#he’s pretty much rocky and freckle | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

a-libra-writes · 1 year

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If you don’t mind, may I request headcanons for the lackadaisy characters reacting to the reader(GN) saving them by taking a bullet that was going to hit them and almost dies from it?

GN reader, most of these imply the reader and character are in a romantic relationship or at least close. obvs mentions of injury, blood, morphine, hospitals etc and the angst that follows! Our kitties arent doing well :(

♣️Rocky - The fact you took a bullet for him is ... a lot. That takes processing, something Rocky isn't good at. It ends up manifesting as a long, drawn-out anxiety attack that gives him jitters, a little dissociation and mild mania. Eventually the Arbogasts asks Freckle to just get him out of the house and do something with him; they'd call when you woke up. When you're awake, the tabby is making his usual quips and chatter, but his off-kilter mood is obvious to even your morphine-addled mind. Rocky's more disheveled than usual and clearly hasn't slept. His shirt still has blood on it - your blood.

He's is ready to go absolutely feral on the person who did this, channeling all his fear and guilt into a single plan of revenge. He's so full of this manic energy that it's hard for him to keep still, let alone eat or sleep. But first! You're awake! Even if it's clear he's unwell, he's trying to smile and assure you that you'll be back on your feet in no time! So don't you worry, he and Freckle will take care of it. No amount of exhausted arguing will divert him from this.

You're stuck in bed for days, so you don't know exactly what happens. It's up to Freckle to tell you, as he went along with his cousin - but he's tight lipped about it, and fidgety, like always. Once that's dealt with, Rocky's fixating switches to fussing over you. And his heart is in the right place, but ... he's exhausted, all that lack of sleep and emotional turmoil catching up. Eventually he just passes out on the bed and you let him curl up at your side for a while. Rocky's excellent company (and a questionable nurse) in the following weeks. He has plenty of stories, music and chatter to keep you occupied.

♣️Freckle - He is, uh, not coping with this well. At all. He jumps to action to shoot whoever did this... Several times, and keeps shooting long after they're dead. He doesn't stop until his cousin calls out to him. Freckle is in something of a daze on the way to the back-alley doctor - wow, people have a lot of blood in their body, but now it's all over you - and doesn't start throwing up until the bullet gets pulled out of you.

He's sent out of the makeshift operating room because even Rocky can tell he won't cope with it. How could he? Isn't this his fault? Maybe if he reacted sooner, it wouldn't have happened. The poor guy is sleepless for days and consumed with too much guilt to visit until he's all but dragged in your sickroom by Ivy. Freckle fidgets often and struggles to look into your eyes - it goes a long way to just reassure him and promise you aren't angry. He shot the bastard who did it, after all.

He visits most days, bringing soup (his mother seems to think you have a terrible flu?) and slowly, slowly talking more and relaxing. He has a better bedside manner than he thinks; Freckle's a fairly quiet companion and has a good idea of what you need. Changing your bandages makes him feel pretty awful, but he's a good help. If you decide to continue bootlegging after your recovery, he's extra jumpy and protective of you.

♣️Ivy - Ohhh nonononono no, this is not happening. She's grabbing your shoulders and yanking you toward her, ignoring the blood getting all over her. She's a mess and doesn't even think of the danger you're both in; the bullets and gunfire keeps on all around while she holds onto you and tries to pull you to safety. Small as she is, with pure determination and adrenaline, she makes it.

You don't remember much after that, but the girl's right in your face as you slowly come to. Ivy looks a complete mess; having been crying for the the last hour, and before that watching intently while a bullet was yanked out of you. At least she washed the blood off her arms, but the clothes she was wearing are utterly ruined. Ivy alternates between chattering apologies and quiet fidgeting, even if you're too loopy to respond properly.

Eventually she has some strings pulled to get you to a nice hospital, with no one asking questions. This whole situation alters her for the worse; she gets more frequent nightmares and struggles to focus in school. Nearly every day she comes by you bring you snacks and magazines and nice flowers for your room; sometimes seeming a little frantic, like she was trying to make up for something.

♣️Mitzi - She is furious. Someone told her when you woke up, and you hear her swishing dress and clacking heels rushing down the hall. Her eyes are red, her make up is ruined and she practically shakes you. Even though you're still full of morphine, she demands you promise to never, EVER do that again. Zib has to remind her that a) you're still drugged out of your mind and b) the bandages are getting bloody.

While she'd want you in a proper hospital, they'd ask too many questions. You stay in the apartment above the cafe. She's too squeamish (and guilty) to help change your bandages, but she does bring you food, some records to listen to, an extra pillow, and so on. It's obvious Mitzi struggles to talk casually, as if nothing happened. When you're sleeping, she'll sit at your bedside. If it seems like the wound - or maybe a dream? - is bothering you, she gently pets your hair until you settle.

♣️Viktor - He's only in shock for a few seconds before instinct and absolute fury takes over. The perpetrator is not alive for long, but their last moments are painful. Not that you're around to see it - you've longed passed out from bloodloss. The only thing keeping Viktor from totally rampaging is the awareness that you're in a critical condition.

His old soldier training takes over; he's able to push emotions aside and get you to Elsa, the only one he trusts with this situation. While you're being operated on, he's still stewing. If whoever is responsible still has friends or a leader around, well, that won't be the case for long. Mordecai considers stopping the big Slovak to make him see reason ... but just ends up helping him instead. 'Keeping him out of trouble', the shadowy man claims, but really he's just as angry.

Once you're awake and coherent, it takes Viktor a while to sit in with you. He's disheveled and tired, and has trouble meeting your eyes. His bedside manner is ... basically nonexistent, but earlier Elsa walked him through the basics of what foods are best and how the bandages need to be fixed. After this, he's adamant about not wanting you on jobs any more, even if you're recovering well. The fact you took the bullet for him is even worse, in his mind. He could've taken it; you should have let him take it.

♣️Zib - Nope, he's not okay. Definitely not coping well with this situation. It's bad enough he got involved in one gunfight, now a second and this happens? He wants to get the hell out of this speakeasy. Anyone can see how jittery he is. Zib alternates between smoking too much and avoiding your sickbed, or drinking too much and sleeping by your side. When it's two am and he's resting beside you and listening to your labored breathing, he really wishes he was shot instead.

He thinks he's pretty shit at caring for anyone, but he's actually not bad, especially when he's half-sober. Helping with the bandages gets him feeling queasy and guilty, but getting food and keeping you company isn't so bad. Now and then, he asks if you still want to hang around this place - what do you think about leaving, with him and the band? If you're a triggerman for Lackadaisy, why don't you reconsider? Is it really worth it? And so on.

Expect a lot of late-night discussions when he's restless and can't keep his mind wandering. What if you had died, what if you get sick like this, what if you just left with him? Where would you all go? More than once you've fallen asleep in the middle of his talking, but he doesn't mind.

♣️Atlas - Everything is spinning, but you can feel his arms around you. You don't realize how much blood has soaked through his suit. And for the first time, you hear him shout - his voice resonates through his chest as you rest against it.

Eventually you wake up in a hospital bed, though the blanket is something from home and there's flowers all over the windowsill - wait, is that a radio? The nurses don't say much, but you're also not in a state to talk. You aren't sure if it's been one day or many, but finally he visits. He looks more tired than you've seen him, and far more solemn. He puts his hand on your's and explains you'll be leaving the hospital soon and recovering in his manor, along with a live-in nurse. This is quite a shock if you two aren't married, but if you are, it's nice to go home again. The guest room is already set up with what you need.

You don't hear whatever came of that triggerman, though the Lackadaisy staff whisper about Viktor and Mordecai being away for some time. Atlas doesn't want you about the cafe or speakeasy anymore, or out on your own in general. It'll take time for you to recover, but even longer for his paranoia and agitation to lessen. He seems the same to his business associates and employees, but those who know him better ...

🏵Serafine - She only pauses for a moment, then jumps to action. Serafine doesn't have to say anything to Nico, he's already picking you up while she mows down whoever shot you. Outwardly she's calm, inwardly she's furious. At the gunman, at herself, at you. Well, they keep a doctor on call for this reason. Serafine holds you very carefully in the car ride to the hotel, alternating between talking about revenge and reassuring you that you'll be just fine. No need to fret.

Everything's fuzzy after that. Serafine isn't there when you awaken, but you're in her bed. If you're a girl, you're probably in her nightie, too (when did your clothes get changed?). There's warm food on the nightstand, enough morphine to take out an elephant and a little vase of flowers. It's like any other morning when you wake up in her bed, well. Except the drugs and the hole in your chest.

Eventually she comes back, with more food and a disturbingly calm demeanor. Whoever that gunner was, well, they're dealt with, and so is their boss. Isn't that good news, cher(ie)? You just rest up and you'll be back on your feet. The stitches are neat and the bandages aren't too tight - understandable, considering how much she was threatening the doctor. Nico tells you all about it later.

🏵Nico - He uh, probably manhandles you more than he should as he gets you into the car. He wants to retaliate - to bash in the gunman's head rather than put a bullet in it - but Nico knows a bad shot when he sees it. He grits his teeth and keeps you in his arms while Serafine floors it, not caring how much blood gets on his clothes or white coat.

As much as he wants to sit in on the operation, it makes him restless. So he settles for pacing in and out of the room, often reminding the doctor how unfortunate it'll be for him if something goes wrong. He's quietly boiling in the perpatrator, too; by the time you're bandaged and tucked in bed, he and his sister already have a plan of retaliation. While you're still doped up and asleep, he gives you a kiss on the brow and disappears to get the job done.

Once you come to, there's flowers on the nightstand and a maid coming in with room service. You stay in the Savoy's suite during your recovery; Nico only sleeps on the couch because he moves a lot in his sleep and doesn't want to disturb you (he still naps right by your side). He's not careful enough to help with changing bandages, but he's excellent company when you're bored. Nico only laughs when you bring up the gunman. Old news, he's taken care of it. He'll even share the grisly details.

🏵Mordecai - He doesn't react to the blood immediately. His mind tells him to clear the area first - but. That's a lot of blood. He's acutely aware the bullet was meant for him. The logical side starts to short-circuit once you're in the backseat of the car, bleeding all over the coat he wrapped around you. He knows how to put pressure on a wound, and he thinks he's staying calm, but he snaps viciously at Niko to stop screwing around and drive faster.

He bothers the doctor so much while they work - hovering, observing, commenting - he gets pulled out of the room. Whoever shot you is going to be dealt with, and whoever ordered the hit. Mordecai just wants to make sure you'll survive the next few hours, as that'll determine how he deals with them.

The first few days he's agitated and not sleeping well. Mordecai alternates between fussing and fixating on your wound, and bothering the hell out of whoever's looking after you. He really doesn't settle until the gunman is well and dead, and you're more coherent and talking. Expect lots of lecturing about how stupid it was for you to get in the way, how you need to fix the bandage this way or that, and have you been eating? When Mordecai's away, the Savoys like to come in and cackle about what he did to the gunman. They were also apparently given instructions by him not to bother you, which they gleefully ignore.

🏔Wick - He's completely frozen in place, stuck by distress and panic. It occurs to him to shout for help not when more bullets fly by, but when you start coughing up blood. He has enough wherewithal to get you to the hospital - somehow driving without crashing into anything - but once you're taken away, he just crumples. He's utterly distraught.

Once his mental faculties have recovered just enough to let him stand, he paces. And paces. The receptionist in the waiting room manages to get him to make a phone call; he tries to inform Lacy to just take the day off tomorrow, but the events of the evening all come spilling out. If you both were innocent bystanders in the incident, that's one thing, but if you were involved in some criminal business and that's what put Wick in the line of fire ... well, Lacy has some choice words for her hopelessly infatuated boss.

Once you're stable and resting, he finally allows himself to breathe. The receptionist all but shoves him home because he looks like a mess and he's frightening other patients. By the time you can accept visitors he's (somewhat) rested and bringing you flowers. There's still an awkwardness, so ... at some point, talking about everything is gonna have to happen. But Wick wants you to rest first, and he needs to figure out his own thoughts, without the whiskey.

#ive rewritten this many times im tired of looking at it LMAO pls enjoy #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #freckle mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #mitzi may x reader #zib zibowski x reader #atlas may x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #wick sable x reader #sedgewick sable x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #dorian zibowski x reader #nicodeme savoy x reader

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mediocrevideopodcast · 4 months

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Any ideas of what a first date would look like with Rocky? 👀

(Side note, I adore your writing style so much!! ^^)

A/N: Awe, thank you so much!🧡 Sorry for the late reply, school has officially started back up again, but I'm glad I was able to get this out! I remember in one of the livestreams Tracy said that he'd see nothing wrong with taking you to 7/11 for a date, which let's be real, is my ideal man. Enjoy!

Extravagant; Theatrical; Moonstruck. These are but three of the most common words to describe Rocky. Despite his handpicked friend group -- or more bluntly, his small group of people willing to stick around -- Rocky tends to draw quite a bit of attention. Very little of it is good, but still: words like that are thrown around with ease. As such, one might assume that Rocky's perfect date would be to some extravagant place where the music never stops and the night never ends.

But… they would be wrong.

Because despite his tales of grandeur, Rocky's life has taught him to enjoy the simpler things. Car rides down the streets of Saint Louis, hopping through abandoned streetcars, pocketing snacks from the big convenience store down the lane… that's what Rocky really looks forward to.

And let's face it: Rocky would love to take you out to a fancy dinner and a movie, but this cat just doesn't have the funds for it. Closest he could get would be the Little Daisy during daylight -- Miss M's always makes sure he's at least somewhat fed -- but he knows all too well that Ivy would leap at the chance to get him back for all the times he's teased her about Freckle.

(He's sent her off on a few wild goose chases before to grab a bite with you, though. Pancakes can't be beat, you know.)

But loving Rocky, you know that money isn't everything. Every moment spent with him is memorable. Many of your date nights are just the two of you hanging out together, whether it be driving around or completing a run for the Lackadaisy -- any moment spent together is so damn good that it's hard to call it anything but a date. Your friends don't quite get it, but that's alright.

For your first ever date though… he tried pretty damn hard.

He hopped the fence of some richman (it was Sedgewick, although he'll never admit to it) to steal some flowers for you, tying them together in orange and blue ribbons. You still have their petals saved, pressed into books and stored in mahogany boxes along with all of the letters he's ever written to you.

The rest of the day is spent in each other's company, driving, talking, and occasionally stopping to dance in the streets of Saint Louis. You can't say you were much of a dancer before meeting him, but he has an infectious energy about him.

He eventually convinces you to let him sneak you into a movie -- he refuses to let you spend a dime on him, even if you're well-off. You can't tell if he likes the thrill of sneaking in, or if it's out of some chivalrous obligation. Likely both.

All in all, the night is one of the most magical you've ever had. No price tags for rose colored glasses, or awkward lapses in silence. Just the two of you, taking every moment as it comes by.

He insists on driving you home that night, just to make sure you get in safe, still thrumming with excitement. Neither of you really want the night to end, but alas.

(It's not like the two of you don't see each other daily.)

(He short-circuits when you press a kiss to his cheek before darting out of the car. His voice cracks a little when he says he'll see you tomorrow, hands slipping off the center console when he leans out to shout. You can't wait to see him again.)

#divider by @cafekitsune #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy rocky x reader #roark rickaby x reader #lackadaisy imagine #lackadaisy imagines

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sadhours · 6 months

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Part two my queen my love my beautiful

Gotta do shower sex after basketball practice like… just need that tension and and Billy calling Steve a bitch idk need it badly

The longing… the vulnerability between the both of them…. Billy wondering how many of Steve’s buttons he can push because *surely* he’s not that easy???

Also

*slides 2 dollars over* *whispers* billy spitting on Steve’s face/mouth please….

I can’t say no to you 😩

part one

The next morning at school, Billy is kind of looking for Harrington. Not outright. He knows he’ll see him at practice but still, he finds himself craning his next over the crowds in the hallways in hopes that he’ll see some floppy brown hair. He’s actually in like, shock that it even happened last night. But Billy’s kind of obtained this skill, and maybe it’s not a morally good skill but he can pick up on vulnerabilities and use them to his advantage. He still thinks it was mostly fate that Wheeler decided to dump Steve at that exact moment. Because of Tommy, Billy was aware that they kind of had a rocky relationship anyways but he was anticipating playing the long run. Prod and poke at Harrington until he snapped. And then there he was, trying to rip that bottle of whiskey from Billy’s hands and his big, brown eyes just looked so sad. A kind of sad that lit a fire in Billy’s gut. It wasn’t news to him that he had a bit of kink for tears, he’d made girls cry before and he used to feel a bit of shame when it excited his dick. He hadn’t ever made a guy cry before. And he preferred them. So seeing those puppy dog eyes trying to convey dominance had him acting on impulse. It was really, so unreal that the events rolled out how they did.

As anticipated, he doesn’t see Harrington until he’s at practice. The lanky dude barrels through to his locker, which thanks to their last names, neighbors Billy’s. He pretty much expects Steve to avert his eyes, ignore him. Billy’s under the impression that Steve’s never even considered being with another guy. He’s not close enough to Tommy to ask if they’d done anything remotely gay in their deceased friendship. But those brown eyes look at him, look almost needy. His plush pink lips part and he’s about to say something, Billy’s leaning into it, so intrigued and desperate to know what he’s thinking but it’s interrupted. Hagan slaps the corner of their locker row and laughs, looking to Harrington who jumps and turns at the sound.

“Princess dump you, again?” Tommy preens, self satisfied grin spreading against his freckled cheeks, “it’s almost like, Carol and I were onto something!”

Steve’s body noticeably stiffens and his fingers move to the dial on his locker. Billy has to hold back his eye roll. Wants to tell Hagan to fuck off because god damnit, he really wanted to know what Harrington was about to say.

“She changed you, man,” Hagan prods on, shaking his head as he changes into his practice clothes. Billy and Steve busy themselves with filing through their lockers and if Billy isn’t mistaken, it’s like they’re waiting for Tommy to go away so they can shamelessly get an eyeful of the each other. Well, at least that’s what Billy’s waiting for.

Luckily, he gets what he’s hoping for. Tommy snorts, slams his locker shut and struts away. Billy sits on the bench and starts getting his boots off. He keeps his eyes on Steve’s legs as he does so, can see the bulge of his cock in his jeans and it brings back some vivid flashbacks of having said cock in his mouth last night. Harrington kicks his nikes off and his hands go to the waist of his jeans, he unbuttons them slowly and Billy glances up to meet those beautiful brown eyes he can’t stop thinking about. That neediness still shining in them. Okay, so Harrington wants him to watch. That’s a good sign. Billy sets his boots next to him and shrugs off his denim jacket, letting his eyes drag back down Steve’s body to his crotch. Harrington pushes the jeans down his thighs and then kicks them off his ankles. It takes quite a lot out of Billy to not shove his face against those white briefs. God, he wants to mouth at that outline of Harrington’s sizable yet flaccid cock.

Next Harrington is shedding off his polo, exposing a bit of chest hair that Billy isn’t expecting. His fingers itch to run through it. And he realizes if any of their teammates walk by, this is gonna look suspicious so he stands and starts undressing himself. And then they’re both standing there in their whitey tighties, eyes shamelessly raking over each others bodies.

“What were you gonna say?” Billy finds himself asking, voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s face flushes and he curtly shakes his head, “Nothing. It’s… don’t worry about it.”

Like a switch, Steve’s quickly shucking his gym clothes on before shoving his feet in his Nikes. Closes his locker quietly and Billy watches as he trails away. Fuck. They were definitely just checking each other out. He’s not mistaken. What the hell was Steve gonna say?

First, they’ve got to run laps. It’s how every practice starts. Steve’s fast. He’s gained a lead on everyone with those long fucking legs of his. Running isn’t Billy’s strong suit. Actually, he absolutely hates cardio. Probably because he’s been smoking since he was twelve. But god damn, he’s determined to catch up to Harrington, even if it leaves his chest burning and his stomach churning. Once he does, Steve drops down to a jog and Billy does the same, turns so he’s jogging backwards and facing Harrington.

“I’m worried,” Billy informs him, frowning.

“About what?” Steve huffs, confusion clouding his puppy dog eyes.

“What you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles and goddamn those butterflies filling Billy’s gut have him extra worried. He was just trying to fuck the guy, not fall in love. Billy doesn’t do love. It’s not real. Sets you up for disappointment. People don’t stay so why the hell would you love them? But Jesus, that smile is pretty. Maybe even prettier than that pathetic sad look he had on his face last night.

“You really wanna know? It’s kinda stupid,” Steve is blushing. Whether it’s from Billy’s interest or the running, he can’t be sure.

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid,” Billy bites back, “But last night I…” he clears his throat, “What is it?”

Steve’s eyebrows bounce around and he purses his lip, chews on the insult thrown his way and tries to figure out how to feel about it. And god damnit he’s cute. Billy hates how cute this fucking dude is.

“It’s… I don’t know, man,” Steve sighs, “Just thanks, I guess.”

“Thanks?” Billy stops in his tracks, hands falling to his sides. “What?”

“Yeah! Thanks,” Steve pats his bicep and picks up his pace, sprinting around the corner of the track. It’s not often Billy’s surprised or left speechless. But here he is, dumbfounded as he watches his team catching up to them. Thanks? Thanks for what? Taking his ass virginity? Did… oh shit. Did Billy actually make Steve feel better? That’s a new feeling. He can’t decide how to process it. It’s alarming how badly he wants to kiss the asshole so it kind of forms into Billy wanting to punch the fuckers lights out and then transforms into him wanting to fuck Harrington again.

Once they make their way to the gym, the coach divides them up in teams. He gets picked first and subsequently Steve, to the other team. Which is gonna be fun. Gives Billy the excuse to crowd Steve on the court, get a bit of a feel without it being looked at sideways. Coach points to Billy’s team and announces, “Skins.”

Harrington’s eyes lock with his and he smirks, grabbing the hem of his grey Hawkins High gym shirt and pulls it over his head. He registers the way Harrington’s eyes fall to his chest as he chucks the shirt to the bench. God, it’s so obvious to him. And thanks? Steve wants more and Billy does too.

He wipes the court with the shirts, he’s competitive by nature and well, Steve’s his best competitor. He plays defense, crowds right against Steve’s back and the similarities of now and last night don’t fall short on him. Billy’s close to supporting a half chubbed cock right now. Especially the way Steve elbows him in the peck. Can’t help that his tits are sensitive. He grins, licks his lower lip and has to hold back from leaning forward and licking Steve’s cheek like he did the night before. He wants to consume Harrington in such an overwhelming way. But there’s unspoken rules to this shit.

They’d be lynched right here in this court if Billy did was he really wanted to do. His father would have a field day with the beating if he knew the thoughts he was thinking as he’s pressed against Steve. All he can do is steal the ball, dribble up the court and god damnit, try to impress Steve with this trick shot. He’s stunned himself he makes it and he turns, grinning wide as he looks to see Harrington bent over and panting, staring back at him.

“Steve?” Wheeler’s at the door of the gym and Billy’s blood boils at the way Harrington immediately follows her out.

What the hell does that Bitch want? Billy wishes he could follow the pair. Tell her what they’d done and that Steve didn’t need her anymore. But fuck, he’s got a game to play and who does he think he is? Steve’s boyfriend? Pathetic. Billy’s chasing after the ball before he can think to deeply about it.

Showers. Typically kind of a tough time for Billy because he digs looking at dicks, but he can’t. Still, he always feels eyes on his body in the showers and no one gets called out but he’s beyond worried he’ll get called out. And yeah, he’d heard the whispers about Harrington’s dick so it’s not a secret that the team is looking at each other. Harrington’s dick is kind of like an anomaly though. Like it’s okay to notice and talk about because of it’s size. But unlike the other dudes in this locker room, Billy’s had it in his mouth. Then again, he’s not sure anyone else here wants it in their mouth besides Tommy, though the guy won’t admit it. Billy can tell by the way he talks about him. Built Steve up like he was a literal King and not like the metaphorical one he is. Then, he saw Steve and well, he understood.

He watches Tommy’s eyes, they fall to his cock and then to Harrington’s. There’s a look on his face Billy can’t exactly place, perhaps jealously or something more… gay? He hasn’t quite fingered Tommy yet. They’ve just met. And honestly when he made the move on Steve, he was taking a huge risk that he ended with an even better payout. Tommy’s eyes fall to his own junk and well, he’s probably comparing. He did offer Carol up to Billy the second the three of them were alone but Billy shrugged it off like a joke.

“Good practice,” Billy lamely offers, snatching Steve’s soap from the shelf. There’s a hint of a smile from Steve when he does it. Which is a win, probably.

“Yeah, that trick shot was fucking killer,” Tommy praises, teeth shining. And yeah, Billy thinks he’s cute but his eyes are drawn back to Harrington.

“Thanks,” Billy offers, soaping his dick up before he puts the bar back. Steve snatches it quick and then soaps his own dick up. It’s an offering, of some kind. He’s eager to have their teammates vanish. Wants to be alone with Harrington and quick.

The two of them linger a little too long, hopeful they’re not being obvious. Coach left long ago, they shower quietly until the chatter in the locker room disappears. Fingertips and toes gone pruny. And then Billy makes his move, steps into the stream of Steve’s shower and their eyes meet.

“What did your girlfriend want?” Billy asks, ignoring the way his cocks filling out by the close proximity of Steve’s cock.

Steve swallow hard, averts his eyes but answers, “She wanted to know why I didn’t pick her up this morning.”

“Why didn’t you?” Billy wonders, blinking slowly at Steve.

“She dumped me,” he huffs with disdain.

“And the thanks? What was that for?”

“Last night… I… it helped me take my mind off her,” Steve mumbles, eyes dropping.

Billy grins, licks against his teeth as he hooks his fingers under Steve’s chin, pulls the boys face toward his own, “Told you I would make you feel better than she could.”

“But—“ Steve swallows, “You just left and I…”

“What? Wanted cuddles?” Billy laughs, “it was fun. And that’s what it will be. If we ya know, keep doing it. I’m not a chick and either are you, last time I checked.”

He looks down, seeing Harrington’s cock is also standing like his. “I don’t do feelings, Harrington. And maybe you shouldn’t either. Since you’re such a bitch for some average looking tail.”

“I love her,” Steve argues, eyebrows knitting in a way that has Billy jealous beyond belief.

Billy frown, full of condescension when he says, “And where the hell did that get you?”

Steve looks a little taken aback. Like Billy said something wise and not something basked in bitterness.

“We can make each other feel good. Why would we fuck it up with feelings?” Billy asks, looking up at Steve under thick lashes.

“Yeah,” Harrington breathes out and Billy’s reaching down to grab his cock. The brunette elicits the sweetest, softest yelp and Billy can’t help but break a rule he’s set for himself, crashing his lips into Harrington’s.

Because Billy loves kissing. Likes it filthy and sloppy. Makes his head swim when they lick against each other’s tongues between heady moans. Sex is sex. They’re here for a means, regardless of sexuality, they both just wanna get off. Because fuck, his heads going empty ‘cause he can feel Harrington’s cock twitch in his hand and there’s a shared desperation here when their eyes meet again. If Billy can offer a distraction from Wheeler, he’ll take it. Anything to get Steve Harrington making these sweet sounds and bucking into his fist.

“Be quiet,” Billy warns before he’s stepping closer to press his cock against Steve’s, adjusting his hand so he’s got them both in his grip, “You don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

Steve shakes his head, reaching his hands up to grab Billy’s shoulders. Billy catches Steve’s lower lip in his teeth while he jerks them off in his hand. It’s a desperate yet lazy kiss. Steve keeps whimpering into it and Billy’s a bit lovestruck. And Christ, he loves the way their cocks slide together easily, precum drooling from their tips. It’s all slippery and so good and Billy can’t stop licking every crevice of Steve’s mouth as they thrust into his fist. It’s so delicious, so filthy. It’s… slippery from the shower. His minds hazy enough to tell Harrington, “Holy shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

And he’s whiny when he says it, desperation dripping off his words because truly, he means it. Harrington looks like a god damn dream, glassy brown eyes and fuck, his lips parted and so pink. Looking at Billy likes he’s a veteran porn star, and he could be with the heat he’s packing and that look on his face. He’s begging for it, just with his eyes. And Billy wants nothing more than to give it to him.

Billy wants to die for Harrington. It’s a sick thought he can’t let himself dwell on. Daddy up and moved them for a reason. Another boy with floppy chestnut hair and sad eyes.

“Fucking hate you,” Billy mumbles, not sure if it’s meant towards Steve or the memory. He squeezes their cocks when he says it though. ‘Cause he does hate him and he does hate the way he aches for this. Hates the way his heads all wrong and hates how he needs to act on it.

Steve kisses him then, bruising like it’s punishment for telling Steve he hates him. Or a test? Billy can’t let the kiss go further, it’s too delicious and dangerous. So he pushes Steve back and spits on his parted lips. An assault, but he’s stunned when Steve’s tongue darts out to gather the saliva and bucks his hips up at Billy’s fist. The slide of their cocks is incredible and it’s so good that heat is pooling in his stomach rapidly, so he closes his eyes tight and bares his teeth because if he looks down at their cocks or up at Harrington’s face he’s gonna blow his load.

And then Harrington’s making this pathetic fucking sound and it’s even more wet and Billy has to open his eyes, has to look down and sees Harrington’s spilled and it’s all over his fist and the tip of his cock and Billy grunts, body heaving as he shoots his spunk next. He rests his head on Harrington’s shoulder for a beat. Then he rinses himself off and reaches for his towel. He wraps it around his waist and he’s about to walk off.

The softest words from Harrington have him turning around and asking, “Huh?”

Big, downturned brown eyes look to him and Steve says louder, “I fucking hate you, too.”

It warms Billy’s chest for some god awful reason, so he smiles, maybe even blushes a little, “Hate you more, King Steve.”

Wishes he could stick around longer, but Max has got to be out waiting by his Camaro by now. He doesn’t wanna risk coming home too late. And he’ll see Harrington tomorrow. Looks forward to it.

#billy x steve #harringrove smut #harringrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #steve harrington x billy hargrove #harringrove ficlet #harringrove fanfiction #lemon

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masterchef901 · 9 months

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Some rampant Freckle theorizing (Idk how confirmed this is but we roll it (lackadaisy spoilers))

I was thinking about Freckle and the theory/general idea that he killed or hurt his dad and Rocky took the blame for it, and the more I think about it the more it explains a ton of Freckle's character.

Like, we'd have the obvious and immediate: he follows Rocky and does whatever he asks without question, because Freckle feels like he owes him a debt, one worth killing for. Not to mention, we have some more rationale behind Freckle's habit of trying to fix things when stressed, and his original intentions of becoming a cop, both of which may represent a sort of penance in his mind. Try to make things better to make up for how he made them worse. Get dangerous criminals off the street, to make up for the fact that he feels he is one.

But then we get a bit more in the details of things:

"Remember to always lie" lands a lot heavier in this paradigm, doesn't it?

But the way the other letters are framed right there with him make me think they're a part of the trauma too. That make me think that every single one of these weighs on him, makes him think: "Rocky's struggling out there because of me"

"He's suffering because I lied"

"I'm doing this to him"

"I ruined his life too"

and yet, at the same time,

"If I tell anyone then Rocky suffered for nothing"

And that would absolutely eat at someone. Eat at them enough that a particularly inflammatory letter would leave them curled up and broken in their room marinating amongst years of other accumulated pain.

And bearing this view of his past in mind, I speculate a bit on his defining trait in the present:

The oft-accepted explanation is that he's just a "natural killer", or that these acts of violence are in some way a release of other, possibly unrelated pent-up stress and anxiety. But bear with me a moment, and consider another angle:

You're a murderer. You've spent years lying about it. You threw your cousin under the bus. You lied to your mother. You're a murderer and you can never forget it. You always lie. You have to remember to always lie about being a murderer.

And then you kill someone again.

And this time it's in front of plenty of witnesses, it's to protect someone and most importantly: it isn't a secret to these people.

I posit that in this moment, Calvin "Freckle" McMurray is feeling honest with himself for the first time in years. He has internalized the feeling that he's a murderer, and now he gets to wear that, and be "himself", for what he feels that is, and he doesn't have to hide. He doesn't have to hide that he's a murderer anymore. In the most fucked-up possible way, Freckle is owning who he is. Maybe it's a stretch, but I think what we're seeing is the euphoria of relief, from a particularly twisted confession.

The next time we see him actually shooting again...

There's still some of that derangement, but it also seems to me that Rocky's doing most of the laughing. And maybe it's the involuntary mud-bath he takes after this panel, but...

That mania sure faded quick this time. Even though he's digging for it, trying to find it, the euphoria just isn't coming the way it did just a couple canonical days ago, and I think it's because there's nothing more to get from it.

The killing confession's been given, and there's no more relief to be found in trying to let himself be a killer. Now it's just... more bloodshed.

At this point, we've caught up pretty much completely to our protagonists in the story. From here, we move from the 'bear with me but' kind of speculation to just totally rampant guesswork. But what could this mean for our adorable gunman's future?

Well for starters, I think we'll see his work quality start to take a dip once he realizes he doesn't actually love it.

And for seconds, it means that he's probably not done riding the guilt train either. If anything, he might start working out his confusion, realizing just how fucked everything in his life is. Might even begin to resent Rocky for it.

And perhaps most interestingly in my mind is how this poor kid's emotional state is going to interact with his relationship with Ivy. After all, I feel like the very nature of the relationship is still settling, and we don't really have a clear view of how invested its members are in it. Maybe Ivy's just in it for some fun and Freckle's along for the ride and eventually the ride'll end and that'll be that. But, uh, something about the laws that govern narrative existence makes me think that this will perhaps not be the case.

Because suppose that Freckle starts feeling it more deeply. He might easily see his first true confidant in Ivy - someone who he owes no debt, who he's under no obligation to lie to, and who seems both aware of and okay with his homicidal tendencies. He could really come to lean on her a lot as he develops and navigates his trauma. And this leads to some outcomes:

If Ivy's willing to reciprocate that trust and vulnerability, we get treated to some absolutely delectable hurt-comfort.

If she isn't, she might back off, even sever things entirely as she's not used to dealing with this kind of baggage in a partner. Depending on how in-love Freckle's feeling at this point in this timeline, the sudden pain and isolation on top of his freshly re-opened trauma might be enough to send him into a complete mental break in the worst case.

And either way, and no matter which way anything goes, we get some absolutely killer drama.

#lackadaisy spoilers #theory #lackadaisy #the cats #i cannot stop thinking about the cats #lackadaisy theory #lackadaisy freckle #freckle #character analysis #but that analysis is all predicated on a theory that is unconfirmed #spoilers

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anxious-lee · 4 months

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A Sudden Diversion - A Lackadaisy Tickle Fic

Lee: Freckle

Lers: Ivy and Rocky

----

Evidently, plowing an automobile through several thickets and insisting it is a "short-cut" is dangerous.

This may have been a revelation to Rocky, but Freckle could have told him that from the beginning. In fact, he tried.

Yet, here they were: in the Lackadaisy's cluttered garage, mending the battering inflicted on their poor vehicle. The car was nicked and scratched from the shrubbery, not unlike its occupants. The engine compartment would have been just fine had the frenzied tom Rocky not rammed it into a tree's trunk. All in all, the damages were unnecessary and very expensive. To say that Miss Mitzi was peeved at the three stooges would be an understatement. Due to the speakeasy's lack of adequate funds, the car's repairs would need to be done by Rocky, Ivy, and Freckle, as reparations for ruining the car in the first place. Freckle supposed that being placed on mechanic duty wasn't the worst punishment Miss Mitzi could have dealt. Although, if anyone should have to be saddled with this chore, it should be Rocky. He's the one who made the mess in the first place.

But, perhaps it was for the best. It was safer in the garage than it was out there on the liquor-lined battlefield.

All three colleagues sat, working away silently. Or rather, almost silently, as Rocky could only take the deafening quiet for so long before he broke out into a hum. Some tune that neither Freckle nor Ives recognized. The musician himself was made useful by patching up the old paint job, while the two lovers dug through their toolbox, looking for the appropriate equipment to repair the engine.

Freckle had seen plenty of danger in his lifetime with his cousin. Hell, toughing through peril was practically his best trait as an officer in training. But each adventure wore down a little bit more of his psyche. And some nights, like tonight, there was nothing left to wear.

He was exhausted, both from the team's little excursion and the mental power it took not to have a panic attack.

Ivy, who sat at his right, learned over time to recognize these feelings through observation. Because odds were, Freckle wouldn't say it directly. She could pretty much discern and dissect every Freckle frown.

She was gonna make him smile.

She began with a little smirk of her own.

"Car maintenance isn't the peachiest job in the world, but at least we get some quality time together," Ivy said, batting her eyelids.

Brought out of his daze by the sudden sound of her voice, Freckle glanced up at Ivy quickly. He couldn't help but smile sheepishly at her flirtatious remarks.

But Ivy wasn't going to stop there.

"Y'know, I hardly ever get to witness you in your element. Tinkering away with your gadgets, and gizmos, and... whosiwhatsits, " she finished with a flippant backhand toward the toolbox.

Freckle seemed bashful to turn bashful at that.

"Oh. I'm no professional. My mum taught me everything I know, and when it became just me and her in that house, I had to step in and help with the maintenance. If I'm being honest, I'm more familiar with the back-end of a kitchen sink than I am with motor vehicle repair," he cringed.

"Relentlessly humble, as always," Rocky piped in suddenly, "Ol' Freckle Face never could take a compliment, however deserved or warranted."

"Yeah! C'mon McMurray, you're doing most of the heavy lifting here! Little did Miss M. know that when she hired a gunman, she also hired a handyman," said Ivy.

The extra attention was getting to Freckle, so much so that he hadn't noticed when his cheeks began to burn hot.

"It's really not a big deal-"

"I'll say it is, and no take-backsies!" Ivy declared. For emphasis, she burrowed a single claw into his armpit.

Freckle tittered softly and tilted his body away from his attacker.

"Kheehehe, quit it," he near-whispered.

"What will you do if I dont?" Ivy dared playfully.

What to answer with, Freckle hadn't the faintest. His upturned mouth opened and shut a few times, hoping that the perfect reasoning would spring from his lips at any moment. Finally, he spoke.

"We're not gohonna finish our wohork," he retorted lamely.

"Oh yeah? Is that what it is you're scared of? The job?" purred Ivy. She once again buried her pointer claw into the crook of his underarm. It took some more digging than the first time due to Freckle's attempts to keep his arm flat against his side. When she settled into her target, she scritched everywhere she could reach.

"Yehes!" Freckle said, much louder and desperate than he intended. He was squirming a little more now, bent in a seventy-degree angle, but still holding down his position. The first giggle, he couldn't control. The second, third, and fourth, however, he was determined to swallow down. His lips pressed into a wobbly smile, hoping that if he didn't laugh, she wouldn't continue.

That only made her tickle harder.

"You trying to hold it in? Good luck, 'cause my little brothers tried the same trick, and it did not last long," warned Ivy.

And it was true. Before long, his firmly shut lips did nothing to prevent his giggles from escaping. They sounded more like pleaful whimpers.

It wasn't that Freckle hated her little games, but succumbing to something so childish as tickling was easier said than done. Not to mention the fact that they were in public, where any one of the speakeasy's employees could walk in on them.

Within a matter of seconds, Ivy brought both claws into both armpits and was tickling away.

Freckle gave a laugh of surprise, a notch louder than before. He knew there was no fighting her now. The tingly electricity on both sides of his body overtook him, and he slid to the floor, with his back pressed against it. Ivy followed, now hooked by his incredible laughter.

"You crazy kids ought to keep your hands off of each other. Otherwise, people might get the idea that you two are les amoureux," Rocky called from his place at the car, voice shining with sarcasm. He was watching them now and smirking unsympathetically at his troubled cousin.

"We are les amoureux, Rocky," Ivy called back.

For some reason, Ivy holding a conversation with Rocky while Freckle was underneath her laughing pitifully was making the sensation worse. As his face burned brighter, Freckle turned his head away from her in an attempt to save himself the embarrassment of having her look upon his cheesy face.

"Awh~! Poor boy is embarrassed!" Ivy cooed, taking one hand away from his arm and cupping his cheek with it, pulling his face back to her.

"You are practically burning up!" she gasped, "Are you blushing~?"

The saints above could not help poor Freckle now.

He didn't grace that question with an answer and instead whined through his laughter. This could not get more humiliating.

"I missed that big smile! And that laugh. I love it when you laugh. It's so cute!" the feisty woman squealed.

"Nohoho, it's nohohot!" Freckle squealed louder. His paws, which had been tucked in like T-Rex arms to his chest, were now covering everywhere on his face he could reach.

"It's a shame that me admiring you flusters you so terribly, because I'm not going to stop any time soon. You're all mine to adore, Calvin McMurray~"

Holy hell.

The teasing's subject cried out in ticklish agony and released a new wave of laughter.

"This would be easier if- you know- I'll think I'll just- there we go!" Ivy maneuvered herself to sit behind Freckle's head while she pinned his hands under her knees. Now he was on full display, with no hope of saving his dignity.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle~" she teased as both hands came back down to lightly skitter over and across his belly. Freckle laughed uproariously, unable to hold anything back, his pure-hearted cackle ringing out throughout the garage.

It was almost more than he could bear.

Almost.

"DOHOHONT SAHAY THAT!"

"Why not?"

"IT MAHAKES IT WOHORSE!"

"Ah, good tip! Definitely will be making use out of this. Kitchee kitchee kitchee kitchee coo~!"

Ivy moved her paws towards his hips, squeezing them faster than was merciful.

Freckle's laugh deepened in pitch immediately, sounding more like a maniacal cackle.

"Pretty good targets, Miss Pepper, but you're neglecting some key players in this game of torture!" said Rocky.

"It's not torture! He's fine! Aren't you, sweetie?"

Freckle almost said no, but he was too busy laughing. Laughing from an attack he let happen. If he really detested it, he could have ended this from the beginning, and he knew that. But there was no real danger here. Not with Ivy. Not with Rocky, either. He knew they would never hurt him.

Nevertheless, when one is being pinned down and tickled stupid, the only thought your mind will allow is 'STOP'.

Rocky strode over to Ivy's side and looked down at his cousin.

"Me and Freckle used to get into many a battle such as these when we were little tykes. I triumphed them all, naturally, and I still remember his spots," the tomcat gave Ivy a wink and planted himself on Freckle's legs. "You go for the neck, I'll go for the knees."

"ROHOCKY!!" cried Freckle, betrayed.

"Ooo! Those are good ones!" cheered Ivy.

"ISN'T AHANYONE GOING TO WOHORK ON THE CAHAHAR?!"

"No", they both replied.

They began their double team attack on Freckle's tickle spots. Ivy went to work fluttering in every crevice of his neck, while Rocky rubbed and squeezed his kneecaps, occasionally giving a swift scribble to the undersides.

Freckle couldn't believe how absurd this scenario was. Here he was, now shrieking and giggling shrilly like a small child, while his two closest teammates were tickling him to pieces. He didn't bother to question it any more, simply surrendering to his silly fate and taking the opportunity to let everything go. He had been harboring so much guilt and anxiety over the past few days. Over the past few weeks even. What better time to abandon all sensible thought, what better time to look away from his reality of crime and war, what better time to simply be with his friends, safe and at peace, then now?

But he still needed to breathe, so Ivy let up and released his hands from her hold. Rocky dismounted from his legs and backed away cheerily to give the man some space.

Freckle immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and tucked his legs into himself, tail swishing wildly as he let out his remaining chuckles. As he caught his breath, he looked up at Ivy.

Ivy's expression was kind. "You feeling ok?"

Freckle couldn't stop grinning, and it wasn't from the tickles.

"Y-yeah," he sighed in relief.

"Yes, good man, laughing yourself up a storm, now come on, let's take a break from the car and head to the bar downstairs!" said Rocky.

"You mean after the break we just took from our work?" Ivy smirked.

"I don't know about you two, but all this horseplay has worked up my thirst. Whadd'ya say, Baby Face? Want to grab a beer?" Rocky reached a hand down to help him up.

Freckle was repulsed by the idea of drinking alcohol himself, but Rocky knew that as well, using it as a conversational turn of phrase.

The orange cat softened in agreement.

"Sure."

Rock wasted no time in trotting out the door, hungry for an ice cold scotch.

The two stragglers, now alone, slowly followed behind. As they walked, Ivy stretched an experimental pinkie out to Freckle's. He wasted no time in linking his paw with hers and pulling her to his side.

Not the worst of punishments, indeed.

-------

You know what, I eventually got hungry enough for lackadaisy fic that I wrote one myself. I haven't completed a fic in well over a year, but this franchise is beyond inspiring enough to birth this fic ❤️

@veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @kasey-writes-stuff @ticklyfluffstuff

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #lee talks #tickle fic #lackadaisy tickles #lee!freckle #ler!ivy #ler!rocky

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deaddee-anime-brownfanlady · 1 year

Text

Having read and reread the Lackadaisy comic more then once and looking through the Wiki on the different events. Mostly on Rocky and the familial tensions surrounding the McMurray household and why Rocky got the boot?

So the year 1921 was a big event of change. In which Rocky was kicked out at 16-years-old and within that same year Freckle dad died. It leaves me to wonder was this one of the " Family Tragedies " that Rocky mentioned in the chapter ' Breakdown ' I know that he was mostly delirious talking about his mom Sophie who was severely sick at the time and how his father was "working on the railroad~" most of the time which explains why Rocky spent a good half of his childhood at the McMurray house and was raised along side Freckle. But reading the lines and seeing some of the interactions between Rocky & Freckle, there's obvious some underlying issues and unresolved problems between the two cousins. Whatever happened between the two that Rocky took the blame for.

Closely looking through the many letters Rocky sent Freckle during his time on his own and going through different jobs after another, one of them that stands out specifically. Is Rocky asking for the whereabouts of his father, bits of it mentioning his dad haven't written back to him in awhile. ( Seriously need to know more about Rocky Pop's Ransom) In the present timeline of the comic it apparent that his mom passed away. But what about dear Ol Dad, is he also dead? Or did the man just took off after the death of his wife and left his son behind in the progress because he didn't want to deal with Rocky eccentricities. I know the series is still on hatius, but so far Rocky dad sounds like a major dick.

Of the many letters that Rocky has to sent Freckle before he ended up back in St. Louis again has a few words within it that is missing. One of them seems to mention a "Birthday" perhaps wishing Freckle a happy birthday but also one of the words from the letter that stands out to me is the " Your Fault " line the most. I got a feeling this could be connected to whatsoever went down between Freckle and Rocky that lead to Rocky getting kicked out in the first place. From the bits of missing words in the letter it sounds like Rocky is either telling Freckle that " it isn't all your fault anyway " or he's telling him that its " All your fault anyway ". It's hard to tell what Rocky might have actual meant in his 1923 letter, but from what I gather at it is that maybe he was wishing Freckle a good birthday and went a bit on some sort of one-off small tangent about whose really at fault for what take place at the McMurray house and what lead up to Aunt Nina finally having enough of Rocky and kicking him out of her home and her likely thinking he's a bad influence on her sweet boy and not wanting him around Freckle any longer especially when it came to his schooling.

I swear the more you look more in-depth when it comes to Rocky and aspects of his past, including him basically having been on his own since he was sixteen and been hopping from one odd job to the next as well as going from one place to another until he ends up back in St. Louis again later on is pretty real sad when you think about it. I feel like its very much deeply explains why Rocky tries so freaking hard at the Lackadaisy speakeasy when it comes to him taking on the bootlegging side of things of the business and wanting to prove himself useful to Mitzi and all. After everything he's been through thus far it makes sense.

Also the still up in the air question mark of whatever mess that happened in 1921 besides Freckle loss of his father, or when it comes to his mom illness that Rocky blames himself for and took the fall for something that happened in place of Freckle.

Whatever might happens in the next future chapters of Lackadaisy especially on the familial tensions that still lingers with Rocky and his relationship between both his cousin and his Auntie, which leaves me to wonders is how long will it take for Aunt Nina to eventually sense and finds out what her son and her 0ff-beat goofball of a nephew is truly doing for a " Job ."

How long before things between these rum-running cousin danger duo goes south? Especially when it come to Rocky on his part because I feel things for him might slowly take a turn for the worse again unfortunately.

#Rocky Rickaby #lackadaisy #calvin freckle mcmurray #lackadaisy cats #Comic related #comic series #indie animation #webcomics #lackadaisy meta #lackadaisy spoilers #lackadaisy comic #meta analysis #youtube animation

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pomegranate-pen · 1 year

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Hi! First, love you your blog! Second, I feel you! I've been waiting for Lackadaisy's plot for awhile for an AU thing I'm working on. It's a long story. Thirdly, can I request headcanons for Rocky Rickaby dating a male owl s/o, please? It's cool, if not!

A/n: hello! here ya go!! this was quite fun to write, I couldn't write much though, since most things have been said in the general headcanons that I made with him, but I tried to write as much as I can for this one! I tried making it reader-centered even though my mind kept reverting back to Stolas every now and then lmao.

Rocky Rickaby x male!owl!reader headcanons!

In a city full of mostly cats of different breeds, though it is not out of the ordinary for there to be people of different animal races, such as the weasel working for Marigold, seeing them is still quite a shocker for many.

That is probably why Rocky couldn’t stop staring at you the first time he saw you. the sheer amount of admiration that was illuminating from his expression was uncanny. It was like a child found his favorite comic book hero at the local mall, you for a moment wondered if he had mistaken you for another much more famous owl he might be a fan of.

Knowing Rocky, he’d most likely try to tease you at first, slowly sliding into flirting territory after a few jabs here and there. he’d compliment your eyes, write a poem or two about the elegance you have, and would try anything he can to impress you.

if you were to date him, there wouldn’t be much of a difference in the relationship he would have with you than he would have with anyone else. Though, he might get flustered much easier around you, especially since you’re most likely much taller than him. Even if not, he still gets flustered easily, since he thinks you’re too beautiful to compare, and the idea of having someone so pretty flirt with him feels unbelievable.

He can and will try to stay awake with you during the entire night, even though he has work again in the morning. He’ll spend as much time with you as he can and if you do not stop him then you’ll see an out-of-his-mind Rocky that you must keep an eye on the entire time or he will nail pieces of meat on the wall.

"Rocky?...why- what are you doing to the walls?...."

Rocky's eyes were pupiled as he tried to swing the hammer and misses the nail. "THEY, are coming. we must prepare."

If you coax him enough to go to bed, you’ll be met with a pouty Rocky who begrudgingly says ‘alright’ as he lays down. He’ll try to stay awake as much as he can even at that moment, trying to make small conversations with you and ignoring the yawns that are slipping from him. If you cuddle with him at some point, he will finally close his eyes and fall into a blissful sleep with a tight grip on you.

Unfortunately, though, you may find yourself waking up every now and then during your morning sleep. He tries his best to be discreet when making breakfast in bed for you, but the daily smell of burning toast is now your alarm clock.

Can and does gloat about having the most magnificent boyfriend. If he’s not excitedly telling Zib what gift he’s made for you for when you wake up he’s acting as if he’s a professional at love and trying to give Freckle dating advice.

May probably ask strange questions, such as if a feather of yours can be used as a pen if gives a bit of ink, or if you eat vermin just like your non-anthropomorphic counterparts. He’s genuinely curious, even though he’s seen many different animals during his time going from one odd job to another, he’s only taken glances at them and never had the chance to speak to one.

Loves hugging you on cold days, especially blizzard ones when he has to stay home with you. the amount of warmth your body gives him makes him feel giddy.

If anyone were to insult you or your appearance, then the next day they’ll find their house either destroyed or burned, and if asked Rocky, he’ll just shake it off and say justice has been served, and who are we to question that?

#lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy #rocky rickaby x reader #rocky x reader #rocky rickaby #lackadaisy rocky x reader #x reader #reader insert #headcanons #fanfiction #owl anon

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stevethehairington · 1 year

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✨ Mack's Stranger Things Fic List ✨

✨ Most Recent Work:

for all the pretty mouths and pretty words | 5.4k | steddie

Eddie snags both drinks with a thanks to the bartender and turns to head back towards Steve. Things have been going well, things have been going really well — not even that rocky start could put a wrench into things, and the note they left off on before Eddie slipped away was promising. Eddie is eager to see where the rest of the night will take them. He has high hopes.

But, as Eddie is intimately familiar with, highs are not meant to last, and hopes are easy to lose.

Things, meet wrench.

He makes it three steps when his stride stutters because — oh. That’s. That’s Steve, with a girl. A pretty girl. With short, sandy brown hair and freckles. It’s the same pretty girl Eddie had seen with him earlier. The one he’d thought, for a second, might be Steve’s girlfriend. He’d let himself hope she wasn’t, when he first approached, and let himself start to actually believe it when he’d tried his hand at flirting and Steve had flirted back.

But now...

Now Eddie’s not so sure.

Or, the one where Steve puts his foot in his pretty mouth and Eddie pays the price. Featuring: cherry stems, half smoked cigarettes, and the world's biggest misunderstanding.

✨ Completed Works (below the cut):

the privilege of being yours | 3.1k | steddie

“What do you think?” Eddie asks, grinning.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve laughs, already reaching for Eddie’s ankle. He curls his fingers around it and gives it a tug, beckoning Eddie closer. “They’re perfect, you’re perfect. I love them,” he adds, as Eddie scooches into his space.

Steve cups both of his hands to Eddie’s face and kisses him right on the center of his mouth. “I can’t wait to marry you,” he says.

The kiss turns into something else as Eddie’s lips split against Steve’s, and he murmurs back against them, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

When they break apart, Steve taps Eddie’s knee. “Okay, where’s the rest of your sense of tradition? I showed you mine, you show me yours now.”

“Oh, I’ll show you tradition alright,” Eddie responds, and he reaches for his left sleeve.

Or, the one where Steve and Eddie share a rooftop, beloved traditions, and so much love.

✨

hold your breath and just dive right in | 4.5k | steddie

“Come on, man, what are you waiting for?” Steve calls, several feet out from the shore where he’s treading water with a perfect, practiced ease. Fucking show off. “An invitation?”

“Ha ha,” Eddie shouts back, deadpan. He makes no movement towards the water, though. Just digs his toes into the sand and wiggles them, watching the tiny grains spill into the spaces between and swallow his feet.

He glances up to stare out at the lake, and his stomach roils uneasily at its vastness. The other end is visible from where he stands, but it still seems so far away. They’re nowhere near the middle either, and even Steve isn’t that far out. It still makes Eddie nervous.

The funny thing is, it isn’t even his recent experiences with Lover’s Lake that’s putting this horrible feeling in his gut. Well, okay, maybe it is a little bit. But mostly, it’s because Eddie already didn’t like the water before that. He’s never been a fan.

Because Eddie Munson does not know how to swim.

Or, the one where Eddie Munson does not know how to swim, and Steve Harrington is nothing if not the perfect teacher.

✨

keep me on a rope | 6.6k | steddie, unrequited stommy

Tommy wipes his palms against the side of his jeans and squeezes through the crowd, never once taking his eyes off of Steve as he makes a beeline right for him.

He’s a couple feet away, gearing up to call out his greeting when someone else beats him to it and sidles up to Steve. They touch Steve, putting their palm low on his waist, half tucked up under his blazer. It’s an intimate touch, an almost possessive one in a very casual sort of way.

Tommy freezes in his tracks.

Steve perks up in the presence of his new company, back straightening and body turning into theirs — receptive, familiar.

He tilts his head, just enough that Tommy can see the smile gracing his lips, the softness in his eyes, and the other person dips their own chin, leaning in to whisper something into Steve’s ear. Their curtain of hair sways forward, brushing against Steve’s collar, and Steve reaches up to tuck it behind their ear, giving Tommy a clear view of—

Of Eddie Munson.

Or, Tommy Hagan attends his ten year high school reunion hoping for one thing, and leaves with something else entirely.

✨

trippin stumbling flippin fumbling | 5k | steddie

“Don’t be such a coward,” Eddie tells himself. “Fucking— go.”

His body doesn’t move. Not even an inch. His ass stays glued to his seat, his feet firmly planted on the floor. His hands don’t leave ten and two.

“God dammit,” Eddie groans, dropping his forehead down to the wheel.

Except — he underestimates the distance, and rather than pressing into the top of the wheel between his hands, his forehead smacks squarely into the center of the horn.

He jerks back so fast he gives himself whiplash, but the damage is done. There is no taking back the short, sharp, loud honk that emits from the bowels of his traitorous van.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit,” Eddie hisses, eyes going wider than the moon hanging in the sky tonight.

He immediately slouches in his seat, sinking down as low as he can go. But it’s too late. He’s caught Steve and Robin’s attention now, and despite parking off to the side and a little further back, his set of wheels is unmistakable.

They’ve seen him. He can’t leave now. He has no choice but to go inside.

✨

when i turn out the lights | 1.8k | stommy

Steve tells everyone who asks him hat his first kiss was Sheila Anderson when he was fifteen years old.

But, really, that's not true.

It was Tommy Hagan. When he was fourteen.

Or, the one that tells the real story of Steve Harrington's first kiss.

✨

love grows (where my rosemary goes) | 3.2k | steddie

“Do you know you have, like, a trillion freckles on your face?” Steve asks right back, leaning in. His left hand winds itself around the strap of Eddie’s overalls, pulling him in too, and the right one catches Eddie’s jaw. It’s cold from his own lemonade glass, abandoned somewhere by his feet, and his thumb sweeps over the bridge of Eddie’s nose, the apples of his cheeks. Doubles back to tap the single freckle that sits right on the tip.

It’s true — Eddie does have freckles. Maybe not a trillion, but when the sun peeks out from behind the clouds like today and becomes a more permanent resident in the sky, those pesky little polka dots like to make their appearance, painting his face in faint faint dusting. They’re not obvious or anything; nobody really notices them unless they’re looking for them.

But that’s the thing about Steve. He’s always looking. Always seeing.

It’s why Eddie loves him so much.

It’s why — oh. He loves him.

✨

the strength to let it show | 3.2k | steddie

Steve keeps his voice quiet enough as he sings now, not wanting to disturb the masses just one room over, but it’s still loud enough for him to get a little lost in it. He matches the strokes of his sponge with the tune he’s singing and even starts to wiggle his hips along. It’s hard not to want to dance to this one — Bennie and the Jets, because it came on the radio in the car while he was making his rounds to pick up the kids, and it’s been stuck in his head ever since.

Most of the dishes are clean now, so all that’s left is the silverware. The casserole dish was the last of the major pieces. Steve’s just finishing rinsing it, letting the excess water sluice off the sides before he sets it on the kitchen island with the other plates waiting to be dried.

In the process of turning, two things happen at once:

1. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back as he belts out the chorus, “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine, oh. B-b-b-bennie and the jets!”

2. His eyes fly back open to land right on Eddie. where he stands in the doorway — no, leans in the doorway, like he’s been there a while, like he’s gotten comfortable.

So, the thing is, Steve likes Eddie.

As in, he kind of wants to date him. And to kiss him. And to be his boyfriend.

But, he also doesn’t want to tell him that. Not in so many words, anyways. Those have never been Steve’s strong suit, words. He always messes them up. Never picks the right ones, always ends up sticking his foot in his mouth. The thought of sitting Eddie down and making some big… confession is mildly (extraordinarily) terrifying. Big speeches and grand declarations usually are — don’t let the romcoms and the chick flicks fool you. They’re never as easy as they look.

He doesn’t not want to tell Eddie, though, either. So it’s… well, it’s a tricky situation.

Until Robin, brilliant brainy genius Robin, suggests that instead of telling him, he should just show him instead. That way Steve can avoid the dramatic deliverances and still get his point across, just in a way that’s comfortable for him. On his own time. At his own pace. He can gradually show his hand, can drop hint after hint until Eddie gets it (and Robin is confident that he will in no time at all).

So Steve does.

✨

shake it loose together | 6.3k | steddie

In the process of turning, two things happen at once:

1. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and tips his head back as he belts out the chorus, “She’s got electric boots, a mohair suit, you know I read it in a magazine, oh. B-b-b-bennie and the jets!”

2. His eyes fly back open to land right on Eddie. where he stands in the doorway — no, leans in the doorway, like he’s been there a while, like he’s gotten comfortable.

✨

to my heart i must be true | 14.4k | steddie

Robin starts to smile, this big, evil grin that unfurls slowly across her face, and oh. Oh no. That’s not good. That’s never good. That always means trouble.

Robin sticks her hands on her hips and juts her chin out at Steve. “I bet I can get a Valentine’s date before you can,” she says, all arrogance.

Dustin and Lucas oooh at her fighting words, then turn to Steve for his rebuttal.

“Robin, Robin, are you sure you want to do that?” He asks, standing to his full height. His shoulders roll back, and he feels the patented Harrington Charm flooding back through his body like a switch has been flipped.

“Absolutely certain,” Robin replies, not backing down. She holds out her hand.

Steve shakes his head at her, then lets an easy, confident smile curl his mouth. “You’re gonna regret that,” he says, then smacks his palm into hers, “but you’re on.”

In which a bet is made, Steve’s prowess shines until it doesn’t, and sometimes things don’t end up the way they’re planned.

Sometimes, they end up better.

✨

i was thinking maybe i could lay beside you | 3k | steddie

Their room is the last door on the right, just like Joyce told them.

Eddie pushes inside first, immediately flicking the lights on. He spots their bags in the corner and beelines straight for them.

Steve, on the other hand, freezes in the doorway.

Because, oh. Oh.

There’s only one bed.

Which — Steve doesn’t know why this surprises him. This isn’t a hotel. It’s a guest room at a friend’s house. Of course it’s not going to have two beds in one room. He doesn’t know why he was expecting that.

But it’s — it’s fine. This is cool. He can share a bed for the night. He’s shared lots of beds in his day. There’s nothing different about this time.

Except that there is because he doesn’t have to share with just anybody. He has to share with Eddie.

Eddie, who hasn’t even batted an eye at the bed situation. Eddie, who seems cool as a cucumber about it. Eddie, who—

Who’s already shucked his shirt off and has his thumbs hooked into his sweats, about to tug those off too, and jesus fucking christ, Steve can’t do this. He cannot do this.

✨

in all your blame, in all your pain | 2.4k | steddie

When Eddie had gotten dragged headfirst into this alternate hellscape dimension, DnD monsters-come-to-life nightmare shitshow, no one told him that by the end of it he’d be offering himself up as bat bait to do his part in putting an end to it all.

No one told him that he’d wind up mangled and shredded and torn apart, but still, somehow, alive.

No one told him that he’d be bedridden for months afterwards, as his body stitched itself back together. That some days would be painful at best, while others would be downright excruciating. That he’d barely be able to walk at first, or bathe himself, or even eat on his own.

No one told him that healing would be the most grueling part of it all.

But those were all things that Eddie could get over. Things that, with time, he could forgive. After all, it’s not like anyone had known that that’s how it was going to play out.

What Eddie could not forgive, however, was the fact that no one, not one single member of their rather large, rather extensive party had told him just how much Steve god damn Harrington loved to play Florence fucking Nightingale in the aftermath.

✨

come and rest your bones with me | 2.6k | steddie

“We’re making a fort.”

Steve is barely even halfway through the door when he is accosted with the declaration. His slick raincoat is still zipped up, his wet umbrella still wide open and dripping onto the porch behind him.

“What?” He asks, fumbling to close the umbrella and shake it out before a stack of blankets are being shoved into his arms.

“We are making a fort,” Eddie repeats, grinning at Steve. He’s got his own heap of blankets bundled against his chest, and when Steve glances past his shoulder he can see that the bones of said fort are already mostly established — Wayne’s armchair has already been moved from its cozy corner of the room to now sit directly across from the couch, and the coffee table has been pushed to the side so as to not be a nuisance to the building process.

And, well, it sounds like a lot of fun, actually.

“Yeah, sure, alright,” Steve replies with a huff of a laugh.

✨

hash brown, egg yolk (i will always love you) | 2.8k | steddie

Six months is a long time to be apart. A long time to go without seeing Eddie in the flesh. Without hearing his laugh, low and melodic, right against the shell of his ear. Without hugging Eddie around the middle and hooking his chin over Eddie’s shoulder while he stands at the stove and pushes something delicious around a pan. Without kissing Eddie.

But so is the way of being married to a hotshot musician with a band that has more than made it big.

Because that's what Eddie is. And, god, Steve couldn’t be more proud.

Even if it does mean that sometimes he and Eddie have to go long stretches of time without seeing each other.

But that doesn’t matter anymore. Because Eddie is home now, and he’s going to be home for a while. Corroded Coffin just wrapped up the European leg of their tour (“Fucking Europe, Stevie! Can you believe it!”) and they’ve been given a month before their North American leg is set to start. A whole entire month that Eddie already promised he will be spending at home with Steve.

Starting today.

✨

stuck to the gum that's stuck on your shoe | 2.1k | platonic stobin

“Talk to me, Steve,” Robin says, “please.”

And now she sounds upset, and that makes Steve feel even worse.

He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to make Robin feel bad. She’s been so excited ever since she got that letter in the mail, going on and on about the linguistics program she’d been accepted into, about the campus and how gorgeous it is, about the surrounding city and how much there is to do there.

Steve doesn’t want to rain on that parade more than he already has.

But he knows that she’s going to wheedle it out of him eventually. Might as well rip the bandaid off now.

He can barely bring himself to say it. It hurts too much to acknowledge. But he does, because he has to. Because he will have to.

“You— you got into college, Rob. You’re going to leave,” Steve finally tells her. Whispers, because if he says it too loud he thinks he might break again.

“Oh, Steve,” Robin breathes.

✨

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now) | 10.6k | steddie

“Mistletoe!” Robin cheers, and Steve’s heart stutters so hard in his chest that he thinks it might crack his ribcage and drop right out the bottom of his stomach.

His eyes fly up, and, sure enough, there hangs one of the many sprigs hung all around the apartment. Small and inconspicuous, but unmistakable. That ridiculous little plant has no idea that it’s just turned Steve’s entire world on its axis.

Across from him, Eddie’s eyes are trained up too, big and round and wide where they stick on the mistletoe. His lips are parted in surprise, and Steve can’t help but stare and think am I going to kiss those now?

When Eddie finally tears his gaze from the plant and lets it flicker down to Steve, a pretty pink dusting blooms across the bridge of his nose and spreads into the apples of his cheeks when he finds Steve already looking back.

Steve spares the mistletoe one last quick peek before he takes a deep breath and steels himself. This is it. He sticks his hands on his hips, aiming for casual, and asks, “What do you say, Munson?”

Or, Steve makes a promise, Robin likes to meddle, and the spirit of Christmas strikes (out) again. And again. And again.

(Until it doesn’t.)

✨

under my umbrella | 5.8k | steddie

Steve sidles up to the bench. Munson stands at the other end of it, arms crossed tightly over his chest, glaring out at the street as if that will make the bus show up any quicker. His bangs are flat against his forehead, the rest of his long hair lank and wet over his shoulders.

He looks like a drowned cat.

So Steve holds out his umbrella. Tilts his chin and raises his eyebrows at Munson as an invitation to step under and get out of the rain.

Munson looks at the umbrella for less than a second before he turns back towards the street with a scoff. “No thanks,” he says. “I’m good.”

“Dude,” Steve says, dumbfounded.

“Dude,” Munson parrots mockingly.

“You’re really going to turn down my umbrella?” Steve asks, still holding it out.

“I really am,” Munson replies, showing all of his teeth in a rancorous smile. “Now if you don’t mind,” he adds, taking a large step forward, closer to the curb and further from Steve.

Steve lets out an indignant huff and pulls his umbrella back to himself. Only just refrains from muttering an unsavory name under his breath because he’s a good person now.

Whatever. Let Munson get soaked. Let him freeze.

✨

temptations of trouble | 2.8k | steddie

Eddie ignores the flip flopping in his stomach as he meets Steve’s gaze and fits his palms to either side of Steve’s jaw. Cradles his face like he’s something special now. (Because he is.)

And then he leans in to kiss him. Right on those pretty pink lips of his.

It’s short and sweet like it always is, but when Eddie pulls back and opens his eyes, he’s met with Steve’s, wide as fucking saucers, goggling unblinkingly back at him. He can feel Robin’s stare boring into the side of his face, can feel the tiny pinpricks of Nancy’s and Jonathan’s and Argyle’s on his back too. The whole room is quiet enough to hear a god damn pin drop.

Eddie is about to open his mouth and ask what the hell that’s all about when it finally catches up with him.

He just fucking kissed Steve fucking Harrington. On the mouth.

✨

waving down the wind | 10.3k | steddie

Eddie furrows his brows, and he’s about to ask Steve what he did come over here for, when Steve starts to shrug out of his jacket. Rolls his shoulders back and lets it slide down his upper arms.

“I came over here,” Steve starts, and he gives his arm a shake when the sleeve gets caught around his elbow. Once it’s off, he bunches his fist into the fabric of the collar. “To give you this,” he finishes and holds out the coat.

Eddie blinks down at it. Then he looks back up at Steve. “What?”

Or, three times Eddie looks cold and Steve does something about it, and one time he’s toasty warm.

✨

the world will follow after | 2.6k | steddie

Another glance at the clock and Steve really has to leave now. He barely has time to shove the piece of toast Eddie, so graciously, made for him (crisp, but not too crunchy, and definitely not burnt, with just the right amount of butter spread thin across the top) into his mouth before he’s running towards the door.

He’s about two steps away from it, hand already reaching for the knob, when Eddie catches him. He gives Steve's shoulders a squeeze, then spins Steve around and reaches for his collar next, fussing with it until it’s straightened and flat. He pats Steve twice on the chest and gives him a smile.

“All set now,” he says. Then, “have a nice day at work.”

Steve, at the complete whim of his scrambled brain, smiles back, tells Eddie thanks, glances at his watch, curses under his breath, then leans in to kiss Eddie goodbye.

Then, just as quickly, he’s out the door and in his car and finally on his way to work.

It isn’t until he’s halfway there that it hits him what he’s just done.

He kissed Eddie Munson.

✨

from this moment on | 3.9k | steddie

Steve bought the ring a year after they started dating.

It was too soon, way too soon, even if everything they’d been through made it feel like they’d known each other, like they’d been in each other’s corners for forever. One year was entirely too early to be putting marriage on the table, especially when they were still so young. Not to mention, Steve knew that Eddie had a rocky relationship with the concept thanks to his parents, and, truth be told, so did Steve.

But none of that really mattered. Because Steve was that in love. He was that sure of them.

So he bought the ring. Without hesitation.

And he held onto it, for all this time. He’d had a gut feeling, back in 1988. And eight years later it’s still there. Still there and stronger than ever.

✨

can't hide the way you make us glow | 6.3k | steddie

“So,” Wayne finally says and looks between them. He gestures his can from Steve to Eddie and back. “Still just friends, huh?” He deadpans.

Steve chokes on his sip of beer, and a grin cracks across Eddie’s face.

“To the general public of Hawkins, sure,” Eddie responds smoothly, hand absentmindedly rubbing Steve’s back as he recovers.

Wayne narrows his eyes at him. “I ain’t the general public of Hawkins, now, am I?”

Eddie shakes his head. “No, I suppose not.”

When he doesn’t elaborate any further, Wayne lifts his eyebrows expectantly. Out with it, boy they say. He barely refrains from waving his hand in a go on then motion.

“Steve and I… we’re, uh,” Eddie’s smile turns soft around the edges, and his hand goes to Steve’s beside him, drawing it into his lap and lacing their fingers together, “we’re going steady now.”

Or, Wayne finds out that Eddie and Steve are EddieandSteve.

✨

good for my boy | 7.4k | steddie

Wayne lets the front door swing shut behind him, rattling and smacking into the frame audibly.

“Jesus, Munson!” A voice rings out — the freezer fiend’s, and definitely not Eddie’s. “Took you god damn long enough!” The head finally pops out of the freezer. “I got tired of waiting and — oh.”

The stranger’s hand slips from the handle and the freezer door thumps shut. As does the stranger’s mouth when he looks right into the face of, not Eddie Munson as expected, but Wayne Munson.

Wayne briefly recognizes him as the Harrington boy.

or, the first time Wayne Munson meets Steve Harrington is a complete accident.

✨

if you have a minute | 10.6k | steddie

They pass the cigarette back and forth for a few quiet minutes. And there’s something about Eddie’s presence that’s helping just as much as the nicotine.

Eddie holds the cigarette back out for Steve, blows the smoke out in a smooth, steady stream, and tilts his head. “You working tomorrow?” He asks.

Steve shakes his head. “Not tomorrow. Why?”

Eddie pushes himself off of the wall. “Great,” he declares and grins. “We’re doing something then. You and me. I’m gonna take you somewhere.”

Steve’s face scrunches. “What? Where?”

Eddie tuts and wags his finger. “Nope, not telling you,” he says. “You’ll find out tomorrow. Meet at my place at nine. Don’t be late.”

He doesn’t give Steve a chance to argue or further question it. Just throws a little salute and turns on his heel, disappearing around the corner.

Or, the one where Steve’s anxiety doesn’t get the hint that they defeated the Upside Down, and Eddie knows just how to help.

✨

and stars, and stars, and stars | 1.5k | steddie

“What are you even painting?” Steve questions, unable to keep himself from asking. Eddie hadn’t told him his plan when he’d first laid Steve out and gathered his brushes — just instructed Steve to stay still and let him paint, he’d see soon enough. But Steve is curious, and it’s been almost an hour now.

Steve carefully tips his head to the side and presses his cheek against his folded arms, trying his best to catch a glimpse of Eddie where he sits atop the backs of Steve’s thighs, bent over his canvas in concentration. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, like it always does when he’s focusing hard enough, and a piece of hair dangles against his cheek, escaping the bandana he’d tied it back with.

“I’m painting an essence,” Eddie answers cryptically, and he draws the brush in a broad stroke, low on Steve’s back.

“An essence?” Steve repeats. “An essence of what?”

“An essence of you,” Eddie says simply. The brush dots Steve’s upper back now, light little taps.

Steve doesn’t know what that means, but he’s looking forward to finding out.

✨

i want to hold your hand | 14k | steddie

The film isn’t even on Steve’s radar at this point. He couldn’t say what’s happening anymore, but he doesn’t even care. Forget Geena Davis, forget Jeff Goldblum, Steve can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson, right there next to him, hand inches away from his own.

Steve’s pinky twitches out, like it’s got a mind of its own, towards Eddie’s hand. His heart is in his throat, breath caught behind it, as his pinky hovers, trembling. He could touch him. Wants to touch him. To hook his pinky over Eddie’s, curl them together, maybe even link the rest of their fingers too.

He’s never wanted to hold somebody’s hand so bad before.

✨

promise me nothing, live 'til we die | 2.9k | steddie

“You’ve seriously never had your first kiss, though?”

Eddie snorts. “Why do you sound so disbelieving? Come on, Harrington. I don’t exactly have a long line of suitors winding out my front door, vying for my hand or anything. Nobody wants to swap spit with the local freak. They might catch something.” He gives Steve a scrutinizing look. “I’m not like you, King Steve.”

“I’m not worried about catching anything from you,” Steve says.

Eddie tilts his head, perplexed. “Okay… thanks?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, I mean, if no one else wants to, I will.”

“Will what? Line up outside my door?” Eddie scoffs.

“Kiss you,” Steve says and knocks all the air out of Eddie’s chest. “I’ll do it.”

Eddie’s eyes have got to be as big as dinner plates as he blinks at Steve. “What?”

✨

harlow gold | 4k | platonic steve & nancy

Nancy is pretty sure that she could talk to Jonathan about it. He knows a little something about being the black sheep, and Nancy doesn’t think he would judge her for it. But they’d only just broken up, and while it was a mutual decision and an amicable split, she doesn’t think it would be fair to turn to him so soon after for advice about the feelings she already has for someone else.

She doesn’t have any girlfriends to talk to either. Robin is kind of the first close female friend she’s had since Barb.

And despite this budding friendship between herself and Robin, Nancy can’t turn to Robin. She’s the type to ask a lot of questions, and she doesn’t give up easily. She’ll push until she gets the answers she’s looking for. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, but Nancy isn’t so sure she’s ready for that kind of inquisition. Not about this.

Which only leaves one person that Nancy trusts enough with something as delicate as this, one person whom she is comfortable enough to confide in:

Steve Harrington.

✨

sloe gin fizzy, do it till you're dizzy | 6.7k | steddie

Eddie scoots down on the bed until he’s level with Steve and turns onto his side, shifting closer in the process.

The movement draws Steve, and his head lolls to the side to see what Eddie is up to.

It brings them nearly nose to nose, and Eddie goes a little bit cross-eyed focusing on Steve.

Steve doesn’t flinch away from the closeness. Just breathes and blinks. And then his eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and right back up, so quick that Eddie’s hazy brain would have missed it if he hadn’t been paying attention, hadn’t been anticipating it.

Eddie takes it as the invitation it has to be, and slowly, slowly closes the distance. His nose does bump into Steve’s as he enters his space, but he pauses, hesitates with his mouth hovering a hair’s breadth away from Steve’s.

He waits for the rejection, for the brutal shove away, for the disgusted “what the fuck man?”.

But they don’t come.

What does come is Steve’s mouth, pushing forward to press against Eddie’s.

✨

it's my feeling we'll win in the end | 6.3k | steddie

Eddie thrusts his hand, fisted around the diploma, into the air like he’s god damn John Bender on the football field, and he lets out a triumphant whoop.

He hears his friends go crazy in their seats again, and when he finds them in the crowd once more he sees that Dustin has climbed up onto his chair, one hand gripping Steve’s shoulder for support while the other is pumping through the air. He’s shouting Eddie’s name, and so is Mike, who is clapping so hard his hands must hurt. Lucas and Max each are holding one corner of a sign spelling out “Eddie the Conqueror” across the center, with hand painted flames licking around the words. It makes Eddie laugh, bright and buoyant, and he shakes the diploma through the air some more.

Eddie’s chest feels tight in the best kind of way as a sudden tidal wave of emotions body slams him, clogging his throat and forcing him to take a sharp, deep breath through his nose. His nostrils flare with it, and a hysterical sort of laugh bubbles up. It’s just, he’s never been this happy before. Never been this proud. Never felt this good.

He’s smiling so big that his cheeks hurt. He feels like he’s walking on fucking air. He did it, he fucking did it.

✨

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I’ve been following your Rocky Start series and I LOVE it, firstly let me say that. It’s so endearing and I think a lot of his dialogue feels so accurate and realistic. I can’t wait to follow any upcoming chapters!

I wanted to send you this sketch I did inspired by the chapter 3 ending scene giving my perspective on what he looks like. I LOVE the freckles and big nose idea. (and also no shirt because—man tiddies)

Love your work sm 🤍

You come into MY inbox and call *this* a SKETCH!! And give me compliments!! 🥰☠️ I opened this just before lunch and I’ve been periodically looking back at it whenever I’ve had the chance to for hours since! It’s so so so so pretty and I love it so much, thank you 😭💕

The detail in his face is incredible, his lips are so kissable and look at that nose!!! And the scars!! König bb you are cleared of any all crimes you have and will commit cause you’re too handsome 😍 the scene definitely should’ve included König mysteriously losing his shirt now that i see it, but I suppose there’s always time to rectify his wardrobe in the coming chapters 👀

#König #mw2 #A Rocky Start #I’m legitimately fuming that he can’t come out the page and hover over *me* like that #look at him 😫😫😫#Rocky Start Fanart

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sanguineterrain · 11 months

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hehe hiii sanne. do u have any thoughts about steeb in that wonderful mind of yours that u want to share with the class (me)

u didn't ask but rn i'm thinking about cowboy steve n how his hair would be a little lighter bc he spends more time in the sun and also he would have more freckles also bc of the sun. and the way he'd occasionally just take off his hat and plop it on ur head when ur riding him n say that ur the cowboy now

okay um 🧍‍♀️something has been unleashed and I wrote a cowboy!steve x outlaw!reader thingy (gn reader | 561 words) @inkluvs

****

"Are these really necessary?"

You look down at Steve from your place on his lap. Your hands are still cuffed behind you.

"You're a criminal," he says, a touch strained. "'S a necessary precaution in my line of work."

You'd invited yourself into his lap a couple of minutes before. Neither of you has taken issue with how it's gone so far.

He's pretty. Too pretty, in your opinion. Certainly too pretty to be cuffing people, but maybe you're biased.

"C'mon," you continue, leaning in so your nose presses into his cheek. "How 'm I s'posed to kiss you right with my hands behind my back?"

Steve's skin is warm and tanned from days of chasing you through the Rockies. His starched white shirt is partially unbuttoned, and you can see dozens of freckles on his throat. You wonder if they go all the way down.

He scoffs. "I'm sure you can figure something out."

You push down on his lap and Steve grunts. The sound thrills you.

"Act tough all you want," you say. "But I know how easy you are, Harrington."

You're a hair away from his mouth. One large hand slides behind your neck, but you dodge his grip, sitting back on your haunches.

"Unlock me," you order, grinding on the front of his trousers.

"Absolutely not," he says through gritted teeth.

"Hm." You shift. Steve automatically holds onto your waist. "This what you pictured while you chased me down?"

His Adam's apple bobs in a deep swallow. You lean in and kiss the sweat on his collarbone. He tastes like salt. You let your teeth scrape against his skin. Steve's hips buck.

"Quit teasin'," he says, breaths heavy like you punched them out.

You did sock him before, weeks ago. You think he might be a glutton for punishment, your cowboy.

"Oh, you're giving orders now? Baby, you couldn't make it a day without touching me."

You travel up to his jaw, then under his ear to suck the tender skin there. Steve grunts, his hands clenching your waist.

"Look'it you," you whisper. "Gaggin' for it, ain't cha? Bet you dreamed 'bout this."

"I-I did not."

The flush spreads high on his cheeks. Steve looks up at you, eyes bleary. You feel for the small hook in your cuffs.

"Tell me how much you want me, honey pie," you coo. "Go on."

You nip at the shell of his ear. Steve shivers and whines. You grin.

"You're real sweet, huh?" you say. "Bet you'd give anything to kiss me. Big, bad desperado Harrington just needs a soft touch. Ain't that right?"

"I am—" Steve takes a deep breath. "I'm here to take you in."

The hook in your cuff releases. You pull your left hand free and lean in, lips an exhale from Steve's.

"I'd love to see you try, sweetheart."

Steve lunges, but you're too quick. He's clumsy with heat and desire. You kick his chair and dance backward, snatching your holster in the process.

"Get back here!" he grits out.

You laugh, shaking your wrist. The cuffs jingle.

"This was fun. You ask me nice and I'll cuff you next time, baby."

You close the door and jam the lock, Steve's shouts chasing you all the way down the stairs.

Yes, he's much too pretty to be cuffing people. But plenty pretty for other things.

#uh anyways.... 🫣 nobody look at me and my handcuff tendencies #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #cowboy steve harrington #western au #inbox #blurb #ivy tag ☘️

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 1 month

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From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

A/N: Some dialogue from FOI.

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chrissy didn't try to find Eddie the next day or the following Monday. She listened as Ronnie told her all about what happened in the recording studio Sunday, how it started off very rocky, but once they worked through their nerves, it turned out really awesome.

"Okay, enough about me," Ronnie said. "You were really distant on Friday. I was pretty much busy all weekend. Anyway, did anything happen? Did you finally get to talk to Eddie like you wanted to?"

"Uh, yeah," Chrissy said. "So, the demo is sent out, huh?"

"Don't change the subject, Henderson," Ronnie said.

"You're my friend, right?" Chrissy asked. "I mean, no matter what happens between me and Eddie?"

"Duh," Ronnie said.

"I think I'm done with Eddie," Chrissy frowned.

"Shit, what did the dumbass say?" She asked.

"He said the one thing that could drive me away," Chrissy said. "I was just trying to stop him from pushing me away, so I showed up at his house. I met his dad when he wasn't there yet, and God, he's definitely a conman. I think he's conning Eddie into something, and I think it might be something serious. I think that Wayne tried to talk Eddie out of whatever it is."

"What did he say?" Ronnie asked softly.

"He said I was crazy like my mom," Chrissy said.

"Shit, doesn't he know that your birth mom is in Pennhurst?" She asked.

"Yeah," Chrissy said.

"Fucking dick," Ronnie said. "I'm going ram my drumstick - "

"Ronnie! Look, he's clearly being self-destructive, and if he doesn't want me around to watch that, then so be it," Chrissy said. "I know he didn't mean for that to slip out."

"You're too forgiving, Chrissy Henderson. He doesn't deserve you," Ronnie said.

"This Eddie doesn't. I know the Eddie I fell for is still in there, hiding behind fear," Chrissy said, frowning. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not still pissed at him. And that doesn't mean that he's going to get off lightly if he does get his head out of his ass."

"Are you going to make him suffer?" Ronnie asked.

"I have ideas," Chrissy replied.

"Yes!"

Chrissy didn't look Eddie's way or bother to try to talk to him, and when he did try to approach her, it was her turn to scurry away. She didn't talk to him until Wednesday afternoon, when she turned the corner to discover him being pinned face first against the lockers by Tommy Hayes and Jason Carver. Connor was there, too.

"Hey! Let him go!" Chrissy yelled.

"What are you willing to do for me if we do let him go?" Jason asked.

"Well, I'll let you keep your equipment for one thing," Chrissy said, narrowing her eyes at him and Eddie snorted.

"Shut up, freak!" Tommy yelled at Eddie.

There were two Tommy Hs in this school. There was Tommy Hagan, who was an asshole but too much of a coward to actually do what this Tommy was doing. It was what had made it easy to hang out with him when Steve had been friends with Tommy Hagan. No, this Tommy H was far worse. Where Tommy Hagan was dark-haired with freckles littering his body, Tommy Hayes was blond haired with fair skin that was free of moles or freckles. Tommy Hagan always held a sliver of humanity beneath his bitchyness and snark. It always told Chrissy that this was something that he was eventually going to grow out of. Hayes held a darkness in his eyes, telling her that this was always going to be a part of him. Jason held an almost similar simmering darkness in his eyes, but it wavered slightly when Chrissy looked at him pleadingly.

"Don't do this, please," Chrissy said.

"He was breaking into a classroom," Jason said furiously.

"I was given permission! We were told we could use it for Hellfire!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I believe him, Jason. Let him go. It doesn't give you the right to do this," Chrissy said. "You don't have to be like this. You guys don't have to be enemies. His interest in the game isn't going to hurt you. It's just a fantasy game. You play your game, and he plays his. Leave him alone."

"Where's the fun in that, Cunningham?" Tommy H asked.

"Henderson," Chrissy, Eddie, and Jason corrected.

Jason stepped closer to her, and Eddie struggled against the others' grips.

"Leave her alone!" Eddie yelled.

"Serious answer here, Chrissy. What are you going to do for me if we let him go?" Jason asked.

"Are you seriously asking me that? Date you, and you leave Eddie alone?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes," Jason said hopefully.

"Don't!" Eddie cried out. "You don't have to do that, Chrissy. I'll be okay."

Chrissy stared at him as Tommy H pressed Eddie's face into the locker, their hands holding his arms so tightly that she knew they were leaving bruises. She looked into his wide brown eyes, so full of sorrow.

"Eddie," Chrissy whispered.

"I'm sorry, Chrissy, I'm sorry," Eddie wimpered.

"You really love this freak?" Jason said furiously, his jaw clenching.

Before Chrissy could answer, there came a scream, and Gareth was running toward them. Ronnie was running after him, trying to hold him back, but he was determined. He slammed his elbow into Tommy H's stomach, causing him to bend over. It allowed Eddie to push back against Connor and turn around. Tommy grabbed Gareth, holding him tightly.

"Get off of him," Eddie told him.

"Your freak king thinks I should do what he says," Tommy sneered, and Gareth spat in his eyes. "You little shit!"

He started dragging Gareth away. Chrissy went to chase after, but Jason grabbed her arm. She reacted quickly and slammed her knee into his groin before swinging her fist into his face as well. Jason cursed.

"Let me go," Gareth said.

"I'm going to kill you," Tommy spat at him.

Chrissy saw the look in Tommy's eyes at the same time that Eddie did. This wasn't just something that you say in the heat of the moment. He meant it. Tommy drove his knee into Gareth's chest, sending the boy to his knees. Chrissy rushed at him, but Jason, who was kneeling on the floor, grabbed Chrissy's ankle, causing her to fall hard against the tile and the other lockers. Her head hit the metal, and she gasped in pain, feeling the blood beginning to spill from her split eyebrow. Looks like she was going to have another scar. She shot her other foot out, slamming it into his face.

"Chrissy," Jason said, his nose bleeding and his eyes wide as he gazed at her.

"Chrissy!" Eddie yelled.

She stood up shakily, and they both watched as Tommy kicked Gareth forcibly in the head. Gareth flew back into the lockers with a loud crunch. He gasped and curled up on the ground, clutching his wrist. Chrissy was feeling a little woozy and tried to stop Tommy from picking up Gareth, but he pushed her down. Meanwhile, Eddie was trying to escape Connor, but it was no use. Tommy pulled Gareth up, the kid letting out a painful wimper. His arm went back as he tried to punch Gareth in the face. Ronnie, however, intervened by stepping in between them and taking the blow that was meant for Gareth.

"Are you done?" Ronnie demanded. "Or do you want to show off by beating up a freshman some more?"

"That's enough," Higgins voice spoke.

Higgins' eyes took in the scene. He moved to Jason and the others, finally landing on Eddie. He glared accusingly at him, like it was fault. No, why wouldn't it be the people who were actually responsible? Chrissy glared at Higgins. They were all brought to his office, except for Gareth. He was on his way to the hospital. Chrissy refused to go, instead fixed up her cut right there in the main office, glaring at Jason as she did so. Her eye was going to bruise. She just knew it. The other two were playing with their detention slips, but Jason was starting to look guilty, at least. Chrissy tossed her bloody tissue at him as she followed Eddie into Higgins' office.

"Miss Cunningham, I didn't ask you to come in here yet," Higgins said.

"I know, I came in here to make sure you listened to what actually happened and not just outright accuse Eddie," Chrissy said with a forced smile. "And for God's sake, it's Henderson."

"He knows what actually happened. Tommy Hayes made sure his parents bought him out," Eddie said. "How much is it going to cost them this time to bail him out? Three times the going rate? Maybe four? Maybe you get a new car this time. I've heard he's got a great stock of new Volvos."

"Are you finished? Wonderful," Higgins said. "Now. I’d like to run through the events of this afternoon with you because you seem to have an uncanny ability to ignore reality. Point one: After the final bell, you led your…club in breaking into a teacher’s classroom without that teacher’s knowledge or consent. Point two: when Mr. Hayes and his friends discovered your trespass. You goaded them into attacking —"

"That's bullshit!" Eddie and Chrissy exclaimed.

"Eddie works his ass off to clean classrooms to get permission to have a place for Hellfire," Chrissy scowled. "Those assholes were trying to hurt Eddie for his own amusement. He ran so they'd go after him instead of his friends."

"Miss Cunningham - "

"For the last goddamn time, IT'S HENDERSON!" Chrissy yelled.

"—which leads me to point three: in the ensuing altercation, four students were injured, one badly enough to send him to the hospital. Do I have that, right?" Higgins asked, ignoring Chrissy.

“No! We were minding our business, and those guys jumped us!"

Higgins shakes his head.

"A child is in the hospital, and you are sitting here whining and pointing fingers," he told Eddie.

Higgins sighed and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it towards Eddie.

"What is this?" Eddie asked.

Chrissy peered over his shoulder to read it with him. Apparently, Stan's mom had taken him out of school when she found out he was in Hellfire and stuck him into a program to free him from his satantic influence. Chrissy cursed under her breath.

"I want to make this very clear, Munson," he continued. "What happened to Stanley is your fault. So is every bruise on every student sitting out in that office. So, is the child currently awaiting an orthopedic surgeon at Hawkins Memorial. ‘Oblique displaced fracture.’ That’s what the paramedics told me. ‘Lucky if he avoids nerve damage.’ I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but I do know it means it will be at least eight weeks until he can use that arm again."

"How about placing the actual blame on the kids who hurt him for no goddamn reason? Eddie was trying to protect his friends, and in turn, Gareth tried to do the same. Gareth wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't set your little minions on trying to hurt Eddie," Chrissy glared at him. "You're supposed to be an educator, but instead, you're turning this place into a battlefield and turning these kids against each other."

"Miss Cunningham, get out of this office, I will deal with you later," Higgins sighed.

"Chrissy - " Eddie started to say.

"NO!" Chrissy yelled. "I won't let you do this to him."

Higgins ignored her, proceeding to tell Eddie how Hellfire was finished. How Higgins had persuaded the staff not to let Eddie use their classrooms for his club. He told Eddie that they needed a faculty sponsor, and Eddie jumped at the chance to tell him that he'll find a sponsor, that he'll register the club.

"I'm asking you not to," Higgins said, and Chrissy didn't like the tone of his voice. "Let's talk about Veronica Ecker."

"She doesn't have anything to do with this, " Eddie and Chrissy said.

"This afternoon, she was involved in a serious brawl on school property. This is the sort of act that universities find…shall we say, significant? Or maybe the better word would be consequential. Which is to say, there are often consequences." He shook his head. "We were all so proud of her for overcoming her beginnings. NYU! A marvelous school. A terrific opportunity for a bright young woman. And to pile on a full scholarship on top of that achievement?”

Chrissy felt like someone punched her in the stomach, and she could only watch as Higgins blackmailed Eddie into dropping out. She grabbed Eddie's shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Why me?" Eddie asked. "You’re right. I’m number one on the shit list of everybody in this school. In this town. And I honestly don’t know how I got there. I was hoping you did since you’ve got such a clear picture of what I should be doing with my life."

"Because it's just who you are," Higgins said.

"Eddie, it's not who you are. We can figure this out. We can talk to Hop," Chrissy pleaded with him.

"Ronnie's your friend, too, Chrissy," Eddie whispered. "Could you live with it? If she lost everything because. . .because of me."

"Eddie," Chrissy said softly.

Looking at him, she knew there wasn't anything that she could do to change his mind. He already made it up.

"Then congratulations, Principal Higgins," Eddie said. "You're looking at Hawkins High's newest dropout."

He didn't bother waiting to hear what he had to say, Eddie stormed out of the office. Chrissy gave Higgins a withering glare before following Eddie. They both brushed past Ronnie, who looked confused.

"I need to talk to him first," Chrissy said quickly and ran out of the main office.

The hallway was empty as Eddie walked quickly away from her. She cursed her short legs as she hurried to catch up to him.

"Go away, Chrissy," Eddie said, his voice thick.

When she was close enough to him, she managed to grab his arm and pull him around to face her. Eddie was crying.

"You don't have to do this," Chrissy said softly.

"Except that I do. There's no other option for me," Eddie sniffled. "I can't stay here and watch people suffer because this whole fucking town is determined to hate me. I love this town, but their hatred is going to kill me. Chrissy, I can't stay, they won't let me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her heartbreaking for him.

"You would let me stay, though, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"In a heartbeat," she replied.

"I can't let them hurt you either," he said, shaking his head. "I know there isn't anything that I can do to make up for what I said. . ."

"You suffered enough, I think," Chrissy said.

She moved closer to Eddie and placed her hand on his chest. He placed his hand over hers and held it close to his heart.

"If I could, I would pick you up and put you in my pocket, take you with me," Eddie said. "Your place is still here, though."

"Yeah," she said, and the tears burst out of her. "This isn't fair!"

"I know, sweetheart," Eddie said and cupped her cheek with his free hand.

"Eddie, I lo - ," Chrissy started to say, but Eddie quickly put her hand over her mouth.

"If you say it, I'll stay," he whispered. "And I can't do that to Ronnie. I can't do that to you. If I stay, they'll keep hating me, and I'll just be this Eddie shaped ball of resentment knowing that they're going after the ones that I lo - ,"

Chrissy licked his hand, and he yelped, pulling his hand back.

"If you say it, I'll follow," she whispered, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "My freak."

"My witch," Eddie whispered.

"You know, we met once in middle school. We had this moment, so small, yet so significant. It should have just ended there, but who would have thought we would meet again years later," Chrissy said.

"Maybe we'll meet again," he said.

"I'll be in the front row of your very filled out concert, packed with fans. I'll be cheering for you," Chrissy said, more tears slipping out.

"I'll be singing for you," he whispered. "It's always for you."

Chrissy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his chest. He held onto her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He pulled back, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"I still owe you," Eddie said. "How about some ice cream?"

"Sounds perfect," Chrissy said.

They started walking out of the school, and Chrissy reached over to interlock their fingers together. It should feel like the end of something, but why does it feel like it was only the beginning?

Chapter Twelve

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a-libra-writes · 2 months

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can I please request for a Mordecai Heller x female reader? like reader is a showgirl who sings on stage like Mitzi one and tends to attract a lot of attention but backs out when they feel this murdercat plotting their death lmao. thank you 😁

heyo! I decided to do a looot of the cats for this one, since its p similar to my Peaky Blinders Jazz Singer post that I was fond of. GN Reader.

Being a Jazz Singer & Performer!

Rocky - When he was hired and met you for the first time, it was absolutely an "infatuation at first sight" situation. Pros!: He's unfailingly polite and sweet, he seems to play with even more energy when you two share a stage, his grin is very off-putting to creeps who shout up at the stage and harass you. Cons: He can get quite distracted when you two share a stage. Many times Zib has had to pull him back with the rest of the band, because he keeps unintentionally scooting closer to you.

The worst part of the Lackadaisy falling onto hard times is the fact you rarely worked there now - you had to sing at other clubs to make ends meet. One of Rocky's big motivators for getting the club back to its old self is you'd come back! Forever this time! (Probably). Rocky doesn't exactly have the time or money to visit the other clubs you work at, so he wants all of your attention during your infrequent visits to the Lackdaisy.

Freckle - Look, he's a shy kid, and the whole 'sneaking out under cover of night to do bootlegging/torpedo shenanigans' is still new. He doesn't have a lot of experience or frame of reference for what a good club singer is like, but Freckle thinks you've got to be one of the best. You have to be, right? Your voice is wonderful and you look positively celestial under the stage lights - wait, that's weird to think, right? Thank God he didn't say it out loud. ... He didn't, right?

Freckle hasn't the slightest idea of how to approach you, so it's up to Ivy and his cousin to drag him over and attempt conversation. It's... a little pitiable, but he's trying. That said, he's surprisingly outspoken and a little scary if someone tried to mess with you while you performed. You're used to the heckles and catcalls, but it's shocking to see that shy tabby jump up from his seat and raise his voice at them.

Ivy - She liked you from the moment she first saw you perform at the Lackdaisy, and that crush hasn't dulled over the months. She maaaay have kept a few posters that advertised the clubs you sang at, and may or may not have cajoled her way into those clubs so she could watch the show. She could easily sweet talk her way to backstage, too - seems you've got a fan.

When the Lackadaisy goes downhill, it's Ivy who wants to sweet talk you into returning. You'll bring in a crowd! The acoustics are great! Pretty pleeease? Her dad Ivy will pay you and not get in trouble until months later when the family accountant goes over the finances. Obviously she cares about the club's wellbeing, but she also wants to spend time with you! Though she's bold enough to just ask you outright. She's also bold enough to outright shout and fight anyone whose heckling you - throwing a heel is a favorite tactic.

Viktor - You're someone he saw often in the olden days, back when the club could afford to have you perform several times a week rather than once a month. Viktor never cared much for the cacophony the crowd and music made, though he knew objectively you were an excellent performer. Rather than endure the crowd, he'd listen to your voice drift across the caves backstage, rehearsing with the band or just by yourself. It was pleasant to listen to, and he could do so in private, either coming back from a job or about to go on one.

Once things began to fall apart, it's not as though he went around to clubs ... or anywhere, really. So if you stopped performing at the Lackadaisy, you might never see each other again. Choosing to stay (or at least do a few pity gigs) would lead to the surprising sight of the big, morose Slav working behind the bar and watching from there, rather than his previous hideouts. It's a little intense to be under that stare... but not all unpleasant? And given how sparse the crowd is, anyone making trouble and catcalling will get dealt with so promptly, they won't even have time to finish their wolf whistle.

Zib - Well, obviously he's going to be drawn in by an attractive singer. Come on. Zib can be smooth when he wants, chainsmoker-scent and rumpled clothes aside. The band likes to tease him mercilessly about it, but that doesn't stop him from cozying up while you two perform together and shooting his shot backstage after every show. Back when the Lackadaisy was thriving, he could afford to hang out at the other clubs you performed at; nowadays, though, that's not so likely.

Even so, starting up a friendship or even fling wouldn't be difficult. He's attracted to and interested in creative spirits, doubly so if you two had very different taste (so there's more to discuss!) and you got on well with the rest of the band. Late-night debates about this musician or that show over a game of cards and several bottles of wine, either together or with the rest of the boys, and waking up half-dressed and seriously hungover come sunrise. Opportunities for visiting would dwindle as the Lackadaisy's business dried up, though if you stayed on ... No, he wouldn't want that for you. If anything you'd be mentioning to him and the band that there's other places to perform to pay the bills. Well, it'd be food for thought.

Wick - Wick wouldn't call himself a music aficionado, especially what's listened to at these rowdy speakeasies, but he won't deny how hard it was to focus on his business associates when you were on stage. So when he discovered you often performed at his favorite club, it was a pleasant surprise. He really wanted to speak with you at some point, at least compliment the performance, but didn't want to come off as those typical entitled wealthy guys who get too fresh with ""lower"" class performers ... so sometimes you'd find flowers in the dressing room and an anonymous note of appreciation.

He finally gets a conversation when you're a guest at a posh party he's attending, or when you continue to perform at the Lackadaisy in spite of the dwindling crowd. It's a shame your large audience is missing, but at least it's way less awkward for him to strike up conversation when you come to the bar? He probably won't bring up the flowers. Oh god, what if you think that's weird. You probably assumed the flowers were some freak fan. Is he a freak fan? He's not, right? (It will take him like months of dating to finally admit to the flowers thing)

Serafine - A good-looking cat with a nice set of pipes is certainly someone she'd notice, especially if they were a regular performer at the Marigold Room and other places she frequented before that. If it was the former, she'd have plenty of chances to wink when you met eyes, "chancing" across you backstage or just being forward and chatting you up after the show. She certainly isn't shy about expressing her interest, and it could be a fun fling.

You do look adorable swinging your hips and swaying your tail along to the beat, not to mention the different get-ups you have to dress in. Serafine maaaay or may not have wanted to help pick a suit out, or help with make-up, or give you some of her jewelry to wear... It's half marking her territory and half she loves to lounge around your dressing room and be a pest. You'd never kick her out and she knows it. She'll do it in other clubs, too, though you have no idea how she keeps getting past security.

Nico - Like his sister, he has no qualms nor shame about trying to get your attention on stage. Unlike Serafine, though, he'd start doing it immediately and be a general pest after the show. The difference between his attention seeking and the other men's in the audience is he actually has some charisma when you two meet backstage, so you're only slightly inclined to tell him to buzz off. He wasn't much of a music expert, and he still isn't ... But he likes hearing you rehearse and hum to yourself, and it's endearing when he requests songs.

He's pleased when you get gigs at the Marigold Room, as it's easier to hang around before and after the show - and bonus, he gets to be extra aggressive with throwing creeps out to impress you! But if you're performing elsewhere then Nico will stop by. He might be bruised and/or bloody because he just left a job, but don't worry! Sometimes he'll even bring flowers or whatever - though without Serafine knowing, she'd never let him live it down.

Mordecai - He wouldn't approach you any differently from others - he'd still be his usual prickly, anti-social, often awkward self - in fact, he might avoid an avid performer, simply because they often have fans around them or at least people recognizing them. What could get his notice was someone whose real persona is very different from their ostentatious self on stage - more quiet and pensive, perhaps. Like any attempt at friendship, let alone romance, it's slow going with him.

That said, he's the type to admire professionalism in a performance. A well put together outfit, thoughtful musical arrangement (as if he's an expert ...). He wouldn't like a femme presenting singer have to wear skimpy clothes or tolerate a rowdy audience. If there was a questionable manager or creepy fan bothering them, Mordecai can deal with that, at least, not that he'd tell his friend/partner. Mordecai would generally glare down any touchy fans and annoying admirers like a jealous terrier. This amuses Mitzi to no end.

Asa - Simply put, he saw you performing at a ritzy party he was invited to and reached out to your manager so you might perform on a weekly basis at the Marigold Room. Very professional! He'd send flowers with his name to the dressing room afterward, would make sure you're finding everything to your liking and not being bothered by anyone. Requests to continue performing would bypass your manager to being nice, short handwritten notes.

Eventually he'd pay you extra and treat you to a nice dinner afterward, if you were comfortable with it. If you let the older man down, he's not too bothered. He'd continue the friendly business relationship and would still send flowers and so on. He'd rather keep you as a good business associate and continue to enjoy the performances than let his silly feelings get in the way. Alas, he is hopeless at discussions of your music. My guy called a ukelele a tiny guitar.

Wes - He never hung around the Marigold Room after hours - it's his workplace, and not really his vibe - but it's very hard to resist not sitting by for an hour (or three) with a drink while you finish your set. Sometimes you two will meet eyes, or he thinks you are, and he considers dropping backstage to say ... hello? He's an 'employee', so isn't checking up on you a normal thing to do? Make sure you're satisfied with the Marigold Room and all that. Right.

Ironically that's how he's finally able to meet the singer he's been mooning over for months. A drunk patron was getting too cozy on your way out, and Wes happened to be there. His face and ... charming demeanor is good for scaring off upper class wimps. So there's that. He's not so bad, though - clumsy, and prooobably realizes you're out of his league. You get to see more of his earnest side when you two meet outside of the Marigold Room, where his fellow murderous gangsters coworkers aren't watching yalls every move with popcorn in hand.

#posting 1 year later lets go lmao #lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #calvin mcmurray x reader #ivy pepper x reader #viktor vasko x reader #zib zibowski x reader #wick sable x reader #serafine savoy x reader #nico savoy x reader #mordecai heller x reader #asa sweet x reader #wes clyde x reader #also lmao sorry mordecai would not take a singer/semi famous partner well. too much attention #its funny to think abt tho like. cannot imagine this man has taste in upbeat jazz #cant even pretend to dance at least calvin tries!

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