgiath to be with his mate. It will take years for him to recover from this loss, but he will live on.”

You continue to stroke Brennan’s hair, taking solace in the steadiness of his breathing.

“Your devotion to the mender is the strongest I have seen from any human,” she says quietly.

“He has become the air I breathe. It was unbearable when he…” you don’t even want to think the words. “I don’t know what I would have done, had Naolin not intervened.”

Brennan stirs, stretching in the cute way you’ve seen him do so many times after waking up, scrunching his face at the bright morning light streaming into the room. He takes you in, thanking the gods that the only injury you bear is a yellowing bruise on your cheek. A gentle hand cradles your face, and it vanishes.

“Naolin?” He asks quietly, and something tells you he already knows deep down.

You shake your head, your eyes brimming with tears. “He gave his life to save you.”

He looses a shuddering breath, and you gather him into your arms, crying together.

You attempt to mentally prepare yourself to enter the assembly room, adjusting your posture -- shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward.

“Not a word,” you warn Brennan quietly. “Keep your shields up, like I taught you.”

“I didn’t know we were taking prisoners,” a lanky teenage boy calls, eyeing you from his perch on the edge of a table. In the years you’ve been away, he’s grown into his father’s dark features, and the lazy confidence that can only come with a noble title. “I was wondering when you’d be back from playing soldier. Have they brought you here to negotiate?”

“Lovely to see you again too, Xaden,” you say dryly, addressing the boy by name, and Brennan’s gaze whips toward you in shock. “No, I am not here to negotiate. We are here to surrender, and if you will have us, we will take your side in this fight to free Tyrrendor from those who have oppressed her for centuries.”

“They would be an asset to us, should this prove to not be a setup,” one of the elders says, keeping his hand on the hilt of his longsword.

“She has proved her allegiance to Tyrrendor time and time again,” Xaden defends coldly, dismissing the man who looks old enough to be his grandfather. “It is the general's son that I’m more concerned with.”

You look him directly in the eye as you speak, raising your chin. “Sorrengail is a strong rider and skilled mender, but above all, he is a good man. I could not have chosen anyone better to share the crown with when the day comes.”

Brennan looks at you like he has no idea who you are, trying to discern if this is a dream.

Xaden finds this amusing. “She really didn’t tell you? Always so secretive, that one. Your girlfriend is heir apparent to the Duchy of Lindell, as I am to Aretia, where you stand.”

He looks to the elders, who all nod in affirmation, deeming your appraisal of Brennan satisfactory. “It’s good to have you back, Lady. Things were getting boring without you.”

You lower your head to him in thanks, Brennan quickly copying you.

You tug Brennan into the hall after you’re dismissed.

“Did you really mean that?” He asks, head still spinning.

“Every word,” you reply. “From the moment you extended that hand to me in our first year at Basgiath, I knew you were good to your core, Brennan Sorrengail. It would be an honor to share my duty with you.”

“Your mate needs you,” Marbh says, making a rare appearance.

Your heart drops. You sprint down the valley trail back to the house, attempting to ascertain what had happened, but you aren’t given a response. Marbh has always been vague.

You find Brennan tucked into a corner of your shared room, back pressed to the wall. He’s clutching a piece of parchment that you recognize to be a Basgiath death roll. He extends it to you wordlessly, and your eyes race down the list, searching for Mira, his mother, another of your friends…

The final name on the list, below the rider’s quadrant cadets, almost as an afterthought… Major William Sorrengail. His father.

“Oh, Bren,” you breathe, gathering him into your arms, “I’m so sorry.”

His entire body shakes with a sob, and it takes everything in you to not cry as well, but you remain strong, needing to be there for him. “I knew I’d never see him again,” he says in a cracked whisper, “but now…” But now it’s real.

You’d never met the man, and now you never will, but you know what a profound impact Brennan’s father had on his life, imparting so many of the qualities that you admire about Brennan; his dedication to his studies, his respect for the scribes that so many others dismiss or overlook, his unwavering compassion…

You offer a silent prayer to Malek on his behalf, asking that He show the scribe the same kindness that he had shown others in life.

“I don’t know why, or how,” Brennan rasps, “I don’t know who was there with him in the end, if Mira and Violet got to say goodbye, if my mother…” he can’t finish the sentence, words cut with shaking breaths. He loses the strength to hold himself up, collapsing into your embrace. “I should be there,” he sniffles, “I should have been there.”

“I know how much you love him. He knew too, I’m sure he did. They all do.” You hold him tighter, stroking his hair. “The girls are strong. They will mourn, but they will get through it together.”

He’s run out of tears, leaving him with a headache and a hollow feeling in his chest. He eventually relaxes, not saying a word as you smooth down the soft waves of his hair, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He’s fallen asleep. You just hope his dreams will be kind to him.

“Enough,” you command, and all heads turn toward you. “I will not have you disrespect Riorson nor his partner in his own home. Have you forgotten what he has done for our young?”

Ulices stiffens. “My apologies, Lady.” He says the title with an ounce of venom, but yields, returning to his seat.

Violet continues to study you. You’re dressed simply, head to toe rider’s black mixed with traditional Tyrrish leather armor and intricate braids that she has only seen drawn in history books, but it’s obvious in your posture that you’re nobility - you do not dip your head below the horizon even for a moment, and you speak with the confidence that others will listen.

“We have better things to do than argue about what should have happened. There is no turning back time,” you say calmly. “I agree that we have been given a legion of students rather than trained warriors, but it has become our job to train them.”

Brennan speaks next. He’s been silent since the meeting started. “What professors have joined us should resume modified versions of their courses, and we will fill in the gaps. Match up those with similar signets for mentorship. Emeterrio can continue to lead combat training, and Devera Battle Brief. Kaori has not joined us, but I think there is an obvious replacement.”

You’re saddened by the news, but you smile softly at his praise.

Violet realizes that the scribbled amendments in the dragons section of Brennan’s book weren’t Mira’s, but yours. You’ve been close for years, then. You must have brought him here with you when you deserted. Part of her wonders if you’d attended Basgiath because you wanted to, or as a spy.

“Do not question the royal one’s integrity,” Tairn warns her, but does not elaborate further.

“The riot has decided that everyone here can be trusted,” you state. “And if anyone turns out not to be, we will do what we have to do, without hesitation, for the good of the movement.”

There’s sounds of agreement from the other six, and then the meeting is over.

“Hey,” he says softly, leaning against the doorframe, clutching a bloodied rag to his face.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Mira’s fist happened,” he explains, lifting it, and you wince at the sight of his nose, the bridge split and bruising. “I’ll be fine in a day or two.”

Your heart twists. Brennan hasn’t been able to see his sisters for nearly a decade, spending the last six years in hiding and the two before that stationed across the continent with hardly enough leave to travel back and forth to Basgiath. For Mira to have punched him straight in the face instead of the tearful hug he’d dreamed of… it must have crushed him.

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, careful not to bump his nose. “I’ll talk to her,” you say softly. “Go see the healers.”

You’ve only met the middle Sorrengail in passing, nearly ten years ago now, but she’s exactly as Brennan had described her; a younger version of their mother, and just as strong-willed. Evidently, she remembers you, scowling and crossing her arms at the sight of you, but still standing at attention — there’s no missing the Major’s insignia on your chest. Violet stands as well, but doesn’t look as sour as her sister.

You wave a hand. “At ease. I am not here to issue orders, rather to talk about your brother.”

Mira prickles, Violet looking concerned.

You choose your words carefully. “I do not expect either of you to forgive him overnight, nor for you to forgive me for my complacency in this matter. All I ask is that you show him some compassion. It has been hard for him too, being apart from his family. When your father-”

“That is not a sentence you should finish,” Mira interrupts.

“Mira,” Violet scolds softly, “be nice.”

“No,” she snaps, “I don’t think you understand. We mourned him. We called him a hero, thought he died honorably in battle when he really just deserted and changed his name.”

“He did die,” you say, and the eyes of both women flit back toward you. You look over your shoulder. “He bled out on the floor of that ballroom, and his heart stopped. Our friend siphoned away his life to save him.”

“Tairn’s previous rider,” Violet says in a whisper, as if the dragon will not hear her that way.

“Yes. Naolin.” You say his name with a heavy voice. No wonder Tairn won’t speak to her of the one who came before. That explains the gruff dragon’s defense of you, too.

Mira is silent, likely feeling guilt over her outburst as she realizes her brother still lives in the house he’d been killed in, with the son of the man who had ended his life.

“The elders gave him the name Aisereigh — meaning resurrected — as a layer of protection from those who hold vendettas against your mother. It hurt him to take it, and to not be able to give me the Sorrengail name, but it was necessary for his survival.”

Violet’s eyes land on the band circling your ring finger, a smooth strip of silver carved with Tyrrish runes. Brennan had worn a matching one when she’d seen him the day after War Games, but she hadn’t thought anything of it until now. “You’re married.”

You nod. “Three years ago, right on that bluff at the top of the valley, on a gorgeous summer day. Both of us wish those he loves most could have been there.”

“Thank you,” Violet says quietly, “for staying with him through it all.”

“I have been by his side since our first year at Basgiath, and I will remain there as long as we shall live, as I have vowed to,” you reply with the same blunt conviction that she’s used to from Xaden — that must be a Tyrrish thing. “Now please excuse me. I have a class to teach in a few minutes.”

Mira lowers her head to you in a gesture of respect. “I’m sorry,” she says, but she does not say what for.

You give her a soft smile in return, heading back into the house.

“Major Aisereigh will be taking over your dragonkind course, as Professor Kaori did not elect to join us here,” Professor Devera announces.

It’s strange to be standing on the dais as an equal with the woman who’d had a hand in kidnapping you from Brennan’s bed to torture you eight years ago, but nearly everything about your life since that night has been strange.

“I don’t know precisely what Kaori did and did not cover thus far in the term, but given that every person in this room has managed to bond a dragon, you are clearly proficient, and I will treat you as such,” you begin. “Dragons are independent, often to a fault, but do not forget that your health depends on theirs. As riders, you must learn how to care for them properly. That’s what we will be focusing on for the remainder of the term, along with flight mechanics and keeping your seat under stress.”

You glance at Brennan, who is sitting incognito in the back row, broken nose now mended, and he nods, an easy smile on his face. You’re doing great.

The lesson passes easily, your students much more engaged than you remember your peers having been in Professor Kaori’s class.

“I will be needing volunteers to help with the maintenance of the riot while they’re grounded.”

At least thirty hands shoot straight up — half the class.

The trek up the valley wall is never easy, but you make winded conversation with several of the volunteers, mainly nervous first-years who confide that they need the extra practice.

You stop at the top of the trail, cupping a hand to your mouth and calling out a few short notes, and Banrion is at your side in seconds, shaking the ground with her landing. At least a dozen others land nearby, sitting upright in waiting.

“You’ve brought children,” she appraises, eyeing them with distaste.

“Cadets,” you correct, “that you will be helping me teach. So be nice.”

She chuffs softly. “Fine.”

“I have chosen some more agreeable members of the riot to aid me today, to ease you into their care, but let me make this clear,” you say to the class, who have retreated to give you and Ban a healthy distance. “the majority still find it deeply offensive to be addressed by a human that is not their rider. Unless your bonded has joined us today, please refrain from speaking to any directly.”

You wait for nods of affirmation. “Banrion and I will demonstrate pre-flight checks once, and then you will split into groups of two or three to do the same with the remainder here.”

Once you get everyone settled, you find Brennan — he’d tagged along quietly, not wanting to part ways after the morning’s chaos.

“Well done, Professor,” he says, smiling. “You just might make this a day job.”

You laugh. “Is this everything twenty-year-old Bren thought it would be?”

“It is,” he says quietly. “And more.”

You gaze out at the field of cadets. “Marked and unmarked, living in harmony.”

Brennan squeezes your hand in acknowledgment, remembering how scared you had been when the first marked ones left for Basgiath, and each year since. It had hurt you deeply when not all of them returned.

Tairn stalks up to you, dipping his head in greeting. “Good to see you again, royal one.”

You smile. “Glad you’re still around, big guy. You have made an excellent choice in Violet. How is the golden one?”

“Still dreamless,” he answers, not deigning to reply to your compliment.

You worry your lip between your teeth, concerned.

He casts a glance around at the young cadets in the vale, who are taking their tasks very seriously. “You remain as revered a leader as you were at Basgiath.”

You’re actually touched, but you won’t dare mention that to Tairn.

“It is not an easy feat to raise young,” a green scorpiontail says in agreement, looking down fondly at the first-years that are inspecting her claws for cracks, “but the two of you are doing a fine job.”

You smile. “And how are your young?”

“Safe,” she answers. “You may come see them after dark.”

“It would be an honor.”

“Professor?” A cadet calls from across the field, sounding mildly concerned.

You pull apart from Brennan reluctantly. “Duty calls. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Kiss for your thoughts?” you ask playfully, seeing the weary look on his face. It’s been a long day for him, with multiple arguments among the assembly and all the emotions of reuniting with Mira.

“I have both of my sisters back,” he breathes, still in disbelief. “I thought I’d never see them again.”

You lay a hand on his back, resting your head on his shoulder. “I spoke with them before class. Mira was particularly upset, but she softened when I told her what really happened.”

He’s quiet. “She has every right to hate me for what I did. She should despise me for the rest of my life.”

“But she doesn’t,” you remind him gently. “She holds anger, but she doesn’t hate you. You’re her brother, and she knows you love her. You wrote her an entire textbook on how to survive the rider’s quadrant. If that isn’t testament enough, I don't know what is.”

He shakes his head, smiling softly. “How do you always know the right thing to say?”

You grin, moving to climb into his lap. “Because I know you, and I know exactly what goes on in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Yeah?” he asks, nose brushing against yours, a ringed hand settling on your waist. “What am I thinking about right now?”

“Hmm. Probably about how long of a day it’s been, and how you’d like to unwind after all of it?”

“You’re absolutely right,” he says. “I’ll take that kiss now.”

You lean forward, connecting your lips to his, and the rest of the world falls silent, melting away until all that’s left is you, your husband, and the love you share, love that has endured death itself.

#brennan sorrengail #brennan aisereigh #brennan sorrengail x reader #fourth wing fanfic #reader insert #x reader #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing #mine #dividers by user cafekitsune #Brennan and Duchess

190 notes · View notes

queenimmadolla · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈

(Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader)

summary: You cancel on your plans to hang out with your crush, Eddie, and your friends when you realize your competition for his affections will also be there. So, naturally, Eddie comes to you.

warnings: misunderstandings, little bit of hurt, little bit of angst, a lot of fluff and a lot of comforting,

a/n: little companion piece to In My Dreams. inspired by Hozier’s song Would That I, my re-watching of grey’s anatomy, my love for Lexie Grey who heavily inspires Reader’s personality in this, and that confession. for creative purposes we’re gonna pretend Halloween 5 came out before 1986, Eddie got held back like twice maximum, and everyone is alive/lives in Hawkins because this is an ideal world. probably won’t be able to post much in the coming weeks so enjoy and let me know what you think (don’t be a jerk)! mistakes will be fixed later.

You open the sliding door of the shower with a sigh, arm curling around your body at the slight temperature change as you yank the towel off the bathroom counter where you had set it and wrap it around your body, quickly drying off your limbs. Once you’re dry enough, you step out of the shower, towel now wrapped around your body as you grab a clean t-shirt to wrap around your drenched hair.

You swipe the condensation from the steam off the mirror, staring at your bare, disappointed face before the steam fogs it up again.

Your body heaves out another sigh as you prepare to go through your routine in a failed attempt to not think about all the fun your friends are having without you at that very moment.

It wasn’t like they hadn’t invited you, because they had. Heather had come bounding up to you during break on Tuesday to tell you about the group’s plans to hang out on Friday night, go to the mall, head to the movies then grab a bite to eat and probably hang out at someone’s house. You’d agreed immediately, loving nothing more than spending time with your friends. But then you had found out two things that had certainly rained on your parade before it even started:

1.) Roxy Campbell was going. Heather knew how much you two didn’t get along (a dislike that had been mutual since elementary school but had only spiked in animosity in recent years) and had hurriedly explained that it hadn’t been her that extended the invitation to Roxy, which lead you to reason number two.

2.) Chrissy Cunningham would be there. There wasn’t any bad blood between you and Chrissy, far from actually. You didn’t interact with her too much, she was more Heather’s friend than yours (and you sometimes wondered about that, they often cuddled up during big sleepovers, and disappeared at gatherings) but the common factor between Roxy, Chrissy and you was the real problem.

See, you wouldn’t have a problem being in the same place as Roxy on her own, and same goes for Chrissy, but together, they would just be too much for your insecurity, because Eddie was going.

You’d had a crush on Eddie since the fourth grade (he’d been a couple of grades ahead of you at the time, but now he was attainable, or you had thought he was) but it was when Heather had sucked you into their rag tag group consisting of a bunch of social misfits (Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, Argyle, Barb, Robin, Eden, Eddie and a partridge in a pear tree) during junior year that you actually fell in love with him.

He’d been the one you had bonded with the most, you had almost nothing in common—but it didn’t seem to matter because he made you feel like you mattered. He made you feel seen when you thought you were invisible, made you feel heard when you thought no one was listening, and you just. . .you really loved the way he made you feel.

And you were stupid enough to love him. Stupid enough to love his long curls, his smile (the crazed one was a favorite of yours, but it was topped by the shy one he’d always exchange with you when it was just the two of you in your own world—regardless of your friends surrounding you, or when you were in class and you’d turn in your seat to look back at Eddie and he’d already be watching you, he’d give you that same, beautiful smile), the way he’d doodle silly little things all over his hands (and you could go super into depth about your admiration for those hands), how he resembled a Gremlin when he ate, how he couldn’t seem to sit like a normal person in most public settings unless he was mentally exhausted, his dramatics and the stupid faces he’d make, the way he’d bark at Tommy H. when the jerk dared to try and approach Steve or if he was simply annoying Eddie, how much time and effort he put into campaigns, how he never seemed to get mad during the rare campaigns in which the Hellfire Club managed to breeze right through his monsters, mazes, and obstacles. You could go on forever and that was the problem.

Roxy started liking Eddie right around the time you fell in love with him—because she always has to have whatever you want—and Chrissy was the last girl you were aware he’d had a crush on. A crush he’d had since the seventh grade. Given the current strength of your feelings for a crush you’d had for far longer, you didn’t have any hopes that he’d moved on, since you—ya know hadn’t. Roxy didn’t really intimidate you, but if you were sandwiched between the two girls—or worse, if Eddie was, you’d be forced to watch either another girl flirt with him or watch him flirt with another girl. Both of those options sounded terrible to you and you were positive you’d just end up with a stomach ache that had you nearly bedridden like you always did when it came to heartbreak.

After three days of debating, you’d called Heather before you were all supposed to meet up at the mall and had used your mom not letting you go out because you had chores to do as an excuse. Your mom wouldn’t have appreciated being made the villain but they had all seen you looking perfectly fine at school only a couple of hours earlier, meaning you couldn’t play sick, so she’d just have to take one for the team.

Heather had sounded disappointed but understood and told you she’d let the rest of the group know.

Then you proceeded to have a breakdown, you’d cried and cried, crawled into your shower, cried so much and let the reality of not ever being able to love Eddie and be loved by him crash down on you, your chances of being the reason he smiles and feels loved circle the drain before washing away as your body shook with your sobs. At one point you had thought you might suffocate with it all, but you hadn’t. Once the hot water had begun to lower in temperature, you forced yourself to get up and get yourself together. Eddie should be able to be happy with whoever he wanted and if you were really his friend, you would have to be happy for him and stop feeling sorry for yourself.

So, here you were. All alone on a Friday night while the rest of the teenagers in Hawkins got to be, well, teenagers.

You try cheering yourself up by doing a full body shave since you have the time, moisturizing heavily with sweet smelling lotion, shaping your eyebrows, doing a ton of face masks—you may be feeling pathetic but your skin sure wasn’t—and painting your nails and toes. You’d gone with a metallic green this time in an effort to be daring. You even put your earrings back in, just to feel a little less naked.

Once the polish is dry and you have done all the self-care you can think of, you’re left with nothing to do and no one to keep you company. Even your mind is quiet and your thoughts are whispers, if anything. They’re not nice whispers, so you decide to watch a movie. You throw on one of your comfy sweaters and a pair of boy shorts before running downstairs to sort through the rentals your family still has. Normally, you wouldn’t go running out in your underwear regardless of how similar to shorts they appear, but even your parents had plans tonight, Fridays were date night. They’d come home sometime after 2 am, giggling and so in love as they tiptoed—incredibly loudly, somehow—past your room to try and not wake you up while you listened to them trip and stumble down the hall because you couldn’t help but like to listen and imagine it being you and Eddie one day; drunk, in love and without a care in the world because you’d have each other and maybe a slightly sleep deprived teenage daughter.

The movie selections aren’t too vast, most of yours had been returned on Wednesday—WAIT, SCORE!

You admire the VHS cover of The Last Unicorn with a smile before tucking it under your arm and disconnecting the VCR from the TV in the living room. You carry the bulky thing and its wires up to your room, quickly setting it up to your smaller tv and popping the tape in. While the previews play, you pull the soaked t-shirt off your head, your hair is still damp but as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror, you can’t help but smile. Your face is glowing, you smell amazing, you hair—while still somewhat wet—looks promising to dry and set satisfactory. Hell, the damp look is working for you on its own. With a smile on your face, you feel and look beautiful.

The t-shirt is tossed into your hamper and you dig out a couple of your favorite snacks from your hoarding place under your bed before you settle on top of it, belly down and your comfiest pillow under your chin as the movie begins.

The movie is comforting and provides you a sense of nostalgia, though it hadn’t come out too long ago. You chalk it up to its dated terms and the general setting of it.

You’re completely invested in it, mind filled with nothing but commentary. You’re wondering why the animators made Celaeno the Harpy’s three titties so big and bouncy when the sound of knuckles rapping on your window surprises you. You push yourself up on your arms, craning your head to look even though you have an inkling who it is, the only person to regularly visit you via window pane.

Sure enough, Eddie is grinning at you from the other side, gesturing down to your window locks. You hadn’t been expecting him so you’d left it secured. It was only a little past 8 pm and hang outs nearly went on to 1 am, why wasn’t he with everyone else?

You move your snacks aside and abandon your pillow in favor of climbing off your bed to pause the movie before you make your way over, unlocking and opening the window for him.

“FINALLY!” Eddie grunts out as he tumbles in, rolling a little ways away before he jumps up and stretches his arms out so high he’s almost touching your ceiling. You roll your eyes, a small laugh slipping past your lips as your fondness for the silly boy quickly rises to the surface.

“Oh, quit it, you faker. You weren’t out there that long.”

Eddie scowls at you, eyes narrowed playfully. He won’t bother telling you that he’d been there for ten minutes (after he’d struggled to get on the roof for the same amount of time, Jesus H. Christ, it never got easier scaling your home, but he’d be damned if he stopped doing it, it was romantic and he was in the middle of wooing) watching you in a non-creepy manner, you’d looked so beautiful and peaceful; he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of you or even consider making you aware of his presence until the overwhelming urge to hold you had taken over. He didn’t know if he’d finally be able to work up the courage to do so but the distance between you, and the physical separation started to give him anxiety so he’d knocked.

“You still took your sweet time getting off your butt to let me in,” Eddie teases as he makes himself comfortable, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket to hang on your desk chair. He even takes the chain off of his jeans, tucking it into one of the jacket pockets.

“I wasn’t expecting you!” You throw your hands up in defeat after you shut the window again.

Eddie’s grin turns sly, “Did I surprise you, kid?”

Now it’s your turn to narrow your eyes at him, because you know he doesn’t have the audacity to bring this up again. “Do. Not. Start.”

“It’s just pretty interesting for a guy whom you referred to as predictable today, at 10:06 in Mr. Bellow’s class, to surprise you in a manner that is evidently not so predictable.” He’s smug, so very smug as he crosses his arms and smirks.

You groan, though there’s no annoyance to it, in fact—you’re fighting off a smile. If you smile, he wins and that’s what he wants. You can’t give him that, it's the little teasing game you have going on. You will not break.

“You accuse me of holding onto grudges─”

“Because you do.”

“—yet here you are, bringing up something from the past!”

“It happened today!”

“Yeah, earlier today, as in not right now, meaning the past. Besides, I wasn't wrong. You always climb up to my window and you always try to be unexpected, so really, this was very much so an Eddie thing to do and I am—in fact—correct about you being predictable.” You state as you make your way back to your bed, climbing back on top and folding your legs criss cross style.

Eddie stares at you from where he’s standing, amusement clear in those big beautiful, Bambi eyes of his. The smirk is still there, but it’s not so sly or smug anymore, more gentle and you can tell he’s trying to not let it break into a grin but he’s smiling, nonetheless, so you win. And he knows it.

He shakes his head, turning to look at your poster and art covered walls so you can’t see just how big his grin is. When he finally composes himself, his body is relaxed, arms dropping to dangle by his sides as he stalks towards your bed.

“You’re delusional.”

“Am I wrong, though?” You beam up at him and he can’t say no to you, ever.

With a heavy sigh, he drops his weight onto your bed, falling onto his back. Your poor snacks go tumbling but you don’t care, leaning an elbow on your knee as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand while you peer down at him.

“No. What are we watching?”

“You didn’t answer my earlier question.”

“You didn’t ask a question.” You know he knows what you’re referring to.

“I could smother you right now.”

“Mm, but you won’t.”

You drop your hand from your chin to dart forward and tickle his side. Eddie yelps, letting out a loud laugh as he tries to wrangle your hand in his, securing your wrist in his grasp.

“Okay! Okay! Fine, what’s your question?”

“Why aren’t you with everyone else?” You exclaim, in your rush of adrenaline, rather than ask.

Eddie answers like it’s the most simple question in the world, blinking up at you as though the answer should have been obvious to you, “Because you’re not there.”

Your brows furrow, a confused smile crossing your lips and Eddie wants to lean up and kiss the spot between your eyebrows to ease them. You smell so good, too. He just wants to bury his face in your neck, your hair, suffocate himself with you ‘til his lungs refuse oxygen in favor of needing you to breathe.

“I’m hardly the life of the party, Eddie.”

Not when Roxy and Chrissy are around, you think to yourself. If you’re being honest, Chrissy seems more fun than Roxy, and so are you. Anyone is better than Roxy. You can’t help but briefly wonder how Roxy can be friends, acquaintances, whatever, with Chrissy—not that there’s anything wrong with the sweet blonde—but if it was obvious to you that Eddie liked Chrissy, it should have been obvious to Roxy. Roxy loathed you even more than she had before for being friends with Eddie, you figured she’d hate Chrissy since she was the object of his affections.

“You’re spacing’ out on me, kid.” You’re literally shaken from your thoughts when Eddie puts his giant freaking hand on the top of your damp head, giving it a gentle shake. He laughs at your expression when you swat his hand away.

“Sorry, was just thinking about something. Did you say something?”

“I said you’re the life of my party,” Eddie repeats, trying to maintain his cool, despite how fast his heart was racing. He’d do that a lot, drop little hints to see if you picked up on them with hopes you would. Then, he’d have the perfect opportunity to finally tell you how he feels; like how his heart had just about dropped out of his ass when Heather had come on her own and told them you wouldn’t be joining them. He’d been sullen and mostly quiet as they walked through the mall. Steve and Argyle had tried to cheer him up, but it was useless. Chrissy had even tried to strike up a conversation but he couldn’t think about anything but you, so that had dropped pretty fast and he was sure he’d come off as rude, only he couldn’t care right then but he’d apologize next week at school.

Eddie couldn’t even recall what movie they had ended up watching. Even if he had been trying to pay attention, Roxy was constantly trying to talk to him during the movie so he wouldn’t have been able to hear it anyways. The entire time he was trying to think of why you hadn’t shown up. Heather had mentioned something about your mom, but Eddie knew your parents had date nights on Fridays so you were pretty much free to do whatever you wanted. Were you sick? On your period? Suffering? And here he was, albeit not having an even decent time, hanging out with his friends when he could have been comforting you or just with you. He left before the movie hit the halfway point.

“Coolest person I know, kid.”

You smile, sinking back into your shoulders shyly, you may not have been the apple of his eye, but you were still cool in his, “Thanks, Eddie. You’re the coolest person I know, too. Maybe even the best person I know, in general. Don’t tell Robin or Eden I said that.”

Eddie chuckles, still hyper aware of your wrist in his hand, if he plays this right he could just slide it up ‘til he’s palm to palm with you and intertwine your fing─

“The Last Unicorn,” You announce, finally answering his question as you sit up only to lean back into your pillows, pulling your wrist out of his hold just as Eddie had been about to trail his hand higher. You pat the spot next to you as you pull your knees to your chest. “We lost the remote so you’ll have to go press ‘play’.”

“Oh, I’ll have to go press ‘play’, huh?” His amusement is back as he shifts onto his side to face you.

“Mhm,” You nod innocently, placing your finger on the tip of your nose. “Nose goes.”

He stares at you, incredulous, before he reluctantly pushes himself up even though you both know he would have done it regardless.

“That stupid game doesn’t even make sense, if it’s gonna be called ‘Nose Goes’ shouldn’t the first person that touches their nose fucking go?” He grumbles as he presses the button on the VCR before climbing onto the bed, making himself comfy next to you as the movie resumes.

You shush him, eyes fixated on the screen again, on Celaeno, “Look at her boobies.”

Eddie does as you say, guffawing once he notices. He’s more amused with your thought process than he is with the harpy, for obvious reasons. One being that he’s in love with you and how cute you are and the other being that the harpy is far from appealing to look at.

“Wait, does she have three tits?”

“Yeah.”

“Why, though?”

“Because Harpies have three titties, I don’t know, Eddie, I didn’t make the movie.”

“Well, like—does she need the extra one?” He never noticed it before.

“I don’t know, I’m more concerned about how human they look. I get that harpies are kinda supposed to look a little human, but she’s really fugly and not at all human in appearance. They really gave her three human boobs and called it a day. Could have at least given her a human head or some hair but no.”

Eddie’s focused on you, watching you from the corners of his eyes as you rant. One of the things that had broken the awkwardness when you first met was your love of fantasy. You weren’t as obvious about it as he was with his, but he’d seen you reading your copy of The Sword in the Stone after you’d finished a test early, in the English class he shared with you, right before the end of your sophomore year. He’d spent the whole summer wondering about you and he’d been grateful when Heather had been inducted in the group, bringing you with her in the fall. When he failed, he’d been bummed but knowing he got to spend more time with you, learn more about you eased the ache. Falling in love with you had just about healed it completely, and with your encouragement, he was on track to graduate alongside you this year.

When Eddie doesn’t respond, you turn your head to him, raising your brows when you notice his gaze is fixed on you, “You okay, Eddie?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, kid.”

He really is, he’s thinking about all the things he loves about you. How animated you get when you’re excited about something, the way you get all shy when you realize just how excited you’d been, how optimistic you were even when you were having the worst of days—you never lashed out at anyone because of it, how you always put others first (you always claimed to be selfish but the moment you realized you could help someone instead of yourself, you did it), how forgiving you were (Steve had been somewhat of a jerk to you when he was still King Steve but the moment you realized he was genuine in his redemption, you never brought it up and always made sure to mention how he’s grown as a person when someone else brings it up and yeah, Eddie was a little jealous about that). How unapologetically yourself you were, silliness and all (like how you’d gone as Jamie Lloyd in her clown costume with the red nose and mask, from the Halloween movie while everyone else was dressed as provocative as possible for Zoe’s halloween party—and then you’d gone to Tina’s party as an angel with very little covering you up, because you could do both, and Eddie had to spend the entire night hiding an erection). Or how you made the wall flower kids, that Steve and the others sometimes couldn’t see needed attention, feel seen; Lucas, Will and Jane loved it when you came around. They always referred to you and Jonathan as their play parents and yes, Eddie got incredibly jealous with that, too.

And then there was the way you made Eddie feel. Despite his growing friendships, he had still felt a sense of loneliness, still needed his alone time because they overwhelmed him a bit. But not you. You snuck up on him, came into his life so quietly you hadn’t disturbed any of the foundation he’d built around himself to keep the world away, yet still somehow ended up on the same side of the wall with him. When his head got loud, you were there to hush all the thoughts, bringing him a sense of peace. He hardly had to even defend himself to verbal lashings anymore because you were putting whoever it was in their place without even being mean about it, which made him feel like people really were just messing with him to be jerks, like he wasn’t actually a freak. You made him feel like they were the problem, not him. When you looked at him, he felt like you were actually seeing him. Not Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, not the frontman to a band everyone thought was going nowhere, not some high school repeat, not some drug dealer, not trailer trash, just Eddie.

God, and the way you said his name! You’d beam, sit up straighter while you flashed him that beautiful smile and Eddie felt like he somehow lit up the room for you, despite you already being the brightest thing in any room.

He’d had crushes before, on Chrissy Cunningham, on Ally Citronni, Tammy Thompson—she talked to him, okay? He was lucky if a girl didn’t walk away giggling with her friends and not in the ‘I just talked to a cute boy’ way and she was a nice girl—even the fucking counselor and yeah, he’d had one on you, had expected it to go away like it had with the others, but it hadn’t. Instead, it blossomed into something so intense he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t fucking sleep, he couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t related to you.

Love on the fucking brain.

He’d even been forced to talk to Wayne about you when Tommy H. had asked you out in an attempt to make Carol jealous during one of their break ups. Even though you’d flat out said no, it had been a reality check for Eddie. Someone could easily just steal you away. Eddie hadn’t been able to sleep right for a week, and he hadn’t even touched his guitars, prompting an Uncle Wayne intervention, that conversation led him here. And all of the other times he’d tried—failed—to tell you how he felt.

You went back to watching the movie, but not Eddie. He was ready for this, fuck the hints.

“I’m glad I’m not in this movie cause I would have started sprinting, then she’d kil─”

Eddie had placed a finger on the side of your chin, directing your face to his instead of the TV while you had been talking and you hadn’t been able to drag your eyes away from the action on screen but that didn’t stop him from kissing you, lips pressing firmly against yours.

That caught your attention.

Your eyes widen as you realize what’s happening and when it becomes clear Eddie won’t be pulling away, you melt into him, eyelids fluttering shut while you return the kiss with the same amount of fervor. The rest of his hand comes to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek as he licks at your lips. They part for him almost instantly and he moans at the first taste of you, tongue swiping against yours.

Eddie dominates the kiss and you’re helpless to do anything but respond as he explores your mouth, licking any chance of coherency right off your tongue. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him, onto his lap and you can’t quite believe that he’s cradling you like this, as though you were something important to him. You can’t even believe he’s kissing you, let alone this thoroughly!

When Eddie finally—and very reluctantly—pulls away, there’s a string of spittle connecting your lips. You lick it up and Eddie nearly creams his pants right there.

You stare up at him, eyes wide and vulnerable as Eddie leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, thumb still stroking your cheek.

“I love you, kid. I’m in love with you. Messed me up the moment Heather dragged you over to the lunch table and you wouldn’t let go of the seat you’d been sitting on at your old table. Had a feeling it’d be you, I hoped it would.” He confesses, voice gentle and nearly a whisper into the charged air between the two of you.

You want to cry the happiest of tears as you finally confess during a moment you genuinely thought wouldn’t come, not after the circumstances of how the night had started for you, “I love you so much, Eddie. You’re all I think about; I can’t sleep, I-I can’t eat and when I didn’t think you could love me I couldn’t breathe. I love you, I love you so much and I wanted to tell you, I did but I was so scared you wouldn’t love me and I’d ruin it all but I do! I love you.”

Eddie’s on you in an instant, lips insistent against yours and you can’t help the few tears that slip out but Eddie’s quick to wipe them away, trying to convey just how much he loves you with his kisses. When he pulls away again, he rests his forehead against yours.

“I’ve tried to tell you so many times, baby. I just—I fucking suck. That’s it,” the way Eddie says it makes you laugh and he smiles at the sound, leaning forward to press another kiss to your lips. “I fucking suck. I have loved you for so long, and I should have told you a long ass time ago, a fucking year ago. You really are the life of my party—love of my life, actually. You’re it for me, like—fuck.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, but you can be patient now, you’re willing to wait for him forever.

When he speaks again, the playful edge is gone, “I want to marry you.”

Your breath hitches along with your heartbeat and Eddie continues, “Not yet, not while we’re in school, but I’m positive I want to marry you. Hell, if I didn’t think I’d distract the shit out of you, I’d carry you to the courthouse right now—don’t be a smart ass, I know what you’re gonna say and I’m very aware they’re not open right now—but I’d sit there and wait. That’s how sure I am. So when we’re ready, when you’re ready, if you’ll have me, I’m gonna marry you. But for now, would you—I don’t know, wanna be my girlfriend?”

You yank him down for another kiss, multiple before you’re pressing them all over his face and you’re sure he’s smiling, can feel his cheeks pull up when your lips pass over them.

“Yes, yes I want to marry you someday and yes, I want to be your girlfriend. I want you, Eddie, and I’ll take you anyway I can have you.”

Eddie pulls you even further to him, something you didn’t think was possible, as he hugs you, the hand on your cheek traveling up to cradle the back of your head.

You can’t see his face in this position, your face is pretty much pressed into the crook of his neck, but you’re sure he’s crying, can feel the wetness on the side of your forehead.

Your arms wrap around his middle, inching the fabric of his shirt up so your fingers can press into his back. Despite the seriousness of your conversation, Eddie lurches forward into the bed and you squeal as you go with him, back meeting your blankets.

“Eddie!” You’re pinned underneath him, and Eddie has no plans on moving.

“Hm?”

“Get off!”

“You just told me you’ll have me any way you want me and now you want me off of you? I am all for the chase, baby, but you really gotta make up your mind.”

“Ugh,” you groan, admitting defeat as your arms wrap around him once more to hold him and he lets out a content sigh, nose nudging your head. You turn your head in the direction and he presses another sweet kiss to your lips before nuzzling his nose against yours.

“I’m gonna run down the halls on monday and tell everyone you’re my girlfriend.”

“How predictable of you.”

“Kid, I swear to God.”

You and Eddie will have to save The Last Unicorn and the harpy with three boobs for another time, too swept up in each other to pay it any mind.

2K notes · View notes

stevesjockstrap · 7 months

Text

Eddie Month day 8

prompt: rockstar & confident

Eddie looked up into the most beautiful face he’d ever seen.

“Hey there, easy, don’t try to get up yet. Can you tell me how many fingers you see?” The beautiful man came more into frame. There might’ve been a couple of him.

“Eight? Or maybe six?” He answered confidently. “Are you my husband?” The man sucked in a breath and looked away, searching for something. Eddie didn’t like that. “I don’t care how many fingers you have, gorgeous. That doesn’t matter at all to me. The more the merrier-“

“Get someone, I don’t understand why they don’t have medical or someone. He’s definitely concussed. Because I know, okay? Just, ugh, stop arguing with me and go find someone in charge. Or try to flag down someone on stage.”

Eddie had no idea what was happening, but his very hot husband seemed to be handling everything. He laid back and continued to stare up at him. There was a sharp pain on his temple and a dull ache in his head and his left wrist, but that couldn’t matter much.

“Forgive me baby, but I seem to have forgotten your name.” He smirked up at him. He reached a hand out to the middle person as his vision swam. That was fine, too.

The beautiful man knelt back down next to him and took his hand. “I’m Steve. You didn’t know my name before, though. We sort of just met. You fell off the stage during a sound check. And no one seems to give a fuck that you’re hurt and probably have a concussion.” That seemed like a lot. His temple pulled tight and he hissed when he tried to frown to think. “Don’t worry, though. I’m going to take care of you.”

“I’m not worried, Stevie.” He pulled their connected hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of his husband’s. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Oh man,” he heard him sigh. They were so in love. Eddie smiled and closed his eyes. It hurt to try to focus on the multiples of Steve and the people moving around behind him.

“What’s going on?” Someone with a stern voice made him jump some time later. He opened his eyes and saw Steve was still kneeling with him, so he closed his eyes again. He didn’t have to worry, Steve would handle it.

“He fell off the stage and hit his head. No one even came to check on him. He’s out of it and confused and probably concussed. He’s seeing at least double and he thinks- um, he thinks he knows me and he doesn’t.”

He perked up at that. “Well I think I would know my own husband!”

The new guy blinked at him then turned back to Steve. “Okay. An ambulance is on its way. Do you think we can get him over to the parking lot? It’s going to be a mess to try to get a stretcher through the crowd.”

Steve mumbled something under his breath that sounded like a combination of very creative swear words and Eddie chuckled. His husband was such a hard ass.

“We can try but if he gets dizzy or worse we’re stopping and you’re just going to have to do something to get a stretcher here. How do you plan a festival with zero medical staff? This is fucking ridiculous and-“

“It’s okay, baby, I can walk.” He sat up quickly and the crowd spun around him. “Woah. Maaaaybe not.”

“Exactly. Okay, lay back down. I got you.” Steve’s other hand came around the back of his head to guide him as he leaned back. There was a rolled up shirt or something he hadn’t realized had been tucked behind his head. Probably Steve’s. He was such a good husband.

There was a bunch more talking above him and he didn’t really listen. Steve’s voice got louder and more stern and then calmed down. A female voice came and Steve seemed to calm down even more.

“I love you so much, Stevie. Taking such good care of me. Gunna suck your dick so good when we get home.”

Steve made a choking noise and someone giggled next to them.

“Eddie!” A familiar voice called. “Eddie what the fuck?”

He opened his eyes to see Gareth and Jeff hovering over him. “Oh hey guys,” he greeted them. When he tried to sit up a hand pushed his chest back down. “Stevie here is taking care of everything. I guess I hit my head?”

“We thought you just disappeared. They finally got Chrissy on the radio to tell us you fell and they’re waiting on an ambulance. What the fuck, dude? And who is Steve?”

“Steve, my husband? Obviously.” He waved their conjoined hands for emphasis.

He looked up to see Steve wince and Gareth and Jeff share a puzzled look. The hand on his chest left.

“Sorry. Hi, I’m Steve. I was just sort of here, when he fell. He’s confused. I think he has a concussion.”

He watched them all shake hands, the guys now looking more concerned than before.

“Shit, man. If we don’t play we don’t get paid. We need this.”

“We can stay with him, if that’ll help. Can you go on without him?” Steve offered.

The guys shared another look. Jeff shrugged, “I mean, we probably have to. We can swap out some of the songs where he’s the lead-“ he looked around. “We need to go talk to Chrissy. Gareth, give him your number so he can keep in contact with us. We really appreciate this, Steve.” Jeff disappeared and he watched, confused, as Steve handed Gareth his phone. Why were they acting like they didn’t know each other?

Before he could question anyone, there was a stretcher and people in uniforms helped get him onto it and wheeled him through a crowd of people. He kept his eyes on Steve who stayed beside him and held his hand the entire way.

“You riding with us?” The EMT asked Steve after they locked the stretcher into the ambulance.

Eddie answered, “Of course, this is my husband.”

Steve sighed. “Yes and no. I’m coming. I am not his husband, though. He’s concussed and we just met.”

The other EMT raised her eyebrows. “Alright then. Glad you were around.”

Steve settled onto the seat next to him and took his hand again.

Eddie settled back and looked up at him. “Me too.”

@eddiemonth

#Going out of order because my brain wanted to do this instead of kinktober today #Eddie month #eddie month fic #Mine #Steve’s a concussion expert #Steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #corroded coffin #stranger things #stranger things fic

251 notes · View notes

sixosix · 1 year

Text

KATSUKI & IZUKU: IT WENT LIKE THAT

( ? ) an interview from you (following the events of “it goes like this”)

you’re not saying you regret coming here, but you regret coming here a little bit.

“so, y/n-san,” kana says with a dangerous sparkle in her eyes. you’re acutely aware of the camera pointed right at you. “onto the next question: who’s your celebrity crush?”

“celebrity crush…? oh, that’s a hard one.” there are excited murmurs from the audience, all speculating. there are whispers about bakugou and izuku’s names; you pointedly ignore them. “i don’t know, really. a tie between mirko and hawks.”

izuku is going to grill you about this later.

“ah, makes sense,” kana nods, accepting your answer without further digging. “they’re the top two every time i ask that question.”

you don’t know how to respond to that, so you opt for a smile and a nod.

kana lights up when she moves on to the next question, and the people seated in rows across you fall hushed in anticipation. she giggles, almost maniacally, bringing the mic closer to her lips.

“you’re really close with deku and dynamight, right?”

you already know where this is going. with practiced ease, you lean against the couch, picking careful words that wouldn’t make villains froth in the mouths for a chance to break your ties. “we’re a trio.”

“right, right!” kana shivers with glee. “so, tell us about your favorite moment with deku and dynamight!”

there are cheers of encouragement and approval, nearly startling you out of your seat had you not been prepared. but any mention of their names when talking to you is always the most prominent font in headlines.

you have a feeling that once you return home, you’ll be bombarded with a series of explosions from katsuki and embarrassed whining from izuku. but that’s a problem for you later—right now, you’re here to please the audience.

“what’s my favorite moment with deku and dynamight?”

your first and favorite memory with bakugou katsuki was witnessing the start of his crude language. he taught you the phrase ‘eat shit and die’, and you find it funny to say, so you let him teach you.

he found out about it from a world-weary employee walking past and cursing out his phone, frustrated to hell. he wasn’t dressed like a villain, only someone who carried dark eyebags and a dingy, old phone. he shut up pretty quickly upon the sight of katsuki’s sharp red eyes as if expecting him to tattle tale to his mom.

instead, he turned to you and izuku, and recited those words wholeheartedly. he found the horrified looks of grown-ups to be funny.

izuku was confused, and you cackled.

he took this as encouragement because the next day, he’d found thousands of creative ways to spew nonsensical insults strung together loosely with shit and fuck.

“it fucking helps me express my shitty emotions,” five-year-old katsuki said solemnly, right after he tormented izuku with a bunch of it just to stress the poor boy out. izuku had to learn the hard way that eat shit and die is not a phrase of encouragement.

(katsuki’s smile was strangely fond and soft when you kept laughing—not that you’d indulge the audience too much by giving them that.)

“so dynamight was always like this, huh…” kana murmurs thoughtfully, giggling along with the audience.

“it’s not surprising,” you snort, “he’s fluent in the arts of being a little brat, as his parents say. we still love him for it, don’t we?”

your first and favorite memory with midoriya izuku was when you met him.

you don’t remember every detail—only bits and pieces that often keep you awake at night, thinking, “if things turned out differently, would i still be here?”. the answer was yes, you would. on a stage someday, maybe, but to miss out on izuku and katsuki sounds like a bland world to live in.

you recall stumbling into the classroom, still hanging on to the fragments of sleep your family rudely interrupted just for something as stupid as kindergarten.

katsuki was surrounded by the class, preening like a proud cat. izuku, on the other hand, was staring right at you with wide, curious eyes that resembled a puppy.

“do you have a quirk?” he asked, and the fun facts about your pet fish you practiced the day beforehand all dissipated instantly.

“i… do,” you murmured, thumbing at the hem of your shirt. “‘s not cool, though. so i don’t want to tell you.”

the strange boy with green curls looked as if you had just told him that all might retired. “i bet that’s not true! every quirk is cool! kacchan has a quirk that makes him boom!”

“...boom?”

he nodded, beaming, hopping up and down. “he can create explosives with his hands by igniting the nitroglycerin he sweats!”

“um, excuse me?” who even is kacchan? and what’s a night-row-glistening?

he continued to peer up at you as if the kacchan person was enough to convince you to reveal your secrets to him.

(you leave this part from the audience, knowing that it would raise suspicion about izuku’s quirk origins, but it went like this:

tired and a little irritated, you ask, “what’s your quirk, huh?”

izuku froze, his expression blanking for a split second before it fell into a hesitant one. “i don’t have one, yet. but i’ll get it soon! and even if i didn’t have a quirk, that wouldn’t stop me from becoming a hero!”)

and so, you focused on the pen in his hand and tried to hide a smirk when his jaw dropped to the floor when it began to float mid-air, followed shortly after by his notebook. (your quirk is nothing special. useful, maybe—especially in your line of work where you’re in charge of handling hero equipment—but nothing special. until now, you never understood why izuku…)

“oi, deku, who’s this?” a blond materialized out of nowhere, staring blankly at a pen and notebook hovering.

“kacchan!” deku practically shrieked, ignoring the grunt of christ from his best friend. “kacchan, look! this quirk is so cool, isn’t it?”

you felt your face warm at the praise, your poor heart racing. “it’s really nothing.”

kacchan eyed your expression, quirked a brow at izuku’s, then shrugged. “‘s pretty cool, yeah.”

“your quirk is like my mom’s! she can pull my toys towards her, but you can do it a bajillion more times!” deku squealed. “can i please be your friend? please? kacchan doesn’t bite, and i promise i’ll only ask three questions a day!”

your fate was sealed to both of them the moment you said yes. not that you were complaining.

“ah, y/n!” izuku all but scrambles to the door when you open it, his smile taking up most of his face. “you’re home!”

“i’m home,” you agree, grinning. izuku reaches for your bag, and you let him take it as you wriggle out of your shoes. “did i miss dinner?”

“yeah, it’s fucking cold now,” katsuki sneers as he appears from the kitchen. “go shower, i can smell you from here.” still, he does not complain when izuku tosses him your bag; instead, he places it gently on the couch.

“we watched your interview,” izuku says, gently pushing you towards the dining table despite katsuki’s chiding. “you did well! i told you they’d love you.”

“now,” katsuki says as soon as you sit down, “tell us what happened.”

“what…? you said you already watched it.”

“yeah, but, i like it better hearing it from you,” katsuki says, like it should be the most obvious thing in the world. “because it’s funnier,” he clarifies, glaring, “stop laughing, deku.”

ok guys!!!!! this little au is fun and all but HONESTLY im out of ideas and i do not have the brainpower to turn this into a series so this is the last one </3 GUYS I ACTUALLY HATE THIS i finished half of it it in one sitting but ill die if i delay it another day

#606:BNHA #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #mha fluff #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha drabbles #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #izuku midoria x reader

447 notes · View notes

sizzleissues · 3 hours

Text

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

#miraculous ladybug #sizzle sketches #miraculous #miraculous fanart #ml fanart #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #mermay #mermaid au #Ml art

66 notes · View notes

roadkillsthings · 28 days

Text

“stop writing jegulus like…” “*insert marauder character here* wouldn’t act like this”

What’s it with people nowadays wanting to control how every fic and or hc should be portrayed?? Imo the whole thing about the marauder fandom that makes it interesting is the fact that there is such little actual cannon things to go on for some characters or practically nonexistent things and that it’s essentially a blank canvas already set in a well known universe and “developed” background. It’s literally free rein to portray whatever characters however you like, and such the ships (platonic and romantic) and dynamics. Which means there is such variety in how characters are shown - whilst also having a big enough fandom that some people agree on certain hcs and include them in a number of fics.

Sure, you personally may not share a writers same views and opinions on a character or ship but that doesn’t mean everyone else around you has to agree with you, or you them!

And yes, some things may not be seen as “realistic” or “time period accurate” but for the love of god, we’re talking about a universe with a bunch of dead WIZARDS - along side werewolves and the ability to become a shape shifting animal at will… the last thing about the basis of the fandom is a far cry from realism.

there have been plenty of fanfics or hcs that i have just personally disagreed with, but rather than kick off at a writer for being incorrect… you can simply stop reading and find another fic that does suit your needs.

Writing is about creativity and just writing whatever the fuck you want, regardless of how shit or amazing it may be. Not about stomping on people who don’t write exactly how you do or how you like

TLDR: stop being dicks and let other people be happy and enjoy their little dead gay wizards :]

#marauders #jegulus #jegulily #james potter #wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #evan rosier #dorcas meadowes #lily evans #barty crouch jr #dead gay wizards

65 notes · View notes

moonnightdew · 7 months

Text

💓 Love & Romance Messages 💓

The Four Of Cups

There is no true focus on love & romance for this bunch, because you are meant to be focused on yourself.

You are in a single & solitude era. You are being called to focus on your own well being at this time. Protecting your peace, self discovery & being your own bae is important.

Some of you may be bored, rejecting, or just unaware of romantic suitors at this time.

I’m seeing offers, but at this time you’ll be every cutthroat, picky & unbothered.

I see some in some form a therapy or healing for mental health, trauma, family or generational curses and that’s being prioritized. I also see education being a focused too, so some of you may be a student, going back to school, taking courses, becoming certified or established and diving into religion & spirituality.

This isn’t a time to get stuck in analysis paralysis, pondering of the past or what could be in the future— be here now. Clear out the clutter, keep it true & straight & just have fun at this time. Use discernment to know if anything is worth disturbing your peace for.

The Seven Of Pentacles

*There are many scenarios here

Love & Romance is focused on stability, change, freedom and a provider or partner with status, wealth or power.

For some of you, a decision between 2 partners or deciding what kind of partner you want is indicated. Remember your values, what you truly need to be fulfilled and think long-term. Be mindful of your intentions & what you’re investing time, money & energy into.

An attraction to a foreigner, or a wealth person in power is indicated ( a police officer, lawyer, doctor, celebrity)

A level up is needed— meaning your partner will have to level up for you OR you will have to level up for your partner. One person is more established, experienced & successful than the other. So love is coming in, but someone needs to get to a specific big point as far as money, fame, career or networking.

Ex: you want to pursue a celebrity romantically. Think about what you’d have to do to even be able to walk up to this person. We’re all human, but it’s very unlikely that’d you just be able to be with a celeb easily. If you live in a small town, run a small business, or a small social media account— what can you do to get noticed while staying true to yourself? How can you level up your reputation to eventually be known by this celeb?

*Don’t focus too hard on specific celebrity, wealthy or just successful person. You might want a specific celeb like a singer, but end up with a famous songwriter or producer instead. You might want an actress/ actor, but end up with a NFL OR NBA star.

A big move is how you meet this person. Your creative passion, career/ job or public reputation is how you meet this person. ( and vice versa)

(You may be moving to a new city, state or country. Starting a business that becomes successful & well known or you become famous on social media or in your state for your career)

For those of you already in a relationship ( someone not on your level, someone you settled with or already married or in a relationship with someone else) either they put in the work to change & level up for you OR leave that other person or relationship— or you leave them behind. You’ve outgrown someone and they want to continue to do the same things, which will hold you back. Some of you are with someone who knows your worth & knows you can do better. So they’re keeping you stagnant, so you won’t go to someone better.

I see a time of being single & going through a glow up.

How am I settling? What do I need to do to level up? What have I outgrown? Is the old keeping me from the new? How can I bring in someone on my frequency, when I’m being help back by lower frequencies? What am I wasting / what am I not taking advantage of? What am I underestimating?

*some of you need to read pile #3

The Wheel Of Fortune

Love & Romance is focused around time management, whirlwind romances, prioritizing finances or yourself.

You will have many opportunities regarding love & romance, however it depends on YOU.

There’s a huge energy of you prioritizing, something else over your live life. It’s indicated that you’re prioritizing something that will bring you security, more money, status or fulfillment currently or in the future. ( work, business, creative pursuits, savings, body transformation, mental health, self care & singledom)

So the energy is “what can you bring to MY table, that I can’t already serve myself?”.

Now this can be you or a person you’re interested in, so this can be vice versa.

Being to busy, high standard, demanding, spoiled, unattainable independent or happily single may intimidate a lot of people. You may be approach by people who want you to dim your light, slow down, be less busy, make time and open or change your schedule around for them. The question is: are they worth it.

Be mindful of sacrificing or delaying what’s important to you & good for you ( in the long run) , to entertain or accommodate someone who wants your attention for a minute.

How can I make time for romance? What am I putting aside for someone else? Do I jump at love without thinking? Is love important right now? How do I romance myself? Can I wait for love? Is this attention really a distraction from my goals?

The Knight of cups

Love & Romance is focused around broken promises, healing, forgiveness, apologies, communication, love language & opening your heart.

( I see an indication of friendship here, as well as a broken commitment ( promise ring, engagement, marriage)

You are still dealing with a blow to the heart. Feelings of being left behind, stabbed in the back, revenge, & picking up the pieces is emphasized.

For some a strong energy of forgiveness or an apology is here. I see many feeling guilty of hurting you and vice versa.

Someone you’ve blocked & refuse to talk to— wants to communicate with you. I’m seeing conversations about the past, reunions, laying it out on the table, expressing truths, emotions & apologies. However, it does not mean this person (s) will stay in your life. Be mindful of selective hearing or seeing; do not overlook unchanged behavior or old tricks.

*A scorned woman or man may resonate with you.

I see many of you single & isolating yourself from many out anger & pain.

For other, these are ghost wounds from the past. This has already happened to you, but you fear it will happen again. Feelings of guilt, shame & anger will arise as you ponder on seemingly wasted time. Don’t turn the sword onto yourself. Know that nothing is wasted & this will add to you wisdom & growth in the long run. Take these Ls & turn them into MORE love… make lemonade. Do not allow another’s wounds to bleed onto you, do not allow bitterness to make you a lemon. Release the sourness you’ve experienced & add sweetener to your life. To sweeten, does not mean to sugarcoat— it means taking the sour & salty moments and making the best of it. Honey is used to heal as well…

Allow the ice to melt & warm your heart again. Allow for new love in all forms to come to you ❤️‍🩹

You are being called to confront your fears & triggers. People from the past may come back to you, so you can close & heal old wounds. You’ll be tackling feelings of your worth.

Do you stay true to yourself? Do you value yourself? Do you give the power to determine your worth, what you deserve & who you are to another? How can you take back your power & your heart? How can you sweeten? How can you open your heart again?

158 notes · View notes