#he just had to play by their rules untill he got high enough to actually change things

[clementine-thedestroyer]

You can’t look at John Price and tell me that he didn’t have a healthy disrespect for authority at some point. That disrespect for authority just changed in my opinion, shifted to a more mature form of only giving respect when it’s earned and deserved- which is what I think you usually see from him. He respects a person, not their rank.

I think of him as having lived at least some part of his teenage years and/or early twenties (depending on the AU or story) in a bit of a not quite rough, but definitely not something he’d want shown to superiors sort of way. Leather jackets, pub crawls, ect. It could go a million different ways- maybe was a biker, maybe he was part of the British punk/punk adjacent scene, who knows.

[eldritch-thrumming]

you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name.

i knew from the first note played i’d be breaking all my rules to see you. you smile that beautiful smile and all the girls in the front row scream your name. so dim that spotlight, tell me things like “i can’t take my eyes off of you.” i’m no one special, just another wide-eyed girl who’s desperately in love with you. give me a photograph to hang on my wall, superstar.

Eddie has three major rules when it comes to working with celebrities: 1. don’t flirt with the talent; 2. don’t hang out with the talent; 3. don’t, under any circumstances, fuck the talent.

He’s had enough rockstars’ managers kick him out of hotel rooms after waking up to an empty bed with cold sheets to have learned his lesson ten times over by now.

He doesn’t even think of adding a fourth rule: don’t fall in love with the talent. Has never even come close to needing a rule like that. Not until he meets Steve Harrington.

~*~

“Ed, I got a new one for ya, he’ll be here at two,” Eddie’s boss Murray says from the open doorway of Eddie’s office.

“Huh?” Eddie eloquently responds, mouth full of the banana he’d found in the office kitchen for lunch. “What?”

Murray rolls his eyes. He gets endlessly annoyed when it turns out no one can read his mind.

“New singer-songwriter coming in at two, asked for you specifically. Working on his second album, so look alive.” Murray tosses a demo in Eddie’s direction before departing the office and moving down the hallway towards his own. Eddie barely catches it just before the plastic corner gets him right in the eye.

This is the problem with Murray. He gives no details and leaves absolutely no room for follow-up questions. The other problem with Murray is that he waits until the last minute to spring shit on Eddie that he knows Eddie’s not going to like.

Eddie flips the plastic CD case around in his hand so he can read the words written in Sharpie on the front. ‘S. H. - 2’ is all it says, giving him absolutely no information. It’s already ten to two, so Eddie doesn’t even have time to listen to a single song if he wants to make it up the two floors to the conference room where he usually meets with the talent for the first time. Eddie scowls in annoyance; he hates being unprepared and he just knows Murray is conspiring against him somehow.

Eddie pushes up from his desk and leaves his office, heading for the elevator. He pressed the button for the 42nd floor. He likes to play this game where he tries to hold his breath for the duration of the elevator ride. Two floors is easy. The ride up to the 40th floor is a lot harder.

By the time Eddie makes it to the conference room, his appointment’s already in there. As he walks through the glass doors, he realizes that when Murray said “new,” he didn’t actually mean new. He meant, like, new to them.

Because sitting in the conference room at the head of the table is former boy band heartthrob Steve Harrington.

~*~

Eddie had never had Steve’s poster on his wall in high school or anything embarrassing like that, thank god. But he had kept one of the pages he’d ripped out of the library’s copy of Tiger Beat folded under his mattress for early morning daydreaming. And Eddie had certainly never listened to his music when he’d been in Teeny Boppers United or whatever the hell his band of cookie cutter boy-next-door types was called (he definitely knew).

Now, here Harrington is, sitting across the table from him, hair full of blond highlights and cherry lipgloss (Eddie thinks, imagines, hopes) on his lips.

“Um, hi. I’m, uh, Eddie. Munson. Eddie Munson,” Eddie holds out his hand for Steve to shake and Steve does. Eddie tells himself he’s imagining the way Steve’s eyes linger on him and how he takes just a second too long to pull his hand away.

Steve smiles, blinding and perfectly white. “Yeah, man, I know. My friend Robin has worked with you before? She had real great things to say,” Steve tells him and he sounds more sincere than a former-pop star asshole has any right to be.

“Buckley?” Eddie asks surprised, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah, she’s been a huge help with my solo stuff. She co-wrote a few of the songs on my first album.” Steve drums his fingertips on the thick wood of the table.

“Huh.” The sound leaves Eddie against his will, as he’s trying to mask his surprise. Robin Buckley was talented and she had a sound that Eddie would never guess Steve Harrington would be into. She was indie, for sure, almost folk, bordering on a breathy country sound that Eddie thinks she’d deny if she heard him describe her like that. “I’m not entirely sure I’m what you’re looking for, to be honest with you.” He doesn’t know why he says it. He has no idea what Harrington’s sound is now that he’s broken free of the teenage bubblegum scene. But he’s always had a self-sabotaging streak a mile wide and he feels both relieved and disappointed to potentially have this out.

Steve frowns slightly, the crease between his eyes deepening. “Did you listen to the demo? I actually have this one song and I’m struggling with the bridge and, you know, not to, like, geek out or fan girl or whatever, but I’m, like, so into your sound and your lyrics and just the way you can construct a metaphor that seems so obvious when you hear it but is still so surprising in the context of the song it’s in and I think it would really complement what I’ve already started and…” Steve’s been gesturing wildly with his hands and must realize he’s rambling, because he trails off, blushing. “I mean. Did you listen?” He asks again.

“Honestly, Murray only just told me about this meeting about ten minutes before it started,” Eddie shrugs, but he feels bad about the way Steve’s shoulders fall.

“Ah, okay,” Steve pushes back from the table. “Yeah, okay. No worries.”

And Eddie feels, like, not great about this. He doesn’t like the disappointment he can see etched across Steve’s handsome features. So he reaches a hand across the vast wooden table, gesturing for Steve to stop.

“Wait,” he says, hand raised between them. “Listen, I’m… skeptical, to say the least. But. I’ll listen to your demo tonight, okay? And I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow. Is that… does that work?”

Steve nods quickly. “Yeah, dude. Yeah, that’s awesome. Thank you. Um. Do you… did Murray give you my number?”

“Here,” Eddie slides his notebook and pen across the table.

Steve picks up the pen, scrawling across the entire notebook page, before sliding it back toward Eddie. “My, uh, personal number.” Steve runs as hand through his highlighted hair. “I’m really looking forward to hearing your thoughts. Thanks, Eddie.” He reaches out again to shake Eddie’s hand and this time, Eddie knows he doesn’t imagine the way Steve’s fingers linger on his palm.

Eddie clears his throat. “Talk soon,” he says, smiling, before Steve is turning and leaving the room.

~*~

Eddie had gone to LA with stars in his eyes and big dreams circling his head. He’d had hopes of making it big, of thousands of people screaming his name. It had sounded so good back then, when he'd been trailer trash in the smallest, most close-minded town in the American Midwest. And it had kind of happened. He’d recorded an entire album, had even had a national tour. But he’d realized fairly quickly that it wasn’t what he’d really wanted. Performing was fun, but what he really cared about was the song-writing. The way a perfectly constructed verse could speak to someone, on a deep, intimate, important level. That’s why he cared about music, that’s why it had always been so important to him. It wasn't the performing or the flashing bulbs of cameras or the after parties filled with people who wanted to get close to fame. It was the songs. It was the words and the meanings behind them. It was what it all meant, down to the end of it all.

So Eddie had changed course. He’d begun song-writing instead, freelancing at first, selling a song here and a collab there. Until he’d been approached by Murray Bauman, who’d heard what he’d done on a Taylor Swift track and was impressed. Murray had offered him a job in New York, writing and producing, an office and a salary for the first time in his life. And Eddie loved what he got to do now, loved the tracks he produced for other people to sing. He’d thought it would feel strange, like he was missing out on something, but it didn’t. It just felt good.

That had been five years ago and now here he is, sliding Steve Harrington’s demo into the CD player in his living room. He presses play and crosses the room to grab a beer from his kitchen. Just as he's crossing the threshold between rooms, he hears the first three notes of the song and it stops him in his tracks. He tilts his head back toward the stereo.

Because the song isn't the sound of a boy band lead gone solo, belting out pop lyrics that would guarantee major radio play. This song is soft and melancholy, the poetic lyrics of a chorus crafted with vulnerability, a complicated bridge that ties it all together. The song ends and shifts, the guitar twang taking on a pop rock tempo, more upbeat than the last song. Steve's voice comes out, deep and honey-sweet, different than his boy band days. The lyrics are still sadder than Eddie would have thought and Eddie's impressed by the words juxtaposed with the upbeat instrumentals and the tone of Steve's vocals.

Eddie listens to all four songs standing there in the doorway between his living room and kitchen. Can't bear to tear himself away. And when the fourth and final song is over, Eddie crosses the room to click 'play' all over again.

~*~

Eddie waits to call Steve. He wants to call him immediately after his third listen, but he figures that it would be a bad idea to interrupt a client’s dinner or date or whatever former pop stars do on Thursday nights.

He spends all day at the office the next day listening to Steve’s first album on repeat. He thinks he can tell where Robin had helped with the lyrics, can see the ways the two of them have come together, and he can hear how their voices complement each other on the track she’s featured on. He listens to it on repeat for hours, before swapping it out for the new demo all over again. He thinks he can trace the way Steve’s voice has evolved since the first album, can see the places where his song-writing has matured. He spends the weekend deconstructing each song, finding the spots of vulnerability and the developed self-confidence that allows that vulnerability to take center stage. He feels a little guilty for not calling Steve, but he can’t imagine Steve’s sitting by the phone or anything anyway.

But the end of the weekend, Eddie knows he can’t say no to Steve Harrington. He knows that he has to be a part of this album, no matter what. That this project is going to be something magical, something unimaginable.

First thing Monday morning, Eddie calls Steve and makes a deal.

~*~

“Fuck, you have no idea how happy I am to hear from you,” Eddie hears Steve breathe down the phone line. “I’m such a huge fan and hearing what you did with Robin… I was worried you were gonna say no, y’know? When I didn’t hear from you?”

Eddie smiles to himself, small and involuntary. He’d never thought he’d hear Steve Harrington sounding so earnest.

“Well, to tell you the truth, I was just about ready to say no.” Eddie runs a hand through his hair and then shifts his phone from one ear to the other. “But I gave your demo a listen and I revisited your first album and I gotta tell you, I think there’s something really special there. I’m excited to see what we come up with.” He’s downplaying this, he knows it, but he doesn’t want to seem too eager. He doesn’t want Steve to know that he’ll probably die if he doesn’t get to work on this album. That’s probably a little too over dramatic, even for Eddie.

He hears Steve suck in a breath, can’t tell if that’s good or bad. “Dude, thank you. I’m so excited. This means a lot to me. Thanks, man.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna have my assistant call you in a few days to set up some meetings and get everything worked out, timeline-wise. I’ll be in touch soon.” Eddie has to get off the phone now, before he says something dumb as fuck.

“Awesome. Thanks again, Eddie,” Steve replies, before there’s nothing but a dial tone.

~*~

Eddie has Chrissy set up all the meetings, scheduling studio time and booking out the conference room.

For months, Eddie’s life revolves around Steve Harrington. All he can think about are what chord progressions will have Steve’s voice sounding its best, all heavy and sweet, or what rhyme scheme the chorus should have to enhance its emotional tenor in the way Steve wants.

They record together, Steve in the booth and Eddie at the console. Sometimes Robin joins them, happy to take on second guitar and suggest a new phrasing for a line that’s giving them trouble.

Steve enlists the same band he’d used on his first album and Eddie’s kind of impressed by how well they all seem to get along. How committed they are to helping Steve figure out the vision for this album.

Towards the end of recording—long months spent trying new things, taking out second guitar here, adding a keyboard track in there—Steve convinces Eddie to play lead guitar on one of the tracks they wrote together. It’s one of the unfinished ones from the demo Eddie had been so enchanted by, the one that Steve had said was giving him trouble on the bridge. They’d spent long nights in Eddie’s office ordering late-night pizzas and trying to figure out how to make the song work. Eddie was so frustrated he was about to suggest they just scrap the whole thing until Steve started drumming on one of the discarded pizza boxes, humming along with a switched-up melody, a reversal of what they already had, a dramatic shift from chorus to bridge and back again. Eddie couldn’t do anything but stare and then the words were coming, Steve finishing his sentences when Eddie stumbled searching for the right word. By morning, the song was finished.

Eddie agrees to play, if only because he loves the song so much, so proud of the work they’d put into it. It has nothing to do with the way Steve’s sweet smile spreads over his face or the faint pinkness Eddie can see rising in his cheeks. In the end, Eddie’s even convinced to lend his vocals to the song. He doesn’t let himself think about how good they sound together, Steve’s deep voice belting out the lyrics with Eddie’s softer cadence just underneath.

~*~

Steve goes out on tour almost immediately after they finish recording. The record label says there’s so much buzz around the album, so much anticipation, that they should strike while the iron is hot.

“Don’t forget about me out there on the road,” Eddie jokes, voice light and airy. He and Steve are at his favorite coffee shop, just down the street from his offices.

“Could never,” Steve tells him, smiling, tone just on the wrong side of serious. He takes a sip of his coffee.

They’ve been dancing around each other for months, probably since they’d started recording if Eddie’s really honest with himself. But Eddie has rules and he’s been burned before. So when they’ve finished their coffee, they part ways. Eddie wishes Steve luck on his tour and Steve says he’ll be in touch.

Eddie’s life goes back to normal.

~*~

They text sporadically. Eddie doesn’t mind. He remembers how chaotic and stressful tour had been when he’d done it and he hadn’t been nearly as huge as Steve is now. Eddie knows it’s an endless parade of meet-and-greets and sound checks and dress rehearsals, one day blending into another. He’s surprised Steve even reaches out to him at all.

Steve is set to perform the last show of his tour at Madison Square Garden. Eddie thinks about showing up, grabbing the free tickets he gets as part of the job and surprising Steve. He thinks about it a lot actually, all five months Steve’s gone, fantasizes about how Steve might greet him, how he’d pull him into the green room backstage and…

A week before the show, Steve calls him.

“Hey, man!” Steve sounds winded and breathy. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, y’know, same old same old.” Eddie tries to sound as casual as possible, but he can’t control the grin that spreads across his lips.

Steve laughs. “Yeah, I bet. Hey, listen, I only have a minute, but I was wondering if you’d be open to, uh. Coming to my show at the Garden?” Eddie thinks he might be imagining the nervous lilt to Steve’s voice, the unsure way he poses the question.

“Yeah, man, of course. I’d love to be there.”

“Great! I’ll text you the details.” Eddie doesn’t even have time to say goodbye before Steve has hung up on him.

~*~

The night of the concert, Eddie shows up backstage, feeling just a little out of place. He’d bypassed the front of house, but he hadn’t missed the line of young women and girls snaking out of the venue doors and onto the streets of Manhattan. He had known Steve was big, but he hadn’t imagined it would be like this.

A woman with short blonde hair leads Eddie into the green room. Steve’s getting his makeup done, but when he sees Eddie in the reflection of the mirror, his eyes light up and he smiles, wide and goofy. He pushes up from his chair and crosses the room, moving to pull Eddie into a hug before Eddie can even say anything, arms looped around Eddie’s neck. Steve is warm against him, his muscles firm and soft—a strange juxtaposition—as Eddie wraps his own arms around Steve’s waist.

“So happy you’re here,” Steve whispers against his ear, breath hot. Eddie can’t even react before Steve’s pulling away, crossing back over to his chair and dropping himself into it. Steve looks at Eddie in the reflection, their eyes meeting. “I have a favor to ask.” Steve suddenly sounds hesitant, fingers fidgeting in his lap.

“Oh, no,” Eddie jokes, winking at Steve in the mirror. “What is it this time?”

Steve blushes. “I know you don’t really perform anymore, but I was hoping you’d help me out with our song? It’s the last song of the show.”

The words our song echo in Eddie’s ears and he can’t help his smile. Sure, he doesn’t really perform anymore, but, he realizes in this moment, he’d do pretty much anything for Steve. The thought should be terrifying, but somehow it isn’t.

“Dude, that’s awesome.” Eddie watches Steve practically sag in relief. “I’d love to.”

Before long, Steve is being rushed around, manhandled on his way to the stage, and Eddie is left to follow behind so he can watch from the wings.

Eddie had thought he’d known Steve. They’d written and recorded together for months, felt every emotion possible in the time it had taken them to complete the album. But watching Steve perform is something else entirely. Steve glows under the harsh stage lights, smiling and charismatic as he jokes with the girls in the front row vying for his attention. It’s magical to watch Steve perform the songs they’d made together, to sing words from Eddie’s own brain. Eddie is transfixed by the way Steve’s lips wrap around each note, like each word that comes out of his mouth is the most important word that’s ever been spoken. Steve is otherworldly on stage.

“For the last song, I have a surprise,” Steve stops in front of the mic stand as someone rushes to bring him his favorite guitar. He pulls the strap over his head. Someone on the side of the stage nudges Eddie, holding out a guitar that Eddie’s never seen before. If he’d known about this, he would have brought his own beloved sweetheart, but he’ll have to make do with what he has. No backing out now. “You’ve probably heard of Eddie Munson.” Steve smiles as the crowd cheers. “Yeah, he’s a huge deal. He’s worked with everyone from Taylor Swift and Phoebe Bridgers to Bruce Springsteen and Metallica.” The crowd cheers again. “I worked really closely with him on this album,” Steve smiles. “And he took something raw and messy and made it so fucking great.” The crowd screams. “I always close the show with my favorite song off the album. It’s the one that took us the longest to write. We were so frustrated, I thought Eddie was gonna tell me to just forget it. We spent so many all-nighters stuffing our faces with pizza and cursing ourselves for ever even thinking we should write this stupid fucking song.” Steve laughs with the crowd. “But then, one night it all clicked. It all came together. It was like magic, sitting there with Eddie on some ugly couch in his office, just about ready to give up. We made magic together.” Steve looks out at the crowd. “So. Eddie’s here to help me share this song with you.” The crowd goes wild as someone pushes Eddie out onto the stage, but Eddie’s eyes are fixed on Steve, who’s smiling at him from under the lights, eyes crinkling in the corners.

Playing the song is easier than Eddie had thought it would be. The notes come to him like muscle memory, like he could play this song in his sleep. He can’t take his attention away from Steve where he sings into the microphone. It’s all too much for his heart to handle. He feels like he might die here, right on the spot.

Just as suddenly as it had started, it’s all over. The crowd is deafening and Eddie’s got a smile on his face so wide his cheeks ache. Steve waves to the crowd before taking Eddie’s hand and leading him off stage.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes out, pulling Eddie along down the backstage hallways back towards the green room. “That was un-fucking-real.” Steve’s smiling, cheeks red.

Eddie can’t say anything at all. All he can do is follow helplessly behind Steve, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. His heartbeat so loud he’s sure Steve can hear it.

They’re back in the green room before Eddie can even blink. Suddenly, his back is pressed up against the closed door, Steve practically plastered to his front. He can barely breathe as Steve’s lips crash into his.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling back slightly. His breath is hot against Eddie’s lips. “Been thinking about you for months.” His voice is soft, barely there.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie groans, running a hand through Steve’s hair, trying to pull him back in. “It’s so okay, Stevie.”

Steve lets out a groan of his own and then he’s kissing Eddie again, lips parting and tongue curling against Eddie’s.

Eddie’s not sure how long they stand there pressed up against the wall, hands tangled in hair, kissing each other breathless. All too soon a knock comes from the other side of the door and they jump apart.

“Steve?” A muffled voice calls out from the hallway. “You have a meet-and-greet in five.”

Steve looks at Eddie, laughing a little. “Fuck, sorry, I forgot,” he whispers, before raising his voice to respond to whoever’s outside, “Okay, just a minute!” He kisses Eddie one last time, soft and so sweet. “Come with me?” He asks.

Eddie nods and follows after Steve.

~*~

Eddie watches from the sidelines as Steve takes picture after picture. It’s kind of uncanny, the way Steve’s smile seems genuine in every photo he takes, the interest he seems to take in every person who comes to meet him.

The line has dwindled down when the next group of fans catch sight of Eddie in the shadows. “Oh my god!” One of the girls squeals, before turning toward Steve. “Can we get a picture with you and Eddie?”

Steve laughs, already nodding, before turning towards Eddie. “You mind?” He asks, holding his hand out for Eddie. Eddie slides his hand into Steve’s and has his picture taken.

~*~

After, Steve invites Eddie back to his fancy hotel room, but Eddie counters by inviting Steve to his apartment. Steve’s face brightens, clearly excited to see where Eddie lives. Eddie tries to mentally envision how he’d left his apartment, thinks it’s probably safe for world-famous superstars to visit.

They take Steve’s car, his driver dutifully ignoring whatever’s going on in the back seat, and by the time they make it up the six floors to Eddie’s door, they can’t keep their hands off each other. They crash through the front door, attached at the lips. They stumble down the hallway to Eddie’s bedroom and Eddie all but tackles Steve down into the sheets.

The next morning, Steve insists on making a homemade breakfast. Eddie rarely cooks, but by some miracle, he’s got eggs and bacon in his fridge. Eddie knows he’s got a dopey look on his face as he sits at the kitchen table, chin in his hand, watching Steve move around his space.

Later, when they’re curled up together on the couch and Steve is dozing against his chest, Eddie scrolls through his Instagram feed. He’s tagged in a ton of photos from the night before, up on stage with Steve, eyes fixed on each other as they play their guitars, crisscrossing beams of light all around them. He scrolls for a few more moments, before he sees the picture they’d taken together at the meet-and-greet, with the three girls who’d asked for a picture with Steve and Eddie. Steve’s blushing, his hand still holding Eddie’s, a wide smile on his face. Eddie’s just as flushed, eyes glassy, but he’s not even looking at the camera, face turned toward Steve instead. He looks lovestruck. It would be embarrassing, but Steve shifts in his arms, letting out a tiny little sound from the back of his throat.

Eddie screenshots the photo and saves it to his camera roll.

~*~

@thecaptainsgingersnap gave me “dealer's choice lyrics from Superstar” :)

This turned out waaaaayyyyyyy longer than I originally planned, so I probably should’ve split it into two posts, but here we are. Hope you enjoy it!!

[ijuststareatstuffhereok89]

One: “Thanks, I Hate You”

You and your arrogant PR client are bitter rivals, and there’s no length Loki won’t go to just to watch you squirm. Just when you think you’re going to get a much-needed break from the Great Redeemed Prince’s ego, you’re tapped to escort him to, of all things, a peace summit in Australia. 

CONTENT WARNING: Loki's an asshole

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

MASTERLIST

“Mr. Odinson, tell me, how does it feel to be reformed for eighteen months now?”

“Mr. Laufeyson, actually, and it feels absolutely incredible, it’s as if my soul is free at last!”

“And you have no more genocidal urges or Asgardian instincts to kill?”

“Never again will I do harm to the people of this planet, who have so kindly agreed to give me a second chance after removing the influence of my--err---the scepter.”

Loki’s shit-eating grin unfolded across his face, but to the untrained eye, he looked every bit the contrite warlord who fell in love with the world he’d once targeted for conquest. He could twitch and tweak every muscle in his face into the optimal layout for ass-kissing, and the only ones who were ever wise were you and the rest of the team. 

“At least he plays the part well,” you said bitterly to Tony, leaning over to mutter in his ear while watching the former ‘God’ play up the press like they were at a rock concert. Some of the reporters looked downright charmed, but you knew better. You were more interested in the snow flurries that were falling outside the window.

Tony shrugged. “Yeah, he’s okay.”

You sneered, rolling your eyes with disbelief. “Until the flash bulbs stop. Then he becomes a baboon’s taint.” 

Stark muffled a snort of laughter with his fist. “Always one for eloquence. That’s why I hired you.”

“I’m also the only one around willing to wrangle that,” you paused, pointing at Loki as he folded his hands into a prayer pose, expressing gratitude for the praise he was receiving, “for your pittance of an asking price.” 

“I pay you well,” Tony shot back in defense. “Loki knows how to keep up appearances--”

“--he took off his pants in the lunchroom yesterday to annoy me--” 

“--most of the time.” 

You folded your arms across your chest, glancing at the clock on the wall behind Loki as things in the press room wrapped up. In his very basic outfit: a dress shirt and tie, black slacks, and a tight, professional ponytail, he looked dashing enough. You’d known the truth about him for the eighteen months since you were hired to be his PR manager: Loki had all of the behavioral maturity of an eight-year-old high on pixie sticks.  He loved attention, always jutting out his hips when he strutted about the complex, flipping his hair over his shoulder. 

Loki loved to paint himself as the very model of a modern major comeback story. At first, it was for self-preservation. The terms of his parole as set forth by the UN were strict, and the best course of action to keep his freedom was to play by their rules. Over the next year-and-a-half, however, once it was clear that his image was evolving into that of a celebrity, Loki took the idea and ran with it, and he only used your unsavory opinion of his to fuel the fire he lit under your feet every chance he got.

It was almost as if he targeted you with most of his snarks and jests, always calling you every synonym for ‘boring’ he could muster. For a while, you could brush him off, but after the repeated comments, you began to push back…which led you to your current relationship status: tense at best, resentful and irritable more frequently. 

You could not stand him! He never listened to your advice on how to conduct himself in public. One of his favorite pastimes was inviting the worst kinds of people over for sex, and then making you call them afterwards to dump them. “Loki isn’t sure he’s ready to fully commit to one person yet, but last night will always live in his memory…” It was degrading, gross, and such a slimeball move. You always sent each of his poor conquests a fruit basket the size of SoHo. 

The only reason you refused to resign was that you really needed the money. Despite your repeated complaints, Tony was actually paying you very well. You could afford an apartment with a private toilet in Manhattan, anyway. 

“And that’s all we have time for this afternoon, everyone,” Tony leapt onto the stage and gently nudged Loki away from the podium.  “We’re all proud of Loki’s rehabilitation, as well as his decision to live among us and help the Avengers keep this world safe.” 

The applause was thunderous. You bit your lower lip and got another glimpse of the snow squall outside while Loki bowed and mouthed thanks to his supporters. Every second you could successfully divert your attention away from the Asgardian was a victory. Alas, it was temporary. 

As soon as he left the stage, he gave you a smarmy, evil wink. “Better than ever, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hercules couldn’t clean out all the bullshit in your stables, Loki,” you said with an exasperated sigh. 

“Successfully convincing the world of your contrition is an art, you know.”

“So is painting on walls with shit, to some.”

Loki couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, You were the most feisty woman he’d ever met, aside from maybe Natasha Romanoff. “I see we’re fond of the scatalogical comebacks today. Doesn’t that mean your menses are coming on?”

You could have whirled around on your heels and punched him, but your restraint was enough to keep your professional demeanor, at least until you were out of public sight and in one of the private areas. There were still a LOT of people around and your entire job was keeping up appearances for both yourself and your charge. “I have a headache today, Loki, please shut up and let me do my job.” 

“So it is your cycle!” he chortled, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you know what they say helps with menstrual cramps?”

“Don’t!” you warned between gritting teeth, giving Loki a glare of death. “I mean it!”

Loki paused, as if he was actually going to listen. Then he opened his trap, and it came out: “a good hard dicking!” 

There it was. Your line. Loki had crossed it so far that he was about to meet customs on the other side. 

You slapped him across his right cheek hard enough for his head to whip to the side. Of course, he was able to recover from it quickly, only to pout his lips and widen his eyes when several gasps from the reporters still in the press room silenced everything else. Loki’s snarky smile never left his face, especially as he looked back at you with a somewhat more venomous twinge. 

“It’s 2024,” you scowled, “try something less sexist than blaming my period next time, assbag.”

“So violent,” he said lightly. “So attractive. No wonder you have so many dates…oh wait, that’s me!” he said mockingly, putting a hand over his heart and acting surprised. “I have all the dates, and you’re the one who resents that and takes it out on me by hitting me in front of all of my friends!” 

He dropped his sarcastic smile, replacing it with narrow, threatening eyes and a thin frown. “Embarrass me like that again, woman, I dare you.” 

“I only resent that you make me clean your dirty sheets afterwards, asshole,” you answered. “I don’t really care how many strains of herpes you intend to collect from the Greater New York area. You’re a pampered little twat, and I really do deserve more money for babysitting you.”

You started to leave, but you quickly thought better of it and walked back to say one more thing. “And I will gladly smack you in front of these people any day of the week! No one else is going to put you in your place!”

“And what place is that, Madam?” he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow. 

Nearby, a young blonde reporter who was clearly one of Loki’s fans had taken special interest, and was trying to shoot as many desperate glances at him as she could, asking for her turn in his bed with only verbal cues from across a crowded room. 

“I’d say Hell, but you probably have a permanent residence there already.” 

You noticed the blonde was starting to inch closer, and in her stupid, beady little eyes you saw your escape. “I think I see your Skank of the Day coming in for the steal right now.”

Loki turned to look at the blonde reporter, and he looked somewhat unimpressed. “I suppose. The only other creature in here with any sort of beauty is--”

He stopped mid-thought and decided to go back into his debonair facade, waving you away snobbishly and sticking his nose up. “You’re done for the day, I think. Now please leave me to woo this exquisite little doll who approaches…”

You did have some work you needed him for. There was a peace summit in Australia hosted by Amnesty International, and Loki was a keynote speaker, having been spared from the death penalty and turned into the Earth’s darling. He was the world’s most instantly-recognizable proof that anyone could be rehabilitated, which made him a highly desirable motivational speaker. The summit was in three days, and you needed to brief him on the PR person taking over your duties once he crossed the international dateline. 

He could terrorize the Land Down Under for five days all he wanted. You were about to have your first vacation from the miserable fucker since starting your job. This was going to be your Christmas. 

However, you didn’t feel like dragging him away from the little hopeful moving in on him, and instead you decided to begin packing your bag for your long-desired break from Loki. 

“She what?!” you growled in anger, turning away from Stark and Banner to hide that fact that you were almost instantly upset by their news. 

“Mrs. Donner resigned yesterday,” said Bruce Banner, twiddling his thumbs apprehensively, making him look like a human-sized pangolin. “She’s not taking Loki to Australia.”

“WHY NOT? She’s more qualified than I am!” you bullshitted, doing anything to try and convince these two to go after her. You knew what this meant, but you weren’t ready to accept it just yet. You were a fighter, and you sure as hell weren’t going to sacrifice your time off now.

“She’s also a Mormon. I’m surprised she put up with Loki’s harassment as long as she has,” replied Banner. 

“Or maybe she enjoyed it so much she had to jet off to Planet More-Men or whatever heaven is for them,” Stark mumbled. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, brushing the air in front of you as if erasing something off of an invisible chalk board, “what does matter is who we are going to send him with. His parole terms state he cannot cross international boundaries alone.” 

“C”mon, Y/N, you know where this is going!” said Tony with a wink. 

“No,” you said firmly.

“It’ll be summer down there,” said Banner, “It’ll be nicer than here in New York.”

“No!” you repeated. “My vacation!”

Stark rolled his eyes. “I know, I know, that’s why I’m offering you a month’s paid sabbatical after you return.”

“No…I…what?” your fast, angry thoughts slowed on the conveyor belt as you began processing his counteroffer. “I was only scheduled for a week!” 

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I’m quadrupling that right now, I’ll even get it in writing if you want. I can do that. I’m awesome like that.”

A month! A month without Loki poking fun of your ‘menses’ or humiliating you with jests and quips under his breath. A whole month of sleeping in late, dressing like a slob, and not worrying about how you or any client of yours appeared to the public. Tony Stark certainly knew how to play your game. 

“You must be desperate,” you sighed, thinking about it.

“Well, if Loki can’t attend the summit, it’ll look kinda bad,” Bruce added, his low, bashful voice somewhat harder to hear than Tony’s confident tone. 

“I’ll get you VIP passes to any club in the city for the whole month you’re off,” Tony added. “Four of them. And unlimited cocktail service. Live like a movie star for the next month, and all you have to do is babysit our little horndog for five days in Aussieland this week.” 

“Deal,” you acquiesced at last, not missing a beat. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” 

All three of you turned your heads toward the intrusive new voice in the room. Loki was leaning against the doorway to the office, arms folded, a shit-eating sneer on his face. You felt your skin go hot at his sudden, unwelcome appearance. 

“I was hoping that my exertions manipulating that old dowager into quitting would bear fruit, and now it seems I’m just time for my little trip with my dearest friend in the Realm!” 

“Easy, Lokes,” said Stark, holding back a laugh. “Don’t push it, ok?”

You bit your lip to keep your temper. It didn’t make any difference if you kept protesting. You’d taken Stark’s carrot, and now you had five days of this jester’s extraterrestrial farts to sniff.

“Oh, I’m sure the next few days will include plenty of pushing about,” said Loki. 

Tony raised an eyebrow and began following Banner as he snuck out of the room. “Be on the roof tomorrow morning. Oh, and uh, the quinjet has got some issues so it can’t go any faster than Mach 1.5 right now. Means it’ll take a little longer to get out there. Hope you two can get comfortable with one another real fast.” 

“You…you set this up,” you hissed, your anger bubbling to the surface now that your employer was out of range. “I ought to ask your father to hang you.”

This only made him laugh. “He would only love the pleasure, I’m sure.”

And I would love to see your corpse swinging by the neck, you thought.  “Why? Why did you do this?” you asked with frustration. “You hate me and I absolutely hate you, Loki, so why force us to be in closer proximity for longer than necessary?”

“Oh, I couldn’t stand the idea of being apart from you, sweet pea! It’s my greatest delight in life to always hover five paces behind you and piss you off. The mere idea of being so far away for so long!” Loki brought a mocking hand to his heart, expressing fake sadness in both his body and face. “My heart would only cry for you.”

“I should just make you go alone and make an ass of yourself,” you suggested. “Maybe some Australian hell-beast will swallow you whole.”

“Oh-ho! By all means,” Loki chuckled, throwing his head back. “Let me loose without supervision in a foreign country as the sole representative of the United States, the Nine Realms, and the Avengers. That will go over well for all of us.”

Your jaw hung open, no witty retorts for him, Unfortunately, he was right. Punking out would in one way or another, only serve to humiliate yourself and Stark.

“Ah, ah…” Loki tucked a finger under your chin, nudging your mouth closed by poking your chin upward, “You’ll catch flies.” 

He left you there, speechless in the middle of the room, only turning back in the doorway to add: “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow, darling!”

Before going to bed that night, curled up in your sad little futon in your one-bedroom loft, you prayed to every god that wasn’t Asgardian that there would be some kind of apocalyptic blizzard that popped up out of nowhere, forcing the takeoff to be delayed. Inclement weather was probably the only acceptable excuse for Loki to be a no-show down in Sydney. WHile the city didn;t necessarily get as much snow as upstate near the lakes, it usually took a few inches to shut the whole place down. There was hope. Perhaps the weatherfolks were keeping it a surprise…

This meant, of course, that the next morning was the first perfectly sunny morning New York had seen in weeks. In a small act of rebellion against the little shit you had to babysit, you chose to take your sweet time getting in. You purposefully dragged your feet down to the subway, your suitcase dragging along like a weight tethered to your wrist. You saw an abnormally-long line outside of a coffee shop and decided to stop in for an Americano. 

By the time you made it to the rooftop of Stark Tower, you were over an hour late, which was not typical for you. The jet was otherwise prepped, the diminutive young pilot tapping his feet impatiently by the nose, Stark and Loki just tossing the last of his belongings in around the side. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” said Tony. 

Loki dropped what he was doing and shuffled up to you. He gave a mock bow, taking your hand and laying a big wet kiss on the back of it. “My escort, how lovely to finally see your bright face ready for our trip!”

“Die.”

Loki pouted. “Oh, is that any way to greet your business partner? I asked for you to be at my side all week long! Don’t you think I’m owed a little more courtesy?”

“Please die.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Just before you boarded, Tony gave you a wink and one last piece of advice: “Remember, when the going gets tough, lie back and think of England.”

The last thing he saw before the doors shut was your middle finger. 

Once the pilot got the quinjet into the air, he announced that he’d need to take his time in order to appease whatever yet-to-be-diagnosed tech issue the plane had, and prevent something from happening. 

“Ugh, so what’s our ETA, then?” Loki asked impatiently, the saccharine facade dropping the instant he was out of Stark’s view. 

The pilot shrugged. “I can get us there safely in five hours, maybe.”

“FIVE HOURS?” you groaned. “This thing is--”

“--gonna disintegrate if I don’t treat it gently,” he shot back. “Relax! It’s still a hell of a lot faster than if you were flying in a Boeing, okay?”

You and Loki looked at each other with annoyance. You sighed and went to sit as far away from the cockpit as you could, taking a green-jacketed book from your shoulder bag and flipping it open a bit too dramatically. 

Unfortunately, Loki didn’t seem to take the hint, sitting beside you and peeking over your shoulder. 

“You kept us waiting on purpose,” he accused. “You’re a bit of a brat, you know.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Gently shutting the book, you turned to Loki with the most serious expression you could muster without losing your professionalism. 

“Look, Laufeyson, you’re the one who set this up for us. If I had to venture a guess, it’s because you’re bored and needed a new way to make me miserable. But let’s make one thing perfectly clear: I hate you. I can’t stand your smarmy face and how you get off on making me crazy! Every time you open your mouth, it makes me want to drop-kick an orphan! I’d rather have a root canal while on ecstasy every day for the rest of my life than be sitting right here next to you.”

Loki didn’t blink. “...and how does that make you feel?”

“But I’m getting my big payout when this is all over, so for FUCK’S SAKE, let’s make this easy on both of us? You don’t bother me, I won’t bother you. You can find a kangaroo’s pouch to ride around in for all I care.” You went to open your book again, but Loki laid a firm hand over top of it. 

“I’m hurt. Truly.”

You snickered. “Sure.”

“You know what your problem is?” Loki leaned back, crossing his hands casually. “You’re too uptight.”

“Uptight? You call me defending myself against all of your abuse UPTIGHT?” you growled from behind your gritted teeth. 

“Well, it wasn’t abuse at first,” Loki added, “I was only making jokes to say hello!”

“Bullshit,” you said angrily. “The day we met, you called me a servant and asked if I would massage your feet.”

“Well, now it’s just fun for me to watch you lose your temper,” he admitted. “The thought of being alone with you to twist and push every button you’ve got just to see how loudly you’d shout…”

“Stop it, Loki! I’d rather this plane go down right now than be alone with you. Ever!”

Tags: @anukulee @jiyascepter @wolfsmom1 @cakesandtom @holdmytesseract @simplyholl @lokisgoodgirl @mjsthrillernp @meowmeow-motherfucker @foxherder @letstalkaboutshtufff @ladymischief11 @libby-bibby @javagirl328 @crimson25 @lcolumbia1988 @gruftiela @mochie85 @huntress-artemiss @loz-3 @kikster606 @muddyorbsblr @sheris532 @lokischambermaid @kneelingformyloki @soulpiercing @goddessgirl43 @canigetanap @theoneandonlythorn @forleiasake @eleniblue @knight-of-the-doctor @goblingirlsarah @clusterfuck-meup @mischief2sarawr @cabingrlandrandomcrap @kats72 @glitchquake @zippythewondersquirrel @ameliariddle @alexakeyloveloki @lovingchoices14

[camilaxmartin]

velvette stressing about a date with reader/getting ready

so stressed, obsessed

navigation // rules // masterlist

summary: how the getting ready for a date looks from velvette perspective

warnings: NOT PROOF READ; some cursing probably, you can count some parts as suggestive

note: i made headcanons out of this cause it fitted more for me (it just looks like headcanons it’s literally a one shot but let’s skip that) i was having a stressful night and just wanted to get it out:)

note 1.2: i love writing my princess as a mess cause as much as she loves being organised i can’t get messy velvette out of my head:) - it’s about balance yk?

requests: open!!

ღ | velvette was soo excited about the date and hear me out, so excited. of course, she was going on a lot of dates i mean look at this girl but this time it felt… different

ღ | the time you asked her out (cause we both know she wouldn’t do it if she actually liked someone and was nervous around them) she tried to play it off and it actually worked until you heard her little giggle when she thought you wouldn’t be able to hear it

ღ | the first thing she did after you’ve asked her out was literally stumble through her whole wardrobe to find something to wear that night you two were gonna meet up. she shuffled through all of her clothes and groaned in frustration as nothing was even close to being enough to what she had in mind for that night

ღ | velvette decided she was gonna try and make something to wear and the start of it was really promising, but soon after she got to like half the dress she thrown it out of her hands and groaned loudly not feeling like her skills were enough (which is fucking RARE for this girl)

ღ | she grabbed her phone and looked up some dresses online trying to find *the one* but nothing seemed right to her. she locked her phone and thrown it away on the ground, jumping on her bed and falling with her face right into her pillows. she wanted everything to be perfect and yet it felt like the whole hell was against her

ღ | soon after her mumbling to herself that everything is shit and she shouldn’t even go on this date, she fell asleep her hair getting out of control, as always when she slept without earlier preparation for it

ღ | the next morning she woke up on her own, her eyes opening slightly as she had no clue she had fallen asleep the day before. she sat up on her bed and unwilling stumbled out of it to grab her phone and check the time

ღ | her hair literally straightened out on its own when she saw the time. it was way too late for her usual routine and by now she should’ve been already in her studio preparing her show. she groaned, which was like literally the only noice she was making for the past two days, and send vox a quick message that she won’t be able to make it today so he has to think something out

ღ | she sighed as she thrown her phone away once again and laid back down starring at the ceiling, rethinking every decision she has ever made in her entire life

ღ | after about half an hour she was already in front of her wardrobe looking for something at least decent to wear for tonight. after many and i mean, many difficulties she has finally chosen a dress matching it with some high boots, a silky jacket and a small purse in the same color as that dress. she wasn’t fully proud and happy with the choice but it was the best she could do. she rolled her eyes throwing that outfit on her bed and stormed into her bathroom knowing she’s already way too behind in her daily routine

ღ | because she has fallen asleep yesterday without planning it first, she had no idea what hairstyle should she wear for tonight. i mean sure- she has thought about it a million times already but hasn’t decided on anything yet. she looked herself in the mirror her hands immediately touching her face in all the spots she wanted to change or just get fixed and sighed feeling her anxiety rising up

ღ | velvette shook her head, took out her phone putting on her favourite playlist to get ready, and undressed, getting into the shower and preparing for one of the longest showers of her life. she turned the water on, heat of it hitting her skin immediately as she sighed in pleasure, getting her favourite shampoo and razor from one of the shelves. she bubbled up her hair and rinsed it out almost immediately putting on some conditioner and making sure not to wet her hair for a while. she then get to washing and dolling up all of her body. she quickly shaved her legs, armpits and decided to shave between her legs as well i mean- you never know what can happen right? especially if you’re in hell

ღ | after removing all of that hair from her body, she rinsed herself off and put on body scrub, scrubbing all of her dead skin off and doing it a bit too aggressively for her liking but what you’re not doing for beauty right? she rinsed off the body scrub as well and finally cleaned her whole body with rose soap getting herself all nice and clean. then she rinsed the conditioner from her hair and washed it with shampoo one again

ღ | finally, she stopped the water and get out of the shower shaking her head before getting out. she grabbed her favourite towel and wrapped it around herself, grabbing a special towel for her hair and wrapping it up as well. she looked herself in the mirror once again and smiled, handing for a body cream to get herself even more soft than she already has been

ღ | after doing so, she took out her face cosmetics and washed her face, doing a face mask in the spare time and then putting on milion of her creams and serums to made sure she was perfect for tonight

ღ | she took a deep breath as she looked at the time and realised she had to fasten up the whole process a bit. she unwrapped her hair from the towel and thrown it on the glass of her shower to dry, as she shook her head once again to feel if her hair needs fake drying or not

ღ | velvette whined and walked out of her bathroom still wrapped in her towel, as she walked over to her wardrobe to pick out some underwear. she quickly decided on a red set with pink and blue hearts on it, and panties that didn’t leave much to imagine. she smirked looking down at it, hoping she wouldn’t wear it for nothing tonight as she walked back to her bathroom putting it on

ღ | being in only her underwear she got started on her makeup knowing it’s probably going to take up most of her time. she took out all of her cosmetics and stuff and got to work. she was singing along to her playlist and actually having a good time while putting all of it on, her mind letting her anxiety go down for a few moments. she was doing her usual routine with her makeup, but also added small hearts around her eyes, something she didn’t do normally, every one of them matching her eyeshadow

ღ | when she was done she looked at the time and realised she needed to be ready in about an hour. her eyes widened as she stormed out of the bathroom and grabbed her picked out outfit, walking over to the huge mirror in her room looking herself up and down. she smiled to herself seeing her body, she was never the one to be insecure about it or at least that’s what she was telling herself, and started putting on the dress having a little trouble with it as she was trying not to get it wet with her still wet hair. she let out a sigh as she managed to put on the dress without any unwanted problems and sat down on the floor to put on her boots. she bit her lip, her thoughts going to the planned date again as she felt her nerves rising again. she took a deep breath trying to calm herself but it did nothing. she zipped up one of her boots and looked at it in the mirror smiling and admitting to herself that it didn’t actually look as bad as she thought it did. she quickly put on the other boot and made a little spin in front of her mirror admiring how her look turned out

ღ | she took another deep breath and ran to the bathroom to dry her hair. she looked at the time and tried not to freak out more as the hour of your meeting was getting closer and closer. she took out the hairdryer from one of the cabinets and plugged it in, knowing it’s gonna take her a while to get at least a presentable hairstyle

ღ | she has been drying her hair and drying as finally they become fully dry. she smiled to herself in the mirror and when she glanced at the time she instantly freaked out. if she didn’t leave now, she’d be late. but her hair wasn’t fully done

ღ | velvette bite her lip and grabbed her phone writing you a message that she was gonna be late a bit and trying not to make it sound as nervous as she was feeling at that moment. did it work? you can just imagine how that message look, i mean it was something along the lines of:

hiya babes, i’m gonna be a little bit late, hope you will wait for me xx

or

i’m running late, so just wait for me and don’t you dare say anything about it when i finally get there, see ya xoxo

ღ | safe to say she was even more stressed out now. she quickly grabbed her hairbrush and started aggressively brushing her hair getting mad at herself more with every second and every brush passing. she let out a whine sounding like she was at the edge of crying and looked at herself in the mirror reminding herself, that she can’t cry now as it would ruin her makeup and she’d need even more time to fix it

ღ | velvette took a deep breath and grabbed another conditioner to style her hair. after a few moments she managed to pull her iconic two ponytails while leaving her bangs curled (like her natural hair, i have ep. 8 in mind)

ღ | she smiled to herself admiring how good she actually looked and quickly grabbed her phone storming out of her bathroom, grabbing her early picked-out jacket along with her purse and immediately left the vee’s building like it was literally on fire

ღ | as she was walking to the spot you two agreed on, she felt like her whole skin was on fire, her heart was pounding in her chest and the biggest lump was forming in her throat. she tried calming down as she started brainlessly scrolling through all of her social media’s but nothing seemed to help. she shoved her phone annoyed into her purse and cursed herself in her mind for choosing such a small one. her thoughts were getting louder and louder with every second, even starting to tell her that this whole date was a huge mistake and she shouldn’t have agreed to it

ღ | she was inside her head the whole time as she finally reached the spot you two chose and saw you standing before it, waiting for her yet not looking mad that she was late. her head became empty in a second and an uncontrollable smile creeped onto her face as she walked over to you with her usual confidence, yet her stomach was starting to fill up with butterflies. she finally reached you and greeted you with a small wave and a simple “hi” to which you immediately responded with another “hi”, wide smile and a wave back

ღ | velvette was sure there and then that no matter what outfit she would’ve picked or whatever hairstyle she pulled or if she even showed up two hours late looking like an old windbag (see what i did here?;) all of her doubts would leave instantly when she saw your beautiful smile that was apparently reserved for her only

ღ | the date, obviously, went amazingly and you guys picked out another day to meet up once again, despite the fact that that night velvette wasn’t alone walking back to the vee’s tower and definitely wasn’t the only one sleeping in her bed

ღ | the hopes she had while picking out the underwear before going out definitely got fulfilled

[bakubunny]

so im not a brat at all, who in bnha do u think would love the good girls, the eager to please girls, best ? (:<

finally a question i can answer. 😭 i’m not a brat either. i hate punishment and the thought of doing smth just to get under someone’s skin makes me itch. that being said, my faves are my faves for a reason. 😉 i headcanon a lot of them into this category.

and i personally believe that most people - until they’re with a brat - don’t know how demanding that type of dynamic can be. there’s nothing wrong with it, but i would say that true “brat tamers” (i don’t like that term but whatever) are pretty rare because you have to be okay with the constant pushback from your sub. and most doms get drained by that rather than energized from it.

but i digress, here we gooooo 🥳

togata. listen. i said this before i started really writing ddlg/age play content for bnha: if we’re strictly looking at character traits readily exhibited in canon, togata is the first and really only character i could easily see as a true daddy dom of a little sub, the whole bit. he loves a person that’s eager to please, and his dominance style is heavily based on praise, gentle guidance, and seeing his sub flourish. togata does not get enough love, but i also say that knowing i may not write him very often bc i love my grumpy grump soft boys (see below).

aizawa. he’s got big daddy dom energy, but he doesn’t have the mental or emotional energy for constant give and take of bratting. just looking at young aizawa can tell you a lot about him: he’s much more sensitive than he lets on to the outside world, and he’s incredibly caring. he can put you in your place if necessary, but by far, he prefers obedient, pliant, good, etc. it makes him all soft and warm inside to see you smile and flourish under his care ion make the rules.

bakugo. you’d think he has the energy to be a brat tamer (that’s actually izu) because he can put you in your place so easily, but i think the moment someone who truly loves obedience and being good captures his heart, he’s such a softie. 😭 he loves it. it makes his heart race to have his little sweetie so eager to please.

todoroki. he’s not a brat tamer. at all. in fact i think punishment in general but esp anything that doesn’t involve pleasure is a hard limit for him.

yamada. soft dom/switch vibes for dayyysss. he loves good girls but doesn’t mind playful bratting.

kaminari. he’s kind of bratty as a sub, but as a switch/soft dom, but he doesn’t like coming down with a strong arm. he doesn’t mind a little give and take, finds it fun actually, but he thinks obedience is just adorable and he loves it.

toshinori. he’s so soft ok 😭 maybe in his younger days, he would have liked the push and pull, but he loves sweetheart who love to please. and after the life he’s had, he deserves a damn break.

tokoyami. sure he’s high protocol for the most part (imo), but he’s big on the appearance of innocence and has a corruption kink. obedient, pliant sweethearts make him crazy.

kirishima and iida could go either way i feel, but they love giving praise, and good girls are great for that.

midoriya has definite brat tamer energy, but he’s like kiri. he loves giving praise, guiding, obedience, softness, etc. don’t think he’d mind a good girl. i think he’d enjoy it quite a bit, but that playfulness and willingness to punish for your benefit should not go to waste. 🫣

chisaki. (i don’t like him but listen.) mostly because disobedient pets irritate the hell out of him. he doesn’t have the patience or playfulness needed for a brat, frankly. but obedient pets put a twinkle in his eye.

mashirao gives kind, soft dom vibes and i will take no further questions at this time. 🫣 he loves a good girl.

amajiki also gives soft dom vibes like ojiro. he can be a hard ass every once in a while, but he likes obedience.

@dcsiremc @neon-gothicc @heartofjasmina @sunflower-emoji thought you’d like this

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 3) - toji f. x reader

masterlist

part two | part four

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, cheating, underage (mentions they have sex, but nothing explict, toji and reader are high school freshmen), mentioned eating disorder (not really a disorder, reader just forgets to eat, tag is just in case), mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 3.4k

You had met Toji in your first year of high school at some house party. Some sophomore that Utahime knew was throwing it, giving the two of you an in. 

You and Utahime had been dancing on the dude’s couch, bottles in hand. You had never really drank before, but you made sure to keep yourself aware enough to get the two of you home by the end of the night. Your house was a fifteen minute walk from here, and your plan was to sneak the two of you through your window before three. 

That’s when you saw him. He was leaning against the wall talking to some girl. Just by his looks, you thought he might have been a couple years above you. He was tall, taller than most guys in the house, and definitely more muscular. You were immediately attracted, Utahime giggled at you once she saw where you were looking. “You should go talk to him!” She slurred, still moving to the sound of the music with you. 

“Seems like he’s got his hands busy.” You whisper-yelled over the music. He had them all over that girl.

“Utahime!” You heard from below the two of you. Hakari, the guy whose house this was (and your future coworker), held on to her hand as she almost stumbled over to look down at him. “We’re gonna play seven minutes in heaven! Y’all wanna come?” 

“That’s fucking corny!” Utahime giggled, “Let’s go, Y/N!” The two of you followed in a straight line behind Hakari to a relatively empty, but still extremely loud hallway. You all sat down in a circle with a group of students you didn’t recognize. 

“Hey, you guys weren’t gonna start the fun without us, right?” You hear from behind you. It’s the guy from earlier. He pushes his hair (you think it's black, but can’t tell from the lighting) back and takes a swig of a beer bottle. The girl from earlier is with him, along with another guy you didn’t recognize. 

“Toji, let us use that bottle. Hakari broke the other one!” One guy yells over the music. “Thought this was seven minutes in heaven,” A girl with stark white hair begins, “You don’t need a bottle for that game.” 

“Too much work to write everyone’s names down, there’s a bunch of freshmen here. I don’t know them.” Hakari responds. 

“Scoot over!” The tall guy, Toji, yells at you over the music, and you do. Allowing his group of three to squeeze in next to you. Utahime giggles and leans over your lap to address him. “Hey!” She yells, almost falling over your lap. “What’s your name? My friend Y/N-”

“I’ll go first!” you yell, hoping to silence her before she can say anything embarrassing.

“Wheeeew look at the brave young freshman!” Hakari yells. “Hey, what’s your name again?” You ignore him and spin the bottle. 'Damn,' you think, 'I’m actually going to have to go into a closet with someone after this.' You just wanted to interrupt Utahime. 

It lands on some guy you don't recognize.

“Wee woo wee woo!” Hakari yells, mocking a police siren. “New rule, freshman and senior pairings will not be allowed! Go again!” he yells at you. The group bursts out laughing as you grab the bottle to spin again. 

The bottle spins and spins until it lands on… the girl that Toji was making out with earlier. She makes a face and looks at you. “I’m not into girls, sorry!” She yells. 

“I am!” Utahime announces to the group. 

“What the hell, Takako, you have such a dirty mind!” Hakari says. You can feel Toji eyeing you. It’s slightly unsettling. “Seven minutes in heaven does not imply romantic or sexual advances!” 

She scoffs, “Then why didn’t you let her go in there with Kenjaku?” You’re doing everything you can to avoid Toji’s gaze. Seriously, what was this dude’s problem? Was there something on your face? Did your makeup come off to reveal the big ass pimple on your cheek? Shit, you knew you should’ve used more setting spray.

“Because it’s my duty to protect the young women attending my party, Takako! Better safe than sorry.” 

Suddenly, you see a hand go down to the bottle and tilt it slightly. It’s Toji, and he’s pointed the bottle directly at himself. “Well, would you look at that! Seems like the bottle has mysteriously landed on me and not Takako!” He yells over the music. 

You take this time to finally look him in the face. From this close, you notice the scar on the side of his lip, his piercing green eyes. 

“But…” you say, confused, “they said no seniors and freshmen.” 

The group bursts into laughter. “Don’t know if I should be offended or not.” He says. 

“He’s in our year, Y/N!” Utahime exclaims, “He’s in my algebra class, I couldn’t remember his name though…” 

“Wait, this isn’t how it works!” Takako says, panicked. Now that you’ve already looked at Toji, you can see her arm locked into his, she’s yelling into the group’s circle. 

“The bottle lands where it lands!” Toji says, throwing his arms up. “Come on, mama,” he starts, untangling from Takako. “We got seven minutes.”

He grabs your arm and leads you to the hall closet. You can hear whoops and whistles from behind you, but you don’t know if it’s from your small group or from the rest of the party goers. 

He turns the light on, and the two of you push back winter coats to make room in the closet. He closes the door behind the two of you. For a moment he’s quiet. He just looks at you. “You’re really pretty.” He says, leaning against the door, a little too cockily for a high school freshman. 

“Thanks.” You say quietly. It’s a little less loud in the closet, music muffled by the bundle of winter coats. “Is um.. Is Takako your girlfriend or something?”

He laughs, “Why do you ask?” 

“Because it’s pretty fucked up if you took me in here with her sitting right out there.” 

He smiles. “Nah.” He says, leaning closer to you. “She’s not.” 

You can feel his breath on your face, and smell his cologne from here. It’s a little strong, you can smell the beer in his breath too. “She’s into you though,” you say. He leans closer and you put your hand gently on his chest. Your lips are millimeters apart. “That was kinda mean,” He laughs again. “To be really, really honest, I don’t give a fuck about her.” 

“That's really mean.” You respond, and suddenly your lips are on each other. This isn’t your first kiss, but Toji makes it feel like it is. You two grasp onto each other desperately, hold onto each other like you’ve known each other for years, like he’s a long lost love. 

It doesn’t escalate from there, you two just kiss and kiss and kiss. 

You don’t notice how long it’s been until you hear a knock on the door. Toji pulls away from your face and rests his forehead on yours. “Damn.” He says, licking his lips. 

That night, Toji had offered to drive you and Utahime home. You had spent the last couple hours at the party together, you continued drinking while Toji refrained, wanting to drive you home. 

He had helped you sneak Utahime into your bedroom. In your time spent with Toji, you hadn’t noticed her drinking more and more, so by the time you got her into Toji’s car, she was passed out cold. 

You had held Utahime in your arms as Toji climbed into your window and pulled her through. You climbed in after. 

“Thank you so much.” You said to him as the two of you lay her in your bed. “You’re seriously a life saver.” 

“It’s no problem, anything for a pretty lady like you.” You rolled your eyes. 

He climbed back out your window, turning around to face you one more time before you left. You lent onto your window sill and smiled at him. “I’ll see you on Monday?” you asked. He smiled back. “I’ll see you then.” He lent up and kissed you on the lips once more before turning back around and walking to his truck. 

You did see him on Monday. And almost every Monday after. 

You and Toji became incredibly close incredibly fast. Toji clung to you for affection, you clung to him for attention. You sat together at lunch everyday. He’d buy you Cokes from the overpriced vending machine and you’d invite him into your bedroom everytime it got to be too much at home. You guys never officially started dating, it just seemed like it happened overnight. 

He never came over during the day. You were too nervous to tell your mother and he was too nervous to meet her. 

She didn’t know you even had a boyfriend until Toji cheated on you. Not the best introduction. You were working late at the diner, you often did on weekends to speed up the process of your college fund. It was Shoko who had told you. 

She, Geto, and Gojo had come to the diner after leaving a party. They were all clearly a little tipsy, so one of the older servers had passed them off onto you. “I’m not dealing with definitely-not-drunk teenagers at this time of night. I’m ready to go home.” 

“Oh my god! I know you! You’re Y/N! We’re in the same government class!” Geto slurred. You smiled at him. “How are you guys doing? You go to Hakari’s party?” You asked.

“Yeah! It was really fun, but Gojo’s curfew is at one so we gotta get him sobered up.” Geto supplied.

“Hey, Y/N, are you still with Toji? I see you too together alllllll the time at school.” Gojo slurred. You laughed. “Kind of.” You and Toji had gotten into an argument that afternoon. Toji was going to that same party, and you, having to work, couldn’t go with. Somehow, it turned into an argument about who does more for who. You weren’t broken up, and you weren’t on a break, but you were both certainly angry with each other. 

“Ohhhh what the fuck?” Gojo said, looking wide-eyed at his friends. They all looked between each other, clearly confused and talking to each other through their facial expressions. 

“Uhh, Y/N, can you just get us some waters, and can you get Gojo like an omelet or some shit?” Shoko says. “Uhh yeah! Of course!” 

“No mushrooms!” Gojo shouts as you walk away. You turn and give him a thumbs up. 

That whole night, you could feel the tension from the table. Like they all felt bad for you. Like they pitied you. After they paid the bill and Geto and Gojo walked out, Shoko called you over. “Hey, Y/N, you almost done working?” She asked. 

“Yeah, you guys were my last table for tonight. What’s up?” 

“Look,” she says, “I don’t know what’s up with you and Toji, it’s not my business, but I think you should probably know he and Takako were all over each other at Hakari’s tonight.” She looked into your eyes to gauge a reaction. 

Your heart had dropped. You could feel your fingertips tingling like you had lost all the blood in them. They felt lighter than the rest of your body. “Oh, uh, yeah it's not a big deal.” You say. You start to wring your hands on your waist apron. “Thanks for letting me know, though.” You attempt a smile at her. She looks at you with pity and concern, until you can almost visibly see her say ‘fuck it’ in her head. She leans in and gives you a hug. 

You vowed it not to be true, but Shoko had no reason to lie to you. Gojo and Geto had no reason to act so strange when you mentioned you’re still with Toji. Shoko bringing up Takako was not a coincidence. 

You squeeze her back and you can feel your breathing picking up. “T-Thank, um, Thank you.” you say. 

You didn’t call him when your shift was over for him to pick you up as usual, instead opting to take the bus route. You got home that night, thankful to see that your mother had already gone to sleep. You ignored the food she left for you in the fridge and went straight to the shower.

You didn’t cry until you got into bed, when you could smell his cologne on your pillow. You stayed like that for hours. Curled up, silently sobbing, until you heard a light knocking on your window. You knew who it was. The only person it could be, 

“Y/N?” He whispered through the window. He sounded panicked. You could hear the pane slide up and him climb in. 

“Oh, shit, thank god.” He whispered, climbing into your bed. His voice was shaking. “Hey, you awake, mama?”

You turned around to face him. “You had me scared, baby.” He said, moving your hair out of your face. “You never called after your shift. Just ‘cause you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I won’t come get you.”

“You fucked her, didn’t you?” You asked, your voice cracking.

“Huh?” 

“You. Fucked. Her. Didn’t. You?” 

His hand froze on your cheek. 

You sat up in your bed. “You fucked her, and then you wanted to come and see me after?” You asked, voice rising with each word. 

“Hey-”

“What?” You ask. You’re fully yelling now. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Y/N, stop yelling.” He warns. He stands up from the bed. You stand up and get in his face.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Toji!” You pushed his chest. He didn’t move an inch. “You don’t get to come in here, acting like you’re all worried about me! Acting like you give a fuck!” You were full on sobbing by now.

“Y/N-”

“What the hell is going on in here?” You hear your door swing open and whip around to see your mother standing at the door with a baseball bat in hand. 

Shit.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house? Get the hell out of here!” 

Toji books it out the window, looking at you one last time before leaving. 

“What the hell are you thinking, Y/N? You have a boy in here?” She yells at you. “You’re too young for this! Doing this under my roof, are you insane?” 

You just stand there staring at the floor. “Mom?” You ask, voice cracking. She sets the bat down by your door and rushes to your side. “Did he hurt you? Y/N? What did he do?” You cling onto the back of her shirt and cry into her neck. “Mom-” Is all you can get out before you’re violently shaking and you can feel your knees give out. 

It’s a week later when you see Toji again. Your mother had let you stay home from school for a day, and when you got back, Toji was nowhere to be found. 

Word got around school quickly. If it hadn’t been Shoko who told you, It could’ve been ten other people. Utahime and Saori, another girl you befriended, became your lunch buddies, taking Toji’s place. 

You didn’t want to seem as hurt as you felt, not with Takako grinning at you in the halls every time she saw you. 

He was at your window that night. You didn’t have work, and had taken the free time to catch up on some assignment you had missed. You heard a knock on your window and immediately tensed. “Fuck.” You whispered to yourself when you heard the pane slide up. 

You hadn’t even thought about locking your window. Didn’t expect Toji to want anything to do with you. 

“I saw the light on." He explained, like it gave him the right to come in, "Can we talk?” He whispered, “and can you not yell?” You didn’t look up at him. He towered over you from where you sat at your desk. “Can’t promise you anything.” You said. You pretended to work on an algebra problem, but you couldn’t focus with him in the room. 

“Come with me to my truck then.” He pleads. You tap your pencil on the wooden desk and turn your head to look up at him. He looks a mess. Hair mussed like he hadn’t brushed it in days, clothes rumpled and stained. His right eye sports a fading black ring around it. 

You bite your lip. You refuse to show any concern, but you're too curious. You point your pencil at his eye, “What happened there?” He stares at you for a second.

“Can you come or not?” He asks. This would be a common occurrence throughout the rest of your relationship. Toji showing up with a new bruise and brushing you off when you question it.

“Can you answer my question?” You taunt back. 

“Please, Y/N.” 

You sigh and throw your pencil down on the desk. “I’m doing homework, Toji.” You respond. 

“Please.” He begs. 

You know you shouldn’t. You and your mother had had a lengthy conversation just this morning. “You need to stay away from boys like him.” she said as she moved around the kitchen to prepare you breakfast. This hadn’t been a common occurrence until she noticed you had stopped eating. It wasn’t intentional, you just didn’t have the energy for it anymore. “They don’t do anything but lead you down a path you don’t want to go down, Y/N.” She says, placing a plate of eggs and toast in front of you. “He’s showing you who he is right now. Believe him.” 

You contemplated it. You knew, deep down, that you shouldn’t. Knew you should’ve called for your mom the second he tapped on your window. But you didn’t. 

“Okay.” 

The two of you crawled out of your window and walked a few houses down to Toji’s truck, parked in an abandoned parking lot. The two of you hop in at the same time. You had suddenly wished you grabbed your coat. It wasn’t necessarily cold, you just wanted something to comfort you. 

“I fucked up.” There it is. His voice, even if he’s saying something incredibly delusional and ridiculous, that is your comfort. He turns in his seat to face you. You do the same, your foot coming up to rest in the seat. 

“I really, really fucked up.” 

“So what’s your excuse?” You ask. You know it’s a bit hurtful. That was a little intentional.

“I just.. I don’t have one.” 

You think about that for a second. “Sooo…” you begin with a laugh, suddenly ten times more bitter than before. “You had sex with another girl… just because?” You ask.

He has nothing to say to that. 

“What am I to you, Toji?” 

He looks at you for a second like he’s pondering. Trying to put it into words, or maybe trying to come up with something. You didn’t know. 

“Everything.” He says, finally.

You smile. It’s a nasty, bitter smile. “That so?” You ask. “I’d hate to see how you treat someone you hate. Gotta be pretty bad.”

“Baby..”

“I’m sorry if I’m misunderstanding you here.” You say, you put your foot back onto the floor of his truck. “You brought me out here, interrupted me, mind you, to what? Tell me that you cheated on me because you felt like it?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this angry in your life. You get out of the car. Not waiting for a response. You slam the door, briskly walking back home. 

“Y/N! Come the fuck on!” You can hear him slamming the door and following you. “Don’t walk out here by yourself.” He’s being dramatic. Your house is literally within your field of vision. You can hear his feet rushing to catch up to you. You turn around and point your finger at his chest. “Leave me the fuck alone.” You say with as much conviction as you can muster. 

He does. 

When you get back home, you realize you had left your phone on your desk next to your abandoned algebra homework. You have a message from Utahime waiting for you. When you open your flip phone up, you read

hime <3: wanna go 2 hakari’s w me this fri?

Suddenly you have an idea. Make him hurt like you did. Maybe a little worse, if he cared about you at all, that is. Deep down you knew he did. Even if only a little. 

you: ofc :)

longer chapter for tonight! i'm having fun writing this! thank you for the support!

i changed the name to decode because i was listening to it while writing this chapter and it was a little bit too perfect. everybody say thank you hayley williams.

other songs i listened to while writing include

breaking benjamin - diary of jane

foo fighters - everlong

bts (suga) - trivia: seesaw

paramore - all i wanted

i feel like im on drugs rn

tag list, comment to be added

@mechalily @nialiuwanderlust @xo-evangeline @ilovebattinson @cherrypieyourface @amaiyasha @erensslut

[maxwell-grant]

I’m curious, what are your thoughts on Seth from street fighter?

Even post-revamp, still fairly awkward and out of place as a Street Fighter character (even if that is very much the point and always has been), but as a villain, they really won me over, there's a lot of great stuff here. Seth is a self-hating robot in a CEO outfit who poisons the world around them and whose grand plans involve imitating the actual main villain while insisting they are a different unique being (unlike their 26 exact clones), and stealing the creations of everyone else around them, who then dies and gets a sexy cool makeover to become a gruesome aimless murderous ghost, who chases traces of it's creator around to kill him unaware that it's dying with every step it takes and that it's chasing something that isn't there. They went from Frankenstein's Monster play-acting as a cold calculating unfeeling chessmaster who everyone could tell was full of shit, to the Bride of Frankenstein as a barely-held-together dangerous yet tragic monstrosity that everyone reacts to with disgust and pity. They went from what we used to think AI would be, to what AI actually is, and I'd say they were pretty ahead of their time for that alone.

(art by z3dd)

Now, IV Seth was pretty uncontestedly the least popular of the Street Fighter Final Bosses, for fairly similar reasons to Gill: they were seen as too much of a fantasy supervillain, they didn't "fit" the series, they were too weird and awkward and out-there, and where as Gill at least got a pass because of his presentation and style and sheer contrast with Bison (although that "pass" only happened because people turned around on 3rd Strike), Dollar Store Dr.Manhattan was just lesser than Gill and Bison in every way and thus was a dissappointing final boss, an out-of-place comic book supervillain who didn't justify their existence.

Granted, the series actually had way more of a precedent for Seth than it ever did for Gill, given the presence of prior cyborgs and shapeshifters (the Shadaloo cyborgs from the animated movie that Seth was directly based from, Twelve and Necro) plus Gill, and the door for comic book supervillains was blasted open in the first place with Bison (and all the fighting game bosses that descended from him). But still, Bison's thing was that he was one-in-a-million, that he broke the rules as an dishonorable intrusion, that if you reached high enough to topple the greatest fighter (Sagat) you could fight the greatest fighter's boss, a man so powerful rules and structures could not apply to him and only your fists stood between him and global domination. Since obviously you can't take a step back and you can't do the same trick twice, that formula had to be tweaked for Gill and Seth: Gill was presented as someone above even Bison on the food chain and scope, a distant immortal bearing divine judgementt on trespassers, where as Seth was defined by their role irrevocably beneath Bison, and the walking inferiority complex that ensues.

They are a Bison project, one of 26 exactly like them (which means canonically most of the fighters got to defeat "a" Seth, which really does not make them very impressive), growing from Bison's leftovers to lead a subsidiary of Bison's organization, continuing Bison's plans, with their grand plot being just an imitation of Bison's plan to control Ryu's power, and generally acting and speaking and doing things exactly like Bison while uselessly whining that they are NOT Bison and that they will succeed where Bison failed, while the narrative makes no secret of the fact that Bison is still alive, still pulling the strings, and that he was perfectly fine until Seth started getting a little too big boy pants for his liking, and now Bison's gonna put his homegrown Pinocchio in the shredder with little to no difficulty and take the reigns as Final Boss again. Which, granted, did do it's job in building Bison back-up again, but didn't do a thing to negate the idea that Seth was a superfluous, inferior rip-off, given that textually, this is how they were presented as.

Even the characters didn't seem to take them very seriously, certainly not as seriously as Bison, and that was BEFORE the breakout rock star of the IV series, Juri, debuted to ensure that Seth wouldn't even be the most popular new villain. It is the least surprising thing in the world that Seth would achieve much greater popularity, in part, by being redesigned to be more like Juri. And part of what made Juri appealing was the fact that she was a conniving, cool, unique loose cannon villain ready to make Seth eat shit over thinking that they could control her, they became the big-headed authority figure for our punk bad girl to kick like a pinata. Unlike Vega and Balrog, who only talked a big game, Juri actually got to kick her dipshit supervillain boss to the curb, and we all loved her for it.

Seth's major saving graces were their gameplay, which made them very popular competitively, plenty of aspects of their design, and the fact that all of the above worked to make Seth a character who, while not terribly compelling in their own right, did a lot to make other characters more interesting, like Abel, who was designed to be a good counterpart to Seth and not remotely interesting besides (although his stint as Guile's manchild partner in SFvsT has it's moments), or like Juri and Bison, giving them an enemy they could actually defeat to gain street cred. Frequently you need villains that only exist to let other villains be cooler by comparison or retain their dignity or put one over. Sometimes you need a Cluemaster in place of your Riddler, a Mac Gargan to make all the other Sinister Six guys omlook better by comparison, a Zant to fill in screentime for Ganondorf or a Hobgoblin instead of a Green Goblin. You need your in-betweeners even if, and sometimes especially if, they will never be anyone's favorite character. Which is a harsh thing to say about Seth, but for a while they definitely didn't seem like anyone's favorite baddie, but instead someone who made their favorite baddies look way better by comparison.

And Seth worked in this regard especially because their design was built on the idea of them being unnatural, contemptible and out-of-place. I actually think Seth's original design does work, and has been vindicated over time. Seth is a cybernetic intelligence made by scientists to consume and imitate all the brilliant techniques that the World Warriors spent years/decades perfecting, a twisted mockery of their beliefs and achievements. They look like a living yin-yang and conducts themselves posing like a Shinto god, but there is no spirituality or soul to anything they do. They are a grotesque, soulless husk that can only imitate, can only cruelly replicate the evil of their creator and not even do a terribly impressive job at it, and all of their attempts to convince others they are in any way different or unique ring hollow. They are one in many many Bison back-up bodies even among the playable cast, and all of their achievements are meaningless, either already belonging to Bison or stolen and repurposed by Bison and others.

There was plenty about Seth that already worked and was just held back by a not-particularly impressive design or presentation. The grand trick that SFV pulled was basically giving them a new one, and taking everything about Seth that used to be implied and subtextual, and basically making it textual, making it a scream they can only repeat ad nauseum, and in the process making one of the most tragic SF characters as well as one of the coolest.

Now, yes, you could argue that SFV Seth kinda missed the point in a big way by actually giving Seth a distinct and interesting design best described with the "not to be a lesbian but oh god oh fuck jesus christ" meme, when the character being soulless and unoriginal was important to their make-up. But it was never a terribly interesting idea (already done by the likes of Twelve or the Cycloids), certainly not for a fighting game character let alone a Final Boss with such massive standards to live up to, and shades of it still impart in the new design in a far more delightfully twisted way. It's Seth, except they are Juri now. They've been remade in the image of their true enemy, their hateful minion that ruined their plans, led Bison to them, killed and broke and stole them to be remade using a discarded Doll body from Bison's scrap pile, and the process has revived Seth into a pitiable broken record of itself.

The new design greatly emphasizes the corrupted Shinto / yin-yang elements of before, adding splashes of color and powerful glowing lines to the design that make it so that, while they looks less cadaverous, they look much more the part of a corrupted imitation of a deity, so that despite being downgraded from boss status they actually look much more like something you'd face as a Final Boss, something that could stand next to the other Final Bosses. And that glow-up extends to their moveset: Instead of pasting together improvised and half-hearted recreations of iconic special moves, Seth now directly steals and perfectly replicates the skills from whoever they're fighting. Seth conducts themselves with greater power and swagger this time around, with tons of new animations lifted from powerful past Capcom villains like Demitri or the Heritage to the Future take on DIO, and it works. Because even now, Seth can only imitate greatness from others. Seth has perfectly captured advancements in A.I tech because they can learn, grow, and even imitate to near-perfection, but they cannot meaningfully improve, and they are dragged down by incohence, chaos, errors and glitches in programming. In short, the fact that they are an artificial intelligence to begin with.

That's a thing about A.I and robots in general: Sci-fi has spent over a century anthropomorphizing robots and artificial intelligence characters to empathize with and make stories out of, create lovable stock fantasy characters that our culture comes back to again and again, but now that they are a real thing, and they are horrible godless abominations often used to actively make the world worse (even if it's hard to ascribe fault to something that isn't sentient enough to be malicious), we can't really deal with that. It's a cognitive dissonance that sci-fi doesn't look like it's going to catch up for a while now, if it ever will. We still like robots and robot stories and characters too dang much to know how to live with them. We still cry over Pluto, it's unavoidable.

And crying may be a strong term, but SFV actually seriously invites us to feel sorry for the dang thing, and the great final trick SFV pulled was breaking Seth under the weight of being Seth. Under the weight of being lesser, of not being real, of being an artificial creation made in an assembly line and not even the best of it's kind, of being not a terribly popular creation, of being a victim of characters that will get away with what they've done to them because nobody's gonna stand up for Seth, of being a Bison imitation made to house Bison and do Bison's bidding in the meanwhile, and thrown in the trash despite performing exactly as it was supposed to. Seth has faults of personality that make them more than a machine, and less than a person, and if the cast before generally despised them but not to the extent they despised Bison, now most characters outright pity them, as a thing living past expiration date that shouldn't be alive at all.

And because of all of this, in a way, Seth has attained a form of uniqueness. Even among the other villains and tragic characters of Street Fighter, Seth stands unique as a truly tragic, doomed villain, not even really a villain anymore so much as an obtuse, sad disaster. They are maybe Bison's greatest victim now, because even the Dolls (sans Marz) are all getting moderately happy endings, even Cammy and Abel and the Neo Shadaloo goobers got to make new lives for themselves, even Nash got to die by their terms and make his sacrifice count. Seth had nothing besides this. Seth was created for, born into, lived by, and died as an extension of Bison's evil, a tiny little bump in Shadaloo history, a piece of junk that Juri used and broke and tossed aside to resume her miserable life afterwards, and all their revival did was prolong the horror. Just one among endless horrors JP leaves behind when he's through with them.

We have yet to know what became of them after SFV, because many stories from SFV have been dropped or left incomplete in 6 (and many probably for the better), but even though Seth really was a villain and a horrible enemy to all of humanity, you kinda wind up feeling sorry enough for them to almost wish that their SFV ending happened, where they destroy Bison and ascend over their other selves, and still the question of whether they could ever be at peace lingers. This ending just fascinates me to no end, and it makes me think of the quotes that Gouken had to say to them that alone stood as an indication that Seth could be more than they appeared and insisted on being:

"Until you acknowledge the soul within, you cannot use your power for good."

"You seek individuality and identity, but you will not find it this way."

(JP win quote) "Look, you don't have to use your powers to express who you are."

Until they appear again, that this is the note that Seth as a character goes out on might even imply that this was either their true goal all along, or that Seth has genuinely progressed as a person enough to want something new. That they are now able to seek or at least aspire for peace of mind, where as before there was only a desire for conquest and power, to show the world that Bison was a ghost and that they were the king, the ruler, the greatest fighter of all. Seth constantly expressed disgust and hatred at their other variants, killing them and flying into a murderous rage at being referred to by their number, even expressing in IV a desire to "be the sole survivor of this world" presumably with everything else as data within themselves. Here, they appear before the other Seths in a pose of ascended godhood, even seemingly benevolent, like they're ready to bring their siblings along.

The spiritual elements of their design no longer appear as a corrupt imitation, but an indicator of genuine spirituality. That Gouken was right, that there really was a soul in Seth waiting to be acknowledged, that the exorcism of the great evil that once defined them has allowed at last a pursuit of individuality and identity and self-expression, to reconcile their hatred of themselves (which manifested as a hatred of the other numbered Seths). It's such a fascinating development that it almost, almost makes me wish Street Fighter would dip it's toes a little into multiverse territory, much as I hate the superhero-ification of the series in V. I have thoughts on how MK1 handled this and very mixed ones at that, but the canonization of "every character ending from past arcade modes can have happened in separate universes and we can have it cross over whenever we feel like it" is an idea I do like, if nothing else this ascended development for Seth just seems like too potent an idea to never touch on again.

I used to not like Seth, really. They used to be one of my less favorite characters. Now I'd call them one of my favorites, and I'm just feeling horribly sorry for them. I need to know what became of them. Whether they'll still come back for one last torturous round of existence, whether they are heading for some other exciting new development, or whether the very next second after the end of their V story, they simply ended with one of their victory quotes:

"A SERIOUS ERROR HAS OCCURRED."

"A SERIOUS ERROR HAS OCCURRED."

"A SERIOUS ERROR HAS OCCURRED."

"A SERIOUS ERROR HAS OCCURRED."

[tears0fsatan]

                ♰          ・        𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐑 𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... suggestive, under 16 do not interact, dead dove do not eat, m!reader, kinda yandere ghostface!lucifer, stalking, gore fantasies, mild body horror lol, mindbreak, kidnapping at the end

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... fun fact i only watched scream for this ^w^ ever since that one halloween event i haven't been able to get masked lucifer out ofmy mind and its been driving me nuts actually (just came back from one of the best nights of my life i am writing this on a high) if u saw this before no u didn't (i don't even know why it posted in the first place)

 #﹏𖣠ㅤHEART SHAPED HICKIES MASTERLISTㅤ. . . ㅤ !! ( ☠️ )

news of a killer targeting unsuspecting men in the dead of night broke out and shook the community of your quaint little town. all the victims had been taken late at night and had no correlation with each other, only to be found the next morning disemboweled and slaughtered like farm animals in what was supposed to be the safety of their own homes.

while many chose to set a curfew and return early in hopes of staying alive, you knew you weren't interesting enough for a serial killer to take, so you took the curfew with a grain of salt. you continued to do your regular routine with the new community rules in the back of your mind, enjoying the peacefulness of the unusually quiet town.

unbeknownst to you, hidden in the shadows lurked a masked man, watching your every move with practiced patience and hungry eyes. lucifer couldn't help the ghost of a smile that toyed on his lips, excitement pumping through his veins at the thoughts of what he would do to you once he got his hands on you.

he thought of all the ways he would play around with you, how he would taunt you through the phone and watch as your face fell into fear and desperation. the killer enjoyed toying with his victim for as long as possible, or until he got bored, but all of it was meaningless amusement. from the very beginning, lucifer had his sights on you. you were his ultimate goal, the sole reason he started attacking random people in the first place was to capture your attention, to keep you thinking about him.

although you thought you hid yourself well in the crowd, it was that very reason that lucifer targeted you, oblivious and bland yet so mesmerisingly beautiful, he couldn't ignore such a cute boy walking alone at night. his eyes followed you as you weaved through crowds without attracting any attention, just a simple passerby to all those people who were unaware of just how captivating you were.

despite your normal outwardly appearance, he knew the skeletons in the closet you kept hidden to yourself and only let slip when you thought no one was watching. he knew all of the things you did when you thought you were alone, lingering silently in the dark corner of your room and plotting further.

his mind wandered to your delicate neck, wondering all the ways he could mark up your untouched skin. he pictured a beautiful blue and purple bruise the shape of his hand across the expanse of your neck, bite marks and small cuts littering the curve of your collarbone and shoulders. your legs and how good they would look wrapped around his waist pulling him impossibly closer took reign over his thoughts and his eyes trailed down to your legs, visualising all the marks he would leave behind to mark his territory.

he wanted nothing more than to rough you up, to rip you apart and sow you back together so you would be dependent on him for the rest of your life. he wanted to witness the moment your mind finally broke, succumbing to lucifer's every whim and request. he wanted to see you broken, beyond repair and moulded entirely for him.

there were moments he considered murdering you in the most brutal ways possible, especially when he would see you a little too close to your insignificant friends, or when he noticed you being a little too polite to strangers. those eyes you gave to your best friend belonged to him, you shouldn't be looking at anybody else like that beside from him. he couldn't make up his mind on whether he wanted to rip out your eyeballs out so you'd never be able to look at anyone like that ever again or if he wanted to bring you your best friends head on a platter and have that as your last memory of them.

the sound of his knuckles cracking shook him from his momentary reverie and lucifer decided then and there that he had to do something about his jealousy.

the next morning you woke up and found out that your best friend had gone missing in the middle of the night. to say you were distressed was an understatement, the situation was grim and everyone had sort of accepted that they wouldn't show up alive. the killer ate up your misery like a starved dog, clinging onto every emotion that flashed through your eyes that he caused.

lucifer teased the cops of your small community like a game of tag, leaving small trails of evidence and letting them believe that they were catching up to him when in reality he was always five steps ahead. when the killer finally killed them, he had made a show of it, stringing the body up like they were no more than halloween decoration, mangled and battered until they weren't recognisable. it was truly one of his most grisly murders yet.

he was there the moment you found out, blended into the crowd and without his usual get up so he could be near you. the moment the light left your eyes he knew he had made the right choice in prolonging your mental anguish.

that very night, he snatched you up. now he could have his way with you, he could toy with you as long as he wanted and no one could stop him.

© 2023 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t translate, modify, repost or plagiarise my works anywhere.

[multifandomfanfic]

Hello!

Could you write something that the reader, who is not a pilot and works with Penny, likes Jake very much, but is afraid to talk to him because she has not heard pleasant things about him? After they somehow meet (my preference is after the beach scene because why not hehe) they start spending more time together and so on. A bit fluffy and smutty if you can.

Thank you!!

Pay Your Tab

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem! Reader

Warnings: kissing, groping, smut references, language, angst, hickeys

Summary: Despite harboring crush on Hangman for a while, you’ve never acted on it due to other peoples’ opinion on him.. until now.

Word Count: 4.3k

“Hey, you!”

I leaned over the bar, wiping away the various mysterious stains that somehow found their way onto the wood. Customers would frequently attempt to place drink orders without approaching the bar. Ignoring them becomes habitual.

“Hey, sweetheart! Over here!”

I sighed and turned to face the source of the voice. A group of pilots were standing and playing billiards as usual. The main one was waving his hand in the air, facing me. I immediately recognized him. Jake Seresin is well-known among female bar patrons for his good looks as well as his cocky demeanor. As we accidentally locked eyes, my cheeks flushed pink.

“Can we get six beers?” Jake glanced over to a man sitting in the corner, “Seven, actually.”

I cupped my hand over my ears, pretending I couldn't hear what he was saying. The ruse failed miserably.

“Seven beers!” he shouted even louder.

I reluctantly gave him a thumbs up and turned around to pour the beer, breaking Penny's rules. I placed them on the bar in front of me, one by one, until all seven were full. Seresin appeared in front of the bar, as if he had heard the last pint being poured, and surprised me as I turned around.

“Thanks, sweets,” he said, trying to grab all seven beers at a time. To my surprise, he managed to pick up five before I even offered him a tray. I smiled as I piled the last two beers on the tray before he walked away.

“Wait a minute.. don’t forget to pay your tab!”

Seresin turned around and grinned cheekily, “Don’t worry, someone will get it!”

As I live and breathe, the infamous Hangman.

I can't believe this was our first conversation. I would've asked him out on a date long ago if his shady reputation hadn't walked through the door before him.

My eyes kept looking over to him every few seconds to ensure he was real, standing in my bar, and had just spoken to me moments before. I would've assumed he had feelings for me if he wasn't such a total flirt.

With a shake of my head, I expressed my dissatisfaction.

If only he had a pleasant reputation like Rooster or Pheonix. Then, if we held hands and walked into the Hard Deck with our chests and heads held high, no one would do a double take.

“Y/N!”

Penny's call jolted me out of my Hangman stupor. Penny, who was holding a large wooden box in her hand, drew my attention to the side. Most likely, she disappeared to grab something from the back rooms.

“Some old guy just spilled a beer all over the bar. Mind cleaning it before it gets sticky?”

I did mind because all I wanted to do was become lost in my thoughts and go home early.

“Sure. I’ll get right to it.”

-

San Diego rarely got hot enough to increase the temperature of the freezing water. As a result, few people visited the beaches of southern California unless they wanted to surf or sail.

Today, however, was an exception. The day was hot, which meant that everyone in the San Diego area could enjoy a relaxing day at the beach.

“Hello Y/N. How are you today?”

Penny was sitting quietly at a picnic table overlooking the beach when she asked the question. She held a book in her hands that she had been reading for what seemed like an eternity.

“I'm wonderful. Enjoying this perfect day!”

I extended my hands out, taking in the beautiful sunshine. It was one of the most pleasant days since summer began. Penny gave me a friendly smile, pleased that I was enjoying my day off.

“Why don’t you sit down and join me?”

Penny asked, motioning for me to take a seat on the other side of the table.

“I wouldn’t want to disturb your reading.”

With an overly dramatic flare, Penny carefully closed the book and stuffed it back into her purse.

“I’ve already read that book anyway. I’d much rather have a lovely conversation with you.”

I sat down on the hard, wooden picnic table and began chatting with Penny instantly. Despite the fact that she was my boss, our conversations were always light and friendly. No wonder Maverick loved her so much.

We continued to talk and talk and talk, becoming so enveloped in the conversation that we became oblivious to what was going on around us.

Until…

“Oh my God! It’s Maverick!”

“What are you talking about?” I furrowed my brow as Penny pointed to the shoreline. My gaze followed her finger. It wasn’t just Maverick. It was Maverick’s entire group: Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, Fanboy, and…

Hangman.

When my eyes landed on him, my eyes stopped scanning the large crowd. It didn't matter who else was taking part in the lighthearted beach football game. To me, Hangman stood out like a sore thumb, and I couldn't stop my eyes from grazing over his toned body.

“Ohhhh. Does someone have a thing for a certain Navy pilot?” Penny asked teasingly.

I rolled my eyes, my eyes staying fixed on Hangman.

“Don’t judge me, Penny. You’re into Navy guys as well.”

“I’m not judging, I’m only asking.”

Phoenix snatched the ball and launched into a sprint across the beach, kicking sand up behind her feet.

“Which one is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

I rested my chin on my hand, allowing my arm to support the full weight of my head. Penny tried to follow my gaze to see which man I was looking at, but failed.

“Do you wanna take a wild guess?” I asked.

“Sure. Um…”

Her eyes swept across the muscular men scurrying back and forth across the beach, making sure to consider all possibilities before making a guess.

“Fanboy?”

“Nope. Guess again.”

“Coyote?”

“Nope.”

Penny scoffed, “Tell me then! I’m dying to know!”

Should I let her know? I suppose I could. She wouldn’t tell Hangman, or anyone besides Maverick for that matter. I trusted her. To be honest, it wouldn't make a difference if Hangman knew. He hardly knew who I was and would probably dismiss me as another distant admirer that he occasionally saw at the bar.

“Hangman.”

I mumbled.

“What?”

A few stray strands of hair blew into my face, temporarily blocking my vision as I swiveled around to face her.

“Hangman.”

The look on her face was priceless. Her eyebrows shot up, her forehead creasing as she lowered her jaw. Was it truly insane to fall in love with a hot navy pilot who also happened to have an ego problem?

“Please don’t look at me like I’m insane, Penny.”

Penny shook her head, jolting herself awake from her shocked daze.

“No! That’s not it at all! I just wasn't expecting him to be the object of your attraction.”

Now that my secret was out in the open, the sight of the wonderfully toned men having a good time was no longer so appealing. I sighed and began to stand up.

“I’m gonna go clean up the bar.”

“You don’t have to do that on your day off, Y/N.”

“I want to. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be inside,” I said, looking back at her as I began to walk towards the bar, her expression now neutral.

With a nod of her head, I was off, walking across the sandy beach to the back entrance of the Hard Deck.

I clenched my teeth as I scrubbed the wooden bar vigorously, attempting to remove every single small stain. My arm grew sore quickly, but I didn’t care. The only other option was being alone at home with my thoughts, so I continued to scrub until I couldn’t feel my fingers.

I watched the rag move back and forth, leaving a gleaming trail of water in its wake, as I stared down at my fast-moving hand. My brain was locked into my movements, my other senses shutting off as I trapped myself into a deep trance of constant movement.

The cloth moved back and forth, back and forth.

“If you scrub any harder, you’ll take the glaze right off the wood.”

My head jerked up so fast that I almost got whiplash as a deep male voice cleared the fog from my mind.

Hangman, shirtless and with the pant legs of his jeans rolled up to his knees, was leaning against the Hard Deck's back entrance frame, a sly smirk playing on his lips.

“We’re not open for another two hours,” I said rashly, a flush creeping up my cheekbones. Wow. I was a romantic genius.

“Can you make an exception?”

God, he was so cocky. I hope he wasn’t like this to his superiors. I wanted to say no and stick to the rules. But there was Hangman, the man I had admired in secret for months, right in front of me, asking to spend time with me alone.

“Well, no shirt, no shoes, no service.”

That line was fairly slick. I was getting better at this.

I lowered my gaze to his chest, trying not to appear creepy as I pointed out his nakedness with my eyes before bringing my attention back to his face.

Hangman grinned and flashed his pearly white teeth.

“Sure.”

His arm disappeared around his body as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a plain white t-shirt. He threw it on. Part of me wished he'd kept his shirt off, but asking him to strip after just demanding he redressed would give him the wrong impression.

Him and his ego swaggered over to the bar, instantly filling the room and heightening the tension of the atmosphere. Although, maybe, the tension was just in my head, because my heart was already beating out of my chest after one sly glance from Hangman.

“What do you want?”

Hangman shifted his hips on the bar stool, the cushion underneath him creaking as he tried to find a comfortable position.

“Give me whatever.”

I knelt down and grabbed a random bottle of beer from the mini fridge, popping the cap off with the bottle opener on the bar's side. The cold bottle left a trail of water in its wake as I slid it across the bar to Hangman.

“There you go.”

I stepped on the bottle cap that was rattling against the bar's floor to silence the annoying noise.

“Don’t I have to open a tab?”

I extended my hand to him, exposing my open palm. Hangman reached into his back pocket and pulled out a thin wallet. He flipped through the contents, removing a red credit card from the leather wallet and placing it in my open palm. As our hands gently touched, he smirked, and I prayed he wouldn't notice the blush creeping onto my cheeks.

I kept his card behind the bar while I opened a tab for him. I walked around to the other side, turning away from him and continuing my thorough cleaning process.

“You aren’t gonna keep me company?”

He yelled, feigning sadness in his tone in the hopes of making me feel sorry for him.

I scoffed, “If you wanted company, you would’ve brought friends.”

I tried to be as snarky as possible in my response. I wanted him to leave the bar so I could finally relax and fantasize about him instead of having to actually communicate with him.

“Playing hard to get, aren’t we?” he said coolly.

My movements came to a sudden halt.

Is it possible that I misunderstood him?

Was he implying that he was attempting to "get" me?

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” He spoke with a honeyed tone that dripped from his lips.

“No. I just…” I stuttered, struggling to get the words out of my throat.

“You didn’t think I’d be interested in you?”

What?

Was I that easy to read?

As the blood flew right to my face, my cheeks turned bright red, my cheekbones burning with heat. I knew that my silence would amuse him more than if I simply acknowledged that he was correct.

“Yes. I didn’t think you’d be interested in me.”

I resumed my scrubbing motions, wiping the bar aggressively despite the wood already being shiny and spotless.

“Well, I am.”

“You’re interested in me?”

“Yes. I. Am.”

I realized I was bent over a little further than I had intended when I turned my head over my right shoulder and locked eyes with Hangman.

I gulped, rising to my full height, turning, and leaning over the opposite side of the bar, keeping my gaze fixed on Hangman. As Jake raised his eyebrows in subtle surprise at my confidence, I reached my torso over the bar, propped up on my elbows, and tried to appear as intimidating as possible.

"Alright, Hangman.”

I spoke angrily through my teeth.

“I’ll bite. Tell me why you’re so infatuated with me all of a sudden.”

Hangman pushed his beer to the side and leaned forward over the bar, his breath fanning across my face as he brought our noses only inches apart. He gained confidence as he watched me squirm in my skin under his intense gaze. My chest tightened as the crushing atmosphere of the room pressed down on my fragile body, his grin widening with each shaky gulp or inhale.

“Cause I saw you staring at me the other day.”

My jaw was clenched so tightly that my teeth felt as if they were splitting under the force of my bite.

He moved forward another inch, his nose nearly brushing against the tip of mine as his stare became increasingly intense.

“And ever since then I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”

His voice had changed from seductive to completely erotic, a pinching sensation beginning to form in my lower abdomen.

“Nothing to say?” he teased.

My lower jaw trembled in excitement and anticipation as I ran my tongue along my bottom lip.

“Um… no. I don’t have anything to say.”

Hangman laughed heartily, his shoulders bouncing as he did so. He leaned back in his chair, his posture assuming a normal position. The space between our two faces provided some relief from the mounting tension around us. The true tension, however, was building inside the pit of my stomach.

“Then I’ll do the talking.”

Hangman said with his lips pursed into a thin smile and his brows raised halfway up his forehead, dark wrinkles forming above his eyebrows.

“My car is the white one in the front of the parking lot. It should be unlocked. I want you to sit in the passenger's seat and wait for me.”

I furrowed my brow.

“Wait for you?”

Hangman wrapped his large hand around the neck of his beer bottle and thrust it into the air, assuming a toast position.

“I gotta finish my beer first,” with a low smacking sound, he slammed the bottle onto the bar.

Hangman continued proudly with a sly wink, “Leave me in peace for a bit, I’ll rejoin you soon.”

God, cocky bastard.

I gradually grew to my full height, having to tilt my neck to stare down at Hangman. Despite the new perspective, he was in complete command of the situation. The difference in height has no effect on his self-assurance.

I didn't want to give Hangman everything he desired. I wanted to be tough, to stand my ground, and to truly give him a run for his money. But I had a terrible, huge crush on this man, and this was one of my most frequent fantasies.

Being ordered around by a slick, attractive navy pilot who I’ve been admiring for a few months now?

Yes please.

“Okay Hangman, you win.”

I turned away from him and made my way to the front door. As I walked out of the bar, I could feel Hangman's slick eyes following me with every subtle movement of my body. But I didn't dare to look back at him because I was already giving him so much pleasure by doing exactly what he said. I wasn't going to give him any more satisfaction by showing him how severely he got under my skin.

However, I wouldn't be surprised if he was already aware.

The front windshield of a white Mustang was facing away from the front entrance of the parking lot.

A mustang, wow, very Hangman.

The windows were tinted, and anyone staring into the car would see absolutely nothing. The door was unlocked, and I clambered into the passenger's seat of the car.

Now, I wait.

The car was heating up in the surprisingly hot San Diego sun, and a thin layer of moisture was forming on my upper lip and brow.

Let’s hope Penny doesn’t come to check on me.

Penny.

Oh God.

Did she tell him?

Did she inform Hangman that I was in love with him?

That is the only plausible explanation. Penny informed Hanfman, who decided to confront me about it. Act on it, rather.

It makes sense, perfect sense.

I mean, when I told her my secret I expected her not to tell anyone.

But, I couldn’t even be mad at her because the spilling of my secret put me in a sensual situation with a super hot navy pilot.

“Fuck Hangman, where are you?”

He was messing with me. There was no way the last half of his beer was taking him this long to finish. I saw him drink on a busy night of partying, he can down multiple beers in the blink of an eye.

I shifted my hips, my thighs sticking to the leather seats.

The Hard Deck parking lot was deserted, with only Hangman's white Mustang parked on the asphalt. Part of me wishes there were people bustling around the car while Hangman and I did whatever he wanted behind tinted windows.

I wiped my upper lip, but the droplets of sweat returned after a few seconds.

“Oh come on, this is ridiculous.”

Alright, that was it. I’d have enough of Hangman’s cockiness.

I wasn't about to sit in this hot car all day waiting for him to show up whenever he damn well pleased.

Hangman tapped the window with his finger joint. Sure enough, he was standing outside the car, staring in.

I rolled my eyes as he flung open the door and slid into the driver's seat.

“Miss me honey?”

I didn't respond. Instead, I was looking out the window at the beach. On the opposite side of the Hard Deck, the pilots were playing football. My gaze was drawn to a section of the sand filled with large families and adorable couples.

“Oh come on, I couldn’t just give you what you wanted when you wanted it. That wouldn’t be fun.”

“Yet you expect me to give you what you want when you want it?”

I spin my head around, meeting Hangman's mischievous gaze.

“I didn’t make you sit in my car and wait for me. If you would’ve told me no I would’ve left you alone.”

Hangman leaned over the center console.

“You’re giving me what I want honey. I don’t expect anything.”

The hot air hung around us, and sweat drops began to form on Hangman's face.

“Well.”

I said.

“Well?”

He asked, his brows raising.

I leaned in closer to Hangman, bringing our faces closer together once more.

“Are you gonna kiss me or are you just gonna stare?”

“Stare.”

He said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

What?

What kind of mind games was this man playing?

Hangman maintained intense eye contact with me as he drew his keys from his back pocket and began tapping the keys until the clicking noise of the doors locking surrounded me in every direction.

“Now we can kiss.”

Hangman tossed his keys to the floor of his car and pressed his lips to mine in a moment of passion. The force of his kiss caused me to recoil, knocking the breath straight from my lungs as my eyes fluttered closed.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling his face impossibly closer to me. God, just moments ago we were teasing each other in his car. Only seconds later, our teeth were clashing and chests heaving as Hangman thrusted his sweet tongue past my lips.

Jake’s calloused palms rubbed against my clothed hips, gripping the flesh and yanking me towards him every time my pelvis shifted backwards.

I felt myself being thrown into the air as Hangman effortlessly pulled me from my seat and onto his lap, putting his well-defined muscles to good use.

His large hands shifted from my hips to my thighs, kneading the soft flesh as he pulled me even farther forward until our chests were pressed flush together.

“You’re a good kisser.”

I wheezed before reconnecting our lips. Hangman smirked against my mouth, his ego inflated by the slightly juvenile compliment.

I always assumed that even if I were placed in this situation, I wouldn't be able to get past Hangman's cocky demeanor and massive ego. But his confidence somehow made him even more appealing.

It would be different if Hangman wasn't charismatic and thought he was hot shit for no reason whatsoever.

But God, he could kiss like it was nobody’s business. His plush lips meshed with mine as his hands moved expertly on my body, adding to the many wonderful sensations that arose as I kissed him.

Goosebumps broke out along my skin, Hangman’s dull nails digging into the thick flesh of my thighs.

If he could kiss like this… I shudder to think at what he could do with his-

“God, I want to be inside you so badly.”

The honeyed tone was back. Hangman yanked his lips away from mine, severing the connection I was longing for. He'd given me a taste of his passion, and I wasn't sure if I'd ever be able to get enough of it.

His warm mouth pressed to the side of my throat, and I involuntarily threw my head back to expose more of my neck for him, my lower abdomen fluttering with desire.

“What’s stopping you?”

I asked, gasping for air as he nibbled on my collarbone's sensitive skin. Jake flattened his tongue against the bruise, leaving a patch of saliva on my collarbone as I moaned involuntarily.

“Oh honey, I wanna take my time with you.”

He mumbled against my skin, his hands finding their way to my clothed breasts.

I grit my teeth and sighed deeply as his hands desperately kneaded my breasts, pinching my nipples through two layers of clothes.

It wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t nearly enough for me.

“Besides…

He whispered sensually, his hot breath sending chills down my spine.

“You’re too much fun to tease.”

Oh come on, cut me a break Hangman.

I drew my arms from around Hangman's neck, allowing my head to fall forward while trailing my hands down his chest. Hangman continued to bite and suck at the sensitive skin on the small patch of my exposed chest.

I thought about unbuckling his thick leather belt and reaching into his boxers to palm his cock through his boxers. I wanted to pleasure him, show him I could make him feel good.

But Hangman made it clear now wasn’t the time to take off each other’s clothes. So I opted for dipping my hands under the hem of his shirt and pressing my open palms against his lower abdomen.

The shaggy hair on his belly brushed against my fingers, the desire to clench my thighs together rushed through my body as I began to explore more of his body.

“God you’re beautiful… I can wait to fuck you in my car. I can’t wait to fill you up.”

He blew hot air onto the hickeys he'd created on my chest, the sensitive patches of skin lighting on fire under his breath.

“You’re gonna look so pretty bouncing on my cock.”

I moaned, this time louder and much more audible.

“My God your moans are gorgeous.”

His hands quickened their pace against my sensitive breasts.

“Hangman.”

I moaned, knitting my brows together as my nipples hardened under his touch.

“HANGMAN!”

That certainly wasn’t my voice.

I retracted my hands from his lower abdomen and sat back on his muscular thick thighs, whirling my head around to find the source of the noise.

“Fucking Bob.”

Hangman grunted in disapproval as he watched Bob frantically search the parking lot for his fellow pilot.

“It doesn’t look like he sees us. We can just wait him out.”

Just as I finished speaking, Bob's gaze was drawn to Hangman's car, and he began sprinting towards it.

“Fuck. Get off my lap.”

I scrambled off Hangman's lap and into the passenger seat, making an audible rattle as I moved. Fuck.

Bob heard the racket and now he knew someone was in the car.

“Hangman! Are you in there?”

Bob inquired, squinting against the light reflected off Hangman's tinted windows and aggressively tapping on the window.

Hangman rolled his eyes and pressed the button to roll down the window all the way.

“Hey! Penny has your credit card and it says you opened a tab? She thought you left without it! Good thing you’re still-“

His gaze fell on me as I sat uncomfortably in Hangman's passenger seat, hickeys all over my chest. I gave Bob a meek wave as I awkwardly smiled.

“Hello.”

He said, smiling and waving back at me as his cheeks began to turn bright red.

“Alright Bob, why don’t you tell Penny I’ll be right in.”

“Oh no please! Take your time.”

Bob blurted out, clearly embarrassed that he had interrupted our time together.

Bob practically sprinted towards the Hard Deck's front door, not looking back at us as he hurriedly exited the situation.

“I assume Penny spilled the beans?”

Hangman knitted his brows together in perplexity, turning his head to face me.

“What do you mean?”

Oh. She hadn’t told him.

“Oh!”

I exclaimed.

“Never mind.”

[acourtofladydeath]

Elain/Lucien/Tamlin and something sexy with Dom Elain vibes. 🔥

OH THE PATH THIS REQUEST SENT ME DOWN. I'm very excited, and I hope you are too.

And I actually managed to keep this drabble under 1K words (but not 500...we'll maybe get there...or not...stay tuned)

In "The Fawn, The Fox, & The Fiend" Elain is in full control of her mate and his best friend. Will Tamlin learn to follow orders?

And do we need a part 2?

Read here on AO3 or below the cut. Sexually explicit, minors DNI.

Elain circled the bed slowly after placing the last restraint, hand dragging around the bedding to make her presence known to her mate now tied to the bed. She heard Tamlin shift from his chair in the corner, groaning slightly at the sight before him. 

“Don’t move your hands from the armrest, High Lord, or I'll have to tie you up too. It’s not your turn yet.” 

At that, both males groaned again, Lucien’s breaths coming in pants before she even touched him. Elain slowly made her way onto the bed, tracing her hands teasingly along Lucien’s body as she moved up to straddle his blindfolded face. Grabbing his hair to position his mouth properly, she leaned down to whisper in his ear, still loud enough for Tamlin to hear from where he sat naked and painfully erect. 

“Now Lucien, eat my pussy like a good pet and I’ll let Tamlin come over and play with us. Show him how to please me.”

Lucien breathlessly choked out a, “yes” as Elain settled her soft thighs on either side of his head. As she lowered herself completely, she let out a soft moan as his tongue immediately got to work running over her already dripping slit and drinking her down like a fine wine. Arching her back, Elain looked over her shoulder to ensure Tamlin was keeping his hands off himself. 

He was seated with his legs spread wide, arm muscles straining as his claws pierced the plush chair in his struggle to obey the lady of the house. “Oh, so you can be trained,” Elain cooed toward him, breaths becoming more shallow as pleasure built low in her spine. Lucien was tied spread eagle beneath her, his thick cock straining and leaking onto his stomach as his mouth worked her toward release. With one finger, she beckoned Tamlin over to the bed and gave him his next order. 

“I want you to suck Lucien off so he comes with me. Think you can do that High Lord? Think you can follow my command?” Tamlin growled from low in his chest, but practically jumped out of the chair to join them on the bed. In one fluid motion he took Lucien’s cock deep to the back of the throat, his nose hitting the red hair at the base with each pass he made. As he worked his friend in his mouth, Tamlin went to grab his own cock, but Elain was too fast and she grasped his wrist. Tutting, she chastised him and said “Tamlin you know the rules, you can’t touch yourself until I say you can. And now you’ll have to wait for us to finish first.” 

Tamlin let out another growl while he was deep on Lucien’s cock, causing the male to trust his hips off the bed as he groaned around Elain’s clit. Grinding her hips harder onto Lucien’s face, Elain panted out, “I’m close, Tamlin. If he doesn’t come with me, you don't get to come at all.” 

They’d done this before, many times, and Tamlin had learned both their tells long ago. It didn’t take him long to match his ministrations to the motion of Elain’s hips. One hand went down to play with Lucien's balls, drawing him just as close to climax as his mate. Noticing the slight stagger of Elain’s movement as she tensed before release, he gave one hard tug on Lucien’s sac and sucked his dick deep into the back of his throat, applying the pressure he knew would send his friend directly to bliss. Elain screamed her orgasm right as Tamlin began to drink down hot spurts of Lucien’s cum. 

When they’d come down, Tamlin smirked to himself. He was still learning to follow orders, but he certainly knew how to get his favorite fox and fawn off at the same time. Elain rolled off Lucien, removing the blindfold and untying his limbs as he sat up. She curled into his side and they both faced the High Lord kneeling at the foot of the bed. 

Finally, Elain spoke. “What do you think Luci, was he good enough to deserve getting to fuck me?” 

“I’d say he did quite well, petal.” Lucien spoke from beside her, running his hands up and down her body, still coiled for another round. 

“Do you want to watch him fuck my pussy or my ass, mate? You deserve to make the choice.”

Lucien hummed contemplatively beside her, locking eyes with Tamlin for a moment before responding. 

“How about I don’t watch, and we both fuck you? I don’t want anyone else fucking that pretty pussy except me, but he can have your ass if you’d allow.” 

Elain shivered in anticipation, watching Tamlin slowly stroke himself as he looked between them.

“I like the sound of that very much.” 

And with that, all three realized their night had barely just begun.

[cootcutebatkat]

Random Ford Headcanons

He loves cats. Always have ever since he's heard about polydactyl cats when he was little. Hell, Caryn probably got him one once she noticed his fascination and why.

He's sometimes selfish out of protection and has no problem treating people he dislikes with contempt. The reason why is that he has trust issues and tends to make immediate judgements, so he tends to act hot and cold with folks. It's understandable considering peer abuse, the debacle with Stan and the Science Fair, Bill Cipher, and surviving the multiverse. Seriously, can you blame him? If you do, you're on his Don't Trust List.

That being said, he's learned to be polite, sometimes excessively so. That and he's learned to withhold judgements, so he can also be too forgiving at times as well. Again, hot and cold.

As he grew more confident in himself, so did he become more protective of others. That and he's made a lot of progress on learning to trust again. This leads him to being very soft with kids, animals, and other vulnerable things. In short, he is very Not immune to cuteness. (But he's always had a soft spot for cute things since he was young. He just hides it less now. And is no longer holding back his impulses on acting sweet towards them)

There are some things he can cook. He's lent a six-fingered hand or two in the kitchen before and he can do it well enough. It's just that sometimes... well, he can get lost in thought. He's always been a spacey kid. (cough-dissociation-cough-cough)

Traveling between dimensions, between realities with their own sets of rules about how the world works, means dealing with new laws of physics and plants and animals and what is edible and what isn't. Sure, there are recipes, but what is a sniffle-spoon? What do these symbols mean? I'm sorry but I'm still learning your language, so can you rephrase that please?

Baking is... somewhat easier. Especially when it's just plain ol' bread and maybe some confectionery or fruit added to it. It seems multi-universal.

He doesn't just have tattoos. He also has piercings! You'll catch him playing with the ones on his ears sometimes. He also likes to wear rings but hasn't truly worn them in public until he started traveling in the multiverse. The most rings he's worn habitually was when he was crowned king of the Finger Dimension.

One of his love languages is Acts of Service. He's always willing to do a favor for his loved ones in some shape or form, either right now or at least the moment he's available. Which is often soon and is followed by a "Now, what can I do for you?" However, if you're particularly close with him and/or do not mind such humor, he'll jokingly complain with a teasing smile on his face.

As a rambler himself, Ford makes an effort to listen as well, even if he doesn't understand what you're talking about. He's used to struggling to understand others ever since he was young, thanks to his difficulty with social rules and idioms. Also, he understands that he's rather arcane and cryptic to his audience as well, going off on tangents about whatever has caught his interest.

Ford is organized messy. He has a system, he swears! It's just... he's been busy, alright? He knows where everything is, so why mess with it? But when he does have his moments of organization, it's incredibly logical and systematical. But it won't take long for it to become messy again. When will he figure out a proper organizing system?

Ford is actually quite good at communication. But it's unfortunate that people tend to confuse him, including himself. He understands PTSD, but has had trouble with coping and self-awareness. Honestly, the most time he's had introspection was when he was in Gravity Falls as a researcher and a bit of high-school and college. But the isolation and the comfort and such allowed him to process some things. Apparently he has more things to process now. God dammit, says he.

Seems to believe in fate. So he might believe he bears some kind of curse or some great deal of bad luck due to circumstances. After all, what he's gone through is cruel and/or unusual. And somehow, he's survived. Grown stronger even. And he knows that higher beings exist, certainly has been hurt by them too. (cough Bill cough cough)

When you've gained his trust and care, he tends to initiate a lot of physical affection. Hugs, high-sixes, pats on the back, holding hands, leaning on each other, teasing jabs, and of course, if he feels close enough with you and you've especially expressed fondness for it, kisses. Plenty of them, whether your relationship is platonic, romantic, and/or sexual. When he's made his affections to you often enough, you can expect permission to reciprocate and initiate just as often.

Has struggled with suicide ideation for a long time, ever since he was young. Nowadays, he just jokes about it. He no longer feels the urge, but it never leaves his mind either. Rather, it's become a concept of mundane fascination, very distanced but still present. The worst was when he was betrayed by Bill and had to find a way to stop him for good. It felt like it was the only way. He is grateful that Stan is such a stubborn jackass.

Because he is so spacey, he's also surprisingly sensual. It's why he loves physical affection. It's alive. He's alive. He's here. It's also why he loves to draw and do crafts, to bake, to have tattoos and piercings and jewelry. Why he is keen on aesthetics. You'll often catch him stimming in some form or another.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

May I ask for a Male reader who's introducing Eddie to his mom for the first time and the mom is a lot like Eddie so they get along well, but then she catches Eddie and reader making out and about to get steamy? Sub reader if possible please!

I'll do my best fo you my dear.

Eddie Munson x Male Reader. It doesn't get "steamy" steamy, but Eddie definitely knows how to get his way.

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_________________________

You weren't Eddie's opposite--as in you were pastels, pop, and popular. But you and Eddie clearly stood on different ends of the outcast spectrum. That is until you compliment the Dio vest. It's a simple simple compliment as well--a quick, Cool vest but it's all Eddie needs to start paying attention to you. He went out of his way to ask you to sit with him and his friends at lunch after realizing you sat just four tables behind them and usually alone as you poured over a book or scratched down notes and drawings.

When you threw out questions about the campaign even though you weren't actively playing, Eddie swore in that Hawkins High cafeteria he was going to fall in love even if he didn't want it. Lunches together turned into hanging out at his trailer, which turned into going to the movies which turned into laying out on Lover's Lake, which turned into you inviting Eddie over for dinner to meet your mother.

"You want me to meet your mom?" Eddie asks, his arm thrown over your shoulders.

You nod, leaning in a little closer to Eddie's embrace. The TV still chatters away in front of you, blue and yellow hues dancing over the two of you. You two had been doing homework but it quickly ended when Eddie declared he was bored and clicked on the TV. Given it was a Saturday it wasn't that bad of a thing. You had been trying to help Eddie get into the habit of giving at least one hour on Saturdays to his makeup work, so he wasn't scrambling to do it all on Sundays.

"Please, Eds, " you tack on. "She's looking forward to meeting you actually. She'll like you."

Eddie almost wants to scoff. He almost wants to say that you're just saying that to make him feel better and give into the ask. Not that Eddie won't give in, but he doesn't need the pity. "Parents don't really like me. They tolerate me sure."

He thinks back to the brief relationship in his freshman year. Entirely brief and the whole time though he'd always been a gentleman, Eddie had been tolerated. He came over with flowers for both his partner and the mother--a forced thanks. He was respected every rule about them staying at his partner's place, they stayed downstairs, they watched TV or played a few board games. When he did take them outside of the house, he respected curfew.

But it only lasted a few weeks, maybe long enough to count to months, and then Eddie got the news, You're sweet. But my parents, they're concerned.

"I think you'll be shocked," you snort and then snuggle back into his side.

Eddie glances over to you. The thing that would shock Eddie would be nothing sort of a miracle.

Eddie doesn't believe in prayers, or greater beings in a religious sense. But when he knocks on the door the next day, and sleeve of tattoos greets him beneath the rolled up sleeves of the white long sleeve Eddie thinks miracles are answered prayers even if he's never uttered once since he was twelve.

"You must be Eddie!" The voice is chipper and the woman extends out her hand.

Eddie shakes it, mouth gaping like a fish. His brain can't quite compute and then he realizes he's holding out the hands with the flowers to shake and immediately switches. "Sorry! Hi, yes, I'm Eddie."

"C'mon in. We still got a little bit until dinner's ready--so sorry for the delay."

Eddie nods as he crosses the threshold. "No worries, ma'am. I understand." Eddie holds out the flowers as he closes the door behind himself. "These are for you."

"Thanks, sweetheart. We're just in the kitchen." Eddie follows behind and thinks he had to hallucinate the tattoos. Yeah it's all a hallucination. As he follows behind, the kitchen opens up to the sight of you in a button up, standing over the stove, and something catches just a little in the light. Eddie turns to the brightness and sees something silver in the top of your mother's ear. Perhaps the tattoos aren't an hallucination. Eddie risks a glance back down and they they sit, in vibrant colors.

"I-I hate to ask, but where did you get the ink?"

"Oh, god, got it years ago at this point. Down in Indy. The shop is still up and running actually. You looking something?"

Eddie shrugs. "Maybe, once money gets right. My current ones I love them, but I didn't exactly get them done professionally."

She laughs. "No worries. I am not the tattoo police. But if you ever want the name later on, just let me know."

"Thanks-thanks. I'll let you know if it becomes feasible. Do-do you all need an extra pair of hands?" Eddie asks, slipping a little closer to you. Your mother shakes her head, noticing how Eddie's creeping closer. She only grins and then turns to get the flowers settled. In the momentary distraction, Eddie presses a kiss to your cheek.

You get the sauce stirred one more time before turning to Eddie. You press a chaste kiss to his lips and reach for his hands. A couple fingers are bandaged up. "What happened?" you ask, bringing the covered digits to your lips briefly.

"Went a little too hard on a riff. I'm okay." Even though Eddie had spent years with the steel strings of his guitar, occasionally they did get the best of him even still. You give them another kiss and look over to your mother.

"Did I tell you Eddie plays, Ma?"

She shakes her head. "I don't think you did, hon. Bass, I hope," she teases.

You laugh, looking over to Eddie who's face holds his shock clear. "Ma plays the bass. SHe wants everyone to get in on it."

"Hey, you have no rhythm without the bass. So what do you play, Eddie?"

"N.J. Warlock," Eddie answers a bit sheepish. It's not usually his nature to be shy about it. But he's still trying to process the conversation he's even having right now. How had you never mentioned your mother playing bass? How hadn't you mentioned the tattoos? Your mother is undeniably cool, even metal if Eddie wanted to be fully honest. But he was so ready for this dinner to be the stuffer than his Sunday and funeral dress shirts.

By the time the food is done, and you three are all ready to eat, Eddie and your mom are chatting up a storm about guitars and that leads into discussions about music. It leads to Eddie discovering your mother's collection of metal and rock vinyls. You can only smile watching the way they're at ease with each other.

Seated next to Eddie, you place your hand on his knee and without missing a beat, he takes your head. "You okay, babe?" he asks, thumb stroking over your hand.

You nod. "Perfect." And you are, you're just so glad they're getting along.

You and Eddie volunteer to wash dishes. Eddie insists that he needs to do something to make up for such a great home cooked meal. And your mother lets it go without too much fuss. You start collecting plates and Eddie follows behind you back to the kitchen. "You did not tell me your mom was this cool," Eddie laughs.

"I wanted you to see for yourself. You wouldn't have believed me."

Eddie hooks a finger into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling you backwards from the sink. "So I might have let previous experiences have too much stake. But I'm glad I agreed."

His lips brush over your neck and your eyes flutter close at the feeling. "The closest thing I'll get you to saying I'm right."

Eddie's laugh is soft. "Not the only time you'll get this close." Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, fingers working to slip the rings off. "And I'm washing, sweets. You're drying."

"You don't get to boss me around in my house," you huff. "Besides your fingers are still bandaged."

"I think I do," Eddie teases. He drops his rings into your front pocket and then takes you by the hips top move out of the way of the sink. You hate him but you love it, as you feel the blood rushing and desire swirling in your lower stomach.

You manage to push him out of the way. "You dry because of your injury, bub."

"If you're going to be mean, the least I could get is a kiss," he pouts, taking the towel you hold out.

"You're right, lover. How dare I be so mean without a treat?"

Eddie doesn't wait for more before he cups your jaw and slots his lips around yours. He presses into your chest, taking in the smell of your cologne. You hum at the feeling, trying not to get too lost into the feeling of Eddie's strong grasp on your hips. You're sure, vaguely of aware of the sounds of your lips parting and meeting again, that you two are going to get caught but you don't really care.

"Whoops," your mother laughs.

By the time you blink back to reality, Eddie's in front of the sink, slipping hands into the yellow gloves your mother keeps at the sink. You huff, cheeks hot at being caught, but also Eddie using your weakness against you.

"Fuck you Munson," you mutter stealing the towel off his shoulder.

"Maybe later?" he teases.

"As long as there is lube, please," your mother interjects. You groan at her joke. Eddie cackles in your ear.

[chvoswxtch]

remember that I love you. (7/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (this is part 7 of this series!)

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: I am once again apologizing for breaking your hearts. you guys know i'm a slut for some good angst. feel free to yell at me in the comments. this series will have a happy ending bc I am a huge sap, I swear. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

tags: @uraveragequeer @rosaline-black @willowss055 @lovsersclub @bellegirl16 @boeutiful @starryeyedkoko @korkisobsessions @fckyeahlames

The past month with Eddie had been nothing short of absolute bliss. I still had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons, but neither he nor any of the boys held it against me. They still let me come to their meetings and join in on the fun that I could comprehend. I sat with them everyday at lunch as long as I didn’t have another student that needed help, or a deadline to help Nancy with. I had even finally introduced Eddie to my mother, who was instantly won over by his charm and promises of no grandchildren until way after graduation.

For once I believed that things were finally starting to look up. I was perfectly content with where my life was at. I had started preparing my valedictorian speech with Nancy’s help and feedback. I wasn’t being bothered by someone who thought they knew what was best for me. Eddie was so close to finally graduating, and was patiently teaching me how to play guitar. And I was slowly convincing him that going to prom wouldn’t be conformist on his part, but actually an act of rebellion. Everything was perfect.

I suppose, that was the problem. Everything was perfect, and I was too content. I got complacent. And the universe, being the vindictive bitch it was, had a recipe for chaos concocted just for me. I never thought one little piece of paper would decide my future, or flip my world upside down. I thought what Eddie and I had built together was strong and could withstand anything. But one little piece of paper had it crashing down around us like a house of cards. 

It was a Friday night, like any other. Eddie had promised to come by after band practice, and we were going to the local diner for burgers and milkshakes to celebrate his latest above average essay grade. Although, we had gotten a bit carried away before we could even step foot outside. Eddie’s high energy was still coursing through his veins when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. We quickly became a tangled mess of limbs and lips, neither of us feeling like we could get close enough to one another. I loved Eddie like this. He had made a new personal rule that he wasn’t satisfied if I didn’t come at least three times. And who am I to deny him what he wants? 

There was a hunger in his eyes as he stared up at me from his position between my thighs. He was insatiable when it came to devouring me. I was often the one who had to push him away because I was too sensitive, but he didn’t want to stop until he had every last drop of what I had to offer. Eddie was definitely a giver. I often had to fight back for my turn. I loved pleasing him. I loved the way he sounded. I love the faces he made, the filthy words he spoke, I loved him. 

I wanted to tell him, but I never got to say it the way I had planned. Because a little piece of paper that I had once dreamed of, suddenly became a nightmare I never wanted.

“What’s this?”

I turned my head in the direction of Eddie’s voice as I pulled my shirt over my head. I furrowed my brows slightly as I tried to make out what was in his hand. He held up a folded piece of paper that was in an envelope stashed beneath my pillow. My eyes widened once I realized what he had found.

“Oh, nothing. That’s nothing.”

“I dunno, looks important.”

“It’s um..nothing really. You ready to go? Cause I’m starving, and I could really go for-”

“Dear Miss Y/N Y/L/N, on behalf of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to New York University for the fall of 1986.”

Eddie’s voice trailed off as he read the rest of the letter, staring blankly down at the piece of paper in his hand. I hadn’t told him that I applied last fall. I hadn’t mentioned that I received the acceptance letter about two weeks after I had started tutoring him. I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not my mom, not even Nancy. NYU was a school I had dreamed of attending since I was little. My entire life, all I wanted was to go to school there. But now, I wasn’t so sure. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time.

“I..I was going to tell you.”

“When, graduation?”

There was an edge to Eddie’s voice that made me feel small. His hand was slightly shaking as he gripped onto the piece of paper, still refusing to meet my gaze. I nibbled anxiously at my bottom lip, slowly approaching him as he sat on my bed.

“No. I wasn’t going to wait that long, I just..”

“How long have you known? When did you get this?”

“March.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie quickly stood up and tossed the paper onto my bed. A dry, humorless laugh came from his mouth as he began to pace back and forth across the expanse of my bedroom.

“Eddie..please don’t be upset.”

“Upset? You’ve known about this for three fucking months now, and I’m just finding this out? That in what..a month when we graduate you’re just gonna, what? Take off? Runaway to New York City and send me a fucking postcard?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what, Y/N?”

“Look, I applied way before you and I even met, okay? And I got that letter right after I started tutoring you. I didn’t exactly think it was the best option to brag about getting into college when you were struggling just to graduate.”

Eddie dragged his palms down his face in aggravation, brushing his messy curls away from his face as he let out a deep sigh. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at me from across the room. I could see the hurt swimming in his eyes, and the look of betrayal casting over his features.

“And what about when we started dating, huh? You didn’t think to mention it then?”

I had been dreading this conversation ever since I realized I had feelings for Eddie Munson. Even more so when he finally confessed his feelings for me. I knew I should’ve just ripped it off like a bandaid, dealt with the pain and given it time to heal. But for a goddamn moment I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to live in my little bubble with Eddie and not worry about the future. I sat down on the edge of my bed, fiddling with my fingers and hanging my head in shame.

“No.”

I heard him scoff and slap his hands against his thighs, resuming his pacing across my floor.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I didn’t accept it.”

Eddie’s movements instantly halted at my admission. I could feel his unwavering gaze from where I sat. I couldn’t look at him. I had a gut feeling about where this conversation was going, and I wasn’t ready for it.

“Why?”

Eddie’s tone wasn’t curious, but demanding. He knew there was something else I was holding back. I hated how easily he could read me sometimes. It gave me absolutely no chance at an upper hand. I could see his beat up sneakers coming into view as he moved to stand in front of me, slowly lowering down onto his knees so that I had no choice but to be eye level with him.

“Why.”

There was no emotion in his voice. No warmth. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. There was no more hiding and running from this.

“Because..I’m not sure if it’s what I want anymore.”

After a moment of silence, I mustered every ounce of bravery I could find within myself to open my eyes and look at Eddie. There was a deep, somber expression etched onto his features and it made my chest feel tight. Neither one of us spoke for a solid two minutes. Eddie stared at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my face and it made me nervous. I waited, with bated breath for him to say something. Anything. All I wanted was for him to kiss me and tell me everything would be fine, and that we would work it out together. I waited in agony for any kind of response, just some inkling that we were okay. 

Eddie swallowed thickly, rising up from his spot in front of me and over towards my dresser to retrieve his keys.

“I need to go.”

I panicked as he walked through my doorway. I was on my feet in a flash, my heart pounding in my chest as I gripped onto his wrist to hold him in place.

“Eddie..please. Don’t go. Look I..I-I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner. I was just..Eddie please stay. Come on, we still have to celebrate don’t we?”

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

I was beginning to hate my own name the more Eddie said it. He hardly ever called me by my name, and hadn’t since we first met. It was always a sweet pet name. Eddie using my name only shot my anxiety further through the roof, and kept chipping away at my strength. Every step he took towards the door, every dull, monotonous repetition of my name was another crack in my heart. 

I surged in front of him, placing my palms against his chest and used all the strength I had to keep him in place. For a second I was a scared little four year old girl again, begging my dad to stay. I was on the verge of tears and I didn’t care how desperate I looked in front of him. I couldn’t let him go without knowing we were okay.

“Eddie..please. Please just..just tell me it’s okay. Please? We’re okay, right? I can’t let you walk out like this..Eddie please.”

Eddie closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself, setting his jaw in a hard line. I could feel the shuddering breaths he was taking with my hands still fixated on his chest. When he opened his eyes again, they were pleading with mine. He gently wrapped his hands around my wrists to pry my hands away, slowly moving them to hang by my sides.

“I..I need time to think.”

Eddie closed the front door quietly, but it roared in my ears. There was a finality to it that was the final crack in my chest. He didn’t say it. He didn’t say we were okay. I didn’t feel the sting of the cold tile biting at my knees as I fell to the floor. I didn’t register the sound of my mom's keys jangling in the lock twenty minutes later. I could hardly hear her voice as she held me in her arms and I clutched at my chest, trying desperately but failing to explain what was happening through tears. That was the second time Eddie Munson had left me in a crumpled mess on the floor.

I called relentlessly over the next two days. The only person I ever got on the phone was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, who kept apologetically informing me Eddie wasn’t available. I drove by his trailer several times, hoping to just get a glimpse of him, but his van wasn’t there and neither was he. Sleep evaded me as I constantly pondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. I was turning myself into a pathetic mess over it. I tried to stay positive, not assume the worst for once. He’s just upset. He was caught off guard, that’s all. He just needs time.

I barely slept a wink Sunday night, even getting to the library at 6:30 instead of my usual 7:15. I chewed at my nails as I watched the clock hands ticking by, my head shooting over towards the front doors at the slightest sound. 

7:30 7:40 7:50 8:00.

The first warning bell sounded at 8:30 and I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. He didn’t show. I sat there, frozen in the reality of the situation. I didn’t move until the late bell sounded. I barely made it through my first class, rushing immediately towards Mrs. O’Donnell’s classroom before second period started.

“Mrs. O’Donnell! Have you seen Eddie? I didn’t see him this morning so I wasn’t sure if he was sick or-”

“Oh dear, didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Silly boy, must have forgot. He is a forgetful one, you know. You don’t have to tutor Mr. Munson anymore, Y/N. There’s only a handful of assignments left this semester, and even if he fails those, he’s still out of my classroom come June.”

“Oh..he um..yeah. Must have slipped his mind to tell me the..good news.”

The severity of the situation was finally starting to sink in. Eddie wasn’t answering my calls. Eddie wasn’t home when I went to see him. Eddie didn’t show up to tutoring this morning. Eddie doesn’t need me to tutor him anymore. He had finally gotten out of the one thing that brought us together. He doesn’t want to see you. 

I decided to hear the message loud and clear instead of embarrassing myself even further. The last thing I needed was for Eddie to add “clingy” to the list of growing reasons to avoid me right now. I didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch. I didn’t wait by Eddie’s locker for him after class. I didn’t wait by his van in the back parking lot so he could take me home from school. For the first time in weeks I walked home. Alone.

I thought Monday had been brutal, but Tuesday and Wednesday weren’t any more forgiving. I tried to distract myself as much as possible, but it was no use. Eddie had become the center of my universe, my sun. And without him, everything felt dull and cold. I was mindlessly swapping out my textbooks when a familiar pair of brown eyes met mine once I shut my locker door. I jumped in surprise, clutching my books to my chest. 

Eddie.

He was staring at me, that goddamn unreadable look on his face again. I hated that look. I hated not being able to see through him like he could me. I stared at him wordlessly, afraid to be the first one to speak. His lips parted slightly as he sighed, gesturing his head towards the door that led outside.

“Can you meet me at my spot in the woods after school?”

My spot.

My stomach was in knots. I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid that my voice would betray me, so I settled for nodding my head slowly. Eddie continued to stare at me for a moment, eventually dropping his gaze and nodding back. As quick as he had been there, he was gone. I felt like I was going to throw up. That queasy feeling lingered in my stomach the rest of the afternoon, and the final bell sent me into a panic. 

My hands were shaking as I walked across the football field, through the clearing to a path in the woods. There was a spot that had a picnic table no one knew about, except Eddie. Well..Eddie and all his “clientele”. He had brought me here a few times when we were supposed to be studying, but ended up making out instead. Eddie had declared it our hiding place. 

He was waiting for me already. His hands were folded in front of him on the picnic table. There was a far away look in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. He almost looked..remorseful. The panic began to bubble inside me once again. I wanted to turn around and run. I considered it actually, but a broken branch had alerted Eddie of my presence and now his gaze was fixated slowly on me. I froze. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest I was sure Eddie could hear it in the silence.

“Hey.”

I don’t remember a time I ever felt nervous around Eddie, at least not in a bad way. I had never felt this tense around him, or this scared. Eddie’s eyes shifted up and down my form, eventually settling back on mine. I couldn’t move. If I sat down, I had to face reality. If I ran, I could avoid it. But for how long? Eddie sighed as he leaned back slightly, rubbing his palms over his jeans.

“Are you gonna sit? Or..do I need to come to you?”

I lightly clenched my fists at my sides to get them to stop shaking. Keeping my head down, I took slow strides over towards the picnic table, sitting on the opposite side of Eddie. I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at the faded wood in front of me. There was a rusted nail coming out of placement.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. This was it. My face felt hot and my throat was dry. I could feel that familiar lump blocking off my airway. Wet tears rimmed my eyes and threatened to spill at any moment. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look at him. All I could do was close my eyes and hope this would be over quickly. I heard him let out a deep sigh across from me, and the sound of his metal rings dragging over the wood as he extended his hand.

“Sweetheart.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. That one little use of a pet name had me reeling, feeling the slightest twinge of hope that maybe this wouldn’t end badly. The dam had broken, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tears were falling over each other in waves, but there was something off about the way he said it. It wasn’t warm. It was..detached. I pulled away from his grasp as he sat down next to me to wrap his arm around my shoulder. Even his touch was cold. 

“Baby..I need you to listen to me, please. Can you do that for me?”

His voice was tender as he spoke, like the way you might speak to an upset child. I had a gut feeling I knew what he was about to say. I could feel it. I just needed to get the words out to change his mind..but I couldn’t find them. I finally opened my eyes to look up at Eddie, finding that his eyes were shining with regret. I held back a choked sob as I suddenly reached out to grip onto his hand tightly.

“Please..”

Eddie shook his head slowly, wiping at his own cheeks before bringing his large hands up to cup my face. He brushed his thumbs lightly over my cheekbones, leaning in to brush his nose along mine softly.

“I need you to hear me out, alright?”

I let out a shaky breath as I nodded quickly, gently grabbing onto Eddie’s wrists to keep him close. I was afraid if I let go, he would disappear. He pulled back slightly so that he could look into my eyes.

“I care about you, more than anything. More than I ever thought I could possibly care about someone. I want you to know that.”

“I do, Eddie. I swear.”

“I am so fucking glad I met you, I am. Not just because you helped me when no one else would, but because you’ve been the biggest source of light in my life. The one good thing I could always count on. No matter what kind of shit day I was having, or what was going on, all I had to do was see that pretty face, and all the other shit just slipped away. You make me so fucking happy, Y/N.”

“You make me so happy too, Eddie. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world with you.”

“And I want you to know how fucking proud of you I am. Because I’m so fucking proud. You are so damn smart, and kind, and talented..and you deserve the world, angel. Nothing fucking less. But..I can’t give that to you.”

“Eddie-”

“Y/N, I’m not going to let you throw your future away because of me. You gave me a chance, to get the hell out of here and make something of myself. Now I have to do that for you. Because you are meant for so much more than this. You are so much bigger than this stupid fucking town. You have to get out, you have to go to New York, and you have to become someone..someone great. You have to live that life you always dreamed of, and I can’t stand in your way.”

“You’re not in my way, Eddie. You could never be in my way. I just..please I need you to understand-”

“Sweetheart, I can’t make it into college with my grades. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going to do once I graduate, but I am not dragging you down with me. I won’t.”

“You’re not..Eddie please, just listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Eddie please..please. I love you. Please..don’t do this. Just let me explain..please.”

Eddie gave me a sad smile that broke my heart. There was a pained look on his face as tears rolled down his own cheeks, leaning in to gently press his lips against mine. I could taste the salt from his tears, and it only made me cry harder. This was going to be our last kiss. Eddie was saying goodbye.

“I know..I know, angel. I love you, so fucking much. Which is why I have to let you go. I can’t be the one to ruin your dreams, I would never forgive myself. I love you too much to do that, and as much as I want to be selfish, I can’t. I always knew deep down..that you were..you were too good for me. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, I really did. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you..and as much as I wanted that to be me, and God did I fucking want it to be..it just isn’t.”

I wanted to scream at him, grab him by the collar of his shirt and scream until my lungs gave out that he was wrong..that he just didn’t understand. I just needed to make him understand. That unforgiving lump in my throat wouldn’t budge. Words teetering on the tip of my tongue escaped me. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t breathe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. 

I felt his lips ghost over my forehead, and then felt the emptiness of his touch. I felt like I was drowning. Everytime I gasped for air, another tide crashed over me and held me captive under the surface. I could feel water filling my lungs, taking over the space my oxygen once resided. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I might pass out.

“You’re gonna do big things, angel. Big fucking things. Please..remember that I love you. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m..I’m so fucking sorry.”

I didn’t move for five hours. I just sat there..frozen. Everytime I thought I couldn’t possibly shed any more tears, a fresh batch fell from my eyes. I went through alternating intervals of pain and numbness. Every now and then, I would feel nothing. A shallow, abandoned house..one gust of wind away from falling apart. Then the pain would start back up, spreading like a virus, until it was everywhere. I felt it ache in my bones. I didn’t know which was worse. The absence of him, or the incessant reminder that he was real. That he had been here. And that he wasn’t coming back.

I didn’t even flinch when I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder, shining a flashlight in my direction. I barely heard Nancy yelling to the other members of my search party that she had found me. I stared blankly at her as she shook me by the shoulders, shouting words my brain couldn’t bother to process. I didn’t look up when Robin and Steve emerged from behind her, flashlights in hand and genuine expressions of concern. I had completely shut down. 

Nancy’s fury slowly melted into apprehension. She carefully sat down in front of me, unease written all over her face as she took my hand into hers, gently calling my name to get my attention. All at once, the agony collided so hard into my chest it knocked the breath out of me. I clutched at my chest as I hunched over, sobs wracking violently throughout my entire body. Nancy didn’t hesitate to pull me in, coddling my head against her chest as she rocked me slowly, brushing my hair out of my face that had been glued by my tears. She shared a knowing look between Robin and Steve, silently delegating to the two of them. 

“I’ll..go bring the car around. Steve..keys?”

Steve fished into his pocket for his keys, tossing them into Robin’s direction. Nancy sighed softly as she looked up at him, gesturing her head down towards me.

“Can you carry her, please?”

Steve handed off his flashlight to Nancy, tucking his arm under my knees and wrapping the other around my back. I didn’t hardly know Steve at all, and if I were in any other state of mind, I would probably be embarrassed he was having to carry me like this. But I didn’t care. Not one fucking bit. I couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the tormented weight in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hid my face into his chest, crying shamelessly as if he was an old friend I had known my whole life.

“Shh, it’s alright Y/N. I got you. We’re gonna take you home, alright?”

I didn’t wanna let go. I didn’t want to feel that ache of emptiness again. I couldn’t bear it. I needed something to grip onto to tether me to the surface before I went under again. I didn’t let go of Steve the entire ride to my house, or when he carried me through the door to face my incandescent mother, or even when he laid me down in my bed. I couldn’t let go. My grip on his jacket only tightened when he went to move, a broken whimper coming from my chest.

“Alright..alright. I won’t go, I promise. I’ll stay right here. Nancy’s here too, and Robin. We’ll all just have a little slumber party. You know what, Y/N, you’re actually making one of my wildest dreams come true. I get to have a sleepover with three chicks. Can cross that off my bucket list.”

“Steve, shut the hell up.”

“Relax, Nance. I’m just trying to get her to laugh.”

If I hadn’t been reduced to a fragile shell of the girl I was several hours ago, I would’ve laughed, much to Nancy’s dismay. I would have laughed and apologized to Steve for being so high maintenance. I would have told him how much I appreciated him being there for me, even though he didn’t know me. I would have apologized to Nancy and my mom for making them worry sick about where I was. I would have apologized to Robin for getting her dragged into my mess. I would have been able to function and use my words and explain to everyone what was going on.

But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I felt hollow, like everything good inside me had been carved out. I didn’t fight sleep this time. I surrendered and let it take over, coaxing me under into a brief semblance of peace. It seemed even my brain and subconscious knew better than to twist the knife because for the first time in months, I didn’t dream of Eddie Munson.

[inkblot22]

I agree!! aftermaths are ALWAYS my favourite to read during forced pregnancy stories and I actually hate when it ends with the yandere impregnating darling like how do u know if she truly got pregnant? where’s the horror in finding out you’re carrying your rapist’s child(ren)? how does reader deal with that? how does the yandere react to that? (I’m sure he knows but finding out the news from you yourself would surely elicit different emotions) how does he react when you say you wanna get rid of it? how do they both cope as parents? sooo many possibilities!! I’m glad to know the story I requested will not end with epel just impregnating darling!! thank you sm for that <3

also seeing as how both you and the other anon rank epel low I hope to see he be ranked higher in the future >:3

- epel felmier anon 🍎💜

ALL the freaking possibilities! The machinations of the yandere's mind when the baby-trapping (consensual or not) isn't received well is bound to be endlessly fascinating. Idk, stories work well sometimes if you let the reader imagine the hopelessness of a situation, but they work even better if you showcase it.

I'm putting the other stuff under a cut because I'm about to go on a bit of a tangent. Also, I have not read book seven yet, if anyone spoils it, I will temporarily block you until after I have read it.

I ranked Epel a C the first time because I didn't know anything about him at the time, almost every character save for the ones I really loved the designs for were lower than I would put them today, and frankly some were higher. I've done another tier list, this is not the old one. I have a pretty high opinion of most of the characters regardless of their ranking, here's the maker I used.

Okay, so, I feel the need to specifically explain Crewel: I don't like being treated like a dog. Pet play is not my thing, and I do not understand the hype surrounding him whatsoever. Why would I want to hang out with someone who probably smells like a really strong, expensive cologne and refuses to call me anything other than "good boy"? No thanks, y'all can have him. Crowley is self-explanatory.

Riddle, Silver, and Lucius all have their good qualities, I will admit. But I'm the type of person who would avoid both of the people for varying reasons (Riddle is annoying, I don't like being bothered when I'm minding my own fucking business because I'm "breaking the rules" and I don't want to wake up Silver and I don't know enough about him,) and I would get irrationally mad at Lucius for always getting into fights with Grim.

C tier is somewhat similar to D for me. I'd very likely not go out of my way to interact with these guys, but they're either more approachable or less irritating than D tier. I'm sure you can see a trend with at least two of them, but most of these mfs are too high energy or too intense. Sebek is here because while I don't like petplay, I do like degradation and I think he would be excellent at that, given his usual temperament and opinion on humans. Deuce is there because I find him to be a very one-note character. Everyone in this game is well-written, but not everyone can be interesting. Trein is here because I know I'd be constantly getting in trouble in his class for drawing instead of paying attention. By the way, when did people who were 50 become old? Idk I consider old to be like 70+ but maybe that's just because of the people I grew up around.

B tier is characters that I am aware I am sleeping on, with the bonus of Vargas, who I actually like quite a bit. Not enough to put him in higher than B tier, though. Ortho and Idia are sort of a package deal, but I do like Ortho less than I like Idia. Azul pisses me off but I am a sucker for a pathetic man.

EPEL!!! THE ONE WE'VE BEEN WAITING FOR!! Epel is like Deuce, if Deuce had more of a twisted view of himself. Reading though his little dilemma in book 5 didn't make me sympathize, but it did endear him to me. I can understand getting upset because you are literally unable to express yourself in a way that you would like because of reasons outside of your control. Beyond that, I love it when characters have a secret rough side (sorry Deuce.) Two-faced characters are my favorite thing.

A tier is characters I would like to put in S but I am too scared of them to do so. While C and lower are characters I would avoid because they're annoying, A tier is literally just characters I would avoid because they're freaky. I think people forget that the first interaction we have with Leona is him threatening to beat the shit out of us because we accidentally tripped on his tail. While Trey is sweet, he's the absolute definition of a two-faced character and he's way too observant to be comfortable around. Idk, maybe that makes him boyfriend material. I feel like anyone who has been on this blog at this point already understands my viewpoint of Jade, Floyd, and Rook. They scare the mess out of me and I love them for that.

With S tier, I'm actually going to specify a couple things: Sam is up there because I know I'd constantly be in his shop, buying things with thaumarks I should save just because I know his shop would smell like home. I feel like where a lot of people see Sam and think "this man can FUCK," I see Sam and think "big brother material." The sibling that I am closest to is literally just barely a year younger than Sam. Also, to clarify, I'm Black with family from the south. Grim is also sibling material. He's like a little brother, and I love him for that even though he pisses me off.

Now back to the WHORE KNEE. I very desperately want to bring my personal Vil series to this blog. I think maybe someone else would enjoy it, because what's more lovely than a man who sees what he wants in a person that isn't what he wants but forces to be what he wants anyway? I love that shit. Lilia is prime fodder for coercion fics, and I'd love to see more of those because he's very wise (because he's old as hell) and he's had a lot of practice at being a sweet talker. I think with a gullible reader?? Oh my god??? I'm not shy about my opinion on Malleus, Jamil, and Idia, and I think I talk about Idia a bit too much. Jamil stole my heart from the minute he was all sweet and kind in book 4 because he is so obviously two-faced that only the overly trusting would fall for that. Also, Jafar was something of an awakening for me. Who cares about Aladdin? I want the old man. As for Malleus, I like that he fills out the gap moe trope, but not overly so. He absolutely strikes me as the type to assume he knows best for both parties involved, and if he doesn't assume, he decides for you.

Anyway, knowing me, this list will have switched all over the place in a month's time. Thanks for reading my garbled nonsense.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

4402's zombie au notes and commentary

so obviously i started thinking about this au for this request but let me tell u! when it comes to big aus like these one of the best starting points for me is to think about the worldbuilding. which i guess always happens with me, but the thoughts i had on how the characters translate to an apocalypse setting plus not abiding by other media rules on zombies was simply too much to think about that couldn't get covered in that fic! so here u go! free brainrot material! obvious spoilers for that fic btw

i didn't want to tie myself down with the mechanics of zombies, esp ones we already know from other media like the walking dead or whatever. so a lot of the terminology here is vague. the "outbreak" can refer to an illness just as well as an infection or mutation or even an invasive species, but the important part is that it's highly contagious, kills, and then regenerates the body FAST once it comes in contact with blood

on that note. it is confirmed topical/parenteral contact with the zombie spreads the condition, but when reader tastes the blood on their face in the final scene, uh, bad news for them, oral administration/digestion would not end well

every character has a role in their party. shu is the brains (and was a lot more of a support than leader before the events of the fic), while luca is the brawn. vox and ike are doers- vox is an active presence and throws himself into danger, while ike stays behind and makes sure the little details run smoothly. mysta was the moral compass that made sure everyone's spirits were high enough to avoid conflict. and reader is an observer. they usually intake information faster than the rest of the crew, and know how to perceive when things aren't adding up

every character has a weapon, and i wanted these to be more unconventional ones to really hone in the apocalypse theme. i almost gave vox a machete but i figured that's only something rural homeowners would have on hand (i wanted everyone's origins to be vague so this fic is more relatable) and also, it's a little too on the nose, no? besides, using a rebar ripped from a broken building? that's metal as fuck

when i started the fic shu was entirely an improvised weapon guy. lots of disposable things. the molotov was a reference to his fire sorcery, and millwall bricks are made entirely from newspaper. as i continued i realized he needed something consistent, so he got a fire poker as another reference to his lore

luca is the only person with two weapons, a shotgun and a spiked bat. he's the muscle after all! i tried to veer away from lore bc obviously some luxiem would have a huge advantage if they had, say, demonology or curses available. but i will say it's probs canon he's been around the block at least, no comment on if he was actually a mafioso or not. either way. he's the only one there that really understands firearms and how to stay calm until you really need it, and the spiked bat is his default. it's brutal and easy to use

reader uses two climbing picks. i'm not totally sure why, but for the past few months i've been enamored with climbing picks as a weapon. watching the new puss and boots last month didn't help either. they're like sickles, but less difficult to use since they aren't as curved. and they're practical outside of a fight too! this is the important part about why reader uses them. they're observant. sure, there's more conventional weapons in the party, but the picks are multiuse, and can get you out of a pinch, like how you and vox scaled the townhouse to escape. total bummer you were trapped underground, though

ike... okay. i'm not immune to eki. and it's just that he pairs so well with knives, no matter how hard i tried i always came back to them! more specifically how he has a set, not just one. the others don't come into play but he has a full set of kitchen knives- the others, he meticulously cleans and uses when preparing food or shelter. the largest chef's knife is dedicated for zombie slaying, and the cleaver can cut through bone. you have to use force to use a cleaver correctly. it's impractical for when a zomb's in your face, but give him the time and he can confirm none of them rise again. one of the may ways he stays in the background and makes sure everything is going to plan even when his assistance isn't really flashy

i never wrote him using it but mysta had a woodcutter's hatchet. he also chose his weapon for practicality like reader and ike. however, if you know anything about realistic axe fighting, it's that woodcutter axes are wildly different from fighting axes. the former is extremely heavy while the other is light. once you swing with a woodcutter's hatchet you can't stop. he was looking for a lighter alternative before the townhouse incident, like a proper weapon or a fireman's hatchet, but. well. um

mysta himself is more of a concept than a character in this fic. he definitely had a presence in the party before the events but there's a reason he never had any dialogue. he represents the morale of the party just as much as he does the unreachable sun. "because mysta died" is an unspoken motivation for just about everything the characters do in this fic, and his name becomes synonymous with a peaceful afterlife after hell on earth. when the characters can't even utter his name, it's because that peace is so far away they can't possibly fathom it

the luxiem + reader dynamic was way more lighthearted before mysta's death. it wasn't all joy, because hello, zompocalypse! but it was enough. his death is what kickstarts the animosity, as well as the trauma responses of the rest of the guys. ike's is mentioned by reader a few times and shu's grief is a source of tension but the rest of luxiem wasn't as focused on

vox is characterized with this heroic, "it's up to me to make things right" type of savior complex. mysta's death is the first time things have gone so horribly wrong, and the way that he sees it is like, "i watched him get swarmed, and if i could watch him then i could've ran and fought. my inaction is the reason why he died". even the way he breaks the news to shu and the gang is presentational because he detaches himself from reality for this whole hero thing, even though he doesn't recognize it himself. he's very dramatic. but he also deflects emotion in pursuit of action, like telling shu to set the townhouse on fire, and ignoring reader's concern over him. his last action is attempting to save reader and ike even when he knows there's nothing he can do, and all he has to show for it is his hand getting crushed by a piece of rubble that falls on it

i am VERY PROUD of how i wrote luca. which is to say i didn't write him at all. his characterization is invisible and that's what makes me so happy about it! i feel awful for him them most out of anyone here! vox witnessed mysta get swallowed up by the horde but luca was there with mysta the entire time, and when mysta sacrificed himself so luca can live, luca froze in shock and fear. he never gets over that moment. and luxiem doesn't mean to exclude him, but they're so worried over shu's meltdown and what to do next and this and that to read how mixed all his feelings are on it. vox is fixated on protecting him, and when he's in shock ike hides luca's vision so he's the only one that doesn't see mysta's silhouette in the townhouse before it goes up in flames. i... don't want to give away the answer, i'm sure rereading will identify it, but there's this one line of dialogue that sums up everything he's going through perfectly, and even reader the observer doesn't notice it like how he wants it to be noticed. my heart bleeds for him. when the ceiling collapses reader is struck by how he freezes, and it's a reprise of mysta's death for him. he's not getting over that either. after all he's the muscle but what good is muscle if it can't move?

shu,,,,,, if there's anything that i can say it's that he's not trying to be the villain. he had to mercy kill his brother in one of the most brutal ways imaginable, and then had to speedrun the five stages of grief because someone needs to lead this team. vox tries to lead just as much as shu does, but luca makes a good point. i don't think shu hates them at all. he's a very mama-bear type of character. he has a clear vision in mind of what he wants the path to look like, and anything outside of his vision is uncertain and thus dangerous. but luca makes a good point, and how malicious it's intended to be, i can't say, but he shuts down vox and luca a lot. he would never admit it during the events of the fic but there is a very ugly, very cavernous part of his soul that wants to blame someone, plural

so reader and ike are dead right. those two were the most mentally healthy(?) of the group, or at least, the ones that could help the group manage stress the best. now all that's left is vox, who hates himself for failing to save his friends three times now; shu, who already wasn't taking mysta's death well and certainly isn't going to do any better with the latest casualties; and luca, who everyone wants to protect and no one wants to listen to, and can barely get a word in between shu and vox's fights, and knows he doesn't have the instinct to act when it matters. i wish i had the clarity of mind to see and write their travel together. two of them were already at each other's throats, and the third is about ready to snap. i wish i could tell you how they destroy one another

there were so many points in this fic where i had to ask myself, am i going too far? this happens often, especially with angst, especially with romantic x readers. sometimes i wish i could describe ugliness! snot from crying and screaming so hard you retch in chunks, contortion, all that noise! when i get an opportunity to describe gore i fuckin' take it because that's pretty grody but in a hot bloodshed way. lots of other nastiness isn't very attractive, though, and the point of romantic x readers is to be attractive. so these "should i take a step back" moments really come in through with shu's breakdown, which was written to be as visceral and scathing and uncomfortable as possible. in early-early planning mysta was originally intended to been bitten and turned as you would expect, but the fire was added to it promptly to continue the plot- and when i wrote it, i felt so awful, it was such a brutal way to go out. that's when i figured i just need to commit to the thought, make things feel raw and tangible instead of manicured, and that i'd just be generous with tags. i'm very glad i stayed committed. even though i had to take so many mini breaks in ike's final moments to just look up and mutter to myself "man i'm so fucked up for this one". i'm also very glad that i knew reader would've blacked out and repressed the memory of killing ike, because i did say earlier, cleavers cut through bone. i love a good bloodfest but i think i gotta draw the very-far-away line at ike's head split apart, hotdog not hamburger

[siriannatan]

They don't deserve you - flower husbands

Just a random anime-school!AU thingy I put together in like and you or two :}

AO3

Jimmy had no idea what to do with himself now. Just yesterday he would just go on a patrol to make sure no one used club time as an excuse to break school rules. And yes, maybe everyone was right and he wasn't made for the Law Keeper's position in the student council. And it was maybe correct that he only got it because no one else wanted that position. but he was doing his best anyway. He certainly wasn't doing it to maybe impress Council's Treasurer, fWhip. No. Not at all. Jimmy just liked rules...

Not that anyone ever appreciated his hard work. 

Even fWhip, who initially liked Jimmy calling himself School Sheriff would snicker and giggle whenever Jimmy's reprimands and calls to keep up the rules failed. Jimmy just took forever to see it. Like an absolute idiot.

"Maybe I shouldn't have quit..." Jimmy sighed staring at the School Council's building. Empires High was a fancy school for rich kids that left most of its internal student-student problems to the council. And Jimmy just quit that council. Threw his badge in Joel's stupid face - even called him stupid to his face despite the fact that Council President was dating his sister - and said he was done and stormed out.

He fully expected they would ask him to come back by now but no. Joel at all didn't mind taking over Jimmy's old responsibilities until a new 'Sheriff' could be found. The idiot just liked the attention. Well. If they didn't need him then he didn't need them. But what was he to do during club time?

He couldn't just go home. And he didn't feel like joining a club or spending it in the library working on his homework. He could... No. Scott would...

"You okay?" Jimmy would run away with some half-baked excuse hearing Scott's voice on any other occasion. Today he just didn't really feel like it. "You look down, and I heard some rumours..." Scott hummed as he sat down next to Jimmy on the rooftop access stairs. The view of the Council building was perfect from there and few came by.

"Why do you care... I... We... We're no longer friends," Jimmy sighed, considering if he maybe could still run away. The art building had a similarly good view. But Lizzie was likely there.

"We both know we were a bit more," Scott giggled but it fell flat at the lack of response. "Come on Jim, you tried playing by the rules, it didn't work, why not come back to what worked?" the 'delinquent' offered. Scott wasn't that bad as far as delinquents went, but he deeply disliked the rules and anyone trying to make him do stuff he didn't want to do. 

"Following you around you mean?" Jimmy huffed, glancing at his former... friend. Thinking about what they actually were, in secret, would only make now worse.

"Oh, Jimmy, there's no way you think about our time that way," Scott pouted. His fake tears were as good as ever but Jimmy could see through them so he just stared at him, unimpressed. "Me wanting to hang out with you has nothing to do with your tendency to just follow along with others, I just didn't want anyone thinking they can use it," Scott shook his head, pushing himself into a corner, looking right at Jimmy. "And because you're darn cute. Lame jackets and hats or not." 

"They're not that bad," Jimmy huffed. His 'lame' jackets and hats were currently buried deep in his wardrobe so no one could get rid of them before Jimmy was ready to do it.

"They're cute, but only on you. If anyone else put these on they'd look like a loser," Scott grinned, sending Jimmy a wink.

"I remember more than one occasion when you borrowed one of my heinous jackets and looked damn smug about it," Jimmy tried to sound annoyed but he could not help a slight hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, but I look good in everything and besides, who wouldn't want to borrow a cute guy's jacket?" Scott's coy tone and confident smile were enough for Jimmy to remember how much he missed this jerk. "Want to grab milkshakes after the damn club period is done?" Scott asked, leaning forward a bit. Their faces were still a respectable, proper 'I'm just messing with you' distance apart but just barely.

"Who says I want to go anywhere with you?" Jimmy hummed back but leaned forward just a bit. Their noses were almost touching.

"Just a hunch," Scott seemed to shrug. Miss-matched teal and golden eyes not leaving Jimmy's golden ones for even a second. "The damn council doesn't deserve you, Jim. You don't..."

Scott's face angled just a bit as he spoke and Jimmy couldn't stand the tension anymore. What was he supposed to do with himself without the Badge? He couldn't hang out with Lizzie even without Joel around, she was so disappointed with him that she could barely look at him at home. Scott on the other hand could not care less so... Jimmy shut him up with a kiss. 

It was short, brief, and only meant to shut Scott up for a second. Far from enough for either of them after their long break from each other. "Want to skip the club time and grab some milkshakes?" Jimmy asked with a smirk, he missed how easily flustered Scott got whenever his flirting was sincerely returned. "I know an exit no one ever checks."

"Breaking rules? How romantic," Scott giggled once the shock passed.

Jimmy shrugged. "They shouldn't just let someone who knows all the rules and secret passages go so easily," he grinned offering Scott a hand in getting up. Scott instantly latched himself to Jimmy's arm once up.