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harmonictechnicality · 8 months

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*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now.

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way.

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him.

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness.

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body.

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers.

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head.

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy.

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests.

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time.

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking?

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier.

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too.

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere.

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible.

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in.

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies.

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.”

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words.

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does).

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve.

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir.

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night.

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself.

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #slight buckingham because I said so #lexssummerfanworkschallenge #biggest of shoutouts to lex for giving us this space to create and share together!!!#is the sleep depravation making Eddie good at flirting???#or is it all in his overactive imagination???#the world may never know #also Eddie is wearing one of Robin's shirts bc he never does laundry #that's not relevant - it's just a brainworm that he ironically wears her marching band tees #okay okay pls enjoy 💖#(and pretend I'm in a timezone where it's still August pls)

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cherryredstars · 4 months

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1K Prompts

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gn!artist!reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: The beauty in art.

A/N: Based on this request.

Word Count: 1.2K (Unedited)

He was more than just displeased.

He was tired and aching, muscles sore from a long day. The ache became more prominent as he was forced to hold his ridiculous pose. But no matter how much he huffed and puffed, he would hold it until you gave the okay for him to move. He guessed it wasn’t so bad. From here, he could see your side profile. Could see the lidded look in your eyes as you sketched onto your canvas, mouth slightly parted. Your eyelashes would flutter so beautifully as you blinked, the dying sunlight illuminating your small art room and making your eyes glisten and hair shiny. You could produce beautiful art, but Miguel would never find anything more beautiful than you in the process.

Another one of his huffs caught your attention, and you turned to him with a smile and laughter in your voice. “Miguel, I told you it would take a while. Stop complaining!”

He glared at you teasingly, shifting again but stopping when you glared back, “Can’t we just continue again tomorrow? I’m tired.”

Sympathy filled your eyes and you gave him another small smile, “I’m almost done. A few more minutes, I promise.”

Miguel sighed, staying in his position obediently. True to your word, you sketched a few more lines onto the canvas before thanking him. His muscles relaxed instantly, going to leave your art room to go to bed, but was stopped at the door when you gave him a quick kiss to his lips and thanked him again. He hummed against your lips, his body sagging as he told you not to stay up too late working. You gave him a dismissive wave of your hand and he went to bed.

____________________________________

For the next few weeks, every second of Miguel’s free time at home was spent in your art studio. You had insisted. Something about the handiness of having a live model to reference when it came to shadows and lighting and everything and anything under the sun. It was definitely better than posing, seeing as he was allowed to just lounge on your studio couch and do whatever he needed to do. It did get annoying every now and then when he had something important to work on, forcing him to carry things from his home office into your studio and then back out at the end of the session. But it brought a smile to his face every time he complained and you whined, “Please? I just want to spend time with you too. I like spending time with you.”

He likes spending time with you too.

Today was one of the rare days where Miguel didn’t have anything to work on. He simply laid on the couch, watching you work. Your brush was feather light on the canvas, picking into a pile of paint and transferring the coloring onto your work. Every now and then you would clean off your brush, a soft ringing filling the room as the brush handle knocked into the glass of water. The peacefulness made him sleepy, and he picked at a loose thread in your couch pillows.

“How come you won’t let me look at the painting? Is it bad?” He asked, the last bit covered in teasing.

You smiled at the canvas, eyes briefly flicking to him before you continued working. “The process of every painting is ugly. That’s why we say ‘Trust the process’.”

Miguel snorted at your answer, clearly dissatisfied. It made you laugh and you shook your head as you decided that you were done for the night. Maybe a day and a half more of working and you would be done officially. Your eyes flicker over to the calendar you keep on the wall. Perfect.

You walk over to Miguel helping him off the couch and guiding him out of your studio so the two of you can start on dinner before going to bed, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Trust me, it’ll be worth the wait.”

________________________________________

It’s snowing, Miguel realizes as he sits in the living room. He can see it behind the tree you have put up, fuzzy white dots falling from the sky. The air smells like your cooking, warm spices filling the house. He can hear you approaching from behind him, and he doesn’t even flinch when your hands suddenly fall to his shoulders.

Your hands massage the muscle absentmindedly, following his gaze outside of the window. “It’s snowing,” You point out, and he hums and repeats it back to you.

You seem to light up as you stare at it, squeezing his shoulders one last time before approaching the tree. Miguel watches you silently, brow raised in question as you grab one from the back. You check the tag on it to make sure it’s the right one, before walking back over to Miguel. You perch yourself onto his lap, handing him the present.

His arms wrap around your body, holding the wrapped gift in his hands before the two of you. He squeezes you in his arms, shaking the present slightly, before you place our hand over his to stop him.

“Gifts are supposed to be after dinner, hun.” He reminds you, and you roll your eyes at him.

“I know. But I think now is the perfect time for you to open it.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, smiling as he carefully uses a claw to cut through the tap and unfold the decorative paper. From how he opened it, he’s first revealed to the back of a canvas. On the back is your signature and the date, and his fingers trace over it before he slips it over. His breath gets caught in his throat as he stares.

It’s the painting of him that you were working on. He’s in your art room, glowing white highlighting his frame as he lays there. His face is towards the window, where snow is falling. His eyes are shiny, and the smallest smile graces his lips. He traces over each detail with his hand, smiling down at it.

“You like it?” You ask him, your hands playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

He nods, turning to you and leaning up for a kiss that you gladly return. You’re smiling against his lips, and you kiss the crown of his head when you pull away. Miguel nuzzles into your neck, setting the painting down on the coffee table so he doesn’t break it when he traps you into the couch. You laugh as you fall, Miguel laying on top of you and planting kisses up and down your neck.

“I love it, thank you.” He whispers into your skin. But then, he’s pinching your sides as he gives you a small glare. “But don’t think I didn’t notice you made me do that stupid pose for nothing!”

You burst out laughing, shoulders shaking as you throw your head back over the arm of the couch. “It wasn’t for nothing! I’ll have you know it was a great inspiration. Kept me very motivated.”

Miguel raises a brow, a large smile on his face. “Great inspiration was it?”

You nod, smile growing bigger as you agree, “The biggest.”

Miguel hums, nodding his head before he’s tickling your sides until you can't breathe.

“Inspirational my ass!”

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 1 year

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i had this thought, how would the 141 react to reader sleepwalking? like, it's nothing extreme, just walking around and scaring the shit out of everyone also i really love your work

Aww thank you! This is funny and I hope I did it justice

The 141 with a reader who sleep walks

Price

The first time it happened he was more confused than scared

He was up late because of reports. Everyone else was asleep as he made he way to the common area to get another cup of coffee

He was tired even with the caffeine and he was super close to calling it quits for the night when you wandered in

“Shouldn’t you be bed?” He wondered but you didn’t answer which made his eyebrows knitted together. “Everything alright?”

"No I don't want vegetables." You say exasperated and he just stares at you extremely confused

He only gets that you're sleep walking when he gets a better look at the daze in your eyes and the way you're not actually looking at anything

He didn't know you were a sleep walker and he's a little concerned about that but his first thing to do was get you back to bed

"Alright, back to bed with you."

He somehow manages to guide you back to your room and get you back to bed without much trouble, and without waking you up

When you're settled, he's immediately forgotten about his work and is looking into ways to help with your sleep walking

Call him worried, but he doesn't want you to get hurt or for this to happen at the wrong times

Ghost

Scared the ever loving shit out of him

He had been asleep for once finally catching up on the lost sleep after he passed out, his body finally unable to take the exhaustion he felt

However, despite how exhausted he was, he was still a somewhat light sleeper so when you wandered into his room he woke up almost immediately to you standing in the middle of his room seemingly staring at him

He jumped, still foggy with sleep before he sent you a glare with a racing heart as he turned the light on

"What are you doing?" He demanded, annoyed that you spooked him

"I'm the star of the show." You said, almost like it was fact which made his eyebrows knit together

"What?"

He only found out that you were sleep walking when Price came into his room a few minutes later and told him as he tried to usher you out of his room

Since then he's locked his door at night but is on the watch for you

You were so embarrassed when the next morning

Soap

Equal parts confused and amused

He was also asleep after a long day of training and recovering from the last mission

He's not that light of a sleep but he's going to wake up when you open his door loudly and start messing with the things in his room

"What're ya doing over there?" He wondered still half asleep as he watched you pick up one of his sketch books.

"This is the best bread I've ever tasted." You sounded so happy about it that he couldn't help but laugh

"Don't think that's bread."

He figured out you were sleep walking when you kept talking about random things and messing with his stuff with unfocused eyes

He sat in his bed just watching you for a bit, trying his hardest not to wake you up with his laughter until he started dozing off and he didn't want you to be sleep walking while he's asleep

"Let's get you to bed."

He managed to get you back in bed and tucked you in, too excited about how he's going to tell you in the morning

Gaz

Poor Gaz he was scared and then in pain

He was dozing off in his room, determined to stay up as he tried to get through a book or something else he wanted to do

He knew it was time to go to bed but he couldn't help himself and assumed that you were feeling the same way when you wandered into his room

He blinked away the bleariness in his eyes and greeted you with a smile

"What's up?" He was ready to spend some time with you but he quickly got unnerved when you stared at him with unfocused eyes. "Hey...?"

He didn't know what to make of it but the stare was freaking him out and he was also worried about you

Were you drugged? Did you have a bad nightmare and now you couldn't speak?

"Hey, what's wrong?" He walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you a slight shake

It was enough to wake you up with a gasp before you threw a punch to his cheek

"Ah, fuck!"

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!"

After you gave him an ice pack and explained to him that you sleep walk and that it's better for you to not be woken up he gives out a small laugh

"Good to know."

#simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #mw2 price #mw2 gaz

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whipped-cheese · 1 month

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FINALLY FINISHED THEM!!

Grrrgrgr it has been a wip for decades-

My fish babies!! Aaaa :D

Esmeray!!

Aaaaaaaaand Sulien!! :]

[click for quality]

Fish Duty au

EEEEEEEE!!! *Confetti!!*

Ramblings of a madman underneath-

-So, originally- just going to make sun- since I drew him in the little comic I made a while back, but then I decided , why not make a moon too

because-

you know-

no sun is complete without their Moon /silly

So rambling rambling rambling time, info dumping mmm

Wanted to distinct them with their own names-

Esmeray! (or just Ray) -(Sun)

Sulien! (or just sully/sul) -(Moon)

Esmeray means dark moon and Sulien means sun born c:

Sometimes I'll forget so if a say sun and moon at some point it translates to Ray or Sul-

-So the same logic as last time applies,

the lighter size of their face and body is damaged/very sensitive, so the eye that's on the lighter side of their face is very very foggy so essentially, they're blind on that side of the face, soooo half blind. Often causing them to bump into fish or other random things in their enclosure sometimes.

-Usually you only see ONE at a time, but NEVER BOTH.

Often leading visitors to assume that there is only one clownfish in the enclosure that transforms or something when it's night, but really, when it's daytime Esmeray is out y'knoww, entertaining, doing tricks, swimming around while Sulien sleeps and when it's night time, Esmeray sleeps and then Sulien is entertaining, or just glowing around, looking pretty.

You never see them both out at the same time, rarely.

Really unless it's something important or it's something special.

Sometimes they'll both cuddle together in their little cove..🥺 on their sea anemone bed

usually in the late evenings 4-5pm before Sulien gets to go out and roam for the night.

(ray can't fall asleep comfortably, without being close to his brother [happening since they were young] so sulien snuggles with ray until ray falls asleep)

-as I said before- later on down the line, when y/n begins working at a janitor at the exotic fish aquarium, our lil fishy frens kinda gets the memo after a while and starts to draw on a little area of sand that's infront of the glass to communicate and y/n started fogging the glass and writing on it to communicate, Ray (sun) doesn't understand words so they both do little drawings instead.

No one really knows where he learnt it from- but Sulien (moon) knows a bit of English, only a few simple words (hello,bye, mad, you, me, us, angry, food, help, feel,etc.) he also uses the sand.

Performance wise, esmeray does lil heart water bubbles, (or really just any shape, kinda like how clowns do balloon animals and other items) it's something he usually does for visitors, kids mostly. He'll wave, bow, press his face against the glass to be funny, do silly faces that makes the kids laugh, even some regulars that really want to become marine biologist, etc. that often visit the aquarium on weekends that he's very very fond of. He does loads of shows and tricks for people when they walk up to his case, very very active lil fella

the clown fish must perform!! :]

Sulien on the other hand, usually comes out when it's night time, so it's quite rare to see him considering he's mostly active during practically closing time- up until opening hours.

When people do have the rare chance of seeing him at the front of one side of their enclosure, he's not really that active in terms of show BUT he will put on a very pretty light show.

It's absolutely mesmerizing.

Those who get to stay and finish watching it atleast-

The guards are pretty avid on getting everyone out of the aquarium at the designated time.

He also sings sometimes, which is extremely extremely rare-

Guards working there for years have probably only ever heard it twice-

I'll be drawing (mostly sketches) more of them for a little<3

Also- before, I'd prefer posting stuff about my other au 'A Bad Teaser au /lust au' somewhere separate because it's slightly,eeeehhh just a touch suggestive- BUT

I'm gonna redraw and start posting stuff about it here.

Sooner or later (very soon- like I have loads of drawings of them but no where to put it, and I wanna share my suggestive whore men /pos /silly )

#Fish duty Au #fnaf daycare attendant #fnaf security breach #sundrop #moondrop #fnaf moodrop #fnaf sun #Clownfish sun #Clownfish moon #aquarium janitor y/n #janitor y/n

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carminecherry · 7 months

Text

inked | kazutora hanemiya

this is PART TWO of the series PUT A COLLAR ON YOUR PET

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART TWO LENGTH: 6k words

⇝ PART TWO WARNINGS: fem reader, heavy nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; angst, teasing, power play, tattooing sub!kazutora, confession, Y/N and kazu are both switches, dom!kazutora, possessive!kazutora, jealousy, kissing, hickeys, licking bug bites, nipple play, oral sex, fingering, safe sex, penetrative sex, orgasm denial, biting

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: it's smutty, hot, and heavy, enjoy 😘

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

When you got to the shop today you talked to your boss. His enthusiastic approval for Kazu’s neck tattoo didn’t make you as excited as it might have otherwise. Something about last night wasn’t sitting right with you.

The way he had lingered at your door, an unfamiliar look in his eye. Knowing you’d see him again so soon had that flurry of emotion stirring in your chest. Maybe that’s why the message sat unsent as you picked at your lunch.

“I got the go ahead, when do you wanna do this?”

You reread the short message for the nth time, your lip long since tender from anxious nibbling. You lock your phone and put your head in your hands. Before you could spiral, your boss, Rei, pops his head around the corner, “Hey newbie.” You sit bolt upright.

“At ease, soldier. I’ve gotta head out early today, how do you feel about locking up the shop by yourself tonight? You can stay and practice, just clean up before you head out.” “Oh… Yeah, sure, that’d be great!” “And if your friend wants to come in for the neck piece, you can stay as late as you need.” He says with a wink. Damn.

“Dope… Thanks, Rei.” He tosses you the keys with a jingle. You swipe them out of the air. “Have a good day, boss.” With a salute he turns and exits the shop. You sat there, alone in the not yet familiar space. It’s now or never. You finally hit send on the message.

His response is immediate,

“ASAP! When is the earliest you can do it?”

“Today if you have time”

“Fuck yeah it’s on! Is it cool if I come after work?”

You hesitate before confirming,

“If you have nothing better to do, playboy. I’m in the studio all night”

He reacts to the message and you lock your phone, taking a deep, steadying breath. Your phone buzzes with a string of messages from Kazu. You open them and see a chain of tattoo inspiration pics. They’re done in a kind of tribal style.

From your buzzed conversation last night, you remember he wants a tiger in that style. You crack your knuckles and get to work, sketching up a design on your ipad. You’re immersed in your drawing when you feel a puff of air against your ear, “Boo.”

You jump, to Kazu’s delight. “You should lock the door if you’re in here alone, anyone could come in.” “I- When-” You look and see it’s grown dark outside. He laughs, pacing around, sizing up the space.

“Just now, you seriously didn’t hear me come in?” Your silence is answer enough. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your boss you little liability.” He says with a wink. “That looks perfect, by the way.” He gestures to the device in your hand.

“Oh, thanks, um I’m almost done if you wanna- '' He plops down on one of the worn leather couches. “... make yourself comfortable…” He flips through the TV channels before settling on one for background noise, a horror flick. You return to your work, adding the final touches.

When the credits are rolling on the TV, you finally stretch in your chair, drawing his attention. “How’s this look?” You turn the screen to him. His eyes sparkle. “It’s… It’s perfect! God, I knew it had to be you.” The compliment and sincerity in his voice had your heart acting up.

“Of course, I’m basically a genius.” You say dismissively. “So you said neck piece but what size are we talking?” You roll your chair over to him, wheels squeaking. “Like around here.” He palms the space on the side of his neck, bringing it down slightly to his chest.

“Oh… So, like, huge?” “Gotta keep it on brand.” You scoff at his innuendo. Let me add some more for the chest. You turn your attention back to the screen, adding some swirls to the edges that would extend the tattoo. He watches over your shoulder, occasionally humming with approval. The theme music of another horror film plays on the TV. “Okay, how’s this?” He gives two thumbs up and a toothy smile. “Ok, I’m gonna print it.”

You look up and meet his golden eyes. “Say, have you ever gotten a tattoo before?” “Nope, you’ll be my first.” He says with joking seduction. He’s on your turf here. A streak of confidence flashes through you with the realization; the power balance is shifting in your favor.

“Oh~ I don’t know if you’ll be able to take it. The neck is very sensitive” You tease back. “If it’s just about endurance, I’ve never had any complaints.” His body leaning towards you. “No shame in tapping out, tickle boy.” You match his lean “That’s not a thing, you just play dirty.” He shoots back in a low voice. “That’s not all I do.”

The air in the shop turns heavy with your comment and the two of you simmer there. His eyes have a dark look. Your face feels warm. You clear your throat and rise. “Ok… Printing.” You tap across your screen as you walk to lock the shop door, flipping the sign to closed.

“Ohhh~ after hours, what an honor.” He says in a saccharine voice. “You don’t know how many other guys would kill to get an after hours session with me, don’t you feel lucky?” His taunt from last night turned back on him.

There is a fire behind his eyes and you avert your gaze quickly as the printer buzzes out the stencil, the distant screams and tense music from the TV washing away into the background. You swipe it up, the transfer paper still warm between your fingertips.

You take your time cutting out your design, hoping the extra moment may diffuse the tension in the air as your senses come back; you have tiptoed the edge of that boundary again. With a final snip you make your way over to him, he’s reclined in the plush sofa, legs spread in a confident, imposing way. His eyes trace your every move but you can’t meet them.

“So… For the placement… Since it goes down so low… It’s probably easiest if you take off your-” You don’t even finish the sentence before he peels off his shirt, placing it on the arm of the sofa as he looms over you. “Shirt… If you’re comfortable…” You look away, an effort to spare yourself from his relentless teasing.

He has a lean, muscular frame. Ghosts of scars littered on the defined planes of his chest and abs. “Like what you see?” His voice drips with honey. “Shut up and sit down.” You say, fully not facing him. He laughs knowing he’s gotten under your skin.

That swirling anxiety clenches in your chest. He plops back down on the sofa with a chuckle, spreading his arms across the back, giving you a full view. “Sit up, I’m gonna sanitize your skin.” You huff. “Oh! And sign this.”

You shuffle around some papers on your workspace and produce a consent form. Slotting it into a clipboard and thrusting it in his direction. He flips through the pages halfheartidly as you pull on some latex gloves. There’s the scratching of the pen on paper as he signs the form.

You grab the disinfectant and some wipes and finally face him. He catches your eyes as you do, a devilish grin on his face. “Let’s do this.” You pour some of the disinfectant on the wipe and get to work cleaning his skin. With a sharp inhale he says, “Fuck, that’s cold!”

“This is gonna be a long night.” You mumble. You laser focus on the space on the side of his neck, how the muscles and tendons flex under your touch, visualizing the tattoo there. You wipe down to his collarbone, trailing across the hollow space there before moving lower to his chest.

His silence is uncharacteristic but you welcome it, getting lost in your work. When you’re satisfied you withdraw the wipe and use your hand to fan the space you’ve cleaned. “Let’s let it dry for a second.” You turn around to grab the stencil and when you return you catch the final ghost of a blush leaving his cheeks. You choose to categorically ignore it.

“I’m gonna place the stencil, so try to hold still.” You hover over him, lining up the paper. Silence hangs in the air as you bring the top of the stencil paper to his neck, working in slow, firm strokes to lay the paper nicely.

You can feel the heat of his neck bleeding through the paper as you stroke lower to his collar, his chest. Your hand lingers, you can feel the flutter of his pulse. When it’s laid with no crinkles, you give a few more firm sweeps across the whole thing, bringing out a sharpie to mark the final stencil placement.

“Alright, let's see.” You peel the paper back and admire your work. The weeks of practice you’ve put in at the shop have paid off. “Take a look, do you want to adjust any parts?” He makes his way to the mirror across the shop. He twists and admires the stencil. You can’t help it when your eyes scan the muscular back, flexed, the one you felt last night. “Perfect…” He says softly.

“Let’s get into it then.” You say with a clap. Turning away from him before he notices you staring. You gesture behind a nearby privacy screen to your station’s tattoo bed and he reclines on the papered surface with a crinkle. You set up your ink, vaseline, and tattoo gun among other paraphernalia. He watches you attentively as you do. You grab the bottle of black ink and portion some out. “Ready?” “Ready.”

“Ok, so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” “What? Like a safe word?” “Sure, if you want one, tickle boy.” You can’t control the teasing tone in your voice. His nose scrunches in distaste at the nickname. “Hmm how about strawberry.” He relishes the word.

You cringe at the memory, an inside joke. A night spent over imbibing on strawberry vodka with the gang. A night that ended with you kicking off a two month sobriety stint after the violent vomiting and epic hangover that ensued.

“Strawberry it is.” You confirm, gagging on the word. “So, it’s gonna suck for like five minutes but after that… Well I might be weird, but for me it starts to kinda feel good.” “Yeah, that’s what makes you weird.” “Ha ha, he’s got jokes.” Your tattoo gun buzzes to life in your hand. “Here we go.” You swipe some of the vaseline over the spot you’re sizing up as the starting point.

Your gloved finger glides across the skin, the vaseline slick and warming quickly. He locks eyes with you and a crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. The little shit looked excited for this, total masochist. You bring the needle down, feeling a small pushback as it breaks the skin. He inhales sharply and groans. “Jesus fuck!”

“I know.” You say in a low, comforting voice. You continue, the gun hammering the ink into the sensitive skin of his neck. His eyes close and he bites his lip. “You ok?” He nods in response. You do a wipe to clear some of the blood and excess ink. His hand finds your leg over the edge of the bed, fingers digging into the fleshy part of your thigh. “Fuck” he exhales.

“Dude we’ve barely started, you sure you can handle this?” You tried to sound comforting but you can't help the smug taunt from seeping into your voice. It’s wrong, you know that, but something about this felt so good. A kind of revenge for the torment he’s put you through over the years, finally being the one in control.

“I’m going to start again.” You say in a low voice. He nods. You continue the line over the milky column of his neck, the skin around where you’d just tattooed turning a pretty red. His hand kneads the skin of your leg.

If it were anyone else you would’ve pried their hand off in seconds. But his touch… Felt warm. Familiar. You continue like this until the outline is done. Small noises occasionally bitten back by the man beside you. The hours pass by in a flash.

***

The buzzing stops and you place the gun down on your station cart, stretching. “Let’s take a quick break.” “Oh~ and you were worried about my endurance.” His words come out, slurring together pleasantly. That tattoo adrenaline high that you are good friends with. He must be feeling it after sitting so patiently through those first few hours.

You rip off some paper towels and do a dry wipe. He gasps, a little whine escaping at the end. His hand shoots up to grab your wrist, halting your movement. You freeze, face hot. His breathing comes in heavy puffs. With effort he opens his eyes, meeting yours.

His pupils are blown so wide they devour the pretty gold of his irises. He looks you up and down in a hungry way, bare chest rising with each breath. You try to ignore the way the rosy buds on his chest rise have grown hard and perky. “Ha- you weren’t kidding. It does start to feel good, really good after the first few minutes.”

His smile is feral, you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. “G-good. That’s, uh, that's good.” He pushes his torso up from the tattoo bed, the paper crinkling underneath him. You can’t help but notice the prominent bulge in his pants as it enters your peripheral vision. He tugs your arm, your stool rocketing towards him.

“Kazu-!” “Hmm~ You like this, don’t you, you sick little freak. You get off on this, huh.” “What the fuck are you talking about?! Kazu, let me go!” “You act like I can’t see you, see the way you look at me, do you think I’m stupid?!” “Time out, Time out.”

You feel a flash of anger, panic, taking your usual defensive stance. “God, come ON, when are you gonna get it?!” His grip tightens on your wrist. “Jesus! Strawberry!” You yelp. With a grunt, he releases your wrist. You shoot back in your chair, clattering into the cabinet behind you.

“Oh my~ Y/N, are you… scared?” He says with a glint in his eye. You feel yourself flush, “You’re seriously acting fucking weird, Kazu… More than usual. If you don’t feel well we can stop here for today.” You spit out venomously. “Why do you do that? Run away from me…”

His eyes widened in a strange way as he hops off the bed. “Is it cause you like to make me chase you?” You rise as well, squaring your shoulders, head spinning with the shift in energy, your eyes feel glossy with the prickle of angry tears. “Seriously, shut the fuck up. You’re pissing me off, for real.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re pissed off. You’re even cuter when you cry.” He says towering over you. You give a firm push to his chest to make space between the two of you. “God! Back UP! You’re such a dick Kazu! Why are you acting like this?” You hate that your vision blurs with unspilled tears. “There they are~” He swipes a hand up, thumb wiping one of the tears that threatens to overflow your lashes. You slap his hand away but he brings your tear to his lips, licking the digit slowly. The knot in your stomach tightens further.

“Come on, Y/N, this little dance is getting old. Why won’t you just admit it? You want me, just say it.” You feel that nauseating twist of emotion in your chest, arrogant ass. You want to swing, to cuss him out, but you feel yourselves balancing on the ledge between safe and new again.

Instead you ask, “What… Are you saying, Kazu?” You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. You’ve been dreading this. He sighs, leaning his head back with a curt laugh. “You were always slow to notice things, huh.” He says to the ceiling. “Such a sadist under that cute facade…”

He takes a step back, giving you some breathing room. “Now don’t get me wrong, I do love the chase, but after so long… I can’t understand why you’re still running…” “... Kazu… You… Uh, we…” You let out a frustrated sound. “It’s just… I’m not gonna be another notch in your belt… Another name on your list of fair maidens… What we have is special… I don’t want to lose you… as a friend.” The words pour out reluctantly. Choppy after being bitten back so many times.

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Maybe I really need to spell it out for you. I’m serious about this, us.” You feel your face heat anew with his sudden confession. “Frankly, I don’t know how I could make it any more obvious to you. That I want you, I need you. I’ve wanted you all to myself for years.” “You sure have a funny way of showing it, fucking anything that bats their eyelashes at you.” You feel tears threaten to spill.

“Baby, I have needs… It’s awful, but I meant it. Those other girls didn’t mean anything to me. But you… This-” He gestures to the completed outline of his tattoo, “It’s a piece of you, I’ll get to have it with me forever. Sorry for tricking you into putting a collar on me. I wasn’t sure how else to get such a selfish owner to claim their pet.” His mouth ticks into a smile, like he’s told some inside joke with himself.

“I’m sick of waiting… God, don’t just stand there.” He averts his gaze from you, blush dusting his cheeks. “Kazu… I… If this is some sick joke I’ll never forgive you.” “Joke?!” He leans in dramatically. “What other motherfucker is out there making me blush?! I feel SICK.” He snaps back.

“I… Kazu, if you know, if you can read me so clearly, don’t make me be the first to say it… Just-” He’s over you in seconds. His lips parting yours in a feverish kiss. You don't hold back, meeting him there, lips, hands, teeth. You are careful not to touch your masterpiece on the side of his neck, running a hand through his hair and another up the exposed skin of the toned muscles of his core. One of his hands is tangled in the hair at the back of your head, adding pressure to the kiss.

He moans into your mouth, “fuck my neck, it hurts… It… feels really good.” This sparks something in you, leaning into the kiss with more passion. You nip his lip and then smooth the irritated flesh with a firm swipe of your tongue before returning to the kiss. He groans at the action, pressing you up onto the counter of the cabinet, grinding against you. You feel the bulge in his pants against your stomach. So hot that the warmth seeps through the layers of fabric between you.

He’s brought a hand down to play with the hem of your shirt, the light touches tickle. The two of you break your kiss, gasping for air. He chuckles, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that.” “Yeah… That was… amazing.” You look up at his hazy eyes, thick heavy lashes, that perfect beauty mark. You crane your neck and place a soft kiss there, the intrusive thought that's haunted you for years finally fulfilled.

The air is heavy, like the space around you was holding its breath. You move first, locking your mouth on the other side of his neck where the skin is unmarred. You swirl your tongue over the sensitive skin, giving a nip and sucking gently on the skin. “Fuck, you’re gonna mark me there too? I never pegged you as the possessive type. Letting me run around all these years.” His voice is low and lazy. You hum into his neck feeling the bulge against your stomach twitch.

“And the jealous type.” You add, before moving lower and repeating the process, crimson blooming on the skin of his neck as you nip and suck and bite your way down his collar bone. “That feels so fucking good baby.” He grabs you by the waist and lifts you, maneuvering you back to your tattoo bed, pulling you to straddle his lap as he sits. He takes advantage of the new position to tug you firmly by the hair, exposing your neck to him. “My turn” he says, licking a hot line up your jugular.

He kisses down the side of your neck. “Mmm yeah, Kazu.” He sucks gently before his teeth graze your skin, the pressure building with a wet, slurping noise. You groan, it hurts in a delicious way that makes your stomach flip. “Mmmore, more Kazu.” You whine. “So needy.” He says into the throbbing spot before moving lower, making a twin bruise there, pulling your head back further, the skin taut. “Nnng” “Yeah babe, fuck.”

He goes lower, eyes locking on the small circle of raised skin, slightly pink from irritation and itching. He licks the bug bite, making you yelp. “Fuck, thats.” He licks again, the spot warming, the sensation is strange. Tingly, itchy. He starts to suck, “O-oh my go- that’s-” It feels strange but not bad, like scratching an itch too hard where it hurts in the most satisfying way.

You feel that knot again in your stomach, wetness spreading between your legs. You lower yourself in his lap, grinding into him. The friction sends sparks of pleasure through you. “You like that? Little freak.” “You’re one- to talk- you’re the one sucking-” his hand releases your hair, bringing both to your hips, grinding into you hard. “Ah- ha- fuck babe you’re so hard.” You say breathily.

“Mmm yeah, that’s your fault.” He says into your chest. He drags you down again, you feel the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably wet. “Kazu… Please I…” “Say it, say what you want baby, it’s done.” “Kazu… I want you.” “Mmm finally.” He flips you easily, laying you on the tattoo bed with a harsh crinkle of the paper. He pins you there, eyes devouring your flushed face and he pretty marks he’s left on your neck. Your hand comes up to absently play with his earring. It jingles between your fingers.

“You're so… Pretty, Kazu.” “Yeah?” He tugs your shirt up, over your head, letting it gather by your wrists, using it to pin you there with one hand. “You’re so, god. You’re so beautiful Y/N. I mean it. You don’t know how long you made me wait.” He trails a finger up your side, a featherlight touch that makes you squirm. “Hmm, ticklish, Y/N?” He asks, mimicking your voice from last night. “Dick” You laugh. He traces the edge of your bra, making your breath hitch.

He continues, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You adjust yourself, wriggling under his grip, offering a better view of your chest. “So eager Y/N.” “So slow, Kazu.” your mouth ticks up in a challenging smile. When he sees it his own smile turns animalistic.

He rips the undergarment up roughly, your chest bouncing free as he forces it up to join your shirt around your wrists. He eyes your chest hungrily before using his free hand to palm one of your breasts, massaging it. The flesh spilling out in the space between his fingers. He drops his head to lick around the sensitive flesh of the other.

He presses a knee between your legs, knocking them apart harshly to give himself space. You welcome it, finally having something to apply pressure where you really want it. You grind up and down his leg building the feeling there. He gives a hard flat lick over the sensitive bud on your chest before sucking, grazing his teeth along the puckered skin. “Oh fuck, Kazu, that feels so good!”

You toss your head back, closing your eyes, savoring the feeling growing. Your body feels heavy and fuzzy, a pleasant buzz in your head. He releases your abused nipple with a pop, the skin pink and glistening with his saliva. He gives a soft blow, savoring the view of the bud pebbling in the cold air.

He grinds his knee into you, earning him a breathy whine. “Kazu, please. I want you.” “Hmm? You made me wait so long I plan to make it last.” “Ha- nng- and I’m the sadist?” He releases your breast and trails a hand down your stomach, toying with the button of your pants. You grind up his leg, encouraging him to continue. “Patience, you vicious little thing.” He chides.

He pops the button of your pants open with one hand and drags the zipper down painfully slowly. He pulls the waist of your pants down, the task proving to be difficult one handed. You raise your hips to help him shimmy them down your thighs. “Fuck” He releases your wrists to pull your pants all the way off, tossing them to the floor. You start to sit up before he shoves you back down by your wrists, situating himself between your legs again.

“Now, where were we?” “Well, I was falling asleep while you took your sweet time undressing me.” “Oh, well that won’t do. Let’s wake you up, shall we?” He trails his free hand up your thigh, squeezing the fleshy part at the top, humming with approval. He traces his thumb against the edge of your panties, dragging down a glistening trail of your wetness. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, babe.” He swipes his thumb up again, gathering some of your juices as he brings it to his lips, sucking on the digit. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah? You like it, sicko?” “Mmm, love it. Let me taste you, pretty girl.” He slides down the tattoo bed, dragging you with him. He spreads your legs apart, hooking them over his shoulders. You take this chance to free yourself from the clothing around your wrist, snapping off the latex gloves in the process.

He runs a finger up and down your slit through the fabric of your drenched panties. “Fuck” He pulls the garment to the side watching you twitch and flutter being exposed to the cool air of the studio. He brings his head down, lapping up the wetness between your legs.

You can’t hold back the moan that comes out with the sensation, tangling your fingers in his silky hair. “Mmm babe you taste even better than I expected.” He says from between your legs. You can’t string together a coherent sentence. Between the teasing and his skilled tongue circling your clit, you feel yourself tumbling towards release.

“Ah- Kazu- ha- I’m-” The words come out high and breathy as you feel like you’ve been dipped in honey, your limbs heavy and warm. Right as you’re at the brink of your orgasm his movements slow. You let out a frustrated whine. You swear you can feel him smiling there, between your legs.

“Wha- Why?” “Hmm? Is something the matter?” He teases. “You’re… insufferable.” You pant. “Am I?” He challenges, bringing a finger up to your hole, testing the water there. Your breath hitches as he pushes it deeper, his long fingers curling in a tantalizing way.

He licks the sensitive bundle of nerves again, swirling his tongue. You feel the sensation building again. “Kazu, please, I want you.” You whine. “I know you do, pretty girl. I’m getting you ready, just relax.” “How can I relax when you’re-” He adds another finger and you feel the stretch before a third is inserted. You moan, grinding into him, fucking yourself on his face and fingers.

You feel the tension rising again, your breathing getting heavier, the knot in your stomach about to snap. As you feel the sensation swelling, fuzziness crawling over your skin, he removes his fingers, leaving you so empty. You choke on a frustrated cry as you feel tears prickle in your eyes, having been denied twice.

“Kazu, please, I’m so close. Let me come.” “Eager as ever, darling.” You hear the tearing of something not-quite paper. You peel your eyes open, looking down at him. A small, square wrapper reflects the light in a metallic way, dangling from his mouth. The sound of a zipper directs your eyes down to his pants. He lets the clothing drop to his thighs. There is a prominent wet spot spreading through the fabric of his underwear beneath. You can see his size through the thin material. It is formidable.

You eat up the view, his flexed abdomen, the defined lines low on his stomach that disappear beneath his waistband, his blown out pupils, his flushed face, the hickeys you left him on one side of his neck, and the tattoo outline on the other. You feel a deep throb inside of you.

“Kazu, baby, you look so good.” He leans over you, brushing his lips to yours, “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so fucking hot.” You taste yourself on his lips as you draw him in to deepen the kiss. He pulls back, an hungry look in his eye. He makes a show of pulling his waistband down, freeing himself from the restraints of the undergarment. Your eyes widen.

Maybe he wasn’t exaggerating all of those times he’s bragged about his ‘big dick energy.’ “Think you can take it, princess?” He goads with a lazy smile. He gives himself a few firm strokes before rolling the condom over his sizable member. “Think you can actually make me come this time?” You quip back. He steals a quick peck from that bratty mouth that he loves.

“Mmm, this time, and the next time, and the next time.” He punctuates each word with a kiss to your jaw then your throat and your chest. He positions himself over you, “so if you need a break, feel dizzy, or if it’s too painful, just say the word.” He imitates your voice, repeating your earlier statement back to you. “Shut up and fuck me.” You say breathily, taking a firm grip of his silky hair and pulling him into a feverish kiss.

He moans into the kiss as you nip at his lower lip. You feel his tip, prodding at your entrance. You grind down on it, urging him to continue. You feel that delicious stretch as you adjust to his size. It’s been far too long since your last time and he is huge. His ministrations earlier had done little to prepare you for his actual size.

He moves slowly, working with you as you grind up to meet him. You can’t fight back the little noises bubbling up in your throat any more. Small whines and whimpers. “Fuck, good girl, let me hear you.” You moan louder as you feel your walls stretching to take him.

You can feel it, the tip pushing against your cervix, making your breath hitch. He pauses there. A string of praise and profanities spilling from his lips. “I’m gonna move.” He pants. He props himself up over your face, looking deeply into your eyes. He’s slow, so excruciatingly slow. You feel like he could split you open. Your face twists in pain and pleasure.

He peppers your cheeks and forehead with light kisses, a jumble of, “good girl, you’re taking me so well, you’re so tight, fuck, babe you feel so good, you’re gorgeous.” Are whispered with every kiss. “Look at you, pretty girl.” He says, staring at the space where the two of you are joined. Your hazy eyes drift there too. To the swollen, sensitive spot that is sucking him in. You’ve almost taken all of him.

“Y/N, I…” He bucks unconsciously. You gasp sharply. “I can’t… It feels so good.” He groans, bucking again, so close to being buried inside of you. You whine, completely stuffed. He moves, shallow ruts, picking up speed. “Fuck, Kazu, you’re so deep, you’re- it’s so big.” You whimper. You flutter around him, making his movement stutter. He continues with fervor. He’s so deep, with each thrust you feel him brushing past that spot that makes your toes curl before pressing into your cervix.

He adjusts his position, bringing your legs up to hook over his shoulders, folding you in half. He grabs the edge of the tattoo bed, gripping it so hard his knuckles turn white. You cry out as he buries himself even deeper. Your cry melts into a moan as the rush of pleasure spreads from the pain.

You can hardly see him through the blur in your eyes. You feel yourself unraveling as he fucks freely into you in this new position. Each stroke is more intense than the last. Lewd, wet noises spill from your puffy entrance with each thrust. You feel it coming, huge and intense. Your arms and legs are blanketed in tingles, your head is light and dizzy, release hurtling towards you.

“Uhhng, Kazu, don’t stop, I’m gonna.” He grunts, snapping his hips into you, fucking you down into the crinkled paper of the tattoo bed. He brings a hand down, grabbing one of your breasts, bullying your nipple with a harsh pinch. The sensation is too much. You cry out, clenching around him, vision going white as your release washes over you. A slurry of curses and affection pour from you as the waves of pleasure wrack your body. He continues his deep, cruel thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm, drawing it out of you.

You flutter and clench around him, a whimper then laugh leaves the man over you. “Y/N, You’re sucking me in, you want me so bad, huh, baby? Fuck, I’m gonna come, pretty girl. You’re gonna make me come.” He mutters, his thrusts becoming frantic, your bruised cervix opening, swallowing him deep inside of you.

“Oh, FUCK!” With one final, brutal thrust he’s pouring himself into you. He latches onto your collar bone, biting hard. You yelp, feeling the sting of his teeth breaking the skin and his tongue swirling.

He moans, grinding into you, riding out his own release. Stuffing the condom full of his seed inside of you. Fucking into your womb. His grip on the tattoo bed loosens, as he lays himself over you. Lazily thrusting. He snakes his arms around you, embracing you as he grinds the last of his cum into you.

You bring a hand up to play with his fluffy hair as he slackens his jaw, planting sloppy, wet kisses over the bite mark. Your chests rise with heavy breaths, reveling in your shared releases. Your limbs feel like lead and your head is still fuzzy. Every nerve in your body is shot, tingling pleasantly.

“That was so much better than I could’ve imagined.” He hums. “Yeah… That was… Worth the wait.” You say, burying your face into the crook of his neck opposite his tattoo. “I think that’s enough of a break.” You laugh as he kisses your temple. “Mmm, yeah, let’s finish this up.” He gestures vaguely to the outline of his tattoo.

“I’ve got some big plans for the night.” He says in a low voice, pulling out from you as you quiver around the emptiness, missing him. “I should probably finish what I’ve started this time, and the next time, and the next time.” You tease him with his earlier flirtations, earning you a playful jostle. You reach absently over the edge of the tattoo bed, feeling around for your discarded garments.

“This is gonna be a long night.” He laughs, passing you your clothing as he grabs some paper towels from your station. cleaning himself up. “Promise?” You joke, masking a deeper desire. The animalistic way he smiles at you is answer enough.

#Kazutora Hanemiya x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora smut #kazutora x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tr x reader #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tr smut #tr x you #carminecherry fics

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jxsterr · 3 months

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ghhghgb pre calamity zelink but zelda grows a quiet rebellious streak after her father forbids her from engaging with sheikah technology and link volunteers as her ‘grew up as a regular village boy so of course he’s a terrible influence’ sidekick so they sneak around and do all sorts of things kids their age do because they yearn to feel at least a little bit normal despite all the pressure on their shoulders. also because i’m still hung up on why the hell his royal cap was in her room

i’m a slowburn truther but hear me out

i’m talking about link soothing an upset and understandably frustrated zelda as she rants about how unfair being forbidden to engage in something she enjoys by suggesting they simply just sneak out and enjoy it anyway. by telling her that he knows the patrolling routines well enough from being around the other guards so often that he can evade them. that he’d take the brunt of it if they were ever caught and watches how stars burst in her eyes at the prospect. he tells her that if rhoam is willing to void her of any sort of hobbies, any kind of relief from the stresses of her duty that they will simply make it themselves

so they learn to sneak around. he takes her out late at night to marvel and prod at the inactive guardians, jotting down notes and making sketches of the mechanisms as he keeps watch for her. she sneaks into the guards quarters to see him whenever she’s been too caught up in prayers and duties for him to be around. he sneaks into her bedroom to sprawl out on her bed while she dishes the castle gossip idly or drags him into her study and miserably details her struggles at growing a silent princess herself. they essentially become each other’s source of respite

but you know what i eat up the most?? them having the thought that. damn. they’ll never get to experience what a lot of kids their age get to because of their positions and responsibilities. they’ll never get to experience proper physical affection from another person, or steal wine from the kitchens and deal with the consequences of being a little too overzealous with it, or even experience what it’s like to be kissed. they’re just two kids desperate to feel normal just for a little while

so they’re like fuck it. the world could genuinely end tomorrow so why not start ticking off the list. they’re two people stuck in a shitty situation against their own volition who’ve grown close because of it and trust each other with their lives. why not help each other live a little

so they do it. they let tentative fingers tangle themselves whenever they dare stand near, cuddle on zelda’s bed after a long day until they fall asleep by accident and have to figure out a gameplan to get him the hell out without being suspicious about it, steal a bottle of wine to take turns drinking from on the battlement between her room and her study and cough at how damn strong it is because they didn’t realise you had to sip it, and exchange lingering kisses behind the safety of her bedroom door because why not. they lose even when they’re playing good, so why not take a little bit of control of their lives and do something for them when the calamity could appear at literally any point. they may as well live every day like their last when there’s so much to lose and nothing to gain.

it doesn’t even matter if they catch feelings from any of it anyway because they can figure it out if they even get past ganon. nothing is for certain when her cursed powers refuse to answer her so what the hell does it matter. so what if it starts with kisses that only occur occasionally when they’ve stolen wine again and their hearts can’t seem to stay off their sleeves for long enough to realise just how close zelda is sat next to him. so what if they use it once while completely sober to reassure the other in a last ditch attempt to calm them down and it just kinda sticks. so what if it becomes a game of how many they can sneak in small fleeting moments where every second counts and they only just about avoid getting caught. it’s a little bit of fun and goddess knows they need something good for once

they’ll figure out what all of this means after everything—and that’s if there’s still anything to come back to

#yes this is incredibly self indulgent shoot me #also idk what happened to the formatting i am sorry #zelink #legend of zelda #link #loz link #loz zelda #zelda and link #princess zelda #zelda x link #loz breath of the wild #pre calamity #zelink analysis

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untitled-tmnt-blog · 5 months

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I stayed up way too late last night sketching these guys. They were on my mind, so what else could I do?

Based on a few of the 100ft ficlets by @dandylovesturtles:

Leo gets his picture taken

Donnie tries a french fry

Raph and Mikey cuddle

#rottmnt #100 feet and a world away #rise of the tmnt #art #my art #sketch #100ft #tmnt #I did have to make some assumptions as far as where their scars are and what they look like #I don't expect them to be accurate #but the idea is there right?#my post #almost forgot that tag

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vxntagedior · 1 year

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what about something where xavier has one of his dreams that something bad will happen to you? so then he’s not letting you out of his sight and saves you from whatever it is, maybe like the gargoyle situation. and then he has to admit that he’s been following you to make sure you’re safe and he’s a little embarrassed but obviously reader thinks it’s sweet. i think non-established relationship, just classmates. if this is too vague or you’re not feeling it, please ignore, no worries!! 🫶🏻

knight in shining armor

summary | xavier comes clean on why he's been following you lately

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!reader

warning | platonic relationship, angst, fluff ending

word count | 721

Xavier stood in watch in horror seeing the sword plunged through your stomach. Trying to make his way towards you, he felt like this an invisible barrier stopping him from getting to you.

Watching as you fell to the ground, holding onto your stomach tightly, he slowly watch as the life drained from your eyes.

“Y/n!” He heard someone scream through all the chaos.

Jumping from under his covers, Xavier let out a gasp, his hand over his heart. Sweat covered his body. Running his hand through his hair, he let out a shaky breath. Tears started to well in his eyes, the last time he saw someone die in his dream, it happened shortly after in the real world.

Xavier was slumped over his desk, his pencil sketching over his paper, staying up for the rest of the night knowing he wasn’t going back to sleep.

Staring at the picture in front of him, looking at the scenery, seeing how familiar it looked to him. Seeing the gargoyle was what made it like for him.

Xavier practically made his goal to make sure nothing would happen to you. That following up Monday, he sat next to you in every class the two of you had together, luckily which was more than half. Luckily the two of you ran with the same group of people so it wasn’t odd that he was constantly with you.

But as the school day came to an end, that was where he started running into problems. You had your own clubs to attend to while he had his, but having the same friends, he entrusted them to look out for you when he wasn’t there.

By the second week you knew something was up. You and Xavier were good friends but you could tell he was constantly lingering in the background. Keeping quiet about the situation, you let him continue whatever he was doing.

“How have you been Xavier?” You smirked, looking at him from across the table. Xavier froze slightly before looking at you. Since his dream, you noticed the shift in his behavior. He started to become more protective of you, and apparently you were the only one. Divina noticed it was, and started to tease about how he liked you and couldn’t stay away.

“I-I’m uh good.” He nodded his head, trying to look anywhere but you.

“Have you been dreaming okay?” Fuck, he cursed himself in his head, after all this time thinking he was being distrect, you probably caught on to what he was doing.

“Not really.” He said truthfully, shyly looking back up at you. You stayed quiet, just letting him continue to talk. “The other night, I uh, had this dream about you, I don’t I could even call it a dream, more of a nightmare.”

Sensing his distress, you placed your hand on top of his shaking ones. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if it’s hurting you this bad, I understand.”

Even as he was trying to tell you that something was going to happen to you, you had his interests in heart.

Xavier closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath, slowly letting it out before opening his eyes back up and continuing.

“You got hurt, like really bad.” He confessed, “And since I saw that I’ve been around you trying to make sure nothing bad would happen because I don’t want to lose you.”

Finally looking back up at you, he saw you getting out of your seat, making your way to his side of the table. He didn’t expect you to hug him, his eyes wide, before melting in your touch, reciprocating the hug.

“Thank you.” You whispered into his ear.

“You're not weirded out by this.” He said in shock.

“Xavier, you’re looking out for me, making sure I’m safe, it’s far from weird, it’s kind.” You smiled, “I’m thankful for someone like you in my life, you’re like my knight in shining armor.”

The joke seemed to make him smile, something you haven’t seen in a while.

“You know you’re my best friend right.” He said.

“And you're mine, we look out for each other.” You nudged his shoulder, “Next time I get a scary dream about you, I’ll protect you.”

“My hero.” He said dreamingly before laughing.

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #xavier thorpe #wednesday #wednesday addams

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limedane21 · 1 year

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It's God's Will [Vash x Reader][1/3]

Word Count: ~3.5k Description: The gang wakes up after a night of celebration. Problem is no one remembers the night and there might have been a wedding? A/N: Lowkey a crackfic but it got out of hand. No Roberto, he didn’t fit into the story so he isn’t in this one lol. [Part 2] [Part 3]

You didn’t want to wake up, willing yourself back into the dream you were slowly rousing from. You haven’t had such a nice dream in a while, even as you realized how actually bizarre it was as you replayed it in your head. Wolfwood was officiating you and Vash’s wedding with Meryl being the only attendee, cheering on from the church benches. Your bed was so comfortable and the sun warming you just right, you could almost imagine Vash lying behind you as you pretended the dream was real.

Sadly you aren’t able to stay asleep so you opened your eyes. You were in a hotel room you had no recollection of getting into the night before. It was very musty with a good amount of dust and rusted metal. In front of you was another bed, untouched, with a dresser between. The sun shone through the only window above the dresser, casting light on the floor where you saw your pack and boots and a very familiar-looking red coat.

Suddenly you felt a breath behind you making the hairs on the back of your neck stand. You cautiously turned your head over to see Vash, facing you as he slept on his stomach. You blinked trying to distinguish memory, reality, and dream. You slowly flipped over and spotted the ring on Vash’s finger. Your confusion grew as you looked to your own hand to see you too had a ring. They were both clearly part of a pair with red inlays that decorated the simple gold bands.

You had to figure out what happened last night. All you know for certain is that after everyone saved the town from a gang overlord, the townsfolk treated you to a party where everyone got wasted. And there might have been a wedding? Not wanting to explain that if you had to, you slipped off your ring. You carefully grasped Vash’s hand and slowly removed his ring. His fingers twitched and you knew your time was short. Once the ring was off, you quickly left the bed.

You and Vash were still wearing your clothes from the night before and with all your stuff on the floor you imagined you and Vash probably immediately went to bed. You stared at the rings in your hand, questions floating in your head. The weirdness of your dream could be explained by the alcohol, so does that mean it did happen? Will anyone remember? Is Wolfwood even certified to perform weddings?

You heard Vash take a deep inhale and start to move in the sheets. Panicking, you quickly messed up the sheets on the other bed, hiding the rings in your hand behind you as you sat on said bed.

When you looked back to Vash, he was yawning, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning,” you greeted, sticking the rings in your back pocket, “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm, yeah,” Vash smiled, sketching out, “I had a really nice dream.”

You couldn’t help but smile back at Vash’s cute face, “That’s good.”

You took a look out the window as you heard Vash sit up. It looked to be late morning or early afternoon.

“What about you?” Vash yawned.

“Oh, I slept well—” You turned back to Vash, your eyes widening.

Vash’s prosthetic arm was mostly missing, everything from the elbow down was gone. He looked at you confused before following your eye line. Lifting the missing arm, he just stared at it, probably trying to remember where it was.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” You prompted.

“I remember drinking,” Vash said before putting his hand behind his head as he turned to you smiling, “But that’s about it. You?”

You shook your head until you are a hundred percent sure what happened you will not bother Vash with the maybe-not-a-dream wedding, “Not really. I only remember early in the night. Mostly just us drinking at the bar and you had your arm then.”

Vash hummed before suddenly paling. You lept up, knowing that was Vash’s ‘I had too much to drink’ face. You grabbed his mostly missing arm as he put a hand over his mouth. You made it to the bathroom in time and left to give Vash some privacy. You quickly found a small bag to store the rings in and hid them at the bottom of your pack as Vash emptied his stomach.

“How about you relax in bed for a bit while I get you some breakfast?” you said as he walked back into the room.

Vash sat down on his bed, “Yeah, maybe see if the others are up and know anything?”

“I’ll see,” you grabbed your boots and sat next to Vash as you put them on, “Though I don’t even know if we are all in the same hotel. I just hope we paid for this and didn’t just barge into a random room and fell asleep.”

Vash laughed which made you smile, you were hoping to keep his spirits up.

You stood up and waved at Vash, grabbing your pack, “I’ll be back soon. Take it easy.”

You exited the room and looked down both ways down the hall. You really don’t remember getting here. You turned right and walked to the end of the hall. Luckily there was a staircase you went down and walked to the clerk.

“Morning,” you greeted.

“Oh god it's you,” the clerk replied.

You paused, “Uh… I’m sober now? Please tell me I paid for the room, if not—”

“No, no you did,” your shoulders relaxed, “But your whole group could barely form a sentence. I was shocked you all could get to your rooms.”

“Oh so everyone’s here?” that made things easier, “Has anyone else come down yet?”

“Nope,” the clerk shook his head, “You’re the first.”

“When did we come in?” you needed to get some sure of timeline started.

“About five am,” he replied.

You nodded and bid the clerk a good day before heading out into the morning sun. You put your hand over your eyes, you may not get as hungover as everyone else but your eyes still didn’t like how bright the sun was. You decided to go to the last place you remembered, the bar. There weren’t a lot of people out as you walked, probably because of the big party that happened the night before.

The bar was a mess when you entered. Many of the chairs and tables were overturned and puddles of you didn’t even want to know littered the floor. You saw the bartender from yesterday cleaning glasses behind the counter so you walked up to her.

“Morning, Y/N,” she smiled as you approached, “I hope you aren’t too ill. Seems like everyone else is.”

You chuckled, “Nah, I’m fine. I do have some questions though.”

“Oh? I hope they aren’t hard ones,” the bartender replied.

You leaned up on the counter, “Depends. Do you remember what happened last night? Specifically me and my friends?”

“Ah, well. You all stayed here for a while, drinking. Drinking a lot. The undertaker would come and go later in the night. Honestly, around one AM your whole group disappeared, no one knew where y’all went. We just assumed you and your friends went to the hotel.” the bartender said, “Oh, I do remember that little reporter taking a lot of photos that night, maybe they’ll have the answers to your questions?”

You felt your eyes light up in both happiness and dread. On one hand, you’ll learn if your dream was real (and you are believing more and more, it is) but on the other, you don’t want the others to remember. You and Vash were good friends sure, but you didn’t know if he felt anything more like you do. And you certainly didn’t want to ruin what you have. But on the other, other hand, you really needed to find where Vash’s arm went.

You thanked the bartender and went back outside. You figured you would talk to Meryl about the photos later. You doubted she got them developed while blackout drunk. You found a small sandwich shop and ordered a few for you and Vash. On your way back, you see a dark figure stumbling around on the porch outside the hotel. It was Wolfwood.

“I see you lived,” you said, walking up to him as he pulled out a smoke.

He just grunted in return.

You didn’t want to ask but you had to, “Do you remember anything from last night?”

His brows furrowed, “Not really, I remember the bar.”

You pressed your lips together, how did the majority of your group just lose several hours, “Well, Vash is missing his arm so if you remember anything that’ll be helpful.”

His eyes widened, “Needle-noggin lost his arm?” he laughed, “That idiot. Wait, you’ve seen him?”

You definitely didn’t like the glint in the priest’s eyes, “Yes, I’ve seen him,” you tersely replied before heading into the hotel, trusting you’ll get nothing more from the undertaker.

“Hey, wait for me” he called out, following you.

You found your hotel room and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” Vash called from inside.

“Wait a minute,” Wolfwood started, “How do you know what room Vash is in?”

You ignored him as you opened the unlocked door and walked through it.

“Ohhhh, I see,” Wolfwood smirked as he walked in with you.

You turned around and glared at him to shut up which thankfully he did if only to grin at you, signaling he wasn’t done messing with you. Vash was sitting up in bed already. It was weird not seeing the prosthetic. You sat next to him and pulled out one of the sandwiches, unwrapping it and handing it to Vash. He immediately started scarfing it down.

“Careful, you wouldn’t want you to throw up again,” you cautioned as you unwrapped your own sandwich.

“So,” Wolfwood started, leaning against the far wall with his cross, “How’d you lose your arm, Needle-noggin?”

“I don’t remember,” Vash replied, peeking inside the bag you put on your lap and grabbing another sandwich.

“Does anyone remember last night?” Wolfwood asked, crossing his arms.

Vash was struggling to unwrap the sandwich so you set aside yours and took it, unwrapping it for him. He smiled and muttered a quick ‘thank you’ before digging in.

You turned back to Wolfwood and shrugged, “Maybe Meryl? She’s the only one who I haven’t seen yet.”

With that, a loud slam of a door sounded in the hall outside you and Vash’s room. Everyone’s heads turned and Wolfwood pushed off the wall and walked over to see what was going on outside.

“Oh hey, Wolfwood,” you heard Meryl’s voice outside the room.

You couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation as you finished your sandwich. You glanced over at Vash, to find him looking at you. You were immediately lost in his blue eyes before noticing his bedhead. His hair was going in every which direction so you ran your fingers through it, hoping to fix it. It didn’t help much but Vash hummed contently, his eyes closing.

Meryl and Wolfwood returned to the room and snickered at you and Vash. You just glared as Vash waved to the two.

“Hello, Meryl!” he said.

“Where the hell did your arm go?” Meryl asked, pointing at Vash’s missing arm, apparently that wasn’t part of the conversation outside.

“Uh, I lost it?” Vash laughed, rubbing the back of his head, “Do you remember anything?”

Meryl facepalmed before answering, “No… Most of last night is lost to me.”

“Great so everyone got blackout drunk,” Wolfwood said, sitting on the bed across from you and Vash.

“I already asked the bartender this morning if she knew what happened,” you explained what you found out, “She said we left at one am and the clerk downstairs said we checked in at five. Which means we are missing quite a few hours.”

Everyone was silent as they were trying to remember those hours. Vash was peeking into the sandwich bag again.

“Hey, Meryl,” she turned to you, “The bartender said you took a lot of photos, do you have the film?”

“It should be in my room,” Meryl said, “Do you think there’s a development place in town?”

“There’s one,” Vash looked around for a second before pointing in a random direction, “That way.”

Meryl clasped her hands together, “Great, you can go and drop the film off. I need to write a report on what happened last night with the whole gang thing.”

With that, Meryl spun around and left the room. Vash was back digging into the bag, pulling out the last sandwich. He stared at it lost for a second before you plucked it out of his hand and started unwrapping it. This one was yours but you can get a snack later. At least Vash is eating, you reasoned.

“Are you well enough to go out?” you asked him, handing the unwrapped sandwich back to him.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me,” Vash replied, taking a big bite into his now third sandwich.

“Now you’re making me hungry,” Wolfwood commented, getting up from the bed, “I’m going to find something to eat. Let me know how that arm hunt goes.”

As Wolfwood left, Meryl returned with the film in hand and handed it to you, “Let me know as soon as you find anything, alright? My room number is 221.”

“Will do,” Vash replied, as you put the film roll into your pack.

“Thanks, bye," With that Meryl left, leaving your room door open.

You shook your head and got up from the bed, grabbing Vash's boots that were scattered on the floor. You set them in front of Vash and helped him put them on, lightly smacking his hand away when he tried to do it himself.

"I'm pretty useless without my arm, aren't I?" Vash said with a sad smile on his lips.

"That's not true," you immediately replied, you hated when Vash would get all self-loathing, "I'm just helping you out since you had a rough morning. Besides, I need you to show me where the film development place is."

"It hasn’t been that bad of a day, " Vash countered, "Waking up with you sl—" he cut himself off.

"Hmm?" You prompted, finishing off tying his boots and looking up at him.

"Ah, nothing," Vash wasn’t looking at you, "It's nothing."

Vash was hiding something but you decided not to press. He may not be good at hiding things but if he decided not to say something you’ll never get it out of him. You stood up and grabbed Vash's coat off the floor, patting off the dirt and dust. Vash got up from the bed and let you slip it on. While you slung your pack over your shoulder, Vash took his glasses off the dresser and put them on, grabbing his own pack.

You both checked out at the front desk and made your way outside. The truck was parked nearby and Vash went, putting his pack in the back. He returned to your right side, his eyes squinting in the sun. His hair glowed in the sunlight and you became entranced as you looked at him. He noticed you staring and smiled at you. You smiled awkwardly back, embarrassed you were caught. His left shoulder moved and confusion flashed across Vash’s face as he remembered his arm was gone. He then walked behind you to be at your left and took your hand in his.

“Wha—”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Vash laughed, dragging you down the street.

“How far is the development place anyway?” you asked; you and Vash now matching pace, hands still together.

“Not too far,” Vash replied, “Say, what do you want to do while we wait?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “I might get a snack soon since you ate one of my sandwiches.”

Vash’s left shoulder moved again and his expression soured a bit, “Sorry about that. You should have said something.”

“It’s fine,” you and Vash turned a corner, “I still have some double dollars left to splurge. Surprisingly, it wasn’t all spent on booze yesterday.”

“That’s good,” Vash stopped, “Oh, here we are.”

You looked up at the worn sign that read ‘Phillip’s Photography and more’. It was a smaller shop near the outskirts of town, mostly made of metal and sandstone. A bell rang as you pushed the door in, holding it open for Vash. The customer area only had a few chairs and the front desk and the walls were covered in photos. Behind the counter were several printers and a separate room for photo development. You walked up to the counter as an older man came from the back room, ink covering his apron.

“Hello,” you greeted, pulling out the film from your pack, “I was hoping you could develop this film as soon as possible.”

“Hmm,” the man looked at the film roll, “There’s a fee for rush orders.”

“Ah, please,” Vash whined, “Those photos could help me find my arm and we aren’t exactly made of money here.”

The man looked up, his serious expression changing in an instant, “Oh my, I didn’t realize our savior was here. Of course, I’ll get this film developed in fifteen minutes, no charge.”

Before you or Vash could respond the man rushed into the back. You turned to Vash.

“Just give people the puppy eyes and they’ll give you anything,” you commented.

Vash smiled nervously, his hand on the back of his head, “I just didn’t want you to pay the fee.”

A bang on the window behind you made you jump. Vash and you saw several children waving. Vash waved back and walked out to greet them. You stood at the doorway as the children excitedly talked to Vash about everything and anything.

“Hey, what happened to your arm,” one of the children noticed the loose sleeve.

“I seemed to have lost it last night,” Vash said before kneeling to their level, “Say, do you think you can look around and see if you can find it? I’ll get you all some ice cream if you are able to find it.”

The children immediately became detectives and started the search, splitting off in every direction and recruiting more to the search party.

“It’s going to be a lot of ice cream if they find it,” you said.

Vash made an eek sound before turning back to you, “I didn’t think that through.”

You sighed, the puppy eyes working on you, “I’ll cover it. I just hope it’s in town and not buried in the sand somewhere.”

“What do you think happened anyway?” Vash asked.

You both returned inside and sat on the chairs.

“Well,” you started, figuring how to word it right, “none of us had any wounds. Other than the missing arm,” you quickly added, “So no fights. We might have just partied at some other location. If we find it, that could give us some clues.”

Vash looked at his hand, “It must have been one hell of a party,” he laughed.

You chuckled, “Yeah, the best ones are the ones you don’t remember the next day.”

Several minutes passed as you and Vash waited for the photos. You occasionally saw a child run by the store. Vash had gotten bored and started looking at the photos that littered the walls. You closed your eyes and lightly napped.

You heard the shop owner walk over, “It looks like one of your friends had your arm, Mr. Vash.”

You immediately swung your legs as you got out of your seat and walked to the counter. The shop owner held the photo he was referencing and an envelope with the rest. Plucking the envelope out of his hand, you looked at the photo the owner held out to Vash, who took it and angled it so you both could see it.

The photo was of the group still at the bar, you and Vash were front and center, smiling at the camera with drinks in your hands. In the background, Wolfwood held Vash’s arm above his head, saying something. Clearly, Vash didn’t care that his arm was either stolen or given to the priest.

Vash chuckled, “Do you think Wolfwood remembers what he did with it?”

You shook your head, “I have no idea, maybe showing him the image will jog his memory?”

Before Vash could reply, the gaggle of children busted in and started yelling and grabbing onto Vash’s coat.

“We found it! We found it!” the children yelled, “C’mon, follow me, follow me!”

“Hey, wait a second,” Vash handed you the photo as he tried to keep the children from dragging him out the door, “Y/N!”

“I’ll catch up with you,” you called back, “Go get your arm.”

“Okay, I’ll see—” Vash was dragged out the door before he could finish.

You sighed in relief; you couldn’t have timed it better yourself.

“Congratulations by the way,” the shop owner said, winking at you.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

#vash x reader #vash x gn!reader #vash x you #trigun stampede #vash the stampede #vash

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jarofstyles · 2 years

Text

Carved

Pumpkin carving blurb for the spooky season 🎃 pure fluff and cute.

I hope you enjoy!

1.3k

Check out our Patreon!

——

“You’re going with a very ambitious carving.” Y/N gave his sketch in the pumpkin a cautious gaze. It was a bunch of bats, with a moon. He has chosen it from the stencils they’d found on Pinterest. Y/N herself had chosen a signature face, a classic jagged teeth and triangle eyes and nose.

“Your faith in me is beautiful, honey. Really.” He snarked back, giving her the raised brow signature as he went back to the sharpie in hand, finishing up the last bat wing and placing the cap right back on, daringly holding the pen between his lips. “I think it will be beautiful, really. I haven’t carved a pumpkin since I was a teen.”

The spiel made Y/N sigh softly, well aware of the repeated story she was going to get. It was the same one he had told the cashier at the grocer while they picked up the pumpkin. Harry had said it was damn near blasphemy that they weren’t going to an actual pumpkin patch but it was a bit too late in the season. There wouldn’t be enough big ones left for his taste. So they trotted off to the grocery store to make a night out of it.

In the oven were sugar cookies with the image of pumpkins settled in them, dipped in sugar, along with some experimental pumpkin pie flavored ones that he had thrown haphazardly into the basket. The paycheck had hit and they both were feeling especially brave with money. They had stumbled across a good recipe for some pasta they had eaten earlier, and slightly full tummies only set the mood to be especially cozy.

The fireplace was lit in a soft blaze, the crackle heard in between the pauses in her ‘Fall-ing for you’ playlist playing over the speaker in their house. The pair had been trying to do more things together, wanting to make traditions now that they’d settled into the place. Y/N’s eyes stayed on him fondly as he retold the last apparent traumatic experience in cutting his pumpkin.

“Next thing you know, Niall’s cackling like a lunatic into the quiet room and bam. The knife slips.” He sighed sadly. “Real blood isn’t exactly what we want to have on the pumpkins, I feared. So I took it out and had to wash it, and then go and get 4 stitches,, baby. 4!” He said it with the same amount of enthusiasm he had the first time he told it, which only seemed to make her heart grow fonder. It’s why she never interrupted him. The simple excitement to tell a story was something she loved from him. He wasn’t the most outgoing so to see him be excited about talking was something she adored. Y/N never wanted to dampen that light.

“Oh wow.” She murmured, scooping out the inner guts of the pumpkin into the steel bowl. “That’s why you’ve got the scar between your thumb and index, yeah?” She knew because she laid kisses to it every so often when they were in especially soft moods.

“Mhm.” His reply was muffled by the hot chocolate lifted to his mouth. A slight dollop of whipped cream sat on his nose, making her coo. “What?” His cheeks flushed as she giggled, staying still as she appproached his seated figure and leaned in. He had assumed she was going to give him a kiss, puckering his lips but was met with a wet sensation on his nose. “Oi! What?” He pulled back with a crinkled nose, trying to work out what happened. “Did you just lick me?”

“Yeah.” Her shoulders shrugged as she went back to her pumpkin, going elbow deep to get the insides clean. “Had whipped cream on your nose. Couldn’t wipe it off, and we literally lick each other’s genitals. Don’t be a baby.”

Harry sputtered before melting into a laugh, shaking his head as he wiped his nose with the back of his hand. A bit of whipped cream remained, making him scoff. “Couldn’t even get all of it. Weak.”

Y/N responded with a simple toss of a slimy pumpkin seed in his direction, nailing him in the cheek.

“Heeeey! I was just joking. No need to result in violence.”

—-

“Do not laugh.” His voice was wavering, trying to keep his own laugh in as he looked at the now lit pumpkins on their front porch. “Do not. I see you shoulders shaking. Don’t do it.” Harry couldn’t blame her when she burst into a slew of giggles.

The carving was indeed very ambitious for someone who didn’t carve a pumpkin since he was a teenager. The jagged bats were a bit hard to make out, and the ‘moon’ was hanging on by a very thin thread. Once the animals got to it.. it probably wouldn’t last too long.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She wheezed, leaning into him, laughter muffled by his Halloween sweater. It was to get in the spirit, but right now he was feeling like it mocked him. The pumpkin carving spirits had betrayed him, really… “You tried, that’s what counts. And the cookies came out great!”

“Ah yes, the cookies I placed on the pan and sprinkled sugar on.” He deadpanned, arm a wrapping around her body. “You’re so lucky I love you. Makin’ fun of me and my pumpkin. It’s a fluke. I will get another tomorrow and show you.” He huffed, a puff of hair blowing from the wind of his breath.

“Harry.” She sobered slightly, looking at him in the eyes. “No. No more massacred pumpkins. We can get some and paint on them with nontoxic paint or something for the dining room. It’s a miracle you aren’t injured, considering your last experiences.” Y/N was being fair. An alternative. Considering the neighbors would definitely be able to see the pumpkin and the fake candle showed the extent of the disaster it had showed, he did think the paint would be the less dangerous option.

“Fine. But let’s get the cool pastel paint from the craft store. I’ll go on Pinterest and-“ Y/N’s hand came up to gently cover his lips with her sweater paw’d hand, giving him a look.

“Let’s leave Pinterest alone for a bit, shall we babe? I’m all for creative expression, but we don’t want to scar our guests when they come for the party. Yeah?”

Harry grunted, sinking his teeth lightly into the sweater covered palm to make her squeak. “A bully.” He grumbled as she wiggled out of his hold. “Wouldn’t think so with how sweet you look, but you’re awfully good at being a deceiving little witch.” He followed her inside the house, hot on her heels.

“Hey! At least I’m honest! Let go. Do not tickle me.” She warned, feeling his arms wrap around her as he kicked their front door closed. Instead of fingers in the stomach, she was given a kiss to the neck, and then she felt it. The wet of his mouth, and the buzzing. Blowing raspberries into her sensitive neck, making her squeak and try and escape the vibrating sensation.

Making her escape, she dove behind the couch with narrowed eyes. “That was cold. Low, even for you, Styles.” She hissed, wiping her neck off. The joyous glint in her eye made him smirk though, shaking his shoulders up and down as he simply crossed his arms. “Deserved, as you and your friends say. Besides, you said not to tickle you. I didn’t. Simple payback for earlier and for being a smart mouth little bully.”

Y/N grumbled to herself as she pulled the fuzzy orange throw blanket printed with pumpkins over her shoulders, sitting in front of the fire. “Hmph. You love me and my smart mouth. Next.”

“That I do, little brat. That I do.”

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redriotinggg · 5 months

Text

When Sanji is bitten by a spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid Fruit, the Straw Hats learn there is only one way to cure his illness.

A genuine love confession.

There’s only one crewmate capable of the job.

(read on ao3!!)

—

The Straw Hats have stopped at a small summer island to gather supplies, stock up on necessities, and do any repairs to the Sunny.

When the bulk of the hard work has been done, their captain insists on a bonfire, having found a perfect clearing in the forest.

Sanji’s by the grill, cooking up plenty of burgers, hotdogs, kebabs, and other barbecued treats to fill his crew’s voracious appetites.

He happily watches his crew enjoy their afternoon—Brook’s violin emitting a joyful tune, Nami and Robin engaged in an intense game of cards, Franky enthusiastically sketching something onto a large page, Zoro fast asleep on the grass, and Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp running around as they play their own variation of tag.

Perhaps Sanji’s gaze is drawn to one of his crewmates in particular, following the flow of his curly hair, smiling at the sound of his laughter.

Perhaps. Sanji won’t tell.

“Woah! Look at that!”

The rowdy trio’s game of tag comes to a halt at Chopper’s cry. Luffy and Usopp look to where the reindeer is pointing, their eyes lighting up when they spot the thing that caught his attention.

“Cool!” Luffy begins to race over, but he’s stopped by Usopp.

“Wait! Don’t run, you’ll scare it!”

The trio carefully make their way over to a nearby tree, their attention grabbed by a fairly large spider.

Sanji shudders when he sees the creature. He looks away, focusing on the food. He is not interested in the further details of their exploration.

Luffy, Chopper, and Usopp fawn over the spider, speculating on its species and origins.

“It’s markings kinda look like hearts,” Usopp observes. “They’re even a pinkish-red colour.”

“Aw, so cute!” Chopper squeals.

“I’m gonna name it Cupid!” Luffy declares. “That guy’s in charge of hearts ‘n stuff, right? This lil' girl could be his pet or something,” he laughs.

A bit later, Sanji calls out to them. “Oi, get your asses over here, the food’s ready! And wash your hands if you’ve been touching bugs!”

Saying their goodbyes to Cupid, the boys rush over to claim their dinner.

The crew happily enjoys their meal, thanking Sanji with wide grins that only get wider when he presents them with dessert.

As the evening turns to night, the crew wind down, packing away their belongings and making their way back to the Sunny.

“Are you sure we can’t stay and camp?” Luffy whines. “It’s like, the perfect night for it! We've got the perfect spot!”

“No,” Nami denies flatly. “We didn’t bring the stuff for it and it’s already getting late. Plus, I want to sleep in my own bed. Now hurry up and get going! Franky! Turn on your flashlights, I can’t see!”

“One set of nipple lights, comin’ up! Ow!”

Usopp and Sanji take up the rear, picking up the last of Sanji’s portable kitchen gear. The chef is happily listening to the sniper’s latest tale when he feels a pinch on his ankle.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“Sanji! Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I think something just bit me.”

Usopp looks in the grass, trying to find the culprit. When he does, he gasps. “It’s the spider from before! Cupid, why’d you go and bite Sanji? That’s not nice!”

“‘Cause it’s a good for nothing insect,” Sanji grumbles.

“Actually, it’s an arachnid—”

“You better not have poisoned me, you stupid bug,” Sanji yells at the spider, which scurries away.

“It’d be venom, not poison.”

“You are not helping!” Sanji snaps. “What is this, a Robin impression? Stop with the unnecessary bug facts, this shit hurts!”

“Does it really? You should get Chopper to look at it as soon as we get back to the ship. Here, gimme your stuff, I’ll carry if for you.”

“I can carry it myself, asshole. I’m not that weak.”

“Really? ‘Cause if you’re in pain, the Great Usopp would be more than happy to carry you back to the Sunny.” Usopp smirks and flexes his muscular arms, sending Sanji a wink.

Sanji pretends like his heart isn’t trying to escape his chest and throw itself at Usopp’s feet.

Internally, Sanji is a mess. Externally, he rolls his eyes and hefts his baggage further in his arms.

“You do two push-ups and think you’re a strong guy now, huh? C’mon, let’s go before any other bugs try to make a meal outta me.”

When they make it back to the Sunny, all of their things put away, Usopp continues to hover by Sanji, his concern rising with each passing moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Usopp asks. “You’re all red. You shouldn’t be sweating this much.”

“‘M fine,” Sanji mumbles. The way he sways on the spot doesn’t do much to help his case.

Usopp holds him steady, in full crisis mode as he watches the usually stable chef falter. He hoists Sanji in his arms, dashing to the infirmary. “CHOPPER!”

“What happened?” the doctor asks. Usopp puts Sanji on the bed and recounts the tale.

By now, the rest of the crew has come to investigate the cause of the commotion. They all stand in the doorway, shocked to see their crewmate suddenly so ill.

“It’s only been like 20 minutes! Why does he look bad already? Sanji, don’t die!”

Usopp’s dramatic cry unfortunately has some merit. Sanji doesn’t look well. He is the complete opposite of the perfect picture of health he was less than an hour ago. In just a few minutes, Sanji seems to have lost all of his energy. He’s flushed and sweating, breathing heavily and brows furrowed as he fights some type of pain. Even his usually shiny hair is limp and brittle-looking.

Usopp’s heart positively breaks at the sight.

“I can’t make him a proper anti-venom without knowing exactly what type of spider that was,” Chopper states. He clicks his tongue as he looks at the inflamed, red bite mark on Sanji’s ankle.

“Brook, you help me get Sanji out of this suit. Everyone else, get out so I can treat him. Now!”

The rest of the crew gather on the deck, concern on all of their faces.

“Usopp,” Robin says, pulling the sniper from his worsening spiral of anxiety. “You said Sanji was bit by the same spider that you saw in the forest, right? Draw me a picture. We can use it to get information from the locals.”

Usopp nods. He runs off to the galley and grabs a sketchpad nestled between Sanji’s collection of recipes and cookbooks. Before long, he’s got multiple drawings of the spider, complete with colours and accurate depictions of its heart-shaped markings.

Franky and Nami go to the hospital to ask about an anti-venom while Luffy, Zoro, and Robin go ask around town.

On the Sunny, Usopp paces back and forth, biting his nails and their beds away to nothing as worry engulfs him. He peeks into the infirmary, heart breaking a little more every time he catches a glimpse of Sanji’s pained face.

“Sanji will be alright,” Brook assures him when he exits the room. “He’s stable for now. Our cook is strong. He’s got the best doctor caring for him and crewmates desperately seeking out information. He’ll pull through.”

Usopp tries his very best to believe him.

The rest of the crew returns to the Sunny in less than an hour. Everyone, except Sanji, who’s resting in the infirmary, gathers at the kitchen table.

“Turns out that our little spider has eaten a Devil Fruit,” Robin tells them. “Everyone in the area is familiar with the spider that has eaten the Cupid-Cupid fruit.”

“Wait, the spider is actually related to Cupid? That’s hilarious! I’m like a fortune teller! Hahahaha! Ow!” Luffy rubs his sore head, pouting at Nami.

“A bite from the Cupid Spider can do multiple things, depending on who is bitten," Robin continues. "However, it only causes illness in someone who has a requited love but has not actually expressed their love. To save Sanji, whoever is in love with him must tell him the breadth of their true feelings, lest he remain bedridden forever. Or worse.”

The crew sits in silence for a moment, reflecting on the information.

“Alright, who’s in love with Sanji?” Luffy demands.

All eyes go to Usopp.

He is so red in the face Chopper is concerned he'll pass out. His eyes are so wide Zoro wonders if they'll pop out of his head.

"What are you waiting for?" Nami cries. "Get in there and confess your love so Sanji gets better!"

"I-I-I-I-I-I'm not—"

"Oh, please, this is not the time for your anxious, denial bullshit! Go fix Sanji!"

"Can't we just kill the spider instead?" he suggests meekly.

Luffy and Chopper gasp in betrayal.

"That would be a bad idea," Robin warns. "That spider is very well-respected on this island. Causing it harm would no doubt incur the wrath of all the locals. There is nothing you can do but speak from the heart."

"You got this, Usopp-bro! Just tell Sanji how you feel! It'll turn out super!"

On stiff legs and with wobbly knees, Usopp leaves the galley and makes his way back to the infirmary, deaf to the sounds of his crew's encouragements.

Despite his desperate pleas to the universe, Sanji is awake when Usopp steps inside. He looks even worse than before. His skin is pale, covered in a sheen of sweat. His eyes are lidded and he's got bags under them like he hasn't slept in days. But even still, a smile lights up his face when he sees the sniper.

"Usopp," he says, voice quiet and raspier than usual. His smile is no less bright.

"Sanji," Usopp returns, taking a seat next to the bed. "I've got news. So, turns out that the spider that bit you has a Devil Fruit power."

Sanji scoffs. "Of course it does. Just my fucking luck. So, what? It ate the Sick-Sick fruit and now I'll feel like shit forever?"

Usopp chuckles drily. "No, nothing like that. We can actually help you pretty easily. Or, I can, anyway. I just... I have to... to..."

The sniper closes his eyes as a fresh wave of anxiety washes over him. He can't do this! It's too scary! But he has to.

How many times has he been in this position? Forced to watch someone he loves suffer from an illness, unable to do anything but try and distract them from their pain.

This time is different. Usopp can stop this. He can stop Sanji's suffering. All he has to do is be honest.

Well, best to rip off the band-aid.

Taking a deep breath, Usopp grabs Sanji's clammy hand in both of his. "I love you!"

"I-I've loved you for a long time, Sanji," Usopp admits, and the words start flowing, unable to stop. "I don't know when exactly it started, but I know that I do because I think you're so amazing! You're so cool, and strong, and talented. I love that you act all grumpy but you're actually extremely kind and considerate. I love spending time with you! I love it when you tell me stories about Zeff and the Baratie. I love that you always ask me questions when I'm telling you about something because you make me feel heard. I love that you always wrap your arms around me when we party. I love it when you smile at me and dance with me.

"I love how you look in the early morning and when the sun is setting. Well, I love how you look all the time because you're so gorgeous it isn't fair! All handsome and pretty at the same time. You dress nice, and you smell nice, and you make me food and protect me—! Sanji, I love you!

"I'm sorry it took a stupid spider to force me to say it but I lov-"

Usopp's speech is cut off as desperate lips meet his own. He melts into Sanji's embrace, returning the kiss with all he's got. His heart is beating so fast he thinks it might pop right out of his chest, but nothing could possibly take him away from this moment.

When they pull apart, foreheads resting against one another, Usopp is taken aback by Sanji's appearance. He looks as healthy as ever, save for his very intense blush. But his eyes are shining and his smile is hopeful and adoring.

"Do you mean it, Usopp? Do you really feel that way about me?"

"I do. A-And you? D-do you feel...?"

"The same," Sanji promises. "Everything that you said, I feel the same way. Usopp, I love you! I—did you really just cure me with a love confession?"

Usopp blinks, and then he bursts out into laughter. Sanji joins him, the two holding one another as they laugh at the absurdity of the situation, their hearts full to bursting.

"Anything is possible on the Grand Line," Usopp reminds him. "Especially for the number one lover on the seas, the great Captain Usopp!"

"Number one lover, huh? I don't know if I believe that." Sanji pulls Usopp in close, whispering into his ear. "I think you'll have to show me."

"T-that can be arranged."

Usopp leans in and Sanji goes to meet him, lips pressing together again, and again, and again.

#btw robin was 100% lying about the islanders caring about the spiders they do not give af #but she had to make sure her crewmates got together!! what a good friend #poor chopper couldn't go back into the infirmary all night #believe it or not this was supposed to be a drabble or fic outline...... idk what happened #i just wanted an excuse to write sanuso and the strawhats. sue me.#this was so fun i love these two!!! sanji HATES that a bug can be accredited to his relationship btw. usopp loves it.#'she was our guardian angel!! our cupid!!' 'NO!!!!!'#i couldn't figure out how to include this but the more in love u are the worse ur symptoms. which is why sanji was so sick so fast.#he was too gay and too in love WOW that's hilarious. i love them.#sanuso #usosan #sanji #usopp.#black leg sanji #god usopp #one piece #strawhats #red's fic

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askspookyfox · 6 months

Text

Wow, my artist, my guy, thanks for a whole lotta nothing for 3 years. It's a'ight. It's fine. Cool cool cool cool. Don't worry my sinners, I do still exist! Imma try to make plans to make a dramatic return and have an explaination for everything, but the timing just isn't quite right. Those of you who still watch this blog, I 'presh you. ✌️ Until then, I hope y'all been taking good care of October in my absence (and by 'good care', I mean annoy the heck outta her, heh).

Mod Mutt: Heeeeeyyy.... So... 'Bout droppin that ball that I mentioned in my last post... Three years, huh? My bad, y'all. 😅

As it was stated in that post, I had some serious financial priorities that I needed a second job that demanded a lot of my free time (thanks student loans, always a blast whenever you sap up a third of my paycheck every month 👍👍👍). As of 2023, even though some things are new in my life, I’m still technically in the same situation as I was back in 2020. It’s really hard to have the energy and motivation to do art in general and when I do, I usually couldn’t do more than a sketch before I tuck it away and don’t finish. I’m knee deep in a burn-out, stuck in a cycle of working two jobs and taking care of adulting shit on my weekends.

Honestly, I’m tired of living this way.

I feel like a shell of who I used to be, giving my life to work. I miss the creativity that comes with art and telling stories. I adore watching my best friend do their October’s blog, year after year, and every year, I get the inspiration from them but lack the time to jump back into it. Such as this year, it’s just too late as we only have a week left in the month.

However, if you’ll have me, as a New Year’s resolution for next year, I want to refocus back to art and sharing Spook’s stories and help Night push October’s storyline along with Spook’s help. If this means having to work on Spook posts once a week every week leading up to October 2024, then so be it! I can’t guarantee anything, I can’t make promises as life do still take priority, but I do have a lot of sketches and answers to your questions sitting in my computer, waiting to be completed, so who knows what you’ll see! For right now, please accept my apologies for literally disappearing on everyone in 2020. I want to do better and I want to bring Spook and all of his scary toothy sassiness back to you. Thank you to those who’s still around, I hope that you’ll come back in 2024.

Until then, stay spooky!

#Spook #Mod Mutt #Mod Mutt Talk #Holyshit Im alive lmao #Sorry bout that #Thank you for your patience #If yall are still here lmfao #Seriously though #thank you #Spook is real mad #Time to buckle down and start workin #Love yall

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bvnga-aprikot · 27 days

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VERY long overdue, this was wip that was supposed to be a sketch of what i want Athy, Jetty & Kiel’s outfits to look like in my Reincarnated!Jennette au that continuously haunts me for some reason. except i got bored at some point and just now i decided to rush coloring them now for some reason now that i remembered it's existence.

first attempt at my r!jetty au debutante dress my wip from last year

more under the cut :0 it's a bit long so sorry for that

i did this because i ended up feeling dissatisfied with my first attempt at designing a debutante dress for r!jetty since to me i just don't like how i executed things. granted i'm not really serious about my art but the colors looked too muddy lol. aside from that though, i also wanted to finally draw Athy's and Kiel's outfits mention in my other posts since they're obviously integral to this au.

i went more in depth in my first design post, but i decided to stick more true to the neoclassical silhouette that came after the rococo era which heavily influenced Jetty's dresses in both timelines in the manhwa. obviously a huge departure imo bc i think Jetty and her bows are too iconic to be left out of this one and i find it unfortunate that even when redoing my design i still couldn't find a way to incorporate bows lol. besides that, i'm quite happy with how her dress turned out this time.

i didn't point this out in the actual photo but if you're wondering why there are green marks on her neck and hands, long story short it was Viscount Patterson's fault (not to spoil on my own au but they do meet earlier).

Athy's dress is an homage to traditional debutante dresses being white, with the added edge that Athy's dress isn't supposed to stay white and turns into the iconic pink the more she dances. i wanted this to look more elegant and as if she is becoming a blooming flower as the night goes on. though i do wish i did more with the dress since it's supposed to represent how Athy is fully taking her life in her own hands to become Ruler of Obelia and thus, blooming into a new person. i should do a separate sketch for her dress bc it's more complex than what i had intended.

Kiel basically went full-on duke of the north with this one haha. full-disclosure, yes Kiel and Athy do have a thing with each other in this au though i don't intend for them to end up with each other, so i drew his outfit to compliment Athy's which ended up making him look like a Izek clone. however i specifically chose the dark colors because at that point, he and Jennette are still grieving the death of the Duchess due to... very unfortunate circumstances.

for the accessories Ijekiel and Jennette are wearing i'm keeping their connection to Duchess Alpheus, she's like the Lily in this au except she tragically passes away in their late childhood. it's an event that acts as a turning point for their characters and puts a strain on their relationship since she was the only adult in their lives who saw them for who they are outside of being Roger's pawns.

#rosie's txt #also sorry for the lack of wmmap posts these days focusing on other things rn!#reincarnated!jennette au #who made me a princess #wmmap #wmmap au #wmmap athanasia #wmmap jennette #wmmap ijekiel #athanasia de alger obelia #jennette margarita #ijekiel alpheus

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red-bat-arse · 3 months

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I Got a Problem 🎸🎶🎻

AO3

Chapter One/Two

Eddie 'The Freak' Munson, famous for bringing rock to new heights with his band Hellfire, listens to everything but Country. 'King' Steve Harrington, leading light of the new generation of traditional Country artists, has a few thoughts about that.

=<+>=

Eddie made himself go into the studio, even though he felt sick to his stomach at the idea of another fruitless session. He'd just feel worse if he stayed home -he'd lay in bed all day with his brain running in circles about getting into his office and working, and he'd keep thinking about it until the sun went from risen to set and he fell back asleep, exhausted from doing fuck all.

So he pulled into the lot and grabbed his traveller thermos to keep him going until someone made him take a break for lunch, and he trudged inside, waving over at Claudia as he passed reception. She looked extra busy, on the phone and typing at the same time, so he didn't stop until the elevator brought him upstairs and he pushed into the lounge room, beelining straight for the coffee machine.

It was weirdly busy in the halls for this early. Sure they were old school at Prison Break and it was an unspoken rule that at least half of everyone's work should be done in house, but the kids usually left it to the afternoon and Wayne preferred his late nights where he could chat with Hop and the guards as long as he liked. Granted, Eddie hadn't done much but hole up in a recording booth these last few months, but he was usually pretty solid on his friends' schedules.

Then the drawl made it to his ears, and he realized one crucial point he'd failed to take into account -country artists were morning people.

"Morning, Munson," was called over, and when he glanced in their direction it was... well, he was pretty sure he knew the kid, the younger of Mama Byers' two sons. The girls looked familiar from the party last week, but otherwise he was drawing a blank.

"Uh, hey," he raised a hand, not really in the mood to socialize. His mind kept drifting back to the unfinished songs on his computer and the sound techs he kept having to put off talking to about production ideas. But he already dug his grave with Harrington, he supposed he should play nice with some of the rest of them; while the pot was filling he meandered over and glanced down at the papers scattered on the table. "Album art?"

The kid -Bill? Will? Yeah, Will -nodded, smiling shyly. "I said I'd do some sketches up for Mike's EP -uh, we got to talking at the party," he ducked his head, and Eddie pulled a nearby one over to inspect it. It kind of reminded him of his classic D&D manuals, and he guessed it'd suit the medieval imagery Mike favoured. "I'm not planning on recording anything right now, so it'll keep me busy. I really liked the painting you chose for The Wrong Road -I heard you and Grant did it yourselves?"

Another country boy who knew his work, would wonders never cease? "Yeah, Grant and I workshopped it. I'm sure I've got the sketches around if you ever wanna see them," he offered, and Will nodded quick. "And you ladies are...?"

A prim little brunette in a ruffled shirt and a blonde who would've looked like a cheerleader if she wasn't wearing an oversized flannel and one of the biggest belt buckles he'd ever seen. "Chrissy Cunningham, charmed," the blonde said with a giggle and an exaggerated accent, holding up her hand like a lady in a period drama. When Eddie went to take it she shifted smoothly into a firm handshake. "And this's Nancy Wheeler. It's real nice to be at a good label finally, thanks for putting up with the tight quarters on such short notice."

"It's no problem," Eddie stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, one eye on the coffee machine. He could almost feel the shadow of an idea for a chord coming on, if he could just get his joe and go. "Tiger really as shitty as they say?"

"Whatever you've heard, it was worse," Nancy said, crossing her arms. "Thank god Steve finally got to everyone. I was really to shoot my way out."

"Nancy also shoots pistol competitively," Will piped up helpfully.

"It was... restrictive," Chrissy said with the air of someone holding themselves back, especially with the way Nancy snorted derisively. "Especially to us girls. Purity rings, attending church, that sort of thing -Steve was the one who convinced us we could walk away, and hired a lawyer so we could take our work with us. Even though he-"

"We're very glad to be at Prison Break," Will interrupted, nodding up at Eddie. "Especially me and Jonathan, because Chief Hopper brought Mom in with such a good contract, we don't all have to work extra. We can just focus on the music, or my art, or anything."

"And once we're done with the new album, Hopper said we're free to record solo work. Never would've gotten that from Tiger," Nancy smiled, satisfied, and Eddie suddenly recalled she was one of the Harrington quartet. Her and the elder brother Byers and one other girl. "Is anyone on your team good with percussion?"

Eddie had exactly zero interest in discussing how percussion could work into a good old square dance, or whatever. Luckily he was saved from more talking by the shrill beep of the coffee machine, and he waved himself off with a half promise to ask if Grant was still dabbling in trumpet as of late.

As he filled the thermos up, he turned over what 'worse than you've heard' could mean. He knew he'd been lucky in both labels he'd signed with over his career, thanks to Wayne, but everyone heard the horror stories eventually.

Tiger Studios had always flown under the radar, a bigger record label on the other side of the city from Prison Break that catered exclusively to Country singers in much the same way PB used to cater to hard rock. Honestly, Eddie was a little behind the times, since even before the accident he'd been focused on the album, the tour, and helping plan Jeff's impending nuptials.

Of course, he heard the gossip the past few weeks. One artist dropping their label was rare, let alone ten at once like happened at Tiger. Harrington's lawyer must be fucking amazing to pull that shit off, although there were rumours of the execs only backing off because of some pretty hefty accusations flung their way. The kind of shit that made Eddie thank god for Wayne and Hopper whenever he thought about it too hard.

And in the middle of it all, or at the helm, was 'King' Steve Harrington, risen star of Country at large. Most of the references went over his head, but when someone was called a modern day Garth Brooks, well, that wasn't a light title to bear, even Eddie could say that. It'd be the metal equivalent of a new Ozzy Osbourne -it could happen, but increasingly unlikely as time went on. Harrington, who apparently convinced all the others to leave, and ensured they actually could -that was closing in on Dio territory if he really got away with it without a hitch.

He wasn't too sure if he actually had, though. He caught Chrissy's little slip, before Will broke in; but in the end, it wasn't any of his business. Harrington was here now, signed with them all neat and legal-like, so he'd obviously fought his own battle and come out the victor. The details would probably reach him eventually.

For now, he twisted the lid on his coffee and turned to go, grabbing a banana when his stomach twinged in protest. As he left, Mike and El came in with two more of the country club, and all four called after him their good mornings, more chipper than he was used to so early.

Eddie waved over his shoulder, already wanting to just go home and sleep. He shifted his thermos to his better hand and trudged up to his usual booth anyway. He couldn't keep the band on hiatus forever.

The trend continued through the next while; every time Eddie walked in, no matter what time of day or which floor he was on, the studio seemed more bustling and lively than ever before. Part of it was just that an extra ten people, and a few more security and special technicians and the like, just meant it was natural. But, grudging as he had to admit, the country club were all around just happy to have a space to work on their music and weren't shy about interacting with everyone. Even Eddie, who was probably the least approachable besides Hopper and in a perpetual bad mood besides, he found himself getting pulled into little talks with them on his brief forays into the lounge -although it was mainly Chrissy, who was the most personable of the whole lot.

It probably helped that she smoked about as much as he did, and they swapped a few tips between them to break the ice. Or, she smoked as much as he did on a good day. Lately he was tearing his hair out over his writers block more often than not, so he was smoking nearly every night when he got home, and a bit on his lunch breaks when it really got bad. That was probably why he put his foot in his mouth the way he did, about two weeks into Prison Break's new normal.

Eddie was at the tail end of a string of bad days, and not just because of the dead end of working on the album. Monday was the five year anniversary of his old man dying in jail of a heart attack, which already put him off completely. He was on pins and needles for days, irritated at the slightest reminder and getting reminded at every turn, which sucked because even the good memories were all tinged with hurt by now. Then he cut his hand open on a tin of tomatoes at home like an idiot, which was probably the worst because it meant he couldn't even write when the rare burst of inspiration hit him. He didn't need stitches, but it was a close thing.

After that, it all snowballed. He was frustrated, so he tried to work it out on his laptop -he couldn't get the lyrics to work, so he fiddled with the arrangements he'd written down -when he couldn't visualize how the sounds would mesh, he stomped down to one of the empty booths to play previous recordings back until they poured out of his ears and he was ready to scream. All that, so when lunch or his inevitable breaking point came by he was first out to the courtyard to light up and try to smoke the stress away.

Usually, at work, it was just cigarettes. Today, Eddie sucked down half a joint and the sandwich he brought from home and then went up to claim a booth.

Today, though, his usual booth was occupied. Today, he came into the observation area to see Steve Harrington and the elder brother Byers sitting inside, no sound techs or anything around, picking on their guitars and bickering back and forth about lyrics and timing for the fiddle to come in on the chorus.

And the fucking song was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

"I don't blame this brewski for sweatin' like it's guilty of something," Harrington sung jauntily, hamming it up for Byers, who rolled his eyes but obliged with picking out a tune. Eddie had stopped dead when he realized they were working, if you could call a song apparently about feeling bad for drinking a 12 ounce on the water work, and watched with his blood boiling as Harrington sketched out a whole song in a few minutes.

He found himself horribly jealous, not something he often had to deal with, at the ease with which it seemed to come to Harrington. Sure, it wasn't exactly fucking Mob Rules being written in there but it was leaps and bounds more than Eddie was accomplishing at the moment, and he clenched his fists as the pair inside busted up laughing at their own silly song.

Harrington even broke out a stupid, embarrassing Elvis impression for the end of one of the last choruses, which Byers suggested they leave in. Like they were completely fucking around with this in one of Prison Break's good recording rooms, completely unaware that there were other people who wanted to use it to work on serious projects. Not on three chord nonsense songs that talked about the fish not biting at the fucking lake.

Eddie didn't know how long he stood there fuming but unable to make himself interrupt, but it must have been a good while because when Byers pushed open the connecting door and saw him, his knees were sore when he unlocked them.

"Uh, hey man, didn't notice you," Byers said awkwardly, one eyebrow raised at whatever expression was on Eddie's face right now. He didn't dwell on it, just looked back at Harrington as if Eddie wasn't even there. "You good with me taking off early?"

"Yeah, man, go get Baby Byers," Harrington waved him off, flashing those pearly whites again. Bigger Byers nodded, and kind of skirted around Eddie as best he could, his guitar on his back -the door to the hall swung shut with a click, leaving him alone with Harrington.

The other man stood up and stretched, no less put together here than at the party a few weeks back. This time it was a little polo ensemble, brown and cream to match the boots again, a big blue buckle on the belt to go with the blue jeans on his ass. That ticked Eddie off too.

"What's up with you, Munson?" Harrington asked, barely glancing his way as he packed up his songbook. "Did you finally figure out your hair needs conditioner instead of twelve in one?"

"Ha. Funny," Eddie sneered, making Harrington actually look at him. He could feel the frustration from hell week bubbling over, eager for an easy target he already didn't like. "Don't you get tired of singing that shit? Brewskis, Harrington? You've got to be embarrassed."

Harrington straightened up, one hand on his belt, the other with a few loose papers held firmly in front of him. He leveled Eddie with an almost bored look, huffing once like he didn't have a care in the world, like Eddie was the weird one here.

"Beer on the lake, fish in the water, might as well put a truck and a pretty girl in there, get a bingo card," Eddie went on, even more irritated at the non-reaction. "What, not enough songs on the album about drinking already?"

"No, man, it's just a fun one," Harrington said, shoulders shrugging. "It's not that serious."

"It's a waste of time is what it is," Eddie threw up his hands, the first big movement since he'd walked in, and oh, god, ow. "You could actually sing about something important, y'know."

Finally that seemed to make Harrington twitch. "Y'know, Munson, you're being pretty judgey right now. You don't know what is or isn't important to me."

"You're gonna tell me a song about demolishing a pack of crap beer by a lake is important to you," Eddie said, stung by the reprimand, if only because Harrington was right. He was kind of losing his grip on why he was even in here, why he'd even come in today when he felt so bad. "Look me in the eyes and say that. Go on!"

Eddie half expected Harrington's expression to go steely, kind of like when he'd been interrupted by Murray at the party.

Instead, Harrington cracked a smile and shrugged again. He dropped his notebook in his messenger bag and put his hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at Eddie up and down, inspecting him.

"Does it have to be without laughing? Cause I don't think I can make it," he crossed his arms and pursed his lips, a little furrow appearing in his forehead. "Are you okay, Munson? You don't look so good."

"I'm fucking fine," Eddie grit out.

"Alright," Harrington held up his hands. "Then, no, a song about a pack of beer ain't that important. But I still think you're being harsh. I get you don't like my music, but you don't have to go out of your way to antagonize me, man."

"I'm trying to be helpful, man. I don't want you laughed off stage when you break out your cringey little Elvis bit," Fuck, why couldn't he just stop? Not everything that reminded him had to be fucking attacked, but now with Harrington actively engaging him, it was almost like he'd passed the point of no return. "If I'm thinking it, so are other people."

Harrington rolled his eyes hard. "And if everyone told me to jump off a bridge, I'd say sure, which one! Do you hear yourself, Munson? I thought rock was supposed to be all about counterculture."

"Rock is an outlet. Sorry for caring about what I put out into the world, I guess I just don't want to embarrass my fans," he'd gotten closer to Harrington at some point, and it was weird -the way his blood was pumping, he almost felt good for the first time in who knew how long. "Or my label for that matter."

Harrington cracked. "I don't put out songs to please the fans, asshole, or any fucking label. I've got fans because they like the music I make. Sure you ain't a little confused?"

"No, I've got it. You've got low standards," Eddie smirked and relished the offence written on Harrington's stupid pretty face.

"Well, at least I can still make music," he said, finally angry, and Eddie flinched back like he'd been slapped. "You're right, Munson, I'm glad to put out a hundred songs that are corny and cringey, because at least they're genuine. How long's Hellfire been on hiatus now, seven months? You ever think the reason you can't spit out a single track anymore is because you're too wound up your own ass and stuck there, you fucking prick?"

In the ringing silence after that, Eddie's mouth dropped open and he felt his face go pale. Harrington's eyes went wide and he muttered a curse under his breath, instant regret plain as day on his face.

"God, Munson, I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"You obviously fucking meant it," Eddie snarled, but it was weak, and his head was swimming. His hands were trembling at his sides, heat crawling up his neck at the realization he'd been an unwarranted asshole and brought this on himself. Just another shit day on the tail end of a shit week of a shit seven months. "Fuck this, I can't fucking think anymore. I'll stay out of your fucking hair, Harrington."

"No, wait, man, is something wrong-"

"I said I'm fucking fine!" Eddie stepped forward and shoved Harrington back when he looked about to come close, and didn't feel any better. In fact, when the guy only looked more concerned, he felt about ten times smaller, and his stomach lurched like he was going to be sick.

"Have fun with your goof off anthems, man. I've got actual music to work on."

He ignored anything else Harrington might have said and spun on his heel, out the door in two long strides and down the hall in five. He couldn't stand the idea of an enclosed elevator right now, so he pushed into the stairwell and thundered down the three flights to the ground floor, tunnel vision getting him out the back and into the parking lot in record time.

He was such a fucking idiot. Why did he do that? Why did he see Harrington and go completely off the rails like an absolute lunatic -it wasn't even his fault that country just -jesus christ, he must think he was crazy-

Eddie let out a strangled laugh and fumbled his keys to the ground, reaching down and grabbing them after a shaky minute. He probably shouldn't be driving.

He got into his car anyway, put the keys on the dashboard and sat there like a weirdo staring straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel tight enough to make his fingers ache.

Maybe Harrington was right.

Maybe every shitty thing he'd ever heard from a tabloid was right -that he was a fucking snob who took himself too seriously, and was only making music for the money. There were people who thought he didn't even like making music, and after seven months of this, how could Eddie refute them?

He didn't like it anymore. The thought made his teeth chatter and his brain shy away, but it was true. Ever since he woke up in the hospital and got his expected recovery time on a little note card, he'd dreaded picking up a guitar again. When he finally forced himself to, the chords didn't come easily anymore, and all he could hear was the echo of Jeff's horrified scream. He put it down and tried to write lyrics, but everything was too dark, or too confusing, or made Gareth's face pinch when he looked over the cue cards. He stopped being able to write them not long after.

He didn't like making music. Eddie gagged on nothing and curled in on himself, shivering even in the warm air. He hated making music! He was up his own ass about the album, and getting back on the horse for the fans, and writing these fucking asinine songs about pointless, serious topics that the charts would love and the magazines would rave over and-

Even if he did write it, he wouldn't be able to tour. It hit him like a brick that if he could barely pick up his guitar in the studio, how the hell was he supposed to walk back on stage after what happened? How the fuck was he supposed to play live with all those people watching him when he couldn't even play for himself?

Oh god, he'd never make another album-

Eddie jolted in his seat at that particular thought and fumbled for his keys again, getting them in the ignition with nausea rolling in his stomach. He couldn't think about that right now. Not here in his car where anyone could see -not five minutes after making a complete awful fool of himself and running away like a coward. He had to get home and get in bed and hide. He had to get somewhere safe to freak out.

He didn't remember the drive home, but he got there. Ben took one look at him and ushered him in, accompanying him into the elevator and taking his keys from him to open his door once they reached his floor. The doorman got him inside and tried to fuss, but Eddie loudly thanked him and asked him to go, so he did, reluctantly.

Eddie got to his bedroom, crawled under the covers, and curled himself into a ball.

Maybe he'd never make another record.

Maybe he'd be on hiatus for forever and let down all his fans and Hopper. He'd let down his band, and his uncle, and he'd disappoint his Momma, and he'd never make another album because-

-because he was scared of doing another live show and getting hurt again, and he couldn't write lyrics anymore because everything was wrong in his head, and he couldn't pick up a guitar anymore because his hand wasn't right anymore-

Because he didn't check. Because he fucked up just like always, just like he'd fucked up today by not walking out the minute he heard twangy guitar and let himself get reminded of his shit Dad and how he used to hurt him and-

-Eddie was just-

-he was just-

-so tired.

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #musician au #country star #rock star #fic #fanfic #st fanfic #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #hurt/comfort #cross posted on ao3

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