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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

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Your dragon boss saves you from marriage

General Plot: You're engaged to a dragon prince, but you aren't exactly thrilled. Neither is your boss.

Dragon (Calista) x female reader

Word Count: 2.5k

W: slight yandere vs. yandere vibe, sfw dragon fluff, threats of bad haircuts

“Put that down (Y/N),” your boss Calista growled in her irish accent, “you’re not even supposed to be here today, love. Fox is gonna piss ‘imself if you’re not at the hair salon.”

You blinked up at her and froze with the reports in your hand.

“Do I really have to go?” you groaned.

She gave you a quick sympathetic look but schooled her face. Calista didn’t care for your fiance and her nephew Fox. His clan of dragon shifters had all but adopted you when you were a teenager and it turned out the payment for that kindness was his father expecting the two of you to be married.

You weren’t even a dragon, but Fox was a spoiled dragon prince and he got what he wanted. He wanted you to be his wife so his father put aside eons of tradition to declare you, a random human commoner, to be his fiance.

The two of them had been picking out wedding venues and dragged you to a dozen samplings from everything from wine to cake to florists. Fox thought you were the cutest, tiniest human and wanted to do nothing more than dress you up like a cupcake and prance you all around in front of his friends, showing off his improvements. He’d gotten you braces to straighten your teeth and paid for expensive facial treatments to fix your acne.

If it weren’t for him and his father you would have never graduated college or gotten this killer job as an accountant for Calista. You owed them everything, still…you just weren’t in love with Fox. Sure, he was handsome. He was eight feet tall with pretty red horns and golden skin, but he was a bit immature and he treated you like you were dumb as a rock, even though you’d done most of his homework for him in college.

Calista sighed and rubbed her eyes, seeming to be working on some inner conflict.

“I’ll escort you,” she finally said, taking the papers out of your hands and flopping them on your desk.

Your phone rang and you groaned when you read Fox’s name on the screen.

“H-hello?” you said into the phone.

“(Y/N) the salon called and said you missed your appointment. Don’t tell me you forgot about our dinner tonight and went to work, silly girl?” he chuckled into the phone, “you’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your neck! You’ll have to go to the hair salon after the nail salon and then the stylist.”

Of course you didn’t forget. You didn’t want to go. Fox had been going on and on about you getting a different haircut before the wedding and how cute it would make your face, but you didn’t want to cut your hair.

You were supposed to be preparing for a royal dinner with all of his prissy dragon prince friends from across the country who had flown in for the celebration. He only wanted to show you off, you wouldn’t be expected or even allowed to speak.

You were supposed to look cute while he talked about what a saint he was for marrying a human, even though this was all his idea in the first place. He loved to go on and on about how he and his father had rescued you from poverty, but that wasn’t entirely true.

Calista is the one who had discovered you initially. She’d been volunteering with young women at a math bootcamp put on for underprivileged youth and you’d been the teen she’d been assigned to. She’d been impressed with your intelligence, even though you didn’t have any natural aptitude for mathematics and made it her project to give you some skills that would feed you in the future.

She’d brought you around her office when you graduated high school to give you an internship and that’s where you’d met Fox and his father. Fox had immediately stolen you away, being your same age, insisting that the two of you attend the same college, have the same friends, and eventually date.

Suddenly he was paying your tuition, your rent, your car note, your food, everything. You felt so indebted to his family for what they’d done for you, you didn’t feel comfortable saying no. So now, to your dismay, several years later, you’d somehow committed yourself to walking down the aisle with him. No one really even asked you. He just showed up with a ring one day and declared you were his fiance, being sure to mention how grateful you must be to be chosen as a dragon’s princess.

“Sorry, I got caught up at work,” you said robotically, “Calista reminded me and is going to take me over.”

“Great!” he said, “I’ll send her the picture for the hair dresser. That woman’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

That wasn’t a sarcastic comment. Calista was the only reason the lavish dragons could stay afloat. She did financial miracles to counteract their ridiculous spending and she was a genius with corporate strategy. The whole place would fall apart without her to hold it all together with tape and glue. There was a ding and Callista’s long fingers extracted her phone from her navy blue suit pocket. Her ice blue eyes narrowed on the picture Fox had sent her.

“Bangs?” you saw her mouth with distaste.

“Hang up the phone,” she said suddenly.

You glanced up at her and quickly mumbled goodbye to Fox, pressing the red button to end the call.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

She looked at you for a long time. Calista was beautiful, with white-blonde hair and sky blue eyes, framed with a few smile lines that hinted at her age. She was tall, like every dragon, approaching nine feet not including the shimmery blue horns emerging from her head, with a thick, curvy form. Your eyes had always lingered on her rather large bosom, to your own embarrassment. It was just hard to miss and at your height more often than not you were face to face with them.

Her fingers drifted up to your cheek and she gave you a small smile, before taking your hand firmly in hers. Her heels clicked on the shiny marble flooring as she hurried you through the building.

“Stay here for just a second,” she said, leading you into her corner office.

She pushed aside a picture to reveal a safe and opened it, hurriedly pulling stacks of cash from it and shoving them in her purse.

“I don’t think the hairdresser will cost that much,” you said, confused.

She laughed to herself and grabbed a few other things, a pistol, some documents, and some jewelry.

“Grab my laptop,” she said so you would be looking away when she extracted a magical sword that could pierce dragon scales and transformed it into a reasonably sized pocket knife she could stuff in her purse.

You hurried back with the laptop confused as to why Calista was packing so much stuff just to take you to the hairdresser. When she was happy she had everything she needed she looked down at you, dragging you close to her by the waist.

Your eyes widened, confused by the sudden contact, but your cheeks flooded with color.

“Calista…” you started.

“Shut up,” she said and to your utter shock pressed her lips to yours.

You blinked for one second and then your eyes closed and you sank into her lips. She smelled like lilacs and tasted like honey and green tea. Moaning into her mouth you tipped your head to the side to grant her entrance. Her agile tongue licked yours and the cave of your mouth, tasting you. Groaning you hopped into her arms, winding your ankles around her back, hiking your skirt up and she pressed you back into the wall behind you. She pulled back.

“I’m not letting you marry that fucking brat,” she gasped, pulling you into her lips again and speaking through frantic kisses, “but what I’m going to do…is dangerous...I might have to kill him…and my brother.”

“I’m scared,” you gasped, sharing breaths and searching her eyes, “I don’t want to lose you.”

This wave of passion hit you like a freight train. Suddenly every gentle moment you’d ever shared with Calista came rushing back to you. She’d always been there to hold your hand or wipe away your tears and better yet she always put you back on your feet and convinced you to keep fighting.

You saw Fox when he made you two spend time together, but Calista is who you sought out for real companionship. You’d shared with her your secrets, your firsts. She knew everything about you. You didn’t want Fox to die, but if you had to choose…you wanted Calista more.

Your phone rang again and Calista jerked it out of your pocket, dropping it on the floor and stomping it with her heel. Her nose brushed yours and she tipped her head forward to let your eyelashes mingle.

“We have to go now,” she whispered and you nodded even though you were grinding your hips into her ribs.

She kissed you again, before reluctantly pulling away and tossing you over her shoulder like you weighed nothing. You didn’t know how many times Calista had held herself back from you or even more often held herself back from decking Fox as he slobbered all over you.

She’d found you. You belonged to her, not some spoiled prince who could barely tie his own shoes. But she was a mature dragon. It had never been in her nature to paw at you like a lovesick schoolgirl, but as she carried you to her Jag she wondered if her discretion had all been a mistake. She’d let him take things too far and now she was blood thirsty and furious.

You were too young for her, she’d thought at first. That’s why she had waited so long. She was hundreds of years old, you weren’t even 50. She’d convinced herself the proper thing to do would be to stand by your side and protect you discreetly. She held sway with her brother because really she pulled all the strings.

Wyatt was a helpless idiot who ruled mostly on his good looks and her creativity. She could watch you, making sure that idiot Fox never really harmed you. But that had been a foolish lie she was telling herself, wasn’t it? She’d never truly intended to let him have you, had she? She’d been putting off the inevitable all along.

To hell with that, she thought as she peeled out of the parking garage with your big, wet eyes on her.

When you reached the mansion, where Calista, you and a few other inner circle dragons lived with Wyatt you watched her pull the pistol and oddly a pocket knife from her purse and shove them into the pocket of her suit jacket.

Then she pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail and dragged you out of the car with her, holding you like luggage. You could have argued with her that you could walk, but the look on her face told you to keep your fucking mouth shut. You’d seen her make this expression a few times before when she marched into a boardroom and overtook a company.

One of the guards met her at the door and she gave him a nod, saying more than you understood because he and a few other dragon guards fell in line behind her as you made your way through the mansion.

You found Fox and his father in their study, drinking and laughing. They were immediately on alert when Calista walked in with death on her face and six dragon guards at her back.

“What’s the meaning of this Calista?” Wyatt asked, his face full of shock, “is there an emergency?”

“(Y/N) is mine,” she said flatly, “the kid doesn’t touch her.”

They both spoke at once.

“What the fuck do you mean kid?!”

“You’re joking Calista!”

“I’m serious as a fuckin’ heart attack, he puts his rotten hands on ‘er I’m cuttin’ ‘em off,” she said and your eyes got large sitting in her arm, “we can do this one of two ways. You can go on playing regents like good little lads and leave ‘er to me or I lob your heads off right now and then go for a pint with the boys here. No one likes you. No one wants you and I’ve only kept you around because you make good decoys. My kindness goes no further.”

The father and son’s wide eyes glanced over Calista’s shoulder to the assembled guards who were in no uncertain terms on her side. Calista had fought for them to get health insurance and mental health days worked into their contracts. Wyatt and Fox had brushed off their concerns, saying dragons didn’t get sick or depressed, which wasn’t at all true.

“(Y/N)!” Fox shouted looking at you and crossing the room, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not gonna let her do this to you.”

Wyatt hurriedly put his arm on his son’s shoulder to stop him and you shook your head.

“Don’t call me that, Fox, I’m not yours,” you said from the safety of Calista’s arms, looping yours around her neck.

His face immediately dropped at your betrayal.

“You sneaky bitch! After everything we did for you?! You’re in on this?!” he snapped.

You shook your head, offended.

“I’m not in on-”

“Shh, love,” Calista said, a creepy smile appearing on her face as she set you down and took as step forward, reaching in her pocket for her knife, “I’m gonna cut the lad’s tongue from his-”

“I think that’s quite enough,” Wyatt said, pushing himself in front of his boy, trying to save his son’s life. He knew his older sister was terrifying and wouldn’t feel bad in the least for mangling his child. She came from a different time, a time when spoiled princes got bloody lessons for pissing off the elders next in line for the throne.

“Obviously,” Wyatt interjected, “you feel strongly about this, so we would never want to get in between you and clearly your mate.”

“Father!” Fox cried, but Wyatt just slapped him.

“Shut up, boy, if you want to live,” he snarled.

Calista stopped and frowned.

“Pity,” she said, crossing her arms and looking Fox up and down. She’d really been looking forward to paying him back for all of the kisses he’d stolen from you, every unwanted grope and touch she planned to get her revenge for. But that would have to come on a different day. Fox was young and stupid, he would give her an excuse.

She sighed and turned her back to him, letting him know she wasn’t in the least bit afraid, picking you up.

“Shall we go get that pint love?” she asked and you gave her a small smile, nodding.

#monster romance #dragon oc #dragon romance #monster girlfriend #dragon girlfriend #sfw romance #fantasy romance #fantasy fluff #dragon fluff #monster fluff #yandere fluff #female yandere

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reobsessed · 1 year

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A Knight and His Squire- Part one

Content warning- 18+, light smut, (for the time being) Luis x Leon fic Summary: Leon and Luis are trapped together in the basement, shackled together. Tensions rise as Luis begins to undress, desperate to find his smokes. Can the two men resist the alluring pull, trapped in the close confines of one another’s presence?

Here's a link to part 2!

Leon groaned as he strained to release himself from his restraints. His heavy panting filling the room, prompting the other man to raise an eyebrow.

"Ey need a break there, cowboy?"

Leon responded with an exhausted grunt.

“Perhaps you’re in need of an inhaler? Wait, this reminds me!” his loud proclamation, drowning out Leon’s heavy breathing.

“Reminds you of what?” Leon responded through grunts.

“Do me a favour there Sancho, perhaps you could put those large American hands to use and reach into my pocket and get me a smoke?” he punctuated the request with a sly grin.

Leon stared back in disgust, before shaking his head.

“Got gum if you want that?”

Luis recoiled.

“You Americans, such killjoys. More than willing to light up an entire country but cigarettes? That is where you draw the line?”

Leon ignored Luis in favour of tugging at his restraints once more, pulling the Spaniard along with them.

“I’m doing you a favour, those things’ll kill ya.”

“Ah yes I’m sure they’ll get me before the village full of monsters does,” Luis remarked sarcastically.

Leon continued to busy himself with the chains. They must have stripped him of his weapons back in the basement. He looked around the room once more, maybe there was a scrap of metal or stray paperclip he could use? Not that he could pick a lock with a paperclip but at least then he would feel like he was doing something. His mind didn’t fare well with silence and his hands needed a distraction. He was broken from his thoughts by a thud and the sound of metal clanking to the floor.

“What are you doing?” Leon asked quizzically.

“Well if you’re not gonna find me my smokes I’ll do it myself.” Luis began rummaging through his jacket pockets, pulling at Leon with every motion. “Ahh don’t tell me they took them, thieving bastards.” He was close to giving up when, in pure desperation he threw off his jacket and began rifling through the inner pockets. With the chains in the way he was unable to remove his jacket entirely, with it hanging limply on the string of chains behind him.

Leon had his back turned to the other man and was doing his best to ignore him but the constant tugging on his wrists sent him over the edge.

“Hey. Will you cut it ou-” his breath hitched. “What are you doing, what happened to your clothes??”

Luis looked up, his eyes full of uncharacteristic innocence.

“You wouldn’t help me, so I removed my jacket. Got a problem?”

The lack of a jacket wasn’t an issue. However, upon removing his jacket Luis had revealed a simple white button down shirt, a shirt in which he had neglected to button at least five of the top buttons putting his tanned chest on full display. Leon swallowed a lump in his throat, trying not to analyse every detail of the open window. His eyes latched on to each and every stray hair that protruded and curled below the man’s collar. It didn’t take him long to notice a scar etched deep into the man, starting just below his right shoulder, descending far below where Leon could see.

“Ah c’mon.” Luis had turned his jacket inside out, shaking it vigorously. Leon watched as various bits of rubbish fell into the man’s lap. Leon slapped his forehead with one hand, the sound of the slap and clanging metal caused Luis to snap his head up in Leon’s direction.

“What is it?” Luis began to crawl backwards on his hands upon meeting Leon’s intense glare. Panic struck him as Leon began moving closer. “Wait wait wait. I’m sorry my friend, I didn’t mean to cause offence.” Luis tried retreating further but his back hit a wall. Leon was directly in front of him now. He slumped to his knees, inches away from where Luis had cowered away.

“You’re a goddamn mess.” as Leon reached out Luis flinched, his head hitting the back wall. He squinted his eyes expectantly, waiting for the approaching punch but he felt nothing. Tentatively he opened one eye, and then another. He stared wide eyed in shock as he watched his new companion fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“WAIT A SECO-” Luis froze. “Er, why are you doing up my buttons?”

“You shouldn’t expose yourself like that,” Leon scolded him, continuing upwards to another button. “Maybe it’s a culture thing,” he mumbled the last part. His pace had slowed considerably, the act of buttoning another man’s shirt wasn’t supposed to be this drawn out. He thought about the fabric of the man’s shirt, how creased and unruly it was (though the same could be said about the entire man’s appearance), the way dark hairs would tickle against his fingers as he fumbled with another button. Luis had gone silent for the first time since they’d been trapped together, he dared not even breath under Leon’s imposing presence.

Luis couldn’t help but compare his current situation to one he’d been in many times, no, not this exact situation but whenever he’d had any sort of success with a woman there had always been a considerable roadblock that prevented him from going any further, what would cause such a delay you ask? Why, man’s most despised invention of course! A detriment to both men and women alike (or so Luis thought) his hands had always felt twice as large and clumsy in those moments and even under the threat of death he would never admit to the times he’d failed.

Accursed bras he swore inwardly.

“Ah look at this.” Leon’s gaze dropped to the man’s lap. “Are you always this much of a mess?” Without thinking he reached out and began brushing paper and lint from Luis’ crotch.

Luis let out an unusually high pitched shout as he grabbed hold of Leon’s wrist.

“Are you er, dusting my porch Señor?”

Leon’s eyes grew wide when he realised what he was doing, he attempted to stand up but Luis’ grip wouldn’t give him up.

“Perhaps back in America they lack certain freedoms?” Luis’ mouth twisted into a conniving smile. “Chained underground with another man was all it took to send you over the edge.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Leon growled, trying to remain as stoic as possible. Luis gave him a sympathetic and knowing smile in response as he moved Leon’s hand back to his groin.

Leon looked at his hand then at Luis’ face, comically looking between the two repeatedly. Luis laughed at the man’s indecision.

“Such a gentleman.” Luis pressed Leon’s hand deeper into his crotch, letting out a soft moan as he did so. Leon paused, staring intently into Luis’ eyes.

“Wait, slow down. You don’t have to do anything,” Leon stammered, his eyes darting round the room desperately.

Luis laughed leaning forward on his knees until he was looking down on Leon.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, neither you nor anyone in this village can make me do anything I don’t want to do and I should think the same goes for you,” he stated, wrapping both arms round Leon’s neck.

Leon hesitantly brought up a pair of shaking hands, placing a hand on either side of Luis’ waist.

Does this guy eat properly, why’s his waist so damn small?

His thoughts were cut short as Luis brought Leon’s head closer, planting it directly into his chest.

“This is what you were so transfixed onto, no? Maybe instead this time we do the opposite of before?”

Leon felt his heart race and his head empty of coherent thoughts. He should have been focussed solely on his mission but it was as though an animal had awoken within him in that underground room and he was no longer able to resist his innermost desires.

He steadied his hands and this time grabbed onto Luis’ hips assertively, pulling him down with his firm grip. They were now sitting eye to eye.

Luis liked to think he exuded confidence, no stranger could resist his suave charm, especially not the ladies, so why was it that Leon intimidated him so? He couldn’t even look him in the eye without turning away abashedly.

All of a sudden he let out a yelp as he felt Leon’s hands creep up from the hem of his shirt. His fingertips were ice cold but soon acclimatised to Luis’ body heat. The cold chill of the basement was no longer an issue as Luis warmed the both of them.

Leon leaned in, planting tender kisses down Luis’ neck, nipping slightly at his collar bone. His hands rose higher and it took every ounce of strength not to rip the feeble cotton shirt from Luis’ chest. The man had given him the go ahead but he wasn’t so sure he’d take kindly to having his clothes torn, he seemed the materialistic type.

His hands returned to their earlier position, undoing each of the remaining buttons precisely and in almost no time at all. Luis couldn’t help but feel a little impressed at the man’s efficiency, perhaps the earlier comparison wasn’t so accurate after all.

Finally Luis’ chest was in full view. Leon took no time in tracing a finger all the way down the man’s scar.

“Quite the scar isn’t it? I imagine you have a few yourself?” he said while dragging the leather jacket off Leon’s shoulders. Getting Leon’s shirt off would be damn near impossible without tearing it and so Luis settled with lifting it with one hand, whistling while he took in the view.

“You got something to say?” Leon’s voice was laced with irritation.

“Just admiring the view and might I say you have quite the pair of asset-” Luis was abruptly cut off as Leon forced him to the ground, climbing on top of him in the process.

“How about you keep quiet and we expedite this process?” He unbuckled his belt as he spoke.

“Ye- yes Señor!” Luis sputtered as he attempted to pull off his jeans, an impossible task given Leon was directly on top of him.

“Allow me,” Leon stated coolly. As quickly as he’d unbuttoned Luis earlier he unclipped his belt. He hooked his fingers over the top of Luis’ jeans and went to pull them down when all of a sudden he paused. “Might be a little hard getting these off with that in the way,” he emphasised his point by flicking Luis’ growing bulge with a finger.

Luis covered his face in embarrassment.

“I thought you wanted to speed things up,” his moans were muffled beneath his hands.

Without warning Leon removed Luis’ jeans in one smooth motion, chucking them in a heap along with his own. He raised an eyebrow at his companions' now visible underwear.

“Why does your underwear match your jacket?”

“WHY DO STUPID AMERICANS ASK SO. MANY. QUESTIONS?!?” Luis had had enough, foreplay never usually took this long, at least not when he was the one topping.

This is what I get for letting the pretty boy with the big mouth top for the first time ever in his life.

Just as Luis was ready to throw the younger man aside and take care of things himself, Leon brought his mouth back to Luis’ neck and bit down hard. Luis moaned in approval as Leon buried his hand into Luis’ hair and pulled.

TO BE CONTINUED....

#serrenedy #re4 #resident evil 4 #luis x leon #leon x luis #luis sera #leon s kennedy #this started as a joke but decided to post anyways #serennedy #re4make #resident evil 4 remake #re4 fic #my fic

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flowercrowngods · 1 year

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nice to meet you, where you been? (steddie tattoo shop au)

🌷 part 1 | part 2 (or read on ao3) | T – 12.3k – 3/3 🌷

part 3: fallingforyou (5k)

in which the boys finally have that date

Eddie doesn’t even make it home before his phone vibrates, revealing a new message from an unknown number.

Unknown: hi i was a bit dumb and didn’t ask for your number but i figured you’d be cool if i take it from the form you filled out for the tat. hope that’s fine! 👀

Steve: oh this is steve by the way

Eddie snorts and leans against the lamp post beside him. It’s a bit stupid, the way he just essentially drops everything to text a boy; but he’s always been like that, and he sure as hell isn’t gonna change that for Steve fucking Harrington! In fact, he has a feeling it might only get worse from here on out.

Eddie: Aw and here I thought this was Brad. I even drew a little heart beside my phone number on the tattoo form :( Steve: pff please you’d never get a tattoo from someone named brad Steve: that’s not even a real name Steve: people named brad aren’t real Eddie: Brad is ghosting me and you’re joking about it, Harrington, I cannot believe this 💔 Steve: i’ll make it up to you Steve: are you free on saturday? Eddie: Only if Brad doesn’t un-ghost me 😔 Steve: menace :D Eddie: I’m getting your tattoo removed as we speak!!! Eddie: !!!!!! Steve: :( Eddie: That’s what you get, Stevie. That’s what you wanna take on a date.

Eddie’s heart is hammering in his chest, the wide grin faltering a little when he realises what he just said. He called it a date. Is that right? Is that what Steve wants? Is that what they’re doing? There is a chance that Steve only wants to catch up, hang out as friends. Queer friends that can’t exactly stop smiling at each other, who occasionally get lost in each other’s eyes, who flirt, who…

Damn. He’s not objecting to a friendship with Steve. Hell, it would probably be one of the best things to happen to him right after his band and the soulmate-ism with Chrissy! But the thing is, he’d have a massive crush to get over first.

There, he’s admitting it now. He has a crush on Steve Harrington like he’s never had a crush like this on anyone before, ever, in his whole entire life. Except once, in high school, for nearly two years. On Steve Harrington. Fucking dammit, he is so cliché. He’s leaning against a lamppost, grinning down at his phone, and everything!

And Steve isn’t typing anymore. Eddie is kind of dying. How’d this man get this much power over him in the matter of, what, like a week?

Eddie: Not too late to back out of that by the way Steve: are you kidding me?? Steve: bro i would take you on that date right now instead of waiting until saturday Steve: but alas

‘Alas’! The boy knows words!

Eddie’s heart is doing a somersault in his chest — and if anyone asks, no, that’s not him giggling down at his phone out on the streets like a helpless little gay boy with his first real, butterflies kind of crush.

Eddie: Oh damn, you're a real go-getter, aren't you, Steebie? Eddie: Wait Eddie: Did you just call me bro Eddie: DID YOU JUST CALL ME BRO STEVEN Eddie: B R O ?????? Eddie: Is that what we are 😔

Steve: drowning my phone as we speak

Steve:if you need me no you don't

And if Eddie is cackling at that, laughing, blushing, hiding his face behind his curls, no, he is not.

Giggling, blushing, and feeling so very alive, Eddie hits the call button and hopes that Steve didn’t actually drown his phone and went to leave the country.

But luck, it turns out, favours him today, because Steve picks up on the first ring.

“Hi, bro,” Eddie says, still laughing. On the other end of the line, Steve is groaning, but Eddie can hear something even better. “Oh my God, is that Nobody’s Perfect you’re listening to? From Hannah Montana?”

“Picking up the phone was a mistake,” Steve sighs without any real heat, and Eddie just wants to go all the way back and watch him. Chin on his hands and all. Just watch Steve as he closes up, listening to ridiculous songs that make him call people bro as he’s flirting with them, and tell him how beautiful he looks in clothes that are not designed to make people look this perfect.

“So what was that about taking me on a date right now?” Eddie asks instead of saying any of that, listening as the music gets quieter over the line.

There’s a moment of silence and Eddie imagines Steve shrugging. He’s adorable even in Eddie’s head. He lives in there now. Rent free, just pretty and sassy and not at all bro-like.

“Stevie?”

“Uh. Yeah, that was, uh. Sorry.”

“What for?”

A huff, some shuffling, and Eddie yearns. He feels it in his hands, the way they’re tingling, aching to reach out, to hold, to keep.

Steve sighs, then speaks. “Nothing, just a whole narrative of things that make me sound like the clingiest dude, so let’s pretend I didn’t say a thing?”

Eddie smiles before he knows it, because Steve might be saying what he thinks he’s saying, and he’s being shy about it. Shy! Steve! Eddie never stood a chance.

“You miss me already, Mister Kettle?”

“Maybe.” And God. How is he so charismatic even when he’s shy and most probably blushing? Steve Harrington, force of nature specifically designed to wreck Eddie’s little heart and soul and universe.

“Say the word and I’ll come back, Stevie,” Eddie says, and he finds that he means it. He doesn’t have plans, Chrissy isn’t home to tell him he’s not dreaming, and he has this ache, this tingling in his chest, his arms, his hands. This feeling that tells him he has to go hug Steve right this second and not let go for the next five to seven business decades.

There’s a huff and the ache only gets stronger.

“In fact, Steeb-o, it’s actually testing every ounce of strength this mind and body possess not to jump back into the subway and make my way over to you. So, like. Say the word. I think I might literally be begging you to go ahead and say the word, give me an excuse to be annoying and clingy.”

Steve chuckles and he sounds both relieved and stricken, and Eddie wants to know. He wants to know what’s happening inside that pretty little head. He needs to know what Steve thinks, what he wants, what he sees, what his world is like.

This is crush of his is moving incredibly fast. And still it’s far from enough for Eddie, and he knows that’s kinda not good, not healthy, a bit dangerous possibly. But it seems to be the same for Steve. Like maybe they’re bad influences for each other.

Like catalysts for destruction. But how would the boy who shines like gold in the sunlight destroy him? The boy who listens to Nobody’s Perfect when he’s cleaning and closing up, the boy who tapes up his shirt sleeve so Eddie won’t have to take off his shirt, the boy who has a whole binder of weird-ass tattoos and the softest touch, the quickest mouth, the sharpest tongue, meeting Eddie’s banter head-on like it’s all they’ve been doing since taking their first breath of shared air.

It’s not destruction that’s happening. It’s something much, much more terrifying. It has Eddie’s heart beating in his throat all the same.

“Let me take you on a real date,” Steve says then. “When I didn’t have a long day at work. When I won’t say stupid shit. Okay, Eddie?”

The yearning doesn’t stop, not when Steve says his name like that, in that smiling way he has. Part of him wants to object, wants to insist to turn around and spend more time with Steve. He wants to kick himself, wants to apologise for just running out of the shop like that. If he hadn’t, maybe they could go on that date now.

But Steve’s exhausted, and he deserves better than Eddie being actually clingy and annoying about this. Boundaries. No matter how tingly his arms are.

“Of course,” is what he says. “Sorry.”

“Not at all,” Steve hurries, that casualness back in his voice that makes Eddie want to go eat a tree. “I think I started that, anyway.”

“Yeah, when you called me bro,” Eddie adds, snickering.

Steve groans again. “I hate you.”

“And for good reason, too, bro.”

“I’m hanging up on you, Edwin.”

“Can’t believe you continuously hate-crime me, Steve Rogers.”

“Captain America? You won’t hear me complaining.”

Eddie snorts. “You’re so easy, man.”

“Goodbye, Eddie,” Steve laughs, and Eddie wants to soak it up. Live inside that laugh.

“Bye, Stevie.”

And then the line goes dead, and Eddie finds himself still leaning against the lamppost, stupid grin on his face, face half hidden behind his hair. There is that nice sting of a new tattoo on his arm, the late summer air is breezing through his jacket, and the upbeat Powerwolf song picks up where Eddie left it when Steve called.

It’s a good day. A great day. A wonderful, perfect, absolutely breathtaking day.

Eddie is a bundle of nerves and anxiety by the time Saturday rolls around. He’s spent more time in Chrissy’s bed than in his own and they went over the whole, What if he finds out I’m actually the most boring person on this planet? ordeal, which has gained him a pillow to the head and a big, big hug. He’s not complaining.

But he also is decidedly not calm when he sees Steve rounding the corner. Not when he sees the guy breaking into a huge smile that puts even the sun to shame, and especially not when he spots the flowers in the guy’s hands. Flowers for him. Flowers that make his heart skip.

God, he’s so lame.

“Hey,” Steve says, still smiling, except now Eddie can see he’s blushing. Blushing!

Abort mission, abort mission! Eddie cannot do this. He is not cut out to dating pretty boys that blush and bring him flowers.

“Hi,” he says, feet rooted to the ground as he feels his own blush rising to his cheeks. “Are those for me?”

“No, actually they’re for Brad. I’m surprised to meet you here, this is kinda awkward now.” Steve’s looking around in a theatrical manner and Eddie hates him so much, he is so lame!

Except now they’re both laughing and Eddie is pulling Steve into a tight, warm hug. It feels so intimate, the way Steve’s face is pressed against the crook of his neck, his arms tight around Eddie’s middle. And the little hum when Steve’s laughter subsides sends shivers down his back.

He was right, actually. Holding Steve is the best thing his arms could do, and he never wants to let go.

“Hi,” he says again after a while, closing his eyes and smiling into Steve’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

This is going great. Neither of them seems in the mood to let go anytime soon.

But then Steve takes a step back and holds out his flowers to Eddie. They’re dried flowers, the same he has in the little vases in his tattoo parlour, and they smell amazing. It’s ridiculously cute. Everything about Steve makes Eddie want to explode and scream and laugh and cry and take the deepest breath of his lifetime.

“I would have given you fresh ones, but I feel like that would have been a bit sad if they can’t get water, and these ones will probably last you a bit longer, too. I hope that’s fine?”

It’s fine. It’s so, so fine. God, it’s so lame, but it’s so fine, and Eddie wants to scream again. Instead, he takes the flowers and goes in for another hug. Steve chuckles and breathes a tiny little sigh of relief that Eddie soaks right up.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he murmurs. “I love them, actually. Very metal, to bring me dead flowers, actually.”

At that, Steve sputters and shoves away from him, still laughing. “Yeah, I figured you’re weird enough to enjoy dead flowers more than dying ones.”

“Touché, Steven. Touché.”

“You're so weird,” Steve says and then nudges their shoulders together. “Now come on, mister tough guy metal man.”

“Oh, I’m gonna have that be my actual title. Can I legally make you address me like that?”

Steve eyes him from the side and says, in the most serious tone, “I won’t say anything without my lawyer.”

Eddie cackles at that, feeling elated and excited and just really fucking good. Steve makes him feel all those good things that people have been talking about forever, and it’s only just the first date. He’s helpless. Can’t stop looking at Steve, sneaking glances and hiding behind his hair when Steve meets them, looking so fucking fond that it makes Eddie want to run away again.

It’s intense in a way that Eddie has never experienced. And they talk. Oh, but they talk. About everything and nothing, and it feels so natural. He learns more about Steve’s best friend Robin, he still doesn’t know the name of his little tattoo angel friend, and it turns out walking around town with Steve is an experience, because you can’t take the guy anywhere.

Every five minutes there’s someone waving, excited to see him, or even just nodding as they pass them on the street. It kind of adds to his sunny disposition and makes Eddie feel like he’s stepped into a parallel universe, like he’s witnessing something primal to the human experience. Something like joy, like fascination, like the universal constant that is being drawn to Steve Harrington.

And he’s staring, smile on his lips, when Steve notices.

“What?” he asks, sounding a bit shy underneath that amusement as he pays for ice cream and hands Eddie his cone.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me, man.”

Eddie eyes him. “Are we entering bro territory again, Harrington?”

“Oh fuck you,” he laughs, and then the moment is over and Eddie could go back to his musings. He could. But he’s Eddie fucking Munson, and if there’s one thing he doesn’t have, it’s a filter. And chill. Okay, there are several things he doesn’t have, and all of them come out when he’s around Steve, apparently.

“It’s just, you’re like the sun.”

Steve stops in his tracks, looking at him. “I’m like the sun?”

Eddie nods and comes to a stop a few steps ahead of Steve. “Pretty much.”

“Uh. Care to elaborate?”

“Well, first of all you’re wearing a yellow button-up, of all things, and that just screams sun at me, no take-backs,” he points out, and Steve looks down at himself, frowning a bit like he’s only just realised the colour of his shirt. Adorable.

Eddie continues, before his brain catches up with whatever the fuck he’s doing, baring his thoughts like that on the first date.

“Secondly, you’re kind. Like, you’re a genuinely nice guy. And I think the term sunny disposition was coined for you specifically. Actually, I have a friend in linguistics, I can ask her if there are any etymological… Anyway, uh.” Oh, there it is. His brain is back and he realises what he’s saying, notices the way Steve’s looking at him, his head cocked to the side, looking at him. Seeing him. Understanding what he’s saying.

Eddie swallows and goes back to eating his ice cream, looking anywhere but at Steve.

He almost misses it when Steve says, “You’re cute, Eddie Munson.”

His head whips up when he hears that, staring at Steve and his stupid little smile, his shining eyes, the glazed look in them, like he’s seeing Eddie and the rest of the world for the first time.

And Eddie, because he truly deserves the title of triple high school flunkee, says, “No, you.”

Steve huffs and shakes his head, still with that smile on his lips as he approaches Eddie again, crossing that distance. Drawing Eddie in even though his feet are rooted to the floor again. He swallows as the blood rises to his cheeks, bringing with it a heat that only deepens his conviction that Steve is a fucking sun of his own.

They’re so close, suddenly, that Eddie can smell the sweet lemon ice cream Steve got, and he holds his breath, petrified. He begins to understand why, throughout history, people have built religions around the sun. Why they have worshipped and created mythology around her, why people have been likened and pronounced representatives of the sun herself.

He gets it when Steve leans in and brushes the sweetest kiss to his burning cheek. His hand lingers on Eddie’s jaw even as he pulls away.

“Cute,” Steve says with a finality that a voice as raspy as his shouldn’t possess. But Eddie doesn’t dare argue, not when Steve is so close, not when he can see the blush on his cheek, not when he only needs to turn his head and their lips would touch. “And pretty. Thank you.”

The fingers on his jaw are moving in the slightest caress once, twice, three times before Steve pulls back.

And Eddie sways. Honest to god sways on his feet, and he tries to mask it by taking a step back and spinning around, but Steve’s light snicker tells him he’s been found out.

It’s unfair, though, that Steve gets to have this charm. This confidence. The courage to just kiss his cheek when it takes Eddie everything to just act normal. Well, as normal as he gets.

It’s unfair. And addictive. He hides his face in the flowers that smell so perfectly like spring and summer and freedom that it makes him positively giddy. Everything about today makes him giddy.

Can it really be like this? Is this really for Eddie to soak up, is this for him to keep? This kind of happiness and joy never did seem to be reserved for him.

But then Steve asks if he can take his hand, and Eddie opens his heart to the moment and links their fingers, daring to look over and catch Steve’s smile before he ducks his head away.

As far as first dates go, this is the best one Eddie’s had. They just walk a lot, which is perfect for his restlessness. This way he can run away from Steve and let the man laugh as he catches up, shaking his head with fondness. And Steve does. He follows him, he catches up, he gives chase, and suddenly they’re kids having a perfect summer day outside, their bellies full of ice cream.

And it turns out, Steve Harrington is not just a pretty face, a kick-ass tattoo artist, an interesting mind and a sunny kind of smile. No, he’s also a person Eddie wants to genuinely spend time with. It’s almost too good to be true and it makes him want to hide.

So he does. But not behind his hair, no. He presses his face into Steve’s collarbone, and instead of shoving him off or laughing awkwardly, Steve just wraps his arms around him and holds him. Tight.

“Everything okay?”

Eddie nods, holding Steve in return. “Yep, but if you’re gonna ask me any more questions, I’m gonna be real stupid here.”

Steve hums. “Stupid like me saying I didn’t really want to wait until today and just see you again right away on Tuesday?”

It makes his heart jump, because, yeah, something like that. Something exactly like that.

“Uh-huh. It’s just…” He sighs and steps back to look at Steve. “I’m having a really wonderful day. And it feels sort of forbidden.”

“Forbidden how?”

“Like… God, this is gonna sound very, like, thirty steps ahead, probably. But you’re, like. Man. You’re kinda perfect, and I can’t really wrap my head around the fact that we’re on this date, and that you’re calling me cute and pretty. Because people don’t do that. Not to a trans guy, not to me. And I didn’t even know I wanted that, but, boy. Boy. I do. I really fucking do.”

Steve is smiling by the end of it, and Eddie doesn’t quite understand. He should be running, should be looking at him with pity in his eyes, or that misplaced kind of understanding that’s really just nothing else but pity, just disguised with a dash of transphobia.

“Why are you smiling?” he asks when he’s just about to explode.

Steve shrugs, but that smile stays. “I like that you just… Say these things. That I can ask you what’s up and you’ll tell me. I don’t know, makes me feel like you trust me.”

“I do.”

That smile widens a fraction, and Steve takes his hand. “Well, let me return the favour, hm? I like being here with you. I’m having a really amazing time and I don’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to end on Tuesday either, I don’t know. It just… I don’t know, it feels right. And you are cute. And pretty. And funny, and just really great to spend time with. It feels like I get to be a version of myself with you that’s just, like, all of it, you know? It’s scary, of course it is, and makes me feel a bit stupid, too, but more than that it’s just really great. I’m sorry people are weird, but believe me when I say that, yes, you get to have cutesy dates, too. I’d take you on one, like, every week if you want.”

“Every week, huh? What, do you have a crush on me, Harrington?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?”

And just like that, they’re laughing again. Relieved, happy, filling their little bubble with joy and sincerity and butterflies.

Things are moving fast, but Eddie feels that if they went any slower, the world might actually end.

They don’t kiss that day.

In fact, it’s past midnight when Steve cradles Eddie’s cheeks outside the door to his apartment, looking at him like he hung the moon. Eddie’s not any better off, he feels.

“Can I kiss you, Eddie?”

“I’ll bite you if you don’t.”

Steve hums as he leans and brushes his lips against Eddie’s. It’s a good kiss. Oh, it’s a great kiss. It might just be the best kiss of his life when he feels Steve’s tongue against his lips, and he moans a little as he winds his arms around Steve’s neck, holding him there. Keeping him.

They kiss lazily, perfectly, for so long that it leaves Eddie a bit dizzy. And when he breaks away to take a breath, Steve leans his forehead against his temple.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” he whispers. “Thank you for today.”

Words fail him, so he just nods before pulling Steve in again by the back of his neck, kissing him some more. Because how in the world could he not?

“When can I see you again?” he asks, just to be a little pathetic.

Steve moves the kisses from his lips to his nose, his cheek, his eyelids and up to his forehead, making Eddie glad there’s a locked door behind him.

“Tomorrow sound good?”

“Tomorrow sounds perfect,” Eddie breathes. “Best fucking day of the week.”

Steve laughs and presses one last chaste kiss to his lips.

“For the record,” Essie says, pulling away from Steve, a bit breathless, “when you say tomorrow, you mean today, right?”

And Steve pauses. Steps away from Eddie. “I can’t believe I like a guy who thinks the day is over at midnight.”

Eddie would laugh at that, but… “You like me, huh?”

“Very much. Thought that was obvious what with the kissing and the handholding and the whole speech thing we had going on earlier.”

Eddie is too giddy to retort and he’s only mildly petrified when he actually giggles, darting forward for another kiss. “Goof. Goodnight, Stevie. Now leave before I do something stupid like inviting you in.”

“Oh yeah, we wouldn’t wanna do that. You’d end up seeing all my tattoos and spontaneously combust. I can’t bear that kind of responsibility.”

“Your— Steve!” But the man is already retreating, walking backwards to watch Eddie as he laughs, giving a silly little wave that has no business being so cute. “Get your ass back here,” Eddie hisses as loud as he dares, aware of the time and the fact that his neighbours will be asleep already. And that’s not even mentioning Chrissy.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eddie.”

“Will you show me your tats then?”

“What? Sorry, I suddenly can’t hear you anymore, you’re so far away.” Asshole. Beautiful fucking asshole who kisses so good that Eddie’s still leaning against the door. He hates him. So much. They’re gonna have a spring wedding.

Tomorrow finds Eddie outside of Steve’s door, fighting both nerves and a big smile as he knocks. Seconds later, the door sweeps open with a flourish and Steve is on the other side, smirking at him, looking so damn put together that Eddie falters a bit.

“So rude of you to turn up your damn charm, Harrington.”

“Only for you, Munson,” Steve says, taking Eddie’s hand and pulling him inside. “Only for you.”

Eddie steps into his personal space and kicks the door shut gently. “Oh yeah? Well, I’m charmed. What’cha gonna do about it, big boy?”

Steve hums, bringing his hands up to Eddie’s neck. “Think I’m gonna kiss it better, see if that helps.”

And then he does. He pulls Eddie in, closing what little space was left between them and takes his breath away with a long, gentle, intimate kiss.

“God,” Eddie breathes against his lips, his own hands landing in Steve’s hair, which earns him another hum.

“Yup.”

God, he’s so lame.

“So,” Eddie says with one last kiss to Steve’s lips. And then another. And another. “Show me your tats?”

Steve laughs and leads the way further into the apartment. It’s nothing like Eddie expected. Sure, it’s tidy and clean, because Steve just seems like the kind of guy who folds his laundry immediately and takes his dishes to the sink instead of letting them pile up or soak. But there are posters on the wall, there are little figurines and fairy lights lining the shelves, pictures of Steve and a girl that looks vaguely familiar. So many pictures actually, of Steve and the girl and other people, laughing and blurry at times, testaments of good times.

They make Eddie smile a bit. Fucking sunny boy Steve, alright.

Steve and Eddie end up talking for a while first, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and some stupidly delicious cupcakes.

“Robbie made those.”

“Your roommate best friend? The one with the fear of needles or something?”

“The one and only,” Steve laughs. “She has a little bakery down the street, actually. Used to stress bake half her life before she turned it into a business. The night before her finals in high school, she made three cakes and dour batches of, like, three different types of cookies. She aced her finals, of course.”

“Of course,” Eddie grins, taking another bite of the cupcake. He’ll have to stay with Steve just to get his hands on more of these, damn. Chrissy is coming with him to get more tomorrow, he decides.

“I also told her you chose her favourite little angel and she wants to marry you now. Except, I reminded her that you’re a man and she, very respectfully, passes.”

“Shame.”

“Very. Guess now you’re stuck with me.”

“Damn. The hardship,” Eddie sighs with all the drama lessons he ever had in his life, and it makes Steve chuckle as he takes his hand. They stare at each other for a moment or two, just soaking up the smell of coffee and their respective smiles.

The moment ends when Steve raises his hand to his lips and presses a kiss to his knuckles before rising to his feet and tugging him along into his room. Eddie zones out for a bit just watching Steve move in his space, talking about something that Eddie doesn’t really comprehend because he’s busy staring as Steve takes of his shirt, and—

Oh.

They’re wings.

Steve has wings. Four of them, and they’re like mandalas. Intricate little things, but when Eddie takes a closer look, trailing his hand along Steve’s warm skin, he can’t help but notice that the lines are a bit like smoke. They don’t seem to follow any pattern or direction, and up close, they don’t look like wings. Up close they look like disjointed, wonky lines. Like a freestyle tattoo, almost absentminded in its ink.

They’re beautiful, covering Steve’s whole back, mixing fine line patterns with stronger, thicker, almost aggressive lines. Eddie could stare for hours, tracing the abstract lines, trying to figure them out and giving up with the fondest fascination.

And that’s how they find themselves in Steve’s bed, shirtless, Steve lying down on his front, his head placed comfortably on his folded arms. Eddie is straddling his legs, moving his hands up and down Steve’s back, which turns into a light massage and Steve purrs underneath his touch.

There’s nothing sexual about this — and not just because they’re both sort of ace. It’s just tender. Trusting. Gentle.

Steve’s shoulders, his chest the insides of his upper arms, they’re all covered in tattoos. All rather abstract versions of common motifs. There are monsters, too, and it’s like someone turned Lovecraftian storytelling into a tattoo machine and used Steve as a canvas. Eddie somehow has no doubt that Steve designed most of these together with Robin or that artist friend Will he mentioned yesterday.

He wants to ask, wants to understand, wants to know it all. But words don't belong in this moment, so Eddie keeps up the gentle motions of his hands. Soon, Steve is falling asleep under his hands and Eddie joins him after a while. They’re wrapped around each other, comfortable, without a care in the world. It’s rather perfect.

And if you ask Eddie years down the line, he’ll say that this is the moment he knew he could very well fall in love with Steve Harrington. In fact, he’s already on his way there.

---

okay whew, we are done? i think? maybe? there might be a buckingham part to this at some point, but if y'all have anything you wanna see in this verse, i'm open to being pestered very kindly and patently please i am quite literally on the verge of an anxiety attack rn)

thank you @ everyone who was even mildly enthusiastic about this little thing, you 12 people have my whole heart 🤍🌷🥹

tagging: @inmoonywetrust @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @vampireinthesun @ajamlessbaby @momotonescreaming @zerokrox-blog @hotluncheddie @saganarojanaolt @eboyawstenn

#for the love of god read this on ao3 it's too long for tumblr skjdhf #tattoo shop au #steddie #steddie fic #stranger things fanfic #me: i wanna finish this thing. also me: oh shit it's not good enough it was too rushed i need to drag it out aah #chill? don't know her #anyway thank you everyone 🥰🌷#dio words

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alicepao13 · 15 days

Text

Hudson and Rex S06E15

So, as I’m sure a lot of people have already figured out, we just watched the intended season finale. CityTV, you better hope I never get to cross that ocean. I mean, every season finale aside from the two where Peter Mitchell was in charge (coincidence?) were run of the mill episodes which could have fit anywhere in the season. Maybe it will be fitting for this season to start and end with viewers wondering what they watched. But I’m getting ahead of myself here and I might be wrong. Let’s focus on 15 which may very well be the best episode of the season for me, probably tied with S06E04.

The spoiled scene with Charlie and Sarah’s mentioned anniversary. Rex totally wants to stay with Jesse after their “celebration”. I’m trying to figure whether Jesse is pretending to be naive or is actually being naive about it. Or if the whole response is the writers being unable to outright say that Charlie and Sarah really spent their anniversary having sex all night.

Speaking of, two years, Charlie Hudson? What are you waiting for, an epiphany to hit you in the head? Oh, wait.

What do you mean, we didn’t save the day? There’s a dead woman? Huh?

Nice bomb explosion by the way.

“My bosses are gonna hate this but tell me more”. lol Jesse

How did we end up as security detail for the woman who might become prime minister?

Look, I like when there’s a case where they’re toying with supernatural elements. That’s why I loved Castle so much. And Jesse is always eager to believe. Charlie on the other hand looks like he’s got tons to say on the subject. Rex too. Apparently he doesn’t believe in time travel either.

Any so called time traveler should come back to the present with the numbers for the lottery. That would be ample proof for me :P

Can I say how much I like the camera work on this one? Good directing by John Vatcher.

Rex is getting so many pats in this episode. Deserved.

This campaign manager is on par with the Veep campaign managers. And by that I mean he’s ruthless and self-centered and I want to punch him.

That food now possibly has dog hair in it.

I come from a country where it’s pretty normal to put a musical montage right in the middle of an episode (even a dance number), so I’m not going to say anything about the needless song.

Thunk! There goes Charlie. Again. I’ll spare y’all the concussion speech. Besides, time moves in mysterious ways in this show, maybe it’s already been six months since episode 11.

Seriously, why do you tell Rex to chase a lead if you can’t survive being ten feet away from him?

I can’t remember the last time any of my shows put a bomb vest on one of the main characters. The latest that I remember was FBI but it was on a minor character. That had been a great episode too.

I haven’t yet decided whether that bomb vest looks too amateurish. To be fair, given who the culprit was, it shouldn’t look professional.

Sarah finding Charlie as he has a bomb vest on is like, the best thing that has happened lately on this show. Her look. His look as he realizes that he’s got his entire family now in this (and the mantra of no, no, no that must be playing in his head, I’m filling the blanks, don’t mind me). The slight zooming in of the camera in both of their shots, denoting the direness of the situation.

I was almost waiting for Charlie to say “this isn’t as enjoyable as it was last night” as Sarah was touching him while she’s checking the bomb vest. It writes itself, come on.

In my last review post I wrote that I was hoping the earphones would serve for Charlie to call Sarah and tell her goodbye or something like that. This certainly exceeded my expectations.

We’re a bit late for love confessions under duress but when Charlie was asked about whether Sarah was his wife and he replied “Not yet”, that was a nice moment. At least we know where his head is at.

Their silent communication. They’re so in sync.

Elsewhere, Joe and Jesse are quietly trying to figure out a way to save innocent people and somehow not get their friend blown up.

Superintendent Joe Donovan making airplane noises. I laughed so much.

They are holding hands as they’re walking to their doom! Oh, by the way, interesting music choice. I wonder if it’s score created for the show or non-original music. I’ve certainly not heard it before on the show.

Goodbye kiss! I love it here. And look at the shot of Charlie and Rex leaving as Sarah is staying behind.

Me: no way it’s the convict. Five minutes later: it’s the fucking convict!!! Ten minutes later: it’s not the convict???

Ha, Charlie using the mute button which is pretty convenient but almost no one uses on calls.

Okay, they fooled me with the bomber. But the takedown went pretty much as I expected. Nice communication with Rex through hand signals, again. Although the detonator flying off the lady’s hand… anything could have happened.

Rex’s influence to the system will be more K9s lol. They may also have ensured unlimited funding for the SJPD.

Can the time traveling guy tell us if Charlie is going to propose anytime soon? Or is the “not yet” considered a non-proposal proposal?

This is the first time I’m hearing about the so called Alice in wonderland syndrome.

“Everybody needs a Rex”. Ah, yes. Our catchphrase.

Charlie, put the phone down. When is that man clocking out? Who’s going to make sure Rex is getting adequate rest? I need to talk to his superior. Joe!

Well, I kept saying that I wanted Charlie and Sarah to be in danger again together since they hadn’t after they had become a couple, and I got my wish, thank you, show. We could have had an aftermath scene with them but I’m not going to complain about it in an otherwise good episode.

Promo: I’m beyond frustrated that they keep shuffling the episodes and they wouldn’t even give it a rest when they got the season finale or the 100th episode on their hands. Today’s (yesterday’s) episode would have been a better 100th episode than The Rookie’s for sure (which is embarrassing for The Rookie). But instead we get to watch it as episode 99 and have a run of the mill case for the 100th, which, unless it ends up in a huge celebration scene, is going to fall flat. We basically end off exactly as we started, expect I now know this is 100% CityTV’s fault.

Speaking of, is CityTV even going to acknowledge that it’s the 100th episode? Is anyone? I’m obviously not expecting the magnitude of promotion ABC gave The Rookie or 911 this season (and that was a lot) but something that shows they’re not completely neglecting Hudson and Rex. It doesn’t seem like we’re getting renewal news anytime soon, so I’d settle for them celebrating the episodes they already filmed. There are quite a few production companies involved too, this does not only fall on CityTV. If Shaftesbury wants to celebrate this milestone, I won’t say no.

#hudson and rex

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the1975attheirverybest · 3 months

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Don’t get me wrong, I’m really excited, but I’m getting a bit nervous about going to see The 1975. I’m a pretty new fan, as I only started to listen to them last January. I’m worried about being judged for not knowing the lyrics to all of the songs, cos I do struggle with learning lyrics, and I’ve seen so many TikTok’s slagging off “fake fans” who don’t know the words. I’m also worried about being judged for not being a fan of certain songs that others go crazy for. (I’m not a big fan of People, for example. It’s okay, but I tend to skip it as it’s not really my vibe).

I know it seems stupid that a woman in her 30’s is genuinely anxious about this, but I’m also Autistic, so I struggle with shit like this. It’s gonna be a big thing for me, as this is the first gig I’ll have gone to completely on my own.

Any advice?

oh my goodness I’m so excited for youuuu. 💗💗💗

babe, first off, let me apologize on behalf of the entire fandom. Old fans and new fans. For making your experience anything less than perfect. Fandom politics are fuckin insane and we need to just stop with that shit. I’m not sure if any of this counts as helpful advice but I think, while it is okay for some songs to gain iconic status, generally speaking, everyone related to and experiences music differently. Like, I think Robbers, Somebody Else, About You, etc will always be special songs no matter what because they’ve come to symbolize huge milestone moments in the boys career. But other than that it’s not fair for anyone to decide that if you don’t like a certain song then that makes you less of a fan because we all engage with the art that we like differently and for different reasons. Our subjective tastes are informed by our personalities and experiences and things we enjoy. How boring would it be if everyone liked the exact same stuff and expressed their enthusiasm of it in the exact same way all the fuckin time????

Plus, this is not Harry Styles or Taylor Swift or whatever. The boys make the kinds of music that they do because they know there’s not one right way to be a fan. They’re fans of a bunch of different stuff. What was it that the ad that mads received after her show described them as? 😂 @toomuchracket was it “genre-hopping”?? Lmao. They’re genre hopping!!! So if you don’t like People then you’ll POTB or LIIWMI or Playing On My Mind or Sex or Fallingforyou. Because the boys themselves love emo and punk but they also love country and pop and house music and 70s rock and soul etc etc etc. the idea that you must like certain things to be a fan is dumb and counterproductive. And if I could line these people up against a wall to smack them one by one I would. Cuz all that does is make the fandom toxic and makes newer fans uncomfortable.

actually I highly recommend songs you don’t necessarily like. Before my show, I was okay with Heart Out but it wasn’t like my favorite thing ever. It’s not like the first thing that pops into my head when I think of the 1975 and their artistry. But then they played it at my show and OH. MY. GOD. I am a changed woman now. The drums!!!! George made the floor underneath my feet vibrate. I felt it in the ground first then it went up to MY FUCKIN RIBCAGE. And the guitar??!! Jesus fuckin Christ. I mean I’m sure it’s just that they tune it differently for live shows but it sounded so much fuller and multi dimensional and stronger. Blew my mind. Now I LOVE heart out. Hahaha.

I also just think we need to be better at approaching newer fans because if nothing else they’re proof that the band is still connecting with more and more people and reaching places it hasn’t before and more people joining the fandom means they’re successful!! there’s only one wrong way to be a fan and that’s to disrespect their boundaries like fuckin morons on TikTok and Twitter stalking Matty’s hotel and his house. Or talking about house ATVB used to be fun when he used to be problematic even though that obviously hurt him mentally and emotionally and affected his career. Or like acting as if the 1975 is just matty. That’s the wrong way to be a fan. Other than that you’re literally doing what music was meant for and enjoying what you like nobody has any right to judge you for it and if they wanna be asshole they can get fucked. IM SO SO EXCITED FOR YOU. YOURE GONNA HAVE SO MUCH FUN!!! The fans are generally kind and sweet for the most part I made so many new friends in the queue and in the pit I promise it’s gonna be amazing. please come back and tell me how it all went 💖💖

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mickyaltierisgf · 1 year

Note

‘tbc?’

UHM YES YES YES

OMG YOU LEGIT ROCK!

Part 2 was so fab!

Part 3??? 😝

missing at sunrise studios iii

poly!ghostface romickey x fem!reader nsfw! minors dni

this was going to be the last part but roman said nah so now there's going to be one more.

Mickey walked through the door, already smiling at you, but halting when he saw the gun aimed at him. He held up his hands. "Y/N? Baby? You okay?"

"Where’s Roman?" you asked, looking behind him without lowering your gun.

"You gonna shoot him?" Mickey asked, still eyeing you with a nervous sort of smile.

You shook your head at yourself, lowering your gun. "No, sorry, I’m just jumpy right now. I got a call from the killer." You explained. "Well, killers. There’s two of them."

"Shit," Mickey said, and he came to sit by you. "What did they say? Are they here right now?" he asked, looking out the partially open door.

"The usual fucking bullshit," you said, choosing not to divulge that they’d claimed to have seen you having sex with him and Roman. "But yeah, I think it’s safe to say they’re somewhere out there."

"You wanna get out of here? I'll let Roman know, and we can go home," he offered, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a protective hug.

"No," you said a bit forcefully, but you wrapped your own arms around him and snuggled against his chest. "I’m not about to run home just because of a lame phone call. I’ll be fine."

Mickey kissed your forehead, and you let go of him, letting him stand up. "I just came back to grab this," he says, pulling out a megaphone from somewhere and holding it up with a triumphant grin.

"Is that actually supposed to help anything, or just drive Roman nuts?" You questioned, a half smile curling your lips.

"You saw me jerking him off. Can’t get more of a helping hand than that," he says slyly. "You sure you want to stick around?" He asks one final time as he stands in the doorway.

"Yeah, don’t worry. And maybe don’t tell Roman either. He’s got enough to deal with, especially now that you’ve armed yourself with that," you said, pointing at the megaphone in his hand. He gives a mock salute and turns to leave, and you call out to him again. "Be careful, okay? Don’t go anywhere secluded by yourself, and keep an eye on Roman."

"Don’t have to remind me to do that," he smirks, to which you roll your eyes a bit.

"As in, make sure he’s with you and safe. Not check him out."

"Hey, I can do both," he points out, and you wave him away with a small smile.

You spent another week dividing your time sitting idly by at home or on set, worrying yourself over a case you had no real leads on and no one who could help. And being away from the precinct meant you weren’t even aware if there were any developments. There could have been more people reported missing, and maybe some of them might’ve happened right under your own nose while you sat in your boyfriends' trailer. You hoped the news would finally report on it, and that would force your Chief to do something. But as long as the studio wanted to keep things under wraps, the press wouldn’t touch it.

And then, as you sat one day and read through your copy of ‘The Woodsboro Murders’, you got an idea. You only wish you’d thought of it sooner. If there was one reporter who would love to get her hands on this story and sensationalize it, it was Gale Weathers. Only hours after your phone call, the case was already being televised on every news channel and broadcast on every radio station in the country. It was a media frenzy.

"They’re citing police corruption," Mickey said, wide grin practically splitting his face as you all sat and watched the TV. "Y/N, why didn��t you tell us you were a dirty cop?"

"I thought you knew. Wasn’t that why you guys started dating me?" You joked.

"Oh, I knew you were dirty, just not in the crooked way," he snarked back.

"This is a mess," Roman said, none of the same humor present on his face. "This might even kill the studio. They have the entire goddamn SWAT team over there, disrupting everything. I can barely get one take done in peace! The producers keep getting pressured to order rewrites, and now the Writer’s Guild is threatening to go on strike! This could set the movie back by months! They’re even talking about shutting down production completely. We’re probably going to get kicked out on our asses and out of a job by the end of this week!" He seethed.

The smile slipped off your face. You knew this was going to have repercussions, and you knew they would affect your boyfriends, but you hadn’t thought things would be quite this severe. You didn’t want all this to impact their careers the way it had already impacted yours.

"We can always go into porn," Mickey answered with a slight smirk.

"I’m not in the fucking mood, Mickey," Roman swore.

"I’m always in a ‘fucking’ mood," Mickey declared, unfazed.

"I’m so sorry this happened," you spoke up, trying not to sound apprehensive. "I wonder how Gale found out, though," you add, unwilling to admit you’d had a hand in this. Best to let Gale take the credit; she certainly wouldn’t mind. You moved closer to him and put your hands on his shoulders. He was tense, and you tried to massage the stiffness away. He didn’t shrug you off, but he didn’t seem to be too receptive to your touch either, which made you pout a little.

Mickey knew just the remedy, as he guided one of your hands to Roman’s belt instead. You wasted no time getting it unbuckled and working on the button and zipper. Roman sighed, clearly still frustrated, but he didn’t try to stop you. When you freed him from his boxers, he seemed to finally relax a bit as he leaned back into the couch. You spit in your hand and pumped it a few times slowly, and before you could bend your head forward, Mickey was already there, his lips closing over the tip. You pouted again but continued to pump the shaft slowly, feeling Mickey’s lips touch your fingers where they wrapped around the base. Roman’s own hand reached for your head, and you felt him gently guide you down so your lips could join Mickey’s. You licked while Mickey sucked and then switched off, and Roman petted your head for a while, making the quietest noises of bliss.

After a while, he gripped some strands of your hair, tugging, and you pulled your mouth off him with a pop. You looked at him in askance. "Bedroom. Now." he ordered. Mickey got up, swooping you up in his arms. You yelped a bit and laughed as he tickled your neck with wet kisses and carried you to the bedroom. He stripped quickly, tossing his clothes away carelessly, and laid on the bed with a huge grin as you joined him. Roman walked in a few moments later, taking his clothes off at a much more sedate pace before joining you.

"Put your hands behind your head and don’t move them," he said to Mickey. Mickey complied, lounging and watching as Roman turned you over, pressing you down into the mattress as he fucked into you. You gasped, your fingers flexing and digging into one of the pillows. Roman pinned you easily in place, one hand on your waist and the other holding your neck down. Your head was turned to the side, watching Mickey and whining uselessly as Roman fucked you as fast or slow as he wanted. Mickey slipped one hand into your mouth, pushing his fingers in deep.

"I told you not to move your arms," Roman gritted out, fucking you even harder as he got frustrated at Mickey. Mickey pulled his hand free, now soaked in your spit, and wrapped it around his dick, smiling defiantly at Roman.

"Should have tied me up," Mickey said, closing his eyes and jerking himself off leisurely.

Roman pulled out of you and batted Mickey’s hand away, laying you out on top of him. Mickey’s dick was trapped against your abdomen as Roman slipped back inside you, smiling tauntingly at Mickey over your shoulder.

"He’s a tyrant," Mickey commented, drawing you into an open-mouthed kiss. You moaned into the kiss and felt Roman drape over your back, his hand gripping your hair and pulling you up, forcing you to break the kiss. You whined pathetically, and Mickey huffed, glaring a bit at Roman.

"Didn’t say you could kiss either."

Before long, you were nearly crying, clinging to Mickey, and Roman was still fucking you through the throes of your orgasm. He finally took pity on you, pulling out and laying you gently on your back. He placed tender kisses on your lips and all around your face. You smiled, kissing his palm as it cupped your cheek. When he pulled away, you stretched a bit and watched as he laid on Mickey next. He wasn’t nearly as gentle, forcefully holding Mickey’s hands above his head. You knew Mickey could probably break the hold if he wanted to, but he stayed in place, letting Roman possess his mouth in a violent kiss.

You heard someone hiss, and as Roman pulled away, you saw blood on both their lips. You weren’t sure who had bit who, as they both smiled. Roman finally let go of Mickey’s hands so he could position himself better between his legs. You watched as Roman fucked Mickey even harder than he’d done to you. His hand wound around Mickey’s neck, closing around his windpipe, but if it was uncomfortable, Mickey didn’t show it. He smiled through it, holding Roman’s arm without trying to remove it and telling him to tighten his grip. You looked on a bit amazed. They had a tendency to get rough with each other, but this was a first, seeing blood and asphyxiation.

You couldn’t deny the sight was arousing; however, you felt a pulse of heat between your legs. Your right hand was snaking down between your legs when Roman’s gaze turned to you and stopped you in your tracks. "No playing with your pussy, Y/N. Show Mickey what a good girl you can be." You moved your hand back up obediently. "Play with your tits instead."

You did as told, though it wasn’t really what you wanted. Roman pulled his hand away, and you heard Mickey gasp for breath. But his breath was stolen a moment later as Roman was kissing him again, and you could see them both coming, white spurting on Mickey’s stomach and Roman’s thrusts turning sloppy. Eventually Roman pulled out, and you made space so he could collapse between you and Mickey. You thought you might fall asleep like this, nestled into his side, but Roman wasn’t done with either of you yet.

tbc

#mickey altieri #roman bridger #scream #ghostface #ghostface x reader

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lizzie-is-here · 1 year

Text

like the dawn

part xiv- the calm before the storm

“one day, you and i are gonna wake up and be alright. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. one day, i promise you” - fisher amelie

summary: you, steve, and bucky take refuge in wakanda. but the next steps of your recovery are daunting.

wordcount: 3.6k

warnings: trauma, nightmares, steve feeing excluded once more, a brief allusion to sexy time, cliffhanger lmao

a/n: ok so originally this was a 15-part series, but i’ve extended it to 20 lol. hope y’all are still enjoying! and like i said last time, this series will likely be put on a brief hiatus soon so i can write my christmas series/thing! love y’all so much 🤍🤍🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic

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Once everything was settled, it was decided that the next best move would be to go to Wakanda. A road trip could be saved until after you got deprogrammed.

T’Challa was more than welcoming, promising that you would be allowed to freely travel the streets of Wakanda once your treatments were finished, and going even further to offer you a safe home at any time.

And Wakanda really was a safe haven. They’d escaped the oppression so common in the rest of the world, and had truly flourished in their hiding place. It was magical.

You had thanked him profusely, and had been led to meet the princess.

Shuri Udaku’s reputation preceded her. She held a record for the highest IQ in the world, and at 18 was running an entire country’s technological developments. And she was damn good at it, too.

“This is my lab,” she’d said, waving an arm out. It was still clean and organized, but lacked the cold-stone sterility of HYDRA. Colorful art decorated the walls, and a few messy post-it notes clung to the tables and chairs.

All the while, Steve was discussing with T’Challa exactly how the treatments would work.

Both of you would be put under, cryo-tubes coming in handy once more, but during your sleep, they would work their magic.

Something about this place was special, and Shuri was confident in her ability to pluck every trigger word from your head in the matter of a few weeks.

She gave you some clothes to change into, and when you returned, clad in white, she sat you down on a table.

The doctors were patient and far kinder than any you’d experienced, even before HYDRA. They didn’t look at you differently, only made polite conversation and explained every move they made.

You appreciated their warnings. They’d ask before touching you, and moved your wings around with delicate hands.

Now, you’re awaiting the final preparations for the cryo-tubes. These, which Shuri proudly presents, will make the process much more tolerable.

Rather than being shoved into a dirty tube and frozen in a painful and shocking process, she promises that these will lower the temperature in intervals of 12, as well as pumping in some nitrous oxide to relax you.

You sit next to Bucky, leaning on him as a doctor checks his pulse.

“How do you think Steve’ll do?” you whisper. You should only be under for a month, but you know it won’t be easy for him.

Bucky shrugs. “I think he’ll be okay. Might cry a bit.” You elbow him lightly. “But he’ll be alright,” he adds.

The blond comes over to the two of you.

“I can hear you, you know? Enhanced hearing and all that.” He taps his ear. You smile, taking his hand.

“I’ll be fine, promise,” he says, kissing your forehead. He does the same to Bucky.

“You sure about this?”

The brunet sighs. “I can’t trust my own mind. We can’t.” He chuckles, a sad smile making its way onto his face. “So until they get this stuff out of our heads…”

“…Going back under is the best thing,” you finish. “For everybody.”

“Maybe not for everybody,” Steve mumbles, and you catch on.

“Shuri said it’ll only be about a month.” You run a thumb along his knuckles. “We’ll be back soon, Stevie.”

As the three of you hug, you hear Bucky whisper to him.

“You aren’t losing us again, punk. We aren’t going anywhere.”

The king and princess approach, seemingly reluctant to split the three of you up.

“The cryo-tubes are ready when you are,” Shuri states. Her tone makes it clear. You can still back out.

But your brain has no qualms about reminding you of exactly what happens when The Angel of Death and the Winter Soldier take the lead.

A brief flash of Steve, bloodied and dying in the burning helicarrier is all you need to make your decision.

“We’re ready.”

Your chamber is noticeably larger, another kind consideration by the Wakandan team. You climb in on your own volition, merely helped along when you struggle to turn around.

You exchange a glance with Bucky before you both nod.

Shuri readies a tablet, and slowly slides her finger across the screen. A soft hissing sound comes from all around you, and goosebumps cover your arms in seconds.

A light, floating feeling settles in your mind, and you can hear your heart slowing, slowing, slowing.

This time, it just feels like going to sleep. No breath being stolen from your lungs or screaming until you pass out. Your eyes slowly shut and the last things you see are your boys.

It’s the most quiet that your mind has been in 70 years.

———————————————————————

“I’m gonna lose it. Shit, what if something goes wrong, and they wake up as-“ Steve can’t even bring himself to think the words. He’s been pacing for what feels like forever. It’s been too quiet without you two, and when he finally couldn’t handle it, he gave in and called the team.

“They’ve come so far, and if they get set back… they won’t be able to live with themselves,” he rambles.

“Not to mention that I haven’t slept in bed alone in, what?” The blond captain counts the weeks. “Two months! Two months, and now they’re just-“

From the FaceTime call, Natasha’s eye twitches.

“Rogers,” she begins, exasperated beyond belief. “It has been. One. Hour.” She claps to emphasize her point. “They have been under. For. ONE. Hour.”

Ok, she has a point there. More than a point, honestly.

Steve knows he looks crazy. Probably is crazy. And it’s impossible to miss how the doctors glance worriedly at him every so often.

No, he hasn’t left the lab. The team is too nice to ask him to stop sadly staring at his best friends and lovers in the cryo-tubes.

“Get your star-spangled ass out of that lab, Cap,” Tony says through a mouthful of cereal. “You’re in the most technologically-advanced country in the world.”

Steve can hear Peter as the teen cuts in.

“Well, Mr. Stark, I don’t think he’s that interested in seeing more tech he isn’t familiar with.”

“Was that a burn?” Sam. “I’ll count it. You did good, kid.”

Steve can’t help but smile when they devolve into bickering, and the phone is forgotten on the dinner table shortly afterwards.

“Bye, guys, I’ll call again later,” he calls. A few people respond before he hangs up.

“Guess I should get out of here,” he says to himself.

You and Bucky look so peaceful, though.

Clad in white, Bucky looks so different. He’s stuck with dark colors, mostly to blend in but also out of habit. But the white looks good. It looks ethereal.

And as cliche as it is, the only word he can conjure up to describe you is angelic. The fluff of your feathers cradles you as you sleep. You’re so still. But you look content.

Steve’s never looked so stressed. He lost you both so long ago, and found you and lost you and found you all over again. He can’t handle this.

And it’s only been an hour.

———————————————————————

As talented as Shuri is, the super-soldier serum bests her tech occasionally.

Every so often, in intervals you aren’t sure of, you gain enough consciousness to hear through the cryo-sleep.

Most of the time, it’s just doctors taking notes, or Shuri mildly commenting about how she has to fix another “broken white boy”.

But today, you can hear Steve. No one else is around.

“Hey, (Y/N). Hey, Buck.” The sound of a stool being dragged over and a notebook being opened makes its way to you.

“I know I’ve been visiting all the time, but I needed to talk.”

“These past weeks have been hard. I… I miss you.” He pauses. “But Shuri’s been digging through those files you gave her. And some of the stuff in there…”

Steve wishes he hadn’t looked in that box. The detailed notes describing exactly how they broke you down and destroyed you until you caved.

They started with the experiments. Hours of being strapped to a table and injected with foreign needles.

Then they trained you. Taught you exactly where to strike to kill and where to strike to wound. How to use every weapon under the sun and exactly which ones did the most damage in your hands.

Then the brainwashing. That chair. Steve had to stop reading when the files began to describe how you’d screamed and begged to not go back into that room after your first session.

But you didn’t go down easily. You fought for twenty years. In and out of cryo-freeze, you fought them tooth and nail and gave them more hell than they had ever expected.

But they won. And now you ended up here.

“I just want to keep you two safe. And I know you don’t need it. But you did the same for me.”

“Captain Rogers?” T’Challa’s voice is far away, and even Steve’s voice is beginning to fade away.

You hear them leave, and then it’s just darkness again.

———————————————————————

It’s another two weeks -longer than predicted- when you’re taken out of cryo-freeze.

Bucky’s let out first, and Sam gets a sore stomach from laughing over the phone when the former assassin falls flat on his face getting out- right in front of the camera.

Your boys decide to not let you suffer the same fate, and are there to catch you when you realize that your legs don’t quite work right after a month and a half frozen.

Steve takes the role of mama bird in an instant. “How d’you feel, sweetheart? Wings sore? Want a blanket?”

You yawn, wings stretching and shaking off the little bits of frost that accumulated on them. “‘M alright. Tired. Cold.”

Bucky brushes away ice crystals, equally as cold but more concerned about you. “Let’s get checked out and then we can head outside, thaw out a bit?”

Shuri is speedy and gentle in her assessment. She moves around the lab with a distinct intuition of where every tool she needs sits. It reminds you of Tony.

She carefully extends your wing, maneuvering it slowly.

“These are amazing,” she gushes. “The way the lightweight bone grafts to the original, the feather pattern is-“

“Shuri,” T’Challa chides. She rolls her eyes with a smile, obliging anyway.

“Take it easy,” she says to you and Bucky. “Just because you’re super-soldiers doesn’t mean you can go throw yourselves at the nearest training room. Your bodies need time to recover, and so do your minds.”

“So, are they… gone?” Bucky asks. The Winter Soldier. The Angel. It’s almost too much to hope for.

The princess takes a deep breath before shrugging. “We won’t know until we can test the trigger words.”

At your visible apprehension, she holds out her hand.

“It will be done in a safe area, supervised by the Dora Milaje themselves. Two weeks from now should be plenty of time to recover.” She passes over two bracelets.

“Kimoyo beads. They will take you to your temporary home, allow communication, and really anything you need.” She proudly points to them.

You know she’s probably tired of how many times you’ve thanked her, but you do so anyways. Following her instructions, you, Steve, and Bucky begin to head through the city.

Steve watches the way you and Bucky interact with the crowd. He’s been treated with awe and prestige ever since he came out of the ice. People ask for his autograph and pictures.

The same people have only looked at you two with disdain.

But the people here aren’t afraid. They smile at you in the street and offer samples of food. A woman holds up a delicate lattice of gold chains, gesturing to your wings.

“I don’t have money, or anything to trade-“ you begin. She shakes her head and drapes it over the tops of your wings. It sits nicely, though probably designed for the shoulders. She shoos you away with a knowing grin.

“Look at you, all dolled up,” Steve laughs. You blush, shoving him.

“Oh, hush, Mr. Star-Spangled Man with a Plan. Get us home.”

The home in question is a comfortable hut. Far enough away from the city for some peace, but close enough to walk easily.

Inside, you find a small kitchen, a large bed on the wood floor, and a small shower and bathroom blocked off by a curtain. Despite the humble appearance, you find that there’s hidden tech in every corner.

The carved wooden sink runs with perfectly cold water, the small fireplace is in perfect condition. Even the curtain covering the entrance, upon further inspection, is found to be sewn with vibranium thread.

You lay down on the bed, sprawling out and shaking away the last chills. Your boys are quick to join you.

Steve lays beside you, while Bucky happily drops his head onto your stomach.

“Miss us, Stevie?” the latter asks.

“So much.”

At his tone, you pause. “You weren’t alone this whole time, were you?”

The silence that follows is telling.

“The team visited a few times,” he says, immediately jumping to do some damage control as the two of you frown. “But it was mostly just me.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, kissing his cheek.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about,” he promises.

Bucky fiddles with the kimoyo beads. “We’ll make it up to you.”

Extending a pinkie, you listen as the Border Tribe finishes up their evening patrol. They sound the horns, and silence follows.

Your boys link pinkies, and everything is peaceful.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

———————————————————————

True to your word, you and Bucky spent the next few days making up your lost time to Steve.

Days were spent exploring Wakanda and its culture, and nights were spent huddled up in your hut, often with the curtains tightly shut and with hushed whispers exchanged in the darkness. Well, sometimes they weren’t exactly whispers.

The market was a common day trip, buying fruit or just frivolous items. You bought more jewelry for your wings under Steve’s encouragement, adorning a few of the ink black feathers with gold rings and charms.

But you wouldn’t use your powers. Besides healing a few bumps and bruises on the local kids that loved to play around the hut, you’d avoided casting even the smallest ball of light.

A part of you feared that, if you used them, it would awaken the Angel. The two were intertwined, in your eyes. One couldn’t happen without the other stirring to life.

You dreaded that two-week mark. So did Bucky. The few nights leading up to it were peppered with nightmares and restlessness.

“I can’t hurt anyone else,” Bucky had sobbed late one night, clinging to Steve as you prepared some tea. He’d woken all of you up in a violent nightmare, screaming and tangling himself in the covers. “I need to go back under, I-“

“What you need to do is breathe,” Steve had urged. “You’re alright. The Dora Milaje will be there, and they won’t let you hurt a fly. Besides, Shuri was almost sure her treatment worked.”

“I can’t trust ‘almost’,” he’d pleaded.

As you watched them, you’d had a moment of forgetfulness and had touched the searing kettle. Wincing, you flung your hand back, watching as the blistering receded in seconds.

Carefully lifting the teapot, you’d poured a cup and offered it to Bucky, running a hand through his hair.

“I know you’re worried, I am too.” Sighing, you plucked a bit of grass from your wing. “But we need to trust Shuri’s work. It’ll be ok. We can’t just go into cryo forever, love.”

It had been twenty minutes before you lulled him to sleep, and another thirty before Steve joined him.

But you’re too anxious to go to bed. Sneaking out of the hut, you stare out into the darkness. Some goats bleat, evidently disturbed by you.

“Oh, hush,” you whisper. “I’m just going for a fly.”

The goats don’t respond, blinking lazily. One bleats and bumps his feeding trough.

“No. The last time I got near you-“ You point at the goat, tone becoming accusatory. “-you tried to eat my feathers.”

He gives up, turning back to the covered area of his pen. Turning your focus back to the path in front of you, you stretch a bit, preparing for the flight.

You take a running start, barefoot as the soft earth slowly recedes from beneath you. Leaping up, you rise, powerful flaps propelling you skyward.

There’s no clouds tonight. Just stars and the bright lights of the city a bit of a ways away.

You veer towards the skyscrapers. It’s a few minutes before you’re in the heart of the city, narrowly turning between buildings and enjoying the cool air.

The lights dance in shimmering colors, and a few buildings have music pouring out of their doors. It’s lively, even this late.

You hear it before you see it. A soft thrumming from behind you. You flip over, slowing down until you’re upright.

It’s a hover bike, you think. When it gets closer, you recognize the rider.

“Princess,” you greet.

Shuri waves you off, chuckling at the formal greeting.

“You’re out late,” she comments.

“Could say the same about you.”

She shrugs. “Needed to clear my head. You, too?”

You nod. She leans on the handlebars, unfazed by the 300-foot drop.

“Are you nervous for tomorrow night?” The assessment. The trigger words.

“A bit,” you admit. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, or the Dora-“

“You don’t trust yourself.” You pause. She raises a brow.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you say. “Bucky and I- we don’t want to hurt anyone. We’ve done enough of that.”

Instead of offering pity, or a sympathetic glance, Shuri nods.

“I get that. But it’s not your fault.” There it is. You’ve heard those words so many times. But it felt like you, you were there, so it had to be your fault.

The princess continues. “I don’t mean that just to make you feel better. I mean, mentally, psychologically, it wasn’t you.”

She presses the bike forward, fast enough for you to comfortably fly beside her.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“The Angel of Death and the Winter Soldier aren’t you. You are your memories and experiences. Really, a person is their brain and consciousness. The body’s just a tool to keep you alive.”

“So, HYDRA took away the memories and experiences. They took away you. And in your place, they trained someone else with what was left. Just the fact that you’re worried about hurting people because that’s what the Angel did proves that you aren’t her.”

“I know you’ve heard it many times. I heard it when my Baba died. I’d thrown myself into my work, blamed myself for not creating a better suit for him.”

She lands the hover bike, and only then do you realize she took you back to the hut. The sun’s beginning to rise.

“But it wasn’t your fault. Really. Truly.”

You can’t come up with an argument. You chuckle, shaking your head. “You’ve got me there, Princess.”

She smiles. “I’ll see you soon?”

You nod. “Yeah. Tonight.”

And she’s gone. Speeding off far faster than her mother and brother would approve of.

“(Y/N)?”

Your boys are peeking out of the hut, confused and squinting in the growing light.

“Was that Shuri?” Steve asks.

“Yeah. Went for a fly, and she ran into me. Talked for a bit.”

You greet them both with a kiss, sighing into the feeling as the sun warms your feathers.

Bucky wraps an arm around you, clearly still just as worried as he was an hour or so ago.

“Tonight?” he asks.

You and Steve nod. There’s no postponing this, no outrunning it. Shuri was adamant that two weeks was the ideal period.

So two weeks it was.

———————————————————————

The trek up the hill was much worse than the weeks leading up to it. Rocky ledges offered little purchase, and moss caused your feet to slip every so often.

You used your wings to boost you and you went, charms jingling in your feathers. You’re accompanied by Ayo, an experienced Dora Milaje, and Steve.

The blond wasn’t supposed to join you. But she found it hard to deny his wounded puppy look when she tried to pull you and Bucky away.

“We’re nearly there,” Steve assures, traversing the steep rocks. You jump up a ledge, wings flapping wildly as you correct your balance.

There, in a clearing, is a campfire. It’s small, unassuming.

Ayo vaults up behind you with her spear. She gestures to the ground.

Once Bucky makes it up the hill, he sits with you. You take his hand, nodding in reassurance.

“Sergeant Barnes?” Ayo calls. “It’s time”

Bucky takes a deep breath, and you can practically feel the weight in his chest. His metal arm recalibrates, buzzing as the nerves fire rapidly.

“You sure about this?”

The warrior doesn’t back down. “I won’t let you hurt anyone.” Stepping closer, she begins.

“Желание, Ржавый, Семнадцать.” Her voice is quiet, but the words bury in your soul.

“It’s not gonna work,” Bucky whimpers. You almost reach for his hand again, but you know you have to let him do this.

Ayo pauses, but continues. “Рассвет, Печь, Девять, Добросердечный.”

You can see him struggling, fighting off the Soldier. When you glance over to Steve, he looks about ready to spring over and cover the brunet’s ears.

“Возвращение на Родину, Один, Товарный ваго.”

The last word is said, and it’s still Bucky in front of you. The exhale that follows his realization is broken, punctuated by silent sobs.

“You are free,” Ayo smiles.

Steve hurries over, embracing him and turning to you. You know it’s your turn. And if it worked for Bucky, it had to work on you, right?

Right?

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inbetweenhours · 2 years

Photo

Finished my primary pitch for @pinchhitsfromthevoid ‘s first batch of pitchs! If your looking to send prompts run over there the form is still around :]

This pitch was for an anon, so no one else to tag. But basically I combined their want for osmp, royalty, and angst! Though the angst maybe s a bit more hurt/comfort I guarantee this would be angsty in full in fic format aha :] I also played a little with the popular and newly approved hc of o!Ranboo being a girl just for the fun of it. It impacts nothing in the story and I could just as easily redraw the whole thing with “prince” Ranboo, and she just looks like an oc at this point but she’s fun :] So I hope y’all like her. IDK if I’ll draw her again but it was fun for this au i like her design :]

The panels alone tell a kind of story, so you can read them as you like. However I will be elaborating on what is going on in, and between each panel below the cut ;) enjoy!

Any interaction is appreciated! :] Enjoy!

tw: assassination's attempts, mentioned death

The End Empire and The Kingdom of Origin are in a bit of a feud. Not anything big, but The End has come out of its isolation rather suddenly and has been making demands of overworld countries like Origin. They’re powerful enough King Phil doesn’t want to do anything rash to make them seem hostile, but honestly The Ends behavior is fairly aggressive and it’s coming off as threatening.

Thus Phil send his trusted advisor Wilbur to visit The End to try and do negotiations in person. He has also sent his son Tommy as a sign of good faith to have at least one member of the royal family present since he has other matters to attend to. Tommy’s a bit to young to be properly handling the actual politics though so he’s mostly just there for images sake Wilbur’s doing the actual work.

When they arrive and are waiting to be introduced to the End monarchy they come under the sudden realization of why things might have been so hard to handle, and why The End has had a seemingly sudden shift of motivation in the past months. The End Monarchy is not the two queens that outside nations had been under the impression of ruling. Instead a single tween, Tommy’s age. Princess Ranboo is maybe 13, looking entirely too small on the throne despite how much space she’s trying to take up.

Wilbur realized quickly that negotiations are gonna be a mess because Ranboo is a literal child and certainly acts like it. She’s spoilt and demanding and is blatantly refusing input from her advisor. Outright refusing any ideas thrown out by her advisor at all out of some kind of superiority complex or spite, Wilbur isn’t sure. Seemingly just trying to be difficult. Wilbur has no idea how he is going to resolve this peacefully when arguing with a literal child.

Wilbur is at his wits ends after even just the first meeting. Tommy decides he doesn’t wanna hang around if it’s gonna be this unbearable and also Wilbur is losing his mind. While Tommy enjoys annoying Wilbur that is his job and no one else’s. So he slips away after the meeting to try and find Ranboo. Try and do some diplomacy of his own and se if he can’t connect, tween to tween, and figure something out. See why she’s being a twat.

Tommy doesn’t find Ranboo, but instead her advisor. The advisor is creepy to Tommy, but everyone in the End palace seems kind of off and Wilbur told him not to be rude so he doesn’t say anything. The advisor basically helps direct Tommy to where Ranboo’s quarters are, even giving him a piece of End candy he can give to Ranboo as a kind of peace offering. When Ranboo opens her door and sees her advisor she scowls, before seeing Tommy and curiously pulling him into her room, slamming the door on the advisor.

Ranboo asks what Tommy’s doing, Tommy tries to offer the candy to which Ranboo makes a face and refuses. Tommy is just like “okay then” and goes to eat it himself because if Ranboo isn’t going to eat it then Tommy at least wants to try some of the foreign candy. Unfortunately for him, Ranboo snatches it as soon as he tries to unwrap it and throws it towards the trash.

Tommy is indignant asking what her problem is, but Ranboo tells him to shut up and be quiet. She asks if he is stupid, to try and eat something so brazenly without having it checked. Tommy asks why and Ranboo gets defensive, demanding that he just listen to her but Tommy squawks that he is also a prince, and Ranboo needs to treat him at least as an equal and stop talking down at him. She hasn’t really ever considered anyone an equal, has never met someone else her age of her status, so she backs down a little if only out of confusion.

Tommy pushed, and Ranboo explains that the staff of The End can’t be trusted. Ranboo isn’t completely sure who is and who isn’t in in it but that there is consistent assassination attempts and that Tommy should be more careful or else he’s an idiot. Tommy is both just baffled by the idea and defensive because he doesn’t have to worry about assassination attempts! They aren’t that common in Origin. This confuses Ranboo whose entire life has been upended because of the consistent poisoning attempts in the past half year.

Wilbur, who has lost track of Tommy since the meeting and is worried about him wandering around a foreign country that they know nothing about and ether getting himself into danger, or the both of them in trouble, begins covertly searching the palace halls for his ward. He accidentally overhears a conversation between Ranboo’s advisor, and another Enderian he doesn’t recognize.

He realizes they are discussing something he is not meant to overhear. The organization of an attempt on Ranboo’s life. They seem irritated and impatient, upset at the amount of time it has taken to take out the royal family. The poisons they have used to kill Ranboo’s mother, and bedridden the other (soon to pass, surely) are slow acting so as to come a crossed as terminal illness. Tragedies not traced back to staff interference. But Ranboo has grown too wise, knows not to trust, and is being tricky. With foreign nobility present they feel as though they are running out of time.

With the Origin nobility present though they have a unique opportunity. The advisor and other staff in on the assassination's have plans to continue impersonating the royal family, even in their death and orchestrating the empire from that cover. They want the End to emerge from isolation, and Origin is getting on their nerves. They could kill two bids with one stone, so to speak, by killing Ranboo the old fashioned with with a knife in the night. Then causing a scandal by implicating the Origin nobility and issuing cause for conflict with the overworld.

This is all very bad news for Wilbur, both as a peaceful ambassador and also as a general bleeding heart. he fears for Tommy, and despite Ranboo’s attitude, he has the care to know she does not deserve this. He slips away unnoticed from his eavesdropping and wanders till he finds Ranboo’s room.

Once allowed inside he is relived to find both children present. He gets to Ranboo’s height, and gently tries to describe the danger she is in. Initially she brushes him off, insistent she knows how to handle herself and of course she knows she's being hunted by her staff, she’s been dodging them for months. Wilbur’s insistence in a change of tactic is what scares her though.

She can avoid poison. It’s easy to avoid food that hasn't been tested before her eyes. Easy to recognize smells and tastes, when and how her mothers fell ill. She also knows she is not made for labour of any kind, and she has no way of defending against a blade.

So the façade breaks. Ranboo is a spoilt brat. She was raised rich in an empire spanning the near entire end dimension. That is true. She can be stubborn and greedy and hot headed, she is a child. But she has no real ill will. She does not argue with Wilbur and disrupt the meetings and meals and any form of diplomacy out of a place of malice, but rather an insistence to disagree with her advisor, who she trusts least. She is scared, surrounded by people who hate her and who actively want her to de quietly. So she kicks, and screams and takes up space with demands and stubborn smirks. Enderian life spans are long, and Ranboo is young. There was no reason she need learn to rule when her mothers were well. She has no idea what she is doing on the throne, for people she has rarely seen.

So Wilbur presents her a problem she can’t turn up her nose and roll her eyes at, and she breaks. Because she is a scared child trying to fill up the shadow of something much more mature than she is.

Tommy is the one to offer aid. Says Ranboo stay in their guest room that night. They can have a sleepover! Ranboo has no idea what that means, but as Wilbur irons out the details, it seems the safest option.

They’ll still be in the palace of course, no where else to go yet. But so long as Ranboo can get to their room without being seen leaving her own room, then they can confuse the attacker and hopefully keep Ranboo safe.

The plan seems to work out well, even if nearly everyone ends up awake the whole night. Ranboo stays awake in fear, hiding in a blanket and just about ready to teleport at any little sound. Tommy is nearby, doing his best to distract her. Get to now her better, just generally lighten the mood. Wilbur keeps watch when the kids eventually end up taking a couple naps through the night, his phantling nature making staying awake much easier. He also drafts some letters while he can. A few to Phil, though they are never sent. Then a couple letters later in the night for the End palace staff.

Its early the next morning the crew have to make some decisions. With the End palace staff being done with waiting Ranboo no longer feels capable of evading death in their own home. Tommy thinks Ranboo should just come back with them to Origin, and Wilbur agrees after some consideration. He is sure Phil would have no issue taking in Ranboo, especially given the situation. The issue is it may provide more ammunition for the End palace staff, when they inevitably take over coordination of the empire in the last of the capable royal families absence, to initiate a bigger conflict.

Tommy is insistent though, and Wilbur knows neither he nor Phil would live with him if he left Ranboo behind to fend for herself again. So they ask her to leave with them, pack a bag and they will leave towards the portal within a couple hours.

Ranboo is hesitant though. She visits her mother, the one who has remained ill, the other already passed. She is barely responsive. But in the early hours Ranboo happens to catch a rare moment of coherency to her rapidly decaying self. She tries to describe what is happening, and asks what she should do. The only person left she would dare to take order from. Her mother, confesses she is fading quickly, and something happened last night. She likely will not last more than a day, or two. Its a miracle she’s lasted this long really. So she encourages Ranboo with a soft caress of her cheek, and a grim smile.

So Ranboo finds Tommy and Wilbur again, hides her glum expression, and evades her staff to pack a small case. She follows carefully as Wilbur and Tommy insist thy much leave at once, and when the coast is clear she rejoins them at the portals edge.

She doesn’t know what awaits her, has never seen majority of her empire, much less outside it. Outside of her realm. Tommy is excited to finally se the sun again, and Wilbur is sure to check in that everyone will b okay. Ranboo, emboldened by her linked arms to each of her new friends, plunges them all into the portal.

The world is bright, brighter than anything Ranboo has ever seen. It burn at h eyes for a moment, and she hears a hiss as Wilbur quickly opens his parasol. The brief shade finally gives Ranboo the time to consider the world around her. The colors, the shapes, the smell of the new world around her.

Despite having lost her home, and her family, and her status- which she will surely be upset by later- she feels some hope. And she breathes steady knowing she maybe safe yet.

Of course not everything will be settled so easily. The empire may retaliate for her leave, Ranboo has yet to properly process her grief, her losses, and Origin will have to adjust with the change Ranboo’s brings. But there is hope.

#osmp #origin smp #ranboo #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #hourspost #hoursart #fanart #osmp royalty au #its 1am and this hasnt been proofread sorry but gl #dont think ill revisit the au unless people really want it #i hvae some post ranboo in origin ideas but mostly shenanigans lol #pinch hit

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maxwell-grant · 1 year

Text

SF6 Comic Issues #3 thoughts

A bit late with this one since I had no time whatsoever the past few weeks, and I think they’ve wrapped it up now? I’ll have to get to issue #4 separately but it sure feels like it, also holy shit what an ending if so.

Frankly the way things have been going for him I wouldn’t be surprised if Ken actually was just attacked by a random pack of vultures, or that JP would have trained vultures to sicc on him. Also nice bird symbolism with these and his cane in Issue #2 as hints towards him being the real figure behind Amnesia, I guess it wasn’t that surprising but we BETTER get that plague doctor mask as an option for him in-game

“Ken Masters, my friend” lmao

A lot of beats I appreciate here like how, in JP’s speech about how their top priority is to defend the citizens of Nayshall and how they are at risk even if the information isn’t true, and how his line about countries having an excuse to intervene is punctuated by focusing on the American paramilitary hearing it (and in the next issue these guys will generally make things worse, with Luke having to yell at them to stand down so they don’t execute Ken within broad daylight with millions watching). Might be reading too much into it but I can’t see this, when American interventionism is relevant to the plot and the next issue will feature a character criticizing it, as a coincidence.

I’m grateful that Luke is stepping in to play the part of “brash idiot cop representing De Law chasing the actual hero while usually being either useless or making things worse”, a massive burden lifted from Chun-Li’s shoulders that she’s always been too good for, but he isn’t. And I particularly love that beat where JP catches Luke having a conscience crisis while moping about his origin story, and gently but firmly knocks him back into the narrative he needs him to play his part in

A little dissappointed that Amnesia was never real but, I knew JP’s mask-off moment was going to be sick. And since this a prequel comic and Ken’s situation has notably not improved much in-game, we knew JP was going to get away with everything. But oh my god this is so good, I’m gonna have to make at least one post on JP and the picture the comic presents of him specifically, he’s so fucking good.

Just how much he’s getting away with is one thing, but that mask off moment being punctuated with not only JP turning into a Metal Gear villain smugly monologuing about his philosophical terrorist plans that lie somewhere between batshit and poignant, but there’s the reveal that he’s placed cellphones modified into exploding triggers for drone bombs across the entire city and strapped Mel to a chair with one of those bombs beneath it, forcing Ken to decide to either let his son die or press the button to detonate all of those bombs on innocents within the city (and thus actually have blood in his hands).

And he says this to Ken while loudly tapping his cane rhythmically to the ticking of the bomb hanging over Mel’s head as if, what, the guy wasn’t psychologically crumbling fast enough for his liking. And he leaves merrily whistling to himself, completely secure.

Next issue begins with a news report stating that multiple bombs were detonated and several buildings were levelled and several civilians injured (with no casualities only because Luke figured it out early and issued a warning), no “the bombs were decoys” fake-out so, yeah, Ken actually did just press a button to kill people there and in the next issue we see how badly this and the whole situation have driven him into despair.

And it seems like a wholly sadistic and pointless cruelty JP’s inflicting on him, but oh no it isn’t, as we’ll see in the next issue. All of JP’s talk about stories and narratives and fictions that people crave at the expense of reality come to a head in, what else, a fight, the only fight in the comic as of yet. Maybe as cynically as this series has ever approached the premise of getting two guys to duke it out for people’s entertainment as a form of storytelling.

A premise that you wouldn’t remotely be able to tell with Ryu or Sakura or Chun-Li and so on, because this is professional street fighting stripped to it’s coldest capitalist reality, a cruel and exploitative distraction run by number-crunching profiteers playing along chumps with their reasons for butchering each other publicly.

Y’know somehow Street Fighter was less dark when druglord dictators and eugenicist cult leaders were in charge of these tournaments.

#street fighter #capcom #fighting games #videogames #sf #sf6 #ken masters #jp #street fighter 6 #sf6 comic

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lionydoorin · 2 years

Note

wait wait wait wait. i gotta know more of what nancy’s side of the rockstar au relationship is like. how does she react to all the sudden attention? do people start accusing her of being a homewrecker and getting in between steve and robin?? is she treated differently at work?? anything u can think of i’ll take

hi hi hi! okay. this post might be a little long cause i've got a lot to say.. i kinda want to analyze miss wheeler for ya, if that's alright?

so, to start, a few things about rockstar rob!au nancy:

she's a rookie journalist working at the hawkins post's entertainment department;

hates her job cause she shares it w like a bunch of old dudes that have Zero respect for her (and also because she set her dreams of leaving hawkins back because of some family problems, and being at the post just reminds her of everything she couldn't accomplish);

took the job cause she wanted to make things right and make sure the article about robin didn't have a misogynistic view nor was filled with lies (that she knew, for a fact, the post would try to go for, cause their only source of income for the entertainment department is making up stories about the Two people that left hawkins and got famous aka steve and robin)

ok! with that set, let's get to ronance.

because of the tour and how close she got to robin, even before their relationship was official, nancy experienced her fair share of paparazzi and celebrity drama from the side. having their journey from the concert venue back to the tour bus delayed because the security guards had to deal with the amount of cameras waiting for robin outside, reading through a bunch of articles (the good ones and the bad ones – comments harassing robin and talking about their looks, their voice, their "relationship" with steve) and talking about the public attention with robin during their sessions. robin would mention some of her biggest struggles, and how part of the public invalidated their sexuality, identity and overall being.

and knowing that being involved with someone famous requires having your name talked about, even for a little bit, and being somewhat of a "public" person, nancy (and robin) knew they had every reason and right to try and be secretive for a while. at least until nancy felt comfortable with the idea of being a couple in public – since it's like coming out to the entire world, and having the entire world acknowledge who and what you are in a way people that aren't public don't have to experience.

so, as long as they're a secret, nancy thinks she can live her life. they kiss behind closed doors and pretend to be acquaintances, friends on the outside. only the tour production and a few close friends know about them; they don't hide their affection as long as it's not visible to the public eye. they almost got caught a few times, even, and every single time makes nancy's heart jump, fear crippling down her spine and leaving goosebumps behind. as much as the adrenaline of having to hide is enticing to them for a while, the whole thing also leaves them exhausted and frustrated with everything they wish they could do.

it takes a while for nancy to fight her demons and face her fears, but, after the tour ended and they had to go long distance for a few months, and seeing how she couldn't handle being away from robin, they decide to move in together, right? and they know they should come out as a couple if that's gonna happen cause there's no way in hell they'd sustain the secret relationship thing.

since she works for the post and they're the number one source of robin-related gossip for the entire country, nancy knows she would never have peace to date publicly as long as she's working in hell, so the whole moving in with robin is a perfect excuse to leave her job and apply for bigger newspapers in new york city. the article about robin was a big success, and lots of companies were more than interested in having her in their crew, so it wasn't hard to land a job. so, as soon as she moves, they come out as a couple, and, well, have to adapt to a few changes.

some things are the way she expected they'd be. lots of cameras, a constant feeling they're being observed, having to answer and avoid questions, everything. nancy was dating someone public, but she didn't want to become a celebrity or anything, so she had a few rules and boundaries she didn't wanna cross and robin respected that. she made a private twitter and instagram accounts as her public ones got a boom of followers with their announcement. she didn't post much on them, just the occasional pictures with robin whenever she felt like it and lots of work stuff, and nothing can get her used to the fact in ten minutes she gets more than five thousand likes on whatever she posts— and fifty thousand as soon as it involves robin.

she did become the target of some harassment, but she tries to ignore it the best way she can. robin is very supportive, and they teach her how to filter comments on posts and not get notifications for the things she didn't want to see. nancy still read some in secret, though, no matter how gut-wrenching it is; people really did call her a homewrecker for shattering their fantasies of stobin being real, or invalidated her own sexuality and her love for robin. they tried to paint her as someone who was only in for the money and fame, like she only got her job and was where she was because she was using robin as a ladder for success.

they both knew it wasn't true, but, yeah, it hurts nonetheless.

meanwhile, her new job is fairly respectful of her relationship. nancy's coworkers don't ask a lot of questions about robin, just the occasional one or two people asking if they can get autographs or if robin is joining her in office parties. they also don't use nancy as a way to get to robin, or steve, or any other celebrity they know; and nancy appreciates the way it makes her feel like she's there for her own merit, and not to be used as a pawn to get to celebrities.

but, of course, she gets the occasional calls and e-mails from the hawkins post asking if she can do them a favour and give them exclusives. interviews, earlier announcements, or actually anything nancy would be willing to spill in exchange for money. she blocks every single one of them whenever they try to reach out.

adjusting is hard, at first, but robin is always there and she's so, so thankful for it. they talk about life a lot and robin always wants to reassure she can set as many boundaries as she wants to. they don't hide how they feel from each other; robin offers to find her a therapist that has dealt with this before if she wants to, just so she can have someone other than rob themself to talk to. she tells nancy she can archive all of the posts involving her if she feels like it. always checks in to be sure it's okay to post this, or that, or if it's fine to mention her in an interview and tell certain stories if she's not bothered by it.

nancy is fully aware that being with robin comes as a challenge, but in the end, it's all worth it. there's no one else she'd rather be with :)

#sorry for the rambleeeeeeee #i cant shut up about them. i have a hard time shutting up in general but about rockstar robin? oof #impossible #i hope its not too long and like actually understandable 🤧 i feel like i went in circles for a sec #rj thank you AGAIN for giving me a space to talk abt rockstar au ronance more. im Hugging u tight 🫂#ronance #rockstar!robin au #nancy wheeler #<- gonna tag her separately since this is primarily about her #ask #el fandom birb

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tiramis-hoon · 1 year

Text

KICK IT ! - cute guy↷

✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*✩*:｡.･ﾟ･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡*✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*☆

a couple of days had passed since you’d finally landed after what seemed to be the longest awaited flight ever to be flown, and you were absolutely ecstatic to be back in the place you belonged - your home. of course, some things weren’t completely the same, the house was different, a lot of shops had changed, but that didn’t matter since you still knew the place like the back of your hand.

odd pieces of clothes were chucked about your small bedroom as you unpacked, when three gentle knocks and an appearance from your mum forced you to climb over the heaps of books blocking the way. despite your best attempts at hiding it, you weren’t able to escape your mother’s examining eyes.

“why haven’t you finished unpacking yet? i thought i told you to finish by lunch.” usually this type of nagging would just be another part of your daily life, however, the discontent face staring right at you made you think otherwise.

“i’m just really tired and i can’t find anywhere to put half of this stuff. we’re not even doing anything today so i’ll just do it in my own time and finish later.”

“sweetheart we have guests tonight, we’ve invited our new neighbours round for a nice dinner. i beg you to please please please finish.”

“WHAT? why didn’t you tell me? they won’t come in my room though, can’t we all just stay in the living room or something?” you whined.

your mum lets out an exhausted sigh, “the living room will be for the adults. they have a son your age i think, so we thought you could get to know him here whilst we chat. anyways, clean. your. room. thank you!”

you groaned when you heard a shout from down the corridor sneak through the crack between the door, “and don’t forget their names, mr and mrs yang!!”

and so, you got down to work.

6pm had just rolled around and the room that once looked like it had been ransacked to some degree was finally half decent. a quick shower refreshed your mind but you weren’t entirely sure what was the appropriate attire was for meeting a new neighbour, so you threw on a slightly casual-smart sweatshirt on with some wide legged jeans and swiftly fixed up your hair and face in hopes you would seem like a regular functioning member of society.

you rushed down the stairs as the chatter got louder and mentally prepare yourself for social interaction, because let’s be honest, you weren’t quite the most outgoing if all you want to do on a saturday night is cuddle up in your bed on netflix.

greeting the couple from next doors as polite as physically possible, a tall figure appears from behind them. your eyes meet and you can’t help when your blood pressure just drops. oh. my. gosh. you knew he was your age yet the one small inconvenient factor your parents did not tell you was that he was the cutest boy you’d set eyes on.

you so wanted to play it cool but your voice came out in a rather whispered and squeaky tone. “hey, i’m y/n.” you clear your throat, “sorry i’m a bit all over the place haha”.

“hi, i-i’m uh jungwon.” he posture seemed to be calm but his cheeks burned a subtle type of crimson and his eyes darted randomly after the smallest bit of eye contact.

so so so cute.

dinner had finished up and both of your parents ushered you to your room once again. the door creaks, and you let him get comfy as he awkwardly sits at the edge of your bed. there’s a tangible stiffness to the feeling of the room and jungwon had about enough of it.

“so i’m guessing you’re gonna be going to the same sixth form school as me? my parents said you were in my year.” he questions you and your anxious footsteps come to a halt when you perch on your windowsill, cradling your legs in your arms.

“um yeah, decelis, right? i was there from years 7 to 9ish but we left the country for my parents’ job. we came back here since their project finished up. what type of subjects are you doing?” you look up from fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your jeans.

“bio, chem, maths. you?”

“same but physics instead of bio because i’m not basic,” you jestered.

“i may be basic but at least i’m not insane!” he defends himself, throwing his hands up like you might just shoot him for his (weird) choice.

you laugh and hide into the hands covering your red face, “oh my daysss, fuck off please, i get enough of this from my friends, let me off.”

“tut tut tut, language! and i’m not gonna stop pestering you. seriously, what even convinces someone to take physics?? i wanna know,”

you peek through your fingers before sliding your hands down to the sides of your neck, and your eyes meet once more. there’s a small tug at the corners of both of your lips; somehow, you can’t peel your eyes from each other.

you needed a small break from banter that continued in the later hours of the night, so you tell jungwon you just needed to nip to the bathroom for a moment. you freshen up and look in the mirror. you ask yourself why you didn’t put more effort into looking nice, but he’d already met you so it was a little too late to redo first impressions.

as you walk back, a muffled conversation could be heard through the door of your bedroom, so you assume that jungwon must be on a call to someone. you know you really shouldn’t snoop into other people’s personal stuff, but curiosity got the better of you and you place your ear to the door.

“-her? ugh, she so fake you wouldn’t believe it! i know she’s new and all so i should act nice or she’ll be all over my ass about it. i miss the grandma that was here before.”

oh. maybe your intuition was wrong when you thought that you were sincerely getting along well. this was not the best way to find out the guy you think is cute doesn’t feel the same way.

then the door opened.

previous | masterlist | next

✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*✩*:｡.･ﾟ･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡*✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*☆

synopsis — as if moving country wasn't hard enough, jeon y/n now has to find balance between her school life and trying to keep it together in taekwondo. so what happens when a boy breaks into her hectic life without warning?

✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*✩*:｡.･ﾟ･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡*✧*。｡･ﾟ･｡･ﾟ･.｡:*☆

a/n ↷ I'M SO SORRY FOR NOT UPDATING FOR AGES!! n e ways,, drama is brewing 🤭

taglist: @ghostfacd @haknom @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs

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icarusisstillflying · 2 years

Text

💥 writeblr intro 💥

hiii folks, this is gonna be my writeblr (hopefully we’ll see how motivated i am) so i want to do a little intro!!

about me

you can call me layne, or if u want to call me icarus, that works too

queer

they/them

disabled with like a million chronic illnesses

21 yrs old

i’m a college dropout with absolutely no plan ahaha

i work as a barista and am looking for music gigs on the side (i still need to get better at the music part oops)

currently reading: Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

about my writing

i write mostly fiction/sci-fi/fantasy

almost all of my characters have powers or magic or aren’t even completely human

i like to write really cool fight scenes, i don’t care if they seem unreasonable, pretend it’s an anime idk. they have superpowers they can do anything

i like to explore the darker elements of these powers and worlds, so a lot of my work is nsfw bc of gore and stuff like that

like incorporating horror into my stories as well as just writing horror too

i write diverse characters and do the best research i can; if someone notices i’ve made a mistake or have accidentally written something insensitive, please let me know! i am always learning!

if i could draw i would make all of my works graphic novels as my choice of media, but alas, i am incapable of doing much more than staring at my tablet and getting angry when the picture doesn’t draw itself

my wips:

Generation Six

sci-fi, superpowers

a woman spends her entire life recruiting people known as Guardians to help protect the world from danger, but the biggest threat she’s ever faced is about to upend it all. not to mention the evil little shadow demon that lives in her head is constantly trying to overtake her and go on a murderous rampage. she’s a bit busy.

large cast, multiple povs

this series is on the back burner for now, i just am not sure where i want to go with it

an untitled pirate story

fantasy, magic gay pirates

the most feared pirates in the world is a crew of six people… and a magic cat? the captain is searching for the greatest treasure known to humankind, and she’d probably have it already, if they didn’t keep hitting all these roadblocks. seablocks? they’re on a boat.

small main cast

Murders of Crow Creek

western setting with supernatural/paranormal elements

a small town sheriff recruits an interesting group of people to help her solve a string of murders: a witch of the Dark Gods, a bounty hunter with a memory problem, a demon killer with a smoking problem, and a bartender with one arm and a hell of a lot of knives tucked in his boots. what’s the worst that could happen? ignore the all out war between gods that they accidentally get themselves into

small main cast

there’s ghosts, demons, angels, vampires, all sorts of supernatural beings just chillin in the wild west

personally love this one bc the main character, the sheriff, is just getting too old for this nonsense; she’s also a big time lesbian yeehaw

Kid Mother

sci-fi, post-apocalyptic

a disease has wiped out nearly the entire human population. if things weren’t already bad, this disease made it so that babies just. couldn’t be born. until one is. with the human population dwindling, and groups trying to speed up that process, our main character has to travel across the country with the first baby that’s been born in two decades so that scientists may be able to find a way to fix this entire thing. no problem.

very small cast

us vs the world trope

other info

i love answering literally any questions about my wips so pleeeeeaaaase ask away!!

i’ll probably also post any fanfics i write bc i have a lot of them, and i really need somewhere to share them oopsies

any advice about other places i can share my writing would be appreciated

please refrain from giving criticism unless it’s 1. constructive and 2. something i asked for :) sometimes i just Can Not Handle It

i do not tolerate any form of bigotry. if i see any clownery on any of my stuff, you will be blocked and reported. just don’t be an ass.

uhhh i think that’s about it? not sure what else to put in a writeblr intro, so if you made it this far, thank you so much! hopefully i will have more detailed posts about those wips up at some point before the year ends! follow if your interested, i’ll probs follow back :)

💥

#writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #my wips #works in progress #writeblr intro #intro

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vrmxlho · 1 year

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tyy @phoenix666stuff for requesting! i rlly loved writing this, hope you enjoy <333 also reqs are open!!

pairing. atsumu x gn! reader

word count. 794

synopsis. you’re new in town and japan as a whole. lucky for you, your assigned guide knows all the best places to take you...

a/n. this is so not proofread so if you see a spelling mistake or a grammatical error i want you to pretend it’s not there, if it’s negligible; but if you genuinely don’t understand what’s going on lmk and i’ll fix it <333 this is so bad, i promise i don’t always write this badly T-T ++ idk why i included diary entries lmao i just didn’t know how to show the passing of time without literally writing *time passes* sorry it’s so short :(((

cw. swearing, one mention of death

p.s. red camellia also symbolise love

dear diary,

i’m in japan now! it’s nice to be in a different place. home is safe and comforting but the uncertainty of an entirely new country is just as exciting. the anxiety is eating away at my stomach but it’s almost comforting at the same time, i’ll overcome it. i’m about to immerse myself into a whole new world, a new beginning, so many new possibilities.

the school’s assigned me a sort of guide to help me with the language and the cultural barrier. i think his name’s atsumu? i’m not sure. i’m meeting him in the library tomorrow.

wish me luck!

goodnight diary, speak to you tomorrow, love [name]

“atsumu miya, nice to meet you, and you are?” his hand’s outstretched. his entire vibe felt so comforting, it reminded you a bit of home; you could already feel yourself warming up.

“[name], [surname]. it’s nice to meet you too.”

it was sunny that day; it honestly felt like the sun was always out when you were with him. you didn’t understand why, but he genuinely felt like home away from home. your soul was serene and there was already a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

he had picked kitchen by banana yoshimoto, telling you it was the only book you’d ever need, and somehow it really was. the two of you sat at those uncomfortable desks for hours, yet the sun still shone and neither of you wanted to leave. by the time you had finished you could feel your heart break. ‘it must be because of how beautiful the book was…’

“when will we see each other again?” the sound of your own voice made you cringe. ‘that sounded too desperate.’ but he just laughed. he just fucking laughed what a cute, cute laugh. maybe your heart was already healed.

“tomorrow i hope.”

“yes!” you didn’t even care if you came off as overly enthusiastic, you just wished he’d laugh again.

dear diary,

he’s so beautiful, his face, his eyes, oh darlings his eyes, especially when he laughs. and his laugh!! it could bring me back from death…

we’re going to the national museum of japanese history tomorrow, i’m so excited, gosh what should i wear?? i’m so nervous…

again, i need your luck so please pray for me

goodnight my dearest diary, love [name]

today he was holding red camellia; he looked pretty; the red of the flowers complimented the red on his cheeks, just like the red on yours.

“why the flowers?” you asked.

“flowers are very important to japanese culture and they’re very symbolic.”

“and what do red camellia mean?”

“it symbolises a noble death among japanese warriors.”

“how gruesome…”

“it has other meanings too.”

“like?”

“cmon these tickets do expire.”

dear diary,

i had katsudon today, just like mirage sakurai from kitchen! it was so good, i can really feel myself getting used to japan. everyone’s so nice (nice honestly doesn’t even begin to cover it).

and atsumu… every time i’m with him i feel like i’m having tachycardia. in a good way. i feel like my face is always red, i wish i was better at hiding it.

what should i do?

please get back to me diary, love [name]

p.s. why am i asking as if an inanimate object is gonna tell me what to do…

one day you found yourself in his kitchen. baking. there was flour everywhere, eggs cracked on the floor and sugar spilling from the counter. it was a mess. a mess atsumu had created. the moment he saw you he had slipped, dropping everything he was holding. you both were also messes, laughing messes, and stupid pining, lovesick messes.

the days you spent with him felt endless. you couldn’t remember a time you weren’t with him. everything passed so quickly. the truly happy memories you had were always with him. why was it that everything you ate when with him was so delicious? why was it that every negative emotion was dulled when he was around? every moment glowed in your heart, it ached by how full of love it was. the boy had infused himself into your soul, he was a part of your being.

“aishiteru yo.”

“what does that mean?” you knew exactly what it meant. you’d heard it before in the two months you’d been here. you just wanted to hear him say it again. it felt unreal, you were just verifying this was real life and not a dream.

“it means i love you. the place i like best in this world is with you. no matter where it is, no matter why, if it’s with you, if it’s a place where i can be with you, it’s fine with me.”

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shawty-writes-a-little · 2 years

Text

Ever yours 3.

[part 1] [part 2]

Ram (RRR) x Rajkumari!reader

Word count: 4.4k+

Warnings: None

Summary: Awkward bitches discover what feelings are

An: GOSH HI I’m so sorry I don’t update often I promise I will from now on the next chapters are gonna have some major changes and well angst so well

Life in the capital was getting more settling as the days went by. Though it had barely been a few months, it was a drastic change and y/n was m fretting over every thing at first but things fell into all right places. Ram was actually a great husband from her perspective. He didn’t ask much questions, more over he didn’t care at all to ask anything. Not that she would hide one bit if he wished to do so. Y/n wasn’t doing anything the right patriot wouldn’t do. She took pride in serving for her country even if it meant a crime under the government that ruled them.

She wasn’t that interested in what Ram did with his day either. He would leave in the morning before she would leave and come back after she would return. They exchanged glances as though the house was a mere reminder between their work throughout the day but it sort of was. Ram was teaching y/n the basics of cooking which helped a lot. She wasn’t a master yet but they did well enough as a pair. She would cut most vegetables while he did the ‘big magic’ which was pretty much just mixing them up and it felt pretty strange to her that when she tried the mixing up part it wouldn’t turn out as good.

After dinner both of them resided to bed soon enough or well out of sight from each other since neither would actually fall asleep. Today before they followed their routine Ram told y/n about a friend who would be visiting them for breakfast the following day “Akhtar is a bit cross with me that he couldn’t come at the wedding nor have I introduced you to him.” He said.

“That’s alright I would love to meet your friend I’ll make most of the breakfast tomorrow since we have company tomorrow-“

“About that, since we have company I was thinking I’d make the breakfast given…” it was again a taunt that y/n didn’t cook that well. She was just getting a hang of it and she believed it was quite impressive for someone who has had the servants cook for her the entire life. To think back of her days when she’d throw fever tantrums or random tantrums and whatever dish she wanted would just be there from the kitchen it is now that she realised all the hard work and skillset that goes into making a meal likeable.

“Given I don’t cook well enough as you?” She finished his sentence for him, she would like to wipe off that smug grin off his face she thought, annoyed.

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

—

Mornings usually began with y/n up before Ram and by now she learned her way around coffee and tea better than she did with bigger meals but, progress. She’d prepare Ram’s cup of coffee with her chai followed by Ram making the breakfast before they’d get on with their day.

But today was different, Ram was up earlier than y/n was as she strolled past the kitchen he was already there. “You are up earlier today?”

“Ah yes I told you we had company.” He reminded her as he was almost done with making the breakfast.

“Yes Akhtar! When is he getting—

“Akka!” Someone yelled by their front door as both their heads turned outside the door to look.

“That would be him” Ram said as he walked out of the kitchen and y/n followed behind him as the voice from outside approached inside with heavy pace on the steps.

“Namaste!” He attempted to greet very so friendly to Ram but noticed y/n straightening his figure. First impressions. “Rajkumari.” He nodded in his direction and y/n felt a sudden surprise by the recognition. Or how he knew of her at all. Sure everyone in their state knew her as princess or maybe most of them did because of her rebellions.

“I do not go by titles please-“ she told Akhtar though the familiarity with that title sank in despite the fact she never actually believed to have lived up to it. The palace staff would call her ‘Rajkumari’ mostly even after well into her teens she’d been asking them and the servants who almost raised her to call by her first name, they would refuse as if it was a blasphemy. She missed the exaggeration and sheer loyalty of their tone that felt so homely, they never made her feel like her family was very small.

“This would be Akhtar and Akhtar this is” Ram attempted to introduce both of them but Akhtar already knew of y/n, completed his sentence for him.

“Rajkumari y/n!”

“Not the title!” She corrected Akhtar again. “Wait how do you know of me again? Are you from my state?” Y/n asked hoping her was true because she dearly missed tales of the home she no longer could return to.

“A friend of mine from there told me about you.” Akhtar mentioned, it wasn’t false completely since he did knew it from a friend. From the jungle just close to the borders of the state and the infamous tales of the rebellious princess were quite known, at least around there. But he couldn’t mention that exactly.

“Who?” She simply asked out of genuine curiosity sure she would know whoever it was. She believed she knew almost everyone in her state, mostly she did given all the rallies and public meetings she held.

“You probably don’t know of-“

“Breakfast is settled!” Ram announced setting the last last of plates and y/n turned to him. Akhtar sighed in relief in his mind because lying was not his strongest suit. Not that he’d want to lie to either Ram or y/n in the first place. Especially y/n, she out of everyone would understand his purpose yet it was too soon to trust her with the plan despite her renowned work against the government he can’t be sure yet. Soon maybe.

—

Today came with a more familiar feeling than other for y/n, maybe it came with a rather settling sense than her other days ever since she moved here. She longed for home yes. But the routine she had now was starting to build a new home to her. The campaign was going quite well too, nothing that major yet but people weren’t that affronting to her being there, she met Akhtar as well and it felt as if she finally fitted in-she’d met new people and finally she didn’t dreadfully miss home. Y/n preferred not paying much mind to it but somewhere Ram made her feel like home too. Sure she did not paint any romantic picture of their ‘marriage’ but so far Ram hadn’t been the horrible stone cold disassociate of a husband she assumed most husbands to be and yet he never hovered long enough.

They had their laughs and the routine everyday crawled into but he never meddled. Neither did she. That’s what she’d wanted. For her husband to not meddle often and for her husband to not get familiar with her personal space. For a while it felt as best as their marriage could get. You-won’t-bother-me-I-won’t-bother-you scenario was as best as it could get she assumed but why didn’t feel that way.

Even referring to Ram as titled husband in her head felt so unusual to her why did something felt incomplete? It was all she expected of him why was there an urge to get him to know more of her? To have what they have not so secretive and grey? But what did they have between them nonetheless? She was putting way too much thought into this. Free self leads to a road for incoherent thoughts. Y/n decided to occupy herself with cooking the dinner for tonight. The later part of her day was clear and with Ram not around for a while she can cook by herself and not be just a lending hand since he preferred to do everything by himself.

Rummaging through kitchen cabinets and the copper vessels the entire evening made the kitchen look like a battleground. It sounded like it for sure. Ram could hear the loud banging and crushing of whatever y/n was up to in the kitchen before he even stepped into the house. The closer her stepped to the kitchen the more it seemed like an actual war. “And what are you upto?”

Y/n turned around swiftly placing the bowl of whatever mixture she was holding “Dinner!” She blurted very defensively. The state of her dress that was now drenched with flour and the edges of her dress he could clearly deduct were used as wash cloth.

“Don’t you need some help in the-“

“No!” She raised both her hands and one of it surprisingly held the whistle of a pressure cooker. Why was it in her hands? “It’s almost ready just go to the table”

Ram nodded incredibly confused but there wasn’t much of a choice so he left her to her war in the kitchen. Y/n had set up plates and followed in soon after him, in a different set of clothes. Obviously.

Placing everything she prepared one by one on the table she seemed really proud it made him want to cherish the smile she had on her face as she placed the vessels one by one even when neither of them had spoken anything the grace that followed in—Stop. Why was he thinking about her smile and her grace all of a sudden.

He stiffens his back as y/n serves both their plates sitting across him. “Go on” she encourages. What she cooked doesn’t seem inedible but at the same time he’s confused what to make of it. The supposed rotis were crispy and looked triangle and the sabji had raw cauliflower leaves by the looks of it and a whole…tomato?

That’s not what he wanted to mention to her to dampen her enthusiasm the dinner might not be that good but she tried and seemed to be so proud of it. “It smells nice” he comments before picking up a spoon to try the safest thing on the plate that was rice which was topped with something.

The very first bite in and Ram fell into a huge dilemma of trying to bite it further of cough it out. He had to keep this thought process from showing on his face because the way y/n sat on her seat with her face filled with anticipation of what he’d say about her cooking. So he just nodded. Nodded smiling as much positively as he could with the raw grains of rice with a weird hot taste of some really ungodly spices she would’ve used.

At the most his positive reaction really brought a huge smile on her face. Ram was aware she would find out about the mess of her cooking but better it comes from herself. Besides he would’ve hated to be the one who brings down her pretty—Stop it.

By the time he brought himself to roughy push down what he had with a glass of water she had her first bite and had the same thought process but was rather more open about it than he was. “It’s not—“ it was horrible. She searched for a word that could exceed the effect of horrible. “This tastes monstrous.”

Sighing she agrees with him, he won’t have to eat more or that “I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to hurt my lady’s feelings.” He joked with the title again.

“Ram.” She rebuked quite annoyed again because of him using the calling her ‘my lady’ after she specifically asked him not to.

“Apologies, Rajkumari!” It was very purposeful for him to jest on her this way. At least it could sway her away from the disappointment of the dinner.

“Stop it Ram I—“

“Alright alright” he interrupted her midway “How about for now I go cook dinner and-“

“And I watch you.” Y/n completed his sentence and let out a dejected huff. Everyday he would cook and y/n had to stay on the sideline.

“You can help with the mixing too if you’d like!” Ram was offering her a genuine negotiation and if just felt like a joke in her face that at best she was good at mixing stuff?

“Great” she said with fake enthusiasm “But we don’t have any vegetables left I used most of them.”

“Oh? I have an idea” he stood up as the chair roughly dragged along the ground “We can go to the eatery”

“Is it like a bhojanalay?”

“Yes! It’s just a few blocks from here” Ram told her and was surprised that she didn’t know of it even though he assumed she took her trips to the city.

“Okay then.”

—

The eatery was a small place with tiny tables and ground seating. The person there who seemed to be of a manager sort gave Ram a short salute, she didn’t pay much mind to that most probably because Ram would’ve been a regular customer. As they settled down the dynamic of the eatery felt so much like life back at palace to her, you just tell them what you want to eat and it’s just there for you. Ram made a joke about ‘Rajkumari’ feeling insulted in having to eat amongst the others on the ground which she did not find funny of course but the banter was now very common.

It was the first time both of them were outside in each other’s company and for the pair that barely shared anything other than silly quips they did not run out of things to talk about. Ram told her about the people he’d known for years, the capital life and the conversation kept changing in every directions. She didn’t get to ask and he didn’t get to tell what he did for work. That was a misfortunate revelation meant for another time.

The eatery also happened to be a side sweet shop and y/n couldn’t move past the glass display while they were on their way out. Eventually after suffering the dilemma of which orange sweets to choose from she picked jalebi. She reminded herself she was infact a grown woman now but back at home she always had to sneak these in even as a grown up. Her handmaidens and the kitchen staff and way too many theories about how eating one too many sweets could lead to her downfall (which was basically not finding herself a proper groom) That’s why the festivals were terribly awaited. “It’s not unhealthy if it’s prashad!” Ram laughed at that as she explained it so casually while walking back home.

He didn’t know why it felt that way but it was a but disappointing returning back already. Their time seemed to have passed so quickly not that he desired that very much. Did he? Under all those banters she was a hearty soul and very cheerful about every third thing you could name. He wondered if she could get out more than 4 sentences without bursting into laughter. Her laugh. God her laugh—

“I think I do have one photo album” whatever she was going on about brought him back from his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Ram had no slight recollection of what she was talking about.

“The photos! I maybe brought them with me do you wish to see?” She asked raising both her brows. Secretly she wanted him to say yes. Maybe way too much secretly she didn’t even want to admit it to herself.

“Of course!”

Ram followed her into her room, his old room to be precise. She hasn’t changed the placements of the room at all, everything looked just the way they did. Yet it didn’t feel the way, it didn’t feel like those long endless nights repeating days after days. Busy days where he could probably not return home, short ones where he would and just sit in this room with a book and the same mundane routine over and over. Not much changed yet, he still slept alone but y/n’s presence felt different. He didn’t have a feeling he could explain to himself but he could tell by the way his same room looked so different. She made it lively.

“Here!” She found the album and placed it on the bed, which was the only seating arrangement for the both of them other than a rocking chair. She went through the photos one by one as Ram sat next to her. Still with a very safe distance, he didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable at all. Even though there was nothing like that between the two of them.

With every photo y/n explained the stories behind them, her first singing lesson, telling him about all the knowledge she had in swordplay turns out she knew about it much more than him, her photos from her uni days which were most recent ones. The way she explained every detail and story to him as if she were reliving them and the utter fascination she talked about her home with was such a dear sight to him.

Y/n turned another page in the album and the photo was of a woman he did not recognise but unlike others, y/n didn’t instantly broke into a story she stared at it for a while. “That’s my mother” she mentioned.

Ram knew of her late mother but they never spoke about it, they rarely every spoke about anything that personal. He didn’t knew what exactly to say he wasn’t aware if they were close or if it was recent. “I’m sorry”

“It’s fine-she passed away during my birth” y/n told him as his eyes softened. Ram knew what it was like but she never even got to know of her mother.

“Do you think of her often?” He wondered what it was like for her growing up. She probably had plenty handmaidens growing up, her father too. But she would have missed her often, he wondered what it was like to miss someone whose voice you’ve never heard.

“I do” y/n shrugged her shoulders, “I miss my father often these days but I can write to him.”she had answered this question a lot of times before “Mother well- I would have liked for her to be there-to have been there during my childhood, people say I would have turned out less rebellious if she was around.” She let out a short chuckle at that and Ram too smiled.

“Do you ever..miss your family?” She asked hesitantly unsure if it was her place to ask him that not wanting to overstep any boundaries “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to-“

“Yes. Every single day.” He shifted a bit crossing his legs into his arms before he continued “I think of my mother a lot-how she would’ve been so proud to know I can cook all meals-I—I had a younger brother too, he would’ve grown up to be much muscular than I-he always used to say that. My father-he taught me everything I know everytime I think of him it’s as if I’m a child again-looking over my back to see if he’s watching what I’m doing and he would assure me that I’m doing it right…I still want him to tell me-I know he can’t but if he could just assure me-once. That I’m on the right path, if I’ve got it right.” He said that with such serenity in his voice that threatened to break down. It had been a long time since he had put words to how much he missed them and how shambling his sense of purpose felt most days.

Y/n reached for his hand and put hers on top of his. “You’re doing alright. I’m sure wherever they are they’re looking down at you, very proud and they’re with you as well. If you were to stumble on your way one way or another they would’ve let you know” y/n said offering him the most comforting smile as he finally faced her. Her grounding expressions held such familiarity as if he had known her for years. As if she held his whole world in his moment. The fragility she created in the way she looked at him felt so reassuring. He knew whatever they had among them was obviously out of circumstances and forced upon her, had it been her choice they never would’ve met in the first place. But despite of the odds she was here. She was his wife, he had a family now.

“Thank you.” He almost shredded tears with the sense of comfort she built around her, but the thought of finally belonging was rather a nicer feeling. He cleared his throat picking up the photo album again, it had been a long time he had talked about his family and with y/n strangely he didn’t feel vulnerable. But he felt the conversation would get much melancholy for when he had finally started to develop these different unnamed feelings towards her “I would like to look at more of these!”

“Sure!” She smiled wide again knowing he purposely changed the topic but she was glad he talked to her. As Ram shifted the page a photo she dreaded showing anyone were to appear, it was a photo from when she was much younger falling off a horse. Her very first horse riding lessons though, she was quite sure Ram would not let that one go “No! Not that photo!” She exclaimed as that picture was just about to turn up, attempting to grab the album back.

“Let me see!” Ram pulled the album backwards in a far distance for her to reach it trying to see which godwaful photo she was so hell bent on not letting him see.

“Absolutely not no! Give it back.” She struggled trying to get the album back rising on her knees on the bed as Ram kept it high in his hands away from her reach.

“No I want to see-“ he debated trying to get her hands trying to snatch the album away to see the picture. Y/n finally leapt in and grabbed the album but absent minded she ended up on his lap.

Ram let go off the album as soon as she came into this close vicinity to him. This was in truth the closest they had ever been to each other. Her face sideways not aware of her situation, celebrating the joyousness of not letting him see the picture. She kept a tight grip on the album to herself and looked at him in attempt to sway her victory in her face, soon realising about her position.

Ram wasn’t fighting to look at the picture anymore, he was looking at her. She noticed that all awkward now. Both of them paused she wasn’t sure what to do as he kept staring at her with such felt expressions. As if he were looking at a painting, her cheeks turned red at the thought of that. Neither of them spoke or tries to move, a thousand thoughts spiralled in y/n’s head as Ram kept looking at her with such adoration. He moved forward to her and she didn’t move. She let him until they much closer to each other.

Y/n knew what this was her married friends had told her about it, the romance of it all and at the time she found it boring and painful to hear about. She reasoned them she were to never marry anyone. Which was true at the time when she found all of the romance good as long as she was left out of it. Now she dreaded not listening to them at the time. She’s too close with Ram what if she closes the gap and kisses him and he doesn’t like it at all. She could be a bad kisser for all she knows, not only would she have established she was bad at this it would get so uncomfortable if he didn’t want to kiss her back. That would be embarrassing. As Ram leaned in she cleared her throat and pulled away.

Rather not kiss the stupid gorgeous man we certainly do not feel all the said unsaid romance feelings for than make a fool out of ourselves. She casually slipped off of his lap and chuckled getting the album between them. “It’s a really embarrassing photo!” Ah yes the photo’s what’s embarrassing not your intimacy skill set. She was cursing herself on the inside.

Ram too was doing the same but opposite. He gathered y/n did not share the same feelings given how close they were and she pulled back. He was just as embarrassed but likewise did not let it show.

After that both of them talked till the hour of night was so late they didn’t even notice when either of them had fallen asleep. They fell asleep on the same bed for tonight unknowingly. Well the immense awkwardness awaited them for the following morning but for now the house finally felt like a home.

—

An2.0 HELLO please ignore all typos and feedback is always appreciated love you mwah

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#ram x reader #ram rrr #ram rrr x reader #ramaraju x reader #ram charan rrr #ram charan #rrr fanfic #rrr

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