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scarlet-bitch · 29 days

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You'd Have to Stop the World...

11.5k words, FWB Eddie X afab!reader, 18+ Explicit Content - MDNI, use of "baby" as a nickname, no use of y/n, little to no description of reader, set in Hawkins 1990 so everyone's aged up accordingly, no mention of upside down - could sorta be canon if you pretend vecna was defeated and eddie never got attacked by the bats but reader wouldn't know it ever existed. * fair amount of smut in this especially the beginning - it's a fwb plot so... but yes, there is plot. lots of angst and some fluff*

a/n: most of my ideas are usually inspired by a song - the concept for this came entirely through a playlist I made, so l added the track list! Feedback is greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading and as always, I hope you enjoy! xo, scarlet 💋

Struggling through a dry spell, an ideas comes to you when your attractive friend Eddie vents about his recent disappointing hookups. What starts as casual fun gradually complicates as physical and emotional boundaries begin to blur.

“I keep recalling things we never did / Messy top lip kiss / How I long for our trysts / Without ever touching his skin / How can I be guilty as sin?”

A few years ago, you met Eddie Munson, thanks to an introduction from your then coworkers, Robin and Steve. What began as a casual acquaintance in a larger group quickly evolved into a genuine friendship.

But as with many great friendships, a new romance - this time with Matt - changed the dynamics. As your relationship with Matt grew, so did the distance between you and Eddie. Matt didn’t like him, his dislike fueled by a few key grievances: he accused Eddie of overcharging for weed, could barely tolerate Eddie’s metal music - and was visibly irritated by the number of times you dragged him to Eddie’s shows. Yet, beneath it all, Matt’s discomfort had a more personal edge. He was convinced there was something more to your friendship, despite your insistence on its platonic nature.

“Okay, sure, whatever you say,” Matt insisted, his tone dripping with frustration. “But I’m telling you, he definitely wants to fuck you.”

Matt’s reasoning included:

• “He never makes you pay for weed.”

⁃ Ah, the classic move of the charming drug dealer - Robin and Steve are also lucky recipients of Eddie's personal stash. Generosity? Sure. A sign of deeper feelings? Unlikely.

• “He flirts with you.”

⁃ Eddie flirts with everyone. This isn’t a private act of seduction - it’s his default setting. And sure, before you dated Matt maybe you’d indulge in Eddie’s flirty nature but it was just all in good fun.

• "He call's you - Baby."

⁃ The nickname was not some romantic gesture, Eddie's just a menace. It all started after a shift at Family Video, you and Robin went back to Steve's house. Eddie made an entrance, a blunt was passed, and you started rambling about the ridiculousness of the name "Baby" in Dirty Dancing. "You know, it's funny you hate it because 'Baby' suits you perfectly," Eddie quipped. You shot him a look of annoyance, but Eddie, with that trademark grin, decided it was a keeper and has called you it ever since.

• “The way he fucking looks at you.”

⁃ This is where the plot thickens. While the other signs are easily explained, you didn't quite see what Matt was ever referring to.

Yet, every time Matt voiced his theories, your mind couldn’t help but drift to thoughts of Eddie in bed. He had quite the reputation as a good fuck and it was undeniable that he was incredibly attractive. But the guilt of entertaining these thoughts, especially while with Matt, was crushing. So, you shoved them aside.

In December of '89, Matt accepted a job that meant relocating out of state. By then, your relationship had lost its spark, of course, except for the one area where it still managed to flicker - the bedroom. You both knew it was time to let go, the idea of a long distance romance wasn't practical when the only thing holding you together required physical proximity you would no longer share.

Despite it being the obvious choice - the end of nearly two years together was tough, but as the saying goes, when one door closes, another opens. With Matt no longer in the picture, your calendar quickly filled with late nights and laughter, surrounded by Robin, Steve, Eddie, and your ever expanding social circle. It was the start of a new era, as you entered the new decade.

"These fatal fantasies / Giving way to labored breath / Taking all of me / We've already done it in my head / If it's make believe / Why does it feel like a vow / We'll both uphold somehow?"

Four months into being single, and the dry spell was becoming a cruel joke. Every date you'd been on had left much to be desired, as none of them ever ended with you on your back. Ultimately a waste of your time.

It was an added frustration to be out with Eddie and watch him glide from one partner to the next with such ease. You even found yourself feeling a bit envious of his conquests, because the more time you began spending with him, the more you understood why Matt had his suspicions.

On quite a few occasions, you caught Eddie's gaze lingering on you. The stolen glances and charged looks sent your heart racing. Gone were the days of pushing these thoughts away. Now, you found yourself indulging in them, late at night, hand between your thighs, wondering if the fantasies might ever become reality.

“Don’t play dumb, I know you fantasize. You could have me on my back every night.”

One night, after having your friends over for dinner, Eddie decided to stay and chill after Robin and Steve had left. He sprawled on your couch, legs draped over the coffee table, grumbling about the monotony of his recent casual encounters and the lack of sexual chemistry he'd been experiencing.

Eddie looked at you, cutting himself off mid rant, his fingers deftly rolling a blunt. "It's cool if I smoke in here, right? Or d'ya want me to go on the balcony?"

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I don't usually love it, but why not for tonight?"

With a grin, Eddie continued on his ranting as he finished rolling. Lighting the blunt and taking a long drag when he finished his complaint.

"Okay, but bad sex is more often than not, still enjoyable," you said, in response to his last comment.

Eddie held out the blunt offering you to take a hit and while normally you’re pretty weary to cross fade, you were feeling adventurous as you grabbed it from his fingers taking a hit.

"I get what you're saying, but nothing's been like, mind-blowing. I was getting head the other day, and I was literally counting the minutes until it was over. I think it would've been more enjoyable if I'd just taken care of myself."

You let out a laugh, the smoke escaping in a light cloud. "You think counting maybe prolonged the experience a bit, bud?" Passing the blunt back to Eddie.

"No, baby, the counting's what got me there." He smirked before taking another hit.

You rolled your eyes playfully, but his words sparked thoughts of your own dissatisfaction.

The two of you sat there listening to the soft sounds of The Cure album you had on, as you took turns with the blunt. Eddie's gaze didn't leave you, his eyes focused on your lips - the movements of your mouth. The subtle way your lips parted and closed around the blunt had him entranced.

You were too lost in your own thoughts to notice his staring. "I think this is one of those grass is greener situations. l'd take the bad sex. There's only so much I can satisfy myself, and sometimes I- well, I just want to get railed." The words slipped out before you could fully think them through but as soon as they did, you felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks.

Eddie's eyes widened slightly, a blush of his own creeping onto his face as he exhaled smoke. "Oh sure." You'd always been open about discussing sex, but this was a new level of candor for you and it caught him by surprise. It also made his cock twitch.

You weren't sure what it was - the alcohol, the pot, the adrenaline from your embarrassment, - but Eddie's complaints mixed with your own dissatisfaction sparked an idea. You set your wine glass down, turned to face him, and criss-crossed your legs on the couch.

Passing what was left of the blunt back, you asked the question that's been on your mind for weeks.

”Eddie… are you attracted to me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

"What?" He asked as he put the blunt out.

"Eddie," you pressed.

He chuckled, the sound a bit shaky. "Everyone thinks you're pretty, you know that."

"That's not what I asked," you countered. "I'm asking if you think I'm like, hot - not just pretty."

A smirk played on Eddie's lips as his eyes scanned over your figure, nodding. “Yeah, you’re hot,” he said, taking a sip of his beer and letting his eyes linger on how the soft fabric of your clothes hugged your chest. Truth be told, he thought you were fucking heaven sent.

"So why haven't you made a move? I've been single for months."

"You know me, baby. No attachments. Couldn't have you falling in love with me."

You scoffed. "Really, that's your excuse?"

His gaze met yours, a touch of defensiveness in his eyes. "It's not an excuse. It's just how I am. I don't hook up with friends, it can get messy."

"Got it," you replied, considering letting it go, but curiosity had taken hold. "Do you ever fantasize about them, though?”

A wry smile appeared on his lips. "Depends on the friend, I guess.”

"Cut the shit, Munson.”

His smile grew. "Alright, yeah. A lot more than I probably should have.”

You leaned in closer, your voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "If it's any consolation, I've fantasized about you a fair bit too.”

"Oh, yeah?" he breathed, his voice huskier than before.

"Mmm-hmm." You shook your head slowly, maintaining eye contact. You noticed the way Eddie's eyes darted down to your lips and then back up to your eyes.

"What about?" he asked.

"I could tell you," you whispered, "or I could show you.”

Eddie's laughter was shaky as he looked away, running his hand through his hair. "Tempting," he whispered, leaning back and trying to create some distance. His arousal, however, was unmistakable.

The room fell silent. You could see the inner conflict in his eyes: the struggle between desire and his self imposed boundaries. The sight of Eddie's hard cock straining against his jeans had your pulse quickening more than the conversation had. You felt yourself growing wet, the heat between your thighs demanding attention.

"So even though it's clear we both want this, you're willing to just let it go because of some vague principle?" you asked, frustration tinging your voice.

Eddie's expression grew serious. "I wouldn't want to complicate our friendship just to get off.”

"And if I promised you it wouldn't complicate anything, that nothing would have to change - it would just be a good time?”

His breath hitched at your words, his eyes soaking in your presence. "Then... maybe I’d rethink some things."

You sighed, acknowledging his hesitation but also feeling the urgency of your own desire whether Eddie joined you or not.

“Well, you think about that,” you said, standing up and heading toward your bedroom. “You’re welcome to join me if you decide you’re in. If you decide to leave, the spare key is by the door. Just lock up and I’ll get it next time.” You closed the door behind you

Eddie sat on the couch contemplating for all of 5 minutes before his decision was made. Of course he wasn't going to let this moment pass him by. He stood up, his mind racing as he walked toward your room.

When Eddie opened the door, he found you lying in bed, bathed in the amber glow of your lamp, only in your panties. You were lost in your own pleasure, hand moving beneath the fabric, eyes closed tight as breathy moans escaped your lips.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered under his breath, his gaze locked on the scene before him. He froze, taking in every detail. The gentle, desperate movements of your fingers, the soft sway of your breasts, and the way your lips formed an O with every soft whimper. He was mesmerized.

He moved closer, cautious not to disrupt the moment. You whispered his name, soft and needy. "Eddie..."

The sound of your voice, so vulnerable and inviting, was nearly enough to push him over the edge. He groaned, a deep, guttural sound that came from the very core of his being. As he stood at the end of the bed, your eyes fluttered open, taking in his presence.

You kept your eyes locked on him, focusing on his face, the way his gaze was fixed on you.

Looking at you like this, made him feel as if he was witnessing the eighth wonder of the world. "What are you thinking of?" Eddie asked, needing to understand what was driving you.

"That this is your hand instead of mine, just like l've been imagining for weeks," you admitted, voice trembling slightly.

Eddie's breath hitched. "Can I see all of you?" he asked, desperation lacing his voice as he sat on the edge of the bed.

You nodded, slowly sliding your panties down your legs and tossing them aside, revealing your glistening cunt. You returned your hand, teasing yourself gently. Eddie's eyes were fixed on you, the sight almost too much for him to bear, a low whimper escaping his lips.

"How would you touch me, if it were your fingers?" you asked, voice a seductive whisper.

Eddie slid up from his spot on the edge of the bed, closer to your side, as he began directing you on how he would pleasure you, eyes glued to your movements. "I'd start by gently tracing my fingers, just like you are now."

You whimpered as he continued his instructions, caught between the fantasy he was describing and the reality of your own touch. His guidance was driving you wild, but the need for his direct touch was growing unbearable. Breathlessly, you said, "Eddie, please."

“Tell me what you need,” he rasped, his eyes locked on yours.

“Touch me,” you pleaded.

Eddie knew what you meant; you wanted him to replace your fingers - but he needed to kiss you and at the vague request for his touch he couldn't help but use that as his cue. He leaned in, his body hovering over yours, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was rough, and raw as if years of restrained longing were unleashed in that heated moment. His lips were demanding, his tongue wrestled with yours, the taste of beer mixing with moscato. You bit his lip and Eddie’s groan was deep.

His free hand found its way to your thigh, gripping it tightly, driving you further into your own touch. The intensity of his actions only heightened your pleasure. You gasped into his mouth as your climax hit. Eddie’s grip on your thigh never letting up as you clung to him, struggling to steady yourself through your orgasm.

As the waves began to subside, you whispered raggedly, “I need you.”

Eddie trailed his hand from your thigh to your cunt, only for you to stop his hand. “No. I need more, I need you inside of me. Now.”

Eddie groaned at your desperate plea for him to fill you. Without a word, he began undressing. His breathing was labored as he quickly removed his shirt, tossing it aside. He fumbled with his jeans, eager and clumsy in his haste to free his hard cock. When he finally did, you let out an audible gasp, taking in the sight of him. He was so fucking perfect.

“How do you want it, baby?” He asked, eager to give you anything you’d ask for.

“What have you fantasized about?”

Eddie hesitated, “We don’t have to -”

“Tell me,” you demanded.

“You, um, you’ve got great tits,” he all about moaned. “I think about you riding me a lot.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before you pushed him back to lean against the pillows, a sly smile on your lips. You reached for a condom from the nightstand, tearing open the wrapper with a quick, practiced motion, and rolled it over his throbbing cock. Eddie’s eyes followed your every move, sighing at your touch.

With a deep, steadying breath, you positioned yourself above him. Your hands rested on the headboard while his hands gripped your thighs, his fingers digging in as he watched you. Slowly, you began to lower yourself, the initial contact making both of you gasp. The incredible stretch of his cock stung as you lowered yourself down inch by inch. It was almost overwhelming, but so perfectly pleasurable. Eddie’s eyes widened, his breath coming in quick, ragged bursts.

“Fuck,” he said through gritted teeth. His hands tightened on your thighs, reminding you just how much he wants this.

You continued to sink down, savoring the sensation of being filled. Once fully seated, you paused to adjust, getting accustomed to his size. Eddie wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but by no means was he small. Close to 7 inches if you had to guess. He was however, the thickest not by an absurd amount but enough to notice the difference. He felt phenomenal.

You began to move, lifting yourself slightly before sinking back down. The room began filling with the sound of your mingled moans. As you established a steady rhythm, Eddie’s moans grew more frequent, his grip sure to leave bruises. “Fuuuuuck,” he repeated, his voice rough with pleasure.

You shifted from leaning forward to putting your full weight on him, arching your back slightly as you moved your hands from the headboard to behind you, resting them on his thighs. In this position, you had better control and began to increase your pace.

“Aghh - just like that,” Eddie groaned. “Show me how much you want it." Eddie’s eyes were locked on you, taking in every detail - the bounce of your breasts, the flush on your cheeks, the intense pleasure on your face. You looked stunning.

He moved his hands to your breasts, groaning as he squeezed them gently. He adjusted himself so he was sitting up, his hands moving to roam over the rest of your body as he began kissing your skin. He started at your collarbone and moved along your chest until he reached your left breast. Kissing and nipping at the soft skin before enveloping your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. You shuddered at the added stimulation, moving to rest your hands on his shoulder for better stability as he moved his mouth to your right nipple.

You were finding it hard to keep quiet, biting your lip to stifle your moans as the combination of his mouth and the fullness of his cock drove you closer to ecstasy.

Eddie, however, was having none of that. Removing his mouth from you chest, “Don’t hold back," he rasped. "Let the whole fucking building know how good it feels to have my cock inside you.”

You let yourself moan freely, the sounds echoing in the room as you quickened your pace.

"Ooooohhh god,” you cried out as your orgasm began to build.

You swirled your hips, adding a tantalizing motion that made Eddie mumble curses of pleasure. His hands moved to your hips, gripping firmly as he reclined against the pillows. You leaned forward with him, placing your arms on his chest for support as you rode him with increased intensity.

“Such a good girl,” Eddie said in awe, his eyes locked on you as you chased your orgasm. The praise spurred you on, and you let out a loud cry. Eddie’s lips curled into a wry smile as he watched you, clearly enjoying the effect his words had on you.

“You like that, huh?” he teased, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

You whimpered a feeble “yes,” your voice barely audible as you tried to keep up with the intense pleasure.

“Thought you might,” he chuckled. “Be the good girl that you are and cum for me,” Eddie instructed.

That was all it took. Your hips began to falter as your orgasm ripped through you, sending your body into a shuddering climax. Eddie’s groans of satisfaction grew louder as he watched you come undone on top of him. He gripped your hips tightly, taking over control and thrusting into you with a fierce rhythm, pushing you seamlessly into another orgasm.

As you came down, your body collapsed against Eddie's, still trembling from the aftermath of your third orgasm. Tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, the intensity of the pleasure overwhelming you. Eddie, sensing your exhaustion, slowed his thrusts, his hands gently tangling in your hair as he lifted your face to look at him.

“Shit Eds” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know if I can come again.”

Eddie’s lips curled into a mischievous smile, his eyes gleaming with determination. “Sure you can, baby. You haven’t even gotten what you wanted yet,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before repositioning you both.

The sudden loss of him inside you made you whimper, the emptiness leaving you desperate to be filled again. Eddie lifted you, placing you on your knees, and then knelt behind you. His hands took hold of your hips, and he lined himself up with your entrance before thrusting into you with a forceful, deep motion. The immediate fullness made you moan, the new position allowing him to penetrate you more deeply and hit your g-spot perfectly with every thrust.

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you cried out, your voice raw with pleasure as he continued to thrust into you with a relentless rhythm.

“This is what you wanted, right baby? To get railed?” Eddie asked, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper. His hands squeezed the flesh of your ass as he drove into you.

“Yes!” you cried out. “Please Eddie, harder,” tears streaming down your face. He responded by pounding into you just as you asked.

Leaning forward, Eddie kissed the skin along your back, his teeth grazing your flesh with gentle bites, adding another layer of sensation. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly, knuckles white from the strain, as desperate cries of pleasure fell from your lips. His left hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding your clit and rubbing it frantically.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned, your voice trembling with need. Eddie’s fingers worked your clit with determined precision, the added stimulation making it clear you were about to lose it.

As the pleasure built to its peak, you screamed his name, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came. Eddie’s grip on you tightened, his thrusts never faltering as he felt you clenching around him.

“There it is,” he moaned, his voice filled with satisfaction as he felt you coming undone. Your mascara ran down your cheeks in streaks, merging with your tears as you reached the height of your pleasure. Eddie continued to pound into you as your orgasm subsided, savoring the way you responded to him.

He was relentless, driven by his own need to reach his climax. He removed his hand from your clit, gripping your hips firmly as he thrusted into you with increased force. “I want you to cum with me,” he growled.

You cried out, your voice filled with desperation. "I-I ahhh..." Your words were swallowed by your moans as Eddie kept thrusting.

"You can do it," he encouraged, his voice low and steady. "I know you can."

Eddie's thrusts grew more intense, his rhythm never faltering as he drove you toward another climax. His hands gripped your hips tighter, his own breath coming in ragged bursts as he neared his release.

"Atta girl," Eddie growled. His thrusts grew sloppy, driven by the raw intensity of the moment. You clenched around him, surrendering to the pleasure as euphoria washed over you. The sensation was all -consuming, a final, powerful climax that left you gasping.

Eddie's own climax hit hard. He let out a string of moans, his body shuddering as it hit. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your ass tightening as he rode out his release.

Eddie collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow. The intensity of the night had left you feeling dizzy and euphoric, your body still tingling from multiple orgasms - five mind blowing orgasms, to be exact. The most you’d ever had with a partner before was three - and while still sensational it was nothing compared to this. Making it clear that Eddie Munson was the best fuck you’ve ever had.

As you started to come down, you glanced over at Eddie. He was staring at the ceiling, his face a mix of disbelief and deep thought. "Eddie, what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

"Can I level with you?" he asked, his voice serious.

"Of course," you replied.

"It's pretty obvious that what we just had was too good to be a one-off," he said, his eyes meeting yours. "And it's not going to be easy to just go back like this never happened. I mean, I can't just pretend I don't know you've got a praise kink." He teased.

"Eddie!" You laughed, giving him a playful nudge.

"I'm only half kidding. I clocked that shit when I tried to teach you guitar, this just confirmed it," he admitted with a grin.

You rolled your eyes, a smirk on your lips. “So, what's your point?"

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow and looking at you seriously. “If you can handle keeping it casual, I think we should do this again.”

“Fucking hell, Munson didn't we address this on the couch? I wanted to fuck you, I'm not in love."

Eddie laughed. “Right, I know. But sometimes it can lead to that, and I just want to make sure you understand if we continue to hook up it will never be anything but physical. I can never offer you more, is that clear?"

You grinned. “Crystal."

"So, friends with benefits?” He asked.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as your eyes locked with his.

"It's a Sexually Explicit Kind of Love Affair"

Two months had passed since you and Eddie established your friends-with-benefits arrangement, and you had both adhered to a set of rules: open communication, no exclusivity, and keeping things private. Your frequent hookups had become a thrilling part of your routine, each encounter more intense than the last, and quite a few that were unforgettable.

Fucked You in the Bathroom When We Went to Dinner: The two of you went to dinner with your friends to celebrate Vicky’s birthday. Amid the celebrations, you and Eddie shared knowing glances across the table and when the opportunity arose, you both slipped away, heading towards the restaurant's bathroom.

As soon as the door closed behind you, Eddie's hands were on you, pulling you close. He pressed your back against the wall, as his lips found yours in a rough kiss. His mouth began trailing along your jaw as you you reached down to unbuckle his belt. Eddie's pants were down around his knees, his hands hiking your dress up, growling when he saw you had no panties on. You lifted your leg, resting it on the sink, back still pressed to the wall as Eddie wasted no time before guiding himself into you. Your hands immediately threading through his hair as he sunk in.

Eddie's thrusts were urgent and desperate. "Fuck, can’t get enough of you," Eddie gasped, his breath hot against your neck.

You could only respond with a series of breathless moans. The pleasure building rapidly as Eddie's movements grew more intense. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he drove into you.

Your climax was approaching quickly, and you couldn't help but let out shrieks of pleasure. Eddie's hand reluctantly coming to cover your mouth to stifle the sounds. He loved hearing you, but not here.

“Shh, baby. I know." He whispered feeling you beginning to clench around him. You bit the palm of his hand to stop the scream that was desperate to escape you as your climax hit. His thrusts growing erratic as he came with you, burying his face in your neck, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

As you both caught your breath, you quickly adjusted your clothes, and you fixed Eddie's hair. You walked out first heading back to the table. Eddie arrived a few minutes later, drink in his hand as if he had been at bar the whole time, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he sat down.

Knee Deep in the Passenger Seat: It'd been a lively evening out at the bar playing pool with Chrissy, Eddie and his bandmates. You were keenly aware of the effect your outfit was having on Eddie as you'd chosen a particularly short skirt that barely covered your lacy black panties if you moved too much. So each time you bent over to take a shot, your underwear was tantalizingly visible.

As you lined up for another shot, Eddie approached, leaning in close. To any onlookers it would seem like he was giving you a tip to make your shot. "You're such a fucking tease," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You turned your head slightly, catching his eye with a sly grin. "I know, but you love it," you whispered back.

Eddie's gaze was fixed on you as he walked back to his spot against the wall. As you knelt over the table to take your shot, a smirk tugged at your lips knowing he was clearly struggling to focus on anything other than the view you were providing.

If Eddie could have had his way, he would have sunk to his knees right there and ate you out while you were bent over that pool table. But patience is a virtue.

As you turned to face him after landing your shot, you knew he was trying to maintain his composure.

When it was time to leave, Eddie offered to take you home. "Chris, I’ve got her. I pass her apartment on my way home anyway.” While that was true, you knew that wasn't his plan.

As you walked out, Eddie's eyes never left you, his gaze focused on the way your hips swayed with each step. When you reached the van, he opened the passenger door for you and you slid into the seat, feeling his intense gaze on you.

As you settled in your seat, you looked at Eddie who was still standing next to you. A sly grin pulling at his lips, as he stepped in. You were confused until he knelt down on the floor in front of you, shutting the door. His expression one of eagerness.

With his hands now gripping your thighs, he pushed your skirt up, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I've been wanting to taste you all fucking night," he hummed, his voice low and filled with need.

You looked down at him, a teasing smirk on your lips. "Aw look at you, did I tease you so much that you can't even wait?"

Eddie’s big doe eyes, looked a lot less innocent in this position, darkening at your words. Hunger written all over his face.

In an instant he pulled your panties to the side, leaning forward so his head was nestled between your thighs. His tongue making contact with your bare slit, with a tantalizing slow lick. You gasped at the feeling. Eddie moaned against your pussy, "You taste so goddamn good,” his voice vibrating through your core.

The moment his tongue touched your clit, he was relentless, alternating between licking and sucking. Your eyes rolling in the back of your head as he savored you.

Within just a few short minutes you were a moaning mess, hands tangled in his hair, breath ragged, eyes screwed tight as you could feel yourself on the brink of your orgasm. Then suddenly, Eddie pulled away. Your release immediately ripped away from you.

His face flushed and glistening with your essence, looked up at you with a smirk. “Look at that, I can be just as much of a tease as you," he rasped.

You whined at the loss of contact. "Please, Eddie.”

“You’ll have to wait, baby.” He said, readjusting your underwear and skirt, wiping his mouth as he dipped out of the van and walked to the drivers side.

Truth be told, this was just as upsetting for him as it was for you. You were intoxicating and if he was being honest he’d love nothing more than to continue to devour your sweet cunt until you came all over his tongue - multiple times. But he thought it only fair that you feel the same strain that he had all night. He’d make it worth the wait when he got you to his trailer.

You're on your knees, I'm on the case: You had the day off, so what better way than to spend it in Eddie's bed. When you arrived at his trailer, he answered the door shirtless, wearing only boxers with a towel draped over his shoulder.

"I'm about to shower," Eddie said, ushering you inside and closing the door behind you. "I'll be out soon. Feel free to watch TV, the remote's on the table."

As Eddie went to shower, you settled on his couch, finishing up the episode of Seinfeld that was on. After about ten minutes, you began to get restless.

You could hear the shower running, steam cascading into the hall because Eddie didn't shut the door completely. You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door to let him know you were there as you walked in.

"Be out in a second, just gotta rinse my hair."

"Mind if I join ya instead?"

There was a brief pause before he responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure, come on in."

You quickly undressed and slipped into the shower the steam enveloping you. You were facing Eddie as the water was cascading down his hair. Some droplets hitting your body, as Eddie glanced over you with a grin.

You gave him a playful smirk before immediately dropping to your knees, positioning yourself in front of his hardening cock. Eddie's eyes locked onto you, filled with anticipation.

Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, the warmth of the water mingling with the heat of your breath. Eddie's response was immediate. His breath hitched, at the feeling. "Ahhh," he grunted, his voice thick with pleasure.

You began to move, sliding your lips up and down his length with practiced ease. Eddie's hands gripped the shower bar for support, his fingers tightening as he struggled to maintain his composure.

"Holy Shit," he gasped, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so good, that feels so fucking good."

You continued your rhythm, your mouth and tongue working him expertly. Eddie's groans grew louder, the pleasure clearly overwhelming him. "Oh god, yes," he panted, his hips thrusting gently to match your movements.

The water continued to cascade around you both, mingling with the sounds of Eddie's pleasure as you pushed him closer to the edge. "Don't stop, baby" he urged, his voice breaking. "I'm gonna cum."

With a final, deep stroke, Eddie came hard. You kept your mouth on him, sucking every drop as he moaned and gasped, his hands gripping the shower wall for dear life bracing himself.

His face was flushed, a mix of steam and sweat glistening on his skin. He looked down at you with awe and satisfaction. "You're fucking amazing," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

You stood up, and Eddie cupped your face, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. As your mouths moved together ,his cock began hardening again, ready for round two in his room.

"I know, "Baby, No Attachment!"

As the months passed the frequency of your encounters with Eddie had evolved beyond merely getting off. At first you considered that it was just your friendship deepening, but as time went on, you couldn't help but feel that these interactions between you were teetering the line of something more.

Eddie's band practices had effortlessly blended into your weekly routine. “Want to come to practice again?” he’d ask, flashing a grin. The first time he invited you, you joked about whether he had a fantasy of hooking up in Gareth’s garage or something. Eddie only laughed and said, “Nah, I just figured you might enjoy hearing us play and I thought it’d be nice to have you there.” Of course you went, and enjoyed every second of it, maybe even more than the shows. Seeing Eddie perform offstage, goof around with his bandmates, and brainstorm new arrangements was incredibly fun to witness.

By the third week into attending practice, Eddie offered another invitation. “Want to come with me to visit Wayne this Sunday?” he asked one afternoon. You hadn’t seen Wayne since he left Eddie the trailer, and although the invite surprised you, you agreed. Wayne’s warm hospitality was a delight, and seeing Eddie with his uncle gave you a new insight into his life - it felt special he shared it with you.

You began noticing more changes in your own habits. Instead of going to social events alone, you often opted to ride with Eddie. Your weekend hookups had bloomed into near everyday occurrences, leading you to spend a lot more time at his trailer, as it offered much more privacy than your apartment - Eddie and you were rather loud. Eddie's loud anyway, but when he's inside you he doesn't shut up. Always talking you through it, telling you how good you're making him feel and he loves hearing what he does to you, so you never hold back.

On more than a few occasions you’d accidentally fallen asleep over there, and eventually Eddie just began inviting you to stay the night in the first place. Gradually, your personal items like a toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, and your favorite books made their way over. You were there so often that it was shifting from a convenient arrangement to something that felt more like a shared space.

The boundaries you’d set were being tested, and it was becoming harder to maintain the pretense that this was purely physical. The line between attraction and emotional connection was blurring, and although Eddie had always insisted that this arrangement was meant to stay casual, his actions seemed to contradict that. In those soft moments with him, at practice or Wayne's, or when you were lying in his bed wrapped up in his arms after another incredible fuck, you found yourself dreaming of more and every time you did you'd think back to Matt's insistence that there was something between you and Eddie. Back then you thought it was Matt's jealously, eventually giving way that it was underlying attraction but now like this you can't help but think maybe there has always been more simmering between you both.

You didn't dare say it though, you wanted to remain the “chill girl” who didn’t push. But the more time that passed the more you felt caught between holding your tongue and addressing the growing complexity of the situation.

"It's fine, it's cool, you can say that we're nothing but you know the truth."

The summer heat was beginning to wane as you and Eddie arrived at Steve’s Labor Day party.

You were enjoying yourself, chatting with Nancy when you overheard a conversation nearby. Eddie was talking to Chrissy, who had just referred to you and he as a couple.

“Oh, no, we’re not together,” Eddie said, a dismissive edge in his voice as he responded. The words hit you like a slap. You knew what you had signed up for, but it still stung, especially when the lines had been blurring for months.

You attempted to shake it off, focusing on the friends around you. However, as the evening wore on, the frustration you felt was hard to ignore. Eddie’s behavior had been increasingly confusing. And this comment felt like the final straw - if your friends could see it, why couldn't he?

When the party ended, Eddie drove you back to his trailer with Metallica blasting through the speakers. The music did little to ease the anger you were feeling.

Once inside the trailer, Eddie reached out his hands gripping your waist, as his lips found yours. The kiss felt good, almost intoxicating, but your anger quickly reclaimed its hold as the words "we're not together" echoed in your mind.

You pulled back, needing a moment to regain your composure. Eddie’s eyes searched yours, confusion in his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly.

"I'm not really feeling it right now,” you said firmly, pulling away from his touch. "I think I'm going to head home actually."

Eddie’s face fell for a moment before a small smile played at his lips. "You don't need to go, stay the night. We can watch a movie."

A few months ago, this invitation would have felt like a friendly gesture. After all, the beauty of a ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement is that it starts with a foundation of friendship. But tonight it was just a bitter reminder of how these nights have morphed into something much more complex. At the start of your arrangement, movie nights often transitioned from watching the film to fucking until the credits rolled. This felt natural, expected. But now the dynamic of movie nights has grown significantly more intimate; cuddling on the couch, Eddie softly playing with your hair, and gentle kisses between scenes. All gestures that are only typical in, well - relationships. You've had enough.

"Eddie, are you being avoidant or are you truly oblivious to what's going on?"

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Us. This," you said, gesturing between the two of you. "It feels different, and it has for a while now." You took a deep breath, struggling to steady your voice. "Eddie, even our friends notice it."

"This is about Chrissy's comment?" he asked, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"You were so quick to dismiss it."

"We're not a couple, so that probably has something to do with it," he said, with a laugh, his irritation evident. "What was I supposed to say?"

You gave him a short nod, as you began to gather your things. "It's not even about what you said, it's about what you're not saying."

The frustration was evident on Eddie's face. "I thought we were both on the same page about this," he said, following you.

"Dammit, Eddie," you turned towards him, your voice rising. "We were, but it’s hard to feel like we’re still casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser!"

Eddie’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face, but he still held his ground. "From the start, I told you I don’t do relationships. I never promised you anything more than what we agreed on."

You scoffed. “I know, and that’s exactly why I’ve kept my mouth shut for so long. But you’ve pulled me into every aspect of your life, and it’s not the same anymore. If you weren’t so hung up on that concept, maybe you’d admit what you’re feeling.”

“Don’t," he said sternly. "Don't try and make me out to be the bad guy because you couldn't keep your own feelings in check.”

His words felt like a punch in your gut. You could feel the lump take perch in throat, trying to swallow it back but the tears were coming.

Eddie’s expression softened as he noticed your your eyes glistening. He watched helplessly as you continued to pack, his frustration morphing into anguish as tears streamed down your face. "Wait,” he pleaded. "Let's talk, we can take a step back."

Your hands shook as you stuffed your clothes into your bag, sobs coming in ragged, painful gasps. “A step? We'd have to take twenty." you choked out, your voice breaking.

Eddie looked away, struggling to reconcile your pain with his own fears. "I just, I'm sorry I confused you. I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea."

"Maybe you didn't intend for things to change, but they did. We both let them. I did because I liked it, why did you Eddie?"

His stomach twisted at your words.

“Every rule we set, you broke," you continued, bitterness lacing your voice. "It was all ‘let’s keep it discreet’ until you kissed me between songs at practice. What the fuck was that?! ‘We need open communication,’ but you never talked about any line we crossed." Your voice rose despite your sobs. "For fucks's sake Eddie, we haven't been exclusive yet for six months, you’ve called after me! Going as far as turning down others because you want me in your bed. Whether we fuck or we don't."

Eddie stood still, motionless, as the weight of your words sunk in.

"You can try to downplay this all you want, but deep down you know. And it's why your past hookups could never satisfy you the way I do.” Tears streamed down your face as you glared at Eddie.

He just stood there, hit with the reality of your words. The silence grew heavy as he struggled to find a response.

"I don't know what you want me to say. I can’t just flip a switch and become something I’m not. I made my stance clear from the beginning." His voice wavering as he spoke.

You shook your head in disappointment. "Got it." Your tears fell harder, and Eddie’s own eyes were on the verge of tears as he watched you zip up your bag.

“Baby,” he started, his voice trembling as he reached out a hand towards you.

“Don’t, Eddie,” you scolded, your voice a harsh whisper. “You don't wanna call it love, fine. But it's done."

Eddie’s face twisted in confusion and frustration as you finished speaking. He seemed to get only a fraction of what you were saying. "Okay, okay," he said, his voice cracking with desperation. "We'll just go back to how it was before. I mean, we can just forget about all this..."

"You're not getting it, Eds" you replied, your voice steady despite the tears. "I can’t be your friend.”

Eddie’s face contorted with panic. "No, don’t say that," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I’m sorry I led you on. We can go back - just like it was. We can fix this." Tears welling up as he tries to grasp what you're saying.

"Eddie, it wasn't just that. This whole thing between us has made me realize that maybe… maybe I had feelings for you long before we hooked up."

Eddie's face pales, his panic escalating as he tries to comprehend what you're saying. "What the fuck is happening right now?" he says, his voice rising in distress. He collapses onto the couch, his body shaking as the gravity of the situation hits him full force.

"Before we, before this, you said you didn't," he mutters, almost to himself, as he tries to reconcile your words with his memories.

"I didn’t realize it then," you admit, your voice breaking.

Eddie’s face was wet with his own tears now, his hands trembling as he held his face, taking in your words.

"I never would’ve let anyone else call me a nickname I hated. Anyone else’s persistence would’ve been stopped but it just sounded so pretty coming from your mouth..." Your voice was choked with emotion. “And I think being honest with myself about that, along with everything we’ve been doing... I've realized that maybe I was being a fool to think it was ever just attraction."

Eddie breaks down, his tears flowing freely. "Goddammit" he chokes out, his voice thick with regret. “I can't-"

You cut him off knowing what he was going to say. "I know Eds, you've made it clear," your voiced cracked sobs breaking through the words. "You were right to worry this would get messy, I'm sorry I told you I could handle it." You took a deep breath and looked at him one last time, the ache in your chest almost unbearable. You slung your bag over your shoulder, heading for the door. "I'd probably do it again though." You whispered.

"I don't want to lose you,” he said, his voice wavering as he tried to hold back his emotions.

You paused, your heart aching with the weight of his words. "I have to go," you said finally. With one final glance at Eddie, you turned and walked out of the trailer.

“You just need a better life than this / You need somethin' I can never give”

Eddie’s tears fell uncontrollably as you left. Watching you walk away was like a rift tearing through time and space, an unbearable ache that pierced his soul.

His mind spiraled in a loop, like a broken record that kept repeating the same line: It was a mistake. He knew better, he knew better than to get involved with you, but he had, and now you were gone. Eddie had wanted to believe that you could handle something casual, he risked it because he had an insatiable hunger that only you had satiated. His own denial ran so deep he hadn’t even fully accepted the magnitude of what was happening between the two of you until your words hit him like a freight train tonight. But as Eddie sat there, drenched in regret, his mind wandered to all things you.

Eddie had always been branded the freak for being a little outside the box, and while he stayed true to himself it was always a bit toned down when he met new people. However when he met you, he knew he didn't have to do that. While you could fit neatly into the box, you didn't care to. Eddie was instantly captivated by you, and it wasn't just because you were stunning - it was your wit, and charm that pulled him in.

He could never forget the first day he realized he wanted to kiss you. It was one of the early times you hung out - that night you were complaining about "Dirty Dancing." You just kept rambling - so comically irritated, he found it hilarious and he wanted to just shut you up with his lips. He couldn't help himself coining, "Baby" for you. It had felt right rolling off his tongue, and even though you shot him an annoyed look, he could’ve sworn he saw a hint of a smile. Eddie then proceeded to try and get you to reenact the lift scene from the movie, but you refused with a firm “Fuck no, Munson.” Robin wouldn't either, but Steve, high as a kite, agreed. Of course it ended with them flat on the floor and the four of you laughing your asses off. For whatever reason that night marked a turning point for your friendship - the two of you began spending time together outside of your shared circle. It was always a little touchy, a little flirty and Eddie was constantly having to push the urge to kiss you outside of his mind.

Steve was always trying to persuade Eddie to just go for it, but Eddie wasn’t interested. He typically only hooked up with the same person three times - if ever more than once. He feared that if he ever got involved with you he wouldn’t be able to go back, and commitment was something he wasn't into. Fast forward three years and nothing's changed. Still, one night around two years ago he nearly let his guard down.

A group of you had gathered at a nearby bar before Corroded Coffin’s first paid show at The Hideout.

“Let me buy a round for you guys, a little liquid courage before tonight!" you insisted. Gareth joked that it wasn't necessary when they had Eddie's good luck charm - You. “Is that why you keep me around, Munson?” you teased, planting a playful kiss on his cheek. “For a little extra luck,” you said with a wink and a smile before heading to the bar. In that moment, Eddie was certain he had to kiss you.

When you returned with a round of tequila shots, your cheeks flushed and your smile bright, you explained that the handsome guy at the bar; Matt - asked you out and then proceeded to buy the round of shots for you when you'd said yes.

As Jeff raised his shot and toasted, "To Matt!" Eddie looked at you, realizing that it was better this way. It would have been foolish to kiss you. You deserved someone who could offer you more.

Eddie’s mind whirled, jumping from that almost kiss to the fateful night on your couch. He should've went home because from that moment everything changed. You were sensational, the way your body responded to him, the way you sounded, the way you made him feel. He was right to know himself, that after a taste, he would never want to go without. He was selfish for this.

The past 6 months together Eddie had recognized little shifts, but he'd ignored them. Looking back it was probably June when things first began to change from the raw thrill of a good time to something that hinted at a little more intimacy. Your presence had turned his bed into a sacred oasis, where he felt truly seen and understood. The laughter, the warmth, the touch - it was all part of a connection he cherished. Yet, every time it felt like it was too much, he would push it out his head, trying to drown out the truth that he felt something more. Even if he wanted to risk all for you, he couldn’t. He wasn’t good enough to make you his.

This painful realization was a truth he had to face. His fear of inadequacy and his belief that he couldn’t sustain a meaningful relationship had driven a wedge between you. And now, with you gone, he was left grappling with the reality that he had pushed away the one person who had made him question his own defenses. Sitting on his couch, a headache pounding from his tears, he tried to sleep, searching for some sort of peace.

In the weeks that followed, Eddie rarely visited his bedroom. It was a space tainted by your absence. His home felt hollow, so he picked up extra shifts at the diner, and crashed at Gareth’s when he could. He thought about reaching out to you, admitting you were right, that he loved you too, but he knew it wouldn’t change a fucking thing. He still couldn’t give you what you wanted. He wasn’t ready for a relationship, not when he didn’t believe he was enough.

You deserved the best, and Eddie didn’t think he was that. He was still a pot dealer, bussing tables to make ends meet and for some free food, just dreaming of a future with his band...

Eddie had been so absorbed in the band that he had drifted from the usual social circle. The only time he’d seen Steve and Robin since your departure was after one of his show the last weekend in September. They had approached him, and Eddie, looking weary and regretful, had apologized for not being around much. He wanted desperately to ask about you - God, he did - but he struggled to find the right words.

When Steve and Robin happened to mention they hadn’t heard from you either, Eddie’s heart sank. You were probably avoiding them, likely to keep from running into him. Steve, with a knowing look, asked if the two of you had gotten involved. Eddie gave a brief, vague answer that painted a picture of your arrangement without exposing too much.

“Maybe try reaching out to her though.” He suggested.

Robin nodded solemnly. “Of course,” she replied, understanding the complexity of the situation without needing more.

The days blurred into weeks as Eddie threw himself into his band, trying to escape the gnawing emptiness and the haunting memory of you. Each gig was an escape, but it never lasted. The real struggle was coming home to an empty space, a home without the one person who had made everything feel right.

“Back when we were still changin' for the better / Wanting was enough / For me, it was enough"

It was the kind of night that makes you want to crawl into bed and pull the covers over your head, except you weren’t in bed. You were behind the wheel of your car, heading home after leaving the man that you loved.

As the tears flowed freely, your mind drifted to the most serious relationships you’d had. Your college boyfriend, your relationship with Matt - both seemed like mere practice compared to what you shared with Eddie. He wasn’t just the best fuck you’d ever had, he was the best person you’d ever known. The thought of never being around him again was agonizing.

Returning to your apartment felt like a warm welcome from an old friend. You had spent nearly all of August entwined in Eddie’s bedsheets, living for the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together. You uncorked a fresh bottle of Riesling, not even bothering with a glass as you tried to drown out the fact that Eddie was never truly yours.

Weeks after leaving Eddie, the silence was deafening. The ache of not hearing from him, of not knowing how he was, ate at you incessantly. You knew that this was your choice, yet you'd expected some sign - any sign - that he was still there, still thinking of you.

You threw yourself into work, hoping that staying busy would numb the pain. But this came at a price - you isolated yourself from your friends, avoided their calls, and shut yourself off from the world that might remind you of Eddie. When Robin buzzed your intercom one evening, her arrival was a welcome disruption to your self-imposed exile. She stood at your door with pizza and ice cream in hand, a silent understanding in her eyes.

"Hey," she said softly, a warm smile breaking through her concern. "I thought you could use some company."

You invited her in, your heart heavy as you tried to muster a smile. You sat in your living room, as you finally let your emotions spill out.

Between sobs, you managed to ask, "How is he?"

Robin took a deep breath, clearly choosing her words carefully. "He hasn't been around either, but Steve and I saw him last weekend, he's been busy with the band. They're doing really well - they’re working hard to catch the eye of an A&R rep to help develop them. When we told him we hadn’t heard from you, he briefly explained why that might be, and not that I wouldn't have anyway - but he was one that suggested this."

He had thought of you. That was enough to make you break down again. Robin wrapped her arms around you.

“It’s okay," she whispered.

Robin comforted you the rest of the night. Reassuring you that in time it will get better. As Robin was on her way out you told her that while you missed everyone it was just too hard right now, and you needed more time.

She nodded, understanding. "We’ll be here whenever you’re ready."

As she left, you felt hope amidst the sadness. But even with that hope, you found it difficult to move forward. You almost mustered the courage to attend Jonathan and Nancy’s Halloween party, but after getting dressed, you couldn’t bring yourself to go. A week later, you had plans for lunch with Steve and Chrissy but the nausea of confronting your emotions kept you from following through. It was still too soon to be around the people who reminded you of Eddie, so you stayed away, in your cocoon of sorrow, hoping that someday the pain would ease enough to allow you to step back into your life.

“And from the outside / It looks like you're tryin' lives on / I miss the old ways / You didn't have to change/ But I guess I don't have a say / Now that we don't talk"

It was the second week of November, and you’d decided to go out for drinks with some colleagues. You were at a bar you’d never been to before, located on the other side of town - quite far from the usual spots you and your friends frequented. With the slim chance of running into anyone you knew, you let your guard down and enjoyed the evening.

You were so engrossed in your conversation that you almost missed it. At first, you thought you’d imagined it, but then you heard it again. Your stomach dropped, and a wave of heat washed over you as you recognized Eddie’s unmistakable voice. Looking around, it was Gareth you spotted first, and as you looked for Eddie, your heart sank. He looked drastically different - his once long hair was now a buzz cut, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, while dressed in a navy striped button-down. His signature leather jacket draped over the back of his chair the only remnant of the man you remembered.

Despite your attempts to refocus on your colleagues, your attention kept drifting back to Eddie and the band. They were celebrating with a round of shots, and you wondered if they were marking a milestone. Since the round of drinks you’d suggested for their first paid gig, you knew they had a tradition of celebrating this way. Your heart sank as you overheard Eddie’s toast: the local station had agreed to start playing their music, and they were promised a small tour around neighboring states in the new year.

Watching the band’s journey over the past three years - early gigs at house shows to paid gigs at dive bars - you knew you had to say something, not just to Eddie but to all of them. You were proud of their progress, and after witnessing their hard work at countless practices this year, it felt right to acknowledge their accomplishments. You couldn't deny that it almost felt kismet, that you were here tonight.

As your coworkers began wrapping up their night, you excused yourself. You made your way over to the band’s table, your heart racing. As you approached their table, Gareth’s eyes lit up as he saw you.

“Well, look who it is!” Gareth exclaimed.

Eddie turned, his smile dropped as he took in your presence.

“Of all the gin joints, you walk into the one I’m in?” you joked, attempting to ease the awkwardness. The band chuckled, and you continued, “I couldn’t help but overhear you guys. I just wanted to come over and say congratulations. I know how hard you’ve all worked.”

The band echoed their gratitude before Gareth suggested you join them. A sudden, overwhelming discomfort gripped you. This was a mistake. Every lingering feeling you had for Eddie was rushing back, and you found yourself struggling to maintain composure. "Oh thank you, but I need to get home” you say, attempting to mask the unease. “But I’m really happy for you all.”

As you start to walk away, Eddie rose from his seat. “Baby, wait" he called out.

There it was, the nickname only he called you. The one you'd been aching to hear.

You stopped, turning slightly to face him as he reached you. "I um, just wanted to say, thanks for that. I really appreciated you coming to to the table.”

"Of course." you say softly.

His eyes roam over your figure as he takes in the way your dress fits, and a low, almost involuntary groan escapes him. “Wow, that dress, you.. you look incredible."

You give him a thankful nod. It hurt you to hear him say that, knowing you'd bought this dress months ago solely with the intention of him taking it off.

"Me? Look at you, you look so.... I don't know. Refined, maybe?"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Is that good or…?”

"Oh y'know you always look good," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "But I’d be lying if said the hair didn’t shock me a bit at first,” you admit.

Eddie’s eyes soften, and he responds with a chuckle. “It’s weird for me, still. I haven’t had a buzz cut since middle school. But I just needed... a change.” His words hit you harder than expected, and you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

You nod, unable to hide your emotion.

He smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness. “I want you to know I thought about reaching out but I wasn't sure...." he trailed off.

You nodded again, acknowledging the sentiment, a small smile on your lips as you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat. “I really should go, but I am truly so proud of you, Eddie,” you said, your voice wavering. “Ever since I met you, I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for what you want and I'm so happy that it's paying off."

The words seemed to break something in him. Instinctively he reached out, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. “I’ve missed you,” he breathed into your hair.

You hugged him tightly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, feeling the warmth and comfort of his embrace. For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, and you wished you could stay there forever. But as much as you wanted to linger, you knew you had to go. You slowly pulled away, forcing a smile through the tears. “I'm really glad I got to see you,” you said softly.

Eddie looks at you, his gaze lingering as if he’s on the verge of saying something more, but he simply nods. “Me too,” he says quietly.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you / ‘cause I know that you feel me somehow / you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be / and I don’t want to go home right now”

The ride home felt like déjà vu. Another teary-eyed drive to your apartment after walking away from the man you loved.

Once you were home, you sank into the couch. Wrapped in a blanket, tears streamed down your face as The Smiths' The Queen Is Dead album played on the record player. For the 17th of November, the weather was a bit of a mess. It honestly felt poetic, the thunderstorm mirroring the emotions you were feeling. Every crack of thunder echoed your sobs.

About an hour into your pity party, you were starting to regain some composure when the buzz of the intercom startled you. You figured it was your neighbor, who often used the wrong buzzer, so you hit the button to let them in. Just as you were about to lay back in your spot on the couch, you heard a knock at your apartment door. Curious and a bit irritated, you peered through the peephole and froze. It was Eddie, drenched from the rain, with tears streaming down his face. Your heart raced as you swung the door open, and he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

"Eddie, what-" Before you could utter another word, he started rambling.

“What are the fucking odds you’d be at that bar tonight?” he began, his voice breaking. “On a night that was supposed to be a highlight in my life, all I wanted was to share it with you.” His words came out in fractured gasps, his tears mixing with the rain on his face.

“When you said I fought for everything I wanted, it felt like a knife twisting in my chest... because it’s a lie when I let you leave.” His voice cracked, and he struggled to steady himself.

“I should’ve told you this at the bar,” he choked, his tears falling harder now. “It felt like fucking fate that you were there tonight, and I still let you walk away. Again. I'm so sorry for the way things turned out. I should've fought for us. I should've fought for you. I let you go because I couldn’t admit I loved you. Even though you knew - of course fucking you knew - because you see me, all of me. And you’ve loved me through it, even when I didn’t think it was possible.” He buried his face in his hands, wiping his tears and catching his breath.

“I was convinced I wasn’t enough for you,” he continued. “But you wanted me all the same. I’m so sorry, I should’ve called you weeks ago. I’m sorry for being scared I couldn't be what you deserve, but every day without you has been fucking hell.” His breaths came in jagged, broken waves. “I thought I could move on... but the goddamn world would have to stop before I could ever stop feeling this for you... It’s always been you.”

“Eddie,” you breathed.

Eddie stepped forward, his hands cupping your face. “I'm still not sure if I'm the man you deserve, but I'd like to try if you’ll have me.”

You nodded at his words, tears streaming down your face. Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his in a kiss that began tenderly but quickly deepened, fueled by a desperate need to reconnect and erase the distance that had come between you. Your moans mingled as your tongues met, and Eddie's hands tangled in your hair. When you finally pulled apart, both of you breathless, you rested your foreheads together.

“I love you, Eddie Munson,” you whispered.

“I love you so fucking much, baby,” he murmured, placing a kiss on your forehead.

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midnightorchids · 4 months

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Hey babe- I wanted to know how you felt about booknerd!reader x Jason. Because it's been rotting my brain forever now and I need to know what someone as genius as yourself thinks about it. So like- We know Jason is a book girl. He's got huge floor to ceiling shelves in his apartment filled with non-fiction, historical fiction, classics, and maybe a few Si-Fi titles. I feel like he would love Toni Morison, Maya Angelou, Henrik Isben, Margret Atwood, and maybe even Harukai Murakami. He has this beautiful collection of leather bond additions of the Iliad Bruce gave him when he was 16. And when he finally invites you over, he cannot contain his excited smile as you start gushing over his home library. He makes you guys coffee and you spend hours talking about your fav genres, authors, online author drama - and after he's walking back to his apartment after dropping you off, he's smiling down at his phone at the message you sent. 'I had so much fun today! Ur library is so so so cool, was wondering if you would be ok going with me to Chapters next week? Wanted to pick up the new Skyward book' He's kicking his feet and hiding his face in his pillow. So deeply overjoyed that his crush shares in his immense love of literature. After you guys officially get together, he buys you so many fucking books. He fallows your goodreads wishlist religiously and surprises you almost every month with a new addition to your growing collection. He usually collects used paper backs, but for you, he splurges on the hardcover special additions. Of course it's because he loves you but it's also so that, maybe, you'll be more incentivised to move into a different apartment. One with floor-to-ceiling book shelves and a shared bed... just saying.. He branches out into more genres and authors he wouldn't usually read from just so he could talk about your favourite books with you. You do the same - your book collections getting mixed together in the process. Library dates, bookstore dates, used-bookstore dates. Your first couple of dates and realisations of love happened in and around books. You would always leave little messages inside the first page of the books you give him. So that if your every away or he's on a mission and he takes a book with him, he'll have one of your small messages of love as a reminder of something to return home to.

Hi hon!! I’m so sorry for the late response, I’ve been dying with uni and just life in general recently, but I’m back and ready to write again!!

I fully agree with almost everything that you said, like you’ve written it out so well and it’s just so cute! I was literally giggling and kicking my feet at the last one omg.

I shall try to add more stuff!!

Jason’s go to present for his loved ones is annotated copies of his favourite books. He only does this when he feels comfortable with a person because sharing his thoughts feels raw and vulnerable sometimes.

Having a significant other who loves to read and appreciates these types of gifts would make him feel happy and very emotional. It’s not often he gets to share this side of himself with people.

When he gifts his copies to his friends or his partner, he feels like he’s leaving a piece of him with the person, so he only does this when he trusts you.

He leaves detailed little messages on the margins of his books. He draws little smiley faces on the cute parts and angry faces on the parts that made him upset.

In the books for his significant other, Jason leaves little notes around the quotes that remind him of you. He highlights them in a different colour and makes sure his notes look extra tidy.

He sucks at wrapping things, so sometimes you’ll get a very poorly wrapped, tape covered novel. You’ll look at the wrapping and laugh, you’d pinch his cheeks teasingly and tell him he did a good job. He’d turn his face away in embarrassment, which leads to you placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Then, there would be times where he doesn’t have the energy to deal with the horrible wrapping paper. So, you’ll be gifted a plain paper back with a sticky note on the front cover that reads ‘for you,’ in squiggly lines.

It’s honestly sweet and he gets very shy about it.

Also, Jason’s taste in books is very diverse, he reads anything from the classics to romance to gothic horror. He reads anything and everything and because of that, I think that it would be very easy for you to share your thoughts and recommendations with him.

Even if Jason hasn’t read the book, he listens intently with a huge smile on his face. He loves listening to you talk. If he doesn’t know the author or the book, he will try to familiarize himself with what you’re reading and branch into different genres.

There would be lots of reading and bookstore dates. You’d browse through the different aisles with his hand in yours, only letting go when a particular book catches your attention. He watches you in awe as you gush about the different series.

(Side note, my friends and I always go to bookstores and just point out the worst books we’ve read and I think Jason would do that too.)

As you search through the shelves to find your next read, he’ll come to you all excited, rambling about the book in his hand. From the looks of it, it seems like he loves the book. His hands are moving around, he’s smiling and giggling, but if you pay attention, he’s actually just cussing out the author.

This becomes a tradition in your relationship. You both bring up books that you hate instead of the ones that you really enjoy. You’d spend the next hour of your bookstore visit just giggling at the random passages that the author thought were good enough to share with the world.

I think this would also lead to a book club of reading awful books sometimes just for shits and giggles. There would be weeks where you would read amazing, well written stories together, but then there would be times when you guys would pick up something bad just to make fun of it.

Overall, Jason would love having a book nerd significant other because he finally has someone who he can geek out with.

#gn!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 7 months

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peace - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys! missed you. desperately wanted to write more hoh!reader, so i did it. this can be read on it's own, OR it can be read as a part two to my fic, 'the lakes', which you can read here! feedback always appreciated! <3 warnings: so much damn fluff, suggestive behaviors, like literally tooth rotting fluff! mentions of some abelism but nothing actually happens it's just sort of mentioned. matt hates buffalo chicken pizza, the cold hurts readers ears, also a lot of kissin' and tinnitus because of course there is. word count: 3.0k summary: tinnitus, buffalo chicken pizza, and objections. what more can you ask for from matt murdock? paring: matt murdock x hoh!reader now playing: peace - taylor swift "the devils in the details/but you got a friend in me/would be enough if i could never give you peace?"

There are things that no one teaches you about dating.

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man.

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man, who has super senses and is also a vigilante.

There are things that no one teaches you about dating Matt Murdock, a blind man, who has super senses and is also a vigilante… while also being deaf.

As you lost your hearing, you knew dating would be difficult. That was never a secret. Your first girlfriend after you started wearing hearing aids once hid them from you as a punishment after an argument. Safe to say that relationship didn’t last long.

One time, you went on a date with a guy who asked in the middle of your dinner, ‘Could you please take off your headphones? It’s cool that they’re Bluetooth but it’s really rude.’ You did not make it to dessert.

Then there was the time that your ex-boyfriend thought you were talking about him in ASL to your mom in front of him. You broke up with him soon after.

And Matt has experienced his fair share of ableism in dating too—Women who thought they could get away with stealing from him because he was blind, or that thought that he just had to have a service dog, and he’d be so cute with one.

So, when you started dating each other, things were obviously different. You weren’t sure how, but the idea of dating another person with a disability never occurred to you. Maybe it was because of how often you found people playing oppression Olympics, a classic game of ‘who has it worse?’ a game you had no interest in playing.

And the struggles you and Matt have in your relationship are never ones represented in rom-coms or in romantic novels. Dating any blind man would have been hardly represented but Matt, with his charm and heightened senses, was completely uncharted waters. And yet, you dive in headfirst.

One of the most romantic things Matt does for you within the first six months of your relationship happens on a cold February day. Winter in New York isn’t over until at least March, so you walk home from work, arm in arm. You decide to stop in for Thai food but decide to stand outside in favor of in the crowded restaurant where Matt would be hearing too many things and you wouldn’t be hearing nearly enough.

But he notices, as he often does, how you squirm in discomfort, waiting for time to pass. Though you do not show it in your face, he hears it in the way you breath deeply to try and relax through whatever it is that’s bothering you. He notices the grip on his arm tightening, even just a bit.

“What’s wrong, bee?” You’re never getting over your fondness for the nickname. But you stay quiet for a second, because you know he can tell if you’re lying.

“My ears hurt.” You hate saying it, because you feel like it’s all you do—yap about your ears and how much they hurt. They hurt from talking on the phone and holding it up to your ear for so long. They hurt from being in loud environments like parties and bars. But dear god, do they hurt right now. And you know exactly why.

“Oh, is it too loud? We could move to a different spot,” he says softly but you shake your head.

“Uh.. No. It’s cold. The cold is bothering my ears.” You explain, and he just nods. But before he can respond, you continue, “They’re in pain when it’s cold and earmuffs don’t do anything except block out sound and I can’t hear anyways, negating the point of my hearing aids.” You’ve tried earmuffs time and time again. And usually, you’d just wear a beanie or something, but you forgot yours.

So, Matt thinks for a moment, before tucking his cane under his arm, before lifting his hands to come up to your face. The heel of his hand comes up to rest against your cheeks while the length of his fingers gently cup around your ears. He’s not pressing down, making it harder to hear, but your ears are immediately warmer. Matt’s hands—and well, everything, are naturally very warm and the leather gloves he has on makes it even more so.

Your face flushes, as you lean into his touch. What a man you have found yourself. You stay like this for a little while, until your food is ready. Your face turns and you plant a gentle kiss to the palm of his hand.

As you leave the restaurant after grabbing your food, you want to say one more thing. Just quickly.

“Thanks for helping, by the way.. I’m sorry I constantly complain about my ears.” You tell him, and he just gets this goofy grin on his face.

“At least you’re not blind. That would suck.” He links his arm with yours. You just laugh, leaning against him.

“Shut up,” and at this request, he scoffs.

“You love listening to me talk, it’s one of your favorite things ever!” he defends.

You just grin because your boyfriend can tell when you’re lying. And you know anything other than telling him that what he said was true would be the biggest lie you ever told.

...

It’s not all sunshine and rainbows with Matt, though.

Okay, maybe that’s sort of dramatic. Neither of you are particularly violent nor angry, but one time you get really heated.

Your time working with Nelson, Murdock & Page is wonderful, and because it’s just the four of you, often, you wind up getting lunch together. Someone runs out, grabs food, and you all sit in the conference room, talk and eat.

But today, you barely made it to lunch.

“Where do you guys wanna eat today?” Foggy asks, leaning against your doorway. He knows Matt can hear him from wherever, but you need him to be in the room to be able to decode what he’s saying. Karen leans against the desk in the main part of the office.

“Pizza?” You shrug, and Matt calls from his office,

“Sounds good!”

“Great. What do you guys want?” He asks.

“I’m really in the mood for buffalo chicken pizza, I dunno why.” You shrug. Matt’s footsteps echo through the office, before he’s in your doorway as well.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

You gaze at him, perplexed.

“Uh… I want buffalo chicken pizza?”

“Honey, You cannot be serious.”

“What is your problem, Matthew?” You laugh, but he looks disgusted.

“You are a New York native! How can you enjoy something as blasphemous as wanting buffalo chicken pizza?” He asks, and Foggy just laughs.

“Dude, no way. You can’t be discriminatory towards pizza.” Then, Karen speaks up.

“No, you can’t. Not technically. But I most definitely am. Buffalo chicken pizza ruins the point of pizza!”

Then, you go to defend yourself.

“The point of Pizza is to enjoy it! And I enjoy buffalo chicken pizza!”

“Well, you’re enjoying pizza wrong!”

“You can’t enjoy pizza incorrectly!”

At this point, Foggy is just giggling, “I can’t breathe,” He wheezes.

Now, you stand and leave your desk, going into the main part of the office.

“Where are you going?” Matt asks.

“I don’t need to be berated about my pizza preferences in my own office by my own boyfriend!”

“I have a valid excuse; I can taste all the ingredients of buffalo chicken pizza and it’s disgusting!”

“It’s not my fault you’re a freak with crazy senses!”

Matt gasps, “Bee, you wound me!”

“Do not use that nickname with me, Matthew!” You tell him, “That’s a low blow!”

“Why, just because I think your pizza choices are awful doesn’t mean I don’t still love you, Sweetheart! Your pizza preference is just inexcusable, and I think you need to accept that—”

“You know what?”

“What?”

Your hands come up to your ears, quickly turning your hearing aids off and taking them off, putting it on a nearby desk.

Though you cannot hear, Foggy and Karen’s face tells you that they are dying of laughter, and Matt has this offended look on his face when he realizes he no longer hears the familiar buzzing of your hearing aids.

This is how you spend your day. You sit at your desk, hungry, as your boyfriend yaps by your doorway. You know he’s asking you to put your hearing aids in or telling you that your pizza request is dumb, you can just sort of make out what he’s saying by the movement of his lips.

But you do not budge, and by the time it’s time to go back to his apartment, you simply slip on your coat and wait for him to meet you by the door. He has given up trying to talk to you, for the most part. But the silent treatment is killing him. Even when you get to his apartment, he’s left speechless as you silently retreat into his bedroom, stealing some clothes and going to lay down.

Honestly, though? The worst part isn’t the silent treatment or ignoring him, but it’s the fact that he knows your ears ring even worse when you walk through the city without your hearing aids on. He knows you’re in pain. It’s killing him because you’re trying not to show it, but he can tell you’re clenching your jaw and burying your head beneath his pillow. You’re trying to rely on the softness of his sheets and the faint smell of him lingering between the sheets.

So, he devises a plan. And every minute he waits for the plan to be carried out is torture because he knows you’re too stubborn to forfeit your opinion on buffalo chicken pizza. When he is finally able to give you an apology you truly deserve, he grabs your hearing aids off the coffee table and crawls into bed behind you. You feel the bed dip but don’t say anything.

He plants a soft kiss to your hand, beginning to trail kisses up your arm and shoulder. He kisses your neck, and then jaw. You glance back over to him, seeing the hearing aids in his hand. You take them from him and put them on, before turning them on. He grins at the familiar humming they create at a frequency that will not bother you.

“Still mad at me, bee?” He asks, kissing your shoulder again. You shrug.

“Mad is a strong word, but yes.”

“Let me make it up to you?”

“Fine, but only because you’re cute.” He likes this answer. He takes your hand and pulls you off the bed, taking you to the kitchen. And you smell.. Pizza. There’s a box from your favorite place, and you step away from him to open the box. It’s a half plain pie and a half buffalo chicken pie. Because no matter how much he disagrees with you, he just wants you to talk to him and not be in so much pain for the sake of winning an argument.

You turn your head and place a soft kiss to his cheek. He tilts his head and places a soft kiss to your lips.

“Am I forgiven, bee?”

“I think so, Matty.” You hum.

He grins and kisses you again, thrilled to sense your more relaxed posture now.

...

Another challenge of your relationship comes from being lawyers. Mostly since you’re both ridiculously stubborn. You have a fun game you like to play out of it, though.

This one time you play, you’re laying with him on his couch, listening to music when you start yapping.

“I think I might style my hair a different way,” you tell him, but he just shrugs and plays with your hair.

“I think you look gorgeous either way.”

You furrow your brows for a second, and his face splits into a grin since he knows what’s coming.

“Objection,” you start, “You’re blind, you have no actual way of telling if I’m conventionally attractive.”

He considers this for a second.

“Overruled,” He determines, “Beauty is subjective, and in my opinion, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.” Your face flushes.

“Objection,” You start again, and he groans, knowing you won’t let it go, “You don’t need to flirt with me, I already want you.”

“Overruled,” He counters again, quicker this time, “I like flirting with you, and it keeps the spark alive. Plus, I like making you blush.”

You raise an eyebrow, and he knows what’s coming next.

“Objection,” You hum, “How could you possibly know I’m blushing?”

He simply moves his hands from your hair and rests them against your cheeks, before deciding.

“Overruled.”

There’s another time that you’re at Josie’s, and you want to talk to Karen about a surprise you’re planning for his birthday, but he’s sitting right there, so you start signing. And he knows you’re signing by the way your hands smack, and the air moves through your fingers.

“Objection,” He groans, “I can’t understand what you’re talking about!”

“Mm, Overruled,” You determine, “There are some things I’m allowed to keep from you, but you have super senses and can tell when I’m lying and can hear me from a long distance away. Signing is the only way to have things be confidential.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, objection—You aren’t supposed to keep secrets from your partner.”

“Overruled.” You tell him. “One, that’s something people say about wedded spouses, ask me to marry you, get a marriage certificate and show me a nice ring then we’ll talk,” He blushes at that, “Two, you have an unhealthy idea of relationships from past relationships. You’re in therapy for a reason.”

Matt nods.

“Okay, okay.” He sighs, “That’s fair.” You grin at this.

“See? Was it so hard to let me win, Counselor?”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, it was, Counselor.” He tells you, but you just giggle, because you love being a lawyer and you love your boyfriend.

But this last time is your favorite.

You spent the night drinking at Marci and Foggy’s, but there was this tension between you and Matt, and you can hardly wait to get home. So at some point, you make a half assed excuse, mumbling something about how your hearing aid batteries are low, but whatever it was that you told them as an excuse, you don’t really care.

Because now you’re on your bed, Matt pressed against you as he kisses down your neck. His teeth graze against your skin, and you gasp when he bites down, leaving a large mark on your neck.

Then, Matt, horny and a little tipsy, goes,

“Objection, I thought I told you to be quiet.” He continues to kiss your neck, jumping from side to side, leaving marks here and there.

“Overruled, I’m deaf, I can’t tell how loud I’m being,” You hum, your fingers lacing into his hair. He hums and kisses your collarbone before he speaks again.

“Objection,”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Matt—”

He shushes you softly before kissing you.

“Ssh… It’s listening time, sweetheart,” Okay, that was hot, “Objection,” He starts again, “You can be quiet for me, I know you can. I know you can follow orders, baby.” He then kisses your neck again.

“Overruled,” You start, tugging on his hair a bit. “You decided to play our game while knowing I’m at your mercy. It’s an abuse of power.”

“An abuse of—” he half scoffs, half chuckles. “You know what, Sweetheart?”

“What, Matty?”

“Objection. Be quiet or I’ll stop.”

Damn. An ultimatum. You knew that in situations like these, Matt’s willpower is stronger than yours.

“Sustained.”

“There we go, bee, was that so hard?”

...

The real best part of dating Matt Murdock, a blind lawyer with super senses while being deaf?

Well..

It starts on a warm sunny Sunday morning. You’re laying in bed, the sun peeking through its curtains. You’re laying on your stomach, face smooshed against pillows as he stretches out beside you. In another life, your dear boyfriend was a cat.

You don’t have your hearing aids in yet. It’s too early. Plus, you’re just enjoying the look of Matt basking in the warmth of the light. He’s gorgeous, your boy.

You lean forward and gently kiss the corner of his eyes, squeezed shut as he stretches. He stops when he feels your lips against his skin, smiling softly. He says good morning, but you can’t really hear him, so you just take his hand and press a kiss to his skin there too.

He returns the favor later, as you’re pouring your coffee. He presses a soft kiss to your ear, and you grin, resting your body against his He presses another kiss to your other ear. It’s something small, but it thrills you.

Matt is gentle with you in a way that you’re not used to. It’s not the sort of gentleness that comes with most people, where they’re afraid of breaking you because of your being deaf, but it’s a gentleness that comes despite it.

You enjoy bathing in his affection, especially because he is just so willing to give it to you and while it should be something you’re used to, you’re not. But you’re getting there. Matt makes sure of it.

The pair of you just seem to find the darkest cracks and crevices of the other, and you love those parts dearly.

You begin to kiss the corner of his eyes more often, and it quickly replaces his jaw as your favorite place to kiss. And your ears, despite how much pain and suffering they provide to you, Matt is a big fan of just kissing them.

So, when he leans forward and kisses your ears, you lean over to him and kiss the corners of his eyes. The way he squeezes his eyes shut at the affection is pretty adorable. It’s always awful when he must slip on those red glasses that hide those pretty eyes.

“Objection,” you groan.

He places a soft kiss to the top of your ear.

“Overruled.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x hoh!reader #deaf!reader #hoh!reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #gn!reader

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agentrouka-blog · 3 months

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Favourite sassy Sansa moments ??

This one is still my favourite:

“When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father."

"Little pointy beard and all?" Alayne laughed.

“I never meant..."

"I hope you joust better than you talk."

I know she’s technically playing a role here but SANSA STARK’S SASS IS UNDERRATED!!!! she’s so unintentionally funny

Anon, I am pretty sure it's intentional. ^_^

Sansa is dang charming and funny when she's allowed to be.

The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. "Ofttimes Ser Ilyn frightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect." "As well he should." The queen had descended from the wheelhouse. The spectators parted to make way for her. "If the wicked do not fear the King's Justice, you have put the wrong man in the office." Sansa finally found her words. "Then surely you have chosen the right one, Your Grace," she said, and a gale of laughter erupted all around her. "Well spoken, child," said the old man in white. "As befits the daughter of Eddard Stark. I am honored to know you, however irregular the manner of our meeting. I am Ser Barristan Selmy, of the Kingsguard." He bowed. (AGOT, Sansa I)

This isn't quite as hilarious at first glance, but she's very much working her audience here, to great effect.

Of course, she rarely has the opportunity to openly speak at all, let alone with sass, so a lot of her snark happens internally.

One of my favorite unspoken lines is this:

The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. (ASOS, Sansa IV)

The classic:

"They say my brother Robb always goes where the fighting is thickest," she said recklessly. "Though he's older than Your Grace, to be sure. A man grown." (ACOK, Sansa V)

I'm sure there are many that escape me right now.

But yeah, the TWOW sample chapter is pure gold in terms of watching Sansa be closer to her carefree self. Excitedly overseeing preparations, running and gossiping with a friend, free to bite back for once, free to let her thoughts indulge silly details or observations that don't specifically serve to protect her from harm.

Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died. [...]

Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms." It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest. "And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?" Alayne asked him. "You are young to be so widely travelled." [...]

Myranda rolled her eyes. "They're from the Sisters. Did you ever know a Sisterman who could joust? They clean their swords with codfish oil and wash in tubs of cold seawater." "Well," Alayne said, "at least they're clean." "Some of them have webs between their toes. I'd sooner marry Lord Petyr. [...] She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. [...]

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. [....]

"And is Ser Harrold with them?" Horrible Ser Harrold. "He is." [...]

Ser Harrold had the grace to blush. "Her father says she is more precious to him than gold. He's rich, the richest man in Gulltown. A fortune in spices." "What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?" That almost made him stumble. "My lady japes." "Oh, no." Petyr will howl when I tell him what I said.

Alayne is the Sansa that she could have been all this time, the girl who liked to giggle and be silly with Jeyne Poole, had no great issue holding her own in conversation, who drew pleasure and energy from the world around her.

I mean, we know she is playing a role and based Alayne partially on Jon Snow... but that girl there is not a terse and moody grump. She's not even a lean shadow laughingly racing to the bridge with his brother. She is a highborn lord's daughter, inhabiting the center of attention with confidence like she was born to it. Like Sansa.

#sansa stark #alayne stone

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talesofesther · 2 years

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golden ballads

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Requested by multiple anons for my Christmas Special event.

A/N: First of all, I just wanted to say thank you so much for 7k followers, ily. Second, this prompt was requested by a lot of people, and I won't be answering each individual ask, so if you requested prompt 18 or 13 with her, this is for you. Lastly, I changed the setting a little bit to fit the story better. <3

Masterlist

"Would you give me this honor?"

Classical music played in the background as you spoke, stretching a hand towards Wednesday. A couple of other students — mostly their parents honestly — had already gathered the courage to dance in the middle of the big ballroom.

It was the school's yearly end-of-the-year party. Attendance wasn't mandatory, but when you asked Wednesday to be your partner for the night, she didn't have it in herself to say no.

There was a huge Christmas tree shining obnoxiously behind you, its ornaments almost covering the green leaves completely, but it did give you a warm yellow glow that was hard to call anything other than enchanting.

"Only because it would be too sad to reject you in front of these many people," Wednesday told you as she grabbed your hand and got up from her seat.

"Sure thing," you smirked, finding utmost adorable the way she refused to give in to her own desires.

The ballroom was gorgeous, an elegant contrast to when it housed the Rave'n party. All chandeliers had their lights on for a change, there were a few Christmas lights attached to the walls, and the tables had white and golden ornaments on them as they framed the round dancefloor, and of course, the main attraction was the ten feet tall Christmas tree on the center.

You led Wednesday to one of the most secluded spots of the ballroom, your heels clicking against the polished floor.

"Step on my feet and I will kick you." She warned.

"Wouldn't dream of it." You turned to face Wednesday with a smirk, raising your joined hands so you could press your palms together, your fingers intertwining with hers in a loving yet timid gesture.

Wednesday didn't hesitate on placing her free hand on your shoulder, silently giving you permission to hold her waist. You did so with a tender touch, your palm sliding along her hip bone until your fingertips traced her spine.

You watched the way her eyes traveled over your face, focusing first on your lips before she met your gaze with a slow blink.

The soft melody playing in the background set an easy rhythm for you to follow, swaying in tandem with Wednesday as her body stayed glued to yours; so close you became aware of every little movement she made. It brought goosebumps to your exposed skin.

After a few notes, you dared to take her hand and let go of her waist to twirl her around and then right back into your arms. The bold move pulled the tiniest smile from Wednesday, the blinking lights turning her pale skin a soft golden and highlighting the freckles of her cheeks.

Wednesday's black dress hugged her body beautifully, flowing with each of her steps and complimenting the few wisps of hair that got loose from her braids. Her lips had a burgundy paint to them; it got you wondering how many times you'd have to kiss her for it to wear off.

There was a strategically placed mistletoe near the back doors, undoubtedly the act of some students trying to get lucky. And when the music ended, you and Wednesday just so happened to be standing almost directly underneath it.

The last notes of your song faded just as another began in its place, people were chatting and drinking champagne around you, a few students laughing loudly near the Christmas tree only to receive a glare from Principal Weems. In some ways, it felt like you and Wednesday were detached from the real world and belonged only in this little moment.

She didn't say anything as she removed her hand from your shoulder, her black nails grazing the skin of your arm as she did so. You followed suit by dropping the hand you had on her waist.

But when Wednesday made no effort to let go of your intertwined hands, a tiny grin crept into your lips.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, indirectly asking what was so amusing.

"We're uh," you started, glancing up at the small thing, "we're right under a mistletoe, it means-"

"I know what it means." Wednesday cut you off, her chin angled a tad up as she pursed her dark lips.

"If you care about tradition, yeah," you chuckled nervously. On a normal day, you had trouble reading Wednesday's emotions; on a night like this, where she was holding your hand and standing so close that her perfume was all you could feel, it was ultimately impossible.

Though there was a softness to the way she held herself that was quite hard to miss. "Ones that are meaningless and childish shouldn't even be called traditions." She stated before taking a breath.

The tip of her shoes bumped yours and only then you noticed that she took a step closer to you.

"Right," you mumbled, trapped in the spell that was her.

"Maybe just opportunities," Wednesday finished before she leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle peck.

She kissed you like the first flakes of snow do when they fall from the sky, gentle and tender yet steady with their intent; falling, falling, and falling until they melt.

Your lower lip was trapped between Wednesday's ones, your hands just about managing to close around the fabric of her dress before she was pulling back. Her nose bumped yours and you wanted to trap this moment in time like the snap of a picture.

Wednesday didn't go far, she was still breathing the same air as you when she pressed her lips together in a feeble attempt to correct her lipstick. She then raised a thumb to the corner of your lips, brushing away the smudged color there.

Oh, she had you wrapped around her cold fingers and she knew it. But it was in the way that her nails traced the skin of your jaw as she prolonged her touch on you as much as possible, that you knew she'd take good care of your heart.

"Now come," Wednesday tugged on your hand, "we still have a few more songs to make this night count."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @gayestfeels26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @witchyhs-blog @tobylikesfire @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story #christmas event

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star-dust-stuf · 8 months

Text

James Wilson x fem!reader

title: but the feeling is fine

warnings: some blood, angst, cursing

a/n: shut up, this is corny I know but I love it. It’s sort of a classic love plot but I like it. I hope you do. sorry for typos.

House of course opened his big mouth. I didn’t know how long he’s been talking about it with Wilson but I knew he’s been talking. When the day was over I went to his office, he wasn’t there but my diary sure was and it was open. It was absolutely embarrassing! He knew! And I knew he was going to tell Wilson.

I stormed out of his office, passed Wilson’s office and towards the front desk where House was talking with Wilson, luckily that floor was empty because I did something absolutely drastic, though I didn’t even have to think twice about it.

I walked right up to House, Wilson gazed at me as I walked towards them. He was taller than me but it didn’t stop me from punching him right in the face. “You ass!”

In return House fell to the floor, he was surprised, holding his cut lip. I shout with pain and held my hand, my body facing Wilson who put both his hands on my shoulders. “Y/n!” Wilson shouted with disbelief and concern.

House started to laugh a little and he started to stand up. “Damn.”

“Y/n, what the hell was that?!” Wilson was trying to make eye contact but I was to consumed with the embarrassment and the pain.

House scoffed a little. “You know you could’ve just told me I was an ass.”

“Shut up!” I shouted at him.

Wilson held my shoulders a little tighter. “Alright, alright. Calm down.” His voice was stern but he was more worried about me. “Let me see.”

I let go of my hand, it was red and bruised, Wilson sighed. “Come with me.” He guided me to his office, he gave House a bit of a look as he did.

Wilson knew House always teased me in some way, and he wasn’t so surprised if one day I lost it and actually punched him. He opened the door for me and had me sit down, shutting the door behind him. “Before we even talk about why you punched him, let me have a look at your hand.”

Wilson pulled up a chair in front of mine and gently grabbed my hand. Be started to move it up and down, I winced in return. “Can you move your fingers?”

“It hurts.” I replied.

He nodded. “It’s sprained.” He rolled over to his desk and opened his drawer, he pulled out some compression tape and rolled back over to me. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly.”

I did so and he started to wrap my hand and wrist as gently but as fast as he could. “Good.” He finished up then looking at me.

I looked back at him. “I don’t think I should even tell you.”

Wilson chuckled a little, “if you punched him, he must’ve been very antagonizing.” I still didn’t speak. “He put a tampon with your name on it in the men’s bathroom?”

I gave him a glair, “no…”

Wilson tried to lighten the mood. “Then what did he do?”

I sighed. “He read my diary and… I thought he…” I kept breaking off.

“You thought he told me about something in your diary?” I nodded. Wilson nodded too, “y/n, even if he did you shouldn’t be embarrassed.

“So he did!” My eyes go wide.

Wilson tried to calm me. “Yes, you know what. He did!”

I groaned with embarrassment and I stood up. “No, y/n. Don’t go.”

“It’s enough I have to go to work with you every day of my life and have you…”

“Know that you love me…” Wilson finished for me.

I groaned again and headed out of his office, I felt him walk slowly, though he gave me my space. “I thought it was cute!” He tired to make me feel better.

I kept walking till I was out of his sight. I made it to the end of the hall and sat in the large hallway, my back against the wall thinking about how I was going to even show up tomorrow. I heard Houses cane echo through that hallway, I looked up and saw him walking towards me. “So, better now that you got your anger out?”

“House if I could, I’d beat you with your cane.”

“Who’s stopping you.” He gazed down at me. I ignored him, my face flushed with embarrassment and my hand aching terribly. “So what if he knows what kind of crap you wrote about him in your diary.”

“What exactly did you tell him?” I looked back up at him.

“Just told him that you had an entire page in red ink, his name was mentioned about twenty times and there was hearts drawn on it.”

I put my head down, regretting everything. “You’re an ass, House!”

“Told him you fell in love with him the first day you saw him. How long have you two been working together?” He teased me.

“Don’t mess with me house!”

“You wrote in that book like a teenage girl with a crush. You didn’t expect me to want to share it with the very man you probably pretended is your pillow in the middle of the night.”

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You know what Wilson told me?”

I looked back up at house. “Do I want to know?”

“He said he’s never knew how to speak to you, not in his professional way. He told me he’s always wanted to sit next to you in the cafeteria. God, you two are teenagers.”

I blushed a little. “He did?”

House sighed. “Next time I’ll tear out that page and give it to him.” He started to walk away.

“You-.”

“Ass!” House finished.

#x reader #fanfiction #fluff #x fem!reader #cute #house md #house md x reader #james wilson x reader

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grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

the right way to do it

johnny ‘soap’ mctavish x fem!reader

warnings— explicit content 18+ minors dni (nothin crazy, if you’ve read any of my fics you’ll be fine, just classic dirty talk and fuckin’, tiny bit of voyerism tho. whoops. generally soft tho, what can i say? i love soft and sweet stuff okay! let me be.) no fucking plot really. established (sort of) relationship. soap my baby boy being sexy.

a/n— i guarantee this is fucking terrible, but then again it’s fucking call of duty fan fiction. like, what the fuck. who writes that?? (oh. oh. i do now, apparently. kill me!) hope ya like it anyways!

“Stop it.” You use your knee to bash into the side of Soaps’ leg under the table, and he flinches so hard his chair drags along the ground with a loud squeak. He looks at you, his jaw open, shocked. Dramatic to the end. “You’re going to get us caught.”

Soaps hand retreats from your thigh, a smug grin on his face as he slides his chair back next to you, closer this time. The heat of his body is pressed against the line of yours, from his broad shoulders all the way down to where your matching combat boots touch on the floor. You can feel him laugh against you when you squirm in your chair, knowing he’s smiling even though he’s turned his head back to the front of the room. Smug bastard.

He knows just how easy you are to mess with.

After a while, when everyone’s attention has gone back to the droning meeting some of the Captains’ declared mandatory, Soap turns back to you, head flopping to the side and his eyebrows raised.

“You look flustered, hen. What’s gotcha all hot and bothered?” He grins lazily, the kind where it only lights up half his face, and you want to slap him. Dumb smile.

“Stop it.”

“You started it.” He retorts, reaching out for you again under the table.

“No, I didn’t!” Your eyes widen, pouting like a child. He was right, of course. You did start it, you just didn’t expect him to try and finish it in the middle of a meeting. “Johnny, this isn’t the time—“

“Ohh, I think it’s just the right time. Just like you thought playin’ with me like that at breakfast was the right time.” Your cheeks heat at the memory, how quickly he’d lost his ability to speak when you pressed up against him from behind and snuck your hands down his pants. He’d only just had the mind to moan your name before you disappeared, leaving him high and dry in the entrance to the mess hall.

You feel him again, deft fingers pulling you from your thoughts and looping into the pocket of your pants. You knew it was wrong— there were so many people in this room, and you should be paying attention, but all the fight just rushes out of you as soon as you feel him soothe circles onto your thigh, the thin barrier of material all that separates him from you.

“Hm. No come back f’me now? Cause this mornin’ you were allllll talk, but now—“ You feel him slide his hand out of your pocket, slowly so no one picks up on his movements. Then, he’s dipping it down further, curling his fingers around the meat of your thigh, hand dangerously high up. If you moved even an inch, took a breath too deep, he’d be… “Now, you gone all quiet on me.”

Voices start talking around you, but you can’t hear them anymore. Your heartbeat is too loud in your ears, and the only thing you tune into is his voice; lower and closer now. His chair creaks as he leans, the pressure on your thigh harder as he grips you to balance.

“C’mon. You know how much I love to hear your pretty little noises. Let me make ya’ feel good, love.” You can hear the smile in his voice. He was such an asshole, and he knew it. He knew he had you right there.

You shiver, and your feet move without your help. Just an inch to the side, you give him space between your legs to let his hand rise a little higher. It doesn’t matter that he’s got a shit eating grin, or how many eyes are potentially on you both right now, how many people are in this room— you have no fight when it comes to him.

“Yeah. There you are, love. You wan’ it that bad, don’t ya’? You’d let me give it to ya right here.” He whispers, words brushing against the shell of his ear. You think he must of chosen a pair of seats in the back just for this reason. “T’s alright. I’m not mean like you. I’ll give ya anything ya want.”

You turn your head to him sharply, giving him a pointed look. ‘Not mean’. He was a dick. A complete, total utter asshole—

“Shit, Johnny.” You curse as the strong line of his hand presses right up against your heat. Your hands fly from beside you, fingernails digging into his forearm, doing a pathetic attempt at pushing him away. “Wait…wait. We can’t—“

“Mhmm. Same thing I said this mornin’.” You squeeze your eyes shut, biting down on your bottom lip to stop from making any sounds. “You remember what you said t’me?”

His hand moves slowly, testing how much you wanted him to stop. He knew if you really wanted to, you could push him away easily. It’s almost sad how little you resist him, and your hips chase his movement of the aching drag up and down. It’s not enough, but for where you are right now, it’s far too fucking much.

“You two paying attention back there?” A booming voice calls from the front of the room, and Soap stops moving his hand. Your eyes open, and before you can squeak out a reply, he’s saving your ass.

“Of course, Captain. Always love our chats, you know that.” He says happily, saluting casually with his free hand, the other still between your legs. A few laughs muffle through the room, and it’s enough that the Captain goes back to reciting whatever was written on the board behind him. Soap leans back down to you. “Careful. You’ll get us caught.”

You roll your eyes, and he takes the chance of your short lived seclusion to press a chaste kiss to your neck. You gasp, eyes flying open.

“I asked you a question.”

“What are you…” You say, air struggling to get into your lungs with short, punched inhales. “Fuck, you gotta stop. We can’t do this here.”

“This morning. I told you to stop, and you said… ‘aw, but you look so pretty like this’. That’s what ya said.” You bite back a groan, remembering exactly that moment. How hard he was when your fingers brushed over his pants, how desperate he sounded. Okay… it was a bitchy move. But that was you and Soap. You teased each other. Surely he wouldn’t take it this far, though. “So mean to me. After I treat you so good last night too, aye?”

The lights dim around you, the Captains’ up the front starting to sit around the dull white background they’ve dropped. You know it means some boring report that’s been sent in, and it means a solid twenty minutes of your life you’ll never get back while some dude yells at you through a projector. Usually you dread this part. But right now, you are fucking antsy. Excited.

“Sh-shut up. You’re just as bad as me—fuck.” He’s not just touching you now— no, his hands, warm and strong, are splaying on the skin of your tummy and sliding down past the buttons of your military pants. He doesn’t waste time, dipping into your underwear and finding you soaked, a little ‘tsk’ coming from him in a heavy accent when he swirls his fingers softly around your clit.

“You okay, baby? You look a little out of it…” You manage to make eye contact with him, and the fucker is chastising you. A fake sympathetic smile is on his face, puppy dog eyes like he’s speaking to a child. “Don’t worry, I’ll give ya’ what you fuckin’ want. Right here, in front of all the boys. So dirty.”

“Soap.” You choke out, the pads of his fingers setting a slow, easy rhythm that has you nearly vibrating off the chair.

“Don’t call us that. What’s my name, baby?” He hums, shuffling his chair so close it’s clanking against yours now. “C’mon. Who’s makin’ you feel this fuckin’ good right now?”

“God— you, Johnny. You fucking prick.” You whisper, the low lights of the room hiding your fidgeting figure as the video continues to play on the projector at the front. “Come on, please…I can’t—“

“Shh. You’re okay, sweetheart. Nice and slow, aye?” His nose brushes along your cheek, and your shoulders sag. “Cause ya’ look so pretty. Just f’me.”

You all but sink into it, your body slumping into his chest as he keeps that same, stupidly slow pace. Heat licks up your stomach, staying low and making you start to sweat all over. You hear Soap hum, and feel his lips against your jaw, the touch hardly there but scorching none the less.

His teeth nip at the skin he kissed, and you squeak at the harsh touch, soon covered by kisses much more sure of themselves than the first. With the darkness of the room, he must feel more confident, because his free hand angles your head down, and his mouth claims yours.

While his hand circles between your legs, light and gentle, his mouth is harsh and fast. Johnny kisses you like he’s trying to overwhelm you. It’s always desperate and begging, even when he’s controlling you like this. It’s like if he doesn’t kiss you hard and fast, something real will show, and he’s scared of it.

While you’ve never labelled what the hell this… thing is, when he kisses you like this it’s clear he’s hiding something. You’re the same, so you happily take it. Whatever it is between you, it’s stupid and reckless, and it’s better to not be vulnerable. Being on the same team, throwing yourselves into war after war, taking bullets for each other like it’s a sport— you shouldn’t care this much about each other. It was stupid. It’s why it was easier for you both to pretend you were just using each other as an outlet.

It was just sex. Just a release.

“Fuck, Johnny.“ You whimper in his mouth, and he muffles the sound as he pulls you closer, locking your lips to his. “Please.”

“Please what, love? Huh? You want it faster?” He smiles on your lips, hands picking up the pace just slightly. “S’greedy, in front of everyone.”

Your body feels heavy. The hand holding his forearm, the one supposed to be putting up resistance has instead moulded to an encouraging spectator, slowly tracing the inside of his wrist. Your chest heaves, nearly making you wheeze every breath, and when your eyes flutter open, seeing his face painted in a glowing blue and green from the film lights, your legs nearly shake at the sight.

“Please get me out of here, okay? You win. Y-you… Jesus Christ, you win.” He grins. The audacity of this fucking guy, to grin in your face, blatantly admitting he just wanted to beat you today. Win this weeks battle with who was more whipped for who. He’s mentally marking it on a board, and you know he’ll throw it back in your face when you try to push him away again, but you let him have it.

Maybe you want him to have more ammunition next time you’re faced with the consequences of a bad mission. Where Soap needs to be surrounded, reminded he’s not alone after a long ride in the desert, you need to be alone. Want to be alone. You want to rot in your room, blinds drawn and covers over your head, a distant belief that if you sit there long enough you’ll just melt into the mattress and fade away.

He’s the only one that can pull you out. Even if it takes him just holding you in the dark, cold silence, or letting you yell at him that you don’t want him around, don’t need him bothering you— he takes it. He won’t break, not when it comes to you. He coaxes you out with the memory of how much you’re lying to yourself. How bad you do need him.

He’ll use this one next time for sure. How you dragged him out of a meeting, claiming something about a ‘medical emergency’ just so he could take you back to your room and fuck you.

You don’t mind. You think you might like it when he does.

He secretly does too. For all his bravado, the only person he wants to be around after a mission is you. As annoying as you are, and dramatic and fucking stubborn, he still toes his way to your room every time, sneaks his way under your covers, and hides out with you until everyone else is asleep. You think he needs the company of someone, when he really just needs you.

Your nails are digging into his shoulder, dragging him by the uniform down a hallway and around the corner to your room. You only get about halfway before he’s slamming you into the wall, all teeth and tongue as he claims your mouth and runs his hands over your body. He doesn’t even touch your skin, just grazes over the thick layers of clothes, but he’s still got you arching into his touch so you press against his chest. He nips your lower lip and smacks you lightly on the arse, giving you the chance to jump up into his arms.

He takes you in stride, everything about him confident and smooth. Even the things he doesn’t expect, he lets it come like easy, gentle waves. It’s almost impossible to catch him off guard— the first time you kissed him he acted like he played you all along.

When your back hits the softness of your bed, you open your eyes. You don’t remember moving this far, or locking the door behind you, but you know Johnnys’ got you. He always has you covered. Takes care of it so you don’t have to think.

“Take your fucking shirt off.” You grumble, clawing at the buttons of his top. He laughs, head buried in the crook of your neck where you know he’s leaving bruises and marks.

“So mean. Don’t even know how to act right when your under me.” The words sound like they should be threatening, or at the very least sarcastic, but he just sounds… happy. You can hear the smile in his voice, and when he pulls his head back up, he’s delirious almost. Pupils blown out, breathless laughter kissing your cheeks as he shuffles over the top of you. “You’re gorgeous like this. You know that?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, not able to look up at him. He’s better at this— the feelings. Even though neither of you can look each other in the eye to pay a compliment outside these moments, right here he’s the opposite. Always calling you pretty, looking at you with those happy eyes, betraying all the words the two of you throw at each other when your mad.

“Shirt, Johnny.”

“Hmm. You wanna see me?”

“Yeah. Hate it when you don’t let me see you. I… want to touch you.” It’s a small confession, spurred on by his compliment, and it seems to throw him off just a bit.

“Yeah?” You nod, your hands gently skimming along the strong line of his jaw. Pfft, you were gorgeous— he… he was fucking gorgeous. “What are you thinkin’ about right now?”

“How nice you are to look at.”

“Think that’s the first nice thing you said to me today.”

“I called you pretty this morning.” You remind him, a small smile from him making your earlier anger start to melt into something soft and gooey.

“You did.”

“Meant it too.” He rolls his eyes this time, and you keep your hands on his face.

“Bet you say that to all the boys.” He blows out a dramatic sigh, head tilting to the side. He’s trying to play it off. Play it into something funny and not real. Not true. You shake your head at him, eyebrows drawn together. The confidence in your fuzzy brain will disappear in a second, but you grab hold of it enough to get the next few words out.

“Never. No one but you, Johnny. I don’t want anyone else but you.” He blinks, stopping his movement for a second. Where he usually starts laughing, calls you greedy, maybe calls you a few dirty names, instead he pauses, scrunches his face together, and lets out a breath like you’ve punched him in the chest. “John?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he leans down, hovering his mouth over yours just for a second. You feel a warm palm cup your burning cheek, and he locks his eyes on you. The few seconds he holds there feel like eternity. Everything moves in slow motion, his stare freezing your heart inside you.

It’s heavy. Loaded with something dangerous. Something illegal. Something you can’t have.

Then, he leans down and kisses you.

He’s done it a hundred times, but this is… it’s just different. It’s so, so soft. His hand holds you to the bed, keeping you still, keeping you malleable for him. His lips connect, only for a few seconds, kissing you like you’ll cut him if he moves too quick. When he does press closer, you feel him sigh— the forearm of his free arm drops next to your head, like the weight of him was too much.

You don’t remember your eyes closing. It must of been too much to look at him when he’s touching you so gently. Like he really cared. Wanted to care.

It’s over too soon. You find yourself leaning up, chasing the softness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue. His hand keeps you down, and he never looks away as he uses the other to rip his shirt over his head. The soft clang of his dog tags tangle under his chin, and draw your attention lower, to his chest.

You don’t know if you’ve told him how attracted to him you are. You know he knows— he’d have to by now. You wouldn’t have gotten with him at first if you weren’t. It’s why this whole thing started. It was just physical at first, but then he started talking, started staying longer after, and now it was fucking overwhelming. Everything about him was more and more alluring, and your hands reached out before you could stop them. You smile at the way he lets you explore. That he remembers what you said, and lets you indulge.

Your fingertips brushed their way over his stomach, and he nearly shivered under the soft touch. He was staring at you, watching your every move as you traced languid lines over and up his chest. He was breathing hard, and when your fingers twisted in the long chain of his tags, he nearly stopped completely. You yanked him back down, hovering him over you, as one of his hands comes back to brace near your head.

Wordless stills, he snakes his arm down between your bodies and pulls at the hem of your shirt. You obey the silent command, never breaking eye contact as you tug your jacket and shirt off in one go. Suddenly, you feel something you’ve never felt with him before.

You’re vulnerable.

Usually, it’s all fight. The two of you are either so mad at each other that you spend the entire time trying to win, trying to get a higher score, or you’re both so frustrated that you hardly even look each other in the eye. This is… heavy.

He leans down again, his eyes shutting tightly before he kisses you. You hum, unable to not smile underneath him as he kisses you with that same gentle affection, and your hands thread up behind his neck into the short crop of his hair, tugging him down closer. Skin meets skin, warmth blooming in your chest as he slides up your body to fit his hips between your legs. His mouth melts into yours, groaning as you tug his hair a little bit harder.

He says your name, the sound curling around your throat and choking out a strangled whimper, and then he grinds his hips slow and heavy into you, your mind going a bit blank.

“Shit. What are we… what are you doing? Hurry the fu…fuck. Fuck.” Your eyes roll back with another slow roll of his hips, and he laughs breathlessly.

“Shh. Just go with it.” He does it again, leaving a wet trail of kisses under your jaw and down to his favourite spot on your neck. He’s taking his time, tasting your skin like it’s something to be savoured. “T’s nice, isn’t it? Feels good.”

“Yeah…f-feels good.” You mumble, hiding your face in the pillows as he tugs your pants down, throwing them somewhere behind him.

He doesn’t treat himself as nice, ripping at his own pants and ridding them as quick as possible. Then he’s sinking back over you, letting you feel just how much he likes it like this. When you wrap your arms around him again and kiss him, he’s warm and safe, and you let him sweep you up into it.

He slides his hand down slow, fingers hardly grazing your clit and going past, and you know he’s fucking with you on purpose. You whine his name, and he laughs— the familiarity of the sound making you a little more confident. You bite his lower lip a bit harder than you should, and he groans.

“Don’t fucking tease me, Mactavish.” You whine pitifully, and he shakes his head.

“Not teasin, princess. Enjoyin’ it.” He draws out the words, each of them twirled in his strong accent that somehow makes you even dizzier than before.

“You didn’t enjoy it before?” You pout, and this time he laughs a little harder. Before he answers, one of his fingers slide up, and then easily slip inside of you, curling slowly so you arch of the bed.

“Yer aff yeir heid.” He mumbles, kissing you quickly like he’s trying to shut off that thought. “Just like takin’ my time with ya. Get to see more of you. You’re beautiful.”

Your chest is heavy, and you can’t focus, pleasure lighting up every nerve in your body. You feel him against your inner thigh, hard and warm, and every slight movement has him panting into your mouth. You know he’s built up from this morning, how you left him waiting and didn’t even look back. You feel bad. Horrible.

How could you leave him there? How could you leave him anywhere now, when he was looking at you like this? Like you held answers he’d been searching for all his life, right in your eyes?

It’s never been this slow. God— it fucking hurts, that’s how slow it’s moving. His fingers curl inside of you, no rush, hitting just the right spot in a way that would have you cumming in his hand if he just sped up a little. This way, he keeps you on edge, right on the precipice— hoping he lets you fall into it. You’re at his mercy, but from the feeling of him, he’s at yours, too.

“Johnny— that’s feels so good. You’re so g-good, please.” You wheeze out, feeling waves of blinding heat surging low in your tummy. He kisses you again, and you could finish just from this. The sweetness of his mouth, how his words drip like honey over your cheek, how careful he is. How loving.

“You’re okay, bonnie. You just keep ya eyes on me. I’ll take care of everythin’ else.” Your eyebrows furrow, eyes trying to focus as you feel your muscles tighten. His thumb presses lightly on your clit; soft circles drawing you into another embarrassing whine of his name. “Come on. Show me how good ya are f’me.”

“Jesus— fuck!” It feels different. You can hardly see, hardly hear anything but his low, soothing voice in your ear, telling you how sexy you are, how tight you feel around his fingers. You want to tell him to… to keep going, or stop, both— something. You want to say something, but all that comes out is his name.

Johnny. Johnny. Johnny—

You can’t control it. Pleasure blinds you— it’s cliche but it’s all you can describe it as. Your toes curl, and your fingers scrape down his back to try and find a way to ground yourself. You try to muffle your sounds, but Soap keeps your head forward with a hand on your jaw. So he can watch your face when you cum from his fingers.

“That’s it, gorgeous. Fuckin’ hell—“ You hear his voice groan in your ear, and the pleasure makes your legs shake. You’re vaguely aware that his hand slows, lazily playing with your clit as you ride out your high, but mainly you watch as he comes back into focus. You watch his eyes— pupils dilated, looking at you in awe. “You sound so pretty when you come. Fuckin’ gorgeous girl.”

Seriously— you think you’ve only seen him look like that when something blows up in front of him. Sort of mystified and obsessed.

You’re gasping for air as he moves you, flipping you over and shuffling you up the bed. You lose track of him, the haze of pleasure dumbing you down to only the most basic of movements, but then he’s there again, and you reach out.

He takes your hands, kissing your palms before pulling you to him, legs parting on instinct as he draws you into his lap. He’s leant himself against the headboard, and at some point taken off his boxers, but now, when your legs give out and you lean your weight on him, you both gasp at the feeling. His cock is hard, pressing against your wet heat, and he’s nearly shivering in anticipation. One of his hands paw at your hips, pulling you closer so your pussy drags along his length, and the other cups your cheek.

Time stops again, just for a second. His eyes pull you in, and you blink a few times to focus. His thumb traces your bottom lip. He says something you don’t understand under his breath, muttering in a heavy accent.

“Johnny…” You whisper, your heart racing.

“Yeah, love.”

“What are you doing to me?” You could cry, you were so under his spell right now. If he wanted to, this could be the ultimate win. He could shatter you with a few mean words— but for some reason, you didn’t think he would.

“You know what I’m doin’. What this is. Don’t you, love?” His thumb catches your chin, pulling you into one of those soft kisses he’s been hiding from you, and it’s so classic of him you nearly laugh.

Everything he does, he does in stride. With confidence. Even this— a changing of a reliable tide, a shift in your relationship into a strange and unpredictable horizon, he handles like he’s always known it was coming. Like it was inevitable. You couldn’t of been more lost right now, but if he knew, if he could guide you, you’d be okay.

“That alright?” He whispers lowly, dipping his head to catch your eyes.

“Course. Yeah. Yeah— I want…” You swallow hard. Fear and insecurity creep up your throat and tighten it. “I want you. Really bad.”

It takes him a second, and then he grins. “I know, love. Can feel ya on me—“

“Not like— not just like that.” His head tilts, smiling incredulously at you, but he must be able to tell. You can’t say what you’re feeling right now, but what you were doing was enough. Extending an olive branch, and he was going to fucking snatch it out of your hands and consume every inch.

“You’re so sweet. I want ya too, okay? Don’t look so fuckin’ nervous.”

“M’not nervous.” You mumble it. It could not be less convincing. He was still smiling. “Stop looking at me like that and I won’t be.”

“Like what?” He’s got a dopey, lazy look on him, so you shift your hips, and his confidence shakes as you drag your clit across the sensitive head of his leaking cock. “Shit—“

“You okay, Johnny?” You whisper and he nods furiously. He’s the one squeezing his eyes shut now, and you kiss the crease in his forhead before you raise your hips and start to sink down on him, keening at the catch of his head at your entrance. “Oh, god—“

It feels right. Whatever the fuck you two were doing before— it wasn’t as good as this. The whispers of each others names, the feeling of heat splitting it’s way up your spine, how he holds you so close you think you might explode under the pressure. This was the right way to do it.

“Fuck. Fuckin— slow, baby. I’m gonna fuckin’ finish if ya don’t go—“ He chokes out another harsh exhale, sounding winded. He’s holding your hips so hard he’ll leave bruises, and you moan at the thought of it. “Fucking tight as fuck.”

“Relax.” You coo in his ear, trying to distract the both of you from the stretch of him slowly filling you.

Even though he’s had you countless times, you still struggle to take him like this— and he clearly does too. It’s a favourite for both of you for this reason. You both crave the little bit of pain, something that reminds you where you are. What you’re doing. Mainly who you’re doing it with. It might have been subconscious before, but now… there’s nothing that could deny who was breaking you apart.

He says your name over and over as he starts fucking up into you, and you feel him so deep like this. He controls you easily, the muscles in his arms and chest straining with how hard every thrust of his hips snaps against yours. You nearly sob when he goes faster, familiar brutality mixed with the soft way he’s watching your eyes has your mind swimming in the pleasure he drives into you.

Your head falls back, and he wraps an arm around your lower back, holding you to him. Both of you grind into the way he has you, him still fucking you at a pace that practically strips you bare. You can’t hide anything from him here— not with your foreheads stuck together, bodies pressed in every way they can, Johnnys hands pawing at your ass, your tits, anything they can find that gets a new sound out of you.

“Feels so good.” You sigh, your entire body at his mercy as he slams himself up off the bed. It’s still slow, slow enough that he can keep your eyes locked on him, but fuck— he’s so hard with it, you know you’ll feel him for days. “So good. Fuck. More—“

“Shit, I know baby.” He kisses you, teeth clashing as you try to keep up with the way he moves. Your body melts when he kisses you, moulding against him and letting him use you.

You want him to use you. You want him to take all the things you know he wants, but you’re too scared to admit you can give to him. Nothing about the life you live is safe, or guaranteed, but whatever you have here is grounding, and it’s enough. More than enough— but you just can’t say it.

You roll your hips again, and you hear his low moans turn breathy and soft. He’s close. You can feel it. He’s been worked up all day because of you, and you don’t want him to wait again. You want him to take it.

“Fuck, baby I’m gonna—“

“I know. Keep going, wanna feel it.” You nearly sob, and Soap looks at your broken features and kisses them away.

Your world rotates as he flips you on your back, your hands pulled from his hair as his rough fingertips hold your wrists down. He pins them above your head, sounds spilling from him that have sparks flying in your chest. That’s the thing that makes this so fucking different. It’s not even the sounds— it’s who’s making them. Who’s doing it to you.

It’s him.

It’s all about him.

He spreads you wide, his free hand grabbing your calf and pushing it down so he can fuck you deeper. He looms over you, holding you down with his body weight, and the last thing you see is his head turn, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, and then he says your name as you fall into bliss.

Everything locks and releases in tandem, your body somehow tight and loose at the same time. You arch off the bed, Soaps arms wrapping you close as you feel warmth spread across your stomach. His breath is hot as he rides out his high, head tucked into your neck, and he grounds you as pleasure seeks its way through the cloud of your brain.

“T’s too good. You’re fuckin— shit. Shit, baby.” He talks through it, knowing you love the sound of his voice, and he doesn’t even need to touch you to help you ride it out. Waves of searing bliss drown you in the feeling he’s giving you, and when he finally starts to slow, you just say his name again, hearing him echo it back to you. “Yeah. That’s fuckin’ right. Me.”

After a while, things get a little less fuzzy, and you can feel his hand leave your wrists. Your hands come down on their own volition, threading through his hair. You feel his head tilt a little, leaning into the soft touch of your hand, so you keep going, letting your fingertips dance along his scalp. It’s doing the same thing for you that it is for him— giving you something to focus on while your heart slows.

His hair is unfairly soft. It should be straw dry and breaking off with the shitty 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner and body wash he uses. You tried it once, and it made your pony tail move in one direction for a week. But his is like… feather soft. So easy to comb through, you could spend hours like this.

“I like that.” He says after a while. He’s not pinning you anymore, half moved to the side with an arm and a leg thrown over you. His head was still hidden, buried so close that when he talks, his lips brush against your collarbone.

“How is your hair so soft?” You mumble, more to yourself, your hands no longer shaking from adrenaline and pleasure. “Not fair.”

“Natural beauty n’ all.” He says, and you can feel the dumb smirk he has on his face. You twirl your fingers in his hair and pull lightly, and he fakes a yelp. “Owwww.”

“Such a drama queen.” You roll your eyes, and he groans emphatically as he hauls himself up and over to hang above you. His eyebrows are raised, and he’s smiling.

Maybe his smile isn’t so dumb.

“We’re gonna be in shit for missin’ that meeting, you know.” He says, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Hope you got a good excuse.”

“I don’t even care.” You sigh, a little delirious in the come down from such a high. He laughs, all bright and happy, and you smile back at him. “I’m just glad we’re… you know. Here.”

He stares at you for a second, for what feels like the millionth time today, but then he leans down and kisses you again. Even though it had happened so many times, you don’t think there’d be a time you’d get tired of it. Not the looks, not the kisses, or any of it. Even though everything was on the line, you’d give it all up, lose all the battles, if it meant this.

“Yeah. Me too.” He grins. Your heart skips.

His smile is definitely not dumb.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x y/n #soap x you #john mactavish x you #john mactavish x y/n #soap cod #soap smut #john soap mactavish smut #cod smut

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porcelana-r0ta · 2 years

Text

The Curse of Sight

Summary: When Wes Weston meets Time Drake-Wayne, the dots start connecting. And those dots form a Bat.

Word Count: 2690

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44788813

[Part 2]

When Wes Weston's parents divorced, they decided that he should stay with his dad in Amity Park. After all, small town Amity is much safer than big city Gotham, where his mother was moving in order to accept a promotion with Wayne Enterprises. Wes, in order to still see his mom, would visit her in Gotham every summer and every other holiday.

Of course, Amity soon became more dangerous than Gotham could even dream of thanks to the hell portal in the Fenton's basement that killed and bore Phantom, but whatever. No one ever listened to Wes anyway, and he learned to shut his mouth when Sam Manson shoved him against the lockers and asked him what he thought would happen to Danny Fenton if the Ghost Investigation Ward ever believed his “crazy as shit imagination.”

She was still playing the "Wes is crazy" game, even when defending her boyfriend.

Still, she was right. Danny was safer without him trying to convince Amity's negligent populace that Danny was Phantom. (Even if it absolutely drove him mad that no one but him was capable of making the connection between Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom.) So he shut up. He deleted his conspiracy theory blog and even asked Tucker Foley to wipe all remnants of its existence from the internet, a request which his classmate happily obliged. He even said, "I'm glad you're moving on from this whole Fenton-Phantom obsession, Wes."

Professional gaslighters, the lot of them.

So yes, Wes had thoroughly given up on the superhero ID evidence schemes by the time he left to visit his mom after his freshman year of high school. He had made peace with it and settled back into reading mystery novels or movies and solving the case before the protagonists in place of proving Phantom’s ID.

When he came to Gotham, he had to get a new library card so he could keep up with his mystery novel hyperfixation. He happens to take just a little too long in the library, so by the time he has a nice stack of books to check out, it's dark outside.

Great, walking back to my mother's apartment in the dark in Gotham. Seems super safe.

Well, Gotham is no Amity, right?

So he marches on and tries not to be too resigned when he's inevitably yanked into an alleyway even though the apartment is only three blocks from the library.

Classic.

It's just a man with a gun, his face obscured with a hood and a red bandana. He's literally nothing compared to Pariah Dark or Undergrowth or Dr. Spectra or even the fucking Box Ghost.

"Let me guess," he says. "You want any cash I have, right?"

"Kid, shut the hell up and fork over your money," says the man, and Wes sighs. The mugger didn't even wave around his gun or give an impassioned speech about stealing someone's pelt.

"Original," Wes intones. "But I'm fifteen. And everyone knows young people don't carry cash anymore. I guess I could give you my mom's emergency credit card that she gave me, but she did say it was for emergencies only, so."

The man just stares at him. Wes shuffles uncomfortably.

"Oh! And I could just cancel the card before you use it," Wes adds into the silence.

"You don't consider being held at gunpoint an emergency?" the mugger finally asks, looking uncertain.

"Should I?" Wes wonders aloud. Sam had been much scarier when she threatened him.

"You said you're fifteen? And you don't have a Gothamite accent?" the man offers his reasoning, as if it's any kind of logical. He'd fit in well in Amity for that trait alone.

"Gothamites always think they're so superior." He has to roll his eyes. "Guns aren't that scary. You know what is scary? Your whole town being dragged into the dimension of death for three days. This is nothing. This city is nothing." You are nothing. He knows better than to say that last part, though;

"Christ, kid, you're crazy." The man shook his head and pulled the hammer of his gun back. "Just-- give me the watch you're wearing."

Wes sighs again, "Whatever, I'm not fighting for it." It was literally just a cheap Walmart watch. But just as he goes to unlatch the watch from his wrist, a caped vigilante swings down from the rooftops and kicks the mugger straight into the pavement.

The mugger doesn't get back up.

"Thanks, Red Robin," Wes dutifully says, even though he's pretty sure the man was A) not really that much of a threat, and B) going to have serious brain trauma now.

"It's no problem," the vigilante says. "You're a little young to be out this late, though."

Well, that's rude. It's only 7:00 pm. The only reason it's dark at all is thanks to Gotham's pollution problem. (Maybe they should let Poison Ivy just go fucking feral, like Sam suggests.)

Wes doesn't say that. Instead he says: "Didn't you start crime fighting when you were, like, twelve?"

Red Robin sputters, but Wes continues, "And the first Robin couldn't have been more than nine. I have never picked a fight with hardened criminals." Do ghosts count as criminals? Surely not. What right does Wes have to dictate the morals of being from a completely different dimension? "So I think I'm doing better than you in the safety department, no offense."

Well, doing better in Gotham. But the Justice League doesn't need to know about Amity Park, so he'll leave that part out.

"I-- just--" Red Robin struggles for a second, and then clears his throat. "Why don't I escort you home?"

"I'm two blocks away, but thanks. And thanks again for the---" he waves to the unconscious mugger. Definitely brain damaged.

"Yeah, no problem." And then he grapples away.

Phantom's much cooler. Not that he'll ever say that in front of Danny, Sam, or Tucker. Or anyone from Amity.

He makes it safely home, even if he does pretend to not notice the Bat stalking him from above. And of course, once he recounts his tale to his mother, she freaks out that he'd been nearly mugged, and tries to ban him from doing anything in Gotham at all.

"Mom, I can't just stay inside the house all day. I refuse to spend my whole summer on Netflix." He wants to at least go sightseeing.

Her mouth goes into a thin line and her eyes are as fiery as her red hair.

"Fine," she says. "Then you can get a job."

His stomach drops, "What?"

"A job. My floor needs a new intern, and I found just the perfect person."

"No, Mom, you can't," he pleads. "A Wayne Enterprises job? I'll be known as a nepo-baby for life!"

"Well, too bad. You should have thought of that before being mugged."

"Almost mugged, Mom! Almost! Red Robin was there!" When he sees that this point is getting him nowhere, he switches tactics, "Mom, the Waynes are held hostage, like, every other week! Do you really want me in closer proximity to them?"

She lifts her chin and sniffs, "I'll be there to watch out for you. And an intern won't have any reason to be next to a Wayne, anyway."

He groans, "Mom, please. It's my summer vacation!"

"And you're my son. Discussion over. You start in two days."

He groans again, "Do I at least get paid? Or is Brucie Wayne like every other rich white dude out there?"

"Wes, sweetie, you're white--"

"But not rich," he grumbles.

"But yes, you'll be paid. Every position with Wayne Enterprises is paid."

He crosses his arms, "At least there's that, I guess."

His mom walks to him to hug him and kiss his forehead.

"I'll handle the paperwork tomorrow. Don't worry, you'll love it there!"

Well, spoiler alert: he doesn't.

He's basically a go-fer, fetching paper or ink or photos or files and most usually, lunch from across the street or donuts or coffee. Especially coffee. And his mom's coworkers kinda suck because hey, the Wayne's executive PR manager just hired her own kid for a coveted Wayne internship. No one likes the idea of someone being here who doesn't deserve it. So he is really sent on the most stupid, tedious errands possible for an intern.

He called it: he's the resident nepo-baby, beaten only by Brucie Wayne's very own brood of nepo-babies.

Suddenly, just letting that mugger fill him with hot lead doesn't look so bad. Maybe he would have become a ghost! Haunting Danny would have been fun. Or Ember and the others of her nature make it look fun, anyway.

The Fenton thermos part would probably be uncomfortable, though.

"This sucks," Wes mutters to himself, balancing three carrying cartons of Batbucks (Gotham's stupid parody of Starbucks since they have to be special and not like other girls in every aspect possible) coffee with just two arms, staring helplessly at the elevator call button in front of him.

"Need an assist?" calls a familiar voice, though Wes can't place from where.

"Yes, please!" Wes says gratefully, looking up at a face with blue eyes, black hair, and a familiar jawline.

Wait a second.

"Here, I'll get that for you," says the man, who is really more like a teenager, since it's goddamn Timothy Drake-Wayne, co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises at just seventeen years old. "Going up, I assume?" he gives a charming laugh as he presses the up button, the kind one practices to perfection to ace media interviews and entertain the wealthy elite at galas.

"Yes, thank you, sir," Wes says, and takes the time to really study Drake-Wayne's eyes. And sure enough, he can recognize makeup covering up purple eyebags, just like he could on Fenton.

No. Please, Lord, I'll go back to church. Just don't let it be true.

"Yeah, no problem!" Drake-Wayne says, which really just seals the deal. Wes quietly dies inside, and also curses God. "I'm glad to be of service! Interns doing coffee runs really are doing God's work. And there's no need to call me sir. Tim will do just fine."

"Right... Tim," Wes says uncertainly. He kind of wants the elevator doors to open up and reveal a pitch black hole to drop into, but when the bell rings and the doors slide open, it's just the same ol' regular elevator it's always been. Damn.

So. The boss of this whole entire company is Red Robin. Makes sense, seems legit. He figured out that Plasmius was the mayor of Amity, too, didn't he? So why shouldn't all billionaires be playing dress up and fight crime or be the crime? What's stopping them all, really, when wealth is a superpower all on its own?

Wait, fuck. So. If Tim started out as a Robin when he was twelve-ish. And apparently billionaires are playing dress up. Then doesn't that mean...?

Oh, God. Couldn't he go one season without figuring out some superpowered person's secret identity? Is that too much to ask?

And of course, after figuring Tim and goddamn Brucie Wayne out, it's not so hard to see the correlations between the introduction of every other Wayne brat to the debut of each Robin.

He shakily steps into the elevator, "And how do you normally take your coffee?"

"With the maximum amount of espresso the barista can legally give me," is Tim's immediate answer.

Just like Danny.

And even worse, Tim steps into the elevator after him.

"What floor?" he asks, and Wes feels stupid. Obviously he was going to come in: why offer help at all if he wasn't going to push the floor button for Wes?"

"Uh, 73," Wes says.

Tim nods and presses the according number, and then takes one of the cartons from Wes as the doors closed.

Hopefully, any nerves that Wes is showing can be played off as the nerves an intern would get when they somehow get stuck with the Actual Big Boss™ , and then said Boss™ tries to take the shit they're carrying.

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Wes says nervously. "I can carry them all, really!"

"Don't be silly," the literal co-CEO of his workplace says, as if Wes is in some fucked up Wattpad fic. "Again, where would any of us be without the ones who bring us coffee?"

"In bed?" Wes offers nervously. "Sleeping?"

Tim laughs, but his smile looks more like a smirk, "I guess you're right!"

"But seriously, I can carry the coffee. It's my job. And it'll look weird to everyone if they see the CEO helping me do my job."

"It's no trouble!" Tim insists, and then emphasizes his point by stealing the second carton in Wes's hands. "See? And my employees will be glad to see that I value every employee and am always willing to help out!"

Haha yeah, thought Wes. Too bad they'll never know just how much you help out, right?

Finally, the elevator dings, and Wes is released from one prison to another.

Thanks to the normal chaos of working at Wayne Enterprises, no one immediately notices that the co-CEO is carrying the bulk of the load. Instead, they all hone in on the scent of coffee, and they lunge.

"Thanks, Weston!" the few who are clear-minded enough to remember manners manage to say, even as most of them take their orders from a black haired wunderkind instead of a redheaded conspiracy theorist with the curse of Cassandra.

"Of course," Wes says nervously, and then finally some recognition starts sparking in the coffee-hungry eyes of exhausted PR employees who are always trying to handle some wacky Wayne hijinks.

"You're Weston," says his mom's assistant, Jade, pointing at Wes, and then slowly pointing to Tim, "and you're.... Oh, Mr. Drake-Wayne! Here, let me get that for you!" She yanks the empty cartons out of Tim's hands and shoved them into Wes's. Luckily, his carrying carton had been emptied, too, so he doesn’t get coffee spilled all over him and the floor. "Here, Weston, go dispose of these! Why were you making Mr. Drake-Wayne carry them? It's your job to get coffee, not our CEO's! He has better things to do. In fact, he probably needs to speak to Ms. Rolland."

Ms. Rolland as in his mother, who went back to her maiden name after the divorce.

"Now hold on," says Tim, his eyes alight with anger. "I offered to help Weston out, and I have no need to speak with Penny. I was just helping out one of my employees."

"Oh," says Jade, taking a step back. "Of- of course, sir! Weston, here, I'll take these cartons back. And sir, it's very kind of you to help out."

"I try," Tim says dryly. Wes notices he doesn't tell Jade to not call him sir. "You should probably get back to work."

"Of course, sir." And with the cartons in her hands, she scurries off in the direction of his mom's office, where she'll probably complain about how her kid made Jade look like a fool in front of the Actual Big Boss™.

"Uh, thanks," he tells Tim. "But you really didn't have to help me. It is my job, after all." Unwilling or not.

"It's no problem!" Tim repeats, and Wes wants to bang his head into a wall. "And hey, next time you do a coffee run, forget the others and just grab my order." His words are accompanied by a wink, and Wes is pretty sure it's supposed to be weird rich people humor, so he laughs, and pretends his heart isn’t beating into his ears.

"As much espresso as possible," he plays along, and Tim grins, pressing the call button for the elevator. It hasn't been summoned to another floor, so it opens right back up.

"Have a good day, Weston."

"It's just Wes, really," he corrects, and Tim smiles again.

"Wes," he says, and the elevator doors slide shut.

Cool cool cool. So now he just has to survive two months in Gotham while knowing the entire Batclan’s secret identities.

Cool cool cool cool cool cool....

#idk what this is it just spawned out of me #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp fic #danny phantom x dc #danny phantom #dc #batman #red robin dc #tim drake #wes weston #wesley weston #is this wes weston x tim drake?#you decide!#one shot

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detectivemarvelingcomics · 11 months

Note

Ik you're working hard on the next nycv chapter buuuuuut if it's okay can i ask for more cute pre-isekai!batsis stuff with the batboys 🥺 if you're okay with it ofc!

Oh I'm always down for writing stuff about NYCV, sure I'll do like some bullet points or something

Not a chapter but y'all get some NYCV stuff too! Also to those who haven't read it this should be readable without having prior knowledge of the series so feel free to sit back and enjoy some Batboys fluff!

Tag list since it's technically NYCV content: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnacks @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc @rainnyydaysworld @underworlder @franini @mayo-0-o

NYCV!Batsis & the Batboys

[Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Dick Grayson

As we all know, he's the first batsib, talk about a high bar to reach (ba dum tss), and luckily for you he was an amazing older brother.

Fun where it counts, doting 24/7, protective when the situation calls for it, and stern when he has to be. There's a reason why you looked up to him more than your father in some regards.

Whenever he's off on a mission somewhere far away, he sends you postcards. You keep them in a box under your bed and you haven't thrown a single one away! Each card had a cheesy joke written on them, something to make you smile while he was gone is how he signed them all off with.

There was one time he was on 'Babysitter Duty' (as they later put it) and you ended up staging a bank robbery in the ballroom while he played the Boy Wonder (of course) who saved the day! (Poor Alfred was nominated to be Condiment King).

He's actually insufferable, his coworkers used to hate him because of how often he'd pull his phone/wallet/photobook/whatever could physically hold your picture just to gush and say "Look at my baby sister isn't she perfect?!" "Dude, that's, like, a whole ass teenager" "Shut up."

Although you'd always shown interest in his vigilante work, up until after the whole "I will never be a vigilante thing" much later, Dick was always very very careful in keeping you away from it. Hell, you didn't even know he was a Robin until you wandered into his room one evening when he came back from patrol.

By the time you'd figured him out, he did everything he could to keep you away from harm's way. You just weren't trained to handle yourself, and Dick would be a leader before he was your brother, as much as he'd hate to admit it. So, to keep you safe, he kept you away.

But, when he was there, he made sure to be the best older brother you could ask for. Gifts, advice, jokes, confidants, anything you'd ask. After all, he had competition.

Jason Todd

AKA, the Competition. He's the next batsib you got and so far he apparently holds the title for 'Best Sibling' (according to a ranking system you didn't know about that's being score kept by Alfred, in second place is Cass, for those wondering).

If Dick was the doting older brother then Jason was the annoying one. The kind of brother to open the door to your room, stare at you for five minutes, and walk away like nothing happened. The kind of brother to pull a 'I'm not even bothering you!' kind of move.

But, when it comes down to it, oh this dude's taking a bullet for you. I mentioned it once in the story but he'd always wanted a younger sister and bam he got one, sure he thought you were a spoiled brat at first (and in some ways you were) but hell he's damn sure he'll keep you that way if it meant you'd always be, well, you.

There were some days he'd wonder what it would be like if you'd switched places. If he was the one with the silver spoon and you were the Gotham street rat and nope, shake that thought out of his head. Without you he's sure he'd have gone off the deep end in this vigilante shit.

As much as you'd argue that you both secretly hated each other, you'd remember the time when Jason broke his hand punching Conner Kent in the face. He'd just come back to the family and while you were both getting caught up, you let slip that you broke up because he fell in love with someone else and... whoops. Good thing Tim was there to talk some sense into him.

For the record, Conner did lose his footing, but he argues it's because he was caught off guard, while Jason swears up and down it's because the Lazarus Pit made him stronger, or something like that. You try not to think about it, you're surprised you're still allowed within Titan tower.

He'd never admit it, but of the batsibs he actually knows you best. If the others have questions about what you'd like or how you'd react to something they'd ask Jason. He'd always answer in a way that would wave them off, but he's never been wrong.

Jason, as cold-shouldered as he could be, he has a soft spot for you. If he ever saw you in trouble he's definitely going to step between whatever's going on, don't doubt him on that.

Tim Drake

The first younger brother and, in his argument, therefore the best. Ironically since he was the first younger one you did dote on him a little too much, being the one "good cop" figure in the manor while he was training to be a Robin.

Of course, though you were on the civilian side of things, he actually looked up to you in ways he never could with Dick or Bruce. While they're mainly for the vigilante stuff, you're just there to make sure he doesn't forget who he is: Timothy Drake and not just a Robin.

You were really trying to replicate what your older brothers did for you with Tim, though it was only a little more difficult with his background. Hard to get gifts for someone who probably already has it, and hard to keep secrets and surprises from someone who's good at figuring them out, but you always figured out a way, and those ways always made him happy to see.

Thursdays are Tim and (Y/N) days, everyone in the family knows it. It started out as a mini tradition to get Tim out of the house every now and then and soon it became routine, it was the time you both took to catch up with each other and this especially became true after you went to college. Those times were precious for him, and he always looked forward to it.

Until, that is, other members started crashing it. It started with Dick coincidentally running into you both and suddenly now Jason's already sitting at your booth? And Stephanie? And Cass? Barbara?! What happened to Tim and (Y/N) time?!

But, he had to admit, it was rare to see them all getting along well like this. He couldn't complain, as long as you all got to spend time together that's all that mattered. And, in the end, it was always you two anyway. You are one of his greatest confidants, and he is one of yours likewise. Despite the short age gap, you often found that you shared a lot in common with him. Maybe it was because of your similar backgrounds, or maybe it was because you doted on him so much.

Tim looks up to you. More than you think, and more that you'd expect. Every time you reminded him that you were just a civilian part of it seemed wrong to him. You're as much a part of the family as he is, or as anyone is, and usually it would be him to remind you of that when he caught you distancing yourself again.

You couldn't hide anything from each other, you could read him so easily and he was just good at finding things out. And when it came to being middle siblings, well, that's a pact in and of itself.

Damian Wayne

When you'd heard about getting another younger brother, a blood related one at that, you were ecstatic. Of course, you had Tim, but Tim had his responsibilities to the Drakes too, Damian was a Wayne and so were you, it was a little different.

Sure, his appearance was... sudden. His first impressions not so great either, but you could read him well. He was so young when he came into your father's care and underneath the harsh training and the poisoned words was still that little boy he is and you were determined to help him remember that it was okay to be a boy.

Taking him to the arcade, buying him books, and treating him out for meals were just a few points off of a list of things you've done to make him feel comfortable. You're not a vigilante, you can't help him with training or anything else, but you can help him in other ways and you tried to show that to him.

It took forever. Maybe about a year or so for him to finally open up to you, but once he did it was like a triumph to you, and you knew that you did well when one day you woke up and saw him fast asleep at the foot of your bed, still clad in pajamas and eyes slightly puffy from whatever happened the night before. He's still a boy. You'd remind that to everyone when necessary.

After a while, he would come to you to ask about civilian things, troubles at school, troubles with making friends, and even troubles at galas. And every time you were there to help him out, giving him a few tips and tricks on how to avoid the paprazzi, maybe a clue here and there about what to look out for when looking for friends, and, of course, study tips so he didn't lose his mind in academy.

One day, while waiting to pick him up, there was a knock at your window. It was a woman you'd never seen before. She wore a headscarf that covered her hair and a pair of sunglasses that partially concealed her identity and, hell, if you didn't know any better you'd think that was your own mother. But something told you that she wasn't there to just say hello and, naively, you opened your door and let her in.

She sat at the passenger's seat, everything about her poised and elegant to the point that you were near in awe at her disposition and, quietly, she spoke, "thank you, for everything you've done for Damian." Talia al Ghul, she had to be, why else would she be here? You hadn't heard much about her, you'd barely even seen a few pictures of her from Damian's belongings, but here she was. "Of course," you'd answer, "I know it's not the same, but I know a little bit of how it feels to be alone." And to this she nodded, with a small smile, and with one glance out the car she left, moments later being replaced by Damian.

"So, where are we going today?" He'd ask. You'd give him a list of places, ask him to choose one, and you'd head there with him in tow. One of his favorites had always been the park.

Bonus: Bruce Wayne

I had to include bat-dad. Despite how I write him, he actually really is a good father, just not in the way you'd expect him to be. Y'all hold out for his arc, I promise it will be good!

When you were first dropped off at the manor, you didn't know what to expect from him. He was this huge imposing figure who was clad in black with a scowl on his face, you thought he hated you already. You were so young at the time, how could you have known any better?

Whenever he spoke to you, he'd crouch down and speak in a gentle voice. Whenever you'd ask him of something, even if it seemed like he didn't hear you, you'd see your answer within the next few days. He'd build you a whole other manor if you asked for it.

If only he wasn't so busy, juggling his role as CEO and Batman, he barely had enough time for the both of those, let alone time to raise a daughter, but he tried to show you that he was there in other ways. Fully funding your schooling was a given, but whenever you'd show interest in anything suddenly you'd see more of it in the manor.

When you'd expressed to Dick that you were interested in the piano, you found one in the house the next day. When you'd told Jason that you wanted to read more of a certain author, her entire collection was in the library. You once told Tim that you wanted to go to Metropolis U for college and, out of nowhere, there was an offer for a full ride. You and Damian used to go over to the Kent's to play a certain video game since neither of you had the time to bring it over and, would you look at that, the manor now has a game room.

A series of misunderstandings is what plagued this relationship. One from a father who barely felt the love of a parent and the other from a daughter who vyed for it. You both found your own way of communicating with each other, and it wasn't until the very end where it got strained.

But could you blame him?

You called him a monster.

You didn't even let him explain himself.

But, truthfully, even if you did...

He wasn't sure if you'd understand it.

Hell, he didn't even understand it himself.

All he felt was the heartbreak of realizing he made a mistake that couldn't be undone.

#dc #batman #batfamily #batfam #batsis #batsis fics #batfamily x batsis!reader #batfam x reader #batfamily scenarios #batfamily x reader #batsis!reader #batfam fics #batfamily fics #batfamily x batsis #batfam x batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #my writings #nycv

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blakeprentiss · 8 months

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Aaron

my gif | read on AO3

Aaron Hotchner x Emily Prentiss

summary: following a surprisingly emotional case for the usually well-tempered boss, hotch seeks out comfort in his favorite dark-haired agent, which obviously leads to a confession or two.

wc: 2335

warnings: none (?)

a/n: alternate ending to 7x10 the bittersweet science (the bloodlusting boxer). first fic i have written in two years pls be nice feedback is so appreciated xox enjoy!!

Any case involving kids is tough on the team, especially those who have one of their own. Factor in a young boy dying, however, and that’s enough to make move the usually stoic Aaron Hotchner to tears.

Which is exactly what was happening in that hospital room, Hotch having brought unsub Jimmy Hall to spend his last moments with his son. Standing far back enough to give the family some privacy, but still keeping an eye on the suspect of course, Hotch did his best to ignore the heartbreaking scene in front of him.

“You fought a hell of a fight, Ryan,” Hall spoke through sobs, his ex-wife a mess on the opposite side of the bed. Hotch felt it then, a salty droplet staining his face, and another one trickling to the floor. His expression never changed, however, doing as much as he could to maintain his professional look.

Emily and Rossi had met Hotch and Spencer at the hospital after learning of the outcome of Hall’s match, citing their presence as a second duo to help escort the unsub back to the precinct. In reality, Emily’s brain had gone on autopilot, creating such an excuse to mask her real reason for coming. She knew what Hotch would be feeling in those moments in that room, and she couldn’t bear for him to deal with it alone, if he even did at all.

Rossi didn’t mind this, of course. He always sensed the romantic tension between the two since his first day back in the unit, him and the other 5 team members having a bet going on how long it would take for the spark to finally be ignited. So, when he and Emily reached Spencer in the hallway outside of the Hall room, the three agents lined up against the wall.

Spencer made a bit of small talk about the case that had now begun the closing process, but in all honesty, Emily didn’t hear a word that was said. Her eyes were fixated on the man opposite the small pane of glass, his emotionless expression unwavering.

The three of them heard the unwelcome tone of the monitor flatlining, looking amongst each other solemnly. Minutes later, the door was opening as Hotch wheeled the unsub out of the room. Wordlessly, Rossi took the chair from the other man and begun leading him towards his own room, while Spencer brought his ex-wife in the opposite direction to console here. Aaron replaced Spencer’s position next to Emily on the wall, his eyes fixating on a painting across from the two of them.

“Rossi said he would take care of all the paperwork at the precinct and close up,” Emily spoke, turning to look at the man next to her. If she looked close enough, she could see the faint tear stain on his left cheek. “Let’s go back to the hotel, I’ll drive.”

Aaron nodded, wordlessly beginning to walk with Emily towards where she had left the car just hours before. Their hands found each other as soon as the hospital door closed, making both of their heart rates jump ever so slightly, though both would just chalk it up to the events of the night.

Aaron, ever the gentleman, opened the driver’s side door for Emily before slipping into the seat beside her. He wasn’t surprised by the blush creeping up her cheeks, he noticed it the first time he made the same gesture all those years ago. She turned on the car and begun the short drive back to their hotel. Classical music quietly played through the car radio, and Emily often turned to look at Hotch. She would see him staring out the window each time, but that’s because she was focused on the road each time he would steal a glance.

Soon enough, the pair arrived at the hotel, making their way to the elevator. The ride to the 12th floor was short, but felt like eternity for the two of them. Both lost in their own thoughts about love and life and death, neither noticed how close the other was until their arms brushed against each other. Aaron turned to Emily and looked down at her, a ghost of a smile on his face. A sad smile, but one nonetheless. She looked up, and he could sense the concern in her eyes.

“Thank you for the ride back, Prentiss,” he said softly, his brain itching to brush the fallen piece of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t have to thank me, Hotch,” Emily laughed quietly. “That’s what teammates are for.” She immediately had to hold back a wince at her word choice, knowing damn well she just friendzoned her boss. Then again, she didn’t feel as if this was the time or place to confess to feelings she’d been harboring for nearly five years. “Will you be alright tonight?” She asked to change the subject, out of concern for both her dignity and her boss’ mental state.

“I always am, Prentiss,” Hotch spoke as the elevator came to a stop. The two walked down the same hallway, Emily stopping at her door first. “Goodnight, Emily. Get some rest,” Aaron said softly, his hand brushing against Emily’s back in a way that toed the line of professionalism.

Emily did her best to not freeze at the touch of her boss in what some would consider to be quite a sensual spot. “Thank you, you too,” she managed to get out in a relatively normal tone. “Goodnight, Aaron.” Hotch gave Emily a nod before retreating to his own room, just a few doors down.

The first thing Emily did when entering her room for the night was turn the shower on and dig through her go-bag for the most comfortable clothing she could find. Hopping into the shower, she let the near-boiling water run over her skin as if she was trying to cook away the details of this case. After standing in the shower for what very well could’ve been over an hour, she stepped out and put on her clothes. She was just about to get into bed when there was a knock at her door. Assuming it would be JJ, she didn’t bother throwing on a hoodie before opening the door.

That felt like a mistake to her when she found Aaron opposite the door frame. It felt even worse when she became painfully aware that his eyes were briefly on her low cut, extremely cropped red tank top, which left hardly anything to imagination. And then she watched his eyes make their way to her low-rise sweatpants. Truly she could never feel more embarrassed than in that moment.

“Is everything alright?” Emily asked as she brought her arms up to her chest, itching to draw attention away from her. “Do we have another case?”

“No, no new case,” Hotch spoke quietly, meeting Emily’s gaze. “Do you mind if I just come in for a bit?” He looked away, almost embarrassed to be seeking out company from his subordinate at such an hour. Emily didn’t see it that way, of course, mainly because she could feel the emotions radiating off of Aaron.

“Of course you can,” she smiled and moved out of the way to let the older man in. Shutting the door, they both moved to sit on the edge of the king-sized bed. The pair sat in silence, but it was comfortable - neither felt any pressure to speak like they would if they were in the presence of anyone else. After a while, however, Emily wanted to say something, she just didn’t know what. She turned to look at the man next to her, who she found staring at the wall as tears slowly fell. “Oh, Aaron,” she sighed, putting her hand to his face and turning him to look at her. Her heart damn near broke at seeing him in such pain, the feeling reminiscent of when she had been there for him after he had lost Haley. She pulled him into a hug instinctively, his head seeking solace on her chest as she rubbed soothing circles into his skin. Neither were aware of the eroticism behind the position in that moment, both focused on the hurt and comforting in the present.

“I have no idea why this is affecting me so deeply,” Aaron laughed. “It’s not funny,” he added after seeing the woman’s puzzled look at his chuckle. “I usually have no true emotional reaction when cases involve kids, or the kids of unsubs, but this time I did and I can’t figure out why.”

His hands felt around until it found hers once again, the two of them grasping at each other like it was a lifeline.

“I think it’s because you saw that boy dying and it triggered you to think about what could’ve happened that day,” Emily said, looking at Aaron as he wiped a tear from his face. She didn’t have to specify what day or who could’ve died, they both knew what she meant.

“Doesn’t help that Dave’s been up my ass about dating too,” Aaron added, grabbing Emily’s attention even more. She couldn’t possibly figure out how that had to do with the idea of Jack dying. “He’s been pushing me to date since it’s been almost two years since Haley died, and I think you’re right, the details of this case must have triggered something in me.”

”Grief hits us in the least expecting places,” Emily commented.

“That it does,” Aaron agreed, turning his gaze back to the way. Emily did the same, and the two were silent again for a while.

“Rossi’s right though,” Emily said after a while, eyes staring at the same spot on the wall as the man next to her. “You probably should start dating again.”

“I’ve already had my eye on someone for a while,” Aaron said softly. This time it was him turning to look at the younger woman, using his hand to bring her head towards him before she even had a chance to react to his words. “And I know she’s been doing the same.”

“Really?” Emily asked, feigning innocence. “How do you know she’s into you?”

”There’s a reason they made me the leader of this team,” Aaron said, the insinuation that Emily doubted his ever so present profiling skills making her blush. “But in all honesty, she’s always there when I need her most, even if I don’t realize it myself at the time.” Emily smiled softly at that moment, her cheeks nearly burning as she used her free hand to fiddle with the waistband of her pants. “Plus, she loves to wear a certain red tank top on days when I have a perfect view,” Aaron added, making Emily laugh. His face moved closer to hers, as if asking for permission. Emily nodded and not a moment later, his lips were on hers, encapsulating them in a soft yet passionate kiss.

They broke apart after a while, when it got to the point when air became necessary. “Thank you,” Aaron smiled at her, wrapping his arms around Emily.

“For kissing you?” Emily joked softly. “I’m kidding, I know what you meant,” she added, pulling him into a hug. “I will always be there for you, no matter what.” Her hands ran through his hair, his making their way to the small of her back. “Would you like to stay the night?” She asked. Realizing how suggestive that sounded, especially after the past few minutes, she added quickly, “That way you don’t have to be alone tonight.”

“I’d like that, thank you, Em,” Aaron smiled. The two broke away, climbing under the covers. Their bodies drew to each other like magnets do to metals, reaching for each other until it was impossible to move any further.

“Is that really what gave it away?” Emily asked, moving her head into his chest as the two settled down for the night. “The red tank top?”

”Sort of, but it’s not what really confirmed my thoughts.”

“Well, what was it then?” Emily asked, wanting to know her tell.

”You called me Aaron today,” he said, planting a kiss to her temple. “Twice actually. You hadn’t done that since you found me in the hospital after Foyet got to me, and then again after Haley. And it slips out sometimes when we’re in private.”

”Oh,” Emily said sheepishly, a smile creeping up her face. “I guess I didn’t really try too hard to keep it professional.”

”Oh I didn’t mind one bit,” Aaron laughed, putting his arm around his girl, feeling her breathing even out as they both drifted to sleep.

***

”So, have you taken my advice?” Rossi asked, sitting across from Hotch on the jet. With the case closed and nothing but paperwork to look forward to at the office, the team resorted to their favorite pastime of gossiping. Today’s topic of conversation seemed to have focused itself on the boss man’s dating life, as it so happened to be recently.

“You’ll be happy to know I have a date on Friday,” Aaron said simply, his attention not leaving his paperwork. Emily’s attention was piqued, however, her eyes raising up from her book.

“Atta boy Hotch!” Morgan said excitedly, clapping Aaron’s back from the next seat over. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“You hardly know her,” Aaron commented, eliciting a scoff from a certain blonde across the table.

“I saw what room you went into last night,” JJ said, causing eyes to fall on the only other woman on the jet.

“That was for work business only!” Emily exclaimed. It technically wasn’t a lie, he had come in to discuss the feelings regarding the case.

“Em, I saw him leave your room late this morning when I came back from the gym,” JJ said, eliciting a blush from the raven haired woman as she nudged her.

“Aw man!” Morgan yelled, drawing the attention to himself. “Penelope owes me 50 bucks!”

#criminal minds #cm #cm fic #criminal minds fanfiction #hotchniss fanfiction #Aaron Hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #emily prentiss x Aaron hotchner #mine*#fic*#cm*#hotchniss*#spencer reid

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aintgonnatakethis · 1 month

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Writing Share Tag!

Thank you for the tags! I remember when I had enough free time to answer each tag game separately. Working life is not for me. 😔 As you can see though, I do keep them all and I appreciate being included in the writeblr community! ❤️️ I'm also reading all of them of course, but recently my spoon situation has been disastrous. I want to pick up providing feedback again; maybe this will hold me accountable!

@aziz-reads (x) (x) @gioiaalbanoart (x) (x) @frostedlemonwriter (x)

@willtheweaver (x) (x) @wyked-ao3 (x) @lychhiker-writes (x) @fortunatetragedy (x)

This snippet is from Flu O'Clock, a story in the on your hands and your knees, do you feel in charge? series. Classic sick!fic with my end goal being platonic OT3. Want to see how that's going?

Telford could appreciate the directness, and he wasn't about to do harm to himself just because he didn't like the taste of something. That was more Rush's speed, though he wisely didn't verbalise that thought, accepting the canteen and knocking back the stuff as quickly as he could without risking hurling it up again. "Good boy," Rush said, still in an aggressively casual tone of voice. Everett coughed. Rush did that thing where outwardly he completely ignored the sound, but Telford could see that all of the man's senses were trained with extreme interest on Everett, keenly awaiting any trace of pull on the line. Of course he got exactly what he wanted, because Everett just wasn't able to help himself, in far too many areas of his life. "You said you had work to do?" he asked Rush, proving the one thing he didn't possess was any degree of subtlety. "I think I'll work in here today," Rush said, the way he'd stated it as a fact without even an attempt at the faux politeness of asking if that would be alright designed to press Everett's buttons, specifically his agreeable-unless-you-don't-acknowledge-my-authority one. "Do you really think that's necessary?" Everett responded, overly mild. "He needs his rest." Rush placed the back of his hand on Telford's forehead. Telford heard Everett stand up. That's right, he thought with no small amount of amusement, fight like dogs over me. He relaxed beneath Rush's cool skin, allowing his eyes to drift closed. "I won't be a bother," Rush offered, in a tone far too soft to be used in company, in Telford's opinion. "I just think--" Everett started, only to be immediately interrupted. "I don't care what you think." "Rush." "What?" "You're going to calm down," Everett ordered, doing a terrible job of remaining calm himself. "I'm not the one yelling," Rush retorted, blunt but with a level enough voice that Telford knew Everett would find infuriating. "Maybe you'd like to practice using your inside voice." "Listen!" Everett hissed, clearly restraining himself from moving any closer. "You can't--" "I can do whatever I damn well please." The bed shifted as Rush stood. "You're not going to fucking touch me." Invoking Telford's unspoken protection was an odd play, but one of the best things about Rush was that he never did what was expected of him, always keeping those around him on their toes. Everett let out a warning rumble and Telford cracked his eyes open to see the two men standing nose to nose, staring each other down with no attempt from either party to conceal their aggression. "You know," Telford remarked pointedly. "If you two want to fuck you can have the bed." The twin scandalised expressions he received in response were well worth the headache the argument had set raging inside his skull, a bull deciding his brain would make a nice china shop to run riot in.

Tagging: @moltenwrites @the-golden-comet @finickyfelix @lancedoncrimsonwings @bagheerita + OPEN

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glux2 · 10 months

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Musing: Emotional connection

Recently a very close person to me suggested i binge watch "Angel Hare", before that day my only exposure to that project was a fan game that had a very funny punchline in lampooning the "cursed videogame" genre.

So i watched the whole thing and it was great.

This scene right here made me feel more feelings than most of the media i have watched/played/read in like the last 5 years or so.

So it made my mind wonder, like, "hold on, when was the last time i felt this strongly about a piece of entertainment?"

Sure, if you know me, i felt strongly about the ongoing plotline for Noelle on Deltarune, so one would think "2021 when chapter two came out", right? but no, i got very invested but it wasn't it.

The last time i felt so strongly about a piece of media was actually Deltarune's predecesor, Undertale in 2015.

I finished Undertale in tears, i got in a very bad funk when i found out about the genocide ending, it truly made me feel emotions.

So i began to ponder, just what really moves me?

Full disclosure: I don't cry at movies. This is not a "look at me i am a badass who is not beheld by feelings" statement, no, i kinda just dont connect emotionally with movies as easily as other people.

I have talked about this, many times actually, Toy Story 3 did not make me cry, it always bothers me how people at the time were like "if TS3 didn't make you cry, you have no soul" and shit like that, so let me repeat something i have said many times before:

Toy Story 3 was a movie i went to see the day doctors had informed me my mother had entered terminal phase of cancer.

My friends took me to see TS3 when i felt the greatest sadness i have ever felt in my entire life. And im glad TS3 was a pretty funny movie that managed to distract me from what i was going through. TS3 uplifted me when i had a very real reason to cry.

So what im getting at is, i rarely connect emotionally with what conventionally makes people emotionally connected, not that i havent felt strong emotions from movies, but as we'll get to later, it's just not the stuff you would expect, when we get back to movies you'll be thinking, "what the fuck, Toy story 3 did not make you emotional but THIS THING DID?!"

So, if traditional "emotional things" rarely have moved me i began to think to myself, "what are things that have made me feel this strongly?"

I realized it's the damn weirdest things.

I'll try to list things that i can remember making me feel this emotional.

Now i'll be upfront, im not a very cultured person, so you'll notice most of this is...not very high brow.

Also, obviously spoilers for all this stuff im about to talk about.

Before we begin: Honorable mention goes to me finding out i had repressed memories of being traumatized as a kid by being show an animated adaptation of "Pilgrim's progress" by an aunt, which disturbed me greatly towards the end as the main character dies and before it the souls of two people he met are condemned to eternal damnation from making MISTAKES, not sins, not evil, but THE FUCKING MISTAKE of exploring alternate routes before them.

-Yoshi's Island, 1994 When i was a wee one Yoshi was one of my fave videogame characters, so of course i was beyond hype when a game where you play as yoshi came out, the ending is one of the greatest moments in videogame history, the beautiful music, the journey of the stork, and finally the classic Mario fan fare playing as baby mario and baby luigi being held by their parents with the words "Heroes are born", it's such a powerful moment. To this day i still cannot listen to that credits music without tearing up.

Sequel? Retcon?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TALKING ABOUT, SHUT UP, THIS IS THE PERFECT ENDING AND NOTHING ELSE HAPPENED AFTER IT!

-The bicentennial man, 1999 The bicentennial man is one of the biggest examples of a movie being fucking mischaracterized in the marketing, this movie is based on Isaac Asimov's short story and later novel, it stars Robin Williams, so all marketing was presenting the movie as Robin Williams comedy movie, IT. IS. NOT. The bicentennial man is a scifi drama about the existential search for meaning and the nature of what truly is to be alive. You get invested on the quest of this robot trying to find humanity for 200 years, and the punchline to this movie is, in his quest for humanity he forgoes the immortality being a machine provides him as he had developed the way to turn himself biological, still artificial but biological, and he dies peacefully on his sleep before he can be told that humanity had declared him, legally, a human being. To me it was such a powerful moment, he found true meaning to his life, became human, yet died before knowing so.

-Courage the cowardly dog, "The Mask", 2002 This is a legendary episode of an already great show that has a lot of very good emotional moments, some may cite episodes like "the giving tree" or "the last star maker", but for me it's this one. For those who have never experienced this episode, it revolves around a cat girl named Kitty who one day shows up at Courage's farm and she's wearing an upsetting mask, she abuses courage because she believes all dogs are bad. The mask serves 2 purposes, one is metaphorical, "her inability to face reality", the second is to hide her identity as she believes she is in danger. The thing is, she is on the run because her lover best friend Bunny is trapped in an abusive relationship with a gangster dog who threatened to kill her if she was seen near Bunny ever again, the episode coats the whole situation with a ton of goofiness, but it's actually very fucking dark: A young lesbian is trapped against her will on an abusive relationship with a toxic, violent man who threatened to kill her girlfriend if she refused to date him. Courage, being a good little dog ventures to save Bunny and have her reunite with Kitty because, despite how bad Kitty was to him, he recognizes that Kitty is a victim and she and Bunny deserve better, leading to Courage letting them escape away together, to live happy and free. I don't think it's just me, but the final image of Kitty and Bunny hugging as the train takes them to freedom felt so powerful to me.

-Twisted Metal Head-on, 2002 This is one of the weirdest things i have ever gotten emotionally invested, but honestly? i love when some shitposting franchise suddenly manages to pull this off, specially given the set up for this whole thing im going to describe starts in an early game as a fucking joke. So to contextualize this, the first two Twisted metal games were helmed by the og creators of the franchise, TM 3, 4 and small brawl were made by different developers when the creators lost the rights, but during the PS2 era when the og developers came back and created TM: Black, and TM: Head-on, Black was a reboot, Head-on was a retcon sequel to TM 2 that eliminated TM3 from the timeline, but not TM 4. Still with me? Okay so TM2 had this character, Krista Sparks, who was the revealed to be the daughter of the main antagonist of the game, Calypso, but hold on? wasn't Calypso's backstory that his family died in a tragic accident which lead him to become evil? So turns out, the FBI retrieved his daughter's corpse, turned it into a robot with a bomb with the intend to make her get close to Calypso and blow him up. The ending ends comically with a message reading "The FBI wishes to thank you for putting an end to Twisted metal". Stil Still with me?!?!?! ok! so Head on! In this game Krista is back, as a ghost, her ending consists on her confronting her dad, who has now brought up so much pain, misery and death to the world, Calypso tries to explain that the nature of his powers mean he has to do this otherwise he cannot use his powers, and his plan was for Krista to win so he could bring her back and her mom to life, but Krista is so horrified with what has happened that she refuses and blurts "I wish the accident that killed me and mom never happened" the intention being impeding Calypso from becoming this evil super natural villian, but as per all endings, it's always a monkey paw affair and Calypso knows it, looking saddened he grants the wish because he has no option, his powers force him to. Briefly Krista has a vision of her childhood with her dad before he became evil as they share a sweet moment playing on a swing set. HARD CUT TO A HOSPITAL, Krista is on a bed in coma, Calypso is there and whispers to her something along the lines of "Sleep tight my dear, may you finally find peace", as Calypso is leaving the hospital you can hear 2 doctors talking, mentioning that Krista had been in coma for more than a decade and apparently Calypso just had found out. Excuse me Twisted Metal, but WHAT THE FUCK? You are a dumb fucking edgy car combat game, how dare you make me feel these things?

-Mother 3, 2006 (translation on 2008) Mother 3 hopefully needs no introduction, or maybe it does, because many people have reduced it to a joke due to how nintendo stubbornly refuses to give us an official release, but also many of you must know this franchise is the spark that ignited the flame of the absolute Juggernaut Undertale would become, as well as many other games influenced by it. The Mother/Earthbound games were known for being quirky and deviating from the standard conventions of the game, notably for the modern day setting and unorthodox choices of how you deal with the villians, they were always billed as emotional, but i feel they did not live up to that...until 3. The general narrative to Mother 3 is about how greed is destroying the world, the main villian corrupting what we see of the world (a paradise little town where everybody is nice) by introducing luxury, money and status....and also stomping everything with his fascist army and cyborg mutants. Mother 3 is a game about how the worst traits of humanity are destroying the world and upsetting nature. Mother 3 is also the story of 2 twin brothers who suffer tragedy after tragedy after tragedy that ultimately pits them one against the other with the fate of the world at stake. Mother 3 punches you almost immediately by killing the mother character (which i might mention you're encouraged to name after your own mother) at the end of the first chapter and how this affects her surviving family. one of the Twins, Claus, is so disturbed that he decides to on on his own to try to kill the monster that took his mom, while the other, Lucas, was too afraid and weak to stop his brother, resulting on Claus dying as well...but the badguys take his corpse and reanimate it into a cold, emotionless cyborg who follow's the big bad's order and is using him to try to cause the end of the world. In the climax of the story Lucas is force to confront Claus, clause is a brain washed cyborg, his master is out of the picture and all he can do is fight, you can't reason with him...and then.... Lucas and Claus begin to hear a voice, a familiar voice, it's their mother, reaching for them from beyond the grave, pleading for them to stop fighting, suddenly Lucas and Claus both have a flash back to when they were babies, overhearing their parents talk about the hopes they have for them, the many things they will be able to achieve together, this makes Clause snap out of his brain washing, removing the helmet that had been hiding his face since he was resurrected, Lucas and him have a moment as they are finally reunited, Claus realizes all the bad things he has done while under control of the bad guy and realizes he must atone for his crimes, he prepares a lightning attack he knows cannot hurt Lucas and cause HIM to die. "Im sorry for all the problems i caused" he says as he is dying on his dad's arm, "I must go to where mom is now", as he passes away he can hear his mother calling for him, "You just be so tired" she says. Now i know it will sound insane for people to hear a videogame of all things can make one so emotional, but damn, just recollecting these scenes for this dumb post has made me start to cry, the emotional punch of this scene is very strong, it demolished me when i played the game back in the day, but now? After my own mother passed away? I have been scared of playing this game again. I mot sure if im emotionally prepare to go though that again, even 10+ years later. That's how powerful this scene was to me.

-Elite Beat Agents, 2007 If you have played this game, you know were im going, for those who dont, EBA is a silly rhythm game about secret agent cheer leaders that are dispatched around the world to help people in need by raising their spirit and allow them to overcome adversity, the game is insanely wacky and have scenarios like helping a ninja car salesman prevent a company from stealing his company's secrets, helping a washed up baseball star fight a lava spitting golem rampaging on an amusement park and traveling back in time to help davinci paint the mona lisa. EBA is also the second game in the Ouendan series, and there is something you need to know about this series: They all include tearjerker levels to contrast with all the goofiness. "A christmas Wish" is a christmas themed level set to Chicago's "You are the inspiration" and the story to this level is positively DEVASTATING: A few months before christmas a business man tells his daughter and wife he has to go on a business trip but he promises he'll be back just in time for christmas, the girl asks him to bring back a "girlfriend" for her teddy bear. The father dies on a plane crash. When the mother breaks the news to the little girl she gets angry, crying to the skies that her dad promised he would be back for christmas. The backdrop of the stage is set the girl and the mom doing things to remember the dad, like looking through a photo album and baking a cake for his birthday, it's very sweet, but...this is EBA, if you're doing poorly you see the "bad" versions of these scenes, and in this one, one is very devastating, the little girl is having a dream where she's chasing the spirit of her dad, if you're doing well she calls for him and for a brief moment the dad stops and starts turning towards her, if you're doing bad the spirit fades away and the girl wakes up in tears. Dear goodness. But of course, if you beat the level you get this sequence of the ghost of the dad showing up on chrismas morning to fullfil his promise, giving the little girl the teddy bear he promised and having the chance to say good bye to his family.

This punches you really fucking hard in the gut. I am incapable of doing this level without ending in tears. For a time i could not even listen to this song without tearing up until, i shit you now, the deadpool movie used it on a comedy scene.

-Punch out!!, 2009 This one is one i know got me because of personal nostalgia, when i was a wee one the og NES punch out was a big part of my childhood, Punch Out!! on the wii was a masterfully crafted tribute to the franchise. To not dwell too much time on this, this game has an interesting quirk, the ending is a downer ending and it's the only ending you can get. After you beat the last opponent there is a sequence where Mac and Doc seemingly are having a disagreement, where Mac seemingly has decided that if he loses 3 times, he'll retire from boxing completely. After this you face randomly opponents from the game, the first time you lose in this mode you lose your champion title, after three loses, it's game over and the story mode becomes locked for that save file. The final cutscene is Doc walking through what seems to be a gallery with boxing memorabilia, and untold number of years later, he is alone, he spots his old bike on this gallery and rings the bell, he looks up and speak to an absent Mac, "Good job son, good job", as he leaves the camera pans to reveal he was looking at a framed photo of him and Mac on one of their training sessions. The music on this sequence is so perfect, and it was aimed at people like me, people who grew up with the franchise, the idea was making it feel like Doc was reminiscing of YOUR time with punch out when you were a kid, and to make you think about how far YOU have come since the first time you played the games in an arcade, or your nes, or snes. It's actually pretty effective and it got me.

-Regular Show, "Trucker Hall of Fame", 2012 What makes this one different from others instances of me making me emotional, it's, much like the "Angel Hare" example at the top, this one is all about WARM HAPPY FEELINGS, so for those who did not watch this episode, let me summarize it for you: One day Muscleman gets word that his dad, who was his personal hero, has passed away, and he's tasked with carrying his final wish, spread his [hat's] ashes in a place called "Trucker hall of fame", you see, Muscleman was lead to believe his dad was a legendary trucker and that earned him his admiration, but during the episode Muscleman finds out he was lied to, his dad was a forklift driver that the truckers belittled, altho feeling cheated for having been lied to he carries on with his father's wishes. Now because this is regular show, when they arrive at the trucker's hall of fame they are immediately attacked by ghost trucker for "desecrating the hall of fame" as they spread the ashes something happens: The ghost of Muscleman's dad manifests himself and saves his son, taking the chance to apologize to his son and having the chance to say his final good bye personally. Despite the inherent silliness of the show's premise, i think this episode really did a good job on expressing that sense of catharsis of making peace with the passing of a love one.

-The Final Girls, 2015 A friend suggested we watched this movie, and much like Twisted metal up there, i absolutely did not expect for this incredibly stupid comedy horror movie to hit me with any sort of emotional connection, and yet... The Final Girls opens with the main character in a car with her mom, who is an struggling C-tier actress whose biggest achievement ever was appearing on a Friday the 13th knock off movie, during this sequence they get in an accident where the mom dies and even after it's been some time since the accident the main character has not properly moved on from the passing of her mom. Her friends and some people at the college she attends are preparing this horror movie festival where the main event is they are going to play the movies from the franchise her mom was on, and they suggest she should come. Then some bullshit happens and they all end up somehow trapped in the world of the movie. A quick rundown of the rules of horror movies is explained to them, the monster cannot be defeated by fighting it, it's only the final girl who can defeat the killer, and unfortunately for them they accidentally killed the character that, in the canon of the movie, is the final girl, so they believe one of them has to become the final girl and end the movie to hopefully get out of it. The problem is, the main character is experimenting shock from interacting with her mom's character, she is not taking well to seeing her mom on the flesh and she dedicates the entire movie to "save her mom", in the climax of the movie the mom character begins to understand that she is a fictional character and the nature of her attachment to the main character, understanding that they cannot be both the final girl and if then main character wants to make it back to the real world she has to learn "To let go", choosing to sacrifice herself so there is only one final girl. It's kinda weird, that of all possible premises, this managed to make a "You need to move on" message that somehow managed to resonate with me, you might have figured out by now a running theme here, but, i was really hard for me to deal with my mother's passing even if it's been years since it happened, so it's kinda funny for me to think these are the places i have found comfort from.

-Undertale, 2015 Okay this is tumblr, i already talked about Undertale on the prologue to, whatever the fuck im doing here, you know what undertale is, you know how effective it is, Undertale is really well designed for you to grow emotionally attached to these characters, so being able to see all these characters you know have grown attached to have their happy ending on the pacifist ending does fill one with a very satisfactory warm happy feeling that can move you to tears. ...Or you can be bummed out by being a little greedy gaming bitch and taking a look at the bad ending. Because you just couldn't help yourself, could you?

-Onward, 2020 This movie did not hit me as hard as the most emotional entries on this, but it still got me, because in the end of the day the main motivation of the characters on this movie is experiencing closure, catharsis over the death of their father, for Ian it's the fact that he died before he was born so he never met him and is driven by this desire to finally see the father who he shares such a connection with on the stories everybody who knew him in life have told him, and then there is Barley, the elder brother, who did know his dad in life, but is tortured by how, as a kid, he did not properly say good bye to him because he was terrified of death and avoided being there for him in his final days. The ending for this movie is very powerful, Ian choosing to sacrifice being able to meet his dad in the flesh, even for a few minutes, in order to give Barley the chance to being able to properly make peace with his dad and properly say good bye to him. Ian doesn't even get to SEE this, he does not get to see his dad even tho it was what he wanted most of all, but he understood bringing closure to Barley was more important than his selfish desire to see his dad, someone he never knew in life.

So what have i learned from whatever the hell this trainwreck of a post is...i guess that what really gets to me, what really moves me, is when a character, maybe not even someone i can realistically relate to, gets to experience closure, catharsis and be in peace with the people who are missing on their life. The majority of these things in here, even the Angel Hare example, relate to a character being able to experience catharsis by being able to properly make pace or otherwise contact someone they lost, or their ability to move on from this world, so to speak, knowing that their affairs and in order and that their loved ones will be okay.

Things can always look dark, the world may be trying to keep you down, maybe losing someone has been specially hard for you, but it's not the end of the world, you are loved and things can get better, it always hurts and we'll never stop missing what we have lost, but the memories of happier times are there to remind us, we can be happy again, and we can move on, use those memories as your motivation, you can lead yourself to a future filled with light.

#rambling #onward #mother 3 #angel hare #twisted metal #punch out #yoshi's island #undertale #deltarune #regular show #courage the cowardly dog #EBA

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